#THERE WERE A FEW PEOPLE WHO CALLED IT OUT BEFORE PT 6 EVEN DROPPED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

definitelynotstable · 9 months

Text

Camomile pt. 11 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt.11

AN: Another one <3 She is very game orientated and action heavy. Bare with me babes! For the plot!

Synopsis: Closely follows the “Kill or Capture” mission from mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <3 Word count: 2.5k Warnings: Canon divergence, canon-typical violence, military shit, guns, explosions etc. Ghost x gn!Reader (callsign: Rags)

Not proof-read (sorry!)

✧˚ · .

Missions came and went and you slowly but surely found yourself shaking the nerves you had returning to active duty. Trainings and drills were back full force and each night you returned to your room with aching limbs. Ghost and you had returned to the unspoken routine of drinking tea in the small hours of the morning. The Lieutenant had come to relax considerably around you and was less stoic; his replies during conversation longer and more detailed than they had ever been.

“There’s a briefing tomorrow.” He’d begun starting conversation more too, rather than waiting for you to break the silence.

“Oh?” You reply, not looking up; eyes skimming the pages of the book in your lap. “What about?”

When he doesn’t respond you frown, closing the book and meeting his gaze. His look is undecipherable, cobalt eyes stern. “Him.”

You narrow your eyes, confused. “Him?”

“Makarov.” The name is spat from his mouth like he’d swallowed something bitter.

“A new lead?” The team hadn’t had one in months.

Ghost nods, playing with the string of his teabag. “Price think’s it’s solid – Laswell too.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, shutting the book and sitting up from where you’d been laying on the couch. You eye the Lieutenant cautiously, “I’ll know tomorrow won’t I?”

The man sighs, dropping his gaze to the table where he runs his finger over a dent. “Jus’ wanted to give you a warnin’.”

You can’t help but smile. This man. Simultaneously one of the most intimidating and softest you’d ever met. “Oh well,” you clear your throat, standing and moving to drop your now-empty mug into the sink, “thank you for letting me know.”

✧˚ · .

The briefing room has been rearranged so Laswell can video call in, you slide into an empty chair next to Soap who slings his arm across the back of it, allowing you to see past his broad chest.

“Do ya ken what this is about?” He whispers to you as Price closes the door, you nudge him with your elbow; shushing him as the Captain starts to speak.

“Mornin’, Kate,” the man speaks to the woman on the screen.

“Morning John,” she nods back, acknowledging those behind him, “team.”

A few people murmur a hello, Ghost, who stands against the wall with his arms crossed, nods with a grunt.

“Alright, assuming no one has breached our confidence, you all don’t know what this is about.”

You flick a glance at Ghost, he doesn’t even blink; watching Laswell with a blank expression.

“We received intel just over 24 hours ago regarding the whereabouts of Vladimir Makarov – commander of the Russian PMC Konni Group and associate of the ultranationalist political party.” She types something into her laptop and a grainy image appears onscreen. You grit your teeth, ignoring the way Gaz and Soap look your way.

“Though we belief the intel to be solid, it is too risky to make a move till we can figure out his intentions.”

You swallow, almost relieved you won’t have to face the man behind your still-healing scars just yet.

Price steps forward, “We thought you all had the right to an update considering recent events.” His eyes dart to yours before turning to the laptop in front of him.

“Instead we have orders from the General – a new HVT.” He hits a key and Laswell is moved to the side, images which can only be of the aftermath of a missile strike take over the screen. “Following our strikes against the Russian-backed Iranian forces and the recent assassination of Iranian General Ghorbrani a new player has emerged – Hassan Zyani.”

This portrait is less pixelated than the last, strong brows and a salt-and-pepper beard soften his sharp features. He doesn’t look like a murderer – though you suppose the dangerous ones never do.

“We believe he has begun funding terrorist activity in an attempt to seek revenge on the United States for the strike which killed Ghorbrani, Shepherd wants as us to put a stop to it before it starts.”

✧˚ · .

You aren’t surprised Laswell doesn’t have much intel on Makarov. He’d only been known to Price and 141 for a short while before your capture. His motives were unclear – a grudge against Price was not a strong enough factor to kidnap and torture an SAS operative on an multinational special operations unit. It was as though he had used your capture to test something – though you weren’t sure what.

“Wheels up in ten.” A voice interrupts your train of thought and you look up to see Ghost, decked out in his tactical gear. It’s odd seeing him in the kitchen, a place you’d only really ever seen him enter in more casual clothing.

“Thanks LT.” You reply, stuffing a handful of camomile teabags into your empty pocket. Though you drink them when you can on mission, it’d become more of a good luck charm for you to always have tea with you.

Though he’s wearing his hard-shell mask, you can tell the Lieutenant is raising an eyebrow at you. You brush past him, fiddling with the zipper on your pocket. “You coming?”

You swear you hear him breathe out a laugh as he follows you out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the tarmac.

“I’m starting to think I need to carry out uniform inspections.” Ghost says, reaching over you to hold the door back. Wind tousles your hair as you step outside – the blades of the helicopter already spinning.

You cast a look at him over your shoulder in disbelief only to find his eyes creased teasingly. You scoff, hitting him softly with your glove – not yet on your hand. “Cigarettes aren’t standard issue either, LT. Cigars too – Captain wouldn’t be too happy.”

If he replies you don’t hear him, the roar of the chopper drowning everything out. Soap’s waiting by the door and you give him a pat on the shoulder as you clamber into the heli.

You’re being sent to Al Mazrah – the last known location of Hassan. It’s a short chopper ride to an airfield nearby and then a bumpy few hours in the metal belly of a military plane.

✧˚ · .

“All shooters have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation.” Laswell’s voice echoes in your head, “And be advised, Major Hassan is A.Q.’s lifeline – if he is there, they will die for him.”

You, Ghost and Soap are running point on the mission with a group of MARSOC Marines ordered by Laswell to assist. A rough landing and a rushed briefing later and you’re in a chopper heading for the field.

“Bravo team offloads here.” Ghost calls over the roar of the helicopter as it lowers to the ground, the red light casting an ominous glow as he marches through the hull of the chopper. “Alpha team stays onboard to land downrange. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill.”

You’re on Alpha team, Ghost gives you a single nod and Soap bumps your fist as they exit the heli.

“Keep up, Soap.” The Lieutenant growls and Soap gives you a grin before following suit.

The ramp closes behind and your friends are out of sight. The helicopter shakes and flares light up the sky. You make your way to the cockpit, the pilot is yelling into the comms.

“Incoming – Flares! Flares!”

The whole chopper jolts to the side and you just manage to hear someone over the radio scream “second missle!” when the world explodes around you. Fire and metal and smoke consumes you as the heli careens towards the ground. You dive forwards into the cockpit further, heart racing.

“Razor 1 going down! We’re going down!” The pilot calls and the vehicle meets the ground with a sickening screech.

Not a single limb escapes the impact and flames sear into your vision. Something is buzzing in your ear and you hack out a cough, raising a hand to the comms.

“Alpha what’s your status?!” Ghost growls in your ear and through the haze you can hear the panic. “Alpha, how copy?”

You crane your neck, taking a quick inventory of the bodies strewn around – some still, some moving.

“Bravo,” you manage to rasp, lungs burning. You lean over the pilot, fingers pressed under his jaw and against his neck. “Alpha is immobile. Multiple critical!”

Glass sprays as bullets spew in your direction, you lunge to the ground, swearing.

“Shit!” You swear, comms still on. “We’re taking effective fire here, LT!”

You can hear Ghost swear back, “Alpha, we’re moving to building 1. Hold tight!”

You grit your teeth, you know he can’t just rush over to your aid. The priority is Hassan. You can hear Soap argue in the background but Ghost shuts him down.

“Roger that, LT.” You reply, ducking as another round is sent your way. You fling a flash-bang back before popping up and returning fire.

You turn around, a young marine called “Red” has managed to pull the wounded inside and flagged the dead. You continue providing cover as he works. It’s dark out but the flames fuck with your night vision. The enemy has the advantage. You take aim at a small group in the treeline, gasping when a single bullet burrows into your shoulder. Pain flares and the impact sends you into the control panel.

“Fuckin’ sniper,” you warn the other soldiers as you push yourself up, “watch it, we’re sitting ducks here.”

“Affirmative.” One replies, from where he crouches near the now-lowered ramp.

“Alpha 0-2, Bravo 0-7.” Ghost crackles through your earpiece and you almost sigh with relief.

“Tell me you’ve got some good news for me, LT.”

“Building two secure,” he says by way of assurance, “We’re coming for you.”

“Roger,” you respond, signalling to the marine by the ramp to hold his fire. “Ramp’s down – we’re waiting for you.”

You stumble over to the man kneeling amongst the bodies, holding your shoulder as the figures of Ghost and Soap enter the heli. “What’s the total, Red?”

“We got five KIA and one wounded, not including you,” the soldier says, stumbling to his feet.

“Including you?” Ghost asks, as he and Soap come to stand in front of you.

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, we need to move him though.” You say, pointing at the wounded soldier.

Ghost shakes his head, eyeing the window, gun raised. “No time. They’re here. Get your gun on that treeline.”

You catch some ammo Soap throws your way. “I’ve had my fucking gun on that treeline the whole time, there’s too many.”

Bullets ping off the hull of the heli and you return fire, struggling to see through the haze of the flames, your shoulder burning.

“Got movement.” Soap calls from your right, squinting through his scope.

“Engage!” Ghost responds, firing rounds at the figures moving through the trees.

You spot movement and move your scope to get a closer look. “Shooters at the wall!” You warn.

“You fuckin’ called it, LT.” Soap says, swearing as he ducks to reload.

The smokey haze is impossible to penetrate and you pull your night vision visor back just as a projectile soars in your direction.

“RPG!” Red yells, the warning useless as your very bones vibrate as it explodes agains the side of the heli. An arm wraps under yours, pulling you to your feet.

“Gun up, Rags.” He says roughly, already raising his gun. “They’re getting close!”

Your wound throbs as the butt of your rifle returns to your shoulder but you make quick work of a group of hostiles running towards the chopper.

“We clear?” Soap asks after what seems like hours but is only mere minutes.

Ghost squints through his scope, the gunfire has ceased but flares roar. “For now,” he raises an hand to his ear, “7-6, call for fire. I want air on that treeline.“

He turns to you, “Air-support’s three minutes out. Stay sharp.”

The wreckage shakes with a loud thrum and you stumble into Ghost. He rights you, raising his gun.

“They’re launching fucking grenades!” You cry, mirroring your Lieutenant, reloading and picking off the hostiles before they can launch more.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a man fall to the ground. “Red’s hit! Man down!”

Ghost steps in front of you are you make for the marine. “He’s dead. Keep your gun up, Sergeant.”

Tears burn in your eyes. He was so young.

You force yourself to ignore Red’s body as you take up his position by the ramp.

“Ghost, we should fall back to the house,” you hear Soap call over the bullets and explosions.

“Negative.” is the Lieutenants gruff response, “We clear this position and push hard. If Hassan’s still here, he’s out ahead.”

✧˚ · .

“LT, I spot armoured vehicles! There’s four of them!” A marine from Bravo team calls out.

“Conserve your ammo,” the Lieutenant calls back, “Let ‘em get close.”

The comms crackle, notifying you of incoming air-support. You send back an affirmative, tensing against Ghost who crouches next to you as the vehicles are cleared – the heat of the explosion flaring as the heli rocks,

He pats you once on the shoulder and you wince. He doesn’t notice, gesturing you to follow and you quickly reload before moving after him. The rugged roads and graveyard of exploded vehicles soon morphs into fields and you flick your night vision visor back down, the light of the flames behind you.

“There’s a sniper up ahead, Rags you take point.” Ghost calls as you run towards the second building.

He grips your wrist for a second and you turn, gun poised away from him as you give him a questioning look. He gestures to a body on the right, a marine. Your heart sinks. You follow Ghosts hand and where he points to the rifle in the dead marine’s grip.

He covers you as you sling your G3 across your back, prising the weapon from the mans grip. You quickly asses it for any damage and nod to Ghost – it’s in good shape. The Lieutenant follows, guarding your six as you squint through the scope. You can see a flash from the roof, something reflective is catching the flames from the distance. The sniper. Now knowing his position you find him immediately through your scope and take a deep breath before firing. The bullet zips through the air, the silencer giving a sharp huff of air.

“Good shot there, Rags,” Soap clasps your shoulder and you flash him a grin.

“Not just here to look pretty, mate.” You respond, moving towards the building, covering the squad from your vantage point. Air-support opens fire on the other side of the building and you take it was your chance to enter. Now is the hard part – find Hassan dead or alive.

✧˚ · .

Taglist

@crosshairs773fp @alanalanalanalanalanna @ghostlythots @hyperfixationwhore @shinebright2000 @sae1kie @zozosrandomthings @hotaruteba @01trickster10 @karurururu @moonsua1 @rorel1a @http-paprika @thriving-n-jiving @lazybutsmexy

Reply if you want to be added :)

Masterlist

138 notes · View notes

ashes-writing · 1 year

Text

outer banks ● one girl two guys pt 7 ● j.maybank + t.thornton

warnings

reader and abandonment issues / tough girl vibes, mentions of Topper's own home issues ( the fucking wicked bitch of the island imo), jealousy, angst. people doing literally every thing but the most sensible thing, treasure hunts / other shenanigans, violence / confrontations and name calling on occasion, reader does not get along with Kiara or Sarah, kissing / body fluids exchanged, eventual filth -sooner than ya'll think tbh, alcohol / w**d + smoking.

<- reader/you are female. with female parts. and clothing/personality/other stuff that I came up with during the writing. This is me being self-indulgent yet again and I'm not sorry.

word count

2167 exactly. for missing context ( part 6 ) can be found by clicking. For context sake, this takes place a few days after part 6.

summary

-- you find yourself caught between loyalty -and love, for your longtime best friend JJ Maybank.. and growing feelings for Topper Thornton, a Kook. This won't be messy at all, right?

taglist + shoutouts

-- taglist is here. if you'd like to be tagged in my outer banks stuff please lmk or add yourself by clicking the link.

@tbmunson babessss you.. are amazing. i love you so so so so much and you always inspire me. i hope you like this bc.. drama.

@valentineshiftz your comments always make me feel warm and so fuzzy and I love you for this, you don't know how much it means to me. I can't thank you enough.

@writingreadinglurkingandsmirking your reactions, oh my goddd.. they make my day so much brighter and I lowkey wanna cry every time because it means so much to me that you're getting a kick out of reading this as i am writing it. thank you sm.

@stilesstilinskisgf omg sweetie, you're too sweet and I lowkey wanted to cry because your comment made me so happy to read. I love you sm, thank you, thank you, thank you.

@music4life42 i thought i'd tag you bc you asked to be tagged in everything, feel free to ignore, babes! ilysm!

other links

masterlist ● jj's masterlist ● toppers masterlist ● about + rules

The storm that's been hanging over the island all day finally settles in just as you get comfortable in bed. You tense as loud thunder rattles the glass of your bedroom window and when lightning comes right behind it and it's just a little too close for comfort, you rush to close the tapestry you have strung up over your window.

The volume on the television goes up higher too, just to drown out the silence in the house because your mom cut out for parts unknown in the wee morning hours so she might not be back for the night. You'll be lucky if she's back in days, today was payday for her, after all.

As the storm rages on outside, you find yourself reaching for the phone at least two times but you stop yourself short of texting him.

Because he's a nice guy but he might not get your stupid and childish fear of really bad storms.

And the boy who does get it, well.. he's probably too busy to be bothered tonight. You know he made up with Kiara, they were all over each other when you saw him pick her up from her shift earlier.

You're doing just fine and staying just a little calm right up to the point that the thunder rolls louder and your windows rattle even more and the lights and TV flicker off only to turn right back on two times in a row.

When the lights go out entirely and they don't just turn back on right away then the panic sets in a little more. Becomes a little harder to ignore.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

Your gaze settles on the leak in the corner of your bedroom and given that you're not keen on sitting in total darkness and silence, you slip out of your bed, stumbling through the darkness and chaos in the living room to the kitchen. Digging in the junk drawer produces a few candles left over from the ones you bought before Agatha made landfall earlier in the summer. You're halfway through digging around for a big pot to place below the leak in your ceiling when the door is pounded on.

"Who the hell is even out in this shit?" you're wondering to yourself as you gather pan, candles and a long nose lighter as well as a bag of blue fuego takis and one of your creamed sodas.

"Hey!"

Its Topper calling out to you as he pounds on the door. You make your way over to the door and set down your armload to open it.

A loud boom sends you flinching, jumping up a little and Topper steps into you, slipping his arms around you. "It's okay."

"I know. I just hate storms." you mumble and you feel so childish for being afraid that you won't look up at him. The lightning strikes nearby and he grabs you by the hips and steps into your house, locking the door behind him.

"Can I stay here again tonight?" he asks quietly. And he knows that it might seem stupid or clingy to you but after the latest fight with his mother, the only person he wanted to see was you.

He's afraid that he's coming off too clingy, that it has to seem weak, pathetic that he can't stay away but the pull to you is too hard to keep fighting.

And he doesn't want to anymore.

"Yeah.. i.. I was actually thinking about calling you."

Oh the way he feels to hear you admit that. But he doesn't say anything to let on how much it means.

"You were, huh?"

"Mhm." You're looking down til he tilts your chin to make you look at him. "Storms scare you."

You nod. Grumble and give him a little shrug. "I know. It's dumb."

"It's not though. It's okay to be scared." Topper pulls you close by the hips and he's staring down at you, lost in thought. A million miles away it seems. You seem to melt into him as he says it's okay to be scared and he lets you.

You pull away a little because you don't want to seem clingy and you really don't want to start needing him -it's already too late for that- and he nods to the candles and lighter. "We should probably light those. This storm is only gonna get worse.. that's what they were saying on the radio on my way over."

"Yeah." you grab the candles and the lighter and make your way into your bedroom, forgetting all about the pot you grabbed for your roof leak.

The two of you set to quietly lighting every candle you have in your room already plus the three you'd gotten from the kitchen and then you flop down on your bed. Topper follows suit and as he pulls off his t-shirt, you're staring, glad you're behind him and he's totally unaware. He settles in beside you and more loud thunder sends you scrambling to hide your face.

In his chest.

He slips an arm between your legs and pulls you so that you're draped over him and then he wraps his arms around you, chuckles quietly. "Thats.. that's okay, right?"

"Yeah." you mumble, forgetting that you're nearly mouth to mouth with the way he's holding you. When our lips graze his, his breath catches and he wonders if it'll ever come out. "It's just a storm. I'm right here, alright? I'm not going anywhere." his mouth brushes yours with each whispered word and when he caresses your cheek you can't stop the whine that escapes. You want to kiss him so bad that your lips tingle and for a few seconds, you forget to breathe. He hears the cute little sound of course and when he does he just can't take it another second. He needs to kiss you.

It’s the only thing he’s been sure of with any kind of absolute certainty all summer.

“Top-?” you barely get his name out and his mouth is against yours. His tongue probing at your mouth til it falls open and you’ve grabbed hold of his shoulder, nails against his skin as you immediately start to kiss back. He bites back a groan as you melt into him completely, a hand gripping the column of his neck to deepen the kiss and cling to him as much as you can. One of his hands slides up your back and tangles up in your hair. Neither one of you can breathe properly, and there are colored dots lining the edge of your vision. When you nip at his lips, he rocks himself up into you before he can stop it from happening.

You both pull away, catching your breath. You’re staring at the way you kissed back hard enough to swell his lips and he’s caressing your face and the side of his neck. Smoothing damp hair out of your eyes so that it’s behind your ear.

But you already miss his mouth against yours so you’re leaning in all over again before you even realize it’s happening. Your noses bump together and laughter is swallowed by a softer kiss. Gentle pecks that turn into a kiss so deep that you can’t tell where he stops and you start. His hands are wandering over your body and you whine into his mouth, making him chuckle quietly at the sound.

Every part of his brain is frantic. Screaming at him to stop. Reminding him he’s only gonna end up hurt all over again when he needs you too much or he wants you too much and you finally see just how weak he really is. How desperate he is for you to feel the same way about him that he does you.

Because it is weak.

The kiss breaks a second time and you’re staring down at him, dazed. Confused because you were not expecting him to kiss you, especially not like that, all needy and frantic, like you were water and he wanted to drink you up.

“Topper..”

He tenses. Jaw fluttering. “I shouldn’t have.. I-” he’s about to apologize but you laugh softly. Press your finger into his lips. “Don’t apologize. I-I.. I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted to kiss you first, I just..” your words die out and you’re dragging your fingers over defined muscles because staring at his bare chest and tracing the hard planes with your fingers is just so much easier than saying everything all at once.

Having him realize that you’re dangerously close to falling and being put off by it, and possibly, most likely, abandoning you just like others have in the past.

,, Even JJ got sick of you. This won’t be any different. Don’t say it, don’t you dare say it.”

And you listen to your mind instead of your heart or your gut.

“Just what?” Topper asks. “C’mon, talk to me.”

“Nothing.. I was just scared to do it.” you tell him what you can safely admit for now. Your eyes settle on his lips and you’re staring hard enough that he chuckles quietly. “Do you want me to kiss you again, __?”

“Y-yeah.” you breathe out the word, shaky. “I do.”

Topper’s hand catches in your hair and he pulls your mouth back down against his mouth greedily. Hungry. Devouring your mouth with his mouth. When the thunder rattles at your window again, you jump a little and his fingers dig against your body. “Pay attention t’me. Not the storm, baby.” he mumbles, his words swallowed in the kiss.

And the way your heart flutters just a little when he calls you baby.

His hand slips beneath the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing and you gasp, your nails dig against his chest, leaving crescents in his skin as you do so. He growls against your mouth quietly, a hand gathering the soft and thin fabric of your tie-dye shirt. When his hands finally settle on your ass to hold you on top of him, you whine into the kiss and nip at his mouth, breathless.

Rubbing against him, though the first time is purely by accident. He sucks in a harsh breath and his fingers dig against your ass. Squeezing. The more he kisses you and holds you like this. The more you squirm against his body, the harder he gets. And he’s trying so hard not to think about it or make things awkward. He doesn’t want you to think all he wants is to get laid. He wants you to know he wants you.

All to himself.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip,drip.

The little noise filters into your awarenesses at the same time and Topper breaks the kiss. “Is your ceiling leaking, baby?”

You palm your face and nod. “I forgot to bring the stupid pot in here to catch the water.”

“Hang on. I’ve got it.”

You’re laughing as he stands, letting you cling to him with your legs squeezing his waist. He stubs a toe in the darkened living room, “Shit.” and you’re giggling quietly. He pretends to pout. “That’s not funny, love.”

“No, but also yes. I’m sorry this place is practically a goddamn trap house.” you mumble against his skin and he shakes his head. “It’s cozy.”

“Topper, the back door doesn’t lock and the roof leaks in like.. Seven places. You’re staying in a glorified hostel when you crash here.”

“You’re here though.” he admits, face burning hot as he locks eyes with you while picking up the forgotten pot from the table right beside the front door. You swallow hard. Let what he’s saying -and the look in his eyes as he says it, sink in.

But before you even dare to give yourself an ounce of hope, that inner pessimism is out in full force. Reminding you that if you’re smart you won’t get used to him. Or any of this. Because when it’s gone again, it’s only gonna hurt you so much more.

The thing is, it’s too late. And you’re torn between enjoying the moment and waiting on the other shoe to drop. Waiting on the day everything goes back to exactly the way it was before.

Dreading it when it happens.

He carries you back into your room and gently drops you down onto your mattresses piled on the floor that serve as your bed. Then he turns on his phone to use as a flashlight and slides the pot beneath the leak in the corner of your room. And on his way back to your bed, he stops to light a few of the candles that went out because they’d burned a little too long.

And then he’s settling in beside you again, slipping an arm between your legs again to pull you back on top of him so he can fall asleep holding you. Because nothing else really matters to him right now but doing that.

#jj maybank #topper thornton #jj maybank imagine #topper thornton imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #topper thornton fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #topper thornton fanfic #jj maybank x fem!reader #topper thornton x fem!reader #jj maybank x yn #topper thornton x yn #<- my writing ● jj maybank #<- my writing ● topper thornton #<- warnings | complicated relationship dynamics / eventual filth / jealousy / angst / nothing to lovers ● see other warnings above.#<- warning | female reader ( female parts / hair / clothing / personality + nicknames / petnames )#fandom (outer banks) ● season ( 2/3... alternate universe ) ● characters ( topper thornton + jj maybank )#-- this one got a little... heated whew.#-- and it's uh.. leading up to.. things.

67 notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 2 years

Text

Reunited

Illumi x Reader

Part 6

pt 5

pt 7

If there was one thing (Name) disliked, it was waiting. She liked to think herself a patient girl, but she wasn’t. (Name) didn’t like the anxiety of being unsure of what would happen next, especially when her friends futures hung in the balance.

She’d been waiting for nearly an hour for Gon and the others to arrive. A few minutes earlier she’s watched Hisoka carry Leorio into the clearing and lean him against a tree, winking at her as he did so.

As soon as he left, she joined Leorio’s side and tended to his wound as best she could, which was mostly just applying a wet rag to his swollen cheek. For a moment she wondered who had hit him, but deep down she felt Hisoka was to blame… and maybe herself.

After all, Hisoka had shown great interest in her, she worried he might hurt her friends just to see her reaction. He seemed like the kind of guy that would love to see her cry.

Killua had also been there for a while. He’d gotten there a little after her and had been glued to her side since. She pondered his strange behavior for a moment while she patted his head, which caused him to stiffen then swat her hand away. (Name) found that very cute.

He sat next to her now, watching her tend to Leorio with curious, cat like eyes. She didn’t really mind, she was just glad he wasn’t avoiding her now.

Though she could do without him following her to use the bathroom. It was uncomfortable enough having to squat in a bush, much less have a 12 yo waiting a few yards away, asking how much longer you’d take.

10 minutes earlier

Killua looked around his surroundings, noticing Gon had gone missing.

“Hm… hope he’ll be alright.”

He tried his best to not worry. He’d seen Gon’s strength and abilities first hand, so he was less worried Gon would die and more worried he’d fail the exam.

As he got closer to the finish line, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath.

When he looked at the ground, he noticed something strange. A picture was on the ground, covered in muck.

When he cleaned it off, he froze, nearly dropping the picture.

In it was… his brother. And…

“(Name)!!??”

Memories began flooding back.

A toddler Killua, around 3-4 years old followed after his older brother through the crowded forest, keeping a good distance away as to not be detected.

He watched his brother meet with a girl. Killua didn’t know Illumi had a friend, much less a GIRL friend. He stuck around until Illumi left, following the girl on her way home.

Once far enough away from Illumi, he made his presence known to the girl.

“Hey, you.”

(Name) stopped, glancing around to find the source of the voice calling out to her.

Killua appeared behind her, giving her a once over.

“Hello, I’m Illumi’s brother, but before I say anything else, promise you won’t tell him we’ve met.”

(Name) looks at him confused. She wondered if this was normal behavior for Illumi’s family, as he was quite odd when they first met as well.

“Um, alright. Promise.”

The boy stared for what seemed like forever, then grinned.

“Got any candy?”

The two made quick friends. (Name) introduced herself and explained her and Illumi’s relationship. She blushed when Killua asked if they were dating and refused to speak further on that.

The two began to meet up the same as with Illumi. After he left, Killua would appear. The first few times he scared (Name), but by the 5th time she was used to it.

Killua had become quite fond of the girl. She was kind and honest, which were two things he often didn’t see in the people around him. If he was being honest with himself, she was more of a mother figure to him than a friend, but he would never admit to that.

When Illumi left to go see (Name) for the last time, Killua happened to have training that day and was running late.

‘Maybe I’ll meet her at her house this time. I could even hide and then jump out and scare her!’

He wiped the after practice sweat from his forehead and grinned, pulling off his dirty shirt and putting on a new, clean one.

As he left his room, he stopped by the stairs. He saw his mother talking with a strange looking man, someone with the aura of a trained killer.

He pretended to walk past, uninterested in the conversation, only catching the end of it.

“And make sure that girl is DEAD. I won’t have my son going to meet with some whore and ruining his future. Make it seem like a terrorist attack or something, just get it done.”

Killua had to do his best not to freeze in place. He continued to walk past, ignoring his mom trying to pull him in for an icy cold hug.

“Going to play for a bit.”

Killua ran faster than he ever had before. He felt deep in his stomach that if he didn’t, she would be dead before he got there. On the way, he sensed Illumi leaving, and only stopped to hide while his brother passed by. He was usually less observant on the way back from his visits.

When Killua finally reached (Name), he was in hysterics. He didn’t often cry, but he was crying now, snot running down his face.

(Name) felt something wrap it’s arms around her waist and bury its face into her back, and from the looks of the long nailed hands…

“Killua? Killua sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Her sweet, mother like voice made his heart ache even more, his tears soaking the back of her overalls.

“You’re gonna… they’re gonna…”

(Name) turned and crouched down, pulling his head into her chest to soothe him. (Name) had siblings, so seeing a child cry like tugged at her heartstrings.

“It’s okay, take your time. What’s going to happen?”

An hour later and (Name) was gone. After explaining as much as he could, he took her home and made sure her parents knew that they were in danger.

Normally they wouldn’t just believe that, but a child of the Zoldyck family telling them that their daughter was going to be assassinated sure helped her case.

He had to leave after that to not cause any suspicion, so he didn’t get to make sure she actually survived. Illumi’s reaction when he came back from killing the “terrorist” and visiting her home didn’t really give Killua much hope.

Over time Killua forgot about her, to protect his heart.

Until now.

Present Time

Killua watched (Name), a content look on his face. He reminded (Name) of a cat that had just been given a can of tuna.

“Two more have qualified!”

(Name) lifted her head up just in time to see Kurapika and Gon arrive, quickly hunching over to catch their breath. (Name)’s face brightened.

“Over here!” she called. The two walked over slowly, seeing Leorio starting to wake up with a huge bump in his cheek.

“Ah, (Name), you made it.”

Kurapika was the first to speak after catching his breath. He offered her a smile.

“Yeah, I’m pretty surprised I was able to make it myself.”

She decided to keep her needing to be saved to herself. It embarrassed her just a little bit that she couldn’t go through the swamp by herself, but directions weren’t her strong suit. No matter, this was a good lesson for her and she’d be more prepared next time.

“Don’t sell yourself short, you were even here before me.”

Killua plopped down beside (Name), leaning his head on her shoulder.

For just a second he was back to being a little kid, leaning on (Name)’s shoulder while she gently brushed her fingers through his hair. She never complained about having to watch him and always listened to him cry about his situation. He wishes he was that kid again now, but he wasn’t, and she didn’t even remember him.

As quickly as he leaned on her shoulder, he leaned back and stood.

“I’ll be right back.”

They all watched him walk away. Gon looked between Killua and (Name).

Gon hadn’t known Killua long, but Killua didn’t seem the type to relax so easily around someone he didn’t know. He stored this interaction in his mind for later.

“Ah… my head.”

(Name) quickly turns towards Leorio who was groggily blinking, rubbing his cheek with a scowl on his face.

—————

“Phase Two of the exam will occur here, in the Biska Forest Park. Best of luck to all of you.”

After his last few words of encouragement, Mr. Satotz walked away back where they came.

The group of renaming applicants were left in front of a large gate, which began opening as Mr. Satotz was out of sight.

“Will all applicants who passed the First Phase please enter?”

Inside of the gated walls was a mansion sized home with two figures sitting in front of the door. One was a tall, rotund man, another a petite woman.

“Welcome. I’m Manchi, the Second Phase examiner,” the petite girl called, relaxing against her chair. The man behind her smiled widely.

“And I’m Buhara, the other examiner.”

The crowd joined the two examiners in the front yard of the mansion, silent before they hear something akin to a rawr.

“What was that sound?”

The petite girl looked back to her large companion.

“You must be hungry.”

“I’m starving…”

Manchi stood from her seat with a huddle. “There yiu have it! Phase Two will involve…”

(Name) tilted her head.

“Cooking!”

The crowd broke out into whispers, and some angry complaints.

“Wait, cooking!? We’re here to take the Hunter Exam!”

“Your challenge for the second Phase is to produce a dish that will satisfy both of our palates.”

“Why do we have to cook?”

She put her hands on her hips, seemingly a bit irritated.

“That’s because we are Gourmet Hunters.”

(Name) jumped to attention. If cooking for gourmet hunters was what she needed to do, she would try her best. She was the daughter of a baker and chef after all, she wasn’t a novice in the kitchen.

Most of the crowd begins laughing, insulting the Gourmet Hunters. The once only slightly irritated Manchi looked angry now.

“Buhara.”

He stepped forward and banged his stomach like a gong.

“The required ingredient is pork. You’re free to use meat from any species of Biska Forest pigs. You must use the cooking facilities here to prepare the pork, and you only pass if we both find it delicious.”

“And we will evaluate more than just the taste, so don’t underestimate the intricacies of cooking. Got it? When we’ve both eaten our fill, the exam will end.”

“We get it, let’s just start.”

Manchi sighs, and Buhara raises his hand.

“Then, the exams Secind Phase begins now!”

With the bang of his stomach, all of the contestants leave the area to search for their main dish.

252 notes · View notes

excelsi-or · 7 months

Text

summoned (pt. 9)

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 2.6k

After some maneuvering, they make it back to the car. The hand that had been enveloped in his goes straight for one of the cool cans in the bag. She sighs in relief.

"Have you told Seokmin?"

"Not yet. Surprisingly, I need free hands to text or call." She goes to Jihoon's car screen and taps around. "Doesn't this thing do calling?"

"What?"

"You have a GPS and a touch screen in your car. There must be a way to call people."

Jihoon scoffs. "I don't know. The fancy gadgets don't interest me."

"Demons are surprisingly useless." She says it with a laugh, so it soothes some of Jihoon's annoyance. Giving up on figuring out his car, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and calls Seokmin, putting him on speaker.

"Isn't he at work?"

"You expected me to tell him when my hands were full, and now, you're concerned that he's busy?" It's the first time Jihoon's heard actual irritation in the human's voice. "Seokmin owns the company anyway."

"We dropped him off at a law firm."

She shrugs. "Perks of being the oldest, I guess." She holds the phone up between them as it rings.

"Not in human years, he's not."

"He bought the company a few years after we graduated high school." She waves him to be quiet when the phone connects. "Seokminnie."

"You need something. What is it?"

She chuckles. "The demon needs you to come on an escapade with us later this evening."

Jihoon shakes his head. "Tomorrow. We're not going to be back in time for it to all seem normal."

An idea pops into her head. "You know who we can send? Hansol. One sec, Seokminnie." She adds Hansol to the call. The boy's voice sounds distracted when he answers. "Hey, Sollie. Just five minutes."

Hansol takes a deep breath, as if he's just come up for air. "You're on a timer. What do you need?"

"I need you to go to Mrs. Han's convenience store with Seokmin today."

Hansol hesitates. "Why...?"

"I'm not trying to set you up with Ara, relax. Jihoon and I need you to get into Mrs. Han's back room."

"What?"

She catches him up. And luckily, her best friend takes all the confusing news in stride. He'll pepper her with questions later, but for now, Hansol manages to contain all of his curiosity.

"So, we need you to get into her back office and see what exactly is going on in there. I know you can't see what I can see or what Jihoon and Seokmin can see, but we know that Mrs. Han will only step away to talk with an angel. That angel is going to have to be Seokmin."

"It's most likely bodies back there, Hansol," Jihoon says. "But if you can also figure out why this angel would have those bodies, hey, that'd be great."

Hansol clears his throat, and they all hear the alarm go off on his end. Seokmin jumps in here. "We'll deal with it. Sol, I'll pick you up after I'm done at work and we'll head over there. We can even stop into the flower shop for a bit."

She smiles at Hansol's awkward sputtering. "Stay safe, you two."

That sobers Hansol up. "You too, noona."

Jihoon waits for the phone to be put away before he starts to speak. "That's only the first location."

"I know. But why did the demons choose these specific spots?" She leans back in her seat, watching the city go by. "Why the convenience store? The abandoned building makes sense, because it's unlikely that humans will stumble upon it. But people walk into Mrs. Han's convenience store all day. Why there?"

"Say your mother's hospital isn't the only place they're collecting bodies."

"Don't you need to have a susceptible host to possess?"

"We're not parasites," Jihoon argues. "I could possess you right now if I wanted."

She shakes her head. "No, because I have a strong will. You guys choose humans who are weak-willed or vulnerable."

Jihoon's eyes narrow, taking his gaze off the road for a moment.

She uses the bottom of the cola can to turn his face back to the road. "Mom made sure that I knew that none of the demons who entered our home would hurt me. And that if any of them tried anything on me, that a strong will to live was a sufficient deterrent for a demon." She motions towards Jihoon. "Clearly didn't work on you, but it's worked on every other demon I've met."

Jihoon scowls. Even if he wanted this human's soul, there is no reasonable way to get it. However, it's really difficult to tell if she even has a soul. Which has been the most unsettling part about this human among all the things that unsettle him. He's wondered a few times since meeting her parents whether the ambiguity comes from the angel and demon blood in her veins.

"What I don't understand," Jihoon says, bringing them back to the task at hand, "is why an angel would be involved. In the off-chance event that that woman befriended a demon, why would she get involved? Your parents keep their angel and demon jobs separate."

"You and Seokmin don't." She gauges his expression and changes the subject. "We're just coming up with more questions and no solutions."

They settle into their thoughts. He can tell she's falling asleep next to him again. He digs around the center console for any CDs to pass the time (while also manipulating time and space a bit to ease the car a bit faster).

"Here," she mumbles. Drowsily, she sits up again and plays around with the touch screen.

Jihoon watches out of the corner of his eye. "What are you doing?"

"Connecting my phone to your car." A ding sounds through the car. Now, that they don't need to call anyone, the car is completely compliant. "It's paired. So," she settles back and closes her eyes again, "just ask Siri to play music."

"Who's Siri?"

"The woman in my phone."

"The who?"

"Mom trapped a woman in my phone to do things for me."

Jihoon gapes at her, but the human has her face turned away from him and is curled up ready to sleep. "And she does them willingly?"

She hums. "She's never disobeyed me before. Only issue is if she's been sleeping a while, so the connection is bad or she just doesn't understand what I'm saying."

Jihoon's brow furrows.

"Try it. Ask her to play something." When he doesn't, she looks over at him. The expression on Jihoon's face elicits a chuckle. "When was the last time you were on Earth?"

"Just before the millennium."

She smirks before curling back onto her side. "Hey, Siri, play 90s music."

They arrive at the hospital in record time. When she wakes and sees the time, she pats her body to make sure she's still in one piece. Jihoon's grumbling under his breath to her overreaction is just a cherry on top.

"What floor does your mom work on?" Jihoon asks as they head towards the main entrance.

"Don't know the floor, but I know she works in the ICU."

Putting the ex-right hand in the ICU to source bodies for whatever the cause is, is almost too genius. Jihoon trails after the human, taking in all the people hanging around the lobby. It's teeming with people, wheelchairs, students, volunteers, nurses, and doctors. Many of them are headed to the coffee shop; others are sat in the lobby chairs.

She bypasses the volunteers at the reception desk and heads straight for the elevators.

"Do you know where you're going?" Jihoon asks.

She points to the sign that tells them the floor of the ICU before pressing the call button for the elevator. "We're going to have to look through the hospital records."

"Okay. You have a plan?"

"You're the plan."

"I'm the what?"

Luckily, the elevator is empty. "Mom sent me a list of the names of the patients that she can remember. For us to find them, alive or not, I need to find these records. And if you don't mind, I'd like if you distracted every person of authority that might ask me what the hell I'm doing." She leads him off the elevator. "And we might have to meet some of your demon friends today."

"We what?" Jihoon groans.

"She warned me that the demons are asking for more bodies. She says they didn't have anyone until today. So, your friends may be here."

"Not my friends." His hand goes red before slipping into hers. He lets out one long yawn.

"Oh, we're just done asking for permission." She adjusts her grip in his. "You've now also 1) put a timer on us, and 2) made it so we have to be seen together."

"Then you're going to have to work fast."

Jihoon swears he hears her grumbling about the uselessness of demons. She smiles at the nurses at the front desk and slips around the side. Jihoon catches the women watching them, but he easily diverts their attention back to their work.

Suddenly, she bends over as if to tie her shoe.

"You can't let go of my hand. I've already counted two demons and we've been here all of four seconds," Jihoon hisses.

She straightens up with a key card in her hand. Jihoon frowns before he realizes that it's her mother's. They continue down the hallway, her eyes darting to the doors to find the right one while trying to look casual.

Jihoon suddenly stops. "It has to be this one."

She glances around. It doesn't look that different from the others they passed. "Why?"

"Reinforced steel, key card access required, and it isn't labeled like the other doors." Jihoon tugs her closer. "Humans are so worried about personal information theft."

This time, he thinks he hears her praising him, but he isn't quite sure because the beep of the key card granting them access overpowers her voice. They duck inside and are met with not only filing cabinets, but also a computer at the desk. She leads him to the desk and shakes the mouse.

"What?" Jihoon asks. Her expression looks annoyed. Unusual for this human, which in and of itself seemed unusual for humans. The general look of annoyance seemed universal.

"We need a password, which I don't have." She turns to the filing cabinets. "Which means we need to go through these by hand." Her fingers release his hand. "Which means I need this back."

Jihoon stands by the door, his eyes closed. "I'm giving you five minutes."

Human, human, human.

He hears the frantic flipping through the files.

Human, human, de—

Jihoon jerks back towards her and grabs her hand.

She hisses in pain, the burn causing her to drop to her knees. Jihoon gies her a gentle tug to her feet. He doesn't apologize, but he does burn his other hand and takes hers until the demon passes. Grumbling and taking steadying breaths, she flips through more files with her uninjured hand. There are no letters on the front of the drawers to denote what could be contained within the files. So, she has to check. Once she learns the filing system, she's able to systematically go through her mother's short list of names.

The burning in her hand is only mildly distracting, even when he lets go to stand by the door again. She swears Jihoon's manipulating her mind.

But even though she's distracted from the pain, her body is still reacting. Her eyes well up with tears, and she catches sight of the skin blistering as she flips through file after file. Then she has to rifle through papers, taking pictures of each one.

She manages to find all nine people, though she doesn't have the wherewithal to read anything fully.

"Get me out of here," she says. She debates holding out her good hand to redistribute the pain but decides against it. Even with whatever Jihoon's doing to her head, she feels discomfort when his skin makes contact with hers.

"Okay?"

The human's eyes keep going in and out of focus.

"Well, no." She blinks a few times. "But until I look properly, I won't know how bad it is."

Just as he's about to turn the door knob, he notices her hands are empty. "Where are the files?"

"Photos are on my phone. Get me out of here, please."

Jihoon guides her out of the room, past the nurses' station, and into the elevator. Where they wind up right next to a...

Demon.

Jihoon shifts closer to her, using her to block the demon's view of him. But he can see the demon eyeing them.

"Per chance... do I...?" The demon moves closer, but she doesn't turn her head.

"Dude, give me space." She takes a step towards Jihoon, brushing against him. "You're giving me the creeps."

The change in her tone is surprising. Jihoon tries not to react.

"I did not mean to—"

"Seriously." She looks him dead in the eye. "Back. Off."

"Ah." The demon huffs, and his voice deadpans. "I do know you." He returns to his side of the elevator. "You're Xero's 'daughter'."

"Which is why I told you to back off, demon."

"That is Linnaeus to you." Linnaeus glances over at Jihoon. "Who's this? You've got a boyfriend now, hmm?"

"Yes. And you're also giving him the creeps." Luckily, the elevator doors open before Linnaeus can scrutinize them further. She squeezes Jihoon's hand to encourage him to get off first.

"A nice human boyfriend I see? Your mother surely would have preferred a demon."

"She also probably would have preferred to keep her soul and status. But needs must when the devil farts in your direction." She ignores Jihoon's snort of laughter as he drags her into the sunlight. "Have a good day, demon."

"Who says that?" Jihoon hisses, struggling to hide his smile. While he hates when humans take that sarcastic, cutting tone with him; with other demons, it's much more fun.

And from her, particularly charming.

Once out of Linnaeus's watchful eye, she slips her hand out of his. "I heard it in a Youtube video." As she walks around to her side of his car, she takes a breath before checking her hand. Her palm is warm, but surprisingly void of blisters. It also doesn't hurt as much as it had earlier. "Did you heal me?"

"I don't do that." He adjusts his hat, running his fingers through his hair before putting it back on. "Why?"

She shrugs. "Never mind. Thanks for fucking with my head in there."

Jihoon blinks in surprise. "Didn't know you noticed."

"The pain was initially excruciating." Her eyes move to her palm again. Baffled at how normal it feels. "I shouldn't have been able to focus in there."

As she begins scrolling through the pictures of the files she'd taken, Jihoon studies her profile.

"What?" She punches in the first address, triple checking that it's correct before hitting 'Go'. "You're staring."

"Does Linnaeus always talk to you like that?"

"Yeah." She opens and closes her hand. "I always tell him he doesn't blend in well because he talks quite archaic. Do you not think?" She makes a silly point of bowing, which makes Jihoon smile. Rolling her eyes, she continues, "So yeah, he's never really liked me much because of it."

"It'd help him blend in." Jihoon glances at the GPS before turning onto the route.

"And when have demons ever liked help from humans?" She snuggles back into the seat, already preparing to doze. "The other demons were more appreciative because it made it easier for them to do their demon deeds. Linnaeus just hates the constructive feedback."

"He's always been a pretentious jerk. Thought it was just to me, though." He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "Never heard you speak like that before."

"Linnaeus is always an exception."

part 10

#woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi fic

18 notes · View notes

god-is-a-dyke · 2 years

Text

Epidemiology Is The Best Episode Of Community And Here Is Why

I should have posted this around Halloween, but let’s be honest Epidemiology transcends time of year. It is and always will be the most episode of all time.

Yes, I recognize this is a bold statement considering some other pretty amazing episodes (Remedial Chaos Theory being the most obvious contender here). I will say I’m biased in a few different ways. However, i have 9 pages of notes about this episode and goddamnit if I’m not going to share them.

(i’ll put this under a cut because it will get long and i’m not sorry but i do respect people’s scrolling pleasure)

As someone growing up in the early 2000s/2010s, I was not immune to the craze of zombie entertainment. I watched The Walking Dead, Zombieland, and 28 Days Later. I played Left4Dead and the Telltale Walking Dead games. I read zombie apocalypse survival guides for fun.

However, let’s take a second to understand the risk Community undertook here. This is a sitcom that follows the day to day life of these characters we know and love. To drop them into an apocalyptic world requires finesse. There have to be real stakes, but we don’t want to lose too much. The writers have crafted this story that doesn’t rely on “it was a dream” or other tacky fake outs. So, let’s see how they do this.

1. THE LORE

pt 1 Infection

- “A rabies related pathogen causing hyperaggression”

A logical explanation for an illogical occurrence. With this one phrase, Rich grounds us in a reality where a disease like this could actually occur. All it would take is the right mutation of a certain virus strain.

A systemic infection must be transferred to a host and then spread throughout the body. A zombie bite does this by infecting the tissue and bloodstream. But, viruses can also spread through things such as our gastrointestinal tract. The bite is going to spread to the bloodstream much faster, hence the shorter incubation time; the early cases are due to the consumption of the tainted “army rations”.

Now what makes this infection so special? The other key to making this work in universe is maintaining a sliver of humanity in our zombies. They are who they were -- Annie studying, Jeff texting no body, Chang trying to kiss Shirley, and even Leonard turning away from Shirley after she intimidates him. The important thing is there’s still something to come back to. These aren’t rotting bodies of the undead, they’re still our favorite characters who hold their personalities, but now they’re just uninhibited (and crave human flesh).

pt 2 The Army

The events at Greendale on Halloween night are kept contained, by no accident. But it’s the extent to which it’s contained is unsettling to say the least.

- The Army Knew About The Taco Meat

This whole thing was supposed to be contained from the beginning, hence the warning label. But it begs the question, why was it available at the Army Surplus Store? How was the Dean able to to buy it in the first place?

- “The army’s gonna be here in 6 hours”

So here’s where it get’s fucked up. Rich says because of the fevers caused by the virus within 3 hours the infected will suffer brain damage and in another 3 they’ll be dead. Add it up and what do you get?

The army intends for everyone to infect each other and die off, and to simply come in clean up the remains of Greendale Community College. The Dean locks everyone in the school. They restrict the phone lines so nobody can call local emergency responders. At 6 hours on the dot, the army arrives and -- if you watch very carefully before they discover uninfected -- the man behind the leader of the response starts to pull a gun on the Dean: “The Only Witness”.

Once the uninfected are discovered they move to “Plan B” which is staging a mass roofie and wiping everyone’s memories of that night. Their initial plan is to just let everyone die. And I think most of us who have lived the past couple years in America will agree that this is..... quite on brand for the American Government.

All of this grounds the episode in our established world. A world of chaos, yet grounded in reality. This makes the episode possible. It changes the game of the zombie apocalypse media, perfect for a one off episode in a sitcom.

But I’m only getting started.

2. Character Progression/Dynamics

Despite the Special Episode vibes, this episode still moves the story along and stays true to the characters.

- Pierce and Starburns

Yeah uh... duh. There’s no other way a zombie apocalypse would start.

- Jeff and Britta

It’s later revealed that they’re secretly hooking up at this point, so their banter at the beginning of the episode establishes a flashback point. It’s also a point of stasis. We’re used to seeing Jeff and Britta poke around at each other, so we have this sense of familiarity to begin before the world literally falls apart.

- Rich and Britta

If there’s anyone in the group deluded enough to think they’d be the exception to getting the virus, it’s these two.

Rich is the most knowledgeable on the virus, without him they would all fail. Therefore, he thinks this knowledge makes him immune. He’s already served his purpose, however, so he no longer gets this immunity.

Britta... This doesn’t need much explaining. She puts up a façade. She thinks she can do more than she can. She thinks she is doing more than she is. But deep down, she’s lost and scared. She’s going to lose herself if she continues this hubris. This is just another example of this.

- Shirley and Chang

This could only happen during the end of days.

They find their common ground in the face of death. This sets up the arc for the rest of the season. Another roadblock for Shirley and Andre, conflict between Troy and Pierce, and more of Chang’s story.

- Annie

Listen man, Annie does the best she can to help, and is taken out through no fault of her own. But hey at least she gets the best shot in the episode. That window shot gets me every time.

Her nursing furthers her whole crush on Rich thing, and also is a smaller version of the healthcare role she plays again during the Pillows and Blankets war.

- Jeff

He tries to take up the leadership position in the basement, but ultimately that falls to Troy. Jeff claims to be so successful in life because he suppresses himself and focuses on outwards appearance. His obsession with his appearance leads to his demise. He opens the door because he doesn’t want to dirty his suit. He complains about Banana Rich stretching out his suit jacket as he’s dying. He refuses to engage in the “nerdy” end of the world antics. He’s still living in reality, but the apocalypse requires some degree of accepting the insanity and leaning into it.

Again, we have to remember these are the characters we know and love. We have to know they’ll be safe, but still worry about them. The show has to continue from here; even though their memories get wiped, this had to mean something.

But, wait. Someone is missing...

3. The Troy And Abed Of It All

Okay, so let’s just acknowledge right off the bat that these two are in love. Cool? Now we can move on.

Without Troy and Abed, this episode doesn’t work.

- This Is The Culmination Of Troy’s Early Character Development

This is Troy finally letting go of his jock persona, finally not worrying about how others view him. This parallel’s Jeff’s journey in this episode, which is why there’s such an emphasis on Jeff’s $600 suit and his texting. Troy has to see that in the face of death none of that is going to matter or save him. After this, Troy stops worrying as much: we get the blanket fort, the trampoline, his 21st birthday. He goes from a nerd to a jock and back to a nerd again.

He uses his jock persona as a safety blanket. He has come a long way since the pilot, but his anxieties and insecurities are so deeply rooted that they come out kicking sometimes.

- Trying To Ground Abed In Reality

Abed is the exact opposite of Jeff, Troy stands between them.

Abed is focused on the idea of saving the world by lowering the thermostat. He relinquishes power, and lets Jeff convince him that it won’t work. And hey, maybe if they had tried it then it wouldn’t have. Ultimately, he was right and the unreality was key, but the next 5 minutes are pivotal to Jeff and Troy’s story.

- Troy’s Voice After Leaving Abed

Look, I know we already set aside their love for each other but we can’t just fucking ignore this. It breaks me. He’s so broken. He just left behind his best friend. They just had a fight and then Abed sacrificed himself for Troy. Because no matter what he’s never going to not believe in Troy.

- Abed Is The Only One Who Can Get Troy To Be A Nerd Once And For All

When Abed gives up the illusion of the fantasy and focuses on escaping, Troy takes up that torch. He follows through with Abed’s plan, but Abed’s plan only works if you don’t bind yourself to the laws of reality.

- If Abed Was With Him, Troy Wouldn’t Have Gone Back In

This might be a stretch. Maybe they would have come up with another plan. Or found out the army’s plan.

But seeing Abed sacrifice himself for Troy after everything, Troy has nothing more to lose. That’s his other half, and he has to at least try to save him (and everyone else)

- Confronting The Zombies

The costume does help slow the zombies down to some extent, but it’s impractical and eventually given up. Troy has to give into the fantasy, but he can’t stray too far from reality. He needs both to survive.

Troy punches every single one of his friends. Except Abed. The only person who could get him there was the only person who could stand in the way of his success.

He still pushes through. Acknowledging Jeff once more. Both Abed and Jeff pulling him to their extremes in one way or another. But combined, they give him the push to complete his journey. Troy truly has the Heart of a Hero.

- Aftermath

There’s so much in the way they look at each other after being bandaged up. Troy and Abed know something is different. They might not know exactly what happened, but they know it was big. Something has changed. They have changed. But what’s important is they’re together. They survive when they work together.

This is Troy finally letting go and being the person he truly is inside. Thanks to Abed.

CONCLUSION

Maybe I’m biased. Maybe I’ve rambled on for hours. Maybe no one will ever read this.

Maybe I just prefer episodes that focus on Troy and Abed.

Maybe I just had an intense love for zombie stories as a kid and it’s bleeding into adulthood.

BUT

This episode is just so special to me for so many reasons. I really do think it’s one other the best episodes of Community and honestly of a lot of tv shows I’ve ever watched.

It’s an action filled episode with an ABBA Soundtrack. What more could you want?!

And most important of all........ the cat in the basement.

95 notes · View notes

iwadori · 3 years

Text

Haikyu boys when they make you insecure PT 1 (Kenma,Kuroo)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.

Word Count:3k

genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Kenma:

You and Kenma have been in a long distance relationship for a while.

Both of you stream, Kenma doing it seriously for his job and you just playing it for fun,

Sometimes you stream together of course but because of your difference in audiences and games you don’t do it all the time

“Bye guys! Hope you enjoyed todays stream” You wave off to the camera and shut off your PC taking a few sips of water.

Kenma: Hey.. nice stream today Y/N are you going to watch mine?

Y/N: Of course I will

Kenma: Ok talk to you later

Y/N: okayy <3

Kenma is what inspired you to stream, he also taught you all the ins and outs of streaming making sure you were set and ready. Your gaming style was very relaxed and friendly as you obviously weren’t streaming as a career just for fun and to make friends with your online viewers. The games you played were usually: minecraft, COD, Sims 4, Roblox, Animal crossing and *Insert your favourite game here* the way I literally named all the games I play

You wait for Kenmas stream to start, kind of excited as you’ve always loved seeing your boyfriend in his ‘element’ when it comes to playing to games. As your boyfriends stream starts you see he’s already chosen what game he is playing today which is to your surprise Call of duty, since that was the game you were playing earlier.

As he gets into the stream you are entertained, as always since Kenma was being his usual self laughing at his own deadpan jokes and interacting with his viewers. He is currently waiting for his capture the flag game to start so as he waits he decides to read some comments in the chat.

You’re used to the usual ‘Kenma where is Y/N I miss your usual streams together’ or ‘kenma please RAIL me’ which always makes you laugh. You were also used to the common hate comments Kenma and You both got on your streams but you were definitely not ready for this..

@ Ihatewomanandiamadick : Hey Kenma did you see your girls stream today she is so dog shit at COD lmaoooo jhdfkjdrhdrr

“Well hello ihatewomenandiamadick” started Kenma “but yes I did see Y/N stream and obviously she is not the best at games and I would definitely NOT ask her to team with me for any serious gaming competitions ... but she’s fun to watch I guess” as he finished speaking about you his game loaded up so he focused his attention on that the words he just spoke going to the back of his mind as they end up at the forefront of yours.

You obviously knew you were no match for Kenma’s gaming expertise but you didn’t expect him to publicly agree with a hate comment let alone add more of his imput on you. Did he really think that about you? ‘She’s fun to watch I guess’ did he not even enjoy your streams that much?

You wanted to distract yourself, and you definitely couldn’t do that watching him so you close off of his stream and get in your bed deciding to watch your favourite show.

Waking up at 6pm after your sad nap, you see that Kenma has left some messages to you,

Kenma: hey did you watch my stream?

Kenma: do you want to facetime later and play some minecraft..?

Kenma: y/n r u ok??

Y/N: oh hey cnt play minecraft w you rn not really in the mood..

Kenma: oh ok..

Time passed since then a month to be exact and you basically dropped off of the face of the earth, you weren’t in the mood to do anything let alone game and stream, which was a constant reminder of your boyfriend (something you didn’t want at the time.)

You felt embarrassed over all the things he said about you and all the things you now think he thinks about you and the way you play. Maybe he thinks even worse things about you, beyond just how you game? What if he doesn’t even genuinely like you...or he has someone else...it does make sense, you do both live miles and miles away from eachother AND he’s a big streamer you see the amount of girls in his comments.

You shake your head to erase your protruding thoughts coming in your mind, but it doesn’t really help. You and Kenma haven’t spoken much over this month he tried to constantly reach out to you at first but you assume he got bored over your constant, repetitive dry texts. So you were almost content with you and Kenma not even being in a relationship anymore.

However on Kenma’s side, he was beyond worried about you. Since you haven’t been streaming or barely responded to his texts he thought something happened to you, but he didn’t want to be seen as ‘overstepping boundaries’ if there was nothing wrong at all with you and you simply were just ‘not in the mood.’

So here he is, in Kuroo’s apartment trying to get him to help him out on finding out what is wrong with you.

“So kenma can you remember what happened the day when Y/N went ‘ghost’“ asked Kuroo in a mock detective voice

“Y/N didn’t go ‘ghost’ Kuro, and take this seriously” said Kenma “I’m worried bout her”

“Okay fine, but for real what’s the last thing you remember before she started acting all weird.”

“Umm I think it was around a month ago I did my saturday stream and I think she was on it but she didn’t leave her usual nice comments throughout”

“Ohh that was the stream when you sai-” Kuroo said before pausing his words as the memory of what Kenma said about you on his stream came in his mind, as even Kuroo thought it was a tad bit harsh for Kenma to say all those things “I think I know why Y/N has been so distant kiddo”

“What why?” Asked Kenma

Kuroo pulls out his phone and brings up the clip off what Kenma said and Kenma’s face cringes ‘did he really say all those things about you’ he thinks.

“Shit.. I didn’t know I said all of that” he said quietly “how do I make it up to her?”

“There’s only one thing you can really do Kenma” said kuroo

You are woken up out of your sleep by a knock on the door. Getting out your bed like a zombie, you trudge to your front door only surprised by what you see. There in his 5′6 glory stood your ‘boyfriend’ Kenma with a controller and a kitten teddy in his hand. You were very tempted to shut the door in his face and get back to your dreamless sleep but you waited on him to speak.

“Hi Y/N” he said quietly “wanna play some minecraft...?”

“Why so you can ridicule me on how shit I am?” You ask bitterly ready to shut the door on him

“No! No not all” he said stopping you from shutting the door entering your place “Y/N i’m really sorry on what I said, I wasn’t thinking AT ALL... I love watching your streams and I think you’re great at playing games...I was just being a dick,”

You take a deep breath before tears pool in your eyes “what you said really hurt me kenma..” you say “ I know people say shitty things on the internet all the time... it’s the internet. But I wasn’t expecting you to agree with the hater and say even more shitty things on top of that.. I don’t think I want to even stream anymore”

Upon hearing that, Kenma’s mouth parts open with shock ‘you dont want to stream anymore’ were his comments that bad? Now he feel even worse as he should and is now more determined to make things right.

He impulsively drags your arm into your game room, catching your surprise ‘what is he up too?’ you think. He stops for a second seeing your usual pristine gaming set up, collected up with dust.

“What are you do-” you start

“Just wait!” He says, as he rushes away turning on all your stuff and logging onto his twitch account as he sees the views go up he starts to speak

“Hi guys, its me kodzuken and today I’m here on stream with my beautiful girlfriend and today I want to say..” he turns to you “Y/N im so sorry for the horrible things I said to you that day... I was just being a dick and I’m sorry I really am.”

You look at the chat and you see some confusion and some people recalling his words from last month. “It’s fine Kenma, I forgive you” you say giving him a hug”

“Okay Y/N, so what do you say... wanna beat my ass at bed wars?” He says with a smirk

“When have I ever loss?” you return his smirk

Of course you did beat his ass as bed wars for rounds on rounds never losing proving yourself to actually be a good gamer girl. You enjoyed your time with Kenma, forgetting what he said before about you and moving on.

Eventually, you guys moved in together and streamed together all the time and yes you still do play for fun but you’ve gotten way better at COD (some may say better then Kenma) but who is better didn’t matter to any of you, as long as you got to play together that’s all you both cared about.

Kuroo:

Kuroo and you have been together since you were in your first year of high school

You met as friends first when you got him to tutor you in chemistry ( a subject you still aren’t that good at.)

Now you have your upcoming entrance exams for university in a month so your school has you doing mock exams in preparation for them.

20%

You look down at your chemistry paper that your teacher just handed you. 20%. You’re surprised, very surprised since out of all your subjects (that you go 90+% on) you studied on the chemistry test the hardest ensuring Testurou, that you didn’t need his help at all. But I guess it turns out, you did.

This failing mock grade put a blunder on your day, you didn’t interact with anyone and didn’t want to see your boyfriend so you skipped your usual routine of meeting him on the rooftop and went to the library instead ‘might aswell start early on your studying’ you thought.

As you were going over your chemistry topics, you hear an ‘ahem’ next to you and you turn your head only to find your boyfriend and his friends next to you. Kuroo with his usual goofy smile on his face.

“Hey kitten where were you at lunch?” he asked

“Needed to go to the library, Chemistry is kicking my ass” you mumbled

“Oya” he said as he noticed your chemistry test laying under your textbook “20%, well damn Y/N I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know you were that stupid” he laughed doing his stupid usual hyena-like laugh.

Ouch well that hurt. You slightly flinched at his words, “Really your name, you didn’t know the molecular formula for ethanol, that’s first year work” he said continuing to laugh “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the first things I tutored you on when we first met”

His overbearing laughter was not good for you, you were already having a bad day and yes you do know your not that good at chemistry but you didn’t need your chemistry-enthusiast boyfriend to make fun of you for failing. Kenma and Yaku stood there awkwardly obviously aware of how bad Kuroo is making you feel but they didn’t really know how to stop his friend in the moment.Whilst he’s still dying of laughter you decide to pack up your stuff and leave the library.

You managed to get your Chemistry tutor to let you retake your mock paper in a week so that means, extra hard studying with no distractions you definitely can’t fail again. Since studying on your own was definitely not a good option, and you couldn’t go to Kuroo (especially after he ridiculed you) you decided to ask the second smartest person you know to tutor you.

Y/N: Hey Yaku! Can I ask you a favour?

Yaku: Hi Y/N what do you need??

Y/N: I have my chemistry retake next week, and as you know from your loud-loud friend I failed my recent test so can you tutor me??

Y/N: Pleaseeee

Yaku: Ok Y/N why can’t you ask Kuroo you know that he’d be more than happy to help

Y/N: Yakuu pleasee just help me out

So there you was, nearly a week done with your study sessions with Yaku and you’re feeling way more confident than before.

“Y/N what is the functional group of a Carboxylic Acid” Yaku asked

“umm... COO?”

“Great! that’s correct Y/N” he praises i dont actually know if it’s correct or not

You then hear a knock at Yaku’s front door and hear his mum let the person in, Kuroo then enters Yaku’s bedroom with shock plastered on his face surprised to see you here.

“Y/N...hey?” he says confused “what are you doing here?”

“Oh Mori-chan is just helping me with chemistry for my retake tommorow” you say nochalantly internally smiling at the twinge in Kuroo’s face at the purposeful use of Yaku’s first name.

“So why didn’t you ask me to help you know I’m a chemistry whiz” he asks

“Maybe I’m too stupid to be taught under your tutelage” you mumble “since I seem to forget whatever you teach me, even when it’s 3 years ago... but ok”

“Y/N I-” he starts

“Oh save it Kuroo, I have studying to do” you say cutting him off

“But I-” he tries

“So Mori-chan COOH is the function group of ethyl ethonate right?” you ask ignoring your boyfriend who is now at a lost for words

“ummm yeah it is” says yaku who is clearly feeling heavily awkward at the tension in his bedroom.

Kuroo leaves and you and yaku finish off the studying for the night, you did feel a little bad for being a bit mean to Kuroo but it’s karma for him being a dick to you.

You wake up the next day ready for your exam which was first thing in the morning, before you hand in your phone you see a message from Kuroo,

Kuroo: I know you’re still mad at me, but I think you’re going to do so well on this test. You’re not stupid at all, you’re really smart and I love you < 3

Kuroo: Good luck Y/N

You don’t respond to the message but smile at the sincerity of it and thankful for the boost of confidence it gave you before you start your exam.

Finishing the exam with a smile, you were confident you did well as everything you and Yaku went over was on the paper and you’re almost certain you atleast got more than 75%. You have to wait an hour before your teacher can give you your results, so in the meantime you might aswell reconcile with Kuroo.

When you exit the classroom, standing there was Kuroo who seemed to have been waiting for you for the whole duration of the exam.

“So how was it?” Kuroo asked, apprenhensive as he assumed you would just ignore him like you did at Yaku’s house.

“It was fine, I think it went alright..” you say

“Kuroo”

“Y/N”

You say simultaneously, he pauses for a second to let you speak “I’m sorry I was being so stand offish when we were at Yaku’s I just wanted you to see I could do it on my own, and when you called me stupid I really took that to heart since you and I both know that Chemistry wasn’t ever my best subject”

“I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, and since it was only a practice test I didn’t think you’d take it to heart but I am sorry I know you aren’t stupid.”

Before you got to say anything else, your Chemistry teacher exited the room with your chemistry paper in hand. Kuroo grabbed your hand anticipating your nerves and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Miss L/N” said your teacher “Well done on your chemistry test” he turned your test around to sure a perfect 100%. Both you and Kuroo gasped, you were elated to say the least you wanted to jump up and down in excitement but a PERFECT 100%.

“I’d also like to add that you have now got the top chemistry score in the school beating the previous title holder Kuroo Testurou” said your teacher, this made Kuroo open his mouth even wider in surprise nearly making you giggle at his response.

Your teacher took his leave, leaving you and Kuroo in the hallway “ I guess i’m the chemistry whizz now “ you say wiggling your eyebrows just as Kuroo did to you before at Yaku’s this made him chuckle as he came to put his arm around you.

“Y/N don’t get ahead of yourself now, you may have won this battle but I will win the war” he said smiling

In the final exam, you continue your winning streak also getting a near 100% and still beating Kuroo which didn’t matter to either of you, now you’re just like him cracking chemistry puns and jokes all the time which none of your friends appreciated but atleast Kuroo found them SODIUM funny.

AN: Please kill me for the last line of Kuroos, I didn’t really like Kuroo’s since it was a bit self indulgent with my hate for chemistry but what do you guys think?

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyuu fluff #haikyu scenarios #haikyu headcanons #kenma angst #kenma fluff #kenma x you #kozume kenma #kenma scenario #kenma headcanons #kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo scenarios #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsuro x reader #signedwithanE😌

3K notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt. 6

Summary: Losing someone can make you realize what was already there and the Darkling is about to find that out the hard way.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five

=================================

Five days have passed and the Darkling had never stopped looking for his wife. His men never saw him rest, sleep was simply never on his agenda. He barely ate at all, merely giving time for the rest of them to gather their strength.

He was restless, constantly questioning how this could have happened. No matter how he looked at it, the Darkling felt guilt consuming him. Without his rage, he worried the guilt would have paralyzed him. Had he not went on a pointless hunt for something that’s likely a tale, she would have been right by his side, antagonizing him.

It’s been hundreds of years since he felt this way, as if his heartstrings are being pulled by someone other than himself. In this search for Y/N, he realized she is consuming. After all, she might have been right – a part of him may actually care for her. He cursed that part of himself over and over again as result.

They’ve tracked her toward Fjerdan borders. Every now and then, they would find bodies on the road, their throat cut or stabbed right through the heart. Sometimes, he found them alive still. He never refrained from calling on his shadows, trying to draw useful information to close in on their whereabouts.

Y/N never saw him use his shadows before. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disapprove of the means he’s using to find her. After all, she called him a demon on their wedding night. She would never accept him as he is, he had no doubt about that.

Did she want to be found by him?

The first body they found, the Darkling smiled. He didn’t question it was her hands who have taken the man’s life. There was no concrete proof, but he was certain of it. Every body found felt like her own version of breadcrumbs.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. If she managed to set herself free so many times to leave what was now five dead men behind, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. What was the price of each crumb she left?

It wasn’t just the exposure to snow he worried about – and he did worry as she got cold too quickly and he was the one to warm her up before. Who’d warm her up now?

The darkness of the forest gave him cause to worry too – she may have tried to hide it, but he knew she was afraid of the dark. He realized it when her breathing turned shallow and fast their first night together just as she extinguished the candlelight. The next night, he left his candle to burn long into the night.

Something stirred inside him, a beast has awakened. Despite the war his heart and mind waged, he wondered if he’s his own worst enemy. Maybe it was time to let someone in. For too long, he had been alone in the shadows of his past lives.

Why is he repeating the same mistakes?

How can he be afraid when he married a woman who never blinks in the face of danger?

His heart was ice and stone until she came and now the ice has started to melt. All he’s done is hurt and destroy, but he wanted out of the loneliness that clings to him.

She was right, as hard as it is to admit it. He’s a demon, a devil that walks the earth and he cares. Because of her he hopes he might love again and he can’t let anyone take that from him – hope is the only thing stronger than fear. And when a devil falls in love and discovers hope, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful sight. They should fear him as he will go to the depths of hell to protect her.

While his eyes may have been closed, his heart jumped as a bright flash forced him to open them again.

He was never given a chance to be soft. His hands had to be bloody, to have people fear him. Only when they feared him, they wouldn’t hurt him. Now was the time to show them just why they fear him.

“Where?” He growled out, looking to Ivan and Fedyor who were looking at the sky.

“East”, Fedyor replied hastily, ready to follow Kirigan who set off in said direction without a second thought. He didn’t order anyone to follow, but they did.

Ivan and Fedyor walked two steps behind their general, alert as the flash had awakened them from a deep slumber. They weren’t the only ones shaken, unsure what they’re walking into but none showed fear as their general lead them straight to the source. Their loyalty, their belief in general Kirigan runs deep.

Except for David. He was afraid. He didn’t want to be in that forest and he didn’t want to be in danger, but he trusted Kirigan. Besides, Y/N was nice and Genya seemed to like her. So he came along too.

Kirigan walked in strides, the snow didn’t slow him down. His hands formed fists, his face twisted in anger, but his heart pounded in his chest as he had no inkling what he might find. All he knew was that he had to get there, fast.

As if made of darkness itself, the Darkling emerged on what looked like a battlefield. The trees surrounded a small clearing covered in snow that melted under the spilled blood – still warm as it poured from the dead surrounding her.

She’s on her knees, two Fjerdans chaining her up as if she’s a wild animal.

“You think you’re scary, huh?” She spat at the Fjerdan’s feet – a crimson liquid, Darkling realized. She’s bleeding.

“That’s adorable”, she chuckled maniacally as she held her fierce gaze on the Fjerdan stood before her. They pulled her left hand behind her back and her right hand in front as they tightened the chains that were secured over rope that laid just beneath.

Darkling’s blood boiled. It is fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. Once again, he was afraid, not of her but for her.

Four more Fjerdans came from behind the trees, all covered in blood. “Fucking bitch”, one of them kicked her in the ribs and he couldn’t take anymore. He could kill them easily for what they’ve done – he’s killed every one of them he ran into in the past five days without even blinking, regardless if they were involved in her disappearance or not.

“Mister, I’ve seen scary and you don’t have his handsome smile.”

Licking his lips, the Darkling nearly smiles at her remark. There’s no possible way she means anyone else but him. Looking at his Grisha, he found them nearly all in position. They would attack in a minute, swiftly and deadly.

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he missed the Fjerdans realization they’re being watched. Too quickly, more of them appeared. The pitiful human managed to land a few consecutive blows to Darkling’s face before drawing a dagger.

Angry, dark eyes showed the Fjerdan that the Darkling’s brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from empathy he had for his wife to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in Y/N’s direction, yet it emerged when he sensed a threat to her life, letting out a part of him that was full on protective.

Grunting, the Darkling’s eyes narrowed at the human who dared to sink the blade into his heart. Despite his immortality, he could still hurt. The pain of a stab wound felt just as it would if here as fragile as the human before him.

But he’s not human at all.

Connecting his hands, the Darkling lifts his head as he summons the darkness that spills from every corner of the forest. “Foolish”, he sneers, “Attacking me in the dark?” The Darkling smirked, walking past the petrified Fjerdan, allowing his shadows to administer a thousand cuts for his transgression.

As he walked toward the middle of the circle, his shadows followed, aiding his Grisha in taking the rest of the Fjerdans so quickly that Y/N gasped.

Looking around in shock, she found Kirigan kneeling beside her.

“You have a knife”, she coughed into her shoulder, “A knife in your chest.”

“I promised”, he gasped for breath as he pulled the knife from his chest. “That I would protect you and I intend to keep the damn promise.”

On the brink of tears, her lips quivered before she laughed. “I thought you’d let them kill me.” Better to laugh than cry, she thought.

Frowning, he shook his head. “That would be too easy”, he waved David over who stood at the tree line, wide eyed. “If anyone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”

Even with tears blurring her vision, she giggled at his stupid remark. She had tried so hard to free herself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been captured by enemies, she knew what to do. But there were so many of them. Each time she freed herself, they would descend upon her. She managed to run, twice, each time they dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Despite his words, Y/N didn’t believe Kirigan would come for her. She had to be her own hero and she tried. In the end, she used everything at her disposal – everything.

Feeling the chains drop, Y/N glances at David, “Thank you.” The ropes were cut as well, but she didn’t move. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could stand on her own and asking for help would wound her. Rubbing her bruised wrists, she reluctantly looked at Kirigan.

“Here”, Kirigan offered his hands. Truth be told, he wanted to carry her, but he knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Hissing, she forced herself up despite Kirigan’s offer. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d have asked her again because she trembled when the wind blew. Her hair was matted with blood, her face red and not from blushing. He could see the damage they’ve done more clearly now as she bent to take a deep breath as if the simple act of breathing hurt her.

Staring at her, he nodded despite his better judgment. Her breathing was ragged, dragging her feet as she walked. She felt his eyes on her, it unnerved her. All she could do is hope her legs don’t give out, but it felt as if they would betray her any moment now.

“Go and make camp ahead”, he ordered his Grisha to speed up as he realized her stubbornness would kill her. Stepping before her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. There would be no asking her for permission this time, he’ll not allow her to deny his help. Hoisting her up in his arm, he held his breath as she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

How could he not bring any healers? How could he have been so stupid?

Groaning, she sent him a stern glare yet found no anger in his. His eyes are like the ocean - they have the potential to destroy, yet when the waves reach the shore, they dissipate, leaving soft designs in the sand as a gentle reminder of its presence.

Leaning into his embrace, Y/N let out a gentle sigh of resignation. She’s been caught in the riptide and for once, she doesn’t want to fight it.

“I really thought I’d die”, she admits reluctantly.

Feeling him stiffen as he held her in his arms, Y/N frowned. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, or anything at all. This isn’t what they do, they don’t bare their hearts open.

“And when I faced death”, she continued regardless. Tilting her head to look up at him, she let out a shuddered exhale. A shy smile adorned her lips as their eyes shared a gaze so tender, an outsider would believe them to be in love.

“I thought how silly it is that I don’t know your first name.”

Snorting, Kirigan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes”, she breathes out.

Looking at her now, the Darkling couldn’t believe this is his wife. The woman who infuriates him so often seemed so small, so fragile in his arms. Her gaze held remains of the horrors she was cast into and yet he never saw her as earnest before.

“I married you and I don’t even know your name.”

Licking his lips, he stops. Truth be told, no one actually knows his name. His name was long forgotten, a piece of his soul he had left behind in the fold. He promised himself he’d never utter it while he lives. He had promised he would never be that man again.

Unfortunately for him, he seems to be breaking his promises lately.

He promised her he’d protect her and he failed, just as he promised himself he’d never care for her and yet he does.

“Aleksander”, he mutters, still unsure if it’s the right decision. He placed one of his greatest secrets in the hands of a woman who’d see his world burn. He gave her power she never should possess and yet he’s not afraid. No one could make him fear anything after the ordeal he was put through since she decided to tear down his defenses.

Smiling softly, she closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder she felt satisfied. It may be small, but finding out his name felt like a victory. She was born to play this game, it was her destiny. He is her destiny.

Waking up, she found herself wrapped in several blankets inside a tent. Grunting, she struggled to sit up on her own. It seemed to be dark still, but she had a blue light lantern lit inside. She may not know who left it there, but Y/N was thankful. Despite her fear of dark, she found it odd she did not fear Aleksander’s darkness at all.

When his shadows nearly encased her in the clearing, she didn’t fret or worry. She smiled.

As contradictory as it may seem, she wished he was with her now. Her entire body ached and still, she was more bothered by the empty spot beside her. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Would it be so bad if she showed a sliver of vulnerability for a single night? Would making a small concession such as this truly take away her power?

Before she has a chance to change her mind, she’s already outside of her tent. The cold chilled her to the bone, biting every inch of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, she looked to the tent next to hers as it was the only one so close – seemingly intentional.

Trying to open it in the cold seemed impossible as her fingers shook violently. Feeling faint, she wondered why she couldn’t just stay in her own tent for the night. Surely it would have been a better idea than to admit she’s scared to be alone.

A warm liquid trickled down her lip and she nearly laughed at her own idiocy. The darkness and cold and her own injuries have all been fairly good reasons for her to just sleep and try to recover and she still tried to find her husband who showed so much disdain for her in the past.

Just as she was about to give up, a familiar head of hair peaked through.

Shivering, she wipes the liquid from under her nose with the back of her hand. Looking at it, she realizes it’s blood. There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes, the blood loss suffered over the past days leaving its mark.

Looking up at Kirigan, her lips tremble and she sways slightly as her legs threaten to give out. “I didn’t know who else to go to”, she mumbles meekly before collapsing into Kirigan’s arms.

No…Aleksander’s arms.

Pulling her inside, he wrapped her in his arms as she shivered. Covering her with blankets didn’t seem to help either, but he had confidence it would soon enough.

She closed her eyes, clinging to him and selfishly, he smiled. It brought back memories of the night she climbed atop of him to warm up, he assumed. She didn’t know he was awake then, but she did now. She trusted him enough to seek warmth and as her shivers stopped slowly. That’s when the Darkling realized he would never deny her anything she asked of him.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breath and her eyes open.

He looked at her in a haunted way, a shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and she reached up to touch it, her chest aching when he nuzzled into her palm. They have never been quite as tender with one another, never so intimate. It felt surprisingly nice.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, feeling so emotionally raw. Physical pain and lingering fear of impending death must have weakened her for a short while. Surely, she can allow herself a few moments of humanity?

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

Drawing a shuddered breath, her eyebrows knitted in worry. That’s where the knife was, she remembered with guilt. He could have died for her. Hating him requires too much energy; one she had little to spare. For the night, he can just be her husband and she will just be his wife. What harm can it do?

“Why did you come for me? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t fight for me?” Her confidence wavered as he sighed, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Not only did he come for her, but he murdered men for her.

Blinking slow, half in a daze as a low-grade fever began to grip her too, she had no more strength to deny how beautiful he is or how disarming his charm is. He may never love her, but she could…she could love him. If she ever fell for him, she knew she’d never be able to unlove him. She wouldn’t want to and that…that felt oddly comforting. For once, she was too tired to listen to her mind that preferred to set the world on fire rather than care for him.

As her eyes closed and her face relaxed, he stayed awake. He didn’t understand it, but he embraced the warm feeling spreading in his chest as she fell asleep.

“I’d burn this world for you.”

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard

PART 7

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadown and bone #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan x reader

984 notes · View notes

diamaker-moon · 3 years

Text

Moving Forward - Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Realizations... (pt. 1)

—————

"I am proud of your chosen, Tikki."

Wayzz said in a calm voice. "She took in the responsibility of being a heroine exchange for her time in her civilian life, and now, she chose to carry the heavy responsibility of a Guardian even though she can refuse it and pass it to someone else, leaving everything behind."

The other kwamis nodded at the wise turtle kwami's words. Tikki looked at them and smiled.

"I'm proud of my bug. She's a worthy ladybug and had shown how worthy she is despite her flaws. She made mistakes, but she chose to fix them. And now she's healing from the toxicity she had received in that place. Sleep well, Marinette..."

— previous chapter... —

The Akuma Class was experiencing an unknown change. And they don't know the exact reason.

It's been two weeks since Marinette hasn't been coming to class.

The first day, Alya thought she was just late or have an errand to run during the morning and will come to class after lunch, but it didn't happen. After classes were done, she tried calling her, only to be redirected to her voicemail immediately. Not knowing her 'best friend' had bought a new phone and uses a new number. She was slightly sour thinking that Marinette is being stubborn in hanging out with Lila, and chose to reprimand her for letting her jealousy get in between a possible friendship with the girl.

The others didn't notice how Adrien was down during the rest of that day. They didn't notice Chloé having a slightly pained look in her eyes.

She was slightly angry that Dupain-Cheng easily gave up in exposing the liar, but it's not like she helped the girl. She had no right to be angry about how Dupain-Cheng chose to move on with life. When she saw her being surrounded by people she didn't know and was walking towards a table, she stared for a moment. Chloé hasn't heard her laugh for a while, the bubbly aura around the girl was fading when she was in Dupont.

Chloé hated to admit it, but she envied the ravenette. Dupain-Cheng having a happy family, while her own mother left them to go to New York for work when she was a child, creating a drift between their relationship. Her own father didn't hang out with her anymore due to his duties being the City's Mayor. Dupain-Cheng gained friends while she was being hated for being a bully who always annoys others and uses her triumph card when she gets in trouble.

She was staring at the raventte's table with a melancholic look. The girl was happy, and Chloé couldn't deny it. Part of her wants to convince Dupain-Cheng to go back to Dupont and defeat the vixen but she didn't want to be selfish for once.

After lunch period she came back to class and grabbed Sabrina's attention, and told her to come with her after class.

The two are in Chloé's bedroom in Le Grand Paris.

"I'm sorry..."

Sabrina was startled to hear such sincere words coming from the person she knew could be very bratty for a long time.

"I'm sorry that I treated you like a servant. And that I made you take some of the consequences from my actions. I want to justify it by letting people know that I lost a mother figure from my childhood and didn't teach me proper manners and that she is very bossy, and that I tried to fit in with her. But I know I can't... There are people around me that could've inspired me to be a better person, like Dup-Marinette..."

When Sabrina heard the name she was about to retaliate but Chloé didn't give her a chance.

"No, Sabrina. She's right. I grew up with people who lie about their backgrounds just to fit in with society. Everything can be searched on the internet Sabrina. I know your smart, use it and prove to me right now that you, defending that Liar is a good thing."

Sabrina stared at Chloé, she was growing nervous, Chloé rarely helps around class problems, and for her to defend the person she has been ridiculing for a long time is strange. So Sabrina did it, she searched.

She sat there, appalled and disappointed, after that there are no articles about a Lila Rossi aside from the girl's interviews in the Ladyblog. Chloé left her to go to her balcony and leaned on the railing. Sabrina ran up to her.

"Chloé we need to let everyone know about this! Maybe we can help Marinette expose her? Collect evidence? Contact her mother? We can help Marinette gain back her reputation and her friends! We can—" Sabrina rambled.

"It's too late, Sabrina..." Chloé said that made Sabrina stop rambling and just stared at her in confusion.

"I saw her. She moved on. Marinette was wearing a uniform from a different school. Marinette gave up, Sabrina, she gave up on trying to protect her so-called friends after being dismissed. You should've seen her, she was so happy, something we— I haven't seen for a while..."

That statement made Sabrina tearful. Staring at nothing, she started remembering glimpses of the ravenette.

She remembered the time that when she looks in Marinette's direction, she was so dull. Like a doll— a Marionette, not reacting to how her sketchbook was torn apart, how her dull bluebell eyes stare at Mlle Bustier when she is talking to her, how she doesn't react when their classmates are attacking her for bullying Lila. Sabrina finally realizes how she treated someone like that without proof. Her own father imbedded to her that 'innocent until proven guilty', yet she didn't even try to see both perspectives and just went along with the class.

Her actions are much worse than how Chloé acted.

"I'll give Marinette credit. That liar tried to break her, but she broke free and spread her wings without looking back, and saved herself."

Sabrina nodded at Chloé's statement while copying the girl's position of leaning on the balcony rails, looking out to Paris.

—————

Juleka Couffaine, the Akuma Class' resident shy goth girl.

When she first met Lila Rossi, she was skeptical, her brother is a fan of Jagged Stone, and when she heard Lila say that she saved Jagged's kitten on an airplane runway was very sketchy for Juleka.

Before she knew it, Marinette became a pariah. She often denies becoming an accomplice due to her neutrality to the problem. When Marinette didn't arrive Monday morning, she was worried. The girl who pleaded to the photographer to take another class photo with her in it, to break her 'photo curse', is absent.

She tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She was currently sitting on her bed and her brother strumming his guitar. He notices how she was just staring at her phone in a daze.

"Hey, Luka... does Jagged had a pet cat in his life?" Juleka asks looking up to her brother.

Luka was surprised by the question, "As far as I know, he didn't have one. Due to him being allergic and the cat not being rock-and-roll enough. Why?"

Luka was shocked when Juleka started tearing up, he immediately puts his guitar down to comfort her baby sister.

"I messed up, Luka... I badly messed up..."

After calming down a little, Juleka finally explained to him why she was crying. She explained that the new girl in her class made Juleka skeptical about her, and then about Marinette's supposed 'cheating', 'stealing', and 'assault', she then talked about how Marinette kept accusing the new girl of lying but no one believing her, and that soon Marinette became a pariah in their class. Juleka told them about all the lies that Rossi has said.

Overall, Luka was disappointed in her.

"You said that Marinette tried to expose her right? Why didn't you back her up, as a friend would do? Isn't she also your friend? Why didn't you voice out your concern about this to Marinette? or to me?"

Luka sighed, before backing away from his sister.

"You said your class hates Chloé for being a bully, but aren't they acting like a bully? Your class, isolated Marinette. I don't know how she managed it. But right now, it might be too late to act, Jules. At the very least, try and fix your mistake..." Luka said before leaving her alone for a moment, and let her think.

Meanwhile, Rose's phone suddenly pinged due to a notification. When she checked it out it was a message from Juleka.

Juleka: Hey, uhm...

Juleka: Can you do me a favour? Please?

Rose: Sure! What is it?

Juleka: Please trust me on this... can you ask Prince Ali about his environmental charities and if he knows a certain 'Lila Rossi'?

Rose: Juleka? Why?

Juleka: Please... please ask him...

Rose was confused by Juleka's request, if she thought about it she was asking just like Marinette did months ago. But Rose decided to shake that thought out of her head, she knew Juleka was not a bully, like Marinette and how she bullies Lila.

Rose decided to trust Juleka and messaged him.

Rose: Hello, Ali! Can I ask a question? A friend of mine, wants to know about your environmental charities with Lila Rossi, I think it's for a project. Thank you! <3

She didn't know why but she felt nervous sending that message. She shrugged it off and put the phone down to continue her scrapbooking. She waited for a few minutes before she heard another notification sound from her phone. And when she read the message, she froze.

Prince Ali: Hello, Rose! I'm sorry, but I only do children charities since the Royal Family doesn't control the environemental ones, it is mostly done by Achu's government, and sorry to disappoint but I do not know a Lila Rossi. Is she a new friend of yours?

Rose was too frozen to not even notice that she had dropped her phone. She kept looking in her hand as if it was all just a dream. That Prince Ali did know Lila Rossi, but when she picked her phone back up and read the text once again, it said the same thing.

'This can't be happening! If this is true... then I bullied Marinette for no reason!'

Rose: Oh! I'm... sorry for my misinformation... Lila's a... classmate of mine. Sorry for the trouble...

Rose didn't notice the tears dripping from her eyes.

She was numb. She couldn't deny this information, it is a direct reply from the Prince of Achu. That he— Prince Ali, doesn't know someone named Lila Rossi. She was lied to. Lila Rossi lied to me. She thought.

And Marinette asked you to ask him months ago, didn't she? She tried to warn you... You didn't listen to her!

There was a sudden voice in the back of her mind, how she ridiculed Marinette for bullying Lila. But it was all a lie. She treated Marinette horribly for a lie...

She hurriedly opened her internet browser and searched for any of Lila's accomplishments only to see a bunch of interviews from the Ladyblog, nowhere else.

Rose: Prince Ali... doesn't do environmental charities, he only does children charities and... he doesn't know a Lila Rossi.

Juleka: ... I'm sorry, Rose.

Juleka: I only realized my mistake after talking to Luka, I'm sorry if I didn't voice out when I was skeptical about her in the beginning...

Rose: She lied... She lied!

Rose: I can't believe her! We treated her as a friend!

Juleka: Rose, please calm down! I don't want you to become an akuma! Please!

Seeing that message she tried so hard to calm down. Juleka was right, she doesn't want Shadowmoth to turn her into an Akuma! She needed to calm down.

After calming down, she messaged Marinette, but there was no reply, then she finally noticed that Marinette wasn't present during class that day. So she tried calling but was sent to voicemail immediately. She tried calling a few times before she stopped.

She'll just talk to her tomorrow, but that didn't happen... and it has been two weeks...

—————

Adrien Agreste was in denial.

He didn't want to believe that Marinette really did transfer schools. He wanted to visit her as Chat, but since he hasn't seen his kwami, he can't transform. And he's growing worried every second. No Plagg, no Akuma, and no Marinette...

His worrisome state affected his fencing classes. He was always immediately defeated by Kagami Tsurugi. She was displeased that he became a wimp in fencing.

"What made you so distracted lately? That's not like you Agreste." Kagami said.

"Nothing... I'm just worried about Marinette, she hasn't been in class lately, and it's been two weeks!" Adrien replied.

What Adrien said, made Kagami's brow shot up, in confusion. She had talked to Marinette one time, and she had shared that she transferred schools, and has been doing well. She also found out about the 'Lila situation' in Dupont and was very angry that Adrien Agreste knew but didn't say anything. It took a whole lot of Marinette's energy to stop Kagami from attacking Agreste with her sword or using her mother's sword!

"Haven't you heard?" Kagami asked.

"Heard what? You've talked to Marinette?!" Adrien asked enthusiastically.

"Yes. She had transferred schools due to unfortunate situations here in Dupont." Kagami answered before walking towards the locker rooms.

Adrien ran up towards her, held her shoulders and made her face him. "You're kidding right?! Marinette is still a student here! She'll come back here!"

Kagami stared at him in bewilderment.

"I-I gotta go... Bye Kagami..." Adrien said.

Kagami can only stare at the boy's retreating back. From Kagami's perspective, she thinks that Agreste was in denial of Marinette transferring schools. He was also oblivious to the aspiring designer's feelings. But this was different... The way he tries to convince himself that Marinette still goes to Dupont is unsettling.

It's as if, he was supposed to have control over her life. It made Kagami's instinct more unsettled.

Adrien was pacing around his room after he got home from fencing classes. He was becoming more nervous by the second.

He tried looking for her social media accounts only to find none of it exists, he swore that he followed her socials.

Even Nathalie noticed how jittery the young Agreste was, she tried finding out the reason why, but couldn't pinpoint it due to being sidetracked.

The peacock miraculous was missing from the safe, and Gabriel Agreste was furious! He already lost the Grimoire book, the previous Guardians' tablet and now the fixed peacock miraculous. They reviewed the footage from his security cameras, and found nothing!

This made him sidetracked about his supervillain duties, he ignored the past powerful emotions the brooch felt, in exchange to search the whole mansion about the missing items of his. Adrien was no help.

Gabriel calmed down for a second and felt a negative emotion to vent and try to find out if Ladybug got the peacock miraculous.

When he found one, he informed Nathalie about privacy and went to his lair. he transformed to Hawkmoth once again due to the lack of the peacock miraculous.

"Ah, the agonizing pain of experiencing a heartbreak..."

A butterfly flew and rested in his palm, while he fills it with negative power. Once he is done he opened his palm and lets the Akuma flap its wings.

"Fly away, my little Akuma, and evilize this brokenhearted woman!"

The Akuma made its way towards a crying woman near the Seine, wearing a wedding dress. It landed on her headpiece.

"Enchanttréx, I am Hawkmoth. You've been betrayed by the person your loved one, I'm giving you the power to expose any secrets that were chosen to be hidden away from the world. In return, you will bring me ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, Hawkmoth."

The purple substance covered the woman in a wedding dress, and when it was gone it left a woman, who has an intricate gold flower-themed headpiece, long black hair that reaches up to her mid-back, a flowy white to black gradient dress, gold strapped heels, white laced gloves that reach up to her forearm and a veil in front of her face.

"It's time to let yourself free from your secrets!" Enchanttréx exclaimed making the nearby Parisians run away in fear and alerting the heroes.

Chapter 5 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 7

#miraculousladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #chloé bourgeois #juleka couffaine #rose laviant #AO3 #movingforward #class salt

202 notes · View notes

jeontaehui · 3 years

Note

Are there any chaotic Taehui moments during hot sauce promotions?

TAEHEE BEING CHAOTIC DURING HOT SAUCE ERA — A THREAD BY USER MRKSVTT

1. someone pls save her

🌶️ NCT DREAM has the hottest striking skills I Hot Sauce Bowling

haechan has been keeping his laughter all to himself since the past minute, causing jeno to become curious as to what he was laughing about.

“no, just look at noona,” haechan whispers to the latter, their eyes subtly giving short glances to taehee as they stood on their side, “she’s so quiet.”

as if mark had read his mind, the dreamies hear the familiar laugh of their leader and turn their heads to him, “taehee, calm down! your eyes are literally shaking right now.”

the boys chuckle at the nervous grin that appears on her lips, her meek voice trying to brush them off, “no, guys, it’s fine. it’s fine!”

“she’s convincing herself,” jisung comments with a giggle, “noona, i’ll make yours!”

“okay,” she replies, the worry in her tone causing mark to let out one more laugh. “do you want me to eat yours?” he asks, standing up, and as if she had a sudden change in demeanor taehee waves him off with her hand. “i’m not a baby,” she tells him.

“jiji noona,” jisung calls, catching the attention of the elder. he raises two of his fingers, letting taehee know that she was about to choose between two options. she groans.

“option 1, i’ll pick the least spicy sauce but place a ton of drops,” the snort that comes out of haechan and renjun shows that they like his idea, “or option two, i’ll get the spiciest one and place just a few.”

“wouldn’t that be the same thing though?” she wonders, finally standing up and scanning the various bottles of hot sauce scattered on the table. jisung shakes his head (cutely, if i may add), “okay, then i’ll go with option 1.”

taehee proceeds to watch jisung get to work, obviously dreading the fact that she was the last to eat among their team.

“but even if jisung places just a tiny drop,” haechan explains to the camera, “taehee noona’s gonna cry.”

shouts of protest begin to come from the said girl, but he continues, “like her spice tolerance is really really really really really low.”

“... 5, 6, 7, 8,” jisung finishes, looking proud at what he had accomplished before handing it over to a nervous taehee. as if to tease her further, mark reaches for the box of tissues on the table and places it in front of her. “these are for your tears,” he jokes.

a few moments tick by and taehee brings the plate up to her nose, “oh the smell— it’s burning.” chenle laughs, commenting on how his noona was so cute.

they wait in anticipation as taehee grabs the soft taco and sniffs it again, and it seems that all the walls she had built up until now collapse.

“AGHHH,” taehee suddenly groans, jeno and mark bursting into laughter once more. “WHAT DO I DO?! I CAN’T EVEN HANDLE THE LESS SPICY SAMYANG RAMEN!!! MARK!!!” she exclaims, brows furrowing in panic as she held tightly onto mark’s arm with her free hand.

“we won’t judge you if you cry, noona,” renjun chuckles. “well, you’re doing a really great job at it so far,” she retaliates.

quickly taking a bite, taehee places the plate down and chews on her food silently, serious eyes looking straight at the camera. “how is it?” mark prompts, but taehee doesn’t answer.

it takes exactly ten seconds of silence until her eyes are filled to the brim with tears, and it worsens all the more as she swallows the food in her mouth, leaving a scorching hot feeling on her tongue down to her throat.

the boys erupt into laughter once more, chenle screaming out on how adorable she was being right now, and she gulps down on nothing to soothe the pain in her mouth.

before taehee can even move to get herself a glass of milk, mark is already handing one in front of her, his, “here you go,” graced with a chuckle.

she downs the contents of the glass quickly, sighing in relief as the spiciness that lingered in her mouth starts to go away.

as if her almost crying in front of the camera wasn’t enough, taehee stumbles back as her head spins, and she would’ve fallen on her bum if mark didn’t hold her up by the waist.

haechan smiles at her endearingly but it comes off as a teasing one, “wah.. are you okay? do you need to sit down?”

taehee just looks up the ceiling and stays unmoving, her eyelids fluttering shut, “the world is spinning so i have decided to not move until it stops.”

2. bless jaemin and taehee

SUB)역대급헤각장!🔥눈떠보니 좋아하는 SM아이돌이 내앞에 있다면!!?? (feat.NCT DREAM) If My fave IDOLS are watching me..?

“you close your hand first,” taehee tells jaemin after having failed two attempts of their assigned challenge, “and then like da da da...” but jaemin couldn’t hear the beats properly since the rest of dream were also practicing on the sidelines, wanting to do the challenge too.

taehee plasters an annoyed smile on her face as she rolled her eyes, but jaemin was the first to snap, “BE QUIET!”

“STAY STILL!” taehee adds (much like this) as she raises her hands up in the air, the gesture making everyone in the room laugh.

3. idk how to explain this but i cant get it out of my head

시즈니이2관왕 (210528)

“‘taehee unnie, please cover your abs so you won’t get cold’,” renjun reads with a polite tone, to which jisung laughs at.

“summer is coming though?” haechan wonders from his seat, “do you want to see mine instead?”

while the others shake their heads against his suggestion, taehee clicks her tongue and raises her brows at him challengingly. “don’t say that,” she tells him, “they’re (the fan) mine.”

“okay okay,” haechan chuckles, and the threatening glare that was on taehee’s face is quickly replaced with a bright smile after hearing his response.

“czennies, i’ll work harder so you can see them more in the future too!” she exclaims, raising her fist up in the air before exaggerating a giggle, “ahihi.”

“what the heck is ‘ahihi’?” jeno snorts, “this noona, really.”

4. i sometimes wonder what goes on in her mind

REACTION to '맛 (Hot Sauce)' with Pinkfong REDREX | NCT DREAM Reaction

"WOAHH!” the sight of the red dinosaur mascot that was walking towards them makes the members’ eyes light up in surprise. “it’s a dinosaur!” haechan shouts, his voice going a pitch higher like a child seeing these extinct creatures in the museum for the first time.

meanwhile, mark, jisung, and taehee poke at its fake teeth in interest, fingers prodding at each tooth that were too dull to be sharp. “its teeth hurt me,” mark winces as he delivers his joke.

it wasn’t long before taehee’s curiosity got the best of her as she opened the t-rex’s mouth big and wide, her sudden movements causing the rest of dream to erupt in laughter. “noona, what are you doing?” chenle asks with a fond smile.

taehee pulls away from the mascot, laughing after seeing the surprised eyes of the staff wearing it. “he got so surprised,” taehee chuckles with a grin, before proceeding to imitate what she saw to the camera — eyes as big as saucers and a gasp slipping past her lips.

5. our clumsy baby pls be careful

7 (210413)

“what kind of dog will be created?”

“how far are we taking this?”

“the marriage...”

as the rest continue to explain haechan and daegal’s supposed marriage to jaemin, taehee scoots closer to jisung, who was on the floor, to read the comments the fans were sending.

“what the,” she mutters, amusement in her tone after reading a comment someone had said about buttholes and teeth and dentists. not noticing that she was right by his ear, jisung jolts in surprise at hearing her voice and the phone, that was also taehee’s, falls from his hands and onto the floor beside him.

taehee went to pick it up quickly — too quickly, in fact, that she hit her nose on the marble table quite harshly as she bent down to reach the object.

“OH!” all heads turn to their corner when jisung shouts, taehee recoiling in pain as she held her nose. “why?” mark asks in concern, “what happened?”

while jisung explains through held laughter the situation taehee was in, the female member slowly leans into the couch and meets the eyes of a concerned renjun.

“can i see?” he asks, and taehee carefully removes her hands just an inch away from her nose bridge that she was pressing against in hopes of relieving the pain. “is it bleeding?”

after noting that her nose was fine and that only a very tiny bruise was starting to form on her bridge, renjun decides to answer, “no, but your nose is starting to look like rudolph.”

the two-tone haired boy proceeds to sing the infamous christmas song, much to the amusement of haechan and jeno, and taehee slaps his shoulder in retaliation. “stop being annoying!” she groans, causing renjun to release a hearty laugh off his chest, hand comeing down to pat on the top of taehee’s head. “it’s okay, baby,” he coos.

“do you want to get some ice for it?” mark speaks up again, worried gaze still looking over her. taehee removes her fingers from her face again and makes eye contact with him, “do you want to kiss it better instead?”

though it sounded more than a threat than an actual attempt at flirting, jeno sighs, “and she’s back.”

6. clumsy baby pt. 2 (ft. chenle)

[Un Cut] Take #1｜‘맛 (Hot Sauce)’ Jacket Behind the Scene

after seeing mark throw a chip in the air and successfully catching it in his mouth, jaemin turns to taehee who sat beside him on the carpet floor. “can you do that?” he asks, and taehee shakes her head no. “if i do it, i might choke,” yet she’s already grabbing a chip from the yellow bag the latter is currently holding, “watch.”

the food does in fact get stuck in her throat, but only for a short while until she’s coughing it out. “are you crazy?!” jaemin shouts, the amused grin he was wearing contrasting to his scolding tone. taehee could only give him a smile back as she chewed, a mischievous glint present in her eyes.

at the same time, chenle watches the two with a bemused expression, before turning to the camera and sighing. “you know those people in school who are like, good in tests and get high grades or something?” he asks, “but then they’re super dumb when it comes to things outside of school?”

chenle laughs, “that’s taehee noona.”

“she’s good at dancing, surfing, skateboarding — all the things that require balance,” he explains, “but she’s the clumsiest person i know, as in the clumsiest.”

“it’s alright,” chenle shrugs innocently, “it’s cute.”

7. u can literally hear ‘all i did was try my best this the kinda thanks i get’ #SMFreeTaehee

💚시즈니 Fㅏ워🏆💚ㅣ맛 (Hot Sauce) 음악방송 대기실 비하인드 #3

“tmi?” jeno repeats before facing jaemin, “tmi.”

“the tmi for today is,” the other starts, eyes wandering around the room until they finally settle on a certain member, “there’s an album that i’ve been listening to ever since it came out, and i’m not even the one playing it.”

a confused hum sounds out of jeno at his member’s statement, his brows furrowing together as he tries to make sense of what jaemin had just said, so when the latter tries to imitate the familiar intro of olivia rodrigo’s ‘brutal’, he finally nods in understanding and agrees with him.

“ahhh,” jeno smiles, looking at the camera, “that’s right, i’ve been hearing it too.”

“this person,” jaemin continues, “plays the music so loud. they don’t use the speakers so it’s not that concerning—“

“that concerning?”

“—to others except when you’re next to them. they play the whole album so loudly in their airpods! then you go like, ‘huh? what?’ and when you look at them, they just have this look on and you go, ‘wow, they’re really going through it’,” he finishes. while he was describing the person’s expression as they listened to their music, jaemin’s mouth forms into a slight frown and his eyes go blank, jeno doing his own version after.

the video cuts to a zoom in on taehee, eyes fixed on one of the white fluorescent lights of their waiting room and mouth pressed into a thin line as she had her airpods on. “look at her right now,” jaemin mumbles from behind camera.

“she’s contemplating her life decisions,” jeno chuckles, “‘what am i doing?’, ‘why am i here?’, ‘who am i?’”

8. miss seeing baekhyun and taehee together :(

💚시즈니 Fㅏ워🏆💚ㅣ맛 (Hot Sauce) 음악방송 대기실 비하인드 #3

haechan summons the rest of the members by playing baekhyun’s ‘bambi’, not knowing that taehee had too much of her sugar intake for the day and currently felt stoked for their stage more than ever.

“BAMBI BAM..BI ~~ !!!!” taehee sings loudly, quickly popping into frame before moonwalking to the side.

“what’s with you today?” mark asks, bemused at the current state of his best friend. “taehee— ah, you can’t do that here,” the smile on his face quickly fades as he puts on a serious expression, his tone reminding taehee of the time haechan was told to do a dance he thought was sexy until the members tried to stop him.

that didn’t hinder her though from going all out on busting the choreography to the second verse, even exaggerating them before renjun and mark had to push her out of the waiting room.

“do you bet she’s still dancing outside?” renjun asks, brushing his hands off after closing the door, and he bursts out laughing after hearing the rest of the members agree with his question.

they open the door literally 15 minutes later to reveal taehee, both hands full as she waited patiently on her phone. “where did you get that?” mark chuckles, referring to the grape flavored juice can on her left.

“the vending machine,” taehee shrugs.

“did you dance all the way there?”

“yup.”

mark’s eyes seem to look at her with endearment, “really?”

“mhmm.... i sang too.”

9. i think we all have an idea of what she’s singing here

[Un Cut] Take #2｜‘고래 (Dive Into You) + Rainbow (책갈피) +Diggity’ Track Video Behind the Scene

before filming the choreography parts of the track video for ‘diggity’, the members wait for the director’s cue to start as they all engage themselves in their own conversations — haechan asking jisung for a hug, jeno and mark talking about anything under the sun, and chenle and renjun singing the lyrics to the songs in their album.

meanwhile, jaemin studies taehee with an unreadable expression, the latter dancing idly to the current song stuck in her head at the time.

“she made some plans with my mmm tonight. she not with him tonight. she not with jim tonight,” and it almost seems like taehee had no absolute clue of the words that flew out of her mouth, like she was in some sort of trance, “she in the gym tonight.”

“workout in that nana,” she pretends to throw something in the air, and reading her mind, jaemin simultaneously ‘hits the woah’ with her as they both shout, “AYEE!”

10. dude didnt even hesitate

7DREAM return! 7+맛=Show #우정의_A컷Z컷 #우정월드컵

“alright! the next one is for taehee .... would you rather keep your friendship ring and miss a chance to meet taylor swift or lose it and get a chance to collab with taylor sw—”

“COLLAB WITH TAYLOR SWIFT!!!!”

jeno and jaemin were the only ones laughing as the rest of the dreamies looked at her in disbelief. haechan’s hand even comes up to rub the back of his neck as if his blood pressure was going up, yet the proud grin that was on taehee’s lips does not falter.

“don’t you have to think about this first?” mark tells her, pulling her raised arm by the elbow until it was placed by her side.

“she didn’t even hesitate,” renjun gasps, “noona!”

“a ring is a ring—“

“it’s a symbol of our friendship!” haechan argues, meeting eyes with her.

the host begins to laugh at the ruckus taehee’s answer had caused, and the female idol retaliated, “mark and jisung have lost their rings a couple of times but why are you only reacting like this to me?!”

“you answered right away!” the brown haired vocalist says right back before his lips turn into a little pout.

“okay, okay,” taehee nods turning back to their host, “can you please ask the question again?”

even the group of staff behind the camera burst out laughing, “again?”

mark pushes taehee’s shoulder playfully as he shook with uncontrollable laughter, her polite expression remaining on her features as she waited patiently for the emcee to repeat the question.

“taehee-ssi, would you rather keep your friendship ring and miss a chance to meet taylor swift or lose it and get a chance to collab with taylor swift?”

“mmm,” taehee pretends to ponder, her brows furrowing together as she juts out her bottom lip into a pout, “a collaboration with my favorite artist seems like a once in a lifetime experience....”

“but, haechan’s right, the ring is a symbol of our friendship, which i value so much,” taehee says into the mic, some of the dreamies’ chuckles fading in the background. “we’ve been through a lot together — we’ve been happy and sad and all sorts of things together, and seeing how close we are now, i could say that this,” she gestures to all of them, “would stand the test of time.”

“ohhh,” the boys hum, nodding impressed at her answer. “not only a lifetime but would stand the test of time,” the emcee emphasizes.

“so i will pick option b.”

“NOONA!”

130 notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Latibule pt. ii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, kinda heavy petting? we still going slow up in this ride, adult language, eventual SMUT, oh & Kiyoomi being a blunt asshole

Words: 12,880

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: me: try to keep it at 7,000 words, also me: what’s a word count?

i owe my life to @wickedfaerytale & @albinoburrito for their edits and suggestions on this monster. i love you both & appreciate you to the moon and back.

Latibule

pt. ii: Four Set

a high set to the strong side/outside hitter

[ pt. i: an opening ] ||

[ You: 4:35pm ]

Hey! It’s me– from the coffee shop. Wanted to see if you were busy this evening? Maybe we can meet up when I get off?

[ Sakusa: 5:02pm ]

I know. Sure.

[ You: 6:21pm ]

Great! I’m off at 9:30. Want to meet at the shop?

[ Sakusa: 7:10pm ]

Read at 7:10pm

“Is he coming?” Kane asks, following you out of the coffee shop and pausing under the shallow awning, twisting his head, watching your back as you turn the key in the door. You tug against the handle, testing the hold, your hands heavy against the cool metal.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, eyes peering into the darkened depths of the cafe lobby. “It says he read the last text, but he didn’t respond. He’s likely busy. I have no idea how long they practice; he’s a professional athlete, and after seeing that game...well, I can only imagine how intense his training schedule is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move like that before it was so fluid, like watching quicksilver.”

“Eh? Quicksilver? What is this, a poetry slam? Who describes people like that? Still, I bet he does, like, 20,000 sit-ups a day. You can tell, even under that baggy jacket, that he’s crazy fit,” Kane ruminates, leaning against one of the stacked sets of metal chairs. “Damn. It’s kinda crazy to think about, you know? You and a hot pro athlete going out on a date.”

You huff out a laugh and give him a playful scowl. “Ugh, shut up, you’re so rude, Kane. And I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘date.’ We just exchanged numbers. That’s all.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. You’re totally right. All those googly eyes must have happened with someone else. Definitely not you and that six-foot monster of a man. I mean, usually the guy just sits at his seat and ignores us, watching those videos on his computer and taking his notes, or he gets his coffee and is on his way, but today he was practically sitting on the hand off plane, and staring at you.

Don’t gimme that face! You know I’m right. And–awe, look at you! So bashful! Oooh, you like him, don’t you? That’s so cute! Come on (Y/N), that’s so––ow!”

“Didn’t you say you had a paper to write?” you grumble, shoving your knuckles against his shoulder again. “There was so much whining from you tonight. Way worse than usual. So many, ‘hurry up, (Y/N)! I need to get home. What if this makes me bomb my paper! What if I fail the class because of this?’ What happened to all that? Huh? Suddenly you’ve got time to suss’ me out on the sidewalk?”

“Yow! So touchy! And this is totally workplace harassment, ya’ know! Jeez, that’s a mean right hook you’ve got. You didn’t even warn me! Eee, I’m gonna be bruised tomorrow!”

“Oh, shut up. You completely deserved that. Now go away and go finish your paper, you soon to be fail––”

“You said 9:30, right?”

The sound of Sakusa’s low voice startles you and you spring away from Kane, head whipping around and eyes wide. He’s standing a few feet behind the two of you, his shoulders curved into their usual hunch, eyes dark behind his fringe of curls. Under his golden jacket, a crisp white shirt is stretched across his broad chest, the bottom tucked carefully into the front of his jeans, and his MSBY bag is hanging against his back. His onyx hair looks heavy and you can see some lingering moisture, no doubt from a recent shower, glistening against the raven waves.

“Hey!” you call, unable to bite back the elated grin that’s suddenly curving the edges of your lips. Kane is right about one thing, you think, stepping closer to Sakusa’s stiff form. This is kinda surreal. “We just finished closing up. Uh, this is Kane,” you wince, gesturing to the smirking face of your coworker.

Shit. Stop it. You sound like an idiot. He knows who Kane is. You’ve seen them talking at the register before, but the rambling introduction keeps tumbling out of you. “He works here. He’s usually at the register, he’s learning, um, the bar and–uh. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’ve seen him before, uh, probably...definitely...ha, but, er–”

“And that’s my cue,” Kane chuckles, shaking his head at your janky attempts to introduce him properly to a man that he’s known, in passing, for over a year. “Nice seeing you Sakusa-sama,” he bows, tossing you a cheeky wink from his polite curve, “you guys have fun.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving you and the impassive Sakusa alone on the empty street.

A hushed quiet falls over the two of you as you adjust the straps of your purse, eyes lowered. Stop freaking out, you chide yourself, taking a deep inhale of air into your lungs, fingers padding aimlessly over the leather slings of your bag. Just talk with him. It’s always easier when you ask the questions first, since he’s not much of a talker. So ask him about something he can answer.

Volleyball. Yeah, ask him about that. It’s not exactly a groundbreaking conversation starter, but it will work.

Strategy set, confidence mounting, you open your mouth.

“So, how did your practice–” “How was your day–”

He speaks when you do, and the two of you clatter directly into each other, words smattering into nothingness as you both fumble into an uneasy silence again.

Hopeless, you’re both hopeless. It’s kinda funny, in a horrifically awkward way.

“Uh,” you grin, eyes finally lifting to his. “You first?”

The gentle thud of his heart echoes against his ears and his breath is hot under the cover of his mask. You’re so close. If he wanted to, he could reach out and touch you, could drop his hand from his pocket and let it slip into yours again. That thought makes his palms feel itchy, and he scrapes his nails down the skin, easing the ache.

Not yet.

He watches you as you shake your head, a glowing smile breaking across your lips. You’re not just pretty, he thinks, unconsciously drifting closer, you’re captivating. It’s like you’re some kinda homing beacon.

He’s a cautious guy, always has been. But something about you makes him want to blindly reach, to be nearer to you.

“Practice was fine. Where did you want to go?” he murmurs, fingers lifting, tugging his mask down his face.

He wants to kiss you.

It’s been on his mind all day, through the training, through the practice games, hovering over him, shrouding him with the foggy remembrance of the pressure of your lips. He’d fucked your first one up and he wants to try again, to do better. But it’s different when you’re expecting it, when he can see your gaze following the downward pull of his hand, your eyes hooded and watchful as he reveals the lower portion of his face to you. When you bite your lip into your mouth, teeth pressing before slowly letting the plump flesh spring free again, he nearly groans aloud.

He wonders if you’ll let him do it, let him kiss you, and that thought makes him feel lightheaded. You’re so close––No, he gulps, jaw clenching and shoulders straightening, his back arching upward and right foot jerking a step, pulling away from your tempting openness. It’s too much, it’s too soon.

Just wait, he reminds himself, be patient. Not now, not yet.

You notice his shift and look up at him curiously, popping your weight onto your other leg, one hand braced against your hip, but you still smile up at him, acknowledging his unspoken cues for distance. “Well, I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink.”

“I don’t like bars,” he blurts.

Your eyes widen and you suck a sharp breath into your lungs, lips falling into a half-formed ‘oh.’

No. He didn’t mean it like––Damn it.

Kiyoomi flinches, nose wrinkling and mouth pulling into a thin line. He’s not good at this.

“Mm, well, this is less of a bar and more like a gastropub. It’s small, laid-back. Plus, it’s a Tuesday night, they’re gonna be slow, and if they’re not, we can leave and try something else...”

“It’s fine,” he rectifies sharply. Again, he sounds too harsh. “I don’t care about any of that. If it’s slow or not. If you want to go, we’ll go. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I didn’t think it was rude.”

Kiyoomi jerks his chin up, his mouth pressing into a pursed frown, peering skeptically at you, eyes narrowed. You let out a laughed exhale and tilt your head, quickly shrugging your shoulders, attempting to mollify his mistrustful stare. “I mean it!” you insist, waving your hand. “I’ll take someone who’s blunt any day of the week. It’s exhausting trying to read people who are good at hiding behind smiles, or false facades. You always know where you stand when someone is straightforward. Seriously,” you continue, grinning up at his abashed expression, “it doesn’t bother me. Be yourself. Besides, I like it. It kinda makes me jealous…”

“Jealous?” Kiyoomi echoes, watching you step past him and down the darkened street. His heart is beating out that uneven tattoo again, and it feels like he can’t catch his breath. What do you mean, ‘you like his bluntness’? No one’s ever told him that. No one’s ever told him to ‘be himself’ either. And, as if that wasn’t enough for him to chew on, now you’re casually saying that you’re jealous of his unapologetic retorts. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Sure,” you nod, slowing your footfalls, letting him catch up with you as you stride down the sidewalk. “I always lean on the polite side of things, likely because I’ve spent too many years in customer service, haha. So it’s refreshing to hear someone just speak their mind. Besides, you don’t strike me as someone who’s careless with what they say to others; you’re candid, but careful, you just don’t mince your words. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I’m babbling, again. Looks like you kinda have that effect on me, huh?”

His lips quirk at your admission and he steps a little closer, the fabric of his jacket wicking across your clothed arm as he matches your pace. “Is it far?” he asks after a time, watching as the lights of the main street twinkle between the lumbering edges of the buildings.

“Not much farther. But you might wanna put your mask up, we’ll go past the cross street and that area is always a little busy this time of night.”

[ Damn. That’s––The fact that that thought would even cross your mind–– ]

His hand is out of his pocket before he can blink, seeking the soft warmth of your curled fingers, cupping over your knuckles as he heeds your advice with his other, tugging his mask up and pinching it securely over the bridge of his nose. He can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t pause, doesn’t look down. He likely should have asked. After all, he doesn’t know you that well. But you ease your digits against his, your thumb curling over the joint of his ring finger, and his lips twitch into a smile.

You greet the girl behind the hostess stand with a hug and a few other members of the staff walk up to the table that you select, big grins and booming voices calling out jovial ‘hello’s’ and ‘good to see you’s’.

“You come here a lot?” Kiyoomi inquires, slouching against the cushions of the booth, obsidian eyes peering around the space. The table is off to the side, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the main dining area and bar, and is half covered by a glass wall that provides the two of you with an extra buffer of privacy. It’s an ideal spot, and he’s inwardly grateful that you’d chosen it.

“I used to work here,” you answer, lifting your purse onto your lap before fishing around for something within the depths of the leather. “I–ah! Here it is. I always lose stuff in here, it’s like a black hole, no matter how many times I organize it, it goes right back to being a mess. Price you pay when you have a big bag, I guess.” You lift a small bottle of hand sanitizer out and dollop some onto your palm. He blinks, following the rapid motions of your hands as you clean them off with the solution. That’s...nice. Nice feels like a strange word for this observation, but it’s true. You spy his gwaping expression and hold the bottle out, nodding your head at his coiled fingers. “Want some?”

“Thanks,” he rumbles, mimicking your motions as he eases the cold sanitizer against his chapped hands. “So you worked here?”

“Yeah! I did this and the coffee shop for a while. I was behind the bar, mostly. It was a good job, but when things picked up with my degree plan, I had to drop it.”

“Ah,” Kiyoomi hums, pulling his mask off and tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jacket. “That’s why you knew it wouldn’t be busy.”

“Yup! Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always slow. This is likely the busiest it will get. They have food here too, if you’re hungry. Got some good sushi and the agedashi tofu is one of the best in the city.”

“I already ate.” [ Shit. ]

“Ohh-kay. Well, I’m probably going to get something. They’ve got non-alcoholic drinks as well. Should be at the bottom of the menu.”

“I said I don’t like bars, not that I don’t drink.” [ Fuck. ]

“Fair enough,” you shrug, cocking your head at his clenched jaw and averted eyes. “You see anything you want?”

“Sorry,” Kiyoomi sighs, lifting the paper menu and scanning the side that lists the specials.

“I told you,” your voice is soft, and he glances up at you, glad to see that you’re still smiling happily at him, “I don’t mind. Tell you what, if you go too far I’ll let you know, sound good?” You stretch your hand toward him, bunching your fingers, except for your pinky, which is waiting, outstretched, and reaching toward him.

“What?” he asks, chin dipping and heavy brows furrowing as he eyes your hand suspiciously.

“Whaddya’ mean, ‘what?’ It’s a pinky promise. You’ve never done this before?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he deadpans, blinking slowly.

You guffaw and the burst of joyous sound makes him snicker too, his shoulders easing from that all too familiar hunch, his head ducking, the faint stain of a blush seeping over his cheeks. It’s just a laugh, he reasons, annoyed by his flushed skin and twitching fingers. Why is he getting worked up? He takes a second to refocus, but when he does, you’re still waiting for him, your pinky wiggling, blithely enticing him.

“It’s easy,” you promise. “You just hook your smallest finger with mine and we shake once on it and boom, that’s an unbreakable promise. And, well, if it kills you then I guess you’ll go down in a book of world records or something.”

Kiyoomi scoffs at your jab and lifts his arm onto the table, holding his pinky out, waiting for you to make the last move, rolling his eyes at your dramatically slow approach.

Your touch is gentle, finger ghosting over the middle joint of his pinky, curling slowly, teasingly, before it wraps around the width of his digit. Then you give him a quick squeeze, swiftly bobbing your joined fingers in a mock shake. It’s over in an instant, but you maintain the touch, gradually untwining your crooked digits. “Your fingers are long,” you observe, eyes catching his before traveling back to that lingering connection, distractedly easing your fingertip down the line of his hand and pausing against the base of his wrist.

It feels like his entire arm is electrified and a fine shiver of goose flesh breaks across his warm skin. His mouth is open, lips parted as he sucks in a shallow drag of air and he can’t stop staring, wholly enraptured by your flirtatious strokes. When your eyes rake upwards to playfully find his, that pleased smile soft against your lips, he thinks he might just lurch forward and grab you.

“There,” you beam before pulling away. “Now that that’s done, what are you gonna’ order?”

He lets you place your drink order first, saying he needs to keep looking, that it has been a while since he’s had a drink, and he’s never been all that sure of his preferences, anyway.

It’s an unexpected admission.

If there’s one thing that you’ve been relatively sure of, it’s that Sakusa is a man who doesn’t hesitate. In the two years that you’ve known him, granted from the other side of the counter of a coffee shop, he’s always known what he wants and is confident in his selections. He can rattle them off by rote, by flavor, by taste, by temperature, so seeing him this off balance, a little frazzled and out of his depth, is a bit of a surprise.

He’s not fidgety, his hands are resting placidly in his lap, feet evenly placed on the floor, but you can tell there’s an underlying thrum of agitation behind all those half ducked glances he keeps giving you, his obsidian eyes sharp, gleaming like flints each time they linger against you. He’d laughed once, before you’d squeezed his pinky with yours, and then promptly fallen back into that sullen silence, answering your questions with one word quips or hushed murmurs.

It made you feel guilty.

He said he hated bars, so maybe you should have taken that admission a little more seriously. But out of all the places the two of you could go, this late at night in downtown Osaka, you’d figured that this was likely the quietest, the one where he’d feel the most comfortable.

“So you’ve played with them for two years?” you ask, giving your server a quick thanks as they sit your drink down. “That’s impressive. But you said you went to school for four? That’s different. I bet most players skip college and go right for the pros, so why didn’t you do that?”

“Volleyball isn’t everything,” he answers, tone clipped, matter of fact, as he watches you take a sip of your drink, waiting for the clink of the ice and the gentle clatter of the glass as you set it back down on the table before he continues. “I’m not invincible. Someday I won’t be able to play. And it makes sense to have a backup, something that I can do later.”

You pop your chin into your upturned palm, lips resting against your curled fingers. “True. You’re very thorough, you know?”

Sakusa’s forehead creases, and those two perfectly stacked moles lower over his right eyebrow. “I like to do things properly, that’s all. It just feels right. To take things one step at a time. I do that with everything. I guess most see it as something repetitive, or monotonous, all those basic tasks that you do day in, day out, but I like it. And if you think of them as mindful tasks, rather than mindless, then you can get to that point where those little things become pleasure, instead of drudgery. I know that I’m not guaranteed anything, but, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to go out, to leave volleyball, satisfied. Knowing I did my best.”

It sounds stupid to his ears, pompous, and as soon as he finishes his preamble, he lets out an inaudible sigh, teeth worrying against the soft flesh of the inside of his mouth. Damn it. Why did he say all that? What’s the point? You’d only asked him about college and here he is, rattling off his ideologies and distant thoughts. Why did he–

“That’s...that’s a cool way of looking at it.”

His jaw is gritted, his face covered by a sheen of impassive blankness. But he looks up when you say that. He wants to see you, even if it’s only to take in your bewildered amusement. But you’re not giving him some piteous smirk, no, you’re looking at him like he’s helped you solve a long awaited puzzle, and your face is filled with the softest, haziest glimmer of ardent happiness that he’s ever seen. Your smile broadens, and he looks away, fingers feeling blindly for the pulse in his lowered wrist.

His heart’s pounding.

How do you do that? Then, as he tries to steady his shaking breaths, you lean back, lifting your glass to your parted lips to take a quick sip, a distant look in your eyes.

“You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way, but you’re right. I always have so much trouble explaining that mindset to new hires. Like, how do you tell them that, yeah, while this seems like a stupid thing we have you do, to keep busy during the slow period of the day, it matters in the long run. Take our cleaning routines, if you don’t clean something, and clean it diligently, then the gunk and grime builds up, and it’s harder to get out later. Things harden, become set in their ways, and I guess the same thing can happen to the pros too. It seems like most don’t go to school. They just slip right into the sport–after all, if you’re good enough to make it onto a division ranked team right out of high school, then there you go, that’s your end goal, right?

But I like that you took the little steps, the ones that people ignore, or try to bypass. It’s another sort of preparedness, really. Others may not see it that way, might think of it as wasted time, but you did what felt right for you and I know it’ll pay off. It’s–oh! Sorry! I’m babbling again! Ha, God, I’m gonna stop, okay?”

“You don’t have to,” Kiyoomi utters, arms lifting from his lap, pressing against the smooth wood of the table, ignoring the racing of his heart. “I liked it. I’m glad that you...I liked it. Keep talking. I like hearing you talk. And, uh, can I try your drink? I know nothing about gin, or whiskey, or whatever that is. I usually just stick to beer and sake.”

You bite your lip, a soft chuckle falling between the two of you, and press two fingers bashfully against your nose, covering your giddy smile and pushing your drink forward, toward his open palms. “It’s kinda nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s flustered. Hmm, but here. If you don’t drink much, then you may not have had this before. Sorry if it’s strong. Also, I go for brown liquor, so it’s got rye for the base.”

“Rye’s a whiskey, right?” he asks, pushing the tiny black straw aside and taking a careful swig from the rim of the glass. It’s got a smooth flavor, almost like the caramel notes of his doppio con panna, but without that cloying sweetness that sometimes sits against the back of his tongue when he’s finished. Instead of the hum of sugar, there is only a shiver of bitterness and then the quick bite of the alcohol is gone, passing over his teeth and down his throat in a single gulp.

It’s good.

Better than he expected. And he passes the glass back, his fingers holding against the cool surface, waiting for yours. “I’ll get that,” he tells you, an impish smirk lifting his lips. “It’s perfect.”

After that-and a second round of drinks-the night went a little smoother. He did his best to not lapse into unsociable silences and you did just as he’d asked of you and kept talking.

You traded the basics, where you were born, talked about your family, your education, degrees, pets, and, slowly, the uncertainty simply faded away.

You were easy to talk with, impossibly so; always ready with another question, a congenial quip, or an antidote about your own life. Soon he was regaling you about his cousin, Motoya, the latest antics of his teammates, his hopes for the upcoming season, for the 2021 Olympics, for anything that he could think of, anything to keep you in that seat, to keep you chatting with him for just a little longer.

[ It’s late, but that doesn’t matter. Keep talking, ask her something else. ]

Is it supposed to feel like this?

He’s never really had a relationship; not when he was in high school or college, and any of his half-formed attractions always fizzled out before they ever really started. He was too busy, too one track minded to notice, [ to care ] to find the time [ to make the time. ]

It’s certainly not love, [ Tch. Love at first sight, who believes in stuff like that anyway, this isn’t some movie, plus he’s known you for years, so it’s not first sight either ] not yet, but there’s another feeling that’s laced within this humming excitement that keeps bubbling to the surface, that has him hanging onto every word that passes from your lips.

It’s want.

He wants more, greedily so, and he hasn’t experienced that feeling, outside of volleyball, in a long time.

“I’m not too far from here. I’ll just hop on the train and then be back in my district. Easy-peasy.”

Sakusa nods at your jovial reassurances, hoisting his track bag higher against his shoulder, following you toward the lights of the street. It’s late, later than he’s used to, and his eyes feel heavy. The lull of the alcohol isn’t helping either, so he shuffles closer, bumping unevenly against you every few steps. You twist your head toward him, a faint smile on your lips, eyeing his lumbering form skeptically. “Sure I don’t need to walk you to your station, Sakusa? You look dead on your feet. Sorry I kept you out so late.”

“You didn’t,” he sighs, his words rasping past a yawn. “I wanted to stay. I’ll regret it tomorrow. For now, I’m fine.”

“Pfft, okay, well, I’ll look forward to receiving your annoyed text about me keeping you out past your bedtime in the morning then.”

Huh? Text? You want him to text you in the morning? Can he do that? Be the first person you think of when your notification lights up your dark screen, the first one that you reply to. Shit. What–what does that mean?

Sakusa slows, his hand reaching for you.

He misses your arm and snags your purse instead, jerking the straps, and by association you, a little harder than he intended. [ Damn it. His coordination’s off. ] You stumble backwards, shoulders bracing against his broad chest, and you blink up at him. You lift your face, looking at him curiously. He’s already peering down, and the glow of the distant street-lamps makes the onyx of his irises morph from jet to a rich blue. For a long breath both of you simply stare, content to watch the other, waiting for some kind of advancement in this stalemate.

You cave first. “Um, you alright?”

“What are we?” he asks pointedly, large palms running up the sides of your arms, his head tilting, dropping raven curls over his brow.

“Friends?” you reply, but it feels more like a question than an answer and you let the word hang, unsure what else you can say, what else he wants to hear. You feel a bated breath leave his lungs. It dips you back as his chest falls, slipping you minutely closer even as his hands droop limply from the curve of your shoulders. His eyes shift from yours and his lips fade into a thin line as he steps away, letting you slip from his grasp. The air between you changes, hardening back into that early uncertainty, and by the time you turn to face him fully, his hands are re-tucked into his pockets and his slouch has returned.

“What’s wrong?”

You know, but you don’t want to assume. You’d warned him after all; you’re not good at being blunt.

He gives you a frank stare, dark brows creasing, furrowing his expression. “Friends means I can’t kiss you.”

For a moment you can’t feel your heart. You know it’s beating, still diligently pumping blood through your body, but as that declaration leaves his lips it’s like your entire world has narrowed. He wants to...how can he just say that? Just blurt out whatever comes into his head and not care what happens after. Where do you find confidence like that?

You flash your gaze upward and he’s still looking at you, his unmasked face open as he stares, dark eyes watchful, half veiled behind his lashes.

He waits. He’s good at that, you think, feeling a smile creep across your face as your tongue passes over the swell of your lower lip. He instantly tracks the movement and takes a shallow step forward. You can hear his fingers coiling and uncoiling inside of the slick lining of his pockets, but that simple, near silent admission of his nervousness makes up your mind.

“Well,” you begin, eyes lowering, easing closer, pressing until you can almost feel the heat of him against you. Your hands lift tentatively, passing over the flat, honed planes of his chest until they come to rest against the top of his stomach. His nostrils flare at the tempered stroke but the rest of him remains stock still, wholly rooted to the spot, listening, observing, a glimmer of distant hope cresting against the back of his mind.

[ Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop. ]

Then, those final, all important words are leaving you, cast into the air.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Before you can look up at him, his hands are hovering beside your ears, the ghost of his touch urging you upward as he lowers himself over you.

His lips meet yours with a gentle tap and you can feel his unsteady exhale pass over your mouth as he allows himself to linger against you. It’s more like a press than a proper kiss, but you indulge him, gripping your impatient hands against the thin material of his jacket, giving him time to adjust. He’s featherlight, his lips scratchy, but the lubrication that your swiped tongue has left behind eases the touch and he gasps when you lift to meet him, your lips gliding over his.

Then he’s wavering; like he can’t decide.

He shifts away, only to return moments later, lips never fully leaving yours, caressing until you’re doggedly chasing after him, a poorly concealed groan slipping from your throat. He hums appreciatively at your enthusiasm and steps impossibly closer, his fingertips tapping under your jaw and down your neck.

On one of his shuddering pulls you slip your tongue over his lips, tracing the seam, wordlessly asking for him to deepen the kiss. The sound he makes in return is garbled, caught against his throat and lost in the shuffle of his hands, his breath, his want.

His arms are like steel cables as they twine around your waist, holding you to him as he finally opens, his teeth clattering against yours in his rush. You smile against his eagerness and pop onto the tips of your toes, hands releasing his jacket, sliding up his face before you let your fingers coil into his obsidian curls, your teeth nipping against his dampened lip. He lets out another hushed gasp, the flat of his palm warm against your shoulder blades as he urges you upward.

“You’re — mmm, you’re too tall, Sakusa,” you complain, finally easing away from his greedy kisses, and grinning when he follows.

“Kiyoomi,” he insists, hands cupping, thumbs tracing the edge of your jaw, dropping another kiss against your upturned lips. “Call me that. I want to hear it.”

You laugh and he huffs impatiently against you, brows folding into that deep crease. “Not joking,” he grumbles, lips and breath hot against yours, “I want to hear you say it.”

When you manage, at long last, to pull away from him again, your eyes bright, lips kiss shined and swollen, he knows this image of you will be etched into his mind for weeks to come. It’s perfect [ you’re perfect ] and all he can think about is that he wants so much more.

“Kiyoomi,” you call, head canted at his staggered expression, eyes glittering with fond amusement. “You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?”

He scowls at your question and tugs you back, kissing you until your laugh fades away and his name comes a little easier.

[ You: 9:18am ]

You sure you want to go there? I don’t care if we do something else instead, your call.

[ Kiyoomi: 10:54am ]

Got the tickets. See you after your shift.

“Bringing your phone onto the court–ballsy move Omi,” Atsumu leers, dropping his bag beside Kiyoomi’s, a troublesome smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snaps, darkening the screen with a click and placing the device beside his trainers. “At least I know how to keep it hidden. And you’re the reason we’re banned from bringing them out here at all. You and your stupid snapchat stories.”

“Omi! Ya’ big jerk! Be quiet, ya’ know yer’ not supposed to mention that app where the coaches can–”

“Miya!” a booming voice calls from across the gym, “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing! If I catch you on that phone, you can expect to do a hundred serves at the end of this practice match! Got it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, a lackadaisical grin ghosting over his lips as he neatly dodges Atsumu’s elbowed jab. “See? I’m not the problem here.”

“Such a jackass. It’s a miracle (Y/N) is even giving you the time of day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kiyoomi bristles, heavy brows creasing.

“Means I don’t know what she sees in ya,’ you big dummy. Where you taking her this week?”

“Why do you care?”

“Damn it. Why do I bother? I mean really, am I some kinda masochistic or something? Yer’ terrible to talk with, but here I am, attempting some harmless small-talk. Cut a guy some slack, would ya’?”

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi stares, onyx eyes narrowing at Atusmu’s haggard expression.

“You! I’m just trying to have a conversation, you know, checking in, seeing how yer’ doing. Making sure you haven’t screwed things up yet. Ya’ know, being polite!” Atsumu glowers, golden hair falling over one umber eye as he flashes Kiyoomi a fixed glare.

“What would I screw up?”

Atsumu lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Tell you what, ask me that question again when you do, how’s that sound?”

“Miya–”

“Bringing your phone to practice, coming in late, or right before things kick off, yeah, you got it bad, don’t cha’? You better watch yer’self Omi.”

“The hell you talking about?” Kiyoomi sneers, chin lowering, steeling himself for one of Atsumu’s long-winded tangents.

“God, yer’ so dense, especially with shit that’s not volleyball. Come on, Omi, use your head. The coaches, the managers, they’re all gonna try and make you pick. That’s what they do. She’s a nice girl, and I’d hate to see her get caught up in all of that bullshit. Stop gaping at me like that! Like I’m not making any sense! I’m trying to look out for ya’! Not that you deserve it, being such a prickly asshole, and all...”

Kiyoomi sighs, lips pursing into a sharp point, his shoulders slumping forward, arms hanging limply against his sides. Fine, he’ll engage. Whatever. If it’ll get Atsumu to explain whatever the hell he’s talking about before the practice match, he reasons, then it’ll be worth it. “We’re going to the museum in Tennoji Park.”

Atsumu stares. “Damn. You agreed to go to a public park? In the daytime? That’s real big, if true.”

“I’ll serve every ball directly at the back of your head, don’t think I won’t.”

“Alright, alright,” the setter laughs, propping his hands against his hips. “Shocked yer’ not just staying close to that one restaurant. You seem like a, ‘this is what I like and I’m sticking to it’ kinda guy. Not one to branch out. You know, boring.”

“How do you know about the restaurant?”

“She told me about it?”

Kiyoomi curls his lip over his teeth. “When did she do that?”

“The other day, went by for a coffee.”

“Ugh,” he huffs, swinging one arm across his chest, stretching out the muscles of his biceps. “What else did she say?”

Atsumu grins, bracing his forearm against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waggling his brows mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. I’ll just ask her.”

“Ughhh, zero fun. That’s what you are. Tell me, ya’ got a mode that’s not: ‘Sakusa Kiyoomi, ‘the world’s most boring man’,” Atsumu groans, head dropping as he lets his body hang limply off of Kiyoomi’s stiffened form.

“Shut up. What we do isn’t your business anyway, so enough with the questions. You’re just poking your nose in shit that doesn’t concern you,” Kiyoomi accuses, shrugging Atsumu’s heavy arm off of his, glaring.

Atsumu straightens, a quiet scoff puffing between his smirked lips. “Fine. So touchy today. And you think this crap ain’t gonna bleed into your playing? Yer’ way–”

“Line up!” the assistant coach booms, silencing Atsumu’s bristled retort. Kiyoomi opts to hold his tongue, letting the setter pace away from him, eyes narrowing while sucking in a steadying breath before he follows.

Damn it. He got so caught up in––Atsumu never told him what he meant.

It’s early afternoon and the broad concrete pathways of the park are mostly empty. The spring flowers are in bloom and the ginkgo trees sway in the crisp breeze that dips in from the sea. It’s a beautiful day, but Kiyoomi can’t shake himself out of his head.

He’d stared dutifully at the portraits in the museum, read the placards that rested below the painted screens and pottery, and listened when you asked him questions, or answered his own. He shouldn’t be like this, he fumes, adjusting the ear straps of his mask as the two of you step out into the bright sunlight once more.

Who cares what Atsumu was trying to imply. It was vague and unhelpful; likely meant to get under his skin, something that–

“You alright?” Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he looks down at you, brows unknotting, eyes softening as they rake over your curious face.

“Yeah. Miya said something at practice that I’m having trouble forgetting.”

“Oh? What?”

He tells you, and it feels like some of the tension leaves his shoulders. It’s nice.

Usually he’s guarded, quiet. Sure, he’ll let others know what he’s thinking with little finesse, but that doesn’t mean they know the truth of what’s on his mind. This is different. With you it’s easy to disassemble, unexpectedly so. It’s only been a month since the two of you started seeing each other, but in that time he’s opened up more to you than he has to anyone, outside of his family, and he’s still not sure if he likes that.

[ That’s a lie. He likes it; he does. He’s just not used to it. ]

“Make you pick?” you ask, skimming your hand over the red railing of the bridge, head cocked thoughtfully to the side. “He actually said that?”

“Mentioned it. Like I said, Miya talks in circles. I usually just tune him out, but this felt...different.”

“Hmm,” you ponder, easily keeping up with his long strides, your body close to his. “Well, maybe he means they, the coaches that is, don’t want you to be distracted? I could see that. I mean, you are playing at an extremely high level and next year is the Olympics. Damn, it feels strange to say that. I know someone who’s playing in the Olympics…”

“I know that. And I’m not distracted,” his tone is clipped and his chin ducks, his side swept curls fanning over his left eye.

You look over at his tensed expression and puff out an exhale of air. “Well, maybe he’s just messing with you? You said he likes to do that.”

“Told you, this felt different.” The words are sharp, punctuated by his clenched jaw and the forward roll of his shoulders, and you suck your teeth softly, staring across the shimmering surface of the pond as the two of you cross the last stretch of the bridge. You’re on the back foot here, a little unsure of how to reassure him, but you can tell he wants to shake this off, so you press the issue, hoping it’ll help ease that stiff tension that’s building in his shoulders.

“Okay, it felt different. How so?”

The words come without hesitation. [ This isn’t normal for him, but it’s also so damn nice to know that he can be this comfortable with someone. ] “Miya usually babbles. Goes on and on about the most inane things. But he also loves to chatter about his reasoning, and this time he didn’t. Instead of answering my question, he gave me that shitty smirk and changed the subject to something he knew would distract me––why else would he say he’d gone by the coffee shop?”

“I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, but he seems like the kinda guy who likes to provoke–to see if he can get a reaction out of you and...I know it’s not much of a reason, but maybe that’s all that it was?”

Kiyoomi gives you a curt nod and picks up his pace, his hands coiling into clenched fists within the confines of his pockets. You follow him, unsure if you should strike up another line of conversation or let him simmer for a bit. You opt for the latter and turn your attention to the scenery of the parklands, quietly studying the picnicking couples and laughing clusters of children that jostle beside a nearby set of monkey bars. No matter his mood, it’s a lovely day and you’re still glad he’d agreed to come with you to the park.

But when the trail reaches the main street, you pause. “Hey, you wanna call it a day?” you ask, a soft smile on your lips. If he needs time, you rationalize, then you can give him that.

Kiyoomi jerks to a stop, his heavy brows furrowing as he stares down at you. “What? No,” he grumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask.

You raise your hands in a gesture of supplication, palms facing his looming form. “It’s just...you seem like you’re upset...”

“I am upset,” Kiyoomi answers frankly, his breath heavy.

His honesty never fails to catch you off balance, and you laugh cheerfully at his stoic expression. Kiyoomi promptly fixes you with a perturbed stare, his eyes narrowing. “Kiyoomi, if you’re upset, then we should head back. You don’t have to stick around me if you want space, I totally–– ”

“I don’t want space. I want to be here, with you,” he bites, stepping closer, watching as your grin fades into a perplexed gape.

For a breath you’re flabbergasted, lips parted, eyes wide, but with a shake of head you step forward, your arm twining with his, and dipped forehead pressing against the sleek material of his jacket. “Alright, then stay with me,” you smile, hands squeezing against his coiled muscles, a pleased warmth spreading up your joined arms before flowing downward, into the pit of your stomach.

The contact, as muted as it is by the shell of his track jacket, makes him shiver and he can feel the thump of his heart speed up. It presses against his ribs and makes his chest feel tight and his head light, and when your fingers slip into the warmth of his pocket, your smooth digits tracing the knuckles of his hand, he lets out a contented sigh before lightly brushing his chin over the top of your bent head.

“Come on,” he murmurs, the rich tone of his deep voice dampened by the stretch of his mask, but you can still hear the creep of his smile within the clipped words, “I’ve got an idea.”

You’ve walked past the training facility plenty of times, so many that it’s a blip on your radar now, its jagged silhouette falling into the category of mundane, but never, not in a million years, did you ever see yourself actually passing through those glass doors.

It’s a massive space.

The blazing down-lights scatter brightness over the finely polished elastic flooring. You’d worn comfortable shoes to the park, but they still scuff loudly against the unfamiliar material so you stop gawping and look toward Kiyoomi’s arched shoulders.

“Uh, are you sure we can be in here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice down, but it reverberates around the vast space and you wrinkle your nose at the sharpness of the sound.

“Yes. I work here,” Kiyoomi answers simply, tugging his mask down and stopping just short of one of the white lines, cocking his dark head at your question.

“Okay,” you snicker, rolling your eyes playfully at his static features, “let me rephrase that, are you sure I can be here?”

“Why would you being here be a problem? Practice is done for the day. It’ll be fine. Worst case, Bokuto or Miya might show,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, a faint smile passing over his lips. “So what do you say, you wanna try to play?”

A full-throated laugh bubbles out of you, and you shake your head frantically. “No way! You’ll either kill me with one of those terrifying spikes, or be bored out of your mind trying to teach me the ropes. Besides, I haven’t played volleyball since middle school, and even then, I’m, uh, not sure a quick rotation in a 40 minute P.E. class counts as playing. It was more like all of us kids screwing around and testing out how many times we could annoy our teacher.”

He snorts at your explanation and strides over to a dark red cart, digging one of his long arms into the depths before straightening and returning with a yellow and blue Mikasa ball that’s perfectly balanced within his broad palm. “Humor me,” he smirks, one brow quirking upward.

“Tch, I’m not wearing the right clothes...or shoes,” you bemoan jovially, but you’re already letting your purse slip from your shoulders.

“So whiny,” Kiyoomi tuts, stepping away from the cart and tossing the ball rapidly between his spread hands. “That doesn’t matter. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, you will, will you?” you tease, a beguiling smile lifting your lips. He looks so good in here, you think, admiring the flex and bounce of his hands, the lean coil of his powerful neck that peeks from underneath his track jacket, so different from the stoic man who walked beside you in the park.

As soon as he touched the ball, his entire demeanor changed. Within the space of a few seconds he’d gone from hunched and brooding to dauntless and firm, all of his early agitation and uncertainty forgotten as he slipped into the comfort of his element.

“All right, coach,” you sigh with mock dejection, “where do you want me?”

“On the other side of the net. See that line? The first one past the netting? That’s the attack line. Stand there.”

He’s clear-cut in his instruction, telling you where to plant your feet and how to stand with the correct form. You listen intently, nodding or asking one or two clarifying questions, and he’s patient with your queries, answering you swiftly and thoroughly, obsidian eyes keen as they follow your movements across the net.

“Alright, that looks good. We’re going to do a simple drill, the catch and throw. Don’t worry about setting the ball, or receiving it with your arms, see how it feels to position yourself under it, just make sure it never gets behind you, and catch it with both hands and toss it back to me. Try and keep it in an easy arc.”

You blink at him, pulling your lips into an exaggerated frown. “Just catch it? That sounds too easy…”

“It’s meant to be. It teaches you how to see the ball. If you’re wanting something harder, I can always up the speed as you get better at it. Now, you ready?”

You nod and the ball lifts from his fingers in a flash, gliding over the net cleanly, and you shift back, arms outstretched, feet planted firmly against the slick flooring. You catch it neatly and mimic his overhand toss, sending it back to Kiyoomi’s half crouched form. But the arc isn’t controlled and the ball paps against the tape of the net, screwing up the trajectory and sending it shuddering toward the gym floor.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at your clumsy return, but he’s already moving, his form a blur. He slides under it easily, back curved under his well-muscled legs, all ten fingers spread, as he neatly catches the ball, sending it prettily back to your side.

You’re so mesmerized by the fluidity of his supple form that you completely ignore the returning ball and it slaps against the floor with a crack. Always the professional, he’s intently watching the ball’s trajectory and doesn’t notice your open stare at first, but once his dark eyes flash back to yours a faint blush seeps across the well-cut apples of his cheeks and he ducks his head, obscuring his flush with a cascade of onyx curls. “That’s one point for me,” he sighs, his voice low, tone gruffly catching over the words as he studiously avoids your awed expression.

“Points?” you repeat dumbly, snapping your mouth closed before popping your hands on your hips, forcing yourself out of your stupor. “Hey! You didn’t say anything about points.”

“It’s a game,” he counters with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “of course there’s gonna be points.”

“Pfft,” you chortle as you walk toward the discarded volleyball. “What happened to this is just a drill?”

Thirty minutes later your hands are aching and you move sluggishly as your feet squeak over the polished flooring of the court. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, looks perfectly at ease, his eyes hungrily stalking the track of the ball as it flies to his side of the court. When you miss the next lightning quick toss that he sends your way, you drop your head and lift your hands, palms flattened and facing toward him, signaling your defeat as a heaving exhale leaves your straining lungs. “I think that’s it for me. I’m about to collapse onto the floor, like seriously. This is not a joke.”

Kiyoomi huffs out a bemused laugh and ducks under the netting, pausing beside your half crouched figure. He peers down at you through the lazy waves of his hair. You look staggered from the constant shuffling and overhand tosses, but you smile up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“I may be down for the count, but it looks like you wanna keep going,” you say coyly, eyes shining under the brilliance of the lights. [ You’re so pretty ] He [ wants to kiss you again ] sucks in a shallow breath and mutely nods at your assessment. [ Don’t go. ]

“Well,” you begin, lips falling into a thoughtful pout, arms twisting behind your back, “In that case, I’ve got some things that I need to finish up, anyway.”

[ No. Don’t go. Not yet. ]

“I left my laptop at the cafe, so I’ll head that way. Maybe I can see you–”

“Use mine.” The words leave him with a sigh, his voice hushed, but you hear him and your head whips up.

“What–I’m sorry, what?”

“Use my laptop. It’s here, in my locker.” [ Should he have said, please? He’ll say it, if that will get you to stay a little longer. ]

“You don’t...that’s not necessary–– ”

“I know. I want to,” he closes the distance between the two of you, his hand ghosting up the line of your arm. “Stay. If you want to.”

You contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your bottom lip, the flicker of a grin catching at the corners of your mouth. Finally, you nod.

[ Good. ]

He can feel his pulse against his eardrums and he feels jittery now but through that excited haze he tells you he’s going to change into his gym clothes and grab it, that there’s an outlet under the scorer’s table that sits at the edge of the court, and that he’ll be right back. He’s not sure why he feels the need to elaborate, that’s not like him, but he’s doing a lot of things that don’t feel like him these days.

He likes you; he thinks as he steps toward the double doors that will take him into the locker room.

He likes you so much.

When he returns, he’s wearing a dark pair of shorts and a bright yellow shirt emblazoned with the words Itachiyama VBC across his left pectoral. The laptop is propped under his muscled arm and he walks slowly toward you, dark eyes watching you thoughtfully. But you’re not meeting his gaze. No, your regard falls to the curve of his calves and the sharp jut of his ankles before you track back up to his thighs and linger over the ripple and pull of the corded brawn that peeks from under the line of his shorts, and it takes him clearing his throat to lure your eyes back up to his burning face.

You’ve seen him in his MSBY uniform, and you’ve seen him in various outfits over the last month, but the way you’re watching him right now makes his skin prickle and the air around the two of you feels charged, like the smallest push could create some kind of reaction.

He pauses beside the table and waits for you to sit before he leans down, one leg shaking restlessly under him as he clacks his passcode across the black keys. He’s lifting his right hand to click ‘enter,’ when you cup your hand under his jaw.

Kiyoomi quavers under your touch, a low shiver slipping up his spine as he twists to face you, his heavy brows arched and onyx eyes wide. He’s perfectly level with you and so close he can faintly smell your lavender shampoo. It’s a nice scent, lulling and woodsy and he wants to shift closer, but before he can act on his instinct you’re already leaning upwards and using your fingertips to dip his head forward, your lips pressing a chaste kiss against his topmost mole, breath warm against his heated skin.

“Thank you,” you purr, delicately resting the tip of your nose against his curled hair.

It feels like his body is sputtering to a halt, his arms heavy, his head desperately following your touch as you shift back, a half groaned sigh tight against his split lips. His fingers are twitching against the cool surface of the table and he knows he must look like an absolute idiot when he lifts his eyes back to yours, but he doesn’t care.

He’s glad you’re going to stay.

“Question for you,” you ask from your perch on the scorer’s table, your fingers flying over the computer keys as you clatter out another email. “How the hell do your hands do that?”

Kiyoomi smirks at your curious amusement and flips his wrists deftly upwards, easing onto his haunches, flicking his fingers out and rolling his newly stretched wrists as he finishes his final cool down routine. “It’s called joint hyper-mobility. Most lose it when they get older, I’ve been lucky.”

The two of you have been at the training facility for hours. You’d dutifully finished up some last-minute work enquiries and partially outlined the basics for your upcoming grant proposal, while Kiyoomi worked on his spin rotation and spikes.

You’d watched him intermittently, teeth plucking at the swell of your lower lip each time he lept into the air for a jump serve, or dropped low to the ground as he dug another ball up from his hit to the nearby wall, so you’d noticed when he’d finished his first water bottle. He’d set the plastic down, the tap ringing hollowly over the quiet gym, and rose from your folding chair, making your way over, already asking him where a water station was.

When you’d returned, passing the newly filled bottle back to him, your fingers stroked up his arm and swirled faint patterns against his clammy skin as he steadied the plastic in his grasp. And later, when you’d refilled his second water bottle, you’d pushed some of his raven waves back, lifting onto the balls of your feet to tuck the dampened strands behind the shell of his ear.

He was a sweaty mess, but that didn’t bother you.

Usually he didn’t like for others to touch him when he was like this. Something about the sheen and prickle of the salty perspiration bothered him, [ disgusted him ] so he actively shunned his teammates when they sought high fives during a game, but this was different.

The instant your fingers alighted against his skin he’d felt a jolting lurch of electricity, but instead of pulling from it, he’d leaned into it, draping his broad palm over your tracing digits, or resting his warm cheek against your open hand, eyes half lidded as they watched for your reaction.

He liked this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi? Uh, hello, Earth to Kiyoomi! You listening?”

The sound of your voice jerks him from his musings, and he glances at you. “Hmm?”

“I said, how do you feel about a low-key dinner?”

“I’d prefer it,” Kiyoomi replies, easing from his haunches to his feet, rolling his long arms over his head as he stands.

“Yeah, but I mean...low-key, low-key.”

He fixes you with a flat stare, his face falling into that well practiced blankness, obsidian eyes dimmed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I’ve got some things that I’ve been meaning to cook and, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is...did you want to maybe have dinner at my apartment? I know you’re picky about how your food is prepared, so if you wanna go out instead, that’s fine too. I won’t be offended. I just wanted to– ”

“I’d like that, but...can you cook?” he rumbles, a teasing smile coiling against his lips.

“Oh, I see. No, you got me. Totally can’t. I just wanted to know if you’d suffer through burnt rice, and then lie and tell me you’d liked it, or some shit,” you threaten, sticking your tongue out and scrunching your face at his blatant leer.

“Don’t worry, I’d definitely tell you.”

“Pfft. You’re the worst, you know that? Now go shower. If we wait too long, we’ll hit rush hour at the station and I bet that’s pretty high on your list of things to avoid at all costs.”

Your apartment is small.

Well, compared to his. But his place is an empty shell, brittle, almost sterile in its vacant emptiness. He’s not there often, so why fill it with more than the bare essentials? It’s got what he needs, and he’s never been bothered by the Spartan coldness of the tiles and dark wood, that is, until he steps into your space.

There’s so much color.

The living room is blanketed in a mix of cheery yellows, warm reds, and deep purples. It’s not displeasing, but it makes him pause within the confines of the genkan, onyx eyes wide under his raised brows. It’s a difference. Now there’s an unexpected worry that’s pricking at the front of his mind.

“You coming?” you ask, poking your head around the cut of the wall that divides your living room from your kitchen, peering curiously at his tense expression.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, easing his trainers off of his feet. This place reminds him that there’s still so much about you he doesn’t know.

So, to alleviate himself from his lingering trepidations, he peers curiously around the apartment.

Most of your furniture is Western. And while there is a traditional chabudai beside your kitchen and a familiar kotatsu that rests beneath the glass doors of your balcony, the rest of the room is decorated with cushioned couches, stiff-backed chairs, neatly organized shelving units, a large tv and stand, and several side tables that hold a mixture of lamps, artfully stacked books, picture frames and candles.

He’s still gazing over the plethora of things when you appear beside his elbow. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself at home. The remote for the tv should be on the kotatsu. You alright with soba stir fry and okonomiyaki for dinner? It’s easy, well, quick...”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi breathes, voice muted as his eyes rake over one of your bookshelves. “You could have taken one at the gym, you know...a shower.”

“Oh-ho, sure! Like a shower at your gym doesn’t come with the awful possibility that one of your teammates or, god forbid, coaches could have walked in. Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckle, shaking your head as you pad over to the small hallway that separates your kitchen and living space from the rest of your apartment. “I won’t be long. Please do not rob me, kay’?”

Kiyoomi blatantly scoffs at your remark but doesn’t look up until he hears the click of your bathroom door. Instantly, his feet carry him toward your collection of books and miscellany, one long finger tracing up paper spines. He will not miss this opportunity.

He’s curious, ravenously so.

There are small bowls that are filled with a mismatch of silver and gold jewelry, peeling bound novels with English titles printed down their spines, and asymmetric jars that carry the weight of seashells that gleam translucent and bright against the dimming sunlight.

Beaming smiles radiate from your collection of pictures. Some are snapshots of you and others who look enough like you he assumes they must be your family, while other images are older, with people dressed in vintage clothing, the photos sheened in dull greys and time blown sepia rather than vibrant, modern colors.

Then there are the books. The room is littered with them. Most are organized within the confines of the shelves, but a few are stacked on the kotatsu and he flips open one cover, eyes scanning the orderly lines of Japanese that dart down the pages.

There’s just so much here, so many little pieces of you that are scattered about, and he wants to see...no, he wants to ask you about all of it.

Dazed, he leaves the open space of the living room and steps toward the kitchen. It’s less cluttered in here, and he can smell the faint tang of bleach and lemon as he moves onto the dark tiles. Clearly, the fastidious habits you’ve displayed at the cafe are ingrained into your daily routines.

Cleanliness and routine. You’ll always have that in common.

His roving observations falter at your fridge. It’s covered in a scattered array of playful magnets, pinning down lists and newer Polaroids and he steps closer, index finger extended once more as he glides the digit down the faded ink and shine of the photos. Resting atop one of the larger check-lists is a crisp slip of cardstock. It’s clearly been given pride of place and Kiyoomi curves himself downward, somber brows wrinkling as he reads the print.

The departments of Anthropology, History, Languages, and Education invite you to attend:

The Deans Meeting

10th Annual Conference & New Faculty Welcome Event

Thursday, April 23rd

6:30 - 9:30 p.m.

Graduate School of Human Sciences, Osaka University

(Number Attending: ____ *limit of one guest per invitee)

Kiyoomi straightens, raking a hand up through his loose curls. The 23rd? That’s a month...no...almost five weeks away. He slips his cellphone out of his jacket, thumb tapping over to his calendar. It’s a Friday...but good, there’s no game that day–however there is a team meeting. If he asks now, he should be able to be excused from the meeting and maybe the mid-day practice as well. You haven’t mentioned this event to him, he muses, fingers rapidly tapping the date into his reminders, but it looks important and he wants to go with you, if you’ll let him.

He hears the telltale shudder of your shower’s cut-off valve and he turns, ready to walk back to the neutral safety of your living room when he spies a haphazardly cracked doorway that clearly leads into your bedroom. His feet are carrying him around the low base of the chabudai, and before he can justify his impulsive [ curious, hungry ] reasoning he’s already leaning in, unabashedly looking over the space.

The room is dark; the dusky light of the sunset is muffled by the curtains that drape over the large window, but Kiyoomi marvels, obsidian eyes whisking over the small space, greedily taking in the neat folds of your downy comforter, the soft pillows that nestle under the headboard, and the fan that sits atop the tatami mats. It smells like you in here; the chilled air holds the gentle scent of rich florals and spice and he wants to step closer, but then his hand is catching against the doorframe and he jerks back, hurriedly gulping down a sharp breath as his black hair slumps over his hooded eyes.

It’s...it’s not...he shouldn’t have looked. It’s not polite, but damn, he almost doesn’t care.

What would it be like to step past that threshold? To walk into something that’s so saturated with you? He feels like his skin is too close, too heavy, and he wants nothing more than to stretch out on the cool sheets of your bed to ease that simmer that’s thrumming under his heated flesh.

Wait. A bed. You have a bed.

Shit.

Kiyoomi’s always been content with his futon, satisfied with the simplicity of it. He’s always considered beds to be a waste of space, unnecessary, after all, he’s just sleeping on it. Why did it matter?

Unanswered questions whir around his half cocked head. What if you don’t like futons? If you think they’re uncomfortable, or inconvenient? Besides, now he’s picturing laying with you on a bed, [ this bed ] not a futon. Kiyoomi wants to see you stretched out beside him, comfortable and happy, with that tantalizing smile and those playful eyes watching him, waiting for him. What side do you prefer? Right? Left? And then? What happens when you’ve picked your spot and settled in?

Would you want him to shift closer? Could he run his palms past your arms and down the sloping curves of your hips? Would you do the same for him? What would your nails feel like as they scratched faint lines along his sides, over the muscles of his abdomen, or down his back? You’d be so close. So close that every sigh that passed between your lips would be shared with him and he’d inhale every sound, his lips rough against yours. And if you arched into him, your hands urging him to straddle himself over your intoxicating softness, your thighs spreading as he lowers his hips––

The bathroom door clicks and the fevered daydream fades, his feet cumbersome and tangled as he lumbers back to the living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t like this breathlessness, doesn’t like that his hands are trembling as he stuffs them into his pockets. Any second now you’ll be in front of him and he wants to hold you, to let the pull of your hands and the sleek drag of your lips satiate the feel [ throb ] of his unexpected [ visceral ] arousal.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take that long, I just–– ”

The distance between the two of you is closed within a heartbeat, and his outstretched fingertips glide down the smooth line of your neck. You suck in a sharp breath, your body rigid under his hold, [ damn it, too fast ] and he drops his hands, easing you into the suddenness of his movement with lazy kisses against your warm cheek and neck, grinning when you lean into him at last.

[ Yes. Perfect. ]

You want him to kiss you properly, and you do your best to chase his lips, your arms folding around his bowed neck as you tap a few impatient kisses against his lowered forehead. But he ignores your temptations, not ready to move away from the intoxicating fragrance of your freshly cleaned skin. That soothing smell of peppermint and fresh lavender is near ambrosial, and he greedily digs his nose against you as his muscular arms drape over your sides, and his broad hands pause against the small of your back.

His sharp exhales against your shower dampened neck make you shiver but he maneuvers you closer, rubbing his lower lip against the dip of your shoulder before lifting to catch his teeth on your pulse. He knows just what you like now; he thinks smugly, tracing the flat of his tongue over a line of gooseflesh that bursts over your slicked skin.

In the last month he’s gained a steady mastery of your preferences when it came to his kisses. You preferred to start things slowly, to have him cup your face and stoke you up steadily, but once he eases down the intricate line of your neck, well, all that softness and coy sweetness would bleed into something else entirely.

You liked it rougher then; liked for these caresses to be charged with lightning fast pushes and pulls, your fingers alternating between the sides of his jaw or the coiled thickness of his hair as you swayed him closer, and that shift never failed to set his heart racing and often sent his tightly reigned control spiraling. But that’s not what he wants, not right now, so he’s careful to keep you at bay, distracting your breathless twists with a fresh set of nips and unhurried pecks against your throat.

He wants to lose himself in you; to blank out all the other worries. The differences don’t matter, not when he can hold you like this.

“Hey, Kiyoomi,” you gasp and only then does he stop his incessant assault, arms tensing as they clutch you to the broad slope of his chest, his dark waves falling heavily against your kiss glistened shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice reverberating against your wet skin.

“What...what’s gotten into you?” you falter, distracted by the hum of his low tone and the soothing pass of his hands as they curve along your spine.

“Dunno, just felt like kissing you,” he lies impassively, lifting his head from you, obsidian eyes shielded by his mussed curls, the tops of his cheeks aglow.

You exhale a tight laugh at his serious, but utterly flushed expression. “Okay–so why did you stop?”

“Liked it that much, huh? I’m hungry,” he clarifies, a smirk curling his erubescent lips and you laugh, melting that jaunty grin into his usual straightlaced frown. “Tch,” he tries again, sliding his dark eyes away from your open bemusement, a pink blush staining the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that I...hmph, come on, don’t act like you’re not hungry, too...”

You were an excellent cook. Not that he’d fully meant his droll quip at the gym; after all, why offer to do something if you’re not good at it? But he’s glad he agreed to a home cooked meal.

Besides, there is something soothing about the whole thing.It was nice, watching you deftly maneuver around your tiny kitchen, turning on burners, setting timers, and arranging the ingredients in simple bowls and plates; it reminded him of the coffee shop. And he’s always liked watching you work. Your movements were always smooth [ elegant ]. You kept your hands close and your elbows in, so confident in the motions of your ingrained routines and the tidiness of your space, that you could easily carry on a conversation with him, your eyes careful to meet his over the top of the espresso machine.

But this is better than watching you in the coffee shop. There’s no divider now. There’s just you and him. It’s comforting and he wants to experience it again and again.

You let him set the plates out, chop the vegetables, prep the soba, and asked him to pick out some beer from your fridge, saying you trusted his choice and chuckling good-naturedly when he padded back to your side, four cans sticking icily to his palms as he asked a few [ five or six ] clarifying questions about the brews.He enjoys your cheerful teasing; he thinks as the two of you sit at the low chabudai; it makes him feel like he fits in, like he can be part of this side of you. You tuck your legs to one side as you sit, your shoulder gently bumping against his as you ease into a comfortable position on the tatami mats and Kiyoomi leans closer, indulging himself in the press long after you’ve picked up your chopsticks–a shared meal of of cabbage and onion okonomiyaki and salmon stir fry resting between the two of you.

It’s a simple thing, all of this touch, but Kiyoomi can’t get enough of it. Every time your arm brushes against his, or you ask him to pass you something from his side of the table, he wants to prolong the contact, to keep his fingers beside yours, or feel the warmth of your thigh and the jut of your hip as he shifts nearer.

He didn’t think he enjoyed being touched.

He always did his utmost to avoid it, shunning the clapped backs and constant high fives that always seemed to be prepackaged and expected in the contact heavy sport of volleyball. Not because he didn’t like his teammates [ sure, sometimes– eh, most of the time ] they were too much, but he genuinely liked playing with them. But he didn’t enjoy the balmy heat of skin on skin contact, or the worry of shared germs. Touching meant weakness. It allowed things to spread from person to person; it created variables, and more variables always meant things could slip out of his control. No, Kiyoomi valued the predictable, the known, the cleanliness and routine, and touch threw most of that out of the equation.

He doesn’t like touch.

Yet he’s craving yours.

It’s another thing that isn’t like him, he contemplates, passing his empty bowl to you, already missing that pleasing closeness you’d shared with him as you walk back into your kitchen and that stark absence makes him stand. It’s an urge, a compulsion, and it’s not something he wants to question so he listens to his instincts, feet planted firmly beneath him as he follows you, his hands lifted, reaching for you. When he tugs you against his chest, his dark head dropping beside yours, jet curls fanning beside your cheek and along your neck, he feels the ache within him settle and he lets himself wallow in the familiarity of crisp peppermint that sits against your skin. [ There. He can worry about the rest later, right now this is all he wants. ]

“I should go,” he whispers, the tip of his nose cool against you. He locks his forearms around your waist and sighs when you rest your temple against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

“Yeah,” you echo, cupping your fingers over his crossed arms and stroking them over his goose-fleshed skin. “I work in the morning. So I need to be up early.”

His steady breaths match yours and he pulls you closer, humming contentedly as the curve of your back falls into the hollow of his chest. “I’ll go,” Kiyoomi stalls, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your neck. He really should. There are only a few more trains tonight, but he can’t let go.

So he lingers, his heavy body leaning against yours, full lips dragging along your pulse as his arms loop tightly around you. You twist your head and he lets you return his caresses, groaning against the sweet pressure of your lips. You’re gentle with him, your kisses filled with restrained desire, and the gossamer touch makes him reach for more. When you pull away, your eyes shining in the gleam of your kitchen lights, he brings you back, his broad palms turning you to him as his chapped fingers tilt your chin, his arms cupping you so close he can feel the thud of your heart against his.

He [ doesn’t want to ] should go.

notes: @kugutsuu made me these lovely lines. aren’t they pretty! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

229 notes · View notes

aelingalathyniusrailme · 3 years

Text

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together.

Gwynriel Pirate au pt 6

this chapters a little long and fluffy but I really like it and I finally gave it a name

Here are the other parts if you’re interested :) pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5

what had azriel’s life become? In the past 24 hours his ship became infested with dangerous females, he had given up his most prized possession, and he was on his way to find a being that still haunted his nightmares.

Berdara was a fine persuader but money was even better. Too bad they seemed to come in tandem. The captain of the shadowsinger needed this hall and there was no way in hell he was loosing a dime to the cutthroat redhead he now lived with.

He stole a glance toward her to find her staring intently at the map. Her mind, her calculating, cold, ruthless mind at work. Her eyes shot up to his and she gave him a smirk, flashing the whites of her teeth and winked. he knew others would see a friendly smile but all he saw were fangs

Infuriating as she might be, she had not said one word, in the past few hours about his meltdown or the other thing he had yet to let himself dwindle over. He was caught between appreciation and the feeling that he wasn’t worth a second thought to her.

“so where will my crew and I be sleeping” her voice was light but there was a slight edge.

“The room next to mine.” He grit his teeth in preparation for the comment that was sure to follow that statement. “now you’re going to say something crude”

at the same time gwyneth said with a wink, “want to keep me close, captain? all you have to do is ask?”

The slight shock on her face elicited pure joy from azriel. While hidden, a practiced eye saw the way her mouth slightly parted and her eyes flare. It was his turn to smirk as he responded, “Your majesty is becoming quite predictable.”

gwyn smiled her psychotic smile and stepped closer to him. too close. “wouldn’t want that,” she whispered into his hear as if she was telling him a secret. Her voice wrapped it’s claws around his throat and squeezed, pulling him to her.

Azriel coughed “You’re all going to have to share a room.”

“it’s quite alright, my crew and I have shared beds before.” There was a suggestive glint in her eyes. and blood rushed to his face faster than this girl could threaten and flirt in the same breath.

“I don’t believe I said anything about sharing beds.”

“Oh I know, but sometimes, shadowsinger, we must learn the difference between necessity and pleasure.” Azriel’s pupils dilated and his skin felt tight and hot.

Gwyn leaned in once again and teased, whispering, “Predictability is worth seeing you blush like a school girl.” She threw her fiery hair over her shoulder and walked away leaving him gaping like an idiot.

cassian and rhys walked out from his room and rhys said with a chuckle “she’s something alright.”

cassian looked at him with mock sincerity “promise me I’ll be the bridesmaid at your wedding”

“and will it be a double with you and that second of hers?”

He held his hands to his chest and tilted his head, “only in my dreams”

Rhys swung his arm around him laughing, “You’re pathetic.”

————————————————————————

5 days passed and every one of them was torturous. His crew at their wits end with hers. Apparently the two blondes were causing quite a bit of trouble. It had seemed one had wiped the floor with his entire crew when it came to the cards while the other was a bit of a thief, a petty thief.

His sharpshooter had made the mistake of whistling at Emerie, she tossed him into the ocean without so much as batting an eye. Thankfully they got him out in time and rest assured there were no more comments or touching.

He hadn’t seen Berdara much as she had been holed up in her room barely leaving beyond the occasional meal. Though every time she did grace his presence, she was sure to leave him flustered beyond relief. What about this girl make him loose all of his composure, he wasn’t sure. But avoidance was a useful tool.

Don’t think about it, don’t care azriel thought as he watched Cassian and Rhys spar on the deck of his ship. HIs two best fighters, facing off until suddenly rhys was knocked to the ground from behind. The culprit, the silver majesties second, Nesta.

There was a determined look in her eyes, cold ambition.

Cassian laughed, unfazed.

“my turn.” her voice was one of mock innocence, venom drenched in sugar.

“don’t be so eager sweatheart.”

“Eager to knock your arrogant ass down a few pegs”

“Ooh she’s feisty.” And with that Nesta attacked. She wasn’t graceful but she fought as if her life depended on it, a sure sign that at one point or another it did. She swerved and jabbed with a desperate urgency, one you could only learn on the streets. Cassian dodged and deflected, though he was working much harder than usual. It seemed he also had something to prove.

Azriel turned, knowing this fight would not be over any time soon, to find Berdara walking right towards him. “Nesta will not loose this fight.”

“funny, neither will cassian.”

Gwyneth gave him a serious look. “She does not loose, she never has and she never will.”

“hmm. It’s never too late to try new things.”

gwyn rolled her eyes before a glint appeared in them. “care for a rematch?”

“fists or swords?”

“Let’s spice it up, swords.”

“double or single?”

“A sword and a dagger.”

“Surrender or mercy.”

“Seeing you kneel to me will be sweet.” she paused. “Surrender.”

“You’re on.”

“Pirates oath?”

“A gentleman always plays fair.” She unsheathed her sword and dagger holding one in each hand and smirked. “too bad I am no mere man.” she lunged but azriel had been expecting that and side stepped pulling out his own sword and dagger.

Where nesta had been brute force and aggression, Gwyneth was all grace and speed. She fought with the efficiency of someone who trained with the queens guard themselves. It was like fighting a tornado, she was fast like lightning and when she struck she struck hard. Every move was beautiful and deadly, just like her.

————————————————————————

“We dock in 15 minutes.” Azriel called out to his crew.

“What no, we need to keep going.” Gwyn replied.

“What we need is to restock supplies so we don’t starve to death before we’re richer than the queen herself.”

she gave him a confused look, as if he was speaking a different language.

“We’ve been sailing non-stop for almost 2 weeks and we are out of supplies.”

gwyn mumbled something that sounded like “pathetic.”

As soon as Azriel dropped the anchor his entire crew rushed off the shadowsinger, desperate to be away from the insane women. With of course the exception of Cassian for he was leaning against the rails of the ship bothering Nesta while she was pointedly ignoring him.

“Hey, enough with the heart eyes we’ve got shit to do.” Azriel barked at Cassian who then frowned and sulked off the ship while nesta stared at him with her cold, blank expression. “You too sunshine. Let’s get moving.”

“Order me to do something again and I will cut off your limbs one by one and feed you them for breakfast.”

“I’m counting down the hours.” Azriel narrowly missed the dagger she threw at his head.

“Don’t call me sunshine.” and nesta walked off the ship, katanas at her hips glinting in the cold sun of the winter court. She looked right in her element.

Before he called these women insane but that was far too gentle of a statement, the females that had found their way onto Berdara’s ship were absolutely, completely batshit crazy.

Az was sure everyone was off his ship, everyone was accounted for and yet something was nagging at him.

A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to see the captain of the silver majesty sitting on the railing, one misstep and she would fall. Though there was no doubt in his mind that she would survive the deadly drop. This women seem to defy all odds, why not death? Her smile was wild and just a little bit mad as the wind swept and curled through her hair pushing it back from her face. As if it wanted nothing more than to be flowing through her her fiery locks that mirrored her spirit. Gwyn closed her eyes, feeling the breeze, the sun lighting up the freckles that spread across her cheeks. She was

“Are you done gawking?” she said without even opening her eyes.

horrible, she was absolutely unquestionably horrible. “If I may, what are you doing majesty?”

She turned toward him, in the sun the blue of her iris’s had a twinge of green as if she was born for the sea. “I am simply reminding myself why I left.” Her eyes gazed hungrily over the vast sea as though she saw a challenge, one she had to conquer. “who could resist all this?”

It was unlike her to offer such a raw statement with no ulterior motive and while it was entirely possible she did have one, Azriel believed her. Azriel believed her because he shared the exact feeling. The longing for freedom, the found solstice in constant change and motion, and the occasional guilt for leaving that ultimately fades because it will never not be worth it.

“I pity them.”

“Fools.”

“Utterly.” She offered no more as she hopped down from the railing.

They walked in comfortable silence as they both took in the beauty of the winter court. It was all ice and snow with a slight aura of loneliness.

Together the two captains arrived at the inn. It was cozy and warm and was placed separately from the rest of the town. His eyes shifted and he saw what had to have been the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. It was a bar. Thank fucking goodness. Azriel knew without a doubt that they all desperately needed some liquor.

In the bar he immediately found both their combined crew. A crowd of men and women had surrounded Rhys, hanging on every word he said while he soaked it up flirting to his hearts content. Azriel was going to have to give him a limit on the number of people he could fuck at once, this was getting ridiculous. Next he found Cassian, Tarquin and Viviane doing shots at the bar. But he noticed every time his glance shifted to a certain girl in the corner of the room. Nesta was in a booth with Emerie sipping whiskey, talking in low voices. Cressedia and Drakon were in a heated drinking game and-

Azriel knocked into a body he immediately recognized as Lucien and he held out his hand at once glaring.

“Hey captain.” He said cheerfully.

“empty now.”

The kid dumped a pile of jewels, wallets, and id’s in his hand.

Azriel smirked approvingly “get me a ruby, an Id of a man who could pass for the high lord of the winter court, and 500 more dollars.” Lucien nodded greedily and ran along. It had been a game between the two of them for Azriel to give him outlandish challenges to sharpen his skill as a thief.

But before Lucien could leave the bar every lamp extinguished and the bar turned quiet.

Strangers gasped and knives were drawn.

Moments later the lights reappeared and once his eyes readjusted he saw a women holding two daggers to the throats of Tarquin and Viviane. They struggled against her. But she just laughed and scolded. “No no no. shhhh” Before she looked up again.

“We need to have a chat.” every word was clipped and short. “Put your weapons away and these two might get to live to see another day.” It was an order, and a threat. Azriel didn’t take kindly to threats.

Gwyn looked to the 3 remaining who followed her and nodded at them to listen. He nodded to his own crew.

Nesta sneered but dropped her katanas to the ground. She opened her mouth to speak but Rhys beat her to it, pushing away the women he was flirting with as he drawled to the women in front of them.

“It’s been a long time Feyre, darling.”

tag list: @imsointobooks @meher-sumedha @himadrij @gwynrielsupremacy @ipsa-est-lux-plenae @flora-shadowshine @allthebooksunderthemoon @valkygwyn @bookish-isha @lattristantketchup

#gwynriel #gwynriel pirate au #feysand #nessian #emerie #gwyn berdara #azriel #nesta archeron #cassian #feyre archeron #rhysand #I finally gave it a name #if you find me on the edge we’ll jump together #and btw that’s supposed to be like villain lunatics in love and not suicide #just wanted to make that clear #I love this chapter tho #even if shes a little lengthy

59 notes · View notes

that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

My Love| Echo pt 3

Note: i'll edit this later, my mouth hurts from wisdom teeth removal but wanted to get it out for you.

Warnings: No real warnings, but there is a semi spicey scene and mentions of nudity towards the end, but doesnt go into too far of detail. And Echo's legs are cannoned a bit lower than tcw meaning yes Echos got an ass, but his legs and thighs stuff like that are still metal so

Reader: Male

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5 | 6

Master list

Y/n watched the boys try there food. They're faces lighting up as the room became silent, people busy digging into there food.

Y/n ate his own, his hand on Echo's thigh under the table, Echo's leg touching Y/n's.

"Ma'm this is way way! Better than rations!" Wrecker cheered.

"Im glad you like it so much, so tell me boys. What brought you over here?" Margie asked.

Hunter swallowed his food, "well we wanted to meet Echo's boyfriend Ma'm, we had no idea they had been dating for so long."

It was lucky for the group that talked they stayed together, near the head of the table where Margie sat, a small kid or two down from her.

"Echo's been nothing but a delight. To both my son and my family." Margie praised, "he's a good kid, Im assuming he gets it from his older brothers?"

"Oh...uh." Hunter spoke.

"He's older than us." Crosshair responded for the group.

"Oh?" She smiled, "you learn something new every day."

She looked at Y/n who nodded and smiled, "Yep."

"So where are you boys staying?" She asked.

Oh shit. Was the only thing Echo could think of. His brothers? Staying here?

"Oh we have our own place." Tech responded, "We live in a building complex called the Marauder."

Well that was a lie.

"Wait. Isn't that the name-" Y/n was cut off when Hunter kicked him.

"Ow.."

"Sorry. Foot must've slipped." Hunter responded his head slightly jolting towards the side, Echo was lost in his food, eating small spoon fulls, he was listening inteny even though he tried to cover his easedropping up.

"Oh! Yeah!" Y/n chuckled, Echo's frame slightly picking up.

"Oh. Nice place then?" Margie spoke.

"Oh..uh yeah. Decent..just a bit cramped but we don't mine." Hunter told, "we do alot of delivering off world too, so we work a decent amount...Echo! Echo here works the hardest. He may not be the strongest but he sure knows how to uh-"

"Pack a crate! And log the ports data. He's also a skilled mechanic!" Wrecker joined in.

What were they doing? Fake Prasing him? Why?

She smiled, "You boys seem like you like your jobs."

The boy's nodded, Y/n watched as Tech, Hunter and Wrecker hyped up Echo. The boy's trying to support Echo, "and you? Crosshair was it?"

Crosshair stopped from putting a spoonful in his mouth, "Oh. I.-" he looked at Echo infront of him, "I have a long way to go, a lot to learn."

"The youngest then?" She questioned.

"Yeah..." Crosshair responded bringing the food to his mouth.

"That's a sweet little bussniess you all have then," she congratulated, "We'd have to work with you one day, we have a business of our own."

"What's the bussniess if I may ask?" Tech questioned.

"Well our main bussniess is a food bussniess, you know selling buying, producing, but recently we've started a non-profit organization for battle droids."

"For battle droids? Clankers?" Wrecker asked.

"Thats what them clone boys call them," She smiled, "we basically rehab them, and send them back into the world, most as servants, translators. Small things."

"That's uh well..."

"I know I know. But here we believe that everything stands a chance." She contuined, "Echo has helped us alot on efficent repairs."

Echo nodded as he put a spoonful in his mouth.

"We have one that takes care of the animals in the small barn." Margie told, "Y/n! Have you showed them the animals dear?"

"No ma. This is only the second room they been in." Y/n informed.

"How dare you not give them a tour!" His mother spoke fake harshly, Y/n chuckling his mom soon following after.

"Oh mommy dearest I ask your humble apologies even though I don't deserve it. I suppose I'll sleep outside in the barn."

The two laughed as they smiled at one another.

"I'll show them around afterwords. Prepaired for your world to be rocked." He told the boys infront of him.

"Well I welcome you to the family boys. Its always a pleasure to have another few join the bunch!" She cheered.

"Thank you." Hunter spoke.

She smiled for a final time return to her food as did the others, small talk. Kids started asking to be excused, when excused they took there dishes and walked into the kitchen to clean there dishes and put them on the drying racks.

Echo finished before Y/n asking to be excused he got up with his dishes and went to clean them. Wrecker asked next, he being excused as he grabbed his own things and left.

Echo was along cleaning his dishes, his plate flat in the sink as he scrubbed the plate with one hand.

"Wanna hand?"

Echo turned his head, "oh. No. Im good."

Echo turned back towards his plates.

"Echo. Im. Im sorry." Wrecker apologized, "he's better than any lady you could date."

"Oh. Uh." Echo spoke, "thanks..."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Wrecker told him.

Echo frowned, "I. I know Wrecker. I shouldn't of yelled at you."

"We've should of waited for you to explain."

Putting his dishes on the drying rack he turned to Wrecker who stood next to him, Wrecker's dishes sat on the counter patiently waiting for his turn.

"It's. Okay." Echo responded, "I, I forgive you, at the end of the day. I'm the only one dating him. Right?"

Wrecker smiled, "So. We're okay?"

Echo nodded, quickly being picked up in a hug as he chuckled, patting Wrecker's shoulder.

"Now do your dishes before Y/n's mom cuts your head off." Echo joked waving smally to him.

Echo walked back out, going down the hall and too the living room, the room filled with silence as he collected the cups from eariler.

Bent over setting all the cups down accordingly there was a whistle, a soft one, not loud enough for anyone to hear if they weren't in the room.

"Would you look at that ass." Y/n spoke, Echo standing straight as he turned around, "aren't you a gifted fellow?"

Echo chuckled, "You should be careful what you say in here."

It was Y/n's turn to chuckle.

"Why's that?"

"Why do you think?" Echo questioned as he watched Y/n walk forward, grabbing his hips and pulling Echo closer.

"All I do is tell the truth," Y/n smiled.

Echo's arms drapped on Y/n's shoulder's, Y/n holding his hips.

"Now this is something we shouldn't be doing in here." Y/n teased.

Echo smiled, "One kiss never hurt anyone?"

"Oh?"

Y/n smiled, leaning down kissing Echo. His hand running through Y/n's hair, Y/n pulled away from Echo, foreheads resting on one another.

"I love you." Y/n told him.

"I love you too." Echo smiled.

Y/n pulled him into a short kiss, "You wanna sit on my lap again baby?"

"Gladly-" Echo was cut off again with a kiss, a chuckle filling his mouth from Y/n.

"Get a damn room!"

Y/n pulled away, glaring at the teen.

"Well Enzo. I am in a room! So get out of it!" Y/n argued, Echo's head in Y/n's shoulder.

"Well mom wants you to give those guys a tour." Enzo responded.

"Alright." Y/n spoke, turning back to Echo, "Later baby."

Echo was give a kiss on the lips, Y/n grabbed the tray.

"I can do that," Echo spoke stopping Y/n.

"How about you can do this one day, when we have our own home." Y/n spoke, "you know when we're married and have a little farm."

Echo flushed deeply, a farm? With him and Y/n all by themselves? Sounded...sounded. amazing.

Y/n pulled away from him tray in hand, "come on let's give that tour."

Echo followed Y/n dropping off the tray and then taking the boys around, introducing them to all the kids, big, medium small to twilek, zabrack, human to torguata. All of diffrent personalities. Some reading on there bed, some working out, some listening to music, others playing with dolls and action figures.

And then there was his room, nothing special, Echo and his favorite record in sitting still as the song had finished, a box of records tucked under the small table the record player sat on. The sheets a dark purple his pillow cases a matching dark blue a window at the far end.

"Please come in." Y/n responded offering them to come in and look around.

They filed in, the room fitting all them comfortably.

"It's quiet simple," Tech explained, "Your personality is a bit more bubbly so I was expecting something wild."

"Like that?" Crosshair questioned.

"Like what?" Tech responded turning around to face the wall behind them.

The wall was filled with photos, drawings and dried flowers, a vintage theme, branching off into its sub groups.

"There it is." Tech repsonded adjusting his glasses.

"Please feel free to look around." Y/n responded.

Crosshair stood next to Wrecker as they looked at the photos.

"Hey! It's Echo! Look!" Wrecker cheered as Crosshair peered over, the photo of Echo asleep on the couch, kids knocked out with him, "and Kamino!"

"How's you get a picture of Kamino?" Hunter questioned now also looking at the photos.

"Echo here got it for me." Y/n smiled as Echo rubbed the back of his head, "Its not just my memories up there- Hey! Lets get our own photo up there!"

Y/n got up going over to his desk as he lifted the top up pulling the old porloroid out.

"Echo." Crosshair spoke as the clone came over, "wanna explain this one?"

Echo looked at the photo, he clearly knocked out in Y/n's bed, his back bare hinting towards what had happened before hand, the blanket covering to his mid back and down, his arms tucked under a pillow permentatly fluffing it up as his cheek was baired into it.

"Not bad." Crosshair spoke nudging his brother, he was trying.

"Here is is new film and all." Y/n smiled going towards the group, "Come on! Gather around."

Y/n smiled as the group akwardly grouped together infront of the window. Looking at the group he rushed over, pushing them closer together.

"It'll be on a timer so I only have a few seconds." Y/n told them walking back over, "ready?"

"Uh sure?"

Y/n quickly pushed the button rushing over to the group, he quickly stood next to Echo. There was a click as Y/n rushed back over. The photo coming out the bottom as Tech rushed over intrested.

"Oh nice its comin through already." Y/n smiled, soon waving the square around as he walked over to his desk picking out a red and black thumb tack.

"Hmm..." y/n spoke rushing over to the wall looking around, "hah! Echo come here! Help me put this up."

Echo walked over as the boys watched him hand Echo the image and tack.

"See right there." Y/n pointed a spot above the door, dead center towards the ceiling.

"We'll move this one." Y/n said pulling up an old photo besides the light switch "up there."

Handing Echo the old photo they swapped Y/n pinning the new one with the group with a smile.

"Ready?"

"Yeah-"

Echo was grabbed by the legs, Y/n picking him up as Y/n grabbed the back off his thighs.

"A bit higher." Echo spoke as Y/n pulled his arms back, tight on Echo's thighs he pushed the clone upward, his thighs now trapping Y/n's face as Y/n's hands vanished behind Echo's kama skirt.

"Got it?" Y/n asked his chin resting at Echo's belt.

"Yeah." Echo spoke, his face red as he cleared his throat.

"Ready?'

"No- Y/n-" He spoke as Y/n laughed walking towards his bed, "Y/n! Y/n! I'll kill you don't- Ah!-"

Y/n tossed the trooper on the bed he bouncing as he let out a grunt, Y/n only chuckled turning back towards the boys, "come on i'll show you that barn they were talking about."

Y/n lead the boys along to the backyard, showing them the small barn his father worked on fixing a small animals leg, waving a B-1 droid showed up in a happy matter the others ready to fight.

"Master Y/n!"

"Please Y/n is fine B." Y/n smiled, "Boys this is B. He helps with the animals."

With an akward introduction the batchers kept there distance, but with the end of the small barn came the end of the tour. It now late in the hours of the day as the boys made there way our. Excusing themselves for the night.

"You'll have to come back." Y/n smiled.

"If its okay with Echo and your mother. " Hunter spoke, "and you of course."

"We'd be delighted to have you again." Y/n smiled, "Please. Come anytime with Echo. Or by yourselves. We're open doors."

Hunter nodded, the batch saying there goodbyes and thanks once more. They started there way away from the home, Tech staying back, "I suppose not all regs are regular after all. And that's good."

With his last comment Tech rushed to join the others.

Echo stayed behind with Y/n who smiled as the boys vanished.

"Now. That we're. Alone." Y/n teased.

"Alone? Really in this house?" Echo teased back.

Y/n chuckled, "as alone as we can be."

Echo smiled as Y/n closed the door.

"I'll go make some more milk and honey, you. Go get ready to cuddle." Y/n ordered playfully.

"Thats something I can do."

Him and Y/n unfortunately went separate ways, Y/n cleaning the cups and pot setting them to dry as one of the old B-1 droids would put the mass of dishes away during the night.

He pulled out another pot, putting it on the stove filled with the sweet liquid he wipped the tray clean, putting a fresh set of cookies on a small plate and two cups. Just in time as the pot started to whistle, pulling it off the stove he turned the gas off and went to his room.

Holding the tray in one hand he opened his door, "hey hope you didn't miss me too..."

Y/n's frame filling the door way, but froze seeing Echo's bare back facing him, a blanket sat high waisted on him as Y/n quickly stepped in, quiet with his steps he locked the door behind him, Echo now standing up and facing Y/n the blanket still around his waist.

"I uh..." Echo responded with a flush, "thought...you might like this first..."

Y/n flushed as Echo dropped the blanket, setting the tray on the nearest surface big enough, the floor flush against the wall besides the door, he walked over, kicking his shoes off in the process.

"Baby you have no idea how much I like this." Y/n told him, Echo's gaze away.

Maker. Y/n took his thumb to Echo's chin, Y/n's soft skin lightly tapping up Echo's chin to look up at him. Holding Echo's chin in place with his thumb and index finger Y/n smiled smally, his eyes filled with love for the pale male infront of him.

"Y/n. I..." Echo trailed off.

"Shh..." Y/n hushed softly, his thumb running down Echo's lip and back to his chin, "You don't have to say anything..."

Echo raised on his toes, leaning up to kiss Y/n, Y/n leaned down, the first kiss was almost shy, there lips only pressing together in sweet presence of one another. The small kiss leaving Echo breathless. They pulled away shortly. Another one soon be initiated, Y/n nudging Echo to sit down softly, he following Echo's movements, Y/n sitting besides him, the kissing barely any more intense, Echo swinging a leg over Y/n's straddling the taller male.

Y/n held the small of Echo's back, the two's makeout session growing in heat as Y/n's hands running down Echo's back and to his ass, where he gladly let his hands rest of Echo's warm skin while they kissed.

It was soon for breathe they pulled away, Y/n attaching himself to Echo's neck. Echo's hand through Y/n's hair as he hummed against Echo's pale skin, earing a soft mewel.

"Y/n...take me...take me away..." Echo whispered, Y/n laying Echo down on his back, his lips never movinv from Echo's shoulder.

"Take me away...Y/n..." Echo meweled softly, the words spilling from Echo's vocal cords once again.

Y/n stopped momentarily to lean up into Echo's ear, "only if I can come along baby..."

The night was filled with passion, hair being pulled in pleasure, moans dripping off each others lips, ripped from there vocal cords in call for the other one. Pleads drawn from the bottom as Echo left a few new scratch marks on Y/n's back, along with a line of hickeys following Y/n's collar blade to sholder. Y/n did the same, leaving hickies along Echo's body, where skin met metal.

Echo laid flat on his stomach now, his head turned towards Y/n. Y/n held a stupid large smile on his face, his finger's interlaced with Echo's.

"That was somethin else babe." Y/n told him softly, "Parched after the time of your life?"

Echo chuckled as Y/n pulled himself up, and out of bed. Echo receiving a pleasent veiw of Y/n's behind with one side having present marks, they currently defined and fresh, marks both darker and lighter spotted Y/n's back, mostly towards his shoulder and nape of his neck.

Echo watched Y/n pick up the tray and make his way back to the bed setting it on the nightstand, climbing back in the covers as Echo nuzzle up to Y/n.

"Clingy now are we? Let me pour you a cup atleast." Y/n chuckled.

Pouring them both cups Echo was handed one cold cup, "Thanks."

"Mhmm," Y/n acknowledged the two cuddled up, "shame its cold. Must sat for too long, needy thing arent you?"

Echo flustered, but took a risk himself, "Could still be longer."

"Oh? And what are you gonna do that I haven't done to you?" Y/n teased, Echo took a heavy drink, hoping it would bring him energy later taking Y/n's he sat it on the nightstand next to his own side of the bed.

Echo pushed Y/n onto the bed flat, the covers still hiding Y/n's lower half.

"I haven't rode you." Echo told boldly.

Y/n smirked up at him, "You're right you haven't,"

Echo's leg's swinging over Y/n, "Think you can handle me?" Echo questioned.

Y/n chuckled, "Baby you have no idea what I'd endure for you." Y/n sat up, holding Echo's face with a hand.

"Lets see then." Echo responded Y/n biting his lip as he pushed the covers down with a foot.

Y/n was pulled into a kiss, his hands running up and down Echo's back as Echo pushed him to the bed, the kiss never breaking.

Read the Next Part here if you like smut or stay generally sfw here

#star wars #the bad batch #sw: tbb #star wars: the bad batch #echo tbb #tbb echo #echo x male reader #star wars echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch echo #echo the bad batch #x male reader #lil smutty my bad #oof #i liked how this turned out

54 notes · View notes