#sniff his balls from the back… girl I’m cackling
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✠ Sanzu’s Gift ✠
Alpha! Sanzu x Omega! Reader
Cw: 18+ Material. Minors do not interact. Noncon. Gore. Omegaverse. Kidnapping. Mention of past abuse.
“Why the hell is there a pool of blood on your desk?”
“I’m working on somethin. Just.. give me a second would ya?” Sanzu’s pink tongue darts out in concentration as he puts the final touches on the gift he’s wrapping in front of the brothers.
“Yeah, and why’d you decide to work on this little project after hours? The custodians already came through. This mess will be here until Monday.” Rindou’s bored expression doesn't match his curious tone. In the dim moonlight, blood can be spotted on Sanzu’s gloves and speckled on the small box he’s currently failing to wrap. Once Sanzu sticks down the last piece of tape, Ran wastes no time in swiping it up for inspection.
“Who’s the gift for?” He takes a large sniff and eyes it skeptically. “Smells like another alpha. Doesn’t smell like you.”
“And how'd you know what he smells like?” Rindou’s question is mumbled and both men glance at the sudden tenseness in his posture.
“Y’think I wouldn't know what my coworker smells like by now? Or is poor Rin-Rin getting jealous.” Sanzu snickers at the blush Rindou sports as his older brother swings his arm around him.
“Fuck you.” Rindou pushes off of his brother and scowls in his direction.
“As I was saying. The gifts for my girl.” The attention swivels back to Sanzu and he smirks at the surprised expressions on both his friends.
“Your girl? I thought she fucking hated you.”
“You're courting her now? How the hell did you manage that?
With a small sigh, Sanzu flops into his desk chair and plops his sleek dress shoes on top, further messing up the grain of the wood. “I'm not courting her yet. That's what the gift’s for. She keeps avoiding me. Damn bitch.” His mumble is devoid of the lively air that the alpha usually drapes around himself like an armored coat.
Ran follows with a sharp laugh that ticks off Sanzu even further. “C’mon Sanzu. No omega cunt is worth this much. Just buy a whore or somethin. Plenty of desperate omegas out there who could use the money anyway.”
Sanzu shoots up from his chair with a deep growl. “I shouldn't have to buy a fucking whore. She's mine. Always has been. My name is carved into her bloodstream. She's my fucking omega and I'd rather us both dead then without each other.”
“Clearly she doesn't feel the same way.” Rindou mutters. And Ran’s hand shoots out to grab Sanzu’s shoulder before he climbs over his desk to tear out Rindou’s throat.
“Fine, fine. What’d you get her anyway?” Sanzu pulls back at Ran’s question and looks into his eyes. A deadly expression now covers the surface of Sanzu’s visage. And a cold sliver of a smile stretches his scars. Ran can smell the other alphas' bloodlust release unbidden.
“A cock.”
Rindou sputters at the response. Confusion and worry for his friend etched into the grooves of his face. “Well…her ex’s cock to be specific. She hated the bastard. Think he used to hurt her or somethin. He’s a pathetic excuse for an alpha.” Sanzu lets out a string of curses and spews a glob of spit at his feet. “So I just freed him from something he never deserved to have in the first place. He’s not a man. Why would he need use of a cock?”
“You cut her ex’s cock off?” Rindou’s eyes are wide and disbelieving.
“And balls.”
“You crazy bastard.” Ran is doubled over laughing now and Rindou shoots him a look of disgust.
“So all this blood is from his…”
“Right? Thought it’d be messier. Goes to show how small it fucking was. I’ve fucked omegas with larger pussies than his dick. Don't know what she saw in him anyway.” Ran cackles even more at Sanzu’s last statement. And Sanzu swipes the box from his desk with a grin.
“I’m headed to her place now. And both you two fuckers are coming with. There’s a chance she might not like her gift. And she’s a crazy omega bitch. If she gets upset.. I’ll need your help.”
Ran straightens at his statement. “Now? It’s Friday. I’m supposed to be halfway to heaven in omega cunt right now. Your girl can wait till after we hit the strip.”
Sanzu lets out a noise between a snarl and a protest, effectively establishing his dominance over the weaker alpha. “I said. Fucking now.” With Sanzu’s eyes filled with a bright kind of malice, both men reluctantly agree to shadow Sanzu.
_____
You’re surprised to hear the doorbell ring this late at night. Knowing that you weren't supposed to have company over, you stumble to the door. Assuming it's probably a next door neighbor in need of a favor.
“Shit.” The sight of the man through the peephole brings you no joy. Even less so when you realize you’ve unconsciously clenched your thighs at the faint scent of him wafting through the gaps.
“Sanzu Haruchiyo get the fuck off my property or else-”
“Fuckkkkk, don't say my full name like that, omega. Got me cuming just from the sound of it.” His head is thrown back in a fit of ecstasy and you almost have the forethought to slam the door in his face. Almost.
“I’m not your omega.”
“Right. Not yet. But I got you something.” Your breath hitches in surprise as Sanzu shoves the small gift into your hands. “Go on, princess. Open it up. Picked it out for you specially.”
Your hands shake as you meticulously unwrap the paper. It’s a wooden box, beautifully carved with intricate details of flowers on the top. You open the lid, expecting a piece of jewelry and your breathing stops at the sight in front of you.
“I’m sorry it’s a bit messy. I tried to clean up the blood as much as i could but who knew cocks bleed so fucking much?”
“C-cocks? Sanzu.” Your head whips up and you're afraid to ask your next question when you’re met with his pleased expression. “Don't tell me. Is this-?”
Sanzu scowls. "You recognize it? Guess I should have expected that. You were with him for a couple of years.”
The sentence confirms your worst fears and you drop the box. The appendage flops across the steps of your apartment, making blood splotches on the concrete. You take a step back but Sanzu expects this reaction and his hand shoots out to grab your waist.
“I'm not done with you yet, angel. The only cock you should recognize on sight like that should be mine. I want you sucking my dick till you’ve memorized the shape of every vein and the smell of my skin. I want the size of my slit burned into your little omega brain, till all you think about is when your next fill of cum will be.”
You make to let out a scream but Sanzu has anticipated this as well and a large hand shoves into your mouth to stop the noise.
“Uh uh. Can't have you alerting the neighbors. Ran.” Sanzu hisses. “Bring me the fucking rope.” Ran strolls around the corner with Rindou at his side.
“Thought you were trying to court her, Sanzu.” Ran roughly pins your arms behind your back and knots the rope tight against your skin to stop your struggling.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Sanzu scowls. Your squirming is no match for the strength of the two alphas. And soon your legs, mouth and arms have all been pinned into submission. Rindou bends down and grabs the wood box you dropped just minutes earlier.
“What do you want to do with her gift?” His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and he's taken on his usual apathetic tone again.
“Put it back in the box Rindou. Wouldn't want my sweet omega forgetting the first gift I ever got her.”
#sanzu x reader#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#sanzu haruchiyo#tokyo revengers x reader#tr x reader#sanzu x you#sanzu x y/n#tokyo revengers omegaverse#tw.omegaverse
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🌔🔥Miami Nights🔥🌔
Prompt: Roman’s little bossy attitude towards Y/N will lead them to one of the most sensual nights they’ve had.
Word count: Long...
Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader
Warnings: +18, smut, jealousy, a little bit of angst, “make up sex”, cursing, dirty talking (‘cuz we already know I’m a sucker for it!), praise kink and even a little bit of ass worship (because you can never go wrong with that! 😉)
Tag: @jibbles26 , @lustyromantic , @reigns-5sos , @mindofasagittaruis , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @ziasaph
Notes: So, the fact that I’m a lover of rough smut is no secret (I mean, have you seen the shit I write?!) but something that hits you different is a good old sensual smut! Just the intimacy and slow deep movements of it are just worth drooling.. I’ve been wanting to write a more sensual scene for a while so here you go! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊)You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉
My heels click clack fast upon the stairs as I make my way down to the first floor, severely searching for my phone around the living room.
“What are you looking for?” His deep voice echoed from behind me
“Jesus Christ, Roman! You startled me. I’m looking for my phone, have you seen it?”
“Do you mean this one?” He showed me my phone in his hand
“Oh, thank you baby. I-“ I stopped when instead of giving me the phone, he tossed onto his joggings side pocket.
“What are you doing? Give me my phone, please”
“Where are you going to?” He asks, ignoring my request
“My boss called saying he got a last time meeting with that big potential French buyer and asked me to help him with the translation”
He raised his eyebrows “And you’re dressed like this” He scoots closer, pulling at the hem of my black pencil skirt “Just to meet him?”
“I have to dress nicely. It’s a work meeting, so yeah, I need to dress in work clothes” I spat, not really liking where this was going
“Couldn’t you have ‘dressed nicely’ with pants?”
“What’s your point, Roman?” I ask slightly annoyed
“My point is: You’re dressed in a pencil skirt that will make any alive man stare directly at your ass, your cleavage is so deep that I can see your bra” He leans in “You’re wearing your Givenchy perfume, makeup, heels...all of that, just for a meeting with a buyer?” His voice had an incredulous tone to it
“Yes! I just told you it’s a work thing, how do you expect me show up there? With sweatpants and flip flops?!”
He’s still staring at me as he coldly said
“You’re not going out on that outfit”
“WHAT? Are you kidding me? Since when do you prohibit me from wearing something?”
“Since now!” He growled
I bitterly laughed “Sorry my dear, but I’m not one of our children! You don’t tell me what to do. You’re my husband, not my father!”
He closes the distance between us
“Do you really expect me to believe that you’re looking all hot like that for a last minute meeting? I’m not that dumb, baby girl. To me, that smells like there’s some other male trying to piss at my lawn and I don’t like that” His voice is dangerously low
“Are you suggesting that I’m romantically seeing my boss?” I ask in disbelief
“No, you wouldn’t do that. But him on the other hand, always had a soft spot for you. So yeah, I think he pulled together this whole ‘last minute meeting’ thing just so he can be alone with you. That’s why, you’re gonna go upstairs take off that makeup and that outfit and put on something less provocative”
“I’ve ALWAYS dressed like this to work! Even when I worked at the WWE and you’ve never had a problem with it before”
“I have a problem with it now” He growled
“Roman, are you listening to yourself? You better bring that attitude down! That whole ‘tribal chief’ gimmick thing is going up your head”
“You’re not leaving this house in that outfit!” He roars
“That’s nonsense! Give me my phone back, please”
“No” He calmly answered
“Give me my fucking phone, Roman” I spat
“You want your phone back? Go upstairs and change that outfit” He explained like if I was a kid
“Give me my phone!” I try to grab the phone out of his side pocket, but before I could, he grabbed my wrists forcefully. Locking them in his grip, behind my back.
“Oh, you’re in big trouble now” He devilishly laugh
I try to release my wrists from his grip but it was too tight
“Roman, let me go”
“Why should I? I mean, you were brave enough to try to take your phone away from me, so you can be brave enough to free yourself”
I try to pull on my wrists but the more I try to the harder he grips
“Roman, you’re gonna hurt me, let.me.go” I punctuated so maybe he’ll understand
“Stop fighting then!” He pushes me forward with the hand that is on my back securing my wrists, I tripped and he holds me in place by my ass, with his free hand
“This is mine” He slaps my ass forcefully, making me look up at him with pure hatred
“Don’t give me that look” He warned
“You’re gonna make me loose my job!” I start to fight against his firm grip, in despair to release myself
Roman then holds my body against his by my waist
“Behave” He chuckled
I was already pretty annoyed, to be honest, so I spat
“If you don’t let me go, I swear to God I’ll forget that you are my husband and I’m gonna kick your balls so hard, they’re gonna fly out of your mouth!”
He stares at me and let me go
“My phone, please” I reach out my hand so he can place the phone in it, which he obliged.
The front door opened and the kids ran inside like maniacs followed by Jey, who’s holding some bags from the local Candy Shop.
“This isn’t over yet” Roman whispered
“Man, I tell you, the amount of candy that shop has is out of this world!” He chuckled while chewing on something covered in chocolate. He looked at us and said
“Uh oh, I feel some tension...Did I had a bad timing?”
“No, Jey” I say “You couldn’t have a better timing not even if you tried to!” I look away from Roman to get my hand bag and the kids ran to us to show what uncle Jey had bought them.
...................................................................
I came home around 10 p.m. The reunion was a success and we had managed to close a deal with one of the French buyers we were hoping to get a contract with. He was in Vancouver for business and was able to attend the meeting through a video conference.
One part of me was excited to tell Roman about it because he knew how much that contract would help me in both career and money wise. But the other part of me was still mad at him for that little stunt he put up earlier.
I walk through the living room to place my hand bag and phone at the coffee table when the lamp by the armchair went on.
“Did you had fun?” Roman asked with a cold voice
“Sweet Lord, Roman! Do you want to kill me?”
“It must have been quite fun, I mean, for you to have came back home just now”
“You do know there’s a timezone of -3 hours from Vancouver to Florida right?”
“I didn’t asked that, I asked if you had fun”
I look at him in disbelief and say
“Look, I don’t know what’s up with the whole Samoan Don Corleone thing, but I’m really tired” I sighed
“Come here Y/N”
“What? You’re gonna ask me to kiss your ring too, Don Samoan?” I mock
He cackled at my little joke and stood up from the armchair, walking towards me.
“You and your clever little mouth, right baby? Always putting yourself in trouble with those pretty lips” His smile fade-away and he quickly pulled my head up by my hair
“I think you’re forgetting that you’re walking on thin ice right now and I wouldn’t test me if I were you”
“Where are the kids?” I ask faintly
“At Jey’s, for a sleep over” His smile is now purely evil
“Did you planned this, then?”
“C’mon baby, how are you gonna be able to scream my name while I fuck you senseless if the kids are at home?�� He leans in to sniff the nape of my neck
“I love when you wear this perfume, it drives me crazy! It makes me want to fuck you all night long” He sucks on my neck “You look good enough to eat Y/N. That skirt baby...it’s gonna be the death of me! Give me a 360, baby girl” He said, intertwining our fingers and slowly turning me around while whistling at me.
“What is this all about?” I ask, suspicious about his true intentions
“What do you mean?”
“The whole complimenting me for the one thing you made a whole fuss about it earlier”
“What? Can’t I compliment my gorgeous wife?” He asked innocently
“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying that I find it suspicious the fact that earlier we almost got into an argument because of this outfit and now your throwing praises at it” I crook an eyebrow at him
He smiles “You know me so well it’s actually embarrassing!” He chuckled
“Ok baby girl, you got me! I felt guilty, ok? I regretted being so rude with you earlier, you didn’t deserve it”
“So why did you do it, Ro?”
“Because I got jealous! I mean, the time we have together is short and it’s mostly taken by the kids, we barely have any alone couple time and I miss you! I miss having my wife, having you: Y/N! Not the mom version or the professional version of you, but just my wife. All to myself” He scoots closer “So when I saw you dressed up all nice like this, smelling so good and looking so beautiful I remembered how it used to be back then...when you worked at WWE and I used to sneak out to your hotel bedroom at night so we could spend the night together because you didn’t wanted people to know about us. I remembered the amount of convincing that I had to do, for you to finally agree to make us an official thing. How we thought that our marriage wouldn’t survive with me being on the road and you at home with the kids. How many times I couldn’t sleep at night ‘cause I got scared thinking that I could lose you after that fight we’ve had when Ben was born” Roman hugs my waist and look me in the eyes “I felt the same fear earlier today, I know that’s on me and not on you but... I couldn’t help it, I got carried away by my jealousy and I apologize for that. You’re a beautiful woman! Gorgeous face, delicious body, a goddess in the bedroom, strong personality, such a kind soul and a heart made of gold. And I’m a selfish man! I don’t wanna lose you, I can’t afford to lose you...I want you all to myself, body and soul” He leans in to capture my lips in the most romantic, sensual, long kiss.
“Do you forgive me?” He whispered
“I don’t know...maybe I need some more convincing” I tease him and he laughed, knowing it was all good between us
“What can I do to convince you, baby?”
“Lose the shirt and the pants and sit on the armchair”
He happily obliged, sitting on the armchair with eyes filled with excitement
“Can you help me with this?” I point towards the skirt’s zipper innocently
He smirked and I got closer to the chair. Roman reaches the zipper, pulling it down torturously slow.
“Take it off, Ro”
He slowly pulls it down, savoring every inch of my ass being exposed to him, with each tug at the skirt he nibs and kisses the recently discovered skin. And I couldn’t be happier to be wearing a new lace set in a beautiful midnight blue shade.
The skirt became a pile of fabric around my ankles as Roman growls: squeezing, biting, licking and kissing my ass while I take off my white dress shirt.
“Fuck Y/N, baby...I’m in love with your ass”
I giggled at his choice of words
“It looks so fucking good in this blue color. Is this a new set?” He asks, still kissing and biting it.
“Yeah, I bought it last week. I thought it looked good so-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence due to the forceful tug he gave my hips so I could sit down on his lap.
“It looks insanely good, baby” He whispered in my ear, kneading my breasts softly through the lace.
“And the bra too...they make your boobs look full as fuck! I love it”
I feel his erection resting against my ass and I can’t help but grind my hips to it.
“Hmmm baby, you’re so hot, so fucking hot. The hottest woman I’ve ever met” He pressed my hips further down to his bulge
“You never fail to turn me on baby girl, you’ve always had the power to make my cock rock hard for you”
“Just for me?” I ask with a voice raspy from pleasure, reaching my arm around his neck so I can pull his lips towards my ear
“Always just for you, baby. Ever since he tasted you, he got addicted and wants only you” Roman whispered
His voice always worked wonders on me. How deep his voice is, the things he says...it was always an infallible combination.
We explored each other’s body until we couldn’t wait it anymore.
I stand up to remove my lace panties and bra and he loses his boxer briefs, sitting back at the armchair with me on his lap. I lifted up a bit, so he can enter my core and oh, how I missed my man!
I start a front to back motion, holding onto Roman’s thighs for support while my thighs are closed shut in between his opened ones. I circled my hips in deep, slow circles from time to time so he can sink all the way in.
“Yeah, keep doing that baby girl. Fuck, it looks so sexy when you ride me like this” He moaned
And that’s my intention: a sensual, lustful, intimate sex.
Roman roamed one arm around my hips until his hand stopped at my mound
“Spread your legs a little bit, baby” He asks
I do it and two of his fingers start to rub my clit at the same pace of my riding.
“Oh, Ro...fuck me babe, that feels so good” I reach my arm back, so I can toss it around his neck, pulling him closer to me. The change of positions made his cheek rest against the side of my breast. I look down and see him staring at his hand on my clit.
“Baby” I wine, making him look up to me. And when he did I leaned down to capture his full lips in a deep kiss.
Once apart he cupped my cheek with his free hand
“I love you Y/N, so fucking much baby girl”
“I love you too Ro, the only man I’ll ever want” I smiled
“Promise me?” He asked
“Promise” I leaned down to kiss him again
I felt him twitch inside of me, a sign he was close to coming.
“Are you gonna cum inside this pussy, baby?” I smirked
“I can’t hold it back anymore, baby girl. You’re riding me so good and your pussy is milking my cock so nicely that I just can’t hold it” He laughs and kisses the side of my breast
“Cum for me baby, cum right on your pussy” I whispered in his ear
“Mine” He growled and turned up the pace of his fingers on my clit
“Yours” I moaned as I could feel my own release rising
Roman pressed our foreheads together as we reach our high in between moans. As we’re recovering our breath he says
“Damn baby, that was something!” Taking a deep breath in
“Did I just took your breath away, Reigns?” I chuckled
“Fuck yeah, that was the hottest sex we’ve had in the last 2 months”
“You’re unbelievable!” I laughed hard
“What? I’m serious! My girl is always giving me some breath taking sex” He said seriously, pulling me closer to his chest
“I’m glad you think that way because I already want a round 2” I sucked on his lower lip
“Oh baby, you’ll have the round 2, 3, 4, 5...’Cuz the kids won’t be back until tomorrow at 9 p.m.” He licks my neck
“Are you serious?” I whispered excitedly
He nods “I told you I missed my wife” He winks and take me on his arms bridal style
“Let’s go baby girl, round 2 awaits!” He laughed carrying us up to our bedroom
Where our night was just getting started
Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘
#roman reigns one shot#roman reigns x reader#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns smut#roman reigns imagine#roman reigns#wwe x reader#wwe smut#wwe imagine#wwe one shot#wwe fanfiction#masochist writes
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Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333
Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!
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You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜
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“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”
Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.
“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”
“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.
“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”
“That is neither here, nor there.”
“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”
“You’re a twat.”
“And you’re acting dodgy.”
“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.
“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.
“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”
“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”
“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”
“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”
“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”
“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”
“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.
“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”
“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”
“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.
“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”
“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”
“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”
“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”
“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”
“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”
“She’s the only one who understands me.”
“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”
“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.
“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.
.-
There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.
That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.
The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.
“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.
“Uncle Pads!”
Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.
“Am I coming to yours then?”
“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.
“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”
Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.
“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.
Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.
“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.
Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.
“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”
“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”
“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”
“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.
“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”
“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”
The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”
And fuck.
Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.
Damn it.
.-
Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.
It’s totally fine.
That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.
“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.
“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.
“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”
“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.
“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.
“Knew that he is exactly your type?”
“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.
“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”
“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”
“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”
Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”
“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”
“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”
“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”
“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.
“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”
“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.
“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.
“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.
“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.
“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”
“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.
“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“
“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”
Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”
“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”
The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.
“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.
“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”
“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.
“I think it’d be cool if you did.”
And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”
“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”
Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.
“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”
“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.
.-
That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!
“Mr Black, twice in one week?”
“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.
“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.
“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.
“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”
Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”
“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.
“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”
Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.
“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”
“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.
Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.
“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”
“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.
.-
~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜
#WOLFSTAR#REMUS LUPIN#SIRIUS BLACK#WOLFSTAR FLUFF#SIRIUSXREMUS#REMUSXSIRIUS#THE HARRY POTTER SERIES#MARAUDERS#HARRY POTTER SERIES#spilt ink
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Warning: straight crack
Masterlist | Request rules | Gen. Taglist
Wildchild memelord reader meeting the guys for the first time and love at first sight:
Bakugou Katsuki:
You bump into him
“WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING EXTRA!!!!”
Boom boom, fingy explosions, boom boom
Gets in yo face
Not in the sexy way tho😔✊
You back up slightly
“I have a thick skin but dude you are scary scary”
Does that cute confused thing^
Like no one has said that straight to his face, and not with such nonchalance either
He respects it
But he’s still confused
“W-what??”
“Also sir please get outta my bubble, I mean I don’t mind a hot guy getting all up in my space but like consent is sexc ya feel?”
You’re an idiot.
Katsuki likes idiots (bakusqaud cough)
“And that’s how your father met me kids😌💅✨”
“Y/n I’m older than you”
“Kiri shut up, don’t ruin the story of mom and dad meeting🥺”
Todoroki Shouto:
You come up to him after the sports festival
“Ay yo! That’s the ice zuko!”
Ice zuko??? What’s a zuko???
You grab his hands in that whole “I’m praying with/for you” position
“I believe in your redemption arc!! You got this Ice zuko!!”
“My name is shouto todoroki??? What’s a zuko???”
He ends up in some random strangers, yours, house binging Avatar the next few days.
and that’s the story of how you met your future hubby
and how y’all went to comic-con in Zuko and Mai cosplay
and how your three kids were named
“Alright Zuko, Aang, and Iroh let’s go to bed”
“I can’t believe you named your kids that”
“Shut up Midoriya, when you meet the love of your life through a show then you can talk”
Kirishima Eijirou:
You bumped into him at the mall
And fell into the fountain
He helped you out apologizing
“Ya know, I don’t think this is how you get a girl wet sir”
“Agsjsghsjs w-w-whAt”
*voice crack bAybEE*
“Ya I mean usually you take her out to dinner or y’all watch a movie then you lure her to the bed-“
“mAAAM PLEA-“
“I mean that’s how it goes in all the wattpad lemons hm. Not gonna lie tho, the view of you-“
Licks lips
“Is all I need”
Kirishima_Eijirou.exe stopped working
Wait or Restart?
“Yes he will gladly take your number”
Bless Kaminari, after hyena cackling his ass off, he stepped in
A true bro😔✊
“And that is how I seduced your future son-in-law!”
“Y/n we talked about this- get better pickup lines cmon your game is weak”
“And Kirishima honey, I’m disappointed in your pick up line tolerance”
Midoriya Izuku:
You fell from the sky
Well not really you just crashed through the ceiling
Landing on top of deku your dazed face looks into his eyes
“Damn I must’ve crashed into hell because you’re fucking hot”
Izuku is blushing yes but he’s also out of it cause he knocked his head
“Then baby there’s no way you’re an angel cause you’re dripping sin”
I made that up on the spot and I am proud, wow my own talent astonishes me🤩
“I may be an angel, but I will gladly sin for you”
You both are two inches away from a heated makeout session but-
Cough cough
“Dudes the whole class is still here”
Izuku finally snaps out of it and promptly faints in shock
Meanwhile you’re mad cause
NO HEAD?! *throws phone, jumps and snaps a skateboard*
Doodling you number on Izukus forehead you skip out of the classroom and back upstairs
“And that’s how we met Miss Midoriya!”
“Izuku you’re all grown up”😭
“Mom whAT-“
Kaminari Denki:
This motherfucker also has wild child memelord energy
And wild children meme lords attract
Like put some meme lords in a mile radius of the other and they will sniff each other out eventually
So your first day of UA you run into the class in the middle of English
Point straight at Denki, him out of his seat pointing straight at you
“BRO!””PIKABRO!”
“Shawty let me suckle on them toes”😫
“Only if you allow me to break your ankles and put you in a skirt cause you remind me of my mom”😫
“BRO! FEEL free! Please lure me into your basement!!”😫😫
“I ain’t paid enough for this bullshit” present mic leaves the classroom💀
“And that’s how the mafia works”🤩✨
“Dad you literally told us how y’all met where did mafia come from?”
“Denki we raised a wack ass kid wtf”
“Ikr like who put the stick up his ass”
“Parentals I’m literally right here how are you guys adults I cannot-“
Shinsou Hitoshi:
So like everyone knows he loves cats right???
All of UA knows too
“Hola cat boy! Can you do me a favor???”
You walk up to him in a cat costume
Not one of the skimpy ones
Sadly
Like a full on cat in the hat onesie type deal
“I didn’t know cat in the hat went to UA?”
“I heard ya like cats, and I need you, so I am a cat
I am now irresistible you have to do as I say”
“You would have had better luck if you wore a skimpy cat costume but I’ll hear you out. What do ya want?”
“Okay right so this dickwad decided “yo let’s take panty shots of random girls”
and I’m one of them
and like he took the picture with one of my comfty panties
so the picture isn’t even cute
and I want it back but he won’t give it to me
so like can you do your whole Jedi mind trick and get me the photo back???”
“Lmao,,, what???”
“Wat???”
“So you get sexually harassed and you’re more upset by the fact that you weren’t wearing cute panties???”
“When you put it like that it sounds bad”
“That’s because it is bad”
“Oh yeah now that you put it like that it is bad. Can you fuck up his shit too???”
Mans beats the fucker up black and blue, shreds all the photos, destroys the camera, memory stick thingy, deletes all gmail account data then the account, destroys laptop, computer, hard drives, phones, 3DS, etc. etc. thoroughly
“Wow when you smashed his 3DS in his balls that was very hot”
Make out session over a half dead body: check 💯✅
“And that was how I prevented a man from having kids”🥰
“God you’re so hot, I could fu-“
“Y/n. We are literally in public with all of our friends. Stop being horny”
“I can’t help it you’re so hot yummy yummy man🤩”
A/n: LMAO I’m rereading this after waking up. I wrote this ten minutes before I went to sleep and it shows cause my god this is a hot mess💀
Tagged: @mssyprsn
#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#shouto x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou headcanons#todoroki shoto headcanons#bakugou x reader#katsuki x reader#kaminari x reader#denki x reader#kaminari denki x reader#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#midoriya izuku x reader#midoriya izuku headcanons#hitoshi x reader#shinsou x reader#shinsou hitoshi x reader#eijirou kirishima headcanons#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima x reader#eijirou x reader#shinsou headcanons#kaminari headcanons#todoroki shouto#kaminari denki#bakugou katsuki#kirishima eijirou#midoriya izuku#shinsou hitoshi
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single parent club | aobajohsai & fem!reader
summary: Oikawa’s gift from his fan club gives you the opportunity you never thought you’d experience.
genre: crack, lots of braincells lost here and platonic relationships!
words: 3.1k
a/n: guess who wrote this instead of listening to her online class? also @akasuns thank you for wanting to read more of my works 🥺 i’m really honored!!!
index
The early morning mist begins to clear, the rising sun casts a rosy hue across the morning sky and the birds begin chirping their morning melody to welcome a new day. Kindaichi breathes in the much needed fresh clean air, his eyes blinking blearily in an attempt to stay awake as he walks to the gym at the start of the Golden Week. He pushes the heavy metal doors of the gym using his right leg and sees the sun pouring through the windows of the school’s gym, making the gym glow in soft orange.
“Morning.”
Kindaichi yawns his greeting as he stretches his arms and back. Not hearing hollers from his teammates, he looks around the quiet gym, rubbing his arms when the temperature gets a bit chilly before finding the team’s libero and second year setter eating leisurely. He swears that he hears some sniffles from them, “What are you guys eating, Yahaba-san?”
The second year setter turns around and shoves a box of chocolates in Kindaichi’s hands, his voice muffled as he attempts to speak with his cheeks puffing like a hamster, mouth full of sweets. “Oimmffhmfmffh.”
Watari clicks his tongue in distaste as he shakes his head before sighing, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He raises his hand before slapping Yahaba’s back with a loud smack. Kindaichi pales when he sees Yahaba’s whole body shake, mentally reminding himself to never piss Watari off.
“What he means to say is that Oikawa-san gave us his gifts from his fanclub.” Watari explains while Yahaba wipes his suspiciously teary eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “He said that he couldn’t possibly finish all of the chocolates anyway and that he didn’t want to share with the other senpais for some reason.”
Kindaichi picks up a piece of chocolate and twirls the confection around his fingers before popping it into his mouth. His eyes widen when the chocolate immediately melts in his tongue, the sweet taste, the creamy feel makes him feel like a newborn baby, “Hey, it’s pretty good.”
“Right?” Yahaba sniffs his nose, “Man, I want a cute girlfriend to give me one of these chocolates too. Hey, Watari, how do I get one?”
The libero’s smile becomes tight as his friend begins to nudge his side with his sharp elbow. Watari silently grips Yahaba’s wrist, which made Yahaba yelp in pain, “Not trying too hard would be a good start.”
Kunimi hums in agreement, making Kindaichi jump, “What the hell, when did you get here?”
“I’ve been standing next to you the whole time.”
Kindaichi awkwardly nods his head as he averts his gaze from his glaring friend. His hand reaches for more of the milky, buttery chocolate while leisurely talking about their upcoming training regime during the entire Golden Week.
“Aw man, I gotta admit those are the best chocolates I’ve ever eaten.” Yahaba sighs as he pats his stomach in satisfaction.
“Do you reckon Oikawa-san has more of those?” Kunimi asks excitedly. Kindaichi raises an eyebrow at his friend, whose impassive face is in contrast to his elevated voice.
“We can ask him when he gets back–”
POOF!
The gym’s metal doors are slammed open and you enter with a wide step while greeting loudly, a quirk you always did everytime you step inside the gym. You look around the empty space, only finding a cart filled with untouched volleyballs, the net hasn’t been set up yet and an empty box decorated cutely before discovering four babies in your school’s volleyball shirt.
You suck in a sharp breath, feeling panicked and wondering if the coaches mentioned about bringing their children along to practice, which is impossible because they won’t be arriving until late afternoon. Walking slowly and cautiously towards the group of babies, you finally recognised the hairstyle of each child. You tilt your head in confusion, “Eh?”
“Is this a joke?” You asked yourself.
Just to be sure, you call each of their names loudly, making sure your voice resonates throughout the quiet gym. But only the babies reply in their gibberish language, which only confirmed your far-fetched theory. “They’re babies. I’m sure of it.”
Looking around and making sure that nobody else is in the gym, you let out an excited squeal, “I’m finally able to realise my trashy novel fantasies!” Wiping a stray tear with a finger, you sniff, “I’m a single mother now!”
Placing a hand on your forehead, you twirl around dramatically before falling down in front of the babies with the grace of a swan on the gym’s floor, earning happy babbles and applause from them. You silently lament about wanting to wear a fluffy long skirt instead of the school’s tracksuit, just so that you could feel like Snow White and the four dwarfs– you mean, babies. You keep a neutral face as you silently creep your hands towards the unsuspecting Yahaba baby while the other three babies are focused on the empty box in front of them. Lifting your hands, you tickle the child as you coo at him, laughter filling the gym’s empty noise as the baby squirms under your mercy.
The remaining third years finally arrive and they greet you casually before stopping in their tracks. “Whose kids are they? The coaches?” Matsukawa asks as he shoves his hands inside his pockets.
Shaking your head, you hand a tired, red faced Yahaba to the middle blocker, who then awkwardly holds the baby in his arms, “Nope. Guess again.”
Hanamaki sends a glare to a scowling baby whose hair is parted in the middle, reminding him of a certain junior who refuses to move during practice, but he decides against it, “Nah, where are our little kouhais though?”
Your body slumps as you groan, rolling your eyes before Oikawa steps in front of you and points at the babies on the floor. “Now, now, [Name]-chan before you create your monstrous sounds–”
“Hey!”
“–these babies are our kouhais, right?”
His question received no reply, but no objection either. Matsukawa silently settles the baby in his arms on the ground and slings a hand around Hanamaki’s neck before moving towards the exit. Iwaizumi crosses his arms and glares at the two friends, “And where do you think you’re going?”
Hanamaki raises both of his hands in a calming gesture, “We’re off buying food. For the kids.”
Matsukawa waves a hand with a smile on his face, “Want anything from Family Kart?”
The captain hollers that he wants onigiri, along with a few chocolate bars for their precious manager in case she decides to be a monster with all the groans she’s producing. Feeling annoyed, you pinch Oikawa’s side and flash a sweet smile when the captain cries in pain as Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t you just eat breakfast?”
Oikawa smirks as he manages to slap your hand away, placing a hand on his hips as he tilts his head to the side, “This is why we’re different in terms of height, Iwa-chan.”
“Huh?”
Seeing Iwaizumi already raising his fist, you quickly stop both of them before Iwaizumi proceeds to demonstrate violence towards impressionable children. The last thing you need is a baby fight. Silently panicking, you begin to think of possibilities of baby injuries– you know next to nothing when it comes to treating injured babies. Worse, the babies are actually the first and second year regular players of the volleyball team and for them being stuck as babies in the start of Golden Week. “Imagine explaining this to the coaches!” you scream mentally.
Iwaizumi notices you beginning to lose your cool, he pats your back, “We’ll help you take care of them.”
“Only you, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa pipes in.
In your eyes, Iwaizumi is your saviour, while Oikawa is nothing but dust. You stick your tongue at the captain, in which he is happy to reply with his own while pulling his lower eyelid. Iwaizumi grits his teeth, his body tensing before he sucks in a deep breath. His body visibly relaxes and he exhales slowly, the tension in his face begins to fade and he looks calmer than before. “Right, only I will help you, [Name].”
“W-whoa, Iwa-chan,” Feeling demure, the blush on your face sears through your cheeks and for a minute, you think your face is on fire. Suddenly, Iwaizumi becomes dependable, not that he isn’t before but– “That’s so cool! I’m totally living the trashy novel plot!”
Looking away shyly, you stutter your thanks to the boy. Oikawa huffs when he witnesses the interaction, taking out a ball and proceeds to throw it up in the air as he runs up to deliver a powerful serve.
“Oi, Shittykawa! We’re not practicing near babies.” Iwaizumi warns. The captain bites back his complaints and silently sits himself at the corner of the court, letting the ball drop and roll away freely. Seeing you and Iwaizumi being somewhat parental towards the first and second year babies churned something in his stomach. Watching you meekly hand over a Watari looking baby to Iwaizumi with rosy pink cheeks, Oikawa couldn’t help but groan, “Iwa-chan! Why are you helping [Name]-chan anyway?”
Both you and Iwaizumi turn to face Oikawa with unimpressed expressions. Feeling somewhat pathetic but his heart wouldn’t settle until he says what he has to say, Oikawa gestures his hands at you and the babies, “She’s a girl! Girls can take care of babies alone, right? Let’s practice!”
Iwaizumi widens his eyes in surprise before snickering, “Wow, Shittykawa. You just proved yourself to be a deadbeat dad.”
You’re also quick to rub the salt in the wound, cackling wildly, “Yeah, Oikawa.”
The captain gasps as he stands up, making his way towards Iwaizumi and sweeping babies Yahaba and Watari from his friend’s arms, “Hey! I’ve taken care of my nephew before and I can take care of Yahaba and Watari! Plus, they’re easier to care for~” he sings.
Iwaizumi looks doubtful when he sees Oikawa telling the babies that he wouldn’t be a deadbeat dad. Silently, he goes to Oikawa and helps him out by playing with the two babies with him.
You gasp sharply in surprise after discovering Oikawa’s real intentions. Standing up, you poke a delicate finger to his chest, “So that’s your plan, Oikawa!”
The captain merely raised an eyebrow while looking at you amusedly. “Oh?”
“You’re planning to take my husband away with your single father act!” Oikawa yelps as your hair smacks his face when you turn around, looking at him over your shoulder before scoffing, “Disgraceful!”
Iwaizumi blushes when he hears you call him your husband, he splutters, “W-what, husband? [Name], I–”
Before the ace could take a look at your growing red face after your bold claim, Oikawa laughs high and mighty with a devious look in his eyes, “It seems that you’re not a slow shrew after all, [Name]-chan.” He runs behind Iwaizumi and grabs his biceps, “But it’s too late for you! Iwa-chan will fall for my single dad charms in no time!”
Iwaizumi glares at his friend as he starts to feel uncomfortable now that he is the center of the attention. “Oi, stop it, both of you.”
However, his words are ignored as you gasp in shock and grab babies Kindaichi and Kunimi, who look very happy to be carried in one arm each. You glare at Iwaizumi with tears in your eyes, making the latter deflate under your stare as you whisper, “How could you do this to me, Iwa-chan?”
You are touched when you feel two pairs of tiny hands pat your face, it's as if Kindaichi and Kunimi could feel your sombre mood, regardless of their age. You make your way to the other side of the court with the babies, making Iwaizumi push Oikawa away from his arm, trying to calm you down as you let out sniffles of your crying.
Oikawa stands still as he watches his friend patting your back awkwardly, that is until he sees a coy smirk gracing your smug face. “Ha, I win this round, Oikawa~” your eyes seem to say.
There is no way Oikawa is losing to you.
He tries to recreate a dramatic spin he saw in the soap opera his mother loves to watch but he fails miserably as he falls down with the elegance of a chicken trying to fly. But Iwaizumi wouldn’t bat an eye. Grumpily, he lifts himself up and smiles when both Yahaba and Watari clap their hands for him. “At least my performance is appreciated,” Oikawa thinks.
“Thanks, Yahaba-chan and Watacchi.”
Meanwhile, Iwaizumi then realises that you’re fake crying because at this point, your cheeks are dry and you’re only blubbering instead. He looks up at the gym’s ceiling and sighs heavily, “Why am I even friends with them?”
A sharp cry pierces the gym and Iwaizumi quickly looks at Oikawa’s corner of the court, finding both Yahaba and Watari crying. Oikawa starts to panic as he pats the babies’ backs but they are unrelenting. He bites his lip, “What’s taking Makki and Mattsun so long? We might need to change their diapers! Pants! Whatever!”
Feeling spiteful, you giggle at Oikawa’s predicament, “Kindaichi and Kunimi are literal angels! They would never cry–”
Tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling from Kindaichi and Kunimi’s faces as they join the crying fest.
Iwaizumi stares dumbly at the floor while Oikawa laughs as you panic, asking the babies if something’s wrong. He thinks of his position as the team’s vice captain. When he first accepted the position, he didn’t think much of it. In fact, his first impression towards vice captains is that they are usually the ones who did nothing at all. Looking at Oikawa who is all but happy to join the babies in torturing their manager, Iwaizumi thinks, “Shouldn’t the captains be responsible?”
Then, he glances at you whose hands are flailing around as you are near in tears, “Managers too.”
But no, his captain and manager are both general annoyances, however endearingly so. Iwaizumi debates lying down on his back again, to have a silent mental breakdown with the chaos in the gym as a background noise, but he decides against it. Remembering how Matsukawa, Hanamaki and you were crying for him to survive in public, he thinks it would be best if he just went through this now instead of dealing with more of Oikawa and your antics.
“I think they’re hungry.” Iwaizumi helpfully informs the two of you after clearing his throat several times. Blinking twice, both you and Oikawa perk up, running towards your bags. You rummage your bag and find several boxes of Pawcky, “I have some Pawcky with me!”
“And I have spare milk bread with me!” Oikawa tells you.
With Oikawa and your combined strengths, the both of you manage to feed the children together without any fusses. With Oikawa tearing the food into smaller pieces for the kids, you quickly fill up the bottles with water in case they become thirsty. Iwaizumi becomes speechless at the perfect teamwork between you and the captain. The babies then soon fall asleep and the both of you slump onto each other. Oikawa grins at you, “Phew, we make a pretty good team, [Name]-chan!”
You beam at him, “For once you’re right, Oikawa!”
The both of you pat each other’s back and sing praises to one another as Iwaizumi sighs tiredly while he rests his heavy body against the gym wall. “Great,” he grumbles. The gym has become considerably warmer, with the bright light pouring from the gym’s windows, making the floating dusts visible to his naked eye.
POOF!
“Our children!” Both you and Oikawa scream in panic. Iwaizumi quickly stands up in action, coughing when the puff of smokes nearly engulfing the three of you. A familiar voice asks, “What, what happened?”
Watari rubs his eyes with his hands as the other three baby turned normal guys cough their lungs out from the smoke, he is met with the view of their manager and captain clasping their hands together, with tears streaming from their eyes. Oikawa holds your intertwined hands together and brings them near to his face, “Oh, [Name]-chan! They grow so fast!”
The dazed libero looks at the team’s ace questioningly, to which Iwaizumi only replied with a pitying smile, “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”
Only then, Matsukawa and Hanamaki return from their hours-long worth of shopping for food. “You guys sure took your sweet time,” Iwaizumi says gruffly. Matsukawa averts his gaze from Iwaizumi’s scowl while whistling a tune as Hanamaki asks amusedly “Eh, they’re back to normal?”
“Normal from what?” Yahaba asks but his question is ignored by his senpais. Poor Yahaba.
As a sign of reconciliation, Hanamaki passes a bottle of banana milk to Iwaizumi, patting his back as Matsukawa passes bento boxes around to the team, “Thanks for the hard work, ace.”
A loud clap interrupts the warm atmosphere and Oikawa stands up with his hands on his hips, “Alright everyone, gather up!”
“We are already gathered, Oikawa.” Hanamaki snickers.
“Hush, you.”
You silently stand behind the captain with a resolute expression in your face as Oikawa begins his speech, “I have realised that [Name]-chan and I are not really responsible, personality-wise.”
The atmosphere turns serious, the faces of the team morph into surprise.
“So, from this day forward,” you continue, “We’ll get our acts together and form a strong bond in order to guide this team to the nationals!”
“And crush the Ushiwaka bastard!” Oikawa adds.
Iwaizumi’s intuition rings “Dumbass alert! Dumbass alert!” but he shoves the thought away. However, Iwaizumi remembers the sheer chaos created by the two of you just moments ago, so he grabs a ball, just in case.
You nod at Oikawa and the captain holds your hand, raising it as he continues, “We will become co-parents to you guys!”
A fast ball hits Oikawa’s face before knocking off to your forehead. You cry at the burn on your forehead as Oikawa crumples to the floor, clutching his face in agony.
“Iwa-chan!”
Extra:
You rub the reddening spot on your forehead, pouting at Iwaizumi, “Violence against a helpless woman? I thought you are better than this!”
However, Iwaizumi looks dead inside, his voice low, “At this rate, I don’t see you as a woman, [Name].”
You gasp along with Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Your heart beats faster than ever, “What does Iwa-chan think of me, then?”
“You’re more like a–” he pauses, contemplating his words. He looks at you and your red forehead, you really do look like a sad piece of work. He deflates, “–an annoyance. But not really.”
Oikawa raises an eyebrow as he slaps Iwaizumi’s shoulder, “Huh? You called me a bug once when I really annoyed you, Iwa-chan!” He then nudges Iwaizumi’s side, “You wanted to call her a bug, right? It’s okay. [Name]-chan is a big girl, she can take it–”
“Thanks, Iwa-chan.” you grab a tissue offered by Hanamaki. “Being a bug is cool too.” you cry, blowing your nose as both Hanamaki and Matsukawa gasp at Iwaizumi scandalously.
“Can we get to practice, now?” Iwaizumi asks, red faced.
#haikyuu#aoba johsai#seijoh#fem!reader#haikyuu x reader#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#hanamaki takahiro#matsukawa issei#kindaichi yuutarou#kunimi akira#yahaba shigeru#watari shinji#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu imagines#oikawa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#hanamaki x reader#matsukawa x reader#kindaichi x reader#kunimi x reader#yahaba x reader#watari x reader#fem!manager#nad writes#seijoh x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu crack
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To Love a Libero (Nishinoya Yu x Reader)
“Maaaan, this sucks.”
“Nishinoya-senpai?” Hinata blinks at his senior, wondering just why the star libero of the Karasuno volleyball team was laying down on the floor with his knees tucked into his chest, his expression screaming of depression.
“I want a girlfriend!” Nishinoya whines as the rest of the team sweat drops as he hits the floor with balled fists like a child. Bokuto, seeing the commotion, comes over and puts a hand seriously on his shoulder before kneeling down to meet him at eye-level.
“Are you lost? Do you need me to find your mom?”
As the teams among the camp stifle their laughter into their fists, Nishinoya gains an irk mark at the teasing Ace of Fukurodani as said man keels over in laughter.
“T-The girls are coming! That’ll lift your spirits, Nishinoya-senpai!” Yamauchi exclaims as the libero helps himself to his feet, glaring daggers at his still giggling teammates. “Let’s watch them play a set, ne?”
As the boys all return to the stands to watch the girls compete, Nishinoya looks among them with a bored stare. Perhaps after being near Kiyoko this whole time, and it for sure would never happen, most girls didn’t hold the same effect on him. Even if they did, none really responded to his advances or showed any interest.
“Noya-San...” Sugawara puts a hand on his shoulder, giving him a nervous grin. “I can see your depression cloud getting bigger.”
“Hah? No way, I don’t need a girlfriend. Volleyball is life! Right, Hinata?”
“Senpai...you’re too cool!” His orange-haired kouhai flashes him two large thumbs up as Nishinoya laughs, a little too loudly. The two opposing teams from Fukurodani and Nekoma make their way onto the courts with no problem.
“Whoa...who is that?” Tanaka’s eyes widen a little.
“She goes to Fukurodani. She’s the libero for the girls’ team.” Akaashi replies evenly as Bokuto sniffs. “She’s also rejected Bokuto-san on numerous occasions.”
“She’s just blind to how awesome I am. It’s fine.”
You make your way onto the court with a small smile, blushing as the more louder boys on the Fukurodani team begin to cheer your name specifically, tugging your hair back into a braid as your team prepares for the practice match.
“Hm. She’s pretty short.” Daichi notes as Tanaka cackles, clapping Noya on the back.
“Probably shorter than Noya!”
Nishinoya didn’t reply as his eyes locked on your figure, his heart gaining an almost too steady rythym as you get into position.
Damn were you pretty.
That wasn’t what took him off guard though.
You deflected the balls the opposing team hit to the floor as if it were nothing, jumping up to do a cute little cheer every time you succeeded. You smiled at your teammates lovingly through the familial bond you shared with them.
“Noya...you’re staring.” Asahi grins down at his friend as Nishinoya feels the heat rise to his cheeks.
“W-whatever!”
Nishinoya looks back to your figure to see the end of the match had commenced, Fukurodani beating Nekoma with a gap of six points. His eyes locked with yours as your friend on the team was whispering something in your ear, a slight blush forming on your cheeks as you look away quickly.
“Uh oh, looks like she caught you!” Tanaka cackles even louder as Nishinoya sinks back in his seat, feeling embarrassed.
“She just plays really good...that’s all.”
--
“(Y/N)-chan! I saved you a seat!”
“No, thanks.” You reply flatly to Bokuto as the ace sinks down in his seat, sighing dejectedly as Akaashi coughs into his fist to hide his laughter.
It wasn’t like you had anything personal against Bokuto...it was just the fact you would rather reject him outright instead of stringing him along with false hope. You didn’t like him the same way he did you, that’s all it was.
Plus, you could never tell if he was serious or not.
You had walked into the cafeteria in the standard white shirt and dark shorts, blanching as your team waved you over to their already over-crowded table. You shake your head no with a small smile, motioning that you would find somewhere else to sit.
In a flash, the table to your right’s members all seemed to scatter at the same time, some dragging others as you amusedly watch a dark haired boy drag along the orange, spunky looking kid, telling him to take a hint as one lone person remains at the table.
Unsurprised, you plop your tray in front of the boy who was staring at you throughout your match, silently giving approval to the amount of effort his teammates had given to lead to this situation as they stuff themselves into bordering tables.
“E-eh? Where did everyone go?” The boy across from you had unique hair, you noted silently as you giggle at the fact that he was too engrossed in his food to notice the situation his teammates had left him in. When he sees you taking apart your chopsticks, you swear you can practically see the smoke puff up from his head.
“You’re Nishinoya-san, right? I heard you have a pretty good title for yourself back in Miyagi.” You make conversation, smiling warmly at the now nervous boy in front of you.
“Y-yeah...um! You played really well today! You’re defense tactics are super good!”
This startles you. You knew for a fact that Bokuto and the boys on the Fukurodani team liked you primarily for your appearance, but not once had any of them complimented your playing style.
“Mm. Thank you.” You shyly put your chopsticks in your mouth, a blush forming on your features at the foreign feeling.
From another table, Akaashi holds a hyperactive Bokuto in place, who was practically fuming. “What the hell is that atmosphere?!”
“Bokuto-san. Please eat your food. And be quiet.”
The members of Fukurodani chuckle to themselves as Bokuto sits down immediately, almost like a pet.
“T-then! I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N)...chan?”
“Tomorrow it is, Noya-san.” You reply happily, smiling at the fact that he said the honorific with much hesitation.
You watch him dart away, smiling to yourself until you suddenly notice that he had put his dessert on your tray, making you blush slightly as you unwrap the pudding.
--
The rest of the camp went by in a breeze, and you happily met for dinner every night to eat with Nishinoya as you two formed a more comfortable friendship with one another, Noya giving you the cheesiest pick-up lines to ever exist as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt.
Naturally, both of your teams teased you relentlessly, and when you two were together during practice breaks, it was obvious to anyone that Nishinoya had fallen for you. Hard.
The real question was, how did you feel about him?
--
“The last day of training camp is tomorrow.”
“Mm.”
“I go back to Miyagi in one day.”
“Mm.”
You both laid in the soft grass past curfew, Nishinoya successfully sneaking you out of the girls’ dorms with ease and a signal to be quiet pressed to his playful grin.
“Don’t worry! You can take me sight-seeing when we meet at Nationals.”
“Noya-”
“I’m like, not sad at all to go. Not at all.”
“Nishi-”
“Why would you even say something like that? Me? Sad? HAH!”
“Yuu!” You had sat up and pressed a hand to his blabbering mouth, watching as his eyes slowly become more saddened. Without hesitation, you pressed your lips against the hand that covered his mouth, leaving the unsuspecting boy in shock before pulling back.
“Just...hold me for awhile, okay?” You lay against his chest, listening to his thumping heart beat. “You might not be sad, but I am.” You look up from your position laying down on him, tracing patterns into his shirt. “Anybody would be sad to see the person they like leave.”
“You...like me?”
“Yes, dummy.”
Without a second beat of silence, Noya carefully lifts you off of him before hurling himself to his feet, punching the air excitedly.
“You like me!”
You’re laughing now, shushing him to be quiet until he kneels down before you, tilting your chin to meet his lips as he kisses you passionately. Your head spins as you feel something cold and metal being rested against the skin on your neck.
“This is a brand.” He says softly when he pulls away, admiring the glint of the necklace in the moonlight. “You’re mine, (Y/N).”
“This is why you disappeared that one practice?” You laugh, touching the chain around your neck. He nods, his eyes looking more confident than you had ever seen them before he reaches out to hold a strand of your hair, kissing it.
“Please let me cherish you.”
“I would be honored, Yu.”
He tackles you into the soft grass, afterwards, joy lit up in both of your hearts simutaneously as you hug him tightly back.
--
“Hah? What kind of libero love shit is this?” Tsukishima blinks in surprise as Yamaguchi swats his arm. The day Karasuno had to take its’ leave back to Miyagi arrived, and you and your newly minted boyfriend had broken the news rather sheepishly.
“NOYA!” Tanaka and Asahi lean on each other for support, tears in their eyes. “W-We’re so happy!”
“S-Senpai!” Kageyama holds a running Hinata by the collar, sighing about how he was surrounded by idiots.
“Weren’t you just saying you didn’t need-?” Daichi’s hand covers Suga’s mouth without hesitation, grinning at his Libero who wasn’t letting anybody ruin his over-the-moon feeling.
“Be careful, shorty-kun.” Bokuto mentions, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you naturally swat it off. “If you don’t make it to nationals, I’m gonna steal (Y/N) away.”
Noya’s eyes glint at the challenge before pulling on your wrist to make you fall into his chest, looking fearlessly into Bokuto’s smirk.
“I’d like to see you try.”
When all goodbyes are said, the Karasuno team leaves you and Noya outside the bus, your eyes welling up with tears as the realization of the dreaded day settled in.
“Hey. None of that.” You laugh through your tears as Noya swipes them away, grinning down at you. “I’ll call every night, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. And you won’t go to Bokuto-san because you’re lonely and I’m not there to fill the empty void in your heart, right?”
“Ah. That one’s hard to promise.” You say flatly, sarcasm dripping from your tone before Noya tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, gazing at you as if he was trying to commit your face to memory.
“Don’t miss me too much, now.” With that, his mouth captures yours in a loving kiss before he pulls away, climbing his bus without looking back. You laugh a little at his over-dramatic crying form in the window as Suga gives you a thumbs-up, signaling his teammates were gonna take care of him.
You give him a small wave as the bus pulls out of the parking lot, reaching up to grip the chain around your neck.
“See you soon.”
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Diego Hargreeves x Powered reader (Platonic Klaus x reader)
Summary: You and Klaus get very drunk in the Academy and have an absolute ball until Diego comes to take you home.
-Reader is from What a Time to be Alive universe
Masterlist
You’re with Klaus one night, he’s drunk as a skunk and high as a fucking kite all in one incredibly chaotic mixture. Diego’s off gallivanting around the city and you’re not in the mood for any late night crime fighting, so instead you’re chilling with Klaus in the Academy while Reginald is off on some business abroad, or at least that’s what Pogo told you. At the moment Klaus is talking to himself on the carpet as he stares wide eyed at a dream catcher on the far wall. You’re laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling, your mind swirling with random thoughts.
“Heyyy..uh...Y/N my favorite Vampire seductress. Hows ‘bout we tell each other a fun fact about ourselves.” He slurs drunkingly, his face a giant smile of bliss. You give him a hum of acknowledgment as you think for a second of what to say.
“Okay I’ll go first. I have a tattoo of a fish skeleton under my right boob.”
He bursts out laughing at the honest bluntness of your comment, “Cheers to our amazinggg tats my friend.” Quips Klaus as he takes another small swig of his liquor. You continue to stare up at the ceiling, your eyes following the dimly lit Christmas lights strung about the walls.
“Okay my turn. When I was 10, I challenged myself to see if I could steal one thing from everyone’s room in a week.”
“How’d that turn out for you?”
“Oh I was highly successful, until Pogo caught me sneaking around old Reggie’s office. Ya know now since I’ve thought about it...he probably saved my ass from some gory fate if Dad actually caught me.”
“Amazing.”
Klaus nods as he shifts himself around to face you, “So my dear, you got anything else that’s highly juicy drama? Come onnnn, you have to have had some wild nights with my bro for sure.” He says while wiggling his eyebrows, hoping for an answer. You roll yourself onto your stomach so as to better see him.
“None that are for your innocent ears, Klaus.”
“Oooohhh the scandal, you know what...I don’t wanna know. Oh hey Y/N have some of this shit it’s seriously sooo good.” Insists Klaus while raising up his almost empty bottle of whatever. You eye it curiously, it does smell appealing if you’re being honest, and there’s no one here to stop you.
“Yeah alright lets get fucked up, why not.” His face breaks out into a full Cheshire Cat smile as he eagerly hands you the bottle of alcohol. You grasp the glass bottle, flashing him a quick smirk before chugging the rest of it, much to Klaus’ surprised amusement.
“Yeahhh Y/N! We’re breakkin the ruulesss tonight.” He laughs while cheering you on. You finally set the bottle down as a do your best to hold in a watery burp, your face making a sour expression instead.
“Classy Y/N.”
“Thank you I’ll be here all night.”
Suddenly Klaus’ face shifts into a fake pout, as he sits on his carpet like a moody six year old, you smile at him as you tilt your head to the side.
“Whatcha thinking ‘bout Klaus.”
“We’re out of booze. This is not good.”
You can’t help yourself as a loud laugh bursts from your lips, the alcohols effects ever so slightly working their way into your bloodstream. He snaps his attention back to you, his face faining shock.
“This is a serious issue Y/N!”
“Exactly! We’re gonna have to go on a mission...to the downstairs bar...for..”
“For..?”
“For the good shit.”
“YES! You’re a genius, no wonder Diego keeps you around...you’re so smart Y/N..and he’s just so...stupid.” Drawls Klaus with an intoxicated giggle at the end.
You snort at the odd compliment of Klaus’ while getting up off of the bed, and setting the empty bottle onto the covers. You stand above Klaus as you reach your hand out for him to take, he gladly accepts your invitation for making more mischief as you easily pull him up, the both of you silently walking out the door and quietly tiptoeing down the vacant hallway. You’re in the lead as Klaus holds onto the bottom of your t-shirt in the darkness. He can’t see nearly as well as you can, so he smartly lets you handle your guys’ stealth mode adventure through the Academy’s eccentric hallways. You listen for any sounds of Pogo or Grace who may potentially cross paths with the two of you, and most likely ruin your fun.
The both of you ever-so-sneakily fumble up the stairs like giggly school girls doing something they shouldn’t be. Once you reach the top you sniff the air for any threats, nothing. Taking this as an obvious sign that everything’s all clear you make a break for the main living room, Klaus hot on your heels. Sprinting faster then you’ve ever seen him before, it’s honestly quit impressive.
You skid to an abrupt stop once you finally reach the back of the bar where all the most expensive and best tasting beverages are kept. Klaus quickly pushing past you to seek out his favorite bottle, you watch him grab one then two different kinds, insisting that they’re both equally as important and they shouldn’t be separated cause that would be a crime. You agree, looking through the vast collection as your skilled eyes finally lock onto your favorite drink. You pick it up eagerly, swiftly turning your body back around to face a visibly excited Klaus who’s practically shaking with adrenaline or maybe it’s whatever drugs he took, you’re not really sure.
“Y/N if you would do the honors.” He asks while handing you his bottle to open since you’re the stronger one here. You set your own bottle down onto the counter, taking his and twisting it with a satisfying pop sound as the cap releases. He practically yanks it out of your hands, giving you a peppy salute before taking a long swig. You leave him to it, opening up your own bottle and taking a hearty drink of your own. The two of you wipe your mouths as you both take a satisfied sigh of relief, enjoying how the alcohol is starting to slowly affect you.
“You know what we need to make this experience extra fantastic?”
“Blow my frickin mind.”
“Music!” Shouts Klaus as he races around the bar and bolts towards the stairs leading down to his room. With your bottle still in hand you hustle after him, practically sliding into his door when you make it to his room. He’s already ahead of the game as he fumbles around with his record player, putting a classic tune on that instantly has you jumping. The two of you practically scream sing the lyrics of the song currently blasting throughout the room and down the hallway. Both you jumping on his bed and dancing around the small area like bad little kids staying up past their bedtime.
You don’t remember how you got to the top floor of the Umbrella Academy but here you are. One fourth of a bottle full in your left hand and a red plastic lightsaber in your right. Klaus standing a couple feet away practically mirroring your own stance. He just looks a lot more fucked up then you are, as he drunkingly swings the saber around like a lunatic.
“Y/N I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND!”
“But you were the CHOSEN one!”
“Die rebel scum!” Yelps Klaus as he swings his weapon towards you, he looks like an old man as he’s basically moving in slow motion for dramatics. You give him his moment as you lean into the lightsaber, pretending to get sliced in the most ridiculously dramatic way possible.
“Ugh I am...defeated...blah.”
“HA get fucked loser!” Laughs Klaus who starts to randomly dance around you in a sort of weird victory dance type thing. You raise your own lightsaber up into the air as you shout a loud battlecry.
“SIKE! The evil cannot defeat me....I am INVINCIBLE!” Klaus’ eyes widen as you give him a devilish grin, he suddenly flips you off and screams before hauling ass down the hallway.
“Come get me bitches!!!”
Downing most of your bottle you race after him with your saber swinging wildly in front of you, he turns a corner and then down another in a fruitless attempt at losing you. You suddenly catch him into a corner, stalking slowly over to him like a tigress to her prey, his eyes going wide. But without warning he haphazardly chucks his lightsaber at you, successfully smacking you across the head with it, catching you very off guard and giving him just enough time to book it down the hallway and down the stairs. You quickly recover, downing the rest of your bottle as you trade it for the extra lightsaber. Cackling to yourself like a crazed witch as you continue your hunt for Klaus.
You can hear him running around the Academy so you take a shortcut down another hallway, leading you right in front of him. He stops, eyeing you suspiciously as he gets into a kung foo looking posture.
“I have two lightsabers you dumb-buss. And I’m gonna kick your buns for that little getaway stunt you just pulled. Bitch.”
“Get hit by a car.” Whisper yells Klaus before abruptly turning around and racing down the hallway once again.
As you race around another corner you suddenly smack into the back of Klaus, knocking yourself backwards and onto the floor with a breathy grunt. “Klaus what the he..” Your eyes go wide when they land on an incredibly confused Pogo who’s eyes the two of you suspiciously. You quickly gather yourself as you bolt to your feet, doing a terrible job at hiding the lightsabers behind you in the process.
“Now what is all this ruckus about you two?”
“Oh, what did you hear something suspicious? Me and Y/N/N here were just...uh...checking the halls for any possible intruders.” Rambles Klaus, hands casually on his slender hips as he stares at Pogo with the chillest face possible.
“Yeah, don’t worry Pogo. No thieves in this Academy.” You nervously shrug, giving him a forced smile, though you’re pretty sure you look a bit demented. Pogo looks between the two of you knowing full well that your dumbasses are drunk and causing all kinds of mischief around the large estate. This is definitely not the first time this has happened and probably not the last, he shakes his head as he blinks, “Well then...that’s good to know...I’ll just be in my room reading if you two need anything. Goodnight.”
“Night Pogo.”
“Save travels in dreamland.” Snickers Klaus as you smack the back of his head.
Pogo gives the both of you a kind tight lipped smile before nodding and turning around to walk into his room. You watch as he disappears within, the great oaken door shutting with a small thud. Klaus abruptly swivels to face you, a cheeky grin stuck to his scruffy face, “That went pretty well...all things considered.”
“Guess what.”
“What.”
“You’re a little bitch. And I have two lightsabers.” His eyes quickly widen in realization as he swats at your shoulder, laughing in delight as he practically gallops down the hallway.
“Stop running I might throw up!”
You sprint after him, Klaus leads you down more hallways and stairs until you catch him in the front room. Blocking him from escaping anywhere else into the Academy, unless he opened the front door and ran outside, but that’s highly unlikely considering it’s snowing out and he’s shoeless and without a shirt on except for a Hufflepuff scarf you bought him last year. Klaus fake growls at you while flailing his lanky arms around like pool noodles. You suddenly have the bright idea of jumping onto the wooden table, and without another thought you do just that.
It surprisingly holds you up, Klaus steps back as you swing your dual lightsabers around like a maniac, clearly enjoying yourself in this blissfully warm drunken state. Quickly thinking on the fly, or maybe its his ingrained hero training, Klaus grabs a spare umbrella hanging on the coat rack and swings it at you with a new theatrical passion.
“Don’t worry Y/N I’ll put you out of your misery!” Shouts Klaus as he swats your legs with the umbrella, you smack him on the arm as he yelps out in pain.
“I’ll put your grandma out of her misery!”
“I don’t even have a grandma you monster!”
“Neither do I!”
The front door swings open just as Klaus finishes his sentence and you loudly answering him back, as the both of you swing your weapons at each other once again. You and Klaus oblivious to whoever just walked inside, until the door shuts with a loud thud, causing the two of you to stop mid hit and look over to the individual standing by the front entrance, who’s looking a very hard mixture of concerned and not sure if he should ask. Your eyes instantly go wide as they land on Diego.
“She started it!” Points Klaus before smacking your legs with the umbrella and booking it down the hallway for about the hundredth time that night. You jump off the table, sprinting towards Klaus with a new found purpose, leaving a confused Diego in your wake. Klaus is fast but not fast enough as you slide past him and block his ass from seeking safety within his room. The two of you have an intense old western style stare down for a couple moments before he breaks the silence.
“I may be vurrryyy outs of it, but I think Diego is hurrr.” Slurs Klaus as he leans himself against the wall.
“Well he’s not allowed in our pillow fort then.”
“We don’t even have a pillow fort Y/N!”
“We gonna have one now! Let’s get inside!” You quickly whisper yell at him, before grabbing his hand and yanking him into his room, shutting the door right after. Forgetting to lock the door in the process. You and Klaus throw some chairs and blankets around, in a sad attempt at making a pillow fort. It looks like a goddamn pillow Godzilla came crashing through your plush city of Pillow Tokyo, but who cares at this point anyways. The two of you begin laughing like a pair of drunken sailors as Klaus hands you another one of his half filled bottles. You gladly accept with a lopsided smile while Klaus mumbles something to himself. A second later the door jiggles and opens a few inches before it gets stuck on a bunched up blanket.
“Y/N, Klaus what the hell are you two doing? And let me in.”
“What’s the password Diego?” Giggles you and Klaus as Diego let’s out a frustrated sigh.
“Uh...”
“Incorrect. You’ve got two more guesses babe.” You playfully snap at him.
“Luther sucks?”
“Errrgggg, wrong again brother.” Quips Klaus, taking the bottle out of your hand to down some himself.
“Y/N is the best?” Tries Diego cautiously, hoping this will be the password. You bolt up from the floor as you lose your footing and catch yourself with a quick smack of your hands into the doorframe. Diego holds in a laugh as he gives you an amused smile, still finding you absolutely adorable even when visibly out of it and quit possibly drunk off your ass.
“DD, hellooowww.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as you give him a sappy grin.
“Don’t let him in Y/N he didn’t guess the password. It’s Jesus...the passwords always Jesus.” Warns Klaus in the background. Diego raises his eyebrows at that as your face falls in disappointment.
“Dammit Klaus now he knows.” You turn round to hiss at him like an angry cat.
“Y/N I don’t really...uh..really feel good.” Mumbles Klaus as he leans himself back against a pile of pillows. You purse your lips into a tight frown, realizing in your own buzzed state that the fun is over and you’ll have to go home, but it’s cold outside. You look up at Diego as he stares back down at you, he’s not entirely sure if your about to cry or not, until your face abruptly lights up into a cheeky grin taking him off guard.
“Y/N. Don’t do it.” Is all he has time to say before you hastily slam the door in his face and turn around to get the high ground on Klaus’ bed. You’ve got an empty bottle in one hand as Diego shoves the door open eyeing you up like a wolf to his prey. You’d be more turned on by this if it wasn’t for the fact that you really don’t want to go home. He carefully walks in closer to you as Klaus watches in amusement, loudly cheering Diego on. You’re back presses against the back wall as you hold out your empty wine bottle in defense, “None of you bitches could handle me.”
“Y/N put the bottle down.”
“I’ve died of alcohol poisoning twice you can’t kill me!”
“I wish I could do that.” Adds Klaus with a laugh.
“That’s not something to be proud of.” Says Diego as his attention snaps back to you.
“I’ve done cocaine off of Brad Pitts ass cheeks.” You cackle as your face breaks out into another bright smile, Diego lets out an amused huff of air, really doing his best to keep a straight face at your intoxicated nonsense.
“Oh shit me too. Or maybe he was a stripper, ya know I don’t actually recall.”
“Jesus Christ you two.” Mutters Diego as he slowly gets closer to you, his legs now reaching the bed. He gives you a pleading look as he reaches his arm out for you to take.
“No TOUCHY. I have a boyfriend!” You shout back, as he quickly takes the opportunity to snatch your bottle out of your hand and toss it into the nearby destroyed pillow fort.
“Y/N I am your boyfriend. And we need to go home now. Please.” You give him a dirty look before rolling your eyes and walking into his open arms, not being able to resist from him any longer. He hugs you tight while gently setting your feet onto the carpeted floor.
“I’ll help you put your boots and coat on okay? Just sit on the bed please.” He sweetly asks, you oblige without so much as a pout. Letting him take care of you in the smallest of ways, once you’re finally all ready to go he takes your hands and pulls you up.
“See ya ‘round Klaus. Have fun, do crimes.” You wink while shooting him finger guns, he nods his head lifting up a lightsaber to salute you.
“May the forces of this broken umbrella be with you.” Replies Klaus, lifting up the umbrella to salute you again. Diego lets out an amused snort as he says goodbye to his brother and ushers you out the door. He holds your hand the whole time as he leads you throughout the Academy and all the way to the front door, where he opens it for you to walk through.
When you walk outside the air is calm and quiet, the world is cold and surrounded in a shimmering white blanket of fresh snow. A small silent parade of silver confetti falls lightly from the dark sky, landing on your flushed face as cool icy kisses touch your hot skin. It feels nice and has your head spinning as you wait on the sidewalk for Diego to finish locking the front gate. His steps are quiet in the snow as he links his arm with yours, startling you for a second before you relax back into his touch. The two of you walk peacefully through the snow covered sidewalk for about fifteen minutes before you decide to break the quiet.
“So hows’ err night ‘iego?” You slur while struggling to stay balanced, your head feels cloudy and the sparkly snow is messing with your perception due to you being drunk and all. He pulls you in closer while placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head.
“I saved this old guy from getting robbed by some teenage punks, who clearly didn’t know what they were doing. It was too easy, but uh...that was about it. Pretty slow tonight actually.” You let out a satisfied hum in response.
“You’re like...so...hot.” You mumble while craning your neck to get a good view of his face. He looks down at you with an adoring smirk gracing his lips, his very very kissable lips. You can’t help yourself as you pull down on his jacket collar and crash your lips into his, its a sweet but brief embrace, as he pulls away first. You give him an annoyed pout while he smiles, shaking his head at you.
“We gotta make it home Y/N. I can already tell how bad your hangovers gonna be in the morning.”
You give him a what-the-fuck face, still pissed that he broke your kiss so soon and is now instructing you like a mother goose. You’re not having it one bit. In response you pull his hat down into his eyes and trip him into a snowbank, you watch in amusement as he disappears into the cold puffy whiteness. Only to come back into view with an angry grunt as he pulls himself to his feet, you’re absolutely losing your shit watching him struggle and get frustrated with you. By the time he’s removed the snow from his face, he stops his angry protests to watch you crying with laughter. His frustration and growing irritation slowly dissipating away as he sees how truly happy you are, it’s adorable to watch someone like you in such a rare drunkingly blissful state. He breaks out into a tired grin, thinking it best not to provoke you anymore as he abandons the idea of throwing a snowball at you. As this decision may not end very well for him.
“Come on you goofball lets get inside. Some of us can actually get frostbite.” Diego tells you while throwing a snow covered arm over your shoulder, your face breaks out into a crooked half smile as you lean into Diego’s warm side once again. Then without warning your stomach lurches with a nasty after taste of whatever you ate earlier touching your tongue. Instantly you break from his grasp, turning to the snowy street curb and abruptly puking onto the dazzling snow innocently minding its business below. Diego instantly rushes to hold your hair back as you loudly let it all out, your body feels like it’s on fire and your throat hurts as you continue to vomit a nasty mix of alcohol and chicken nuggets. Once done, you quickly wipe off your mouth of any lasting unwanted particles.
You spit in the snow, turning around to face a concerned Diego who looks at you worriedly with those big brown eyes of his. You give him a theatrical bow, before hanging your head down in exhaustion as you slowly shuffle past him.
“Oh shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
#the umbrella academy#the umbrella academy x reader#diego hargreeves x you#diego hargreeves x reader#falcor the luck dragon stories#number two#the umbrella academy x you
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Request for prompt: modern kataang-high school or college ❤️
I’M SO SORRY ANON THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN DONE YESTERDAY
I made the fic a bit longer than normal, so I hope that makes it up😞 I really do appreciate the ask, and I’m soso sorry if you felt like I was ignoring you!! (feat. littleshit!Aang🥰)
(Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a theatre kid, so apologies for any nonsense🙃)
Words: 1,521
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Katara groaned. She reminded herself that she loved him, but the repetition was making the reasons lose meaning. That, or her thespian boyfriend’s IQ was plummeting even further below ambient temperature.
Aang was an idiot. A silly, smiling, sarcastic to a fault ball of sunshine idiot.
But he was her idiot.
I love him. I love him.
Aang swooned. Again. This time, he gave it twice as much flair, and his gasp somehow waxed Shakespearean even though it wasn’t even a word. Katara’s conditioning from the past hour reminding herself that she loved him was the only reason she didn’t immediately drop him when he fell sideways into a trust-fall (that they both knew she would catch him in).
“Oh, Katara!” Aang arched like a loaded bow in her arms. His sneakers dragged on the concrete walkway that cut through the library’s courtyard. He’s lucky they were alone. Katara wasn’t so lucky. Alone meant Aang could be as silly and make her as flustered as his heart desired.
I love him. I love him.
“Oh, my life’s only meaning, my dear dove and daydream~”
Katara blushed, kept walking, and rolled her eyes towards the moon when her melodramatic boyfriend let himself be dragged like a corpse.
She looked down, hoping to smack some sense into him with her glare.
Big mistake.
Aang’s theatre makeup was still on, and his puppy-dog eyes were a compulsion as impossible to fight as the need to keep her heart beating.
There was a silent little plea in those smartass silver orbs.
Katara grumbled, but forces outside of her control made her adjust her grip to carry him bridal style. It was more than a tad unfair. Aang had a head of height and nearly half times her weight on her.
(Un)Fortunately, he had pulled this stunt enough times to build her physical endurance to his antics just as much as her mental.
I tolerate him. I tolerate him.
Aang hugged her neck, nuzzled her jaw like an overly-affectionate lover on his first date with the one he’d been pining for, and Katara only growled a little bit before giving him the little kiss he was after.
I tolerate him. I tolerate him.
Aang was still high on the excitement of another theatre performance. His smile was a floodlight that had Katara dumbly blinking whenever she looked at it, and his giggles were each followed by an equally giddy kiss.
“Love you ‘tara~” He looked at her expectantly and pouted when all she did was scowl at the empty night ahead of them. He rolled his head onto her shoulder and tightened his grip on her neck. “Don’t you love me, too?” The sincerity in his voice was gone in the next second, replaced by his cartoon villain’s cackle. “Come ooooon. You know you do. You love me. You thought I did great tonight, didn’t you?”
“Aang, I swear—”
Aang’s gasp redefined what it meant to be overdramatic. He flung his arm over his head and tightened the other around her neck. “Be gone from me!” He swooned as if wounded and tried to distance himself without leaving her arms. “Aang is my stage name!”
Katara stopped.
Aang smiled, making the air so concentrated with his mischief that it felt like breathing and moving through fog.
He kissed her again, though it felt like a victor’s flag being planted.
Katara kissed him back.
And then she dropped him.
“Owwww…” Aang rubbed his head but didn’t try to get up. Puppy-dog eyes were a wounded stray that didn’t know what it did wrong.
But then he saw her disapproving foot tapping, and he bounced right back into character.
“Oh, the pain! It’s nearly unbearable! The lost love *sniff* also nearly unbearable!”
He clutched his chest.
Katara pinched between her eyes.
I tolerate him. I love him.
“—and with that, I die!” Aang hit the walkway supine. His tongue jumped out to hang over the corner of his mouth like it was an old dollar rejected from a vending machine, his last breath sunk his chest to the concrete, and every muscle on his annoyingly handsome face uncoiled into something serene that was ruined by his audible gasp of death. “Bleh!”
I tolerate loving him. I tolerate loving him.
“Aang.”
He didn’t move.
“Aang.”
It probably wasn’t healthy for him to be holding his exhale this long.
Katara sagged like she was crushed under a theatre curtain, and she looked at the stars searching for answers.
Why do I love him?
Katara was still fighting her existential crisis as she stepped over her thespian love’s supine form. “Goodnight, sweet prince,” she said with all the enthusiasm of a thrice removed cousin at yet another family funeral, “and flights of winged lemurs sing thee to thy rest.”
Katara’s headache was pounding so hard that she didn’t notice the footsteps rapidly pounding after her until her other, tattooed, always smiling, forever loving, never cold human-headache jumped onto her back.
(Un)Fortunately, Katara had exercised this maneuver well enough times, too.
Aang’s laugh was in her ear, and his smile kissed her temple. His legs and arms found their homes around her like final puzzle pieces sliding into place.
Katara was supporting him without thinking about it. She was concentrating too hard on trying to still look mad. The butterflies in her stomach escaped into the whole of her, filling her with clouds, when he kissed her cheek. He held the moment that was theirs, and he slacked like she’d just released him from some witch’s curse.
He was human ooze—warm, loving, and laughing so lightly and so consistently that it trembled against her back like a purr.
Katara smiled. Aang’s ease cooled her over, and her headache limped away. He was her every ailment and every cure. It was more than a little addicting.
Katara glanced at him in her periphery since his head was limp on her shoulder. His one eye peaked open, and the mischief that danced there created the blanket for a million loving stars.
Katara looked a second more, found her answer, and kissed his cheek long enough to make the moment theirs.
I love him. I love him.
Aang was a brilliant actor, but he could never play false love. The soft smile she drew from him was genuine, and the way he relaxed was like a theatre mask and costume finally coming off. It was a performance only she could ever witness, and it was one that words couldn’t hope to do justice.
“...I love you, Aang.”
Aang hummed. Katara felt it—and the wavy rhythm of his following laugh—from where he laid limp against her. His arms hung over her chest, and the whole of him grew slack, trusting her grip to keep him from falling. She would never. He knew it, too.
He nuzzled her jaw like he was a lovesick boy on his first date with the girl he had pined over forever. His touch was soft, barely there, like she was something sacred he didn’t want to disturb. His smile was on her temple and trailing its way down her cheek, but his voice was all around her—his words reaching her ears, his bass trembling against her back, and his sincerity brushing her soul—like they were back in the theater dome.
It was still playful, but it was also scratchy and turned to static from sudden exhaustion.
“...Aang is my stage name.”
Katara’s dancing heart skipped out of tune and tumbled of its stage, becoming a pinball jetting around her insides that hit a bumper and dinged a bell as his breathing grew quieter and calmer—satisfied. Safe.
He loves me. He loves me.
Katara kissed the part of his face she could reach, savored the brightening of the night that came with the widening of his smile, and walked with the renewed strength his giggle gave her.
“I love you, my Forever Boy.”
Aang’s smile was sudden and grand, and it disorientated her with excitement. His laugh, genuine and a gift he only gave to her, flooded her frantic heart with adrenaline that left it bouncing in its seat. He did it to her every time, and she would never grow tired of it. Aang was a classic. A masterpiece. A work of art like no other.
His next laugh was Andrew Lloyd Webster shaking her world to its core, and his next smile, brought up with new life, was the chandelier leaving the stage to hang from the ceiling above her, making himself the moon and the stars her every question and answer all in one.
His next hum was an encouragement, and his next nuzzle, though weak and heavy with sleep, to her jaw was the gaze of a phantom kept close to her heart.
Aang’s voice was more like a thought than sound. “I love you, too, my Forever Girl...” He kissed near her ear. “...My Mighty Katara...” Then her cheek. “...My dear panda lily...” The corner of her lip. “...The song of my heart’s dance.”
His head found its home in the nest of hair pooling in the dip of her shoulder. He took a deep breath, hummed a tune that made the world feel right again, and held the last note like he was asking for her hand to dance.
And Katara, though stage-fright, wore him like a cape that scared her every fear away, and she quietly added her voice to their music of the night.
His skipping heart tumbled against her back and told her he could hear her smile just as clearly as she could feel his grin against her shoulder.
I love him...I love him...
Katara sang a little louder and reminded herself to tell her thespian love just how much she loved him later.
**************************************
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...Idk where Phantom of the Opera come from, okay? It just happened. A happy little accident...I hope you liked it? I swear I’m not theatrically inept I swear—
#kataang#aang#katara#avatar the last airbender#atla#college!au#theaterkid!aang#stagefright!katara#Aang is a ~little shit~#NaNoWriMo 2020#myfanfictiontag#post
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new girl // colby brock
this made me sad
requested: yes
summary: you’re colby’s best friend and he has been ditching you for his new girl, so you decide to give him a piece of your mind.
word count: 2.7k+ words.
warnings: mention of parties and alcohol, a few swear words, angst
masterlist
//
it is wednesday, which means it is pizza night for the whole group. not going to lie, you adored pizza night because it was the only time everyone got together without any distractions, the only distraction is when the boys battle each other on their games, but it’s a good distraction.
however, this pizza night is different from any other pizza night. the vibe is completely off, as everyone watches colby introduce a girl who he has been talking to for a couple of weeks.
you are still yet to meet the mystery girl, as colby has been very distant with you since she came into his life. any spare time that he had with you, has now changed to him spending time with her. recently, he has started to cancel plans that the two of you had together last minute, which not going to lie, has pissed you off because it’s so not like him.
you and colby were best friends, and you were practically joint at the hip. even though you were supposed to be made up for your best friend finally meeting someone who feels right, you can’t stop the jealousy that is bubbling in the pit of your stomach. now, this isn’t because you fancied him or because you wanted to be his girlfriend, you just felt nervous of the idea of a new girl being in his life.
colby made quick eye contact with you, and gave you a quick smile before turning his attention to the girl in front of him. you watch, as he wraps his arms around her waist, and leans in to whisper something in her ear and she chucks her head back as soft giggles fall from her lips.
your gaze is diverted from colby and the girl, to sam, who is shouting at you from the opposite side of the room and waving his arm like a maniac to gain your attention.
“y/n!” he shouts, waving a ping pong ball in the air. “devyn needs a team player, you’re up.”
you nod, picking up your drink from the floor and stroll towards sam, kat and devyn who are standing by the pool table. upon arriving, you take a gulp of the drink, and place the now empty cup on the edge of the pool table.
“what drink is in the cups this time?” you ask, peeping into the red cups and trying to take a sniff.
“vodka, straight.” kat grins, watching as your face twists in disgust.
“jesus, are you trying to kill me?” you chuckle, picking up the ping pong ball and bouncing it on the table, groaning when it misses the cups on the opposite end. “why couldn’t you mix it with coke?”
“stop moaning and drink up.” sam cackles, as the white ball lands perfect in the red cup that is placed neatly in front of you. you groan, but pick up the cup anyway and chug it down quickly. coughs of disgust fall from your lips, and you grip your chest at the burning feeling of the vodka slipping down your throat.
“fucking hell, that’s awful.” you whine, face still twisted in disgust, as the three laugh at your reaction.
beer (vodka) pong goes on for at least forty minutes before sam and kat are crowned the winners, and devyn and you would have won if you both weren’t so bad at it.
during this time, colby still hasn’t been to see you or even spoken to you and as you’re getting more drunk, you can’t help but start to sulk at the fact your best friend of years, is ignoring your presence for a girl he’s known for a couple of weeks.
you are sitting on the sofa, with your fourth drink of the night, as well as the vodka from beer pong, and you're resting your chin on your palm. you feel the seat dip next to you, and you turn your head to the left and smile as corey wraps his arm around your shoulder, in a friendly way.
“i can’t help but notice that you’re not enjoying yourself tonight,” he speaks quietly in your ear. even though the music in the trap house is loud, he doesn’t want to gain the attention of the others. “what wrong? you can tell me anything you know.”
“i just don’t like getting ignored.” you sigh, looking over in the direction of colby and his new girl, who is now sitting on his lap. you turn your gaze back to corey, who follows your gaze and his eyebrows raised in shock. “he’s been so distant, cancelling plans and ignoring my texts and calls. it’s starting to get to me, not going to lie.”
you can feel your breath hitch and your eyes begin to water, as all of the emotions of the night begin to release. you blink away any tears that are threatening to fall quickly, and stand up from your seat and turn to corey.
“i’ll be back in a minute, i’m just going to use the bathroom.” you smile, wiping under your eyes quickly and move towards the stairs that lead to the bathroom.
stepping into the bathroom, you lock the door and sit on the edge of the white bath and you finally feel tears fall down the apples of your cheeks. sniffles escape from your lips as you rub the bottom of your eyes, trying not to get mascara all over your face, as you stand to look at yourself in the mirror. hastily wiping the mascara drips from below your eyes, you turn your head towards the door as a soft knock booms.
“y/n, it’s colby,” he shouts from the opposite side of the brown wooden door. “can you unlock the door please?”
your eyes widen at his voice, and you remove any reminders of the mascara from your eyes. it was obvious that you were crying, and you didn’t try to hide it as you walked towards the door and unlocked it, before sitting back on the edge of the tub.
your head remains looking at the floor, as his shoes come into contact with your gaze. he places his hand on your shoulder, but you flinch at his touch and he frowns, then quickly removes his hand to play with his rings, that are littered all over his fingers..
“hey, look at me.” he demands, but in a soft voice to encourage you to look in his direction. “please?”
sighing, you raise your head to look at him with watery eyes, as you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to stop it from quivering. his face is confused, but it’s also laced with concern as he studies your face.
“what’s going on? corey said you’re upset. has someone said something to you?” he questions, eyes widening as he talks fast, determined to find out what’s wrong with his best friend.
“it’s what someone hasn’t said.” you spit, voice laced with anger as you ball your fists in frustration. you didn’t mean to sound like a bitch, but you needed to let him know that he’s upset you and now is the best time whilst you’re both alone.
“what are you going on about?” he looks at you puzzled, searching your face for clues as to what you’re talking about.
“you haven’t uttered one word to me all night. in fact for weeks, colby.” you sigh, looking down at the floor again, before returning your attention to his face. “you’ve cancelled plans, you’ve ignored my calls and texts and every time i come over to hang out you’re not here because you’re too busy with her.”
colby was stunned. he didn’t know how to react because he didn’t know that he was the reason that you were upset and crying in the bathroom.
colby sighs, as he brings his hand up to his hair and tugs on it. he is suddenly feeling stressed, frustrated and guilty knowing that he’s made his best friend and favourite girl feel like pure shit, to the point she’s crying.
“i’m sorry,” he mummers, looking away because he can’t stand to see the hurt on her face. he moves back, so he is leaning against the sink, and folds his arms across his chest. “i didn’t realise i was making you feel this way, i’m sorry.”
you scoff, and raise to your feet so you're standing in front of him. your scoff makes him lift his head and make eye contact with you, and he tugs his bottom lip in between his pearly white teeth nervously.
“are you not happy for me or something? is this why you’re so pissed off with me?” he asks, standing up straight and he knits his brows together.
“you’re joking right?” you say, shaking your head as you feel more frustrated tears threatening to fall. “of course i’m made up for you colby, as long as you're happy, i’m happy.”
“well clearly you’re not because you’re acting like this.” he nods his head into your direction and moves his arms about to get his point across. his words only make you shake your head more, as you laugh humourlessly.
“i’m pissed off because you’ve ditched your best friend of many fucking years, for a girl you’ve known for two seconds.” you try not to raise your voice, but you can’t help it as you feel the anger bubble in the pit of your stomach. “can i add as well, you’ve ditched the one who helps you edit your videos, the one who keeps you company when you’re feeling sad or want someone to watch movies with you, the one who cooks you food when you can’t be arsed and the one who cares about you so fucking much, that she’s crying right in front of you for treating her like a complete idiot.”
you’ve let the hot tears fall now, and you can’t stop them as sobs begin to fall from your lips. colby’s heart is shattering at the sight, but he’s still taking in your words.
it’s silent for a few moments, before colby moves quickly to wrap his arms around your frame. this time, you don’t shrug him off, because what you need at this moment in time is a hug from the man standing in front of you. so, you wrap your arms tightly around his waist and cling on to him as sobs wrack through your body.
he rubs his hand soothingly on your back to help calm you down, and he sighs, playing back your words over and over in his head. guilt was all he felt. he didn’t know he was pushing you away, he was so wrapped up in something new, that he couldn’t see he was forgetting to spend time with the girl who means the most to him.
“i’m so sorry, so fucking sorry y/n.” he mummers against your shoulder, squeezing your frame tightly as if he was afraid that you were going to push him off and tell him to go and fuck himself. he could feel himself starting to get emotional, so he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth again to stop it from wavering.
you manage to calm yourself down, sniffling every now and then as you wipe your eyes. you loosen your arms on waist, and step back to wipe the tears off your face and sigh. you feel slightly embarrassed for confessing your feelings about the situation to colby, but you knew deep down that he needed to know, otherwise you were going to be more hurt in the long run.
“i promise, colbs. i’m made up for you, but please don’t push me out because you’ve found someone.” you say quietly, suddenly feeling exhausted as your head begins to pound. you don’t know if it’s from the alcohol, or your thoughts, but you bring your fingers to your temples and rub gently.
“i won’t, everything’s going to change. i promise.” he says softly, bringing you in for another hug before releasing and looking at you. “do you want to go back down there? or do you want to watch movies in my room?” he asks, searching your face for answers.
“you can’t leave her down there for me, it’s not fair. i’m just going to go home, it’s getting late and i’m pretty tired now.” you say, looking at your hands to avoid eye contact with him.
“okay,” he sighs, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “do you have a lift home already? i can drive you, i haven’t drank anything today.”
“yes please, if you don’t mind.” you chew your lip, a habit that you have when you feel awkward or nervous, and you’re not too sure why you’re feeling like this in front of your best friend.
“of course not, c’mon.” he says, giving your shoulder a last squeeze for comfort, before unlocking the door and climbing down the stairs.
you wait by the door, as you don’t want anyone to see you in this state and anyone to question you, and you hear colby announce he’s driving you home and he won’t be long. you hear everyone shout goodbye to you, and it brings a smile onto your lips for the first time in a while, and you follow colby as he opens the front door and to his car.
the drive to your place was short, as you live close by, and you rest your head on the coolness of his car window and let your eyes close. colby glances in your direction multiple times to make sure you’re okay, and once he arrives outside your house, he taps your shoulder to gain your attention.
“hey,” he whispers, not wanting to scare you. “we’re here.”
you lift your head up to look around, and you can feel yourself relax when you look at the front door of your house. you unbuckle your seatbelt, and turn to look at the man in the driver's seat, who is chewing on his bottom lip watching your every move.
“thank you for driving me home, colbs.” you smile, preparing to exit his car by grabbing your heels which you removed the second you sat in the seat and your bag.
“any time, you know that.” he returns the smile, but a small sigh releases from his pink lips. “i’m really sorry for tonight, i honestly didn’t realise i was acting like a dick. can i make it up to you tomorrow, please?”
“it’s okay, i mean it’s not okay,” you say, fiddling with your hands. “we needed that talk. how are you going to make it up to me?” you quiz with raised eyebrows and a small grin.
“movies with me all day tomorrow. i’ll pick you up around eleven and we can stop at the shop and grab snacks, and we can have a sleepover.” he looks at you with a glint of hopefulness, whilst he studies your face.
“sure, sounds good brock.” you beam, leaning over the console to engulf him with a hug. “i’m going to go inside now, text me when you get back to the house so i know you’re safe, please.”
“i will do, now get out before you fall asleep in my car and i can’t get you out.” he winks, chuckling as you let out soft giggles and open the door. “message me when you have locked your door so i know you’re okay.”
nodding, you gather your things, and exit his car. you begin to walk to your front door, before turning around and giving colby a little wave. he doesn’t move or take his eyes off you, until he sees that you have opened, entered and shut the door behind you. he waits a couple of seconds before his phone pings to say you’re okay, and that you’re off to bed.
colby smiles, and turns his ignition on, and he begins the small route back to the house. your words from earlier play back in his head during the trip back to his house, and he can’t help but feel accountable for making you upset, so he is going to make sure he makes you feel so special during your time together tomorrow.
request here
please give me feedback on this as it’s my first angst
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Let’s Turn This House Into a Home💜| Genie!Jimin x Reader
Summary: Park Jimin. Strange, vague and perhaps, misunderstood. He doesn’t fit in with his friends. He isn’t self-absorbed and like smoking a joint every few minutes. You are just like Jimin, maybe not in all way, but similar. What is he hiding?
Genre: High school AU, Supernatural AU, angst, and fluff
Warnings: Smoking, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, attempted sexual assault
Pt.2
“Jimin, man, come on!” Said purple-haired boy groaned and ran his hand through his hair.
“I told you guys, I’m not going anywhere near that shit.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and let out a puff of smoke.
“It attracts the ladies. And boys.” He chuckled and nudged Jungkook, earning a punch from the maknae.
“You guys are such assholes! You always pressure me to do things I don’t want to do and you give me shit for it! The only one who leaves me alone is Namjoon-hyung,” Jimin fired. He stood up from his position on the worn, black leather couch and ran up the stair case, shortly slamming his bedroom door closed. The eldest sighed, leaning over the kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yoongi stood with his mouth open, pointing his lit cigarette in the direction Jimin went.
“This is bullshit! I’m so sick of him. It’s like he’s got a stick up his ass 24/7,” the silver-haired man growled, throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out.
“Hey! You know very well what he’s going through. It’s not easy for him. Show some compassion, dickhead.” Taehyung inputted. Yoongi kicked Taehyung in the shin with his black vans. He then made his way to the entrance of the house, picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.
“See you forth period.” And with a slam of the front door, he was gone.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Jimin stared at the roof of his room. The ceiling was a faded cream with cracked paint and dark patches. The walls had peeling old-fashioned wallpaper, reflecting the neglect and mistreatment of the house. The room had Jimin’s childhood bed, a dingy, broken heater, and a wooden desk with a box on top. His eyes moved to the window. It had scratches, dirt and a hole pierced through it. The pink curtains were pinned back, letting the sun in. A tear rolled down his cheek. The tear was glowing a soft purple. The boy brought his left wrist in front of his face and traced the golden tattoo that encircled it. The tattoo appeared to be a beautiful bracelet, identical on both wrists. However, they wear handcuffs, binding him to an inevitable future. Anger flooded his veins and he screamed in agony, throwing a punch at the air, sending a wave of force across the room, puncturing a hole in the fragile wall.
He was hysterical now. Eyes wide with tears accompanying them. Hands gripped the roots of his hair violently. His episode was interrupted by a knock at the door. He could tell by the soft nature of it, that it was Jin. Jimin didn’t answer but the elder man entered anyway. He slipped inside the room and closed the door. He made his way around the small bed and sat down next to Jimin. He wrapped a long around Jimin’s smaller frame and this induced the younger to collapse his upper body into Jin. Jin was taken by surprised for a second but then gave a small smile. He let the boy cry for a moment before he guided Jimin to look at him.
“H-how do you do it Hyung?” Jimin stuttered out through sniffs and wet tears.
“I had to get used to it. Life isn’t fair, Chim. I’m sorry.” Jin sighed and ran his hands comfortingly through his best friend’s hair. “I had to grow up really fast. When I first saw my wings, I was mortified. My parents threw me out of the house and called the police in fear of me. They thought I was possessed. The Patrol Unit for Youth Supernatural Control got to me first though. I was extremely lucky because not every Supernatural born into Natural families get rescued.” Jin took in a small breath and continued. “The unlucky ones get- taken care of by the government.” Jin said in a weak voice. “I may not have parents, but I have you guys. You helped me accept that I was a Black Swan hybrid.” “I just want you to know, Jimin, that you’re not alone. You know (Y/N), the one in your Classical Studies class?” Jimin nodded gently. “She’s a Fire Bird.” Jimin turned to face Jin.
“Really?” Jimin mumbled and Jin nodded. “How do you know?”
“Well...”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“C’mon Jinnie! We’re playing boys versus girls!” A 10 year-old Jung Hoseok cheered, tucking on Jin’s arms. Jin felt a reoccurring sharp pain around his shoulder blades.
“Ho-hobi I need to use the restroom, I’ll be back in a second.” Hoseok groaned and walked back into the gymnasium.
“You stupid things! Please go away!” Seokjin cried, pulling violently on his large, black-feathered wings. The boy heard the shuffle of shoes entering the deserted locker room and he froze. A face peered around the entry into the locker room. A girl. She had (E/C) eyes, too big for her face and her hair was flowing down her back in a low ponytail, it was the colour of pure inferno. The pair made eye contact for a brief moment before the girl made her way towards Jin. He backed away in fear and confusion.
“Wait, wait. Let me help,” the girl said and Jin lowered his arm from his face. The girl pulled out a small bottle of a dark blue substance. She twisted the silver lid off and dipped her fingers into it. “Turn around.” Jin stared at the girl like she was crazy. She laughed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m like you!” She smiled. Jin gasped and then slowly turned around. She rubbed the Vaseline-like substance around the base of the wings, where they came out from his skin. She massaged it into the surrounding skin with care. The wings started to relax, before disappearing in a small cloud of black powder. To say Jin was shocked would be an understatement. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N). I moved here last month.” She stuck her hand out in front of Seokjin.
“I’m Kim Seokjin.” He smiled warmly before taking her hand. “You said you were like me. Do you have wings too?”
“Kind of!” She giggled before she stood up from the wooden bench. She took in a breath, closed her eyes and with a quick swirl of red flames, she transformed. She wasn’t a human anymore. Her skin was now made of fire, her hair of lava. She had grown wings that took the form of a bird’s.
“You-your skin, your clothes!” Jin exclaimed.
“I don’t burn what I don’t want to. I learned to control it.” She smiled before transforming back into her human form. “I’m a fire bird, a supernatural. I’m guessing you’re a hybrid,” she said, hand on her chin.
“I wasn’t aware there were different types,” Seokjin scratched his head in embarrassment.
“Supernaturals are the ones that can complete and entire transformation and typically have powers that can be use din our human form. Hybrids, however, only have what they do.” Jin nodded. “And the stuff I put on your wings is what my mum made for me. I use it sometimes. You can have this one though. I have lots,” (Y/N) smiled and gave Jin the bottle.
“We better get back to sport,” Jin laughed and (Y/N) nodded. “I’m sure Hoseok is waiting for me quite impatiently.” The ravenette pouted and (Y/N) chuckled.
The pair made their way to the gym where Hoseok and (Y/N)’s friend Chou Tzu-yu waited. Hoseok had his arms crossed and Tzu-yu ran over to (Y/N).
“Finally! Let’s beat these chicks!” Hoseok yelled and the boys all cheered.
“Yeah right, Jung. We’re gonna send you to Hong Kong!” (Y/N) fired back, hand gripping a dodge ball already, and the girls cheered.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Wow, Hyung. I never knew you and her were close.” Jin hummed in response as Jimin sat up, placing his hand on his head after the quick blood-flow back to his brain. “Does she know about me?” Jin shook his head.
“I don’t plan on telling her. That’s something you can do when you feel comfortable.” Jin sat up off the bed and made his way to the door. “We have to go back to school or we’ll be late.” Jimin nodded and wiped a bit of snot threatening to leak from his nose.
“Hyung-” Jimin called and Jin looked over his shoulder. “Thank you.” The elder boy smiled before returning to the living room, Jimin trailing behind.
“There’s our Chim!” Taehyung grinned, putting Jimin in a headlock and ruffling his hair.
“HEY! STOP!” The shorter boy whined, trying to escape the wrath of Taehyung. The younger gave up and wrapped an arm around Jimin and ran a hand through his blue hair as the boys filed out of the house with their bags.
“I have Economics next.” Jungkook sighed.
“I’ve got Food Tech!” Jin chimed and Jungkook pouted.
“At least we have English together in fourth~” Hoseok said calmly and the boys nodded.
“I pissed off Yoongi-Hyung though.” Jimin said.
“You’ll be fine, Chim. He’s not gonna be made at you forever.” Namjoon replied and the other hummed in agreement.
Once the boys had made it school, they all split up to go to their classes. Jimin pull his black hoodie over his head and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Leave me alone, you cow!” Jimin heard a girl yelled and it caught his attention. he pulled down his down his hood and looked over his shoulder. In the corridor he just passed he saw the back of a tall girl with slightly wavy, auburn hair that reached her shoulders. She had tanned, strong legs that were smoothly shaven. Chou Tzu-yu. She had a girl only a few centimetres shorter than her pinned to the grey, metal lockers. this girl had hair the colour of fire. Her (S/C) arms were pinned beside her head and she was struggling against the grip of Tzu-yu. It was (Y/N) (L/N).
“Not until you give me what I asked for~” Tzy-zu sang and (Y/N) growled. “What’s wrong (Y/N)? Can’t transform?” Tzy-zu mocked and then cackled. (Y/N) tried to kick Tzu-yu but she slammed her body directly onto her. “I’ve always been stronger than you (Y/N). I always will be. Now, give me what I want!” The tall girl seethed.
“I’M NOT KISSING YOU, CHOU!” (Y/N) screamed, attempting to get away from Tzu-yu once more.
“Yah! Stop!” Jimin intervened and tried to push the taller girl away from (Y/N). The girl was caught by surprise, giving Jimin the opportunity to get (Y/N) away. Tzu-yu stumbled back and growled at Jimin.
“This doesn’t concern you, Park.” She dusted herself off and stormed towards the pair. Jimin slashed the air with his hand, created a storm of sharp, purple sand. It hurled at Tzu-yu and sliced her skin painfully. She screamed and Jimin grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, pulling her into the old girls locker room. It was at the end of the school hallways, the part that has boarded up windows and had dust collected in every corner. The flickering lights littered on the ceiling of the locker room served little purpose. Jimin and (Y/N) sliced down behind a row of punched-in, rusted lockers. The room was abandoned 7 years ago when a fire started in the showers. Three girls and an unidentified male died. The cause of the fire was ruled to be an arson but not legal action was taken as there were no suspects. The school board decided to close that section of the school instead of fixing it.
(Y/N) ran her hands through her slightly greasy roots.
“Are you alright? What was that back there?” Jimin questioned.
“I’m- I’m fine. It’s not the first time it happened.” She responded. This angered Jimin.
“What kind of human does that?” His voice now laced with anger. The redhead shook her head.
“Gross ones like her.” They sat there in silence for a few moments. “How much did you hear?”
“I started listening at ‘you cow.’“ Jimin said and (Y/N) chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’m like you.” He said. The girl looked at him in surprise. “Jin-Hyung told me about the day you helped him.” He explained and she nodded.
“What are you?” Jimin bit his lip and looked away.
“I- I haven’t really accepted what I am.” He warned and (Y/N) gave him a sympathetic smile. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Not everyone is the same.” He nodded.
“I’m a Genie.” This sentence made the girl’s mouth drop to the floor. She leaned over and picked up his left arm.
“Can- can I?” She asked and Jimin nodded. She slowly rolled up his sleeve, unveiling the intense gold tattoos encircling his wrists and blossoming up his arm, disappearing up the rest of his sleeve. “Jimin- They’re gorgeous!” She gasped and Jimin felt his face heat up. “I thought Genies were bred out of existence, the stuff of fiction.” She continued gaping at Jimin’s tattoos. He gently retracted his arm and pulled down his sleeve.
“Not all.” Is all the boy said before standing up. “I think she’s gone.” He put out his hand to help (Y/N) and she took it. She dusted herself off and peaked around the lockers. She sighed with relief and started to walk out of the old locker room. She paused for a moment and threw a glance over her shoulder.
“Thanks, Jimin. It means a lot.” She smiled and walked off, leaving Jimin with his thoughts.
#BTS#Jimin#jimin x reader#hybrid#bts au fic#hybrid jimin#Park Jimin#Kim Seokjin#Min Yoongi#Kim Namjoon#Kim Taehyung#Jeon Jungkook#Jung Hoseok#highschool au#twice tzuyu#fanfic#fanction#(Y/N)#fluff#angst#smut
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There’s Magic in the Night
A new year is breaking, and it's full of possibilities.
⬅️ Previous
(Reminder: not Repugnant accurate.)
It’s a 15min walk from the nearest subway stop in a part of the city that hosts low-income and broke college folk, and you’re beginning to wonder if your heeled boots were the best choice—but the shiny patent of them so nicely offset your cheap pink and black tulle skirt and fuzzy black crop sweater with inlaid tinsel that you’d decided on form or function. You’d almost changed your top when Mary had knelt and given your tummy a raspberry where it hung over the waistband a little, but his cute little pout had placated you a little after you’d threatened to do just that.
“You want a piggyback?”
“Nah, I’m all right, Mare. We’re almost there, right?”
“Yeah.”
Using his chin, he indicates a house down the block with a light on in every window and that’s lit up with string lights. It’s a little run down, but not falling apart. The neighborhood is full of three-story homes that are either co-ops or rented out by various floor configurations.
You’d tried to follow his explanation on who he knew and how, but the most you’d retained was that of the 6 people who rented the entire house, Mary knew 2 of them intimately. (“Yeah, they’ve had it every year that they’re lived there. I’m pretty sure a good third of the crowd is party crashers, but the more the merrier, right?”)
The closer you get, the louder the din from the house becomes—it sounds like there are 4 different playlists fighting for dominance, and the crowd ASMR is strong. There is a gang of smokers spilling from the front porch, down the cement steps, and clumped into murders in the small yard.
Ed and Dee are leaning against the railing on the steps, shivering in their best band tees as they take drags of their cigarettes.
“Hey, man!” says Mary as he leans forward and engages them both in a sloppy approximation of a cool, secret handshake.
“Hey, Goore!”
“Long time no see, dude.”
You nod at them, and they nod back.
“Where’s the rest of the gang?” asks Ed as he strains to see behind you in the dark.
Apparently Mary usually pregamed with his bandmates and then they headed over en masse later in the night. Horrified, you’d tried to convince him to uphold the tradition, but he’d insisted he could break off one year (“I’m not gonna toss you to the wolves, Suey. I see those assholes all the time.”).
Mary blows out a breath, and it hangs in the air like the puffs of smoke.
“Still pregaming. They’ll be by later. I wanted to give Suey the grand tour.”
Mary makes a sweeping motion, then wraps that arm around you. Ed and Dee’s eyes flick back to you.
“He’s a fucking liar; he was afraid one of you would steal me away.”
Ed coughs out the drag he was taking, and Dee snorts.
“You’re killing my street cred, woman.”
“Whatever, dude,” says Dee with a smirk, and Mary glowers at him. “You wanna bum one?” Dee holds out his pack as if in contrition.
Mary’s hand twitches, but he shakes his head.
“Nah, dude. Not unless it’s that chronic shit.”
“Yeah, they got those somewhere.”
“Cool. Cool cool cool.”
A few merrymakers exit the house—laughing and screaming—and they push by the lot of you as they presumably journey on toward another party.
“All right, dudes. We’re gonna go make the rounds, get some cold ones. See you on the other side!”
“Sounds good!”
“Do it.”
Mary ushers you inside, and—despite the open door—the warmth of the house hits you, making you feel suddenly uncomfortable in your winter coat. Like the outside, there’s a general mass of bodies that are sectioned off (in the hall; on the stairs; spilling out of the kitchen; lounging in the living areas) like music notes in a run of measures. You spot a worn-looking chair that’s piled high with coats, and you go to toss yours on, but Mary grabs your arm.
“Geez, Suey. You wanna get your coat jizzed on?”
“I—what?”
“C’mere, let’s not add our stuff to the pile that’s gonna make someone a nice sex bed later.”
He yanks your coat out of your hands and opens a door that leads to the hall closet. A beach ball tumbles out and is joyfully absconded with by a trio of party goers walking by, and Mary catches one golf club in his hand as it falls out from the top shelf and another under his arm. Unfortunately, he doesn’t catch the one that hits his booted foot, but you managed to stand on tiptoe enough to prevent the entire bag from depositing its contents on Mary’s head.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
Between the two of you, you manage to get the clubs back in order from whence they fell.
You can see that there’s other junk up there and in the back—whether it lives there permanently or was just shoved in there pre-party, you guess you’ll never know—but there’s an entire row of coats on a rod, which seems to be the closet’s main purpose.
“Here.” Mary rifles through the mess until he finds a free hanger. It takes some adjusting, but he finally gets his leather jacket and your coat onto the same hanger and manages to squeeze it back into the mass.
“OK. Let’s go find Shonda.”
“Not Murray?”
“Apparently he’s elsewhere tonight.” He shrugs.
There’s a sudden squeal of voices, and when you turn, you see Kara and Elsie hurrying toward you. Elsie is in a sequined dress so garish it must be fashionable and Kara sports a sparkly red sweater over black jeggings that she’s wrapped fairy lights around.
“So you’re not dead!” says Kara
“Uh … no?”
“Christ, I would have called you, but I’ve spent the last few days with my head in a toilet,” laughs Elsie.
“Yeah, thanks for that guys,” says Mary. “What I really wanted to do at the crack of dawn was take care of this lush.”
“Pffft,” snorts Elsie. “You’re one to talk, Goore. As if your head doesn’t live in the toilet.
“Yeah, total karma, Mary. Remember that time you got your stomach pumped?”
“Jesus, Mare,” you say at him with a bemused smile. He scowls.
“Look. Honey whiskey goes down easy.”
Elsie and Kara cackle before grabbing up your hands.
“C’mon, let’s get you a drink, hon,” says Kara.
“What about me?” pouts Mary.
Elsie sniffs over her shoulder at him as she pulls you down the hall.
“Sorry, Goore. Girls only. Go set shit on fire or something.”
“That was once!” you hear Mary call down the hall after you.
“Wait—what did he set on fire?”
Elsie looks at you and mimics locking her mouth and throwing away a key.
The kitchen is full of bodies. In one corner, there’s a game of beer pong set up, and in the other, people are digging beer containers out of a giant cooler. On the counter are a few bowls half-filled with various snacks—the other half of which seem to be spilled over the counter and crushed into the linoleum floor. There’s a dark-skinned woman in a black & white plaid rockabilly dress and red cardigan who’s struggling to empty a bag of ice into a second cooler.
“Here—let me help, Shonda,” says Kara as Elsie leads you to the full cooler.
Shonda looks up. “Yeah, could you? Dunno where my asshole roommates are.”
By the time the two of them have the contents of the bag in the cooler—the cubes sliding in with a rough whoosh and plinking softly over the beers in the bottom—you and Elsie have fresh beers that she’s poured into solo cups.
“Thanks, Kar.” Shonda wipes her hands on the bottom of her dress, makes a face, then fumbles for a dingy kitchen towel hanging over the fridge door handle.
“Shonda,” says Elsie, catching the woman’s attention. She pushes you forward a bit. “This is Mary’s new squeeze.”
“Oh, um, hi.” You stick out your hand.
“No shit.” Shonda gives you a once over before giving your hand one firm shake. She nods a few times. “Yeah, ok. I see it.” She pats you on the arm. “Good luck with that.” She turns to Elsie. “Is that little shit here? We need to have words.”
Elsie jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “We left him down the hall.”
“He can run but he can’t hide,” Shonda says as she stomps away in impressively high red heels.
“Do I need to go defend his honor?”
Kara snorts.
“Nah,” says Elsie, waving your question away. “She’ll probably just make him do the heavy lifting the other stooges wheedled their ways out of.”
“He is stronger than those skinny arms make him look,” you muse.
Kara leans in. “Oh?”
You grin at her.
The two of them lead you into what must be a dinning room that seems to be the official set up for the snacks and libations. A bar with liquor and mixers have been arranged in the built-in, and there’s a folding table in the corner with an array of chips, snack foods, and a pile of wilted-looking pizza boxes. There’s a center table—which looks more permanent—that some sort of drinking game is occurring over.
You make a beeline for the pizza.
“I think I need a good base.”
As you juggle the pizza slices on a plate on the top of your cup, Kara and Elsie talk rapid fire across you, sometimes asking you questions (about you, about Mary, about you and Mary), other times going into long-winded stories about people you’ve never met, but are hilarious nonetheless.
“Fuck. I’m not drunk enough for this party yet,” Kara laments.
“Well, yeah,” says Elsie. “I thought we’d get our game on.” She pokes you in the belly, and you suck your stomach in away from her touch. “You done ‘getting your base’ yet?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” You dump the paper plate and crusts into a trash bag slumped in the corner.
About the time Elsie is squeezing you three into the game at the table, Mary wanders in. His face brightens when he sees you, and he makes his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind.
“There you are, baby doll.”
“I thought I told you ‘girls only,’ Goore,” says Elsie.
He jabs a finger at her. “I gave you more than enough time to monopolize my girlfriend, Ford.”
“Just keep your dick in check.”
“I do what I want.”
For the next half hour, you engage in a rousing game of flip cup, which you have always been terrible at, but Mary seems to dominate. By the end, Kara and Elsie are hitting their buzz—playfully shoving themselves and others—and you’re beginning to feel more at ease in this sea of unfamiliar people.
Ed and Trevor wander in and motion to Mary, but seem to address the whole crowd.
“Yo!” says Ed. “Wanna go upstairs?” He stimulates smoking a joint at Mary.
“Yeah, man!” Mary turns to you. “You wanna join?”
You shake your head. “Can’t. I get tested.”
“Laaaame,” says Kara, and you jump because you didn’t realize how close she’d gotten.
“You sure it’s ok?” Mary scrunches his face.
“Yeah, Mare. Go! Be free!”
“Don’t worry, Mare,” says Elsie coyly as she drapes an arm around you. “We’ll take good care of Suey.”
Mary looks horrified enough that you think he might change his mind, but then Ed and Trevor are pulling him away. Elsie looks down at you.
“What did you do to that boy?”
You squint up at her. “What do you mean?”
Kara insinuates her way in between you and hands you both disposable shot cups.
“She means you’ve got him pussy whipped.”
You scrunch your face further. “Mary? He’s like a stray cat that shows up sometimes for food.”
“Is the ‘food’ ‘sex’?” Kara jumps her eyebrows at you.
Laughingly, you shove at her. “Maybe.”
Elsie throws her hands up. “PUSSY. WHIPPED.” She downs her shot.
You and Kara follow suit.
“Ok, but seriously,” you half cough as you wipe a dribble off your chin. “Mary does what he wants. I don’t tell him what to do.”
“Aww, hon—we know,” says Kara. “Elsie is just giving you a hard time.”
Elsie shrugs. “I’m a Class A Bitch.”
“She is,” agrees Kara. She turns her cup upside down; a few droplets drip out. “Hey, bitch—go get us more suds!”
“Demanding,” grips Elsie, but she turns to make her way into the kitchen.
You and Kara wander over to the food table to graze, the howls from the newest drinking game dolcet background noise.
“Hey, I know Elsie tends to make people butthurt, but she just has no filter.”
“Oh. No, it’s fine.” You shrug. “People tend to think I’m an elitist snob, so I try to be, um, more open minded.”
Kara grins at you. “‘Splains why you’re dating Mary.”
You throw a withered carrot stick at her. “Don’t fucking call me out like that.”
Kara laughs as she tries to block the attack. The conversation seems to stall after that, so you try and dredge up a question.
“So you guys know Mary from high school or something? Mary was … vague.”
“Just Elsie. That’s why she’s a little protective. He’s seen some shit.”
“Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. You turn to look at Kara. “Did they ever …?”
Kara waves her hand at you dismissively, swaying slightly. “Shit, we’ve all fucked around with each other at some point or other.”
Your eyes bug out. “You and Mary?”
She snorts, and leans toward you at a dangerous angle. “Well I never slept with Mary. But I’ve been with Elsie and Dee, and Mary with her and Trevor, and Trevor and Dee had a thing with Ed.” She screws up her face. “I think I got that right. I can never keep it straight, honestly.” Kara shakes her head out; then her expression changes and she bites her lip. “Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve told you all that.”
You pop a Jax in your mouth. “Mums the word, sister”
As she’s giving you a sloppy, grateful smile, Elsie finally appears—tottering carefully—with three solo cups precariously balanced between her hands and tits.
“Shit—come get your drinks.”
You and Kara scramble to relieve Elsie of her haul without dropping the prizes as the drinking game breaks with an Awwwwwww.
“You guys wanna with another round?” Elsie throws her thumb over her shoulder as she sips from her cup.
“Fuck yeah, you know it!” exclaims Kara as she throws her hands up, beer spilling over the side.
After doing OK in a few rounds of Finger Spoof (you’re feeling the buzz nicely), you look around and realize you haven’t seen Mary in a while. You leave Kara and Elsie to their own devices and head into the kitchen. Grabbing your own solo cup in your teeth—ignoring it as some of its contents sloshes over the side and down your chin—you fish for a lite beer floating in the lukewarm cooler water for Mary.
If you can locate him.
He’s not in any of the rooms downstairs, nor is he outside with smoker’s club. You make your way up to the second floor, hoping he’ll be easy to find up there. There’s a door that’s locked and another where there’s a group hanging out on the bed and each other as Kpop loudly plays.
You find Mary in an open bedroom full of haze. He’s softly strumming an acoustic guitar—his fingers fumbling slightly on the unfamiliar strings as he tunes his way up the frets. He’s propped up in a corner, legs crossed under him, as the others in the room pass a joint around.
Picking your way carefully through the crowd, you make your way over to Mary. People shift and sway out of the way and scoot over when you smush yourself in next to him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” You lean your head onto his shoulder, and Mary passes off the guitar to someone else. “Where’re Ed, Edd, and Eddy?”
He snorts.
“Went in search of snackies.”
He looks down at the beers resting in the small slick of condensation on the floor and licks his lips.
“One of those for me?”
“Yeah,” you say as you hand him the room-temperature bottle, which he takes up and chugs half of in one go. Watching his adam’s apple bobbing, you lean in to lick his neck. Mary jerks, then coughs, half spraying the beer out his mouth and nose. A few people squeal in surprise as you cackle, and Mary glares at you, wiping at his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his shirt that he’s curled over his hand.
“Fuck. You’re a pain in my ass.”
He drapes his arm around your shoulder, the bottle in his hand resting on your arm. The person who has the guitar now is strumming up a familiar song, and soon everyone is singing along (screaming or shrieking off key in some cases). Under the guise of getting his drink close to his mouth, Mary subtly maneuvers you into his lap—his other hand sneaking up under your shirt hem to rest on the curve of your belly with the tips of his fingers brushing just under one cup of your bra. You’re too loose from the drinking game to really care, so you lean back into his chest, warbling along to the tune as well.
You’re swaying, drink in hand, as you screech along to another song, when suddenly you become very aware of Mary’s erection pressing into your ass.
You turn your head. “Seriously?”
He rumbles into your ear. “Whaddya want? You’re squirming on my lap.”
Giggling, you purposely grind back on him, and he grabs your hips.
“Fuck, baby doll—keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess.”
You lean your head back on his shoulder as you circle your hips.
“You love making a mess, Mare Bear.”
He leans down to bite at your neck.
“I love making a mess on you. Not in my pants.”
“So stop me.”
Mary’s arm comes around your waist, effectively pulling you flush against him.
“FucK.”
More people wander in as the songs turn from nostalgic familiars to those of the drinking variety, and they raise solo cups and bottles in joyful celebration.
Everyone is sloppy; some sway to the rhythm of the songs, others drunkenly half mosh, spilling their drinks everywhere. You grinding your ass back into Mary—and him twitching up into you—is hardly a blip on anybody’s radar. His head thunks down onto the slope of your shoulder, his hips wanting to rut faster than subtlety or your own movements allow.
People are stomping, clapping, and spraying beer on each other as they half mutter words to drinking songs they realize they only half know.
Mary is a mess, trembling as he presses into you and mewling softly with each pass. Conversely, you’re having a grand ole time: rocking your hips as you sway and sing along to whatever the person in possession of the guitar is currently playing. Ignoring your own wetness and the growing throb in between your legs, you try to give him the pressure he needs.
You can feel his chest heaving into your back and the sweat from his forehead on your skin when it’s clear he’s getting close. His limbs shake as his arms squeeze you tighter, his movements almost stilling to nothing—and then he blows out a held breath like a drumbeat, his crotch pressing into you in pulses as he bites down into the juncture of your neck. Gasping, you spill a good amount of your drink as you jerk forward—Mary still rutting shallowly into you.
A few people cheer at your party foul—which hopefully takes any attention off Mary, who is clearly no longer hiding the fact that he’s cumming hard in his pants. He finally slumps behind you, his arms loosening and sprawling open.
“Shit,” he says.
You lean back. “Mmm … good?” you purr.
His hands sneak back under your top to sink into your flesh, and he leans up enough to whisper into your ear.
“You’re a fucking menace.”
“You could’ve stopped me.”
He growls. “You know what you touching my dick does to me.”
“Was I, though? Touching your dick?”
Mary rubs his face into your neck as his hands squeeze your chub.
“Close enough.”
“Get a room, Goore!” screams someone before some of the group toss a couple of empty solos your way.
Mary looks up and grins.
“Maybe I fucking will.” He starts to stand up, bringing you with him—probably to hide the wet patch on his jeans. “See you losers later.”
There’s a general chorus of hoots and whistles, but mostly the crowd goes back to their drinking songs.
“Are we really getting a room?” you ask—arousal curling—as Mary directs you around the second floor, hands on your hips to keep you in front of him.
“A bathroom, yeah.”
There’s a slight wait—one Mary fills with his roving hands and lips—before the woman ahead of you stumbles out, wiping her wet hands ineffectually on her party dress.
Mary ushers you in, locking the door behind you. The two of you look down to inspect the damage. It’s actually not terrible. You can hardly tell at all on his jeans, and Mary undoes them so he can half shuck them down. His boxer briefs are a completely different story; they’re visibly soaked through at the top, and when he peels away the waistband, he reveals a sticky, slimy mess coating his stomach and flaccid cock.
“Shit. This may be a lost cause,” he says as he inspects the inside of the fabric.
“TP?”
“Yeah, unless you wanna lick it off …” Mary looks up at you with a smirk. “Which would be kinda hot, actually.”
“Sorry,” you say as you roll toilet paper around your hand, “but I like my jizz how I like my coffee: hot and fresh from the source.”
He runs a finger through the mess and then wiggles it at you. “It’s still kinda warm!”
You wrap your mouth around it because it’s the last thing he expects you to do.
“Uh …”
He’s momentarily rendered speechless as he watches you suck his finger clean and then smack your lips as if appraising.
“Nah. None of that reheated crap either.”
He blinks down at you. “Should I be horrified that I’m rubbing off on you?”
You give him a smile with your tongue half sticking out as you rub the wadded up toilet paper across his belly.
“I’m pretty sure I was just rubbing you off, Mare.”
Mary’s hands come up and sink into your hair. “Shut up.” He pulls you into a deep kiss. “Fuck. Love it when you tease me,” he says as he pulls away.
“I know.” You beam up at him and continue trying to clean him up.
He looks down at himself. “Fuck it.” He goes to toe off his boots, realizes that he’s wearing his “dress boots”—the less-scuffed ones that lace up to his knees—and snarls in frustration.
When he goes for the medicine cabinet, you step out of the way and toss the slimed wad of paper into the toilet. Making an Ah-ha! noise, Mary turns to you and snaps a pair of hair scissors triumphantly.
“Do the honors, will ya?”
“Wait—you want me to … cut your boxers off?”
“I’m sure as fuck not taking these boots off or spending the rest of the night marinating in my own jizz.”
You snort at him. “Whatever you want, Mare Bear.” You shuffle forward and hop up onto the sink. It only teeters a little.
“Hey! Hurry the fuck up in there!” comes a male voice through the door accompanied by banging.
“Fuck off, I’m taking a dump!” barks Mary.
“Dude,” says the voice, but the banging stops.
Mary shifts forward into the V of your spread legs as he hands you the scissors. He keeps his face close to yours. “Try not to cut off anything important,” he breathes at you.
“Of course—you’re no good to me clipped.”
His eyes meet yours, then travel down to his crotch. Carefully (willing your eyes to focus), you start from the top down, snipping the fabric—bunching it up with each shear—until you reach the end of the leg up to the crotch, Mary only flinching slightly (“Careful with the goods, woman!” “Fucking hold still!”). Once each side is cut, Mary and you work together to pull each half free.
As you ball up the front half to toss into the trash basket, Mary uses the back half to wipe up the lingering stickiness coating his cock and stomach.
“Better?” you ask when he’s finished and zipping his jeans back up, the other half of his boxers joining its twin in the trash.
He wiggles a bit. “Eh, it’ll do.” You expect him to back off, but instead he crowds closer. “What about you, baby doll? Maybe I should check on you.”
Before you have a chance to respond, Mary is shoving up the layers of your skirt and pressing his hand into your damp tights. You gasp at the sensation.
“Hmm,” he rumbles, “seems like you could use some clean up yourself.”
And then he’s maneuvering his head in between your spread legs, trying to position your knees over his shoulders. You let out an Oh, as your hands fly down to brace yourself on the edges of the sink; Mary growls in frustration as he tries to first pull down your tights, then to rip them apart to no avail. Before you can stop him, he’s picked up the shears and has snipped a slit in your crotch.
“Mary!” you yelp, but he just dives back down, tongue wiggling through the rip in the fabric to trace your seam before delving into your folds to flick at your clit. At the burst of sweetness, you moan, and your head thunks back into the mirror.
Head swimming, you lose yourself in the feel of his tongue as it swirls around your nub and then presses into it a few times before he’s sucking it in between his plush lips. He repeats this process, sometimes running his tongue down to your entrance and then back up, and at others holding the tip directly on your clit until you start squirming in frustration … only to then flick repeatedly back and forth.
A finger enters you, and you cry out, “Oh fuck,” as you tighten around it. Mary starts to slowly ease it in and out of you as his tongue continues its massage of your hardening clit. You’re really squirming now, rocking into his mouth and down onto his finger—making sure you light up every sweet spot. You feel like a guitar string wound too tight, ready to snap, and your pussy pulsates in warning.
Mary sets his tongue speed to 11, and you feel the tidal wave of your orgasm start rushing toward you. You let out a squeak as your one hand sinks into Mary’s hair right before your climax breaks, and you start bucking into his mouth. Like a good boy, he manages to follow the lead of your hips until your pussy stops popping and your body relaxes—your butt slipping down into the bowl of the sink.
After catching your breath, you look down to find Mary’s twinkling eyes staring up at you from beneath the layers of your skirt. You pet down the side of his head with an Mmm, and his eyes close as he leans into the touch.
“I think you only made me stickier, Mare.”
His head tilts to rest on your one leg.
“Not my fault you get wet as fuck. There’s only so much I can lap up at once.”
You shift up into a sitting position as Mary wipes his face—and the lower part of his makeup—onto your tights.
“Shit. Are the tights a lost cause too?”
“Stand up?”
You hop off the sink, and Mary inspects your backside. He gives it a slap before saying, “Nah, I think you’re good. Just a little damp.”
You crinkle your nose. “Well, I feel slimy. Turn around so I can take care of business.”
Mary peers into the mirror to even out his smudgy face before slurping some tap water from the faucet as you get your situation into a tolerable state.
When the two of you exit the bathroom—Mary’s arm draped back around your shoulders—there are two guys lounging on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the 3rd floor. They look up at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and one scrunches his face at you.
“Dude. I thought you were taking a shit.”
He holds up a blackened Yankee candle.
Mary shrugs at him. “We don’t kink shame here.”
The guy’s companion bursts out laughing even as you elbow Mary in the ribs. He just laughs as he says, “C’mon let’s get some suds.”
The two of you make your way back down to the kitchen where Shonda The Beer Færie has replenished the coolers again. Mary shotguns a can—foam spritzing everywhere—as you search for the elusive opener. Unable to locate it, you try—and fail—to pop the top off on the counter.
“Gimme,” says Mary—belching—grabbing for your bottle. After fishing for another bottle in the ice, he aligns the caps and pops them both with the other.
“My hero,” you say in an affected tone as you bat your curled eyelashes at him.
“That’s fucking right.” He makes an arm in an attempt to bulge his bicep.
You test it with your hand. “Nah. Too small, throw it back.”
Pouting at you, he says, “You’re the worst, and we’re in a fight.”
You shrug as you take a swig of beer. “Eh. I got what I wanted.”
Mary makes a grab for the bottle, but you twist out of his reach and bolt out of the kitchen. He doesn’t catch you before you seek sanctuary in the living room. All the furniture has been pushed against walls, the rug rolled and resting in a corner, and more bodies than there should be are packed into the center as a party mix thumps from the speakers.
You wiggle your way into the crowd and run into Kara and Elsie, who shout Hooray! and pull you into their bump and grind. The 3 of you raise your drinks into the air to avoid spilling on each other as you rock and sway, alternating who gets sandwiched.
Suddenly, Mary is at your elbow.
“Hey! Gimme back my girlfriend!”
“Sorry, Goore,” says Elsie. “Finders keepers.”
For a minute he looks genuinely put out, but then he just smirks. “Whatever, I’ll just enjoy the view.”
“Pig,” Kara spits.
Mary shrugs and starts to do a god-awful wiggle that you think is supposed to be dancing. He has the rhythm—and his ass jiggle is pretty nice—but that’s about all he’s got going for him in the moves department.
The mix must be trying to appeal to all types, but ends up being a spastic mix with no eye for continuity. Nineties Girl Pop transitions into Metal, which transitions into Country, then into Alternative, then to 80′s Power Ballad, then R&B, then Punk.
After screaming along to “Toxic”, Elsie leans in. “Fuck, I’m about to pass out. I need to get some air.”
“Want me to come with you?” asks Kara.
“Up to you, dear.”
They look at you.
“I should throw Mary a bone.”
Kara smirks at you. “Kinky.”
Elsie rolls her eyes at her friend. “C’mon you bitch ass.”
Seeing his opportunity, Mary gives a head nod as he seamlessly switches places with them. He pulls your back into him as his hands come round to rest on your hips.
“Good thing you emptied my dick earlier, or we’d have a problem,” he murmurs into your ear.
“Don’t be gross.”
“K.”
You and Mary grind or shimmy or jump depending on what the song calls for, your beer long drunk by now. At some point someone opens a window, and the chill, near-January air curls in—its icy but brisk tendrils working their way through the crowd. You shiver a little as the sweat on your skin tingles and cools at its touch, and Mary pulls you in tighter.
Meatloaf comes on—🎶 On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? 🎶—and Mary snuffles his face into the crook of your neck, you tilting your head to the side to give him access.
🎶 Will he offer me his teeth? 🎶
He worries at you with his teeth.
🎶 Will he offer me his hunger? 🎶
His blunt teeth sink into you, and you let out a pleased rumble.
🎶 And will he starve without me? 🎶
“Yes,” he whispers into your ear right along with Jim Steinman.
You roll your eyes even though Mary can’t see you do it, but you let him spin you out—jostling the other revelers—and back into him (stumbling) as the drum beat drops. He tries to twirl you, but the crowd has packed back in around you, and all you accomplish is tripping over his boots.
🎶 …I was dying just to ask for a taste 🎶 he mouths at you.
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” you say.
He leans in and nips at your lips, but you turn your head to whisper in his ear.
“I gave you a taste earlier, mister.”
“Mmm, but I’m greedy.”
You let him mouth at your neck as the two of you sway back and forth, Mary’s hands dipping lower and lower.
A sudden commotion is like a record scratch, and everyone turns to the front hall. Mary’s bandmates come into sight—caterwauling with 12 packs of shitty beer held aloft—encouraging the cheers of the other partygoers.
One spots Mary and points his finger at him.
“Goore! Goore! Goore!”
The other band members pick up the chant.
“Goore! Goore! Goore!”
The crowd takes up what has become a war cry:
“Goore! GOORE! G O O R E !”
Mary points back, then puts his hand up in supplication at you as he backs his way out of the room.
“You’re a goddamned tease!” you cry after him.
He shrugs before spinning on his heel to be assimilated in the group, the chant turning into whoops and hollers as they make their way into the kitchen.
Mary had warned you that the band usually did an unplugged set, and you surmise they must need to set up.
Without Mary or the girls, the dance room has lost its appeal, so you meander around the first floor. The drinking games have devolved into “Never Have I Ever,” and while the pizza is gone, a homemade-looking mac and cheese dish in a tinfoil baking pan has appeared.
You pile some onto a paper plate (whose structural integrity you seriously question) and are content to watch the proceedings until a girl in the circles demands you squeeze in with a slurred “None of this wallflower shit!”. They shove a solo cup into your hand, which is then promptly filled with whiskey from a Jack bottle.
For the next hour or so, the guests on either side of you—Lila and Marty—become the best friends you never knew you had while you all hoot and catcall each other to the escalating scenarios. The bromance comes to a swift end, sadly, when Dee appears in the doorframe, sees you, and points dramatically.
“It is time for the festivities!” he yells in deep baritone.
“I’m being summoned!” you yell, and there’s a chorus of boos as you wobbly make your way over.
“Come, yon neophyte, and join us at the gathering spot.”
“Lay on, McDee!”
Dee leads you out into the backyard, which is done up with myriad bulb lights. Mary winks at you as you pass him on the porch—picking your way around the hodgepodge of instruments—before you join Ed, Trevor, Kara, and Elsie at one side of a well-used iron fire pit on the grass. The girls are passing a flask back and forth as they snuggle you in between them.
It should be fucking freezing out, but with the alcohol, the body heat, and the fire, you actually feel quite cozy. There’s a buzz of voices as the band arranges and tunes the borrowed instruments. You think you can see human shapes on back decks in other lots, but it’s hard to tell through the glare of the lights.
The band members take their places, there’s a countdown, and then Mary and the guys jumpstart into their first crowd favorite. While there are some general cheers at favored sections, the intimacy of the party and the lack of mics or speakers make it a quieter affair than their venue shows. You and the girls sway back and forth in your triplet, and even the guys are fist pumping and mouthing along. They play two more of their own songs before doing a few classic 80′s punk covers that really get everyone hyped.
It’s not perfect—none of them are sober, they’re unaccustomed to the instruments, and the cold air isn’t helping dexterity. At one point the lead singer forgets the words and just la la las his way through the verse, which in turn sends some of the other members into a musical stutter. Not everyone is invested in the whole set—some people went back inside after the first few tunes, and others see the band as just background to their conversations. Those who are fully invested have gravitated closer to the porch—but your group of Mary’s bffls are content to hang out by the fire pit where a few people have started roasting marshmallows.
After an … interesting … mashup of “Rudie Can’t Fail” and “Classics of Love” that sounds like a physical representation of a key smash, the band closes ranks, and there’s some whispered conversation and emphatic gesturing.
“Ok!” says Donnie, the lead singer. “We’re gonna switch things up. Usually on backing vocals, Goore is going to take lead for our last song.” There are some boos that probably have more to do with the set ending than Mary singing, but also some whistles that are probably for Mary. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s a party for us too!”
“Huh,” says Elsie.
“What?” you say into her armpit.
“Mary hates lead.”
You know. He’s mentioned ad nauseam.
Mary steps forward and takes position up front. When he brushes his forelock out of the way, he looks up briefly and catches eyes with you. You give him thumbs up. A grin breaks out on his face, and he winks at you. Slowly, he strums chords until he finds what he’s looking for, and you can tell he’s humming along quietly—it’s a familiar sight now to you, but you wonder how much of this crowd has seen Mary chart out a song.
Finding the key he’s looking for, Mary clears his throat. His voice isn’t rich in timbre, but he rasps out with feeling, and his pitch is near perfect.
🎶 So I hear you been wondering
I've been wondering too
Just what this crazy world has in store for me and you 🎶
You’re surprised at his choice, and you feel your face burn. Mary’s eyes flick up to you—glinting boyishly—and you stick your tongue out at him. He slows the song way down as he sings, changing the frenetic energy of the original into a soulful ballad to which he can growl along.
🎶 You scratching to find a way
A tortured soul back from the grave
O Baby Doll back to kill them all
Now please won’t you stay 🎶
Mary pauses, looking full up at you before taking in a deep breath. A few heads turn to see who he’s looking at. You scrunch your face at him to convey your mortification, but he just shakes his head at you—he’s not going to stop.
🎶 Baby Doll whoa
Baby Doll
I need you
I love you
Baby Doll whoa
Baby Doll
O Please come back to me 🎶
You suddenly feel naked under the interested gazes of the curious onlookers as Mary continues on. He’s mostly singing at the guitar, but his few pointed glances at you make it clear who he’s singing to.
🎶 The tortures of your soul
The rotting flesh pain never dulls
O Baby Doll you will kill them all
Now please come to me 🎶
You try to sink back into Elsie and Kara, who just push you forward again.
“Dude,” Elsie breaths at you.
“This is awesome,” says Kara.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you mutter through your plastered on smile.
Some of the amassed crowd—which suddenly seems to have multiplied—start clapping to the slowed beat, and it causes a ripple of well-timed claps as well as those who can’t keep a rhythm.
Strumming in deliberate strokes, Mary looks up to hold your eyes once more.
🎶 I see you standing there
In the shadows and in the rain
A lifeless beauty
Nothing could ever ease you of all your pain
But Baby Doll the revenge you seek
I dunno
It will never be sweet
But you'll never give it up
Now come to me
Come on 🎶
You shake your head as Mary continues to repeat the chorus into a soft fade. There’s a moment of silence after he’s finished, and he points out at you.
“Give it up for my very own baby doll!”
Applause breaks out and you give him double Fs.
Mary sets down the guitar carefully as Donnie steps forward again.
“All right! That’s it, motherfuckers! We’re about an hour away from the New Year, so grab a drink and sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already!”
The crowd is whooping and whistling. A few people crowd up on the porch, as do Trevor, Ed, & Dee. Mary shakes hands, shoulder bumps, and backslaps his bandmates and some of the crowd, but his eyes are on you.
“I’d fuck him,” says Kara with a smirk.
Elsie groans. “Please don’t fuck in front of us. At least find a broom closet.”
You turn to her and give her a wolfish smile. “Who says we haven’t already christened it?”
Elsie buries her face in her hands as Kara tipsily attempts to fist bump you and ends up smushing your tit.
“Whoops! My bad!”
“Bitch, we’re cutting you off.”
“No, you’re not. Who would you do shots with?”
“Suey’s more than capable.”
You make a “who me?” face.
“Mebbe, but I think her mouth is spoken for.”
You’re about to respond, but arms suddenly encircle you, a mouth presses to your neck, and you squawk.
“If you’re not Mary Goore, you better watch your nuts!”
“I’m me, and I have to watch my nuts, anyway.”
You squirm around so that you’re facing him.
“Forget your nuts, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Aaaand on that note!” says Elsie, and she and Kara pat Mary’s arm before heading inside.
He looks down at you with hooded eyes.
“Whatever. You’re pleased. You fucking love that song.”
“Oh? Am I?”
“Yeah.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“I still have my nuts.”
You narrow your eyes at him, then point your finger in his face.
“You’re on thin ice, mister.”
“Mmm, I can think of a few ways you can take it out of my ass later.”
Your stomach flips, and you press into him, grabbing his jaw.
“Damn right I will.”
Mary bites his lip as you wiggle your hand in between the two of you to palm at his crotch. He closes his eyes and sways a little
and that’s when you step away from him.
“C’mon—my cup is empty. I need a refresh.”
Mary’s eyes pop open, and he whines while making an exaggerated puppy-dog face.
You snap your fingers at him. “That’s for earlier.”
There are still enough people mingling outside that it takes a while for the two of you to actually make it back inside—some are Mary’s friendly acquaintances he wants to say hi to and others are fans he can’t help but chat up.
“We’re going to be on Instagram again, aren’t we?” you say when you finally start your trek inside, his arm lazily resting around your shoulders.
His head turns to face you, and he gives you an impish smile.
“Tell me if I give a shit.”
You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You might give a shit later.”
His smile turns vulpine. “Promise?”
Your hand slips into his back pocket and squeezes.
It’s actually pretty close to the ball drop by this point, so you and Mary grab up two of the bargain plastic champagne glasses you find lined up in rows on the kitchen counter. When the cheap champagne starts being passed around like you’re all in a pirate shanty, you hold out the glasses (Mary’s already lost the base to his) for a fill.
There’s no way everyone is going to fit in the living room; the majority of the attendees are spilling out into the hall, up the stairwell, and out onto the porch, with you and Mary are squished in by the stairs—but the volume for Rocking New Year’s Eve is turned up so loud the speakers are fuzzing, and a few people are streaming it on the phones.
“T-Minus one minute!” someone screams, and a cheer goes up.
“Oh shit!” you exclaim and start digging around in your bra.
“What?” asks Mary as his eyes flick down to your tits.
You retrieve two silver dollars, warmed by your skin, and press one into Mary’s free hand.
“What’s this?” He holds the coin up at eye level.
“Silver dollar. If you hold onto one as the year turns over, it’s supposed to bring good fortune.”
He looks at you skeptically as he turns it this way and that. “Does it work?”
You shrug. “Can’t hurt. My grandma swore by it.”
“THIRTY SECONDS!”
“Where d’you even get these?”
You grin.
“Amazon.”
Shouts come from the living room: “10 … 9 … 8 …”
Mary turns to face you, and the two of you take up the chant.
“7 … 6 … 5…”
He crowds a little closer, the fist holding the coin draped over your shoulder with yours resting on his hip.
“4 … 3 … 2 …”
You don’t get out the “1” because Mary smashes his mouth to yours—just a hard press of lips to lips—then he’s pulling away to press his glass to your mouth. As you try to sip out of it, you fumble your own glass to his mouth. The two of you only succeed in spilling half the contents all over each other before conceding defeat.
There’s some shrieking a moment before everyone in the hall gets sprayed with foamy champagne. Since there really isn’t any room to escape, Mary and you try your best to duck and cover, laughing as the droplets come raining down. The beach ball from earlier comes out of nowhere, and you punch it back into the air, the plastic of it slick from the champagne shower.
Everyone is still screaming, separated friends are trying to find each other amidst the revelry, and some dude on the stairs is shouting Tennyson over an off-key rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”.
“Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky!”
🎶 Should old acquaintance be forgot, 🎶
Elsie and Kara are jumping up and down from where they are in the living room, pointing, and starting to make their way to you.
“The flying cloud, the frosty light!”
🎶 and never brought to mind? 🎶
The beach ball beans you in the face, and Mary takes it and lobs it onto the porch where it hits the back of Donnie’s head, causing the rest of them to cackle and holler back.
“The year is dying in the night!”
🎶 Should old acquaintance be forgot, 🎶
Like magic, Mary procures a half-full bottle of bubbly from the train of people maneuvering in the hall and takes a big swig before passing it to you. You chug the rest, coughing as the lukewarm bubbles fizz up your nose.
“Ring out, wild bells, and let him die!”
🎶 and auld lang syne? 🎶
Laughing, Mary wipes at your face with his sleeve, and you realize he’s still got the silver dollar clutched tight in his hand.
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Chapter Seven - Peeves The Poltergeist
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"You are not coming with us." Ron shouted, a look of horror on his face.
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us, I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and Camille will back me up." The French girl nodded at Hermione's convincing words; she would definitely rat the boys out in order not to get in trouble.
"Oh, the audacity-" Ron spat, face red with embarrassment.
"Shut it, both of you!" Harry whispered; his face wiped clean of all emotions but fear. "I can hear something."
"Hello?" Camille called out quietly, her voice echoing throughout the empty corridor.
A small sniffle sounded in reply, the group moving forward slowly to look further into the corridor. It was a boy, Neville. He was curled up in a ball on the floor, tears staining his cheeks. He seemed asleep, jumping awake when Camille gently tapped his shoulder.
"Camille! Thank goodness you've found me! I've been out here for hours waiting for someone to walk past me! I forgot the password to get back to bed and the portrait wouldn't let me in!" The boy rushed out, grabbing Harry's outstretched hand, and pulled himself up and onto his feet.
"Keep it down, Neville. The password's 'Pig Snout', you should probably write that down so you don't forget. Not that it will help you now, the Fat Lady's gone somewhere. We're all locked out."
"Hey, how's your arm?" Camille asked.
"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute, it was quite clever actually."
"That's great Neville!" Camille spoke, her hands examining his arm, not that she didn't trust Madame Pomfrey, she was just intrigued.
"Look, we have stuff to do, so I'm afraid we're going to have to go-"
"Don't leave me!" Neville shouted, clinging onto Camille's sleeve like a child would its mother, "The Bloody Baron's already been round twice and I don't want to make it a third!"
Sighing, Ron looked from Neville to the watch he wore loosely on his wrist. Throwing a glare to Hermione and Camille, who was still holding onto Neville tightly, he sighed.
“If either of you two get us caught I will personally feed you to the giant squid myself!” Neville grasped onto Camille tighter, and Hermione moved herself closer to the French girl who was looking at Ron with disappointment.
“Just be quiet,” she hissed, gesturing for Harry and Ron to carry on walking, letting go of Neville and grabbing Hermione’s hand, leaning into her slowly and whispering.
“If you want to go just say and I’ll leave with you, I’m kinda tired anyways.” Hermione smiled softly, shaking her head. “No it’s fine, I’m the one who wanted to come anyways.” The girl spoke softly, looking forward at the boys ahead. “Now let's go, before they’re too far away.”
The five Gryffindor’s made their way along the corridors, moonlight shining through the windows as they looked around carefully, wary of Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris. The halls of Hogwarts were beautiful, alike the exterior of the school. Paintings of other famous witches and wizards coated the walls, each having their own conversation with the painting next to them.
Speeding up the staircase to the third floor, Camille locked eyes with the trophy room that they had arranged to meet in, no Malfoy or Crabbe in sight. The five bustled into the room, each looking around in wonder at the crystal trophy cases that surrounded them.
“He’s late,” Ron whispered. “Maybe he’s chickened out.”
A noise in the next room caught Camille’s attention, her hand immediately reaching out for Hermione’s and her arm wrapping tighter around Neville, who was once again shaking with fear.
The voice of Filch, the caretaker, echoed through the room, “Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.” Camille cringed completely at the man’s way of speaking to his cat.
The five began to edge toward the door as Filch got closer to the trophy room, Camille whispering quietly to the others while gesturing towards a long line of suits of armor. She could still hear the heavy steps of Filch behind them, and the heavy meowing of his cat as they itched closer to the group of Gryffindors.
Turning around to check that everyone was together, Camille caught sight of Ron’s loose thread on his dressing gown that was trailing on the floor dangerously close to the suits of armor. She edged towards the ginger boy, her eyes locked on that bloody loose threat that could ruin their escape. “Ron,” she whispered aggressively, Ron not hearing her as he continued to walk with Harry. “Ron your dressing gown!” She whispered louder, however it was too late. Neville, the nervous boy he was, had jumped out of fright and startled Ron, who continued to trip over the loose thread and fall into the nearest coat of armor, causing a clanging and crashing that could awake the whole castle.
“Run!” Harry yelled as the five began to sprint down the hallway, ignoring the caretaker chasing after them. They ran around the doorpost and sped down the next corridor, Camille holding her wand in her hand firmly, still unsure of what could be lurking the halls of Hogwarts. Harry ripped through a tapestry, the others following him, finding themselves in a hidden passage. Camille breathed shakily as she looked around the dark hall, shivering as she caught sight of the many spiderwebs that surrounded them.
Continuing to run, Camille found herself near the Charms classroom they had been in just hours earlier, miles from the trophy room. Camille leaned against the wall, catching her breath as Harry next to her. “I think we lost him,” he panted looking at the girl, her mouth curling into a smile as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead.
“You think?” She said, Harry beginning to smile along with her, neither seeing the jealous glance Hermione was giving them.
“What did I say,” Hermione breathed, her hands clutching her chest as she bent over next to Neville and Ron, the latter whose face was redder than his hair.
“We need to get back to the common room,” Rom spoke aloud, “Like right now, before Filch catches up and we all end up in detention.”
“Draco tricked you,” Camille spoke, not missing the weird look she got from the rest at calling him his first name. As a child, she had always been told that to address people your own age properly is to address them by their first name, not their middle nor their last. And despite the blonde boy having already insulted many of her peers, Camille was not one to be rude to those she did not truly know. “He must have never planned to meet you, and Filch already knew someone was in the trophy one, Draco must have tipped him off.”
Hermione nodded along with the girl, clearly having thought the same thing.
“Let’s just go. ” The boy uttered softly.
A slight noise came from the door, a rattling, as if someone was attempting to enter. A white blur shot through the door and out of the classroom in front of them.
Peeves, the poltergeist that had been terrorising other first years on their first day floated in front of them, cackling in delight at catching them in the act.
“Ohh, ickle firsties out after curfew. Ickle firsties wandering around at night, aren’t you naughty? Tut tut tut, you’ll get caught.” The ghost chuckled, circling the five as they looked around, afraid Filch would appear at any time.
“Leave us alone Filch, please.” Camille whispered pleadingly, her hands fiddling with the end of her robe, having tucked her wand back in her pocket a few minutes ago.
“I really should tell Flich, you know?” The poltergeist spoke smugly.
“Oh just go away,” Ron snapped, pushing past Peeves and continuing to walk. Camille sighed and brought her hand to her temple; she should’ve just stayed in bed.
“Students out of bed!” The poltergeist yelled, his arms waving frantically. “Students out of bed and down the Charms corridor!” Camille and the others ducked under the ghost and ran into the nearest door; it was locked.
“What are we meant to do now?” An exasperated Ron asked, his face-in Camille’s opinion-looking like he had eaten a sour lemon. “We’re done for! This is the end of our school lives as we know it!”
Camille continued to pull at the door, her hands clamming up as they heard the footsteps of Filch edge closer. Hermione, seeing the girl’s panic, stepped in with her own wand raised. “Here,” she spoke gently, pulling the other girl away with her other hand. “Let me try.” Camille watched with wide eyes as her friend tapped the lock gently and whispered a quick unlocking spell.
The door unlocked and the Gryffindor’s bundled in the room, shut the door quickly and pressed up against it, attempting to listen through it.
“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Camille could hear Filch ask through the door, her hand shaking as it grasped for someone else’s in search for comfort.
“Manners don’t cost a thing my dear Filch.” The poltergeist chuckled.
“Just tell me for Merlin's sake.” The caretaker shouted, his anger growing.
“Say pleaseeeeee.” Camille felt a lump rise in her throat at the thought of peeves actually giving up where they were. She had never had a detention before, and did not want to get one in her first week at Hogwarts. She shivered as she felt someone breath heavily down her neck, distracting her from what was occurring outside the door.
Turning around, she froze in her spot. She had sworn this was a classroom, it looked the exact same as the one she had been in earlier, except now she looked closer, she spotted something that had blended in the darkness. A giant three headed dog. She thought back to the lack of portraits she had seen as they ran into the classroom and realised they were on the third floor. The forbidden corridor of the third floor.
“Harry,” she whispered sharply, tugging on his sleeve as the dog growled softly, its three heads looking at the five carefully, its mouth open as if it was as shocked as she was.
Harry turned along with the girl, his eyes widening also as he stared at the humongous creature, debating running out to Filch rather than stay in that room. Reaching his hand out, the boy pushed the door open and ran, the others following suit; they too had noticed the dog. Eventually reaching the seventh floor, the five stopped in front of the Fat Lady painting, of which looked very disappointed in the group.
“Where have you lot been? It’s almost midnight!” She spoke, shaking her head at the sweaty children.
“Pig-snout,” Camille spoke quietly, just wanting to get into bed. “Pig-snout!”
The portrait swung open and the sweaty bunch piled in, Camille collapsing on the armchair next to Hermione who looked at her with a smile. “Well that was fun, wasn't it?”
“What do they think they’re doing?” Ron spoke from his place on the other sofa with Harry and Neville, “keeping an animal like that in the school? Safest school in Scotland my arse.”
Hermione sighed at the three boys, “You really don’t use your eyes do you? No wonder you need glasses Harry. Didn't you see what it was standing on?”
Camille rubbed her eyes and leaned her head onto Hermione’s shoulder.
“It was standing on a trapdoor,” the French girl spoke in a bored voice. “Now if we’re all done here, can I please go to bed.”
“Yes,” Hermione spoke, moving Camille’s head off of her shoulder and standing up. ““I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to bed.”
The girl stormed off, Camille following in suit with a tired wave to the boys.
#harry#harry potter#harry potter x reader#hermione#hermione granger#hermione granger x reader#fluff#hogwarts#veela#fleur delacour
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Sojourn (Zutara Week 2020)
Summary: It's a strange fate that they have crafted for themselves; lines that don't quite meet, stars that circle each other, and stories that are almost written. (Or, glimpses into Zuko and Katara's lives, told in reverse, from the very end to the very beginning.)
[6/9] Hesitancy
“And that’s how it ends?” Kya really has tears in her eyes.
Katara smiles, and he thinks it’s the saddest he has seen her in years. “No, sweetie, of course not. Just because you don’t end up with someone doesn’t mean that’s the end.”
“So you can still be friends with them?”
Zuko stills, but Katara finally meets his eye, and it’s only fitting, he thinks, that this decision between them is also taken in silence; in the absence of words, and in a void that exists only between the two of them.
“Always, Kya. Always.”
Read the entire series here, and this chapter under the cut, or on AO3, or on FF.net.
124 AG
Zuko’s broadswords stop mid-air as fire and water explode around him, dissolving into a spray of mist.
Bumi, all of thirteen, drops his own weapon onto the sodden earth at the display, and the turtleducks erupt into commotion; Zuko barely registers any of it.
His eyes flit across the palace garden, find amused blue ones already on him. Katara cackles at what he’s sure is his own scandalized expression. Kya is eight, and Izumi is ten, and they’re already bending like they are masters.
“That was excellent,” Katara tells the girls who are grinning at each other, panting but clearly exuberant. “Wasn’t it, Fire Lord Zuko?”
The nickname brings him to his senses fully; he scowls at the woman who has a smirk dancing on her lips.
“It was like nothing I’ve seen,” he says, beaming at the girls. A thought occurs to him: “Bumi, I’m afraid you’re going to have me flat on my a—” he catches Katara’s glare, “—my back someday.”
The boy’s shoulders lift at that, and a bright smile breaks onto his face. “I totally will, Uncle Zuko!” He turns to his sister and Izumi, flashes them yet another grin. “First to race me to the courtyard wins my packet of fireflakes.”
Zuko blinks, finds Katara mirroring his action, as the kids take off in a scurry of activity.
“All that energy,” he muses. “I miss being young.”
Katara scowls at him, and jabs his forearm meaningfully. “You are forty, Zuko! Not ancient.”
“Wait till you are forty.”
She gives an airy sigh, tilts her head towards him, and says, “I’m sure I’ll still be kicking your ass then, Fire Lord.”
“Is that a challenge, waterbender?” If she has nicknames, then so does he.
“Maybe, it is.”
Katara’s eyes glint, in a way he knows too well. He doesn’t remember the last time he sparred with her, but it has always been a well-balanced dance; an endless duel of offense and defense.
She settles into one of her well honed stances, bending the water from the pond to conjure a shield in front of her. The smile never leaves her face though, and Zuko finds himself shaking his head at her eagerness.
“Oh, come off it, Zuko,” she calls out, clearly noticing his action. “It’s not like you don’t enjoy losing to me.”
“What was that saying you once told me about? All talk and no—”
A blast of water comes his way, and he counters it with two balls of flame. Oh, they are just getting started; testing each other, and seeing what lengths they are willing to take this.
He knows she won’t back down, hold back; she never does. And neither will he. That’s why they work.
“All talk and no walk, is that the one you were talking about?” Katara looks jubilant, a whip of water dancing in between her fingers.
He snorts, and sends a flare towards her in reply, punching into it with all his weight, and she meets it with equal force. Katara grins, and he’s had enough.
He charges forward, flames erupting from his fists, from the kicks he levels in her direction. She is trapped in her need for defense, eyes focused as they anticipate his next attack, arms moving with precision.
He closes in, knows it isn’t an entirely fair fight; she only has the water from the pond, and there’s boundless energy at his disposal. He wonders if that’s why she’s doing this; to prove she can win despite all the odds stacked against her.
It probably is; Katara’s stubborn that way.
She ducks, a flame too close, and he wavers for a moment. Fire’s dangerous; takes a step back, opens his mouth to apologize— oh, she is ruthless today, flinging him back with powerful lashes of her element.
He crashes backward, back meeting a godforsaken tree, a sharp twinge running through his muscles— he’s forty, not sixteen. And Katara’s suddenly in front of him, swirls of water closing around his wrists, rendering him powerless.
She presses closer, fingers jabbing into his chest, pinning him in place. She smiles; ecstatic, victorious, beautiful. “Give up?”
Her voice comes out as a whisper, and suddenly Zuko’s aware of how close they are; the way his heart hammers in his chest, underneath scar she has her hand pressed against, the way her lips are parted, the corners of her mouth twisted in exhilaration, the way a bead of sweat glistens on her neck, and trickles down, further and further—
No.
Katara’s eyes widen, and she staggers backward, restores the distance that should have always existed.
What the fuck was he thinking?
He readies apologies, thinks of all the ways to say he is stupid, and she has a family, and he has a family, and his daughter loves her, and he doesn’t want anything to change—
“I’m going to go inside.”
Katara’s voice cuts through the noise in his head. It’s cold, cut off; it’s worse, so much worse, than having her scream at him, or telling him he no longer deserved her trust.
“Katara, I’m—”
“Don’t,” she cuts him off, a slight tremble in her voice. “Don’t you dare apologize.”
He stares at her helplessly, feels himself dwindle; reduce to nothing. He wonders if he sounds as small as he feels, “I don’t...” Dammit, this isn’t even about him, and this is important: “Izumi likes having you around, the three of you around. And, ever since Nyh passed, I can’t— I don’t want her to lose—”
“Zuko.” She has her hands raised, gesturing him to stop, and an inscrutable expression on her face. She shakes her head, and then, voice horribly flat: “Please, stop.”
“I—”
“We’re not going to stop visiting.” She pauses, wraps her arms around herself. “My kids love you too. I’m not going to do that to them.”
He wonders if it’s tears that he sees glistening in her eyes, but she’s too quick to spin on her heels, and to leave him alone; cold underneath the scorching sun.
.
.
Dinner’s mostly a silent affair, and Zuko wonders if the children pick up on anything.
They’re midway through dessert when Izumi says, an indignant expression on her face, “Dad, you haven’t told us a story in ages.”
Zuko sighs, figures he can use the distraction. “I really haven’t, have I?” He gives his daughter a smile. “Which one would you like to hear, princess?”
Izumi beams, and then ponders for a long time, much to the annoyance of Bumi who makes it known by repeated groans of “Think faster.”
She finally says, eyes gleaming, “Wei and Niao!”
Zuko freezes, recognizes the tale his daughter wants him to recount, something his mother had told him years ago. He doesn’t think he can— he doesn’t think he wants to.
“Uncle Zuko, please,” Kya pipes in.
He swallows, steels his heart. His voice still sounds raspy, “They say the stars Wei and Niao have been in love for ages. Even before the age of Avatars, before man ever walked walked this planet, before the spirits came to visit us.”
The children listen to him in silent wonder, and he catches Katara shifting through the corner of his eyes. He ignores the way his heart clenches, “But despite the love they have for each other, the skies separate them. And only once— just for one single day, the skies part for them to meet.”
Silence overtakes the room. He thinks he hears Kya sniffs, but he keeps his gaze turned down; too afraid that he’ll reveal too much if he looks up.
“I don’t get it,” Bumi’s voice booms. The boy has a frown on his face. “If they really love each other, why can’t they just find a way to be together?”
He flounders, the words somehow too powerful.
But Katara steps in, as always. She gives her son a squeeze on his shoulder, and tells him, very slowly, like she wants him to learn a lesson that she couldn’t, “Because sometimes life can be like that. You can love someone with all your heart, and things may still not work out.”
Zuko feels a lump in his throat, wants to run away, and wash away all the emotions that are lashing at him.
“And that’s how it ends?” Kya really has tears in her eyes.
Katara smiles, and he thinks it’s the saddest he has seen her in years. “No, sweetie, of course not. Just because you don’t end up with someone doesn’t mean that’s the end.”
“So you can still be friends with them?”
Zuko stills, but Katara finally meets his eye, and it’s only fitting, he thinks, that this decision between them is also taken in silence; in the absence of words, and in a void that exists only between the two of them.
“Always, Kya. Always.”
.
.
.
A/N: The story of the stars is heavily inspired by that of Tanabata, a Japanese festival that I stumbled upon while I was looking for Japanese lore about star-crossed lovers (since the Fire Nation is loosely based on imperial Japan).
Thank you for reading!
@zutaraweek
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