#i was gonna write a completely different pairing but ONCE AGAIN UGH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letsloveimagines · 4 years

Photo

Title: Crush

Pairing: Corpse Husband x fem!youtuber!reader

Collab with: @the-winter-sxldier-posts

Requested by: @unicornblood4ever

Request: Hi I just saw your request post for Corpse, so if you're still taking requests I have one. The reader have been on a losing streak, and Corpse tries to help. But accidentally rats himself out as the second imposter. With fluff if possible, of course only if you have time to write and everything.

Word Count: 3963

Warnings: a little angts and fluff, i guess?

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

Part II: Here

♦⋅☆⋅♦

Y/N sat down at her gaming setup, she was getting ready to start a stream she had been invited by her friend Felix (aka Pewdiepie) to play among us with him, and some other friends. She made sure everything was in order before starting it. She had been doing this for so long, but each time it felt like the first, and there was always that little chill in her belly indicating she was nervous.

She got onto her twitter quickly, just to let people know she was live in case they didn't get the notification about it. As people started coming in, Y/N smiled at the camera. “Hey guys, welcome to the stream.” She read one of the comments from chat asking what she was gonna be playing on stream today. “Today we are streaming some “Among Us’ with some friends, and I am getting to who they are before you guys spam it in chat. I’m going to be playing with Corpse, Sykkuno, Rae, Felix, Seán, Lily, Toast, Poki and Leslie.”

She joined the discord call, as the game loaded up. Y/N had her facecam in the middle on the bottom screen to make sure that she wouldn’t leak the code, once Felix sent it to the discord. Once the code was entered they were in the lobby and Y/N, went to the little mini computer in the game to customize her astronaut, and as always she was quick to pick the white colored one with the pink flower on her helmet. “Hey guys.” Y/N said to her friends in discord with a smile. Felix was the first to speak “Y/N finally you’re here!” She and everyone else laughed as he kept talking, excitedly. “We are still waiting for Corpse and Seán to join before we start, they’ll be here in a minute.” Everyone had said their hellos to Y/N as Seán joined the discord call and the game, followed shortly by Corpse. “Hey, Seán, Corpse.” “Hey, Y/N.” “Whaddup baby.” They both said at the same time making everyone laugh once more, as they all had their characters customized. Y/N’s face turned a few shades of red at what Corpse had said, and her chat was quick to pick up on it. “That is everyone, we are starting the game now.” She muted her mic after Felix had started the game and the black screen with the red astronaut, said shhhhh. Then her screen read ‘Crewmate, there are 2 imposters among us.’

She blew out a breath talking to the chat. “At least we can warm up as a crewmate this round.”

But…

It didn't take much longer for her to get killed, which made her swear. She knew she couldn't trust Felix but she did anyway, and he literally stabbed her in the back… What a traitor.

♦⋅☆⋅♦

The time passed faster than it should have, or at least that’s what it seemed to the group of friends who were just having fun.

Y/N had now been streaming for an hour, and she was on a major losing streak. She either got crewmate, or voted out first as imposter because she was a bad liar. Or when that didn't happen, she was one of the first ones to be killed, and had to spend the entire game floating from one side of the ship to the other as a little white ghost, completing tasks for her team to win. To be honest, she was already a little irritated about that. They were now in the lobby talking to each other while waiting to start the next game. Y/N's nostrils were flared with frustration after another round of failure at being an imposter. She sighed, unmuting her mic."I just wanted to say that in all of these rounds I must have played a full 8 seconds! Like come on, what's wrong with me today!?"

That phrase was enough to make the others burst out laughing, including her chat. The comments came and went so fast, sliding on the screen on her right side, that she could barely keep up.

Sykkuno, like the blessed and pure angel he was, replied amid laughter: "Don't worry, you're just on a bad streak. Better luck next time."

"Yeah, I guess." She answered while moving her mini white astronaut in circles, being quickly accompanied by the black astronaut with horns on his helmet. Y/N smiled at that.

"Stop talking guys, I'll start the new round now." Pewds, who was the host, almost screamed at them.

Y/N cracked her neck and her fingers preparing herself.

"Stay with me this time Y/N, and I'll protect you." A deep voice was heard through her headphones, causing a shiver to go all the way down her spine.

"Oh!" She exclaimed surprised, looking at her chat that was going insane with everyone saying how cute that was. "Thank you, Corpse, let's do that."

"No problem." She could hear the smile in his voice.

The game was started and the black screen with the red astronaut, said shhhhh. Then her screen read IMPOSTER.

Y/N quickly muted her mic, as soon as she stopped listening to her friends speak. "Okay, I wasn't expecting that." She commented to her chat, very surprised, because next to her doll was Corpse's own little character. "Well, maybe my luck is changing. Everyone heard that Corpse and I were going to be together, so at least now we have an alibi if anyone suspects us." Corpse danced around Y/N, suggesting she follow him, and immediately she did. They both went through the ship as he was looking for innocent astronauts for them to murder. They ended up in medbay first, where Y/N faked her samples task, with Corpse watching over her and making sure that no one would find their behavior suspicious.

And, oh, how her luck seemed to have increased when Felix walked in. Y/N immediately pulled up the sabotage map and locked the medbay doors, and Corpse was quick to kill him. That made the girl laugh hard, yelling out loud. "That was just karma having its way!"

Then both vented out as the doors were still locked.

Y/N smiled talking to the chat. “Pewds is dead, next if the opportunity arises we need to get Seán. They are the two that always sus me out even when I’m a crewmate.” She went back to the game as they vented into electrical, since nobody was there presently. They both faked tasks in electrical, Y/N going first with Corpse watching her back. To her surprise, Seán walked in all alone and right as she was going to get her first kill, when Felix’s body was reported. She rolled her eyes. “Damn, so close to getting them both.” She said to her fans as she unmuted the mic, and saw that Rae was the one that found Pewds.

“Where is the body?” Y/N questioned trying to keep her voice level and calm, to not give herself away. “Pewds is dead in medbay.” Was the answer she got from the other girl. “Y/N and I were in Electrical with Seán.” Corpse said, trying to immediately shift suspicion off of the two of them. “They were already there when I entered the room, however. I don't know where they came from before, though."

"We came in through storage, after Y/N and I both did the trash chute, Y/N stopped at the gas can and then we came to the electrical to do our tasks."

Y/N quickly muted herself. "God, Corpse is gonna carry us this round, I can already feel it…I just want one kill and that is Seán, Corpse can kill everyone else... I just want to kill Seán!" She unmuted again as the friends decided that they didn't have enough information to vote anyone, so they skipped and no one was ejected.

Corpse danced around again for Y/N to follow him and she did. This time they went through weapons. Y/N faked the task against the wall while Corpse faked one as well. Y/N brought up the sabotage map while they waited on the kill cool down to end.

Y/N sabotaged the lights, and the two imposters ran over there to turn them on as a way not to give anything that made them suspicious.

"Kill someone, don't wait for Corpse." Y/N read the comments, confused. "I don't know guys, are you sure? Today I haven't won any games as an imposter, so I don't want to give any reasons to make my team lose.” Looking back at the screen of the computer, she smiled seeing that the two little astronauts were touching each other, eye to eye, in what would probably be a strange little kiss. "Awww guys, look! Corpse just kissed me, this is too cute to handle."

But there was something that the fans did not fail to notice, and were quick to tell her that.

User: She's blushing!

User: This is so cute, I'm dying.

User: UGH, I ship them together so much!

"Oh, shut up y’all." She said with her face on fire, clearing her throat trying to make her voice normal again. However, the pink tone that painted her cheeks did not want to disappear, getting worse and worse as she thought about it. “Okay, as much as I don't like it, I'm going to do what you said. I’m sorry, Corpse." And then she quickly ran away, going to another path separated from Corpse, looking for someone alone that she could kill.

Hopefully it would be Seán.Y/n would be the first to agree that she was a little obsessed with getting her revenge. But could you blame her? Seán and Felix were almost always the reason she got voted out or killed first.

She went around the map, and on the navigation she found Lily alone. "Oh oh, poor Lily, but I need to do this." She was quick to press the button, kill and enter the vent, leaving Lily's body cut in half behind.

"Quickly, I need to find someone to be my alibi! Where's Corpse?" She came out of a different vent, running and seeing Rae nearby, quickly joining her. It didn't take long before someone reported the body. "Oh no, I'm sweating already."

“Lily’s body was in navigation.” Leslie said.

“And Toast is dead too, so it was a double kill this round.”

"Where have you been, Leslie?" Corpse asked with such a deep and calm voice that if Y/N were not the other imposter, she would think he was innocent. “I was with Sykkuno in security, looking at the cameras.”

“Yes, I was with him.” The mentioned boy said.

“Well, I was with Poki in medbay but I needed to do the asteroids in weapons. So, when I finished in weapons I went down, and found the body." Leslie replied.

"That seems a little sus to me, to be honest."

"Yeah, seems pretty sus to me too." Y/N repeated after Corpse, trying to help.

"Okay, wait a minute." Rae began, suspiciously. "I was with Y/N for a while because we met in storage, but she came from the right side of the map, I saw it."

"Explain yourself, Y/N."

'Oh no. Busted.' Thought the girl nervously looking at the camera. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and replied as calmly as she could: "Well, yes it's true, but I was in comms uploading. When I finished I left and that's when I found Rae in storage."

"It's her!" Seán accused.

"Definitely."

"What!?" Y/N asked shocked. "No, I'm not the imposter guys, I swear!"

"Y/N, stop, it makes perfect sense. I'm voting." She rolled her eyes, that is exactly why she wanted to kill Seán.

It was then that Corpse interrupted: "It couldn't have been her, she was with me."

'What?' Y/N asked herself, 'No, I wasn’t. What is he doing?'

"But... You said you were with Sykkuno."

"I... Yeah, but before that I was with her in Comms, but I left to go to the Security."

"And what path did you take?" Rae questioned.

"I went through storage, then electrical and I went up."

"That’s impossible because I went down the left side, and went through electrical and I didn't see you."

"They’re both the imposters, oh my god." Was Seáns revelation.

"No, we are not. What he said is true!" Y/N tried to defend.

"I'm going to vote Corpse this time just for his audacity!" Rae exclaimed excitedly. "Then we vote for Y/N!"

"What!?" Corpse said shocked. "No...!"

But it was too late, and quickly his little bean body flew off the ship. ‘Corpse was ejected.’

The girl could do nothing more than gawk at the computer screen, still shocked by what had happened. "No!" She said when she muted the microphone. "The game is already lost. What can I do?" She questioned, guilty.

User: Noooo! Poor Corpse.

User: He was defending her :(

User: It's her fault that they found out he was the other imposter.

Guilt weighed on Y/N's heart and she felt saddened. Why did she have to ruin everything? "I know, I'll apologize to him when I can." She whispered to the chat, quietly, running around with her character confusedly. "What do I do now? Do I kill someone or do I play innocent?"

But at that time a meeting was called by Seán who was camped by the emergency button, and everyone got together to speak.

"Yes?"

"Well, we already know who the other imposter is. Are we going to vote her out or not?" He said laughing.

"Guys, please don't, it’s not me."

"Sorry Y/N, but you're the only one sus right now."

"What about Leslie?” Y/N tried. “She left Poki in medbay, she could have gone to navigation, killed Lily, self-reported and said she was in weapons!"

"No, don't believe her!" Leslie shouted. “She’s lying.”

"I know it's Y/N, I'm going to vote for her!"

And one by one everyone voted, and the game was over.

"Good job guys, we did it." The others celebrated while the girl almost pouted.

"What happened, Corpse? I’ve never seen you like that, well, playing so badly I mean." Sykkuno questioned his friend timidly.

There was silence from Corpse for a moment, before he simply said. "I don’t know.”

Swallowing hard, Y/N spoke softly. "Corpse?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Ehh, don't be. That's alright."

But that was not enough to erase her guilt. "You know Seán this is exactly why I was gonna kill you in the electrical, before Rae found Felix's body. You always sus me out even when I’m innocent."

“But you were the imposter this time!”

After a new game where she quickly died (Seán was the one who broke her neck and left her body in admin), the girl was quick to open Discord and send a message to the deep-voiced boy, who as much - as she didn't want to admit it, even more to herself - was her crush.

Y/N: I’m so sorry I got you voted out, honestly, I feel so bad about it. I’m such a bad imposter.

CORPSE: Y/N, It’s fine, really. There’s no need for you to feel bad about it ♥.

This put a smile on the girl's face again, and her chat was quick to question what was going on. She shrugged her shoulders and gave no further answer, Y/N returned to concentrating on the game, with the corner of her lips lifted in a half smile that she couldn’t control.

♦⋅☆⋅♦

Time quickly passed full of fun for the ten friends, and the thousands of people who watched them. Y/N didn't win any of the rounds, but she didn't care about it anymore. After another hour of playing she decided to say goodbye and finish the stream, feeling the tiredness dominating her. She ate something and took a long and relaxing bath, which eased her aching muscles, and was already in her fluffy blue pajama pants, and was getting ready to go to bed when her phone rang.

Picking it up from the nightstand, she looked at the screen and gasped in surprise seeing who was facetiming her. A shiver ran down her spine. Shaking from head to toe, with her heart pounding, she quickly ran her hand through her hair making sure she was at least minimally presentable, before she answered it, saying nervously, "Hey, Corpse, is everything okay?"

The screen came to life, with her tiny image in the corner and the completely black screen dominating it. Of course he wouldn't turn on the camera, nor did she want him to do it if he didn't feel comfortable. It was already surprising that he actually called, since he has never done that before, and that was what made her even more nervous.

"I just wanted to check on you." His voice came through the phone.

That made her face heat up a little. She was thankful that the only light she had on was the lamp on her nightstand and he couldn’t see how red her face got.

"Cute pajamas by the way." He said while laughing a little bit, provoking her.

"Well, I would say the same thing, but I can't see anything." Y/N provoked back.

There was a comfortable silence after that, a silence that the two of them seemed afraid to try to break. The girl laid down on her bed, curled up under her warm sheets, and looked at the black screen kindly, with her head resting on the pillow.

"So-"

"I-" They both said at the same time, and immediately stopped talking when they realized that. “Go ahead-” “You first-” they once again said at the exact same time.

Y/N tried to speak. She really tried. She was so prepared to tell him the truth, to tell him how much she was into him, that she was in fact in love with him… She was prepared to say that meeting him, and having him in her life for the past few months was one of the best things that ever happened to her. Y/N was determined to speak, but when she tried, nothing came out. She stood there, opening and closing her mouth, sighing with a frown on her face.

"What's up?" Corpse asked seeing that, with concern in his voice.

"Nothing."

"Y/N, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know that." And she really did, Corpse was a good friend, an excellent friend who was always there for her... And that was exactly what she was afraid to ruin with her confession. "You are able to make me so nervous sometimes, even when I think I'm feeling brave."

"Oh, yeah?" He asked, and she could practically see his smile, even though she has never actually seen it. She was in love with a faceless man and she had no idea how to tell him that.

"Oh, shut up."

He laughed deeply for a long time, and that was enough to make her smile. Finally he stopped and said quietly, almost timidly. "I think what you wanted to say is exactly what I want to tell you."

Impossible, Y/N thought with a sad smile on her lips. I want to tell you how much I love you but… how could I? And who could ever love me?

"No, believe me, it isn't." “And how do you know it isn’t?” Y/N bit her lip a little unsure of how to answer him without revealing her feelings for him. “I-” But she cuts herself off, not having the courage to actually say the words. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the groan that came out of her mouth, at how much a coward she was being, but she mumbled out her response that was still muffled. “I just know.”

“What was that?” All he had heard were incoherent sounds.. She sighed, removing her face from the pillow not wanting to repeat what she had said, to save herself the rejection, since he couldn’t possibly feel the same way that she did about him.

“Are you really not going to tell me?” His voice broke through her thoughts. She sighed, trying to get away from the internal battle going on in her mind. “Y/N?” He spoke once again, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“If I say it... everything is gonna be ruined and weird for us, and I don’t want that. Your friendship is so important to me, you're my best friend.” She ran a hand down her face, furious with herself. “How do you know that, if you don’t say it?”

“Because I just do, okay?” Why couldn't he just let it go? "I-" She tried to say it out loud, once more. C'mon Y/N, just say it. "I gotta go!" She said quickly tried to end the call, but he wouldn't let her.

"No!" He screamed out sharply, taking her by surprise and then he did something she never thought he would do.

The screen, which was previously completely dark, lit up and his face finally appeared for the girl who loved him to see. Y/N sighed in shock, admiring all his features, from his ivory-white skin to his dark curly hair.

"I have a crush on you too." He confessed quietly, with a soft pink tinge appearing on his cheeks.

Did he just...? Oh my god!

There was silence again, but this time it was a silence that had become tense and terrifying for both of them. Corpse was nervous waiting for her to say something, and she could tell. His mouth was pressed in a thin line, he didn't seem able to face her as his gaze traveled anywhere but to her, and he fidgeted immensely, touching everything within reach from the rings - that she saw he had on his fingers - to the chain necklace he had around his neck.

"Oh." She sighed softly, not knowing what to say.

He looked at her then, apprehensive and almost ashamed. "Ugly, I know."

"No!" Y/N was quick to interrupt. "You are incredibly handsome just… just as I always imagined." The girl managed to see a small smile appear on his lips as he blushed deeply.

"I..."

"I’m in love with you too." She confessed, finally without fear. It felt like weight lifted off her to finally get it out in the open between the two of them.

Corpse’s eyes went wide, completely shocked but so, so happy. A huge smile full of shiny teeth on his face, as he focused all of his attention on Y/N. "You are?"

"Yes." She said blushing and smiling intensely as she snuggled up in the blankets, her face almost hidden when she looked at him dreamily.

"I-" He cleared his throat. "Good."

"Good."

"Great."

"Great!"

They burst out laughing, their voices mixing in hamornia. The two looked each other in the eye, separated by a mobile phone screen, separated by kilometers and kilometers... but even with everything that separated them, the world was not able to stop them from falling in love with each other.

"What do we do now?" He questioned.

"Well..." Y/N started. "We'll have to see, won't we? Why don't you start by giving me your address?"

Corpse smiled provocatively, his beautiful eyes shining maliciously. "Of course... But be careful now baby, the devil’s got his eyes on you."

Y/N laughed completely in love.

"Oh, shut up."

♦⋅☆⋅♦ Tag List: @breathygasps

#corpse husband #Corpse Husband Fandom #Corpse Fandom #corpse fanfiction #fanfiction #imagines #one-shot #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband oneshot #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

To Forget.

Summary: Buck has a nightmare and just wants to forget about it, of course with the help of his girlfriend.

Warning/content: (18+), suggestive content ahead. Biting, slight degration, rough sex, mentions of PTSD but Bucky is a soft little angel towards the end. P in V, oral (female receiving)

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I don't ever write smut, so this kinda sucks but also took me 2 weeks to write 😡

He's curled on the floor, chest heaving as he takes a deep gulp. Eyes ablaze but wide with sadness, fear of the demons who drown him every night he closes his eyes.

The smallest step has his head snapping in your direction, hand reaching out as if he was looking for something to protect himself with but with a few clicks and gears turning the vibranium hand unclenches a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

"Hi baby." His heart is still pounding, mind still racing as he remembers the reason he's in this predicament. Faces of those he's wrong, guilty he's the reason families mourn and children go without father's. Bucky opens his arms, wanting you close, wants the feeling of anxiety and guilt to go away.

Without hesitation you sink down next to him, finding a home between his arms, chest warm and comforting.

"It's alright Buck, I'm here." Lifting your head to face him, petting his hair as you press a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are sad, glossy with unshed tears, chest irratic against your own. "I'm here."

A hand against his chest reminds him to breath, taking deep breaths out his nose to ease the burning chest. "You have to start waking me up when you move off the bed, don't like you sleeping out here by yourself."

"You look so peaceful, it would be a crime too."

A warm, soft hand glides up the bare skin of your inner thigh, skillful and unforgiving as it pushes deeper and deeper underneath the hem of the shirt. Bucky's eyes flicker to your own, sad and wild but also, filled with an aching hunger felt deep inside the pit of his stomach. The blues mixed with a sense of panic but layered with cloudy lust. "Wanna forget sweetheart."

The words mean nothing as a finger presses against the bundle of nerves covered by your panties, which momentarily surprises and makes your jump, warm lips press against the junction of where your neck and collar bone joint. "Help me forget?"

It's hard denying such a request especially feeling the cushioning of his bottom lip follow the line of your collar bone with wet, sloppy kisses. He's sucking at the skin, nibbling and paining it purple in his wake, fingers now running over the hem of the black, lace panties. His other hand reaches over, vibranium knotting into your hair, cupping the back of your head to angle your face towards his, it's not soft - rough and meaningful but just enough to make your heart pound and between your legs wet.

Longing eyes as he bites his swollen lips, staring at each other for an eternity - or that's what it feels like. The tension is high, his hardness heavy on your inner thigh as he moves closer, coolness of dog tags felt through the thin shirt, the contact hardening your nipples. Eyes dark are feral and when you dare look away - down at where he throbs against you, he harshly yanks at your hair. "Eyes on me, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten my answer yet."

"Yes, yes, yes." That's all he needs as a tongue wets the skin of your neck, a smooth trail of saliva making your neck his. Flesh hand reaches between, squeezing your tit softly, rubbing it through the shirt and feeling it harden.

Clearly frustrated, his fingers pull at the hem of the shirt with a growl, soon enough it's up and over thrown across the room with little regard. Hands squeeze every round piece of flesh, gentle but meaningful as lips bruise your skin.

His chest flushes against your own, now with heavy breaths for an entirely different reason. Frustrated hands find the barrier between his hand and your aching arousal, face mirroring the irritation because of it as two hands push into hem before shredding them with little regards.

You barely have time to gasp as his fingers fill you, smooth kisses presses against the line of your stomach as fingers slide out before curling up into the spot that makes you cry.

He's relentless, at first it's too much, trying to move up the bed from the source but he holds you still, grounds you underneath him until you're soaking his hand, whining out for him.

"More, more, please." At this point you don't know what you're begging for, something snaps inside you. Warm and filled with a tingle that numbs both legs but between his fingers which move in and out at an unforgiving pace you can't feel a thing.

It's impossible to form words as he hits a spot so deep you cry out.

"Look at you.." He teases but hard eyes are anything but playful, they're cruel and condescending and never leave your own. The way he talks is so filthy, degrading but love every word that falls from his mouth. "All dumb, can't even speak. Am I making you dumb, sweet girl?"

The words get stuck in your throat again, the feeling on his finger hit deeper and deeper as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Eyes feel heavy, half way closing as walls flutter around his scissoring digits. "Gonna come for me, honey?"

"Mmmm!" Is all you can manage as a pair of teeth sink into your inner thigh, it doesn't break the skin but will leave a mark that will last days.

"Yes you are, look at you. I want it, give it to me." A tongue runs out to roll over the burning skin, soothing it with wet saliva and a few kisses as his fingers milk you through. "There it is, you're gorgeous, baby."

It happens so fast, white, hot pleasure that temporarily blinds you. A dark bliss with shaky thighs, they only thing that pulls you back is the feeling of lips against your inner thighs and clicking of plates and shifting of gears as cool vibranium pets your hair, skimming over your hair line. "You with me, bunny?"

A weak nod but that's all he needs before a long stride of his tongue catches a taste of your cum, squealing at the surprise and sensativity of post orgasm. "Bu- Buck -."

You can't form words once again and he can care less. He's ruthless, nibbling at the over-sensative bundle of nerves, licking and moaning with the slightest shift of his own hips

Hands fall to feel the smooth hair, stands a little longer on top fill into the gasps of your fingers, pulling harder- harder then you usually would but Bucky doesn't seem to mind.

"Buck - ugh!" The sounds are filthy, wet and sloppy as one particularly hard pull of hair muffles a moan that vibrates your whole lower half, legs start to shake as thighs tighten and cup his ears.

He's putting his all and everything into you, drunk on the feeling and taste as everything else in his broken mind disappears - he's tense, angry but only filled with thoughts of you, you, you.

For the second time within only minutes of each other you cum, Bucky doesn't dare move, taste every single drop he could manage before pulling away. Arousal smeared across his face as he sits on his knees between open legs using the back of his hand to wipe whatever he could manage.

The loud announcers of the soccer match on the television is the only sound next to the heavy breathing, breasts moving with every breath and Bucky can't look away. Metal fingers cool your nipple, squeezing and pinching as you let out a gasp and cower from the touch. The hand fingers your chin, clicking as it curls against the chin and pulling eyes to his open.

He doesn't bother with words, instead closes the gap between both of you. Taste of yourself tangy on lips, a strong tongue parting lips as the shift of hips has his cock kissing your opening. He tests the waters, pushing forward for the bulbous head runs up and down and up again to touch the bundle of nerves that makes you moan under his mercy.

Tears of frustration prickle eyes but his tongue continues to messily run over every part of your mouth - the roof, the tongue, sucking lips purple and swollen - he can't get enough. It's torturous but soft, lips are kind and caring and considerating on the distraction for the moment.

"You're so beautiful, how'd I get so lucky?." He sounds drunk whispering against your lips, slurring and slow as flesh fingers knot the back of your hair to bring you deeper into his lips. "Can't get enough of you."

"Buck, need you." Wether he hears the words or completely ignores them, his tongue rolls over your own, sharp teeth catching the fat of your lip as his hips tut into yours. He's throbbing against your inner thigh, pre-cum mixed with your own arousal soaking the skin.

The small hand goes unnoticed as it slips down his hard stomach, following the trail of hair that leads to him. His lips are too busy, messy and wet as they move against your own. A hand wraps around his hardness, momentarily separating where you two meet, a small gasp parting lips.

His eyes flutter close as you pump him, pressing soft, gentle kisses against his shoulder. The skin is hot, and still tastes salty from his dream but the whisper of your name under his breath has you reaching forward, fingers at the base of his neck to bring him to your own lips.

You take this time to squeeze and he groans, unaware of your true intensions to push him off, hands against his chest to apply a force that's enough to knock him into his back.

Pretty blue eyes with soft alabaster skin, which flushes compared to the disholved light pink blanket that's fabric tightens under his body weight but never leaves your face, well maybe a second to watch you straddle his thighs, rub your aching pussy against this heavy length.

He doesn't fight as you lift yourself up, rubbing the throbbing head against your folds before slipping into the warm, wet hole with a hiss.

"Jesus, sweetheart." He groans, every inch sending a shock of pleasure up his spine but also stretching you so good it's intoxicating. Drunk on him, the way blue eyes beg you for more, bites his lip and smirks seeing just how ruined you already look.

Finally he's snug, not an inch left to move but you're so warm he doesn't know if he wants to, so you decide to for him. Pressing a hand against his chest for support, giving him an experimental roll that receives a deep breath, "That's it."

"Look good like this." Cool metal squeezes your left breast with his admittance as your hips finally find their rhythm.

Bucky flesh hand follow the lines of your stomach, over the roundness of your breast grab ahold of the posterior aspect of your deltoid, the other cool one is digging dents into the skin of your hip as another skillful roll of your hips has his head rolling back onto the ground.

His mouth hangs open, soft praises filling the air.

You're so good to me.

That's it honey, feel so good.

Eyes squeezed shut as small, sloppy kisses are felt against his neck. A set of teeth digging into the skin and something snaps. A snarl with teeth, fangs on full display as he uses his hand placement as an advantage to turn the pair of you. He pulls out with a hiss, angry and red but the hand against your back guides you to lay on your stomach. With a gentle but meaningful push pressing your cheek to the floor and keeps it there, his other hand curling around your hips to pull them towards him.

Without a word he splits you open again, easing himself until you're a withering mess, under the mercy of his hand which keeps your head grounded, the surface of the floor cool on contrast with the skin of your cheek. He doesn't waste any time, pulling out before trusting so deep you feel him in your stomach.

It doesn't stop, over and over again. Every ounce of frustration is felt as he sheths every inch of himself inside you. Brutal, almost painful but clouds your mind, barely can speak as his hips snap against your own.

He's taking it out on you, so lost in his pleasure he's temperily blind from why this even started in the first place, all he can concentrate on his how good and right you feel, the sound of your arousal every time he trusts into you, the way his name falls from your lips.

A small ache starts to form from the repeated force on your ischial but it's burns so good as he continues to split you open.

"Fuck..." He moans, "So good, sweetheart."

His hips are faultering and slowly loosing rhythm as he hears his end, the vibranium fingers squeeze your ass before pulling away and coming down to hard you see black and feel the rush of blood to that area makes you dizzy.

It's a sharp, searing heat that fills your stomach. Under his mercy as he claims you his, teeth scrape but his lips follow behind to soothe. A hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you towards him but his hips never stop, he's filling you with a brutal pace as your back makes contact with his swollen chest.

The hand wraps around the front now, squeezing the tender area of your neck and you're a mess, feeling his other hand press down on the bundle of nerves that makes you squeal, begging for more.

Arousal coats your legs, thank God he's holding you up because they're shaking, unsteady as he bottoms out inside you again. The bulbous head stretching you to no return, he changed the angle by flexing an knee for more force and you're done for.

Teeth nipping your ear, down the sensative skin of your neck that's already covered with all his love bites, soothing them with the warm surface of his tongue. Heavy breathing in your ear all you could hear as all your other sense dull out, falling limp in his arms.

It's numbing the way the orgasm hits you, blinding and all you can feel is a red hot release that bubbles your chest, makes you cry out for him. All you can hear is a moan in your ear, the "Good girl," as Bucky nears his end.

Almost seconds later, hips still against your ass, pressing harshly as white spurts coat your walls and follow with a small kiss against your shoulder.

He's breathing heavy, slowly lowering both of you on the floor but doesn't dare pull out, instead pulls you close to his chest, sensative and twitching.

He's breathless, but looking over your shoulder to see the closed mouth smile with an appearance of a dimple. "Thank you, baby doll. Feel better already."

His tongue clicks at the imprint of his hand on your cheek, red and on fire but due to the post organism haze you barely felt it. The outline of his fingers starting to rise off the skin, it would be there for a while. "I'm sorry." An apologetic kiss touches your arm, follows a trail up and to your back, soft breath fans your neck, "I was too rough, took it out on you."

Sleepily shaking your head with a goofy grin, "Was good, like it."

A hand cups your head, lifting it front the hard floor to place a pillow there and gently placing it there. The other rubs soothing circular motions over your ass check, with a small frown.

"Bucky, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Don't like hurting you, was too rough." He argues, guilt creeping at his shoulders, weighing then down aa avoids eye contact.

"I liked it." Despite your sore extremities you turn to face him, one hand comes up to cup his cheek, rub the high globes of his face and vibranium soon follows to cover yours. "You were not too rough, in fact, wanna give me a matching one on the other side?"

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character

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binnieboyswhore · 3 years

Text

Bunny

Pairing: Changbin x Reader Genre: smut Word count:1,723 Warnings: Pet play (he just calls you bunny nothing more than that), Hickeys and of course Sex Authors note: Sorry this has taken so long to get out, i’ve been trying to write like five things at once and my head gets jumbled. Also sorry if this is trash, i deleted it all and re wrote it idk how many times but i need to put something out.

Please if you are under the age of 18 do not interact. Thank you :)

Normally going with Binnie to music video sets wasn’t that big of a deal as you always made food for the boys and helped waste time with them, today though was different. You set down the food you had brought, the boys thanking you one by one as you find a corner to snuggle into. Your body exhausted from the over stimulation of the night before thanks to Changbin.

Chan passes by you on his way to the food table, “You okay Y/N?”

You open your eyes and smile softly at him, “ya, just extra sleepy today.”

He smiles cutely at you, “okay hold on” he sticks his finger up at you and retreats back to the room he was in returning with a blanket.

“Stay cozy,” he said, laying it on top of you.

You mumble out a soft “thanks Channie” and he pats you on the head and goes to join the other boys.

You lay there eyes closed but unable to fall asleep instead focusing on Changbin theatrically re telling the story of how he had to “save” you from a spider in the bathtub last night. He went on and on about you screaming and how he basically had to wrestle the spider cause it was so big when Han had thrown in “are you sure the spider was big or are you just that small?”

You could hear Binnie grunt at his remark wishing he could smack him in the back of the head but showing restraint. The group went on to discuss other things and go from topic to topic.

What Binnie didn’t mention was how you showed your gratitude towards your hero and how one blowjob accidentally turned into hours of him just obliterating your pussy. Just at the thought of last night, between your legs grew damp and you faintly felt his hand wrapped around your throat. You’re breathing started to become heavy as you tried to think of anything else besides Bins head between your legs. As you squeezed your thighs you felt someone lay on the couch behind you and as you felt the hand that gripped onto you you can’t help but feel a little devastated.

“Wakey, wakey.” The deep Australian voice whispered in your ear.

“What do you want Felix?” You mumble, “I’m trying to take a nap.”

“You’re kidding yourself if you think you actually are, I give it 10 minutes before Jisung and Hyunjin start opera singing for no reason” he giggled. You roll your eyes while turning on your side to face him.

“Why are you so tired anyway? You texted me you were going to bed early.” Felix said repositioning his head on his arm.

“Ya, I was but then ya know Binnie.” You said feeling the heat on your cheeks.

“God you guys are like bunnies, are you ever not doing it?” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Well we’re not right now and we very much could be so be thankful.” You huff at him.

“You’re so gross. Anyways after this we’re all gonna do a movie night at the dorm, do you wanna come?”

You thought about it, go home and sleep or stay around these hooligans and spend time with your boyfriend? “Ya I guess I’ll come but I’m not bringing anything.”

“Great, I already baked some stuff so don’t worry.” He said, his smile growing and roughing up your hair. You “hmph” at him as you try to fix your hair, exposing the hickey right behind your ear.

“You forgot one.” You stare at him in confusion until he pokes it with his finger. Your eyes go wide bringing your hand up to cover it. “Don’t worry stay here and I’ll go grab some green concealer.”

You nod your head in thanks as you sit up covering it with your hair knowing if Minho or Jisung got a glimpse of it they wouldn’t let you or Binnie live it down. Thankfully he hurried back with a small bag and a sponge and got to dotting and blending the make up in.

“Next time, tell him to not be so rough,” Felix said, putting everything away.

“Who says it’s him making it rough?” You smirk at him and he scrunches his nose at you. You can’t help but let out a loud laugh catching everyone’s attention, including the eyes of your boyfriend who was playing some slap game with Jisung.

Binnie, noticing how close you and Felix were came sauntering over, sitting next to you wrapping his arm around your waist, “Secrets don’t make friends.” he said, feeling left out.

“I know they make best friends.” You said kissing his cheek and smiling at him.

“We weren't telling secrets anyway, I was telling her she needs to tell you to stop being so rough with her.” Felix told him matter of factly.

“Hey,” Binnie says, grabbing you under your chin, “if bunny wants it rough bunny gets it rough. I could never say no to this cute face.” he kisses you smiling knowing he’s grossing out Felix.

“Y/n please tell your boyfriend to stop being gross.” Felix says, his nose scrunching once again.

You lean into Binnie resting your head on his shoulder, “Why? Would you tell bunny no?” you tease him pouting your bottom lip.

Felix's cheeks turn bright red at the thought of being there with you and Binnie in a sexual situation. “You guys are no fun.” He says getting up and heading to snuggle with what looks like Han.

You look at Changbin who’s already staring at you, “What?” you question him.

“I just missed you.” He said, cocking his head to the side like a puppy.

“Binnie you literally spent the night at my house and we drove here together. How could you possibly miss me?” You say giggling at him.

He gives you another kiss and grabs your hand, placing it over his crotch, feeling his stiffening cock you open your eyes, “Here?” you asked in a hushed whisper.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.” he says sincerely studying your face.

You start to remember your thoughts before Felix had interrupted them, “Where would we go?” you grab his hand.

He smiles at you grabbing your hand back and dragging you out of their room and down a hallway as he checks every door, you follow holding the blanket Chan gave you close around your shoulders. Every door Changbin had tried had been locked and you were whispering for him to hurry before Chan caught you guys and finally he pulled a door open and not really looking in it he pulled you in closing the door behind him. He laid his lips on you heavily, rubbing his hand all over the wall to find a light switch.

Your hip bumped something and a loud clang happened, you jumped a lightbulb smacking the back of your head. You reach up to turn it on and look to see what has fallen then look around where you are and changbin and you start laughing. Of course the only door that would open would be the janitors closet and on the floor was a mess of brooms and mops.

Changbin had found a table and continued with what he came here to do, you. He grabbed the side of your head capturing your lips in a kiss backing you into said table. Grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling them up for you to jump, he set you top of it, moving his mouth to kiss down your neck.

You reached out to start unbuttoning his shirt when he grabbed your hands chuckling, “We don’t have time for foreplay babe, I’ve gotta be on the floor in like 15 minutes.”

He reaches his hand down between the band of your pants rubbing his fingers on your clit that was very much so still sore from the night before. You let out a moan as his finger gathered your slick from between your folds.

“Geez that fast?” Changbin says smirking

Your cheeks burn a shade of red, “Don’t get shy, I think it’s hot.” He says leaving kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

He quickly uses the slick that he built up on his fingers to cover his cock as a makeshift lube. He lowered your pants just enough to slide himself inside you, wasting no time he grabbed onto the table and started pounding into you causing you to yelp and moan. You could hear every grunt he let out with his lips being right next to your ear, only feeding into the building knot in your stomach. You use your hands to keep yourself stable on the table but with the roughness that Changbin is pounding into you with was making it difficult.

“Binnie, please” you whine, throwing your head back “I need to come.”

He brings his ring clad fingers between the two of you, finding your clit and begins rubbing it in rough circles, trying to milk every nerve in your body for this orgasm. He knows he’s on the brink of achieving it when your walls begin to spasm around him.

“Come on then, come for me bunny.” Binnie whispers to you as his hips snap harder and hand rubs you faster.

You begin to let go and just as your moan slips past your lips the door swings open and Chan barges in, “Bin let’s go- OH MY GOD.” He steps back out of the room as he makes eye contact with you completely ruining your orgasm and making you scream.

You take the blanket and cover yourself with it as you hear more feet come running down the hall.

“Stop, don’t go in there.” You hear Chan say to whoever is approaching.

Binnie looks at you with big eyes trying not to laugh mean while you look like you’re about to cry.

“Is Y/N okay?” You hear Felix's voice question with worry.

“I’m fine,” you yell at him, “Chan just scared me.”

“What’re they doing?” Felix asks Chan.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Chan answers, annoyance very evident in his tone.

“Ugh, are you guys ever not fucking.” Felix yells.

Binnie can’t help but laugh looking at you blush, “I don’t call her bunny for nothing.”

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it.

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors.

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

It’s fun.

Point. Right. Right.

It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

Yeah, they gotta work that out.

Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

Normal people.

What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

No one is normal and normal is boring.

Logan. Right.

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

Oh.

Right.

He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

So. Gentle it is then.

Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

But with Logan...

Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

Not anymore.

Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

Take a shower.

Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

Go to sleep.

Ask someone for help.

See?

If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

He can’t.

Fuck.

He knocks.

“One moment, please.”

Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

“Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

“Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

“Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

“Not wearing your costume?”

“Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Care. Try and take care of me.”

Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

“Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

“So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

“As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

“You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

“Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

Logan frowns. “Like what?”

Glad you fucking asked.

“‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

He watches Logan’s face tense.

“Sound familiar, Lolo?”

“You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

“That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

“Lolo.”

Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

Logan freezes.

“W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

“Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

Gotcha.

Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

“Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“But I have work.”

“But you need food.”

“Remus—“

“Logan.”

At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

“Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

“I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

“’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

“I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

“Hey!”

“Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

“It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

For fuck’s sake…

Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

“Remus, what—“

“You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

“I am being honest!”

“You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

“I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

Or eating.

Or taking care of himself.

Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

“Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

“Lolo?”

“It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

“You know what I do.”

Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

“You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

“Ah!”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, just—just a little startled.”

“Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

“I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

“It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

Oh, Lolo.

“I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

“But why?”

Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

“O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

“Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

“Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #logan angst #virgil sanders #patton sanders #self harm #tw self harm #tw: self harm

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softholand · 3 years

Text

cherry flavored kisses - t.h

pairing: tom holland x youtuber!reader

summary: tom and harrison try to do your makeup while answering questions to know ‘who knows you better’

warnings: swearing, a lot of dialogue

words: 3.2k

a/n: this is absolutely not my favorite writing, but i still quite like it so, here you go!! lol i really hope you guys enjoy it, i love writing this series (can we call it that?) and i have so many ideas for it :)) please, let me know if you like it and want more of these <33 i think that’s it for now, enjoy!!

Another day, another video to film. This time you weren’t alone though, you had your boyfriend Tom and one of your other best friends Harrison with you, to film a video you had been dying to.

You were finishing setting up your camera to start recording when you felt two strong arms wrap around your torso. “Tom, stop! I have to finish this!” You chuckled, already knowing the owner of those arms. “Couldn’t resist, you look good from the back.” Before the warning, Tom swatted your ass, causing you to let out a muffled scream, which got the attention of Harrison, who was previously on his phone.

“C’mon, you guys will seriously keep flirting with each other during the whole video?” Harrison huffed, tossing his phone away. “No, we’re not!” You assured your blonde friend, but Tom had a different idea. “Speak for yourself, love!” He smirked, happy to annoy his friend. Rolling his eyes, Harrison said, “I already regret accepting this!”

Once your equipment was ready, you called Tom and Harrison, who got settled in your bed, with you between the two. “You guys ready? Did you turn off your phones?” You asked, not wanting to have anything getting in the way of your filming. When both boys assured you they had, you relaxed, pressing the small record button on the remote on your hand.

“Hi everyone, welcome back to my channel! Today I have two very special guests here with me. On my right side we have Tom Holland and on my left, Harrison Osterfield. I don’t think you’ve ever been officially to my channel before, Haz?” You asked Harrison, to which he responded, “No, I don’t think so! Hello everyone!” He said, flashing the camera an smile.

“Well, you guys are already familiar with Tom, so he doesn’t need any more introductions.” You sassed, laughing at his offended face. “Rude!” He said, before giving the camera a little wave. “Hi guys, it’s me again, Tom! I know, I know you guys have been dying to see me again, what can I say?” Your boyfriend let it out, taking complete control of your video.

“Okay, that’s enough, movie star! Can we actually start the video now?” You asked, Tom, letting out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah! Go ahead!” He rolled his eyes to the camera, but you could feel the small kick he gave your foot, wanting to make sure you knew it was all a joke. You smiled, and before you could say anything else, Harrison came through.

“What is the video about, by the way? ‘Cause, I don’t know if you guys know but we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing here.” The blonde said, pointing to Tom and himself. “Yes, they have actually no idea why they’re here.” You laughed, being met with worried looks from both of the boys. “I didn’t like that laugh,” Harrison exclaimed, being followed by Tom. “Should we be scared?” Asked your boyfriend, but you quickly shrugged them off.

“No, just shut up and let me tell them, and you, what you’d be doing. On today’s video...” you said, before getting the makeup box you had put together for this video, which was hiding under your bed. “You are going to be doing my makeup!” You exclaimed, laughing at the boy's surprised reactions.

“Haven’t you realized I’m not wearing any?” You asked, pointing to your bare face. “No! You know you look beautiful anyway, love!” Tom cooed, making your cheeks grow red. “Oh, shut up!” You rolled your eyes, flashing him a smile.

“I don’t like this!” Haz let it out, inspecting some of your makeup products. “Isn’t it fun?” You smirked, making him roll his blue eyes. “You’re kidding, right? How am I supposed to do this?” The blonde huffed. “Actually, this is a test to know if you watch my videos, cause you’ll have to recreate one of my looks.”

Tom and Harrison shared a look that could only be translated by the word fear. “You do makeup-related videos?” Tom asked, completely oblivious. “It was not a proper makeup tutorial, it was more like a get ready with me.” You smiled, trying to ease both of the boys' nerves. “Well, clearly you both haven’t been watching my videos, so it’s your fault you have no idea what to do.” You sassed, putting your tongue out.

“We’re fucked, mate!” Your boyfriend chuckled. “Don’t swear on my videos, Thomas!” You scolded him, slapping his arm. “Okay, so I’m gonna show a picture of the look you have to recreate but that’s the only help I’ll give. You can’t ask me anything related to makeup during the video, got it?” You questioned, to which they nodded. “Also…” before you could finish your sentence, Tom added, “There’s more?”

“Yeah, I’m going to be asking you questions about me while you do my makeup, to know which one of you knows me better.” You squealed, feeling the excitement in your veins. The boys didn’t seem to be so happy, especially Harrison, who claimed this was not fair, since Tom was your boyfriend, therefore know more about you.

“We’ve been friends for forever, Harrison! I bet there’s stuff you know that Tom doesn’t.” You said, getting an offended reaction from Tom. “Hey!” He protested, to which you rolled your eyes. “Can we start now, please? We’ve been here for 10 minutes already.” You pleaded, getting them to finally agree.

“Okay, where do you guys wanna start?” You asked, being met with confused glances. After a couple of seconds, you heard “Foundation!” and “Primer!”, all at once. “Yeah, primer! That’s exactly what I said!” Tom tried to cover it up but Harrison wasn’t having it. “Fuck off, Tom! I said it first!” Swatting the blonde's arm, you went back to scolding, “I told you two not to swear!”

While the boys started to choose between your selection of products, you took back your phone that was currently sitting on the bed, with the selfie you took with the look they had to recreate. “While you guys start on my face, I’ll ask the first question. What do I like more: sweet or salty food?” You asked, closing your eyes for Harrison to apply the primer on half of your face.

“Sweet!” Tom answered, squeezing some of your favorite primers on his hand, before applying it to your face. “Yeah, you’re like an ant. Always looking for crumbs of sugar.” Harrison responded, making you chuckle. “True, I have a very sweet tooth.” You smiled, before going to the next question. “What is one of my biggest fears?”

While they looked for a foundation, they answered, again at the same time. Tom said spiders, while Harrison said, clowns. “I mean, you’re both right! But if I had to choose it would probably be clowns.” You said, laughing at Harrison's little victory dance. “C’mon, you can even look at a spider, love. You always call me to get rid of them.” Tom protested. “Well, yes but I would rather have to kill a spider than a clown.” You tried to reason but ended up making the three of you burst out laughing.

When you finally recovered from your fit of laughter, the boys started with their foundation choices. “Wait, you only put your skin tone foundations here, right?” Tom asked, still trying to find the perfect one. “Yeah, I’m not that evil.” You laughed. “Can I use this to apply it?” Harrison asked, holding one of your beauty blenders. “What did I say, Haz? No makeup-related questions.” You smirked, hearing him groan.

“God, I hope this works!” By your side, Tom started spreading some of the foundations he had placed on the back of his hand. “Okay, next question! Am I an early bird or a night owl?” Harrison was quicker than Tom this time, “Night owl! She just doesn’t sleep. It’s ridiculous!” He complained, to which you scoffed. “I do sleep, but I’d rather stay awake until 3 am than having to wake up at 6 am.” You reasoned.

“Just admitted, love! You stay up ‘cause we have lots of fun in bed.” Tom winked, making your face grow red, and Harrison gag. “Seriously, Tom?! Ugh, disgusting!” The blonde exclaimed while you tried your best to calm your nerves. “You did not just say that!” Tom only shrugged, laughing at both of your faces.

“Moving on, what was the most embarrassing moment in my life? Oh no, I already regret that!” You said, scared about the answers you were gonna get. Tom laughed while trying very hard to blend your foundation with an eyeshadow brush. Great.

“The time you slipped and fell into the water fountain.” You instantly cringed, remembering the moment vividly in your head. “God, I hate that I told guys that!” You let out a groan, asking for Harrison’s answer. “I was gonna say when you walked in your underwear without realizing Tom was doing an Instagram live, but that's pretty good too.” Harrison laughed, making you blush at his words. “Oh my god, I had completely forgotten that!” You exclaimed, joining your friends in laughter.

“It’s okay, babe! You looked really good.” Tom stated, pecking your lips. You blushed, still getting flustered by his compliments. “Thank you!” Smiling, you kissed him back, before checking your face in one of your blushes to see how they were doing. “That’s actually not bad, good job, guys!” You high-fived them, laughing at their smug faces.

“What’s next, then?” You waited for an answer, which came from Tom this time. “Concealer?” He was so unsure of his answer that it ended up sounding more like a question. “I don’t know, is it?” You shrugged, glancing at Harrison. “I think so, all I know is after concealer, you have to contour,” Harrison stated, taking you by surprise.

“By your shocked reaction, I think we’re right.” Tom laughed, you and Harrison quickly joining him. “Okay, while you guys do that, I’m gonna ask some other questions. Ready?” When they both nodded, you continued. “What is my favorite time of the year?” Tom immediately answered, afraid Harrison would say it first. “Autumn!” Your boyfriend proudly said, while your friend's answer was “Christmas!”

“I do love Christmas but my favorite has to be autumn, it’s just the perfect temperature and the trees are all orange. It's beautiful! So, point for Tom!” Tom smirked, making Harrison roll his eyes. “Next one, what am I allergic to?” You asked, and that was the only question you weren’t sure they had the answer for.

Harrison looked at you as if that would give him the answer. “You don’t have any allergies.” He stated, to which you shook your head. “I have one.” At that, he stopped applying the concealer to your face, totally focused on his next answer. “I have no idea, Uhm, pollen?” The blonde tried, but he was wrong.

“Walnuts, she’s allergic to walnuts!” Tom triumphantly exclaimed, knowing he was right. “Realy?” Harrison asked, to which you nodded. “I had no idea, you know how dangerous that was? I could give you something with walnuts and kill you?” He inquired, making you laugh. “I wasn’t going to die, Haz! It just gives me bad itches.” You clarified, watching him nod.

When the boys moved on from concealing to contouring your face, that was when things started to go south. Tom chose a colorway too dark for your skin tone, while Harrison put so much on your face turned orange. “I’ll give you guys one tip, just ‘cause I don’t wanna look like a clown at the end of this video.” You told them, before explaining they could go back to the concealer to clean the mess they made.

Once everything seemed good, they moved on to blush and highlighters, and you to your next question. “How many tattoos do I have?” You waited for the answers, while the boys kept painting your face. “Two, your star sign on your finger, and a butterfly on your ankle you did when you were 16 and regret it since then.” Harrison proudly said, making you wince at his words. “Ouch, you didn’t have to go that hard, Haz!” You smirked, looking expectantly at your boyfriend.

“What’s your answer, Tom?” Taking a break from your face, he cleared his throat before answering. “Three, the two Harrison said and a rose on your hip.” The brunette smiled knowing that, once again, he was the only one right. “Another point to Tom!” You exclaimed while Harrison looked at you like you had two heads.

“See? I said this game wasn’t fair! How could I know you have a tattoo on your hip?” The blonde protested, making your roll your eyes. “That’s not an excuse! The tattoo is visible when I wear a bikini, Haz!” You tried to reason, but clearly, he wasn’t having it. “Oh, sorry I don’t pay closer attention to your body!” Harrison mocked, sticking his tongue out when you flipped him off.

“The rose is my favorite one,” Tom stated, a smile wide on his face. “I wonder why!” Harrison exclaimed, and this time, it was Tom who flipped him off. “Okay, you guys finished with the skin, then?” You inquired, taking another look at yourself in the mirror. Overall, it wasn’t bad. There were a couple of patches here and there where they messed up the contour but, to your surprise, it actually looked decent.

“Now, you guys are lucky I chose a look with no eyeshadow.” You stated, getting excited about the next part. “But you’ll have to put false lashes on.” You smirked, knowing what was to come. “And you call that lucky?” Harrison inquired, making you laugh. “C’mon, it’s not that hard! Here, I’ll show you how to do it.” Taking the lashes from the box, you started to show them how to apply the glue and carefully place the falsies the closest to your real lashes as possible.

“God, I’m sweating!” Tom breathed, making you laugh. “I’ll close my eyes for you to apply, ok?” The boys nodded, and once your eyes were closed, you could hear their nervous breathing at each side of your face, making you chuckle. “This is stressing me out massively. You’re buying dinner tonight for making us go through this.” Your blonde friend sighed. “Oh, shut up! I do this every day!” You flipped him off, still unmoving.

Once you felt they stopped moving, you asked if you could open your eyes. Deciding to do a little prank, you pretended to open them, only for it to be stuck. “Oh my god, I think you guys glued my eyes shut!” You cried, already dying to watch his reactions. “What? We could do that?” Tom exclaimed, completely freaked out. “y/n, look at me!” Harrison asked, and you felt his hands going to your eyes.

“It hurts!” You whined, “trying” to get your eyes open. “Fuck, what do we do now?” Tom practically yelled, making you laugh, which obviously confused them. Opening your eyes, you saw two shocked faces, staring with wide eyes, right back at you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I had to!” You laughed, feeling tears starting to form in your eyes.

“I can’t believe you did this!” Tom breathed, while Harrison shoved you harshly, absolutely pissed. “You fucking asshole! I’m never filming with you again!” He stated while you tried hard to recover from your fit of laughter. “I’m sorry!” You apologized, doing your best puppy dog eyes for them.

“My hands are shaking!” Tom informed, showing his hands that were in fact, shaking. “Baby, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you’d believe it.” You said, guilt coating your words this time. Tom assured you it was okay, even saying he did find the prank kinda funny in the end. Harrison did not agree with your boyfriend, pretending to be mad for the rest of the video, even though the corners of his mouth gave him away.

Seeing you guys were filming for about forty-five minutes already, you decided to not even check the boy's work with the lashes, going straight to the last question, while they applied lipstick. “Okay, so here’s the final question, what is my body count?” You smirked, Tom’s expression completely shifting.

“Seriously? That is the question?” He inquired, raising his eyebrows. “Hey, they suggested the question.” You defended yourself, pointing to the recording camera. “I’ll go first then, let me see…” Your blonde friend said while pretending to count with both of his hands, over and over again. “Fuck off!” You flipped him off, watching his smirk grow in size.

“I’m kidding! But uhm, I would say five?!” Raising your eyebrows, you nodded, before turning back to Tom. “What’s your answer, sir?” You playfully asked. “Six, the answer is six!” He rolled his eyes, annoyed with the question. “Oh, shit! I’m so stupid! I forgot to count Tom!” Harrison face palmed himself, making you burst out laughing.

“Yeah, sorry to break this to you, mate but we already banged,” Tom smirked, shooting you a wink. “Tom!” You scolded him, while Harrison pretended to gag. “Gross! I didn’t need the image of my two best friends fucking in my head.” Harrison exclaimed, making your cheeks grow red. “Okay, that’s enough! Are you guys finished with the makeup?” You quickly asked, dying to change the subject. “Yeah, yeah!” Harrison murmured, while Tom smirked.

Taking your blush, you finally checked yourself in the mirror to see the finished look. “Oh my god, it actually looks good, guys! Good job!” You exclaimed, shamelessly fixing your lashes. “Well, I’m not gonna be the one judging who did it better, so now it’s with you guys. Who do you think did better, Tom or Harrison?” You asked, showing both sides of your face to the camera.

“About the questions, I’m pretty sure Tom won.” You stated, much to Harrison’s dismay. “Of course he did!” The blonde rolled his eyes, making you laugh. “Good luck next time, mate!” Tom teased, a smirk sitting proudly on his face. “Stop it, you two! Now say goodbye before I finally end this almost hour-long video.” You groaned, dreading the moment you’d have to edit the video.

“Bye everyone, thank you for watching! Please, vote for me!” Tom smiled, giving the camera an adorable little wave. “Mate, you already won the questionnaire, let me have this one,” Harrison whined, sounding like a child. When he said goodbye, you finished your outro, before finally stopping recording.

“We did it! Thank you, guys! It was a little chaotic but you did a great job.” You smiled proudly. “Of course, anything for my girl,” Tom stated, getting up from his spot on the bed, stopping right by your side. With both hands on your hips, he closes the distance between you, landing a soft kiss on your lips. “Okay, I had enough of you two for today. Bye!” Harison exclaimed, before also getting up, leaving your bedroom.

“Why do you taste like cherry?” Tom asked as soon as he let go of your lips. “Oh, it’s probably the lipgloss. It’s cherry-flavored!” You explained, asking if he liked it since his eyes kept trailed to your lips. “Hum, I love it!” Your boyfriend smiled, and this time it was you who closed the distance, giving him another one of your cherry-flavored kisses.

funny story (that’s actually not funny at all): the water fountain part it’s based on true events 🥲 lmao

tagging: @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @duskholland @screamholland @missnxthingg @wazzupmrstark @peeterparkr @veryholland @cali-holland @mrs-hollandstan @uglypastels @storybookholland @bi-lmg @spideyspeaches @sinisterspidey @rosyparkers @hollandswife @sunshine96love

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland x youtuber!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland fluff #my writing #tom holland writing

375 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-)✧

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yamujiburo · 3 years

Text

Jessie and Cassidy reconciliation fanfic thing

I was going through my notes app just now to just clear out some junk and I found something I'd written like a year ago and totally forgot about hahhaha. I don't usually do fanfics but I guess I was in a writing mood that night. I can't remember why I stopped. I either got stuck, didn't know how I wanted it to end or was just having a hard time figuring out like,,,, the arcs and what I wanted the main focus of the story to be. Anyhow, here it is if you wanna read the set up I made for it haha

Jessie, James and Meowth have once again failed to complete a mission and Matori is TIRED of it. She brings it up go Giovanni who tells her not to worry about them. Matori can’t figure out why Giovanni puts up with them and starts digging on possible reasons why Giovanni would keep them around. She decides to go to HR to find answers. There, she meets Wendy.

“Ah– Matori!”

“Pull up records for Jessie, James and–“, Matori notices that Wendy already has Jessie’s files pulled up and gives her a strange look.

“I see you’re already doing your research on Miss Jessie…”

“N-no! Well, yes. It’s just that Jessie has continuously failed almost all missions she’s been assigned! Not to mention she’s singlehandedly almost made the organization go broke. Well, not really but she still owes a lot of money!”

“And the other two?”

“Huh? Oh yeah them, too I guess.”

“I just don’t understand what Giovanni could possible see in them. They’re not good for Team Rocket.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve been trying to get the boss to fire them for years. But he’s got a real soft spot for them apparently. Tch, to think they were the top of their class once.”

“Hmph, I find that hard to believe.”

“I can’t speak for James and Meowth, but Jessie really was a promising recruit. So much so that when she threatened to quit, she somehow manipulated every exec into fulfilling her demands.”

“Threatened to quit?” The gears in Matori’s head began to turn. Sure Giovanni wouldn’t fire the trio, but if they were to quit, there would be nothing he could do.

“Yeah, she had a falling out with her first partner. And instead of being PROFESSIONAL she wined until she got a new one. Then she proceeded to go through like 10 more partners until James came along. If you’ve ever talked to her I’m sure you can tell she’s not the easiest person to work with.”

“Hm. Perhaps it’s time to switch up some teams.”

“C-can you do that? Is that allowed?”

“I could pull some strings.”

“Isn’t that sabotage?” Wendy asks. Matori shoots her a look.

“Call it what you want, but it’s my job to make sure this organization is successful as possible. Getting rid of some problem lackeys will only benefit Team Rocket. If Giovanni won’t do anything about them, then I will.”

“Matori. You are my hero”

“Are there any potential candidates we could temporarily team them up with? Or members they’ve been known to… not get along with?”

A big, Gengar-like smile creeps on Wendy’s face. “I know just the agents.”

_____________________________________________________________

Early in the morning in Jessie and James’ base, they get a call from Matori. Jessie is already annoyed, knowing who’s calling, but she wakes up her team members just in case it was Giovanni.

“A little early don’t you think, Matori?” Matori composes herself and ignores Jessie’s jab.

“Giovanni hasn’t arrived yet, but I have very important news.” Jessie, James and Meowth’s interests are piqued. “Your success rates have been… less than exemplary. But, you have previously shown you are exceptional agents.”

Jessie is taken aback by the, sort of, compliment from Matori. “So what’s the issue?”

“We have reason to believe that, while neither of you are individually the reason for your constant failures, you are incompatible as a team and you are going to be reassigned to different partners, effective immediately.”

James and Meowth look at each other shocked, and the thoughts going through their head were interrupted by their soon to be, not-leader. “WHAT?! You can’t split us up! We–“

“I apologize for the inconvenience. But this is for the benefit of Team Rocket. I do not have time to argue this. It has already been decided and your new partners have been decided. James, you are to return to headquarters where you will meet your new partner and Jessie, you will remain where you are and your new partner will arrive tomorrow.”

“What about, Me-owth?”

Matori pauses. She hadn’t thought about the cat. “You can decide who you wish to go with. Thank you for your time. Best of luck with your new arrangements.”

Matori hangs up. Jessie, James and Meowth stand staring at the screen, solemn. What doe they do now? Years of working together over, just like that.

“UGH THAT LITTLE FOUR EYED BOWL CUT HAIRED FREAK! I’m gonna do something about this! They can’t do this to us!” James gently puts his had on Jessie’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing we can do,”

James packs up, Meowth has decided to go with James. They say their goodbyes. James and Meowth grab the rest of their things and leave. Jessie is left alone with her thoughts.

_____________________________________________________________

Back at headquarters, we see James and Meowth being led by Matori to her office where she says his new partner is waiting. She talks about how this member is in a very similar situation. They walk in and see short, green hair. “BUTCH???”

“Oh no not you guys!”

“If you’re my new partner, that must mean…”

“Oh no,” they all say in unison.

_____________________________________________________________

Jessie still lying in the same place on her bed. Why was she feeling this way? She’d been through so many parters before. Sure she’d been with James and Meowth longer, but she wasn’t one to get attached. Well, not anymore. In the middle of her thought, she hears the elevator to the base coming down. She gets up and makes herself as presentable as possible (over shirt is off, makeup kinda smeared, boots off). Before she can get her shit together, a pair of white boots click, clack in. Jessie looks up, and the flash of orange, blonde seared her eyes.

“CASSIDY?!”

“JESSIE?!”

“No, no, no there has to be some sort of mistake. I can’t be teamed up with you! I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I can’t believe I going to have to work with your ugly ass every day.”

“You’re one to talk. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Jessie turned to the standup mirror leaning against the wall. She was definitely not looking her best.

“You caught me at a bad time!”

“You sure? I recall you always looking this ratty. I guess it has been a while since I’ve seen you, thank goodness," Cassidy said smugly. Jessie was already pissed off.

“We’re calling Matori RIGHT NOW to fix this.”

“Gee, while you’re looking like that?”

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT.” Jessie picked up the communicator, which brandished a large R on the wall. Matori picked up.

“Good afternoon Jessie, are you aware that you’re not in uniform?”

“Cut the crap you clod! You set me up with Cassidy on purpose!”

“Ah I see you’ve met your new partner! Hello, Cassidy.”

“Matori,” Cassidy said with a small bow. Of course Cassidy was trying to stay composed. Just another way to try one-up Jessie.

“We can NOT work together. I demand you put me back on my old team!”

“While I’m not one to disagree with higher ups, Miss Matori, I unfortunately have to side with Jessie on this one. You might not be aware but Jessie and I were partners once in our training days. We simply are not compatible,” Cassidy explained as politely as possible.

“Was there a reason for this, incompatibility? I was looking through your records and it appeared that you two were quite the team back in the day. I had assumed that the executives just wanted two top agents to be on other teams with some less skilled trainees.” Both Cassidy and Jessie blushed.

It was true that Jessie and Cassidy were at the top of their class for quite some time. But the reasons for them being split up were quite… personal.

“Listen, we just can’t work together. Try getting that through that helmet head of yours.”

_____________________________________________________________

~aaaaand this is where i got to~

Anyone wanna finish this for me? /j

I can't remember where I wanted this to go. I think I was gonna have Jessie and Cassidy try to suck it up and work together so they don't lose their jobs. They fight Ash and Goh, trying to get Pikachu as usual and quickly fail because of their bickering. They eventually have a heart to heart, wondering where they went wrong back when they were a team. They say a lot of things that they'd failed to communicate in the past and reconcile.

THEN this is where I kinda got stuck on what I wanted the focus/them to me. There was a version in my head where after they reconcile they like,,, make out and start falling in love again (for those new here, I firmly believe Jessie and Cassidy are bitter exes and had a falling out during their training days). After this their chemistry and communication improve immensely resulting in them succeeding to catch Pikachu. Matori comes to retrieve it but Ash and Goh get it back while it's in Matori's hands (making it her failure). And then I wasn't sure how to end this version. Maybe things going back to normal after Giovanni finds out that Jessie and Cassidy are dating and deems it unprofessional. Jessie, James and Meowth are reunited and Cassidy and Butch are as well. Happy ending were things are as they were but now Cassidy and Jessie are on good terms and still together maybe???

The oooother version was centering the story more around Jessie and her inability to keep her partners/not appreciating them. If I went with this I think I'd start off the story differently with her being a dick to James and Meowth (which she is a lot of the time but this time she crosses a line). After the team switch she finds that she really had been taking her teammates for granted. I think Cassidy and Jessie still have that heart to heart but then it's more about how Jessie hurt Cassidy and Jessie kinda realizes that she's still making the same errors currently. They reconcile buuut the both of them still want their old partners back so they hatch a plan to successfully steal Pikachu but ensure that Ash gets it back when it's in Matori's hands. They request that they be paired up with their old teammates and in exchange, wouldn't tell Giovanni that Matori messed up. Everything goes back to normal the end.

I had too many jumbled ideas and because I don't have the attention span to write for more than a couple hours I just dropped this LOL. Just thought I'd share in case anyone found this remotely interesting or entertaining hehe

#long post #yamushipping

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laviefantasie · 3 years

Text

Not A Fan | Luke Patterson

Mini Series

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: What happens if Sunset Curve loses their sound after their bandmate’s betrayal? Will a certain shy songwriter be able to help Luke Patterson, known narcissistic rockstar, find his inspiration before Sunset Curve’s new demo is due?

| MASTERLIST |

| PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE |

Loud screams were heard from the band’s rehearsal studios as the staff of the recording label tried to get the door opened without success. A loud crash was heard followed by an angry grunt, making the security staff break the door’s handle to open it.

The sight that greeted them was an angry-looking Luke Patterson beating the crap out of Bobby Wilson, Sunset Curve’s rhythm guitarist, while Alex Mercer and Reggie Peters tried to pull them away from one another.

To say everyone was confused was an understatement.

The security staff snapping out of their confusion to run to pull apart the bandmates, although the brunette didn’t seem willing to stop punching the dark-haired boy.

“It’s done, Luke!” screams Bobby once he is set free, “There’s nothing any of you can do! It’s over! They’re my songs now!”

With an angry grunt, Luke tries to set himself free from the guards’ hold making Bobby run out of the door.

Alex and Reggie staring at the way he left with hurt in their eyes. Bobby Wilson had stolen Luke’s songs, the ones that hadn’t yet been recorded by Sunset Curve, and gone off to Convington’s Records.

He had stolen all of Luke’s feelings and the band’s hard work to make a name for himself, not caring about the many years of brotherhood he was throwing away.

“Wha...What do we do now?” Reggie questions softly.

The songwriter lets out an angry scream as soon as the guards let him go, pacing around the room with many emotions running through his body. Betrayal being the one that stands out the most.

“I’ll... I’ll just write new songs” Luke states, “Better songs. Ye-yeah, I’ll write better songs”

The other two boys look at one another with uncertainty, both knowing this cut them all deeply in different ways. Especially, since they considered each other family after everything that had happened with their own.

Meanwhile in Los Angeles, Y/N was walking through the halls of Los Feliz High School with Julie Molina by her side. Since the loss of both of your mothers, you both had lost interest in music. Julie being able to reconnect with her love for it through her mother’s former band demos. You didn’t have the same luck as your dad wasn’t truly supportive of it.

Meanwhile, you continued to avoid playing an instrument or even singing softly in the car. It just didn’t feel right anymore, not without her. Though that didn’t stop you from writing songs, although you always said they were just poems.

Poems that helped you expressed everything you felt without actually having to say it.

The curly-haired girl was trying to convince her best friend to sing at Mrs. Harrison’s music class, afraid the girl was going to lose her spot on the music program for refusing to even play an instrument.

Either way, Y/N didn’t care.

You were ready to be kicked out of the program so your friends could stop trying to push you to sing. You couldn’t do it, you had tried.

“Y/N/N” calls Julie softly as you open your locker, “I know it’s hard, but you have to sing today. Mrs. Harrison was very patient with the both of us but I don’t think she can wait much longer”

Before you can asnwer the Molina, Flynn appears on the curly girl’s side with a big smile on her face, eyes shining brightly as she shows you both what she had opened on her phone.

The Band is Back!

Los Angeles’ very own Sunset Curve comes back! Rumor has it the band is coming home to reunite with their roots in hopes of inspiration for their new album.

We all know that after Trevor Wilson, a.k.a Bobby, left the band our favorite boys fell off the radar, but now they’re back and they’re coming home!

We certainly cannot wait to see what they have in store for us.

Julie smiles excitedly over the article the braided-girl shows them while you simply roll your eyes. Sunset Curve was everyone’s favorite band of the moment, the eighteen-year-olds being revolutionaries with their rock music and 90′s looks.

Even better, they were old students of Los Feliz High School. Their music was good, but honestly, Y/N didn’t see what made them so captivating other than that.

So as Julie and Flynn gushed about the returning superstars, Y/N concentrating on getting the books she would need out of her locker. Her e/c eyes falling on her dark blue songbook at the end of her locker, hesitating you shake your head before closing your locker.

You didn’t need that anymore, no need to torture yourself by having it near you.

Reggie and Alex kept their eyes on Luke as the boy once again ripped a page out of his songbook in anger. Right now they were on their tour bus on their way back home, hoping that being back where it all started helped their brunette songwriter finally come up with something.

So far, the lead guitarist hadn’t been able to even write a single verse. Somehow, Bobby’s betrayal had messed him up in more ways than he had realized, making it hard for him to write something.

“UGH”

Luke throws his black songbook across the bus, almost hitting Reggie in the head. The bass player looks at his best friend with disbelief.

“Sorry, Regg”

Both bandmates look at the boy in worry as he goes to grab his songbook, neither knowing how to help him. Bobby had crossed the line when messing up with the brunette’s songs, if there was something that was very intimate for the Patterson boy it was his songs.

It had been a low blow from Bobby.

Before Alex can open his mouth to try and make his best friend feel better, Reggie’s eyes catch sight of a place he had missed after they had left two years ago to follow their dreams as sixteen-years-old against their parents’ approval.

“Guys!” He calls getting closer to the window “It’s Los Feliz!”

Both missing members run to Reggie’s side to look at the place where they had fallen in love with music for the first time and where they had met one another. The sight bringing smiles to their faces.

Before anyone can say something else, Luke is already screaming at the driver to stop.

“Let’s go say hello, boys”

You were skipping your last class before the music program, deciding you needed the time to decide what you were going to do. Were you actually ready to finally give up music completely?

With a sigh, Y/N opens her locker to grab her dark blue songbook. Staring at it with a troubled look, so concentrated in making up your mind that you don’t notice the three teenage boys that are running your way with their eyes set on one another.

It is not until you fall to the floor with a loud thud that you realize you had been walking while staring at your songbook, proving once again that not watching where you go is never a good idea.

“Oh shi- Are you okay?”

You look towards the voice finding yourself staring at bright green eyes, in confusion you look towards the other two boys behind him recognition flashing across your eyes as you’re reminded of the article Flynn showed you that morning.

You’re about to open your mouth to say you’re fine, but the brunette that’s kneeling beside you covers your mouth in a fast move.

“Please don’t scream!”

You frown with disbelief before biting his hand, making him take his hand off his mouth while letting out a grunt of pain.

“First of all, it’s not polite to cover a stranger’s mouth” you snap before standing up, “Second, I wasn’t going to scream. As unlikely as it is, I’m not a fan, all I was gonna say is that I was fine”

Luke stands up with a frown on his face, looking towards his best friends in confusion before turning to look at you once more.

“Not a fan?” He asks with disbelief, “We’re Sunset Curve”

“Tell your friends” Adds the one with the leather jacket.

You roll your eyes, “I know who you are, my best friends love you”

Luke lets out a scoff before pouting at you, Alex trying -and failing- to keep a smile off his face at Luke’s obvious tantrum over you not being a fan of the band.

Reggie giving the teenage girl his own pout as he realizes the same thing. Alex being the only one who finds the situation amusing.

With a sigh, the h/c girl looks at her things on the floor rushing to grab them. Making sure to throw her songbook inside her backpack before looking towards the band once again.

“Thank you for the fall” you smile sarcastically towards the brunette boy, “Hope to not see you again, boy band”

You continue your way towards the library hoping to catch some sleep before having to go to the music program, ignoring the looks you’re giving by the boys.

“WHO YOU CALLING BOY BAND, SHORTY?”

You roll your eyes as you hear the band’s lead singer scream after you before you disappear from their view.

Luke scoffs at your disappearing figure muttering angrily under his breath about the fact you were not a fan, kneeling to grab his own songbook that fell during the fall only to find a dark blue one instead of her black one.

Staring at it in confusion, the songwriter turns to his friends before realizing you must’ve taken his own songbook by accident. He’s about to run to try to catch up with you when curiosity gains the best of him.

Opening the blue songbook, his green eyes catch sight of an interesting title: Finally Free. Reading through it he cannot help the smile that grows on his face, Alex and Reggie soon appearing by his side as soon as they see their best friend’s eyes shined brightly in a way they hadn’t shined since Bobby’s betrayal.

The three read the lyrics with disbelief. The song was absolute killer, with the right melody they were sure it could be a hit. Maybe, just maybe, he could help you finish it.

But how could he find you again?

#julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson x oc #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x reader #luke jatp #jatp #sunset curve #Luke Patterson x reader

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Too Good for Grey

A/N: Sooo this is a fic that I’ve had in mind ever since I first posted my list of Imagine Ideas a while ago! Though I know Charlie’s decision not to play the role of Christian Grey is what was best for him, part of me will always be heartbroken that we all missed out on 50 Shades of Hunnam 😭💔 In this fic you’re his girlfriend; he’s considering the role and you let him... practice in the bedroom 😏

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Charlie, blindfold, bondage, punishment, light flogging (just with his belt, nothing too intense) Request: No specific request, but there’s been demand for a Part 2 of Red Carpet Rogue and I decided to write this fic as a sequel to it!

Word Count: ~3.4k

[Please read Red Carpet Rogue first if you haven’t yet! Otherwise the second paragraph won’t make much sense without that reference...]

You love mornings like this one. Lazy weekends with your boyfriend, hottest man under the sun. Completely chill and easy and carefree, nowhere to be. No work, no plans. You’re seated in his lap feeding him pancakes from your fork, since that’s the only way to get your man to focus on his breakfast. Charlie’s hands are fully occupied, roving and reckless, moving all over your robe and deep inside. Clearly still riding high from such a scandalously sexy night.

You push another forkful past his lips, then playfully lean in to lick some syrup from his chin as it so sweetly drips. His stubble tickles, causing you to giggle, while he growls and tightens his grip on your hips. “Mmm...” he hums, digging into your skin with his thumbs. “You know I still can’t get over just how fucking awesome last night was, Y/N. Thinking we should invest in a stretch of red carpet to relive it over and over again.”

“Hmm, I like the way you’re thinking...” you respond, settling deeper in his lap and slowly sinking, till you feel your man’s enormous cock grind up against your cunt. Heat burning through your silk robe and his sweatpants. “God, you were so fucking dominant. More than you’ve ever been.”

“That a good thing?” the bastard asks you, as if he has to, bursting into laughter when you shoot him a glare of the fuck do you think?!? Your dom/sub dynamic is not a new thing. “Well, chalk it up to this new script that I’m considering. Came my way yesterday before we headed out for the evening.”

He gestures at the stack of papers on the counter behind him just now, which you hadn’t noticed all morning somehow. You blink at the title printed on the front page and cannot believe what you’re seeing. Basically stop breathing. “Oh, wow...”

Charlie flashes a cheeky grin as he gets off on your reaction. Can’t resist making a stupid dirty pun, ‘cause he’s the worst. Rubbing his crotch harder against yours as he says the words. “Yeah, who could’ve seen that coming.”

“Now if you’re gonna start talking dirty to me, Mr. Hunnam... you’d better be ready to act on it,” you warn him, well aware he’s been ready and raring to go all damn morning. “I know you’d slay this role but don’t know if you really want it, to be honest.”

He shrugs as he kisses stray drops of maple syrup from the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got my doubts. But haven’t ruled it out. Think some part of me wants it. Luckily I’ve got the greatest girlfriend in the world to help me work through my decision-making process.”

“Well, should we call it work...” your lips curve into a seductive smirk, “...or play?”

At those words, Charlie’s cock fucking jerks. That’s your answer, of course. Better than anything he can say.

And you’re so fucking ready to meet Mr. Grey.

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

“You sure about this, babe?” he asks as you hastily finish your pancakes. You’re hungry for something quite different, for fuck’s sake. Your pussy’s so wet that it practically aches. “It’s not like we have a red room...”

“But we do have a very nice bedroom,” you tell him. He’s trying to stall and you’re not gonna let him. You’re ready to go. “Plus we’ve got, you know—silk scarves and ties, a closet full of all kinds of hardware supplies. So I’m sure you can... improvise.”

Charlie’s still acting as if he has to think twice. Blinks twice, with an excited little twinkle in his eyes. “Somebody’s eager...”

“Somebody? Both of us, baby. You know you can’t wait for this either.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready...”

“Charlie, I know you’ll take things slow and steady. I trust you completely,” you reassure him as you kiss his cheek softly and sweetly. “Besides, we’ll rely on the traffic lights code. Red for stop, yellow for ease it up. Green for go. They used those safewords in the books, right? Never read them so I don’t really know.”

“Then how do you know what—”

“Know what Fifty Shades even involves? Love, I’m not some kind of pop culture idiot,” you interrupt, taking his hand to guide him down the halls. You’re really not about to let him stand and stall. “And I may have looked up... a few things on Google. Being such a kinky bitch and all. Brainstorming new ways to play the role of your submissive little slut.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunts as he finally gives in to what he wants, suddenly slipping into dom mode all at once. Changing his tone, making you moan, slamming you up against the wall. Towering over you so big and strong and tall. “Who would’ve thought... who knew that’s what my sweet little girl is up to when you’re clicking away on your laptop? Googling filthy ways for me to fuck you up?”

You groan in desire as his dirty words start a fire. “Ch-Charlie...”

He reacts just as you knew he would, and his dominance feels so damn good. Last night he scolded you just the same, when you called him by name. “What the fuck do you call me?”

“Sir,” you instantly answer. Obviously. Filled with the urge to say more, like a good proper whore, since you feel more submissive than ever before. Thirsty for fifty shades of Charlie. “Thank you for reminding me, sir. I’m so sorry.”

“You better be,” he chides, sliding his hands down your shivering sides, then swiftly untying your robe and letting it fall open wide. His touch upon your skin is hot as hell and fucking heavenly. “Your place in life is to obey. Do as I say. To serve and pleasure me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, breathing heavily, as he cradles your face in his dominant fingers. “I promise I’ll always remember.”

You’ve known it to be true, since the day you first met him: Charlie Hunnam owns you, and you fucking let him. You’re fated to live for his pleasure and love him forever.

He reads all of the thoughts in your head as he slowly lets go of your face, slaying you with his blazing blue gaze. Though you moan at the loss of his fingers, the power and passion of his touch still lingers. You can feel it all over your sensitive skin. Fifty shades of pure sin.

And you love it. Want every damn shade of it. Already so addicted to the deep submissive state you’re in.

The next words that he speaks... make you so fucking weak. Mr. Grey has most certainly come out to play. And he is here to stay. To make you fifty shades of horny. “That’s a good little whore. Gonna give you the punishment you’ve been so desperately hoping for. Now run off to the bedroom and wait for me... facing away from the open door... naked and down on your knees.”

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

Yes, sir. Yes, please. You’re pretty sure your cunt is leaking all over the floor as you obey your master’s orders, flinging your robe off your shoulders, stripping down and sitting back upon your heels.

It’s not the first time Charlie’s ordered you to kneel—but this right now... just hits different somehow. He’s so hot it’s unreal, too dominant for you to even deal. And you’re obsessed with how insanely good it feels.

You’ve already lost track of just how long you’ve waited. Heart racing, breath bated. How much time has passed? It may have been two minutes or two hundred. You just know that once your man arrives at last, he’ll be all set to give you everything you’ve wanted.

The moment when he finally comes... you feel his presence from across the room. Exuding vibes of absolute alpha male dom. And you’re so desperate to receive all of that energy from him. You can’t believe how blessed you are to be his woman. Here experiencing fifty shades of Hunnam.

Though you’re dying to turn behind you toward the door to see how good he surely looks right now, you stop yourself somehow. Keep both hands resting on your thighs, with lowered eyes, head bowed. Still and silent, though self-conscious that you are breathing incredibly loud. You’re so fucking aroused.

As Charlie takes a few deliberate steps toward you... rests his hand against your head, stroking your hair and tenderly twining his fingers through... you already feel dead. Can’t stop some smutty sound from slipping out your slutty little mouth.

He then reaches around, to trace his thumb across your bottom lip, shifting his grip before you can even attempt to kiss his fingertips. Needs you to know that you are not to make a sound, till he allows. That he owns you without a fucking doubt.

He’s owning you now with the tone of his voice and the touch of his hand. “Y/N. I need you to understand... that you are mine to command.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathlessly answer. And the slut in you compulsively reacts, tilting your head back, in an effort to make eye contact. Dying to look up at his gorgeous face, to meet his gaze, as you profess the shameless fact: that you belong to him, in every way and always...

And yet your man has other plans. Prevents you from catching a glimpse of him before you even can. He had arrived with something in his hands—a strip of cloth, some kind of tie or scarf, silken and soft. He masterfully fastens it around your eyes the moment that your head tilts back, and suddenly your vision fades to black.

“Now that’s no way for a good little slut to act,” Charlie scolds, as he tightens your blindfold. “Shifting from your position? Moving without my permission?”

Ugh God, he’s so hot you could die. “I...”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sick of your worthless apologies. High time I teach you a lesson in proper submission.”

“Ohh, sir—” you moan as he pulls you closer, till the back of your head rubs against the huge bulge in his crotch. The prize that you crave so fucking much. The object of your dreams. You can tell that he’s wearing your favorite jeans, and his cock is so hard it’s obscene, bursting out of the seams.

Then he effortlessly hoists you onto your feet, the bare skin of your back sliding up against his upper body—shirtless, naturally—so that you can feel every firm ridge of his muscles and all of his raw carnal heat. “Now I know what you want... but what’s much more important... I know what you need.”

Those words murder your cunt, and it feels like time stops. Then the next thing you know Charlie has you facedown on the bed, both arms over your head. And he’s tying you up. Binding both of your wrists to the bedposts, with some fucking serious rope.

This is everything your inner slut ever hoped. And you can’t even cope.

He’s just getting started and already this feels so damn perfect you just want to cry. Fucking magic. You’re fucking ecstatic. Tears of pure euphoria rise to your eyes, fighting at the blindfold he had tied, dampening the fabric.

Charlie picks up on all your unspoken emotions, as he always does. He can tell that you’re buzzed and just wants to make sure that this isn’t too much. Leaning in near, to whisper sweetly in your ear. “How’s the traffic?”

“Huh...?” you reply in a hazy sigh, taking a moment just to realize what he means. “Oh—green. So green.”

“Mmm, good to know,” he smirks against your cheek, as you revert to being too horny to speak. “But we can always take it slow. Just let me know if we’re approaching yellow—”

All of a sudden you’re able to speak again, just then. The words are somewhat muffled as your face is partly burrowed in the pillows; you make sure that Charlie hears you loud and clear, though. “Hell no. Green means fucking go.”

“If you say so...” he smirks once more, kissing your cheek before he lifts off of your back, all fucking ready to attack. You both can’t wait for what’s in store.

Charlie has spanked you countless times before. With you facedown in bed, you would’ve guessed that’s what he had in mind—to slap your slutty ass red, then to fuck you from behind. Remind you that you’ll always be his dirty little fucking whore.

Today you’re hoping for a little something more.

And that’s exactly what he’s giving. This time around... the punishment’s bound to hit different.

You can hear the faint rustle, telltale sound of metal and leather as Charlie undoes his belt buckle. Oh, shit—surprise, surprise—for some of these supplies, he didn’t even have to venture in the hardware closet.

Everything he needs to exert his total dominance, he’s fucking got it.

And it’s everything you’ve ever fucking wanted.

“Know just how much this pretty ass loves getting punished...” he teases, taking your bare naked cheeks in his hands with a few tender strokes and squeezes.

If you had to guess—without being able to witness—he must’ve looped his undone belt around his neck to free both hands for just a minute. He must look so fucking hot right now. An absolute sex god like nobody’s business.

“This sweet ass will look even prettier in pink by the time we’re finished,” he says it like a promise, and you really hope he keeps it, to be honest. “You know I would say prettier in red, but...”

“Oh, no, that’s a bad word,” you murmur in playful laughter. Repeat the right color to make sure he feels reassured. “Green, sir. Want you to let loose and get fucking mean, sir.”

“Ugh fuck,” he murmurs, as you hear him smile while he slides the leather belt off of his shoulders. You can just imagine what the sight of you in such submission has done to his denim-clad cock. “You’re killing me, love...”

“But that’s your job. I’m the sub,” you remind him, well aware you’re coming close to topping from the bottom. Sort of. Whatever it takes, to get Mr. Grey to come out to play, to feel comfortable falling into his role as your absolute dom. “Now go crazy and get rough. I promise I want it, sir. Honest. I can’t get enough.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” Charlie rasps, slowly grazing the edge of the leather across the soft globes of your ass. “Once we’re done with your punishment... you know I’m gonna fucking wreck this perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, sir. Please punish me and use my pussy for your pleasure.”

“Motherfucker...” you hear him quietly mutter, scrambling to strip out of his jeans, because his cock is probably straining in pain against the denim, harder than it’s ever been. No surprise since your cunt’s also wetter than ever. It’s just so perfect that you two are getting off on this together. You love the way your dirty words have this effect on him, just as his do on you. You’re such a slut for Mr. Hunnam; the best thing is that he’s such a slut for you, too.

Once he’s finally naked and gets in position behind you, he takes a few seconds to soak in the view. Psyching up for what he is about to do: whip the shit out of you. Just as you want him to.

“Now with each lash that comes down, I want you to keep count. And need you to repeat the color. Loud. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you swear, yielding to his command, instinctively arching your ass up in the air, because you’re desperate for your punishment. “Yes, sir, I understand. Green means hit me as hard as you can.”

“You fucking greedy little cunt,” he taunts with a dominant sneer. “Who makes the rules here? I’m gonna go just as hard or as soft as I want.”

You realize you were stupid to think he would go so hard, right from the start. Charlie knows where your limits are, even when you don’t. He reads your body and your mind and sees into your heart. Knows just what you need even when you’re too focused on only what you want. That’s why you have no doubt that he’ll dish out the most perfect punishment.

And so he does.

From the very first lash on your ass... your breath halts with a heart-stopping gasp. You have never felt such a damn buzz. From the way the sensation bursts onto your skin, underneath the smooth leather, a blossom of sin, pain blurring into pleasure... you want this to just go on forever and ever.

Your master had given you orders, you somehow remember. “One...!” you scream, as you sink deeper into submission, so desperate for him it’s obscene. “Oh God, thank you, sir. Green.”

“Good girl,” he mutters, just before he treats you to another. Each hit makes your fucking toes curl. You are the luckiest bitch in the entire fucking world.

“Two! Fuck, thank you...” you wholeheartedly thank him again and again, with each serving of perfect pain, grateful to your dom for how fucking awesome it feels. It’s unreal. And you keep screaming green on repeat, to give him all the safety and comfort he needs.

He’s enjoying this, no doubt—his cock’s standing rock hard and proud—but this first time around, with each strike that comes down, Charlie is much more focused on reading your signals. Respecting your limits, especially when it’s so tempting to test them a little. You don’t really seem to have any with him, as far as he can tell. Which is epic on some level, but also scary as hell.

He decides when you’re finished, with getting punished, since you’re taking it too fucking well. All you want is more of it; you love it and can’t think of anything else. On your end it’s exquisite. Excruciating ecstasy fulfilling your every fantasy. All because it’s pain coming from him. Fifty shades of Hunnam. All because of how deeply you worship and love him.

If there’s one thing you love more than taking these whips from his belt, the sweetest sting you have ever felt... it’s getting ripped to pieces by his massive cock. Playing your lifelong role as a slut for Sir Hunnam to fuck. Taking him in your soaking wet cunt, letting him ravage you just as hard and as fast as he wants, rough and savage, dishing out some serious damage, till you both explode deep inside and all over each other at once.

Something about the hard passionate sex today, the way he wrecks today... feels even hotter after how you got to play.

Apparently he really likes it when you tap into his inner Mr. Grey.

You both come harder than you ever have, as his huge shaft unloads inside your hole and feeds your soul and breaks you right in half. Breathing in shallow gasps as you feel him fucking collapse, your naked back slick from the sweat off of his sculpted chest and his firm chiseled abs. His face is buried in your hair, and though you know how much he wants to unfasten your blindfold and unbind your wrists, so he can turn you over for a heartfelt kiss, and shower you with hours of loving aftercare... right now your man’s just laying there and praying for some air.

He’s just so perfect it’s not fair. You know he’ll spend the whole rest of the day talking through all your feelings, treating you to every form of healing. Endlessly obsessing over every mark upon your skin, like he committed some ungodly sin, compulsively asking you whether you’re really okay. And he’ll keep on asking no matter what you say. Although he also loves to play this way... deep down he’s doing it for you, because his love is pure and true.

And that was when you fucking knew: this man is way too good to take the role that he was offered yesterday. You’re here to help him though each step of his decision-making process, to respect him if he wants this, and support him either way—but you already feel quite sure after today that your man Charlie is quite honestly... too good for Grey.

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

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

Text

Ghosts [Ending]

Chapter 3 : The End.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Time Frame: Pre Apocalypse Warnings: strong language, crime, implied sexual activity. Summary: a few of weeks have past and you have been on the run with the brothers when you come across trouble. A/N: she a little longer than the other parts but, ahhhh, I enjoyed writing all three parts so much. Ugh. Thank you everyone who liked/reblogged any of the parts, it means a lot.

Read Part One Here. Read Part Two Here.

It had been a couple of weeks since you stole the money and you had been on the road with the brothers for a few weeks now. Nothing that momentous happened. You got to know Daryl a little more and Merle well, there wasn’t much to know that you didn’t already know. When you went to the store, Daryl would be right there with you, if you went to collect wood for the fire at night, he’d be searching with you. It was comforting knowing he was always there and it made you feel safe. The butterflies in your stomach couldn’t contain themselves every time he stopped you from going alone anywhere, you couldn’t deny the growing feeling you had for the man, even despite that way he acted like a dick in front of people because you knew exactly what he was like behind the façade. Tonight was no different, you had passed into a town where Merle had mentioned he knew some people that lived there and as soon as you set up the tents he left to go find them, he tried to convince Daryl to leave with him but he refused, claiming he was too tired but both he and Merle knew it was because he couldn’t leave you, not for anything.

The night quickly dawned on you and though the air was cold and crisp the fire that was going kept you both sufficiently warm as you emptied your tin bowls that were once filled with a questionable tinned, meat soup. Sitting in the grass, you laid your bowl down next to you before leaning back on a log you had found earlier, intended for sitting on. You gazed up at the stars and allowed yourself to get lost in the silence of the night but only briefly

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” You spoke almost in a whisper, a satisfied sigh passing your lips. Daryl bit down on his lip nervously as he watched, completely oblivious to the way his eyes drank in your every curve.

“Mmh” was the only sound he could even muster to make while he stayed hooked on your image. Your eyes fell from the sky and down on Daryl, you watched as he shifted his weight a little like he had just been caught cheating on a test. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his reaction, the butterflies making their appearance again. You managed to swallow a lump in your throat you never even knew was there, your eyes escaping his.

You both awkwardly sat for a while before Daryl pushed himself off the log and down beside you. You smiled in his direction as he shifted closer to you, his arm now laying behind you on the log. You leaned into him slightly, your cheeks burning up as you did so. You couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have found someone like him, despite the cost it came at. After all the shit life had thrown at you, you felt like this was life’s way of apologising. Despite not actually being his, he treated you as if you were. Hell, he treated you better than men who actually got to call you theirs in the past. Before you knew it, your head was cradled in the crook of his neck. You didn’t know it but his heart was beating faster than he thought humanly possible, the breeze blowing the scent of your hair into his face so he couldn’t avoid it. It was like torture to him, but he liked it.

You sat like that for a while, you didn’t know how long exactly but if it ended soon it would be too soon. You watched the fire slowly going down but neither of you moved to add more fire. You finally felt his weight under your shift and almost instantly you felt disappointed. That was until you felt his finger tips, gently cradling your chin, by this point the butterflies were going crazy, you wondered if they would ever stop now you knew the feel of his hands on your face. He looked deep into your eyes as you shifted slowly to face him better, getting lost in the pattern of your iris before he leaned closer to your face, planting his lips against yours. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, like he was waiting for your approval and as soon as you kissed him back he didn’t hold back. The kiss grew hungry and his hands couldn’t get enough of your body as they thirstily explored your body, you didn’t mind in fact you loved the way his hands felt on you.

You laid there in the tent, with only a sleeping bag keeping the cool night air at bay. You stared into Daryl’s crystal blue eyes as he held you close to him. Your fingertips exploring his face neither of you could hold back your smiles. Your hands now run through his hair as he allows his eyes to close. You had never felt so loved, not like you did in this moment right now. The way his arms and legs entwined with yours felt like home. You couldn’t believe your luck. One of your hands now falling onto his bare chest, you felt him squeeze you a little tighter. The intimate moment you just shared with him made your heart burst with joy, you had fallen head over heels for him. For Daryl Dixon. You watched as the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, giving you a half smile as he attempted to drift off to sleep and you decided to do the same. You pulled yourself closer to him and placed a loving kiss on his chest before nuzzling your face into his peck and closed your eyes.

Your tender moment was cut short when you both heard bushes rustle from behind you, your eyes shooting open instantly, though you didn’t move not immediately, you waited to hear something else and you did. It was a muffled voice. “Merle” Daryl growled, pulling away from you, you both scrambled to put clothes on and leave the tent where you were greeted by Merle falling over himself, completely out of it. How’d he even find his way back. It took you a moment to realise this wasn’t just the effects of alcohol, no you saw how his eyes rolled around his head as if they lost all control. Your stomach twisted as you watched his jaw swinging. The same look you showed your sister before she died plastered all over your face. Disgust. You watched Daryl as he struggled to keep his brother still for even a second. His voice seemed to break as he cussed at his brother, almost like he was holding back tears. You couldn’t just stand and watch him struggle despite the way you felt about the situation, soon you were supporting half of Merle’s weight on your shoulder while Daryl’s shoulders took the brunt of it. You both moved your way towards one of the tents and placed Merle down on top of his sleeping bag. Turning him on his side, Daryl grunted into his hands. You left the tent without speaking, going back into your own and picking up the sleeping bags that laid on the floor. Reluctantly you turned back to the tent where Merle laid slurring on his own breath. Chucking the bags in before you entered you took a sharp, deep breath pushing your doubt further away. Daryl needs you.

Ducking back into the tent you caught Daryl’s puzzled look, he thought for sure Merle had screwed this up for him but your warm smile melted away that thought. You sat beside him and pulled the sleeping bags over your laps.

“We’re gonna have to keep an eye on him” Daryl just nodded in response, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

“M’ sorry f this.” He groaned, his thumb stroking your hip as he propped himself up against the tent, careful not to put too much weight on it. You just shook your head at his words, your hand falling into his lap and allowing your thumb to mimic his.

“This aint your fault, you don’t need to be sorry.” You whispered back. You both remained silent for the rest of the night, in and out of sleep in fear Merle will meet the same fate your sister did back at in the trailer.

The next morning, Merle woke up first. The first thing he saw was you and Daryl, cuddled up into the corner of the tent. Your head laying on his shoulder and his arm draped down your side. He couldn’t help but smirk at the image, sort of proud of his baby brother for actually going for it. It wasn’t lost on him how Daryl looked at you... in fact in the small and few moments you weren’t in ears distance he’d tease Daryl about his obvious feelings for you. You both snapped up at the smallest sound of his sleeping bag ruffling. Your heart was racing, worried that when your eyes would open you’d be staring down at Merle’s corpse, you soon settled down as you saw the sinister smirk laced all over his features, staring at you. Daryl noticed his look and his hand slowly came away from your hip. Both of you shifted awkwardly as Merle’s stare never seemed to leave you. The way he made you feel when he was looking at you was intense and you decided you had, had enough and pushed to your feet to leave the tent. The muffled sound of Merle’s laugh now behind you as you went to retrieve some water from your tent.

Your hand only entered the tent before you pulled out two bottles of water, you heard footsteps behind you but you chose not to acknowledge them until you turned on your heel. It was Daryl, you allowed yourself to relax and even let a small smile pass your lips as he walked towards you. You handed him a bottle of water, once that hand was free you twisted the cap off the bottle and engaged in a rather large intake of water. You admired the way the cold crisp water eased your throat from being dry. Until you heard that sinister laughter again, only clearer this time.

“So it finally happened, baby bro got his dick wet!” you stared daggers at the older Dixon as he left his tent, you felt Daryl move away from you which only caused you to roll your eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking last night?” you finally spat at him, taking a couple of steps in his direction.

“Woah, pretty girl. No one said ya had to play mommy!” he laughed in your direction, it took everything you had not to slap the look right from his face.

“After everything that’s happened, you go do something like that! Are you really that fucking selfish or just stupid?” your words seemed to fall on empty ears as he only shot you a look, a look that said oh well. Just then you felt Daryl’s hands on your waist, attempting to calm you down and though you hate to admit it. It did.

Just as you turned to him the empty fields filled with a blood curdling scream, echoing and bouncing off the trees. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and tried to pin point the direction in which the scream came from. That’s when you noticed in the distance just behind the tree’s, a silhouette of a house. You pointed in the direction and without thinking you and Daryl ran towards it. You heard Merle jog along behind you both though he attempted to convince you it wasn’t a good idea, but you both ignored him.

Finally reaching the house, you saw no one but the front door was wide open and on the porch laid a mug and the coffee that once occupied it spilled onto the wood floor. You looked over at Daryl, the worry sinking in before you passed the door frame and into the house. Everything seemed scattered, books from book shelves had fallen carelessly on the floor, the coffee table was now on its side and other decorative items scattered along the floor, some coming to their fate, no longer in one piece. You both looked around for a moment before you heard the sound of something heavy hit the floor from upstairs. Your brain didn’t have long to catch up as your legs instinctively carried you up the stairs.

No one in that house was prepared for what you saw up there. No one. It took you a second to process what was happening. At first you noticed 3 children huddled in the corner, shaking and crying, your eyes panned down to what they were so afraid of. You watched as a figure of what could have been human was hunched over what you presumed to be the children’s mother, using its hands to tear into her skin and eat it, slurping on her blood like she was nothing but spare ribs. Your stomach turned and you had to hold yourself back from throwing up. You looked back up at the children, finally hearing Daryl come from behind you. You looked around the room to stop who or whatever it was, you located a fire poker and without any hesitation you started hitting the creature, repeatedly. It didn’t seem to react much until you started hitting its head repeatedly, you just couldn’t stop. You kept going until you finally saw what looked like brains seep out of the side of its head. The creature had finally stopped moving. You took a moment to look at it. It looked human... only dead. Like it had been dead for a long time, yet it moved. This is when you threw up. Daryl had made his way to the kids attempting to block their sight, shielding them from the violence you showed. You couldn’t move. You felt Merle’s hands on you, making you drop the fire poker. He was talking to you but you just could hear him. He kept tugging on you, trying to get you to leave the room but you just couldn’t. You finally snapped out of it when you heard Daryl shout your name.

“We need to go!” Merle followed up, now he finally had your attention. You just nodded at him and followed him down the stairs. You heard Daryl put the children in another room and told them not to go anywhere, you heard him explain that he would get them soon but they just needed to stay quiet for a moment. Merle guided you outside and let his grip go as he looked around for a car of sorts. You could tell now how panicked he was, he was practically hyperventilating as he frantically looked around the property. You too now looking around, only noticing now that you were at a farm house. It looked so peaceful outside despite the horrors you just witnessed. You kept watching in the distance as Daryl approached you.

“We gotta get these kids outta here.” He spoke simply, grabbing your face to make him look at him. “It’s gonna be okay” he said softly all you could do was nod. He let go of your face as he followed his brother who had spotted a couple of cars, near a shed. Merle didn’t spare any time breaking into one and climbing into the driver's seat.

You watched as Daryl pulled open the back seat and passenger seat doors. “Need to go get the kids” Daryl announced to his brother who rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Forget the damn kids, we need to go!” he snarled, working his fingers along the wires of the car to start the engine. You watched from the porch as they argued about the well-being of the children but your concentration was cut short at the sound of the tree’s next to the house rustling. There were more of those creatures. Your eyes widened as you started to run towards the car. You mind going 100 miles per hour as you try to figure out what to do. You knew you couldn’t get the kids in the car by the time the creatures went to the house, it wasn’t safe. Nor could you just leave them. You glanced back slightly to see how long you had exactly to save everyone and thankfully they didn’t seem to be fast. Once you reached the car you closed the back seat door.

“You need to leave now!” Your voice broke as you held onto Daryl’s arm, pushing him slightly to edge him into the passenger seat. You felt the resistance as he pushed back against you.

“No!” he growled at you but it didn’t stop you from pushing. “I ain’t goin’ without ya!” His voice was starting to break which only caused your eyes to fill with tears. Shaking your head as you finally got him to sit in the seat.

“There’s no time. They need me.” You pleaded with the southern man, your eyes spilling with tears as you attempted to shut the door. Daryl fought back, trying his best to keep the door open and push himself out. “Your brother needs you and those kids need me!” you shouted as you managed to close the door slightly, your strength over powering his despite how much he fought with you. “I’ll find you. I promise” you whimpered as you finally shut the door. Merle took it as his cue to instantly take off driving. Your breathing become difficult as you watched him drive away, your stomach dropped as you struggled to compose yourself but you had no time to dwell and just like that you took off towards the house.

It had been a while since you first saw the rise of the dead. If you had to guess you’d say about a year, maybe two. Cutting your way through a forest with a knife you came across an open field and there sat a shed. You allowed yourself to relax for a moment, finally shelter. You had been on the road for a long time and the sun was the hottest it had ever been. You turned around slightly to catch a glimpse of Cody. Cody was one of the children you saved back at the farm house when everything started. He was the only one who made it out alive after all these years. You blame yourself for letting those monsters get his sisters but you were thankful that at least he made it out okay. Though he was only 14 he sure didn’t act like it. He had to grow up fast to adapt to the new world. He smiled at you, thankful to have found the shed too. Though your victory was cut short by a sudden attack. The dead again, it had become routine for you and the boy to fight them off but they outnumbered you. You were only used to taking on maybe 4 at a time but you struggled this time. Keeping Cody at your side, you took down a couple of them, trying to keep them at bay so they couldn’t get their teeth or nails into your skin.

It felt like you were pushing against them forever until you felt the weight of one drop from your arms. The rest soon followed suit and almost instantly you pushed your back against Cody in an attempt to protect him. Looking around your gaze finally met a group of people, all with their weapons pointed in your direction. You couldn’t help but feel tense at the sight of people. Now more than ever you don't trust very easily.

“Put down your weapons” A man called out, you watched the group to locate whose voice it was that when a slender man started stepping closer to you. His gun still pointed at you but one hand held out. “We don’t want to hurt you” He announced. You found yourself in a sticky situation, the last thing you wanted to do was drop your knife but you did. Cody followed your actions and dropped his.

“Wait!” a gravelly voice shouted out beyond the tree’s. You thought for a moment you recognised it, your eyes darting around the group in hopes to see a familiar face. You watched as a man pushed through the small crowd, holding a crossbow. You couldn’t see his face but the shape of his figure was familiar to you. You didn’t know why but it felt comforting. He pushed past the man who held his gun at you and finally you saw his face. It was Daryl. Your body fell slightly as you saw him step closer to you. Your eyes welled up and you tried to catch your breath before you started walking towards him, each step faster than the other. Finally you fell into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. Your body relaxing at the feel of his arms wrapped around your waist. You stayed like that for a moment in complete disbelief.

Pulling away reluctantly, your hands cupping his face, your eyes darting around his face drinking in his features allowing a small laugh pass your lips. His eyes welled up staring into your eyes again, his lips curling into a smile as the reality of you finally being in front of him again set in. “It’s really you” you whimpered your eyes not daring to leave him. He dropped his head slightly, nodding a small laugh passing his lips now. He turned slightly on his heels back towards the group, they all just laughed slightly as if they knew exactly who you were. Like you were a frequent topic of conversation.

“Y/N” a voice cracked from behind you, allowing your eyes to pull away from Daryl you looked behind you and dragged Cody into your arms.

“I found him” you whispered into Cody’s long hair, Cody just held you tightly. He knew exactly who this man was. It’s not easy to forget someone who saved your life. He finally let go of you as Daryl turned back around to get another look at you though he was met with your lips on his. He didn’t fight it, he just sank into it, his hands wrapping around your waist as if it was second nature to him despite how long it had been since he last got to hold you. This moment right here was worth every second of pain, every fight, every restless night because now you were home.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfiction #twd x you #norman reedus fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n

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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

Text

Fools on the Dancefloor - Xehanort x Eraqus

So this was my first fic for the Checkmate zine before I settled on the piece that I did actually end up making. I hope you enjoy because I definitely enjoyed writing it.

Music Inspiration: Slow Dance cover by Ashestoashes

~~~~~

“Yo, Fleetfoot!”

When the pillow—his textbook—flies from beneath him, there’s a heavy THUNK and the boy in white jolts upright in shock. He finally comprehends the pair off to the side and gives his friends a cheesy smile.

“Hey guys. What’s up?” he greets, rubbing at the spot his head met the table.

Bragi snickers, but Vor is a little more serious. “You know Master Odin still expects you to know the stuff you sleep through.”

That goofy grin replies, “I haven’t flunked out yet.”

“You’ll be close if you keep drooling on your book.” Bragi’s upper lip curls back and he’s no longer keen on holding the text. “Gross! How can you catch up when you can’t even read the material anymore?”

“It’s a talent.”

“Whatever,” Bragi scoffs. Little Vor giggles behind her fist while the unimpressed boy throws his arms behind his head and leans his chair back on two legs.

“Are you guys ready for the banquet this weekend?” the girl asks.

“Not really,” Eraqus grumbles.

Bragi groans along with him. “Man, don’t we already do enough to celebrate the Scala founders? We already got the festival, the show, and the lantern thing. We really gotta add a bunch of dumb speeches and some hokey pokey? Why are we even going again?”

“Because Master Odin wants us there representing the future of keyblade wielders,” Vor sighs. “But I have to agree, it’s a little overkill on the celebrating.”

“Some representation we’ll be when only Fleetfoot has fancy feet,” the red-head huffs. “The rest of us’ll be out there steppin’ on toes and Xehanort will probably be flat on his face.”

Eraqus tilts his head. “You don’t think he can dance?”

“Era, not everyone has your prestigious upbringing,” Vor reminds firmly. “It’s a miracle the rest of us have some basic understanding of formal dancing, but Xehanort came from a world completely different than ours. And from the sounds of it, he wasn’t exactly popular there.”

The thought interests Eraqus; finding something Xehanort can’t do is pretty rare. “Yeah, but Xehanort learns pretty quick. We’ve spent most of our lives learning to use a keyblade but he caught up in less than a year.”

“That’s true,” Bragi agrees. “It’d probably take him less than an hour to master the waltz or somethin’.”

A hand slams down on the table, startling the boys enough that Bragi topples backwards. “That’s it! Eraqus, you should do a dance class,” Vor says excitedly.

“D-Dance class?” Eraqus stammers. Even Bragi, once he’s shoved himself off the floor, gives her a skeptical look.

“Yeah. Even if you try to help Xe, he’s not gonna accept it if he’s the only one. So what if we all went? Besides, I know I’m a little rusty.”

Granite eyes look to Bragi who shrugs. “I got the gist of it, but my folks never made me learn so I guess I’m in.”

Teaching Xehanort to dance—now that’s something Eraqus might enjoy. At first, his relation with the new-comer was adversarial, but as their competitions became more and more ridiculous, something stronger grew between them. There’s still a rivalry, but Eraqus began to notice a magnetism drawing him to his friend—a desire to be in his presence as often as possible. Outside that presence, he felt like he was lost in a fog. He spent his life navigating only what was right in front of him, but when Xehanort came into the picture, that smog rolled out and everything seemed clear. The pressure that comes with prestige fades, that outcast feeling he couldn’t shake slips away, and the jubilant act he used to put on becomes real—he’s truly happy when Xehanort is around.

Dragging him from his contemplations is the creaking door; in steps the very person that has no issue overriding Era’s thoughts.

“You guys do know class ended like thirty minutes ago, right?” he states, shifting the box under his arm.

Bragi rights his toppled chair. “Yeah, but we decided to hassle Sleepfoot here.”

“Guess what!” Vor shouts, hopping closer to Xe. “Eraqus is gonna teach us all to dance!”

Well, he hadn’t actually accepted yet, but he can only meet that inquisitive glance with a fool’s smile.

“You guys have fun with that.” The dismissal is so easy it pricks at Era’s ego.

“So then you don’t mind looking like a clown at the banquet?” Bragi says with his signature smarmy grin. Silver eyes narrow at the offender. “Unless you can actually dance—in which case, show me wha’chu got.”

Before Xehanort can retort, Vor tugs at his haori. “Come on! We’re all doing it. We’re supposed to be representing our school—we can’t be stumbling around.”

Once again, he looks to Eraqus as if he’ll get an answer but Era’s being dragged into this just as much as he is.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Great! We’ll do it tomorrow night after dinner!” the girl announces. “Bragi, come with me! We gotta find the others!”

“Alright, alright.” There’s a clear difference in the enthusiasm and energy, but the two scurry off.

“Those two are up to something,” Xehanort murmurs, watching the door close.

“You think so?”

“Yeah…” The suspicion fades when the youth in black turns back to Eraqus. There’s something soft there that churns at Eraqus’s stomach. “Anyway, chess?” he offers, holding up the box.

“Oh, right!”

The boys settle into their window seat, basking in the sunlight and pushing pieces across the board. Eraqus’s game isn’t up to par—his mind distracted with tomorrow’s endeavor. It’s fleeting, but there’s also the thought of Xehanort looking down at him, smiling, slow dancing. There goes any productivity he had any hope of having today.

~~~~~

Class seems like an eternity and Eraqus can’t even nap through it this time. There’s a strange excitement concerning his dance class bubbling in his brain. He has a habit of half-assing things that involve effort—usually just getting by—but he’d actually spent time last night rehearsing what’s been drilled into his head since he was little. Even his daily chess game with Xehanort can barely distract him from his impatience, earning him a lecture from the boy who won’t accept an easy win—let alone two days in a row.

Eraqus has never been early in his life for anything, he was even born a week late, but today is different; today, Eraqus scarfs down dinner like a starving man and rushes back to the classroom lugging a record player he’d borrowed from the Master. His heart is only just starting to slow when the door opens.

“I told you guys he’d be here,” Vor says loudly.

Urd smirks. “Now if he could just be on time to class.”

Eraqus laughs. “I had to get the record player running.”

“Oh my gods, he’s even prepared,” she gasps. “Did Hermod hit you too hard in class today?”

Not thrilled with the subject, Hermod urges, “Alright, stop teasing him. The banquet is tomorrow so let’s get started.”

The shortest classmate hurries forward. “Psst, Xe’s been grumbling about this all day, so you gotta give him lots of encouragement,” she whispers louder than necessary.

“Okay?” Era agrees questionably. Standing straight, he notices how awkward Xehanort looks just being here, not even meeting anyone’s gaze. “Um, okay. Everyone partner up.”

Vor hops beside Bragi while Urd nudges Hermod with an elbow; that leaves Xehanort—the person who needs the most help—without a partner.

Eraqus glances around. “Wait, where’s Baldr?”

“Said he already had plans to hang out with his sister,” Bragi answers.

“Oh…” Well this un-evened the odds, granted they were already playing with some strange odds with four boys to two girls without the dance teacher, but at least even numbers made it possible to practice in pairs.

“Guess I’ll just sit this one out,” Xehanort says, not at all irritated with the situation.

Eraqus glances to Bragi and Vor who wave him on enthusiastically. While he may have been a bit enamored at the thought of dancing with Xehanort, he figured it would be in fleeting moments of demonstration, not being partnered for the whole thing.

“Uh, no. It’s okay…I’ll be your partner.”

The pair gives him thumbs up but Xehanort looks less amused. “Seriously?”

The teacher shakes the doubt from his head. “Yeah.” He motions for Xehanort to approach. “Come on. I’ll do the girl’s part.”

Cautiously, the boy in black comes closer. Trying to conceal his nerves, the expert props up his partner’s arms in the correct position and slides in to take the girl’s stance. As soon as Eraqus’s hand meets Xehanort’s bare arm, the latter recoils.

“Nope! No! Uh uh! I’m out!” Xehanort blurts out, attempting to flee the situation.

“Ah! Wait!” Eraqus snags a fistful of black fabric. “Come on. You didn’t even get to the first step. It’s really not that hard.”

“I think I’d rather just make a fool of myself.”

“You’d…rather be made fun of than dance with me?”

The response comes harshly. “That’s not what I said!”

The fabric creaks in Eraqus’s grasp while he lets his eyes plead for him. Somehow, in spite of Xehanort’s stubbornness, it works and the reluctant boy turns back with a sigh.

Surprisingly, the class moves forward quite smoothly. Having done this before, the others require only some refinement on their moves while Xehanort is quick to catch on as always. The muscles in Eraqus’s face begin to ache from his uncontainable grin. Even as he’s correcting minor mistakes, his thoughts are teeming with the moments he’s got Xehanort’s hands on him and the static that buzzes across his skin where contact is made

Currently, Eraqus is in the middle of teaching the pairs how to dip.

“The girls should have most of their weight on the outside foot but the guys should still be holding them up somewhat.” Just as Eraqus begins to lean back, he remembers something. “And the guys should never—”

The end of that sentence was ‘lean over their partner’ which is exactly what Xehanort does. This shift in weight unbalances the boys and down they go. Air promptly evacuates Era’s lungs as he’s squished between the floor and his partner.

“Are you okay?” Hot breath ghosts across Eraqus’s nose.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly, the embers of a fire starting between his shoulder blades. Those silver eyes are so pretty up close, easily mesmerizing Eraqus.

Xehanort helps the boy back to his feet, but as he does, there’s a disturbance that tugs the teacher’s attention to the far side of the room.

“Shhh!” Vor hisses. She and Bragi are in the middle of harassing the other two, ushering the unwitting pair towards the door.

“Hey!” Eraqus exclaims, starting for their friends. “What are you guys—”

His steps halt when the grasp on his hand doesn’t release. With caution, he looks back at his fingers, still linked with Xehanort’s. His eyes trail up the opposite arm to the boy’s face, who refuses to make eye contact. Still, there’s the faintest dust of pink across his nose.

“Show me that one again,” he murmurs.

It doesn’t matter that Hermod and Urd are protesting or that Bragi and Vor are shushing them; absolutely nothing in this moment could tear Eraqus’s attention away from Xehanort. Without a word, he resets his stance, nudging Xehanort to take the lead.

It’s a little strange to be playing the girl’s part in such a formal dance—having been unwillingly taught to be a leader his whole life—but Eraqus ignores discipline. The lesson forsaken, he lets his body react to the signals Xehanort gives while his mind soaks in this little bit of bliss.

Having long forgotten their lesson, the pair slow dances for some time before Xehanort speaks with a crooked grin, “I told you they were up to something?”

Eraqus laughs in response. “Do you think we should tell them we’re already dating?”

“Nah, this is more entertaining. Besides, they deserve a little suffering for trying to meddle. Bunch of conniving foxes, all of them.”

“Us too?”

“Especially you.”

“Me?”

A spark shining in silver eyes expresses that adoration Eraqus used to confuse for less amorous feelings. Knowing what he does now, that look makes him feel so light.

“Hiding all your talent behind that clown mask.” Xehanort’s words hold insult on the surface, but beneath them, in that husky tone, is that admiration. “The skill, smarts, wit…all on top of just how damn gorgeous you are.”

Heat surges into Era’s ears. Afraid of turning into a real clown, he let’s his gaze fall to their feet. However, at the insistence of the hand at his back, the gap between them closes. His brain stutters briefly before the calm washes over him. The warmth against his cheek, the steady heartbeat against his ear—Eraqus soaks in this incredible comfort.

While the music floats through the air, the boys continue to softly sway. This would never fly at the banquet; they’re expected to be polite gentlemen and dance with all the girls—that and Eraqus’s parents would never condone this. He’s supposed to be a proper heir who will continue the family line. Xehanort though, he makes it so easy to forget those responsibilities. Besides, they’re perfectly alone right now, no prying eyes, no forbidding parents; the only thing Eraqus has to do right now is enjoy the moment.

“It’s getting late,” Eraqus murmurs, noting the moon lighting their tranquility. “I didn’t even get to teach you Scala’s traditional dance.”

“Now you decide to be responsible?” the other teases. “Why dance at the banquet tomorrow when we can dance here all night long?”

That brings a flutter to Era’s heart and, from the sounds of it, Xe’s too. “You know the Master is still gonna expect us to be there.”

“So what?”

This boy could make every one of Eraqus’s fake smiles real, all with very little effort. “For once I won’t be the biggest fool in the room, not when you don’t even know the basic step of the Choros Lucis.”

“Oh you’re still a fool; you just happen to be a fool with fancy feet.”

“I guess that’ll make us just a couple of fools on the dancefloor, huh?”

“Sure, but probably not because of the dancing.”

Confused, Eraqus lifts his head. His question dies on his lips, sentenced by a simple kiss that awakens an avarice in the boy. His hands leave their positions, snagging silver hair and preventing any escape Xehanort may have considered. This is everything he’s ever wanted; his whole life, he’s been starved for this unconditional affection. It swells so strongly in his chest he might burst—with a scream, with tears, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s in love.

For a while, the taller boy indulges him, but does eventually manage to break away, smirking at the resulting pout.

“That’s why we’re fools.”

#eraqus #xehanort #young xehanort #young eraqus #xehaqus

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Falling for you ( Falling from Grace ) Jungkook x OC

Summary : Friends with benefits? Or maybe Enemies who just happen to fuck? Areum and Jungkook love driving each other crazy, but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Author’s Note : This isn’t a chapter update. Just a snippet of how they met ;)

Two Years Ago ~ How they met.

“So, first day at work?” My sister gave me a bright, vibrant grin as she watched me shimmy into my slacks , struggling to yank the skin tight fabric up my legs.

I was half tempted to just choose something a little less form fitting but, Jung Hoseok, my soon to be boss was a hot piece of ass and I wanted to make an impression.

The kind of impression that would end in me , under him , horizontally. And him well, inside me preferably. God , he looked so hot in those fitted suits of his , dark hair falling into his face . That sharp as a blade jawline and that beautiful damn smile. He was so humble and friendly, which meant that he had a gorgeous daddy dick and knew exactly how to use it.

My sister, so attuned to my thinking , read my mind like a book.

“Don’t even think about sleeping with your boss again. That's how you got fired the last time remember?” She said sharply.

I rolled my eyes.

“I quit. Because he lied about being divorced. There’s a difference.”

“Still Hobi is a stickler for rules , don’t do anything stupid.” She warned.

I grinned a bit.

My perfect, holier than thou sister would never understand the thrill of good sex, I thought . And one look at Hoseok told me that he had bomb dick game. And men didn’t really care about rules when they saw my ass in this particular pair of pants. It was a theory tested and proven.

“Its not stupid to want to ride a gorgeous man into the sunset. It’s the only fairytale ending I believe in “ I said loftily.

“Well, I’m only looking out for you , Areum. I am incredibly proud of you for landing this job. Jeon Inc., is one of the biggest conglomerates in our country. You did well.” She looked annoyingly bright and cheerful for someone who had actually got up at the ass crack of dawn to make me breakfast and had then driven half way across Seoul to deliver it at my apartment.

I loved her with my whole entire heart but my sister had a tendency to sometimes treat me like I was still five years old.

Which I loved, most of the time.

But not when I was already running late for the first day of work.

“unnie, i love you but you need to go suck Seokjin’s dick and leave me alone.” I grinned wide at her and she turned an alarming shade of red.

“Areum!!!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you’ve familiarized yourself with all the Office policies, right?” Hoseok narrowed his eyes at me and I groaned.

“Yes.” i muttered, morose.

“Yes?”

“Yes sir.” I groaned. God, he made me want to kneel down and suck his dick but also made me want to knee him in said dick, at the same damn time.

“Especially the clause on interpersonal relationships in the office and the dress code.”

I gritted my teeth.

Ugh, no amount of daddy dick was worth putting up with being talked to like an errant school girl ,

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, we have a well stocked wardrobe department in the fifth floor. I would suggest you go change into a more suitable pair of work pants “ He waved his hand, dismissing me and I turned around, trudging back to my desk.

So much for nailing the boss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was a little awed that the company had a bunch of things for the employees . Things I’d never heard of before. There was an actual ‘nap’ room where you could take a twenty five minute nap , once a day. A wardrobe department for when you needed to change your clothes and a whole garden out in the terrace for team meetings that were informal.

Apparently, the entire set up had been designed by the younger Jeon kid, Jeon Jungkook. The whole thing was patented in his name and he was also a super talented digital artist, evident in the bazillion gorgeous murals mounted all over the office, all of them signed with a beautifully scripted “JK”.

I hadn’t met him yet but he was apparently incredibly smart, incredibly handsome and also the biggest man-whore in the entirety of Seoul.

Which fair enough. i didn’t begrudge good men the right to pussy. And if he was getting so much of it, he was probably good at what he did. That was cool.

What wasn’t cool, was him apparently leaving his cum stained fucking pants in the closet in the Women’s section . The same closet i had dug into five minutes ago looking for appropriate clothes , only to have my hands met with a damp, sticky white mess that clung to my fingers like ...well like cum.

“What the fuck....!!!” I screeched in disbelief, stumbling back and landing hard on my ass, shaking my hand in despair like that could get rid of the grossly disgusting mess that now coated my digits.

Completely out of it, I wiped the mess on my blouse of all thing, realizing a split second too late , what a bad idea that was.

“Oh, gross!!” I sobbed out in disbelief .

“You alright, angel?”

The words came from right behind me and i whirled around, surprised.

I got the wind knocked out of me as i stared at the fine , fine specimen standing in front of me. ‘

it was a face that looked like it was straight out of the most luxurious fashion magazines in the world. Beautiful ebony black hair that fell into deep, almond shaped doe eyes. Eyes that fairly glittered with mischief. He had a nice strong nose and a beautifully red pair of lips , quirked up in a wide smile.

“You alright?” His voice was perfect, not too deep but with a masculine cadence to it.

He was completely shirtless, grinning like it was going out of style, as he pulled on pants over his gloriously muscled thighs. I watched him carefully tuck his underwear in, before buttoning the pair of jeans up.

He was tall, just a little shy of six feet and had the body of Adonis, with broad shoulders, beautiful pecs and drool worthy abs that tapered to a ridiculously tiny waist.

I stared down at my hands and his eyes followed mine.

“Oh, my bad. I thought that was the closet for the used clothes.” He grinned unrepentant.

it took me a second to realize that it was his cum.

I was covered in his cum.

“What?!” I hissed in disbelief , staring at him in pure horror.

He held his hands up.

“This is not my fault. The girl told me she’d swallow every drop of it and then choked half way through-”

“Oh my fucking God...” I groaned in disgust.

“Although I’m not complaining now... Wouldn’t have met you if it weren’t for her... What’s your name, pretty?”

I stared at him, slightly slack jawed.

What kind of a man whore-

I froze.

No way. It can’t be.

“Jeon Jung Kook.” I said drily.

His eyes widened.

“Well now you have the advantage ....i don’t know your name.” He pouted.

“You should be in a cage.” I snapped, turning back to grab the nearest skirt. I moved to leave but he stepped in my way, blocking the path with both hands held up.

“What are you doing?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

Jungkook chuckled.

“Come on baby..Don’t be mad.. Its just a little bit of cum. Granted you did not get the pleasure of getting it out of me yourself but that can easily be remedied if you just-”

“You will not have a dick to cum out of , if you don’t move right now.” i warned him.

Jugkook’s eyes widened at that.

“Um... you do realize who I am?” He smirked.

“A man whore with bad taste in hook-ups? A girl who can’t even swallow? Really Jeon, how desperate were you ?” I smiled.

His eyes danced at that.

“ Not as desperate as I am now.... Go out with me.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not happening. Get out of my way.”

Jungkook let out an actual groan at that but he moved aside nonetheless.

“What??..come on, please , angel, just one date.....”

I shook my head.

“ I’ll send you the bill for my dry cleaning Jeon.” I flipped him off before stalking right out of the room.

“Gonna make you fall in love with me, new girl.” He called out from behind me.

I scoffed at that.

Yeah right.

Author’s Note : I had to write their first meeting okay???? I��ll update tomorrow or the day after .

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@unicornbabylover

@ggukkieland

@yoongisdragon

@aamxxrii

@brooky95

@apollukee

@taesgalore

#jungkook smut #jungkook fics #bts smut #bts au

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cottoncandyqueersworld · 3 years

Text

Please go easy on me....it's been a few years since I've written a story let alone letting someone read my trash writing.

Enjoy ~

A long and angry growl from my stomach bubbled audibly against the palm of my hand. On any other day I would have been okay with having to skip breakfast....even if it was getting close to dinner time....but we had been walking all over downtown Chicago. I was rightfully starving.

" Ugh! I don't think I can go on any longer.....I might die..." I whined, hoping for a reaction from the group but all I got was an irritated response from Kyle.

" For the last time we don't have time to stop and eat River.... we're so close to the performance spot and if we're even a minute late they'll -"

" What IS that smell?..." I asked cutting him off in the process. I began looking around to find where the sickly sweet smell was coming from and then I saw it in all it's glory...Rainbow letters spelled out The Yummy Tummy Co. The soft pink building was just screaming at me to come and sample there sweets. I wiped the drool from my face and whipped my head around and looked up at Kyle

" We don't HAVE to be at the park until 6ish. It's only 4:15 Ky.....give me half an hour. Quick in and out and I'll meet you guys there. " I even gave him a little pout but it wasn't enough. He crossed his arms like an annoyed parent with there child. I was losing hope until an idea hit me.

"C'mon I KNOW your hungry too....what if I get you something so your not all cranky when we preform huh? You wanna do your best right?" He raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"25 minutes and half a dozen blueberry glazed doughnuts.... we'll meet you there." I practically jumped in the air and raced to the bakery, barely doing cars as I crossed the busy street.

I opened the bakery door and a wave of sweet hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt a twinge of anxiety set in as nobody came to greet me....matter of fact nobody else was there. I was alone.

"Hhheeelllllllllllllllllllllllllooooo?" I called out, sightly annoyed that I was gonna leave empty handed. Right as I was about to turn around I saw a plate of brownies sitting on the corner near the cash register with a free sample sign poking out of one of the many brownies.

"Well....I don't think much harm will come if I just take a few....right?..." My stomach answered with a growl and I grabbed the plate of brownies and was about to sit down when I figured it would be a good idea to grab a drink too....I was about to play for thousands of people....I wanna sound good for all the lovely ladies out there I thought to myself as I scanned the room for something to drink and then I saw the customer fridge stocked with pops and teas but I had my heart set on the Cookies' n Cream milk. I heard kyles nagging voice in the back of my head saying that I shouldn't be messing with dairy because there wouldn't be time for a bathroom break but I shook the thought out of my head and looked at the clock on the wall... 4:17....oh I definitely have time. I sat down and licked my lips as I examined the feast in front of me. A large plate of brownies and 5 20oz bottles of Cookies'nCream milk. With a big smile on my face I grabbed my first brownie in dug in.

This was by far the best tasting ANYTHING I have ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. It was still warm and a just a touch under baked so it was extra gooey. The fudgyness of the brownie accompanied by the chocolate chips that seemed to melt in my mouth kept my tastebuds begging for more. After I finished that first brownie I chugged a bit of the milk and before I knew it I had a good system going. I'd take a few bites than take a huge gulp of milk and I continued this for awhile.

I began to feel my belly expand around the 5 or 6th brownie. I leaned back against the counter and patted my belly. I was starting to fill up fast but they tasted ssooo good. I unbuttoned my shorts, giving my belly more room to grow as I chuckled to myself. I was definitely a messy eater. Crumbs and mostly eaten brownie bits scattered all over. I had chocolate stains on my shirt that and the tips of my fingers. No doubt my face was covered in the choclately goodness. A satisfied burp escaped my lips and I gave my belly a little rub as I unzipped my shorts. I could telly belly was getting really bloated but to what extent I didn't know. I've always kinda had this fantasy about making myself as huge as possible. The feeling of my soft jiggly belly and massive thighs was always a little bit of a turn on. I felt my face heat up as I was making myself excited. I moaned as I felt all the brownies making their way through my digestive system. I felt as if I died and went to heaven. But before I could grab another brownie I head footsteps in the distance. My heart dropped. I wasn't alone after all. Before I even had time to react I felt hands bang down on the counter I was sitting infront of. Thank God for the ledge of the counter that was hiding me. I could tell my the groans and angry noises coming from whoever was behind the counter that they weren't pleased with my little snack.

"Who the fuck ate all the brownies?? Ugh I JUST made them this morning! I didn't even get to try this new recipe.....WHOEVER did this needs to fess up NOW!" The fiery voice demanded. I was hoping for a quick escape since they hadn't noticed me yet since they had come from behind the counter and I was sitting infront of it I was hoping I could just crawl out and quickly make a run for it but my stomach had other plans as a long low growl gave away my position. Shit. I looked up at the same time a very confused pair of thick glasses looked down at me. I felt my face flush. I considered myself a 'smooth talker' when it came to women but she was different. For once I had nothing to say. My mind went blank. She walked around to the front of the counter and I sheepishly stood up. There was a breaf silence until she asked

" Where they good at least? I've been trying these different recipes and I thought I finally got it right but I wasn't sure so I left them out as free samples" she was looking me up and down. I had forgotten that my shorts were completely undone and I could have easily put a toddler to shame with how messy I had ate them.

"Y-yeah they were amazing! You should DEFINITELY keep that recipe. " I finally had enough courage to look up at her. She was a hair taller than me, just under 6ft. She had dirty blonde hair that was down framing for face, and the most beautiful sky blue eyes I had ever seen. She had a Beatles shirt on from their '64 would tour, black jeans and combat boots. I felt my face turn another shade of darker red when I realized I had gotten lost in her eyes.

"I'm Kat" she said with a smile.

" River......my name's River." I said with a nervous smile. ' Jesus what is wrong with me? Why is she making me so nervous? Why is my heart beating so fast?' my stomach growled breaking my train of thought. 'why on earth am I still hungry???' I sighed and placed a hand on my belly.

" Guess I'm still kinda hungry.....would you mind if?....I mean I'll pay of course even though they're free samples I'd feel bad...Oh! And all the drinks......" I reached into my back pocket ready to pay the small fortune but I got no response from her regarding a prince. I looked at her again to only see she wasn't even paying attention to my words. No. She was fixated on my belly. her face was a little flushed with what I'd assume was excitement as she was biting her bottom lip. I quickly pulled my shirt down and began to button up my shorts. ' no worded she's staring at you she probably thinks your a fucking fat pig' I thought to myself. She quickly noticed this and her eyes grew wide.

" No no no please don't. I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.... Your belly is just so massive.....it's kinda....hot..." She trailed off as she took a step closer. My eyes widened in disbelief. 'hot?? She thinks I'M hot???' damn it. I was at a lose for words again.

" You think I'm....hOt?" My voice cracked. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.....

She nodded her head as she messed with her hair " Yes, very.....but you mentioned you where still hungry?"

"Yeah, but I don't think I can eat anymore brownies." I said sheepishly.

" Oh? Well lucky for you this is a well stocked bakery. Follow me." With a flip of her hair she spun around and beckoned me to follow with her finger. How could I say no? I shrugged and without another thought I followed her behind the counter. I could tell things were about to get interesting.

#feed me #stuffing kink #getting fatter #wg kink #fat belly #chubby belly #wg fiction #wg story

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years

Text

Midnight City AU

it took me forever to decide where to go with this chapter and i was literally getting fed up editing it 😭 i’ve been so busy with all the chaos goin on in my life rn too so yeah writing’s been feeling delayed over all but i decided to just finalize this one for rn and uhhh sorry if it seems funky or shortttt

//Chapter 3: Vanished

The next day, Trevor went back to Sterling Lake Park, after spending the night at Wade’s. He agreed to meet up with him there later, walking around the park with his earbuds in. As he threw himself down on his usual bench, he settled on listening to his usual playlist of his favorite songs. He scrolled through nosedivr once again, taking a photo of the lake. It was foggy, and the thick air sat atop the water. He liked when it was like that. A sturdy drumbeat thumped in his ears, making him feel whole. He paused it briefly, just to change it to a different song that was even louder, but with the lack of music he could now hear the crunch of gravel not too far away. He thought he told Wade to come later on? He looked up from his phone, pulling out an earbud. It was the guy from yesterday.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Amanda?” He asked, glancing around.

“Uhh she’s.. not here today. I kinda came to see if you were here. I wanna get to know more people at this park if I’m gonna hang ‘round here more I guess.”

“But she doesn’t like me?”

“She don’t gotta know.”

“Well aren’t you Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Oh uh, we aren’t dating yet.”

“Thought she was your girl though.”

“She is, she is. But it’s nothing serious. Not yet. And I don’t know what happened between you guys but you don’t seem that bad, so if I wanna talk to you that’s more of a her problem than me.”

“Huh.”

Today Michael wore an eCola shirt, which was obviously made to resemble their old logo, with blue jeans. He had on a pair of red sneakers this time to match the color of the shirt. They looked slightly newer, compared to the pair he wore yesterday. He dressed nice for such a basic style. Trevor on the other hand, threw on an old, frayed Love Fist t-shirt, and messy jeans. He wore a different pair of boots, some kind of knockoff of a popular name brand. A pair of purple lensed circular glasses sat on his head, the nose pieces caught in his hair.

“So.. uh. Mind if I sit there?”

“Not like I own the bench or anything, go right ahead.”

He cautiously sat next to Trevor, hands in his lap. Trevor started one of his other playlists up again, settling on a mix of Paramore and Green Day. He left an earbud out, just so he wouldn’t be completely rude. He mindlessly scrolled, occasionally looking back at the lake or casting a sideways glance at Michael, who was looking at him funny. Sighing, he paused his music, putting his earbuds away.

“What.”

“I.. nothin’ man. I just, I dunno. What is the point of coming here?”

“It’s a public fuckin’ park man.”

“I know, but you said that you don’t even really like the people here, so what’s the point?”

“There is no ‘point’ to it. I just like time to myself is all. These guys don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. They only start trouble when they see fit.”

“Ah… I see? What were you listening to by the way?”

Trevor stifled a groan, not really wanting to talk to the guy when he had time to freely plot his scheme.

“Pop punk shit. Ever heard of it?”

“Uh, no? I thought punk wasn’t supposed to be popular. Or fit in. Or whatever.”

“That’s merely the ideology, which I do follow, dear Michael. I just like the sound I guess. You know Paramore?”

“Not really. I don’t listen to that stuff much.”

“Then what the fuck do you listen to?”

“Not sure if it has a genre per say, but I like that song Radioactive goin’ around? Songs that sound like that I guess.”

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Trevor could only stare at him. Was this guy living under a rock?

“Uh.. yeah. Y’know what- never mind, what else do you listen to?”

“80s music?”

No wonder this guy was unaware of who’s popular now.

“Amanda’s been trying to get me into groups like the 1975. I actually kinda like them.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

“They’re not that bad to be honest. She likes that weird alternative shit.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, there is a name for that genre. Indie rock. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“How come?”

“You know, you ask a lotta fuckin’ questions.”

“I’m just tryna understand this shit here. I ain’t in the loop of all these trends.”

“Well, for your information I just find the style to be too slow and whiny for my taste. I like fast, upbeat, wild stuff.”

“Any recommendations then? I wanna impress Amanda by at least knowing one artist off that nosedivr thing she goes on.”

He raised a brow, not really wanting to share anything else knowing he would just repeat it back to her, but he shrugged and continued.

“Alright. Besides pop punk, I like experimental songs. Underground groups. Crystal Castles are my favorite.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Right.”

“If you want more indie rock shit though, I suggest listening to I don’t know, the Arctic Monkeys? That seems more like her taste.”

“These bands have such weird names.”

“I think bands have always been like that.”

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you didn’t like that stuff? How do you know the name of one of those groups?”

“Ugh… I guess I might as well say it if you’re gonna get with her, but we were friends at some point. She introduced me to those bands, but even then I didn’t really like it. We had a stupid falling out I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh.. sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. Shit happens. You definitely seem like her type though, no wonder she got with you.”

“What’s her type?”

“Heh. As if I’d tell you.” He scoffed.

“C’mon man, please?”

“Nope.”

Michael frowned, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Whatever. Not like I need to know.”

“You could at least pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do, bro.”

He sat arms crossed, turning a smidge away from Trevor. This was his opportunity to listen to his tunes again, but before he could Michael spoke up.

“Can I… can I listen to whatever you’re listening to?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna hear what you’re into.”

Trevor shot him a puzzled look.

“Uh.. okay.”

Wiping off an earbud, he handed one to Michael. He already had one in.

“Pick your poison cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Just a nickname I give people.” He shrugged.

Michael settled on his experimental music, actually nodding along to the sound. They were closer than a minute ago, and it made Trevor uncomfortable for whatever reason. Maybe because he was never in such close proximity to strangers, but the other part of him didn’t care that much. Michael’s eyes were closed, smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah! Reminds me of synth stuff from the 80s, just more modern I guess.”

He smiled back at Michael, appreciating the fact there was someone else who liked the music he liked. The two listened to a couple different playlists he had, up until the moment Wade arrived at the park.

“Trevor! Hey!”

“Woah. Who’s your friend?”

“Hm?” He pulled out the single earbud, turning his head around. Wade had clown makeup on, making Trevor jump in his seat.

“Fucks sake. Hey Wade.”

“Ooh who’s this?”

He wasn’t sure if Wade freaked him out or not, seeing as the guy not only had matted locs, but many facial piercings as well. And the clown shit. He stood up to introduce them to one another.

“Wade, this is Michael. Michael, Wade.”

The way Michael looked at him was like a kid seeing a zoo animal for the first time. He looked bewildered, but not disgusted.

“Hi. What’s with the..?” He wavered a hand in Wade’s direction.

“Oh! It’s jus’ clown face. Not tryna scare ya or nothin’!”

“Uh huh… man. How have I never been around these parts? You guys are real different.”

“You got that right, Mike.”

“Seems like I’ve been missin’ out. I hangout with some dudes who would hate this place if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll have to meet ‘em sometime.” Trevor chuckled.

“They’re real cool guys. Didn’t expect our paths to cross, but anything’s possible in this fuckin’ city.”

“Oh yeah. Land of opportunities, for all types of wackjobs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A hand tapped Trevor on the shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Trevor, but are we still gonna talk about the Merryweather thingy-”

“Wade! Shut it-”

“What Merryweather thing?”

“Nothing, nothing. Not important.” He said, gritting his teeth, glare strong on Wade.

“Okay..”

“But you said we’d talk about it over icecream!”

“Later, Wade. Not right now.”

“Fiiine. Can we still get icecream though?”

“Sure. Promise. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay! Bye Trevor, bye stranger!”

Michael lifted a hand to haphazardly to wave goodbye.

“What was that about?”

“I told ya man, nothin’. Just going over some plans we’re making.”

“Is it about that special event being held there?”

“How you know about that?”

“Mandy told me.”

“Mandy… yeah. Figures as much.”

“She got an invite, and wants me to go as her plus one. I don’t know if I really wanna go though, I’m still pretty unfamiliar with all this.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Seriously, what is your beef with those guys?”

“I told you, they start shit when they want. Taught ‘em a lesson and that was it. Nearly got me banned from this place, but it was kinda worth the looks on their faces.”

“You are.. quite peculiar y’know. Anyway, you mind showing more of that music? I was honestly gettin’ a kick outta it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He sat back down next to Michael, handing him the same earbud as before. He clicked on one of his favorite Crystal Castles songs, Vanished. As they were listening, Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey wait a minute.. I think I’ve heard this before.”

“You have? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“No, I mean yeah I haven’t, but that’s not it. The lyrics. Vocals. I’ve heard them in a different song.”

“Oh.”

“Lemme think, lemme think, ah… I got it! Pass me your phone real quick.”

His fingers typed in the song title fast, pressing play right away. It was an indie rock song, much to Trevor’s dismay. But something stopped him from complaining, seeing how Michael’s face lit up.

“Yeah! This is it, Sex City by Van She. Y’know, I honestly think that’s neat.”

“What is?”

“The fact that a song you like, samples a song I like! Who would’ve guessed?” He said, eyes sparkling. Trevor didn’t notice how bright they were until now. The eye contact, along with the lack of space between them, made him feel stuffy again. He averted his eyes back to his phone, trying to loosen up a bit. As the song played, he savored in the sound, shocking himself a bit. The rock sound was there, but had an 80s sort of feel to it. The song finished before he knew it.

“So.. What’d ya think?”

“You know my thoughts on indie shit. Wasn’t for me, sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you liked it.”

“Nope. Prefer Vanished.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I honestly think they’re both really good. You think that too, I can feel it.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

He switched the song over to that Grimes song he listened to yesterday, the two of them sitting silently. It was a pleasant afternoon they shared. Suddenly Michael’s phone went off, and he yanked the earbud out.

“Ah shit. I gotta take this. Mandy.”

“Gotcha.”

Trevor grabbed the other earbud, putting it back in. He saw Michael wave his free hand around, looking close to hurling his phone right into the lake. Trevor assumed he must’ve been shouting as well, from the way other people were looking at him. Hanging up not much later, he returned to the bench, as Trevor put his earbuds away.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

“So.. how’d it go?”

“She’s finally not mad at me anymore, but demanded I go take her shopping now. I swear, she’s gonna clear out my bank account or something.”

“How? You guys aren’t even dating.”

“I know, but I just can’t say no to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but I really gotta go before she goes back to being pissed at me. See ya around?”

“I’ll be here man.”

Michael stood up, storming away. Seemed like he had a short temper, huh? He wondered to himself how long he was gonna stick around, seeing how Amanda’s dating history was… an extensive list. He thought back to last night, when he had seen that post of them, remembering the fact that no guy stayed for longer than a week. It almost made him bummed, seeing as he only had Ron and Wade for friends. Lester too, but that was on rare occasion. Shit. The plans. What time was it?

“Ah, fuck me.” He muttered. How did he let the day go by so quick?

He shot a text to Wade, telling him to grab Ron and meet at some icecream place. He did promise Wade after all.

Ron ended up meeting them there a little bit later, apologizing profusely before Trevor told him to just sit down and shut up. He did just that, almost apologizing once more.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Who do we know that would help us sneak into that club to cause sheer utter mayhem?”

Ron raised his hand excitedly.

“I could get Floyd maybe-”

“Definite fuckin’ no. He would have a heart attack the minute he set foot in there.”

This was getting nowhere. He tossed his head back to look up at the sky. As he did, he saw a couple walking out of the icecream place.

“Oh fucking hell.”

Was this guy following him or something? He snapped his head forward, trying to be a little more hidden.

“What? Trevor what is it?”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down Ron!”

He made all three of them lower their heads as the couple walked away, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they were gone. As he did, he could’ve sworn he saw Michael looking back at him. The both of them turned away as quick as possible from the split second of eye contact.

“Trevor?” Ron repeated.

“It was nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

“Ain’t that the Michael fella I met today?”

“Nope. Don’t think it is.”

“Are ya sure-”

“Pretty fucking positive. Now, back on topic.”

The next hour or so still went nowhere. Wade had gone through two servings of icecream, and Ron started to get restless. Trevor was just bored.

“Ughhh there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Trevor. We’ll find someone, soon. There’s enough time isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not waitin’ til the last possible fuckin’ second to get a guy to help us out here.”

“But we still have time.”

“If you fuckin’ say so Ron.”

The three of them called it a night, as Trevor tossed around the idea of possibly getting Michael involved in his head. On one hand he wanted to out of spite just to make Amanda and the other hipsters mad, and on the other he didn’t want to screw up whatever new friendship he had started with Michael. Ron did say they had time to find someone soon. They weren’t exactly in a rush, but he still wanted to make sure their plan was concrete. They all went back to Wade’s, Trevor deciding to take a walk along the beach. He threw on the same playlist from earlier, watching the sunset. As he walked, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was going, bumping into someone.

“Ah fuck, watch where you’re going-”

“Shit, sorry man-”

As they spun around from the collision, he realized exactly who he had run into.

“Trevor?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck? Are you following me or something?”

“Huh?”

“This is the third time I’ve seen you today. What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, it’s a public fuckin’ beach man.” He said, mocking the comment Trevor had made earlier.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I didn’t purposely search for you, hell I didn’t even know you lived this way.”

“I do. So make like a tree and fuck off.” He said bitterly.

“Woah, chill the fuck out. What’s your deal? I thought we were cool man.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

“I just told you I wasn’t!”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like it. You just so happen to look for me this morning, and just happen to go to the same icecream place I went, and then I find you here? I mean Jesus-”

“I’m telling you, it’s all purely coincidence.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuckin’ hell man..” He mumbled.

“Y’know, you’re as fuckin’ stubborn as Amanda is. I already told you-”

Trevor balled his fists, before jabbing a finger into Michael’s chest.

“Don’t fucking compare me to her.”

Michael threw his hands up defensively, not realizing he touched a nerve.

“Woah woah, easy dude. I didn’t think it was that bad between you guys.”

He exhaled loudly, unclenching his hands.

“It wasn’t. Isn’t. Just.. don’t compare me to her.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard himself.

“Look, I think you’re cool and all but you can’t flip out on me like that. I mean we are just getting to know each other y’know. I can’t have you wanting to bite my head off like that if I just so happen to keep running into you. I really am just trying to navigate the area better, so forgive me if I came off as some sorta fuckin’ stalker. Amanda went home and I had nothing better to do so I chose to walk over this way.”

“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”

“So we good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, since we’re already here why don’t we just hangout or something?”

Trevor folded his arms, trying to look like he didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It didn’t really work though, because he actually did want to talk to him more.

“If you insist.”

“Alrighty.”

The two of them started to head in the direction of the boardwalk, neither one speaking yet. After finding a bench to sit on as the sun sunk below the horizon, the silence was still there. This sort of thing was bizarre for both of them in different ways. Michael never really frequented these parts of LS, and Trevor never really hit it off with any kind of stranger. Ron and Wade were exceptions if anything, and he had known Lester for a while now. Yet there was something about this guy that didn’t make him feel like he was spending time with a stranger, even though he knew jack shit about him. He might as well try to make small talk.

“So I-”

“So uhh-”

They spoke over each other while trying to start up a conversation, making things feel a little more awkward.

“Shit sorry, you go first.”

“Nah nah you go.”

“Um. Okay. So.. tell me about yourself? We haven’t really talked about much besides music.”

“Yeah.. right. What do ya wanna know?”

“I just asked you to tell me about yourself, so it’s your job to decide what to say.”

Michael gave him a sardonic smile in response to that, partly because he wasn’t sure what to bring up about himself. It seemed like they were gonna be here a while if they wanted to say the most basic shit you say when getting to know someone.

“Well, I ain’t that interesting if you really need to know. I’m guessing you already know about my whole ‘affinity for the 80s’ thing, like the culture n shit that came from it. Real sick stuff.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. Anyway, if you really want to know plain shit about me though, I will tell ya that my favorite color’s blue.”

Trevor snickered at that.

“Pfft, seriously? We’re talking favorite colors now?”

“Hey man, you said you wanted to know more about me.”

“Uh yeah, but that’s so fuckin’ silly.”

“Maybe it is, but what about you? You got one?”

“Favorite color? You kiddin’?”

“I’m waiting..”

“Uh huh… I’ll give. Always liked the color red I guess. Like, in variety. Not picky about something as childish as that.”

“What’s childish about that?”

“Cuz only kids exchange that whole ‘oh what’s your favorite color?’ thing. It’s like if I were to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is.”

“Hmm.. I’d probably say a T-Rex.”

“Oh now you’re just pulling my dick. And no, I’m not telling you what mine is just because you did.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you though. That was all you.”

“Mm… shut it.”

“You got one though?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Ah ah, I didn’t ask which one, I asked if you had one.”

“Well I don’t, so knock it off.”

“That’s fair. I won’t push.”

They grew silent for the second time that night, before Trevor mumbled something under his breath.

“It’s a pterodactyl..”

“What was that?”

He forced a breath through his nose, acting annoyed.

“It’s a fuckin’ pterodactyl. That’s mine. Okay?”

“Hah, okay. Any reason why?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation about getting to know each other man.”

“Ugh, I know that.” He said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I think it’s cool that they could fly and shit. I like flying.”

“You like flying?”

“Loved it.”

“Wait, you tellin’ me you fly? Like, planes and shit?”

Trevor winced at the words, regretting what he just said.

“I did.. at some point. Air Force shit. They said I was one of the best they’d seen in a while but I.. left. Sort of.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t exactly leave on my own accord. More or less got kicked out.”

“How come-”

“I don’t like talking about it. I know we’re opening up or whatever the fuck but that.. that’s still too soon for me to want to bring up. Especially to someone I barely know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, even though it really wasn’t. It’s not like Michael knew though, he really wasn’t trying to prod in a bad way.

It was almost pitch black by the time their conversation got to that point, only distant streetlight and the nearby pier lighting up their surroundings. The whole mood had shifted, and both of them decided to just break it off there.

“Hey uh, I’ll probably see you tomorrow man. If I’m with Amanda I think I’ll just send a wave or something your way.”

“Got it. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Trevor stayed put, watching Michael leave as he turned down a random one way street. This guy was tripping him out and he couldn’t pin point why. It was getting late though, and walked off himself back to Wade’s. He’ll save that vexed question for another night.

//ahhhhhh i rlly did not know what i wanted to do with this….,,., sorry if this wasn’t as good as the first two !! i alrdy know i repeated a bunch of stuff in there and i feel like it got kinda sloppy so again, soz (including typos or whtevr)

but uhhhh anyway yeah i cut it off here bc i wanted to continue some of this shit in the next chapter ig lol,, more stuff to come soon god willing

#gta v #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael townley #ron jakowski #wade hebert #midnight city au

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