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weregreatatcrime · 4 months

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In the Two Daughters AU, what do the Turtles and company do for Christmas and/or New Years, if anything? Happy Holidays, BTW!

Happy Holidays! This got very, very long sjfbskbfkshfjf

The family is awkward, but happy to try and fit Karai and Miwa into their holiday celebrations. The Hamatos all have a small get together for Christmas, exchanging presents they've mostly handmade or scavenged. This year is better because they have April and Casey to help them get stuff directly from stores without stealing

Miwa is absolutely showered in baby gifts of clothes and toys and everything a baby could ever want. Have you ever seen a new parent in Christmas? Everything is baby stuff. Depending on if he's in on the family yet I think Kirby would help out by both getting new stuff and donating a lot of April's old baby stuff if he still has it! You also never get rid of baby stuff, for the sheer fact that everyone gives you way too much and you know someone else will eventually come around for YOU to gift it to. I think it'd be extra sweet if Casey brings his little sister's baby stuff too. His dad was just gonna toss it all out or give it to Goodwill anyways, may as well

It's for all intents and purposes Miwa’s first Christmas at home. Splinter doesn't want to put her down. For once, Karai doesn't try to wheedle him into letting her hold her familiar more often. Splinter is... very emotional. Karai is a little allergic to all the feelings and spends more time than probably necessary hiding in the ceiling

Thing is, it's also KARAI’S first Christmas with the Hamatos. They try to be careful and ask if changelings celebrate it. Karai laughs in their faces and then disappears for a few hours. They do celebrate it, when they have the time, when they have the energy. At least the changelings who actually have some fondness for humanity do. Karai hasn't ever celebrated it as a changeling. She's celebrated it as Oroku Karai, clan heir and doted on only daughter, with presents of nice expensive shiny things and tools and weapons. She's not sure how to feel about it all now that she'll no longer receive a room full of presents, 90% of which will be useless or shallow things she didn't even care for.

....it's nicer, actually, to have Mikey gifting her all kinds of weird bits and bobs he's picked up from junkyards that he thinks she might like to eat. The look on Donnie's face when she bites into an old iPod like a candy bar is hilarious. Mikey also gifts her a paper under her door that says he'll save his kitchen scraps for her whenever she wants and he won't say anything to the others, so she doesn't have to dig in the garbage when she wants them, just let him know and he'll tuck them away just for her. Maybe it's the least generous gift, but to Karai it's one of the most meaningful because she's spent centuries starving. Mikey, without even being told, knows and has taken it as a personal affront.

Donnie has a new hip brace for her, tougher and more flexible. He also gives her so many little toys and dangerous things that he wouldn't Dare gift his brothers who are a lot more fragile and prone to accidental arson than Karai. At least when she burns things down it's intentional. Karai recognizes the trust and awareness this costs- Donatello is more aware than his brothers how dangerous Karai is, and to put weapons in her hands with a promise to explain what everything does later? It surprises her.

Leo offers her a matching dagger and sword. Forged himself. Karai doesn't know how to react when she sees the crooked edges and odd spikes. His best attempt at a troll inspired set, from what he's seen of her ridiculously varied arsenal. They aren't the toughest of her toys - human metalworking is inherently weaker than troll work - but they're up at the top of her favorites, with the red and white wrappings around the hilts. They become her favorite weapons to use against human enemies. Leo struggled to create something jagged and vicious, a blade that rips flesh as much as slices it cleanly, and that struggle means all the more to it.

Raph’s gift is interesting. She gets a few basic gifts later, some knives and books, but the biggest is when he knocks on her door ridiculously early Christmas morning with a box full of chalk and offers to do her patterns for her. Karai’s been having fun being able to use chalk for actually interesting designs rather than just blending in, but she's not very artistic. She remembers bits and pieces of what culture changelings have. She can't give herself carvings, and she doesn't consider herself old enough to have those age markers anyways, but she directs Raph in the patterns in chalk and feels a little more real. He even has some sort of setting spray to keep the chalk from smearing into cloudy blurs. Karai looks in the mirror and sees a changeling, covered in red markings and important symbols that she would never get to have actually carved on her body. Raph is pleased and covered in chalk smudges by the time they exit her room to the rest of the family puttering about waiting on them. Karai actually stops him, before the door is open, to press her forehead to the top of his head and rumble under her breath. She doesn't need to say anything- him and Mikey both are best with physical language and Raph just shoves his head into her with a satisfied hum.

April and Casey even give her some things, though she's completely thrown off by it. She's pretty sure April doesn't even like her. But April gifts her some clothes and a sewing kit to modify them for her extra arms and tail. Kirby pitches in with a cropped jacket that rests just above her secondary arms and she might not even have to trim it. Casey gifts her eyeliner and nail polish and she would be a little offended but the blood red makes her remember the eyeliner pen she used as her Key and the colors are nice. She's not even sure if the eyeliner will stick on this form.

Splinter doesn't need to give her anything. He's given her everything the past few months, letting her into his family and taking care of her Heart. He's even personally helped her heal bit by bit and exhausting himself on the regular to do so. Karai is shocked when he offers her a beautiful kimono. It's dark and sturdier than she expects. When she sniffs the fabric she can smell that it's made of something tougher than typical. It's a battle kimono, that won't tear and wear away as easily on her stone flesh. It's been a battle trying to explain to the Hamatos why she doesn't wear much clothing if at all - human clothes are usually so thin and her rough surface scrapes them to threads faster than she wants to bother replacing them. But this will last her a while. Furthermore, it smells old. Splinter smiles at her warmly and Karai doesn't ask whose it used to be, just mentally promises to sand herself down before she ever wears it, to smooth her rough stone at least a bit to prolong its life.

There's other clothing he offers her, most of it sturdy and practical to her pleasure. He's modified much of it already to fit her and promises to tailor the rest whenever she'd like. He understands the difficulty of wearing pants with a tail, at least. But the kimono is special. It's a blue so deep it's almost black, with black vines trailing the hems and almost blending into the blue. It looks stunning next to her cream colored stone and red slashes. She wonders if Raphael would mind helping her put those vines on her skin in chalk, when she eventuslly wears it.

Karai didn't expect to be given so much. She'd expected some kindness, by now she understood the Hamatos' generosity was endless, but she didn't expect all THIS. She's quietly befuddled by the time presents have been mostly unwrapped for the whole family. Everyone is happy to exist around her while she sits and crunches on old Tupperware lids that taste like old grease. Mikey even drew on them with markers to look like Christmas cookies.

Karai expected their generosity but she wasn't sure yet if she should reciprocate, until Christmas morning when she's showered with the same love the family is giving to each other. Karai will figure something out for April and Casey later, Kirby as well- ESPECIALLY for the toys and clothes Miwa is giggling amidst. She's got a pair of daggers for Leo. They're one of the nicer pairs she has, plus they're actually sturdy enough to hurt a troll and they're made for strange fingered hands. He's a bit in awe when he holds daggers that fit in his hands

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pierregaslays · 1 year

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thank you for tagging me @hrhgeorgerussell 💘

Rules: Post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

listen. i don’t have much i’m working on for ✨reasons✨ but i do have a few atm that i’m sorta switching between and i’ll just list them in order of the last time i updated them. only one has an actual title lmfao (btw they’re all piarles if u couldn’t guess)

- paper planes

- performance coach!pierre & ferrari!charles au

- model & makeup artist au

- letters to juliet au

- fake dating/friends to lovers (absolutely no plot line whatsoever and the only reason it’s here is bc of two sentences i wrote at 4am)

idk who has actually been tagged but hey if u wanna do it consider yourself tagged by me <3

#pierregaslays pretends that she writes actually #piarles fics

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mojowitchcraft · 1 year

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WIP Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Am I Your Fire? Y2K BSB Valentines

Big Bang Project

Frat Boy Steve

Steddie Ecstacy Night

S&C Chapter 13

8) SCOOPS STEVE

I also have a file called “Fic Ideas” so I’ll share some of the ones I have in there too

Post starcourt battle stobin watch rocky horror

Jeff centric fic

Accidental Husband AU

Kas Eddie

Lifeguard Steve

Sexting

Robin & Nancy working at a paper together - Ronance ensues

Steddie Dads in Portland

I don’t usually tag people in these things cause I have a fear of being annoying (I’m never annoyed at being tagged btw I’m just weird) but if you see this feel free to participate!

#part 8 is the night drives series and I’m so excited that we’re finally getting to scoops Steve who I’ve been wanting to write for MONTHS #night drives series #the valentines fic is late AF #ao3 weird witchcraft #tag game #WIPs #my WIPs #mojowitchcraft wips #stranger things

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mllekurtz · 2 years

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14 and/or 22 for the weird writer asks meme! <3

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back? I do lend my books to people! I do it much more infrequently now that 1) most of my friends are online and 2) I usually buy ebooks instead of physical books. I used to enthusiastically drop books in people's laps because I love to share the things I'm excited about, and yeah, I had a list of all the people I gave my books to when it became hard to keep all the loans straight in my head.

I like to think I have a healthy relationship with physical books. I've never truly venerated the book as an object (yeah, I'm an amateur bookbinder, but appreciation is not the same as worship), and working in publishing put the final nail in the coffin of my being precious about paper and ink. After all, you put all your efforts in the words themselves, and holding the bound object is just the last part of a long process. With all the due exceptions, as long as they're not out of print or ridiculously expensive, books can be replaced. The story is what's important, the reader is what's important; I'd rather never see a beloved book again than keeping a friend to enjoy a story I love.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

(this got long so it's under a cut!)

Story ideas usually live in the hivemind, aka discord chats or servers. Once an idea develops and starts to turn into a proper outline, I create a channel for it in my private discord server where I can chuck ideas on my phone when I wake up at 2 am. Once the fic is done, I move the channel into the graveyard.

This is what the graveyard looks like btw (not all of it):

(If you're wandering what is essek-thoughts, I was too, so I checked: they're notes on a better man than me. idk-shadowgast is the early stages of all this science i don't understand)

I keep using discord even when I start working on the fic properly in Google Docs; all the random thoughts I have when I don't have access to GDocs go there, as well as most of the darlings I kill while editing. (I also download copies of my docs in my hard drive very often, because 1) I was born in the '90s and I don't trust the cloud 2) you never know when you'll need to go back in time and search through an old version of your work.)

I usually break down the fic into scenes and/or chapters, depending on its length; I use various headings to make an organised outline in the sidebar. I've also started using the summary function to write notes to myself (future developments, changes I need to track, the tags that I add as I go, things I need to remember to say in the A/N and so on).

This is what my outline for the emergency contact au looks like right now:

It's not very detailed because the structure is very straightforward and the chapters are short, but I would usually have nesting headlines so I can keep track of scenes I need to go back to, flashbacks and so on. The days of the week are a necessity because I often have to refer to something that happened "three days ago" and I wouldn't remember when that would have been. I also need to remember that offices are usually closed on a Sunday, and so on.

I also often leave comments to myself and/or my betas throughout to highlight the parts that need attention. And this is it, I think? It might sound convoluted but it's actually a very straightforward process that keeps me from messing up and forgetting ideas.

#thanks for the ask ariadne!#ask game #weird asks for writers

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 2 years

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Prompt idea!

What about a soulmate au where if your soulmate has magic you can access some of their magic depending on how powerful they are. Can be merthur or another ship but Merlins magic is so powerful that his soulmate can do most things average sorcerers can do.

Btw I love your stories! I immediately read all of them as soon as I found your blog.

(This is #38 on This List)

Ok so. This could be something very cool. I like you're thinking anon. Also you're very kind and I love you!!

I'm thinking that whatever "skills" you have, your soulmate sort of develops alongside you, though to a far lesser extent. Normally, when someone can do magic, their soulmate can maybe levitate something or produce a few sparks, but because of how ridiculously powerful Merlin is, Arthur is basically at the level of a normal sorcerer in terms of the magic he can do (at least he is later on when Merlin starts coming into his own). Which he obviously has to hide from EVERYONE and also can't use as a reference to find his soulmate because... duh. He's also weirdly good at climbing trees, and he has the odd random piece of knowledge about things like farming and agriculture in his head before he's taught it in his tutoring.

When Hunith finally managed to get hold of enough paper and ink to be able to teach Merlin to read and write, when he's maybe ten-ish, they discover that... he can already do it. He's not perfect, not by a longshot, but it's as if he's been learning for a couple years already. Arthur, at this point, is obviously being forced to read really complicated shit and has handwriting lessons and stuff. He also discover, years later, when he's in Camelot, that he's really good with a sword?? Like almost at knight level?? What??

Merlin definitely gets off better in this, because Arthur was taught so much random shit as a Noble child. Merlin knows the name of the stars (though not which direction they point in), Merlin can read sheet music (though can't play by sight), Merlin knows how to lay a full posh banquet table (though doesn't know which piece of cutlery is actually used for what). Arthur... might get his head chopped off by his father, and can climb trees. Great. Obviously they're stupid as hell so it takes them forever to realise.

The more I think about this, the more I love it!! Thank you anon!!

#bbc merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #merthur soulmate au #arthur with magic #merlin #send requests #send asks #asks #requests #merlin and arthur are soulmates #arthur has magic

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teyvattherapist · 2 years

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hi dad lane! :D this is for the 300 followers event (congrats on 300 btw!! :D) can I get a diluc + "stop moving and let me braid your hair." in just the normal teyvat au? >:D — that one 🌙 anon on koi's blog that finally sends u an ask xoxo, love u btw /p

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

a/n: Hello!! Welcome ily2~ Thank you so much<3 I'm so sorry I drafted this before I went on my hiatus. I hope you're doing okay moon nonnie.

tags: gn!readerxDiluc, Lane's 300, fluff.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Diluc stared at the paperwork in front of him, doing his best to focus his tired vision on the scrawled words before him. It was the same thing day in and day out, manage the Winery’s affairs and business conduct with other distilleries, check in on the tavern, and make sure Mondstadt was safe from threats both outside and within.

He brought a gloved hand up, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. Despite it being like every other day, he couldn’t quite focus like he wanted to. Something was off, but it wasn’t a feeling of dread like it usually was when something was happening. No, rather, he was just tired. A soft sigh escaped the redhead as he gazed up at the clock on the wall.

It was barely afternoon, he had no reason to be so tired. Diluc set his papers down on his desk, leaning back and stretching afterwards. His mind idly wandered to you and he considered getting up to find you. He still had plenty of time to finish what he needed to.. Diluc’s chair slid across the floor as he stood up. Yes, a break was in order.

Diluc adjusted his hair tie as he crossed his office, tightening his ponytail. He pulled open his door, red eyes widening when he almost slammed directly into you. “My flame, are you alright?” He questioned as he grabbed your elbow to steady you. Were you coming to see him? Was that why you were outside his door?

You only laughed, shrugging him off easily. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” You reassured the redhead who merely gave you the look that he usually did that said he was only mildly annoyed. “I was actually stopping by to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? I was thinking of a picnic..” As in, you had already prepared a picnic, you flashed him a nervous smile.

“Very well.”

“I know you’re busy but- wait, really? Oh!” You beamed, Diluc almost never agreed to go out with you while he was typically working. This was something you considered a win, he didn’t even argue. Diluc nodded his head towards the stairs, properly leaving the threshold of his office and shutting the door behind him.

Dawn Winery was always nice for a picnic, especially the little hill beside the statue of Barbatos. The sky was clear, the weather not too cold nor too warm, it was almost perfect really. Diluc’s dark clothing was a strong contrast against the light white and red blanket you had chosen, but you had long since gotten used to his attire choices.

Diluc leaned back on his elbows, looking out towards his vineyard. “This was enjoyable, thank you.” He turned his head to look at you beside him, a faint smile on his face. You tilted your head towards him, returning his endearing smile. He watched in real time as an idea dawned on you and you sat up immediately. “What?”

He went to sit up too but was quickly stopped by your voice; “stop moving and let me braid your hair.” Diluc obliged with your request, relaxing in the position he had already chosen. You carefully undid his ponytail, letting his red long hair loose. “Do you ever brush this?” You teased him as you ran your fingers through his fluffy hair.

The redhead merely rolled his eyes, letting you do as you pleased with his hair. He didn’t have plans to see anybody else but you and his staff today, not that he’d usually care either way. Diluc trusted you not to make him look absolutely ridiculous. He let himself close his eyes, focusing on the gentle feeling of your hands in his hair.

A few minutes passed, or at least he assumed it was a few minutes, before he felt your lips on his forehead. “If you want to sleep on me, maybe choose a better position.” You teased him in a quiet voice as you pulled away. Okay, maybe more than a few minutes. But who was he to complain? Diluc merely readjusted himself, allowing himself this moment’s reprieve.

#Lanes300 #Diluc x Reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #oof this was in the drafts so its old format oop #☾*✲⋆. Let Me Tell A Tale #☾*✲⋆. You Question Fate?#Stargazer; 🌙 anon

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ahtsumu · 3 years

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long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

1K notes · View notes

yoificfinder · 2 years

Note

Okay, so, I'm looking for Viktuuri fics where Yuuri and Viktor get to talking with each other over phones, but don't actually know each other's identity. Do you have any? If so, thank you very much!

(You do great work and deserve lots of love btw <3)

I appreciate the love, anon (and received your other asks following up and saying you don't mean to rush me). Thanks for patiently waiting! Here are the fics I rec that fit your request:

23. M. Looking for a challenge. by (orphan_account) [T, 15K]

“A cute boy with an ass like that says he’s up for a challenge and you send him a math problem?" (Giacometti, 2017).

A (not-so) comprehensive study on the (terrible) mating habits of (beautiful) grad student, Yuuri Katsuki, and (future) Nobel Laureate Viktor Nikiforov D. Sc.

(Or: That one where two physicists fall in love and set off a nuclear reaction. Except not really.)

Accidental Crush by Ashida / @captain-erwinmerica [M, 14K]

4.18pm from: Unknown Number.

Message:

’Had to find a pen and paper and take a decent photo :P here you go.’

There was a photo attached alright, a photo that had Yuuri gasping and blushing for good reasons instead of bad, who would have thought the unknown number was in fact not lying, and in fact, one of the most disgustingly hot people Yuuri had ever seen in his life.

----

Or, a university AU in which Yuuri's phone is plagued with spam text messages and the one time he decides to text back results in the best thing ever.

Helpline Operator by RainyTea [E, 16K]

After a spectacular failure in the restaurant industry, dime-a-dozen chef Yuuri sinks all of his savings into a food cart, Food-Topia Katsuki. However, he’s still having trouble making ends meet. That’s when Phichit suggests that Yuuri take on a side job. “It’ll be easy,” Phichit says. “All you’ve got to do is talk on the phone.”

Meanwhile Victor, CEO and top designer of Portland’s hottest up-and-coming sports shoe company is tired, stressed, and out of inspiration. That’s when his friend and director of marketing Chris gives him the number of a phone sex line. “When you call, ask for Eros,” Chris says.

On Online and Offline Love by @alexwspark [M, 33K]

Gaming/Streaming AU: In which Yuuri and Victor are gamers, head over heels for each other, and hoping to one day come face-to-face. Of course, when two whipped, adorable fluff-balls are involved, shenanigans ensue...

never tasted rubies by ebenroot [T, 17K]

Phichit puts up a poll on the radio website. It reads ‘What Do U Think About Yuuri K. from Hasetsu Nights and the Mysterious Caller Victor?’

Seventy-five percent of listeners said ‘lol they should just f*ck already tbh’.

in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won't stop calling in to chat with him

Sweetsilversub by phlintandsteel [E, 72K]

When Katsuki Yuuri thinks about his life, he feels like maybe it should have the subtitle 'A Study In Contradictions' after it. As he grows and learns more about himself though, he decides he's willing to acknowledge that being a 'Work In Progress' is ok too.

Even if he struggles with uniting the 'online' and 'in real life' portions of himself, at least he's got friends in both places who are willing to stick by him while he works shit out. And maybe more than friends, if the look in Victor's eyes is anything to go by... How did this become his life!!?!?

the "real" viktor nikiforov by @thishasbeencary [T, 60K]

So, fine, maybe Yuuri's a little bored and lonely when he likes a dating profile claiming to be Viktor Nikiforov. And, maybe, he's a little pathetic when he gets excited when the account messages him almost immediately after. And, he's definitely stupid for falling in love with someone pretending to be his idol, but he can't help it. It's not like it's the real Viktor Nikiforov, anyway. He knows someone is catfishing him, but he still falls ridiculously in love.

#yoi #yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #victuuri #yoi fic rec

117 notes · View notes

bluewhale52 · 3 years

Text

Little Black Book: The One You Hate (M)

Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Kim Seokjin, the one you hate.

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED.

Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to lovers, friends with benefit

WC: 3.9k

Warning: swearing, car blowjob, ass slapping, OC loves going down on Seokjin, sex against a window, sex between coworkers, love-hate relationship between OC and Seokjin (more on OC). I guess that’s about it….

A/N: Many, many, many thanks to @rainbhrts94 for beta-ing this piece. I was experiencing a burnout and having a hard time putting all my thoughts together, and her reviews and suggestions totally helped getting this fic into its final form. Thank you!! Also, I’m a total dodo when it comes to Tumblr so with some help from @aroseforyoongi and @moccahobi, I’m reposting this with hope that the link works this time round!

Series Masterlist: Little Black Book

Kim Seokjin was the bane of your existence.

The cocky, arrogant IP attorney from the New York office had everyone on your floor in an uproar for weeks. You had seen him making one of the conference rooms his home away from home, with a hoard of lawyers and secretaries going in and out at his beckoning. You were watching them with jealousy. Sure, you were a mere junior in the firm and therefore the lowest in the food chain (just slightly above the interns), but you really wanted to be part of the action.

Then, somehow, during his last few days in Seoul, you were picked to help him and his team. Your excitement soon turned sour, as you were constantly on coffee and photocopy duties. How could you prove your worth when you were too busy being worked as Kim Seokjin’s personal server? Why couldn’t he ask one of his groupies? There were plenty of secretaries and PAs throwing themselves at him; you bet one of them would be happy to do this… THIS menial job. It was truly beneath your job description, and you started to simply, truly hate the man.

If that was really the case though, how did you end up in his luxury rental car, bending over towards the driver seat, sucking his cock? How did your mouth end up around his shaft, while your saliva dripped down and coated your fingers around his base? Why were your panties getting wetter with every moan and groan that left his lips? Why did you wish he would just spank your ass instead of tugging your hair? Why, when he came, did you gobble up his seed so greedily and lick him clean? Why did you even feel the need to stick your tongue out to him to show him you had swallowed every single drop?

Seokjin exhaled sharply then looked over at you as he tucked himself back in. “You do this with every visiting attorney?” He leered at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Just the one that pisses me off.”

He chuckled. “I should piss you off more then.”

“Are you going to drive me home or what?”

Seokjin started his car. The engine purred, and you pressed your thighs closer together at the soft vibrations that went through the car. “I promised I’d buy you dinner first, didn’t I?”

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I had a meal already, thanks.”

Seokjin sniggered as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to drive you home - “the least I can do after all your hard work this week” he had said- and while your little apartment was at the other end of the city from the five-star hotel he was staying, it was indeed the least he could do for you. So when you had settled in his car and buckled your seatbelt, after he had asked if he could buy you dinner, you- in your frustration, because you hated him and you just wanted to go home (god, was that too much to ask)- muttered under your breath on how you would rather suck his dick than have dinner with him.

You had been taken aback when he broke into a brazen smile, challenging you to eat your own words, and damned if you were going to back down. Deep down, you had wanted to see if this perfect man with the perfect face and the perfect suits tailored around his perfect body (he had legs that went for miles, you hated to admit), also had the perfect dick.

It turned out that he did, and his perfect dick was perfectly hard when you unzipped him. And so, that was how you went down on Kim Seokjin, giving him a near perfect blowjob, in his car, in the basement parking lot of your firm. (Near perfect because honestly, you could have done a lot more had you had more ample space to move.)

You stole a glance at Seokjin as he drove. His side profile was sharp and too good to be true. Flashes of lights only further highlighted his jaw and cheekbones. You looked away, pouting.

“I’m flying back tomorrow evening.” He broke the silence. “You gonna miss me?”

You scoffed. “You wish. I’ll finally be able to do real work rather than making you coffee.”

He had the gall to laugh. “I’ll be back in two months. Don’t worry.”

The rest of the drive was quiet. How did you get into this? How could you possibly be so horny for him? Was it your dislike for him that made you like this? You should have known better than blowing him in his car just now. What if he started shooting his mouth off in the office? Or worse, in your personal promised land, THE New York office?

“Seokjin,” you started, “about what happened just now, I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

“Of course, I’m not Yuna.”

You tilted your head at the name. Yuna was one of the senior partners’ secretary. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? She’s been telling everyone how good I was in bed.”

“You slept with her?” You couldn’t mask your surprise. “I didn’t hear anything about it. I must’ve been so out of loop with the rumor mills. Wait… Is that why you’ve been asking me to do all that shit? So you don’t have to deal with her?”

“Smart girl.” Seokjin made a turn, stopping just outside your apartment complex. He turned off the engine.

“And here I thought you liked my coffee. And how I photocopied your endless documents.” You said dryly. “Thanks for the ride.”

Seokjin stopped you before you exited his car. “Aren’t you going to invite me to your place?”

You chortled. “Why, you need a goodbye fuck?” You spat it out, but internally, you hoped your playing hard to get was not going to backfire.

“Hmm,” Seokjin looked out of the car, eyeing your apartment building. “What kind of bedsheets do you have?”

“What do my bedsheets have to do with anything?”

“500 thread count? Or pure linen?”

You opened the car door and got out. “Bye Seokjin.”

He got out too, walking you to the main entrance. “I’ll buy you some. For next time I’m here. Two months from now.”

You scanned your access card, but he stopped you from opening the door.

“Not gonna kiss me goodnight, sweetheart?”

You turned to him and leaned forward. But instead of kissing him, you stuck your tongue out and licked him, along his jaw, all the way to his ear. You did not miss the shiver that ran through his body when you closed your lips around his earlobe. Smiling smugly, you opened the door, and as you were about to walk into your safe haven triumphantly, Seokjin slapped your ass. You stilled yourself, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction.

“See you in two months, sweetheart.” You heard him chuckle as the door closed behind you.

Kim Seokjin was truly the bane of your existence.

~~~

He returned to Seoul in two months. You were not keeping track on your calendar, no of course not. You just knew because the commotion was back, as it always was when he stepped into the office. He picked you again to assist his team (Yuna gave you an evil eye for that), and at the end of the work day, when you were filing papers and folders, he slipped a small envelope into your hand.

“Open it at your desk.” He said in a low whisper.

You looked at the envelope quizzically before putting it into your pocket. “Is it your credit card? To buy pure linen bed sheets?” You whispered back.

“Sweetheart, I already bought you a few sets from New York.”

You snorted. Later, when you were back at your desk, you took the envelope out and opened it. You found a note with a gold monogram of Seokjin’s initials at the top. You laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Under his insignia, was a series of digits you assumed to be his mobile number. You saved it in your phone.

There was something else in the envelope, however. A piece of key card, with the logo of the five-star hotel on one side, and handwritten 4-digit number on the other. Your eyes widened. Was this an invitation to his hotel room?

You peered out of your cubicle like a meerkat, trying to find where Seokjin was. Then you remembered foolishly you had his number. So you immediately texted him.

– You [18:40] : Seokjin, WTF???

– You [18:40] : also, nice stationery

– You [18:40] : it’s me btw

– Seokjin [18:41] : hurry the fuck up. I’ve been waiting for you in my car

You smiled. The time had finally come, you were going to fuck Kim Seokjin.

~~~

You had to admit, high quality bed sheets felt amazing. It hugged your naked body like soft clouds as Seokjin pounded into you relentlessly. His thrusts had caused your body to move, inch by inch, from one end of the bed to the other. You were not complaining though; the way he rammed himself into you made your breasts bounce back and forth like a pendulum on a string, the feeling was so delicious.

You gripped the edge of the bed as you watched him over you. His usually perfect hair was messy now, his perfect face was void of the usual laser focus expression you normally saw at work and of the arrogant smirk he liked to give you. His broad shoulders and lean torso filled your vision- you had had fun stroking your hands over his pecs, abdomens and biceps. God, you hated how perfectly hot he was.

You whined pathetically when he plunged his cock and pushed it as deep as he could into you. Seokjin dropped to his elbows, and you welcomed the new weight on top of your body. He stilled, letting his hardness rest inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and could not help but clench around his cock. He groaned against your chest at the sensations.

“Do that again, sweetheart,” he nibbled and licked your collarbone, “squeeze my cock again.”

You did as he asked, tightening your walls around him before loosening again, repeating the movements and creating your own erotic Kegel exercise around his cock. You could feel Seokjin’s breath faltering on your neck, and before long, you were careening towards your peak.

“Seokjin,” you gasped, “close.”

He remained still, even at your warning. Choosing to work his lips on your neck and up to your ear instead. Finding a spot behind your ear, he licked and nipped at it, sending shudders all over your body and suddenly pushing you to your release. Seokjin held you down as your body shook, willing himself not to come, but the way your pussy walls massaged his cock, it did him in.

You and Seokjin held each other tight as you both came. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his hips pressed harder against yours as he shot his seeds inside you. Finally groans and moans gave way to heavy breathing, and as your heart rate slowed down, sanity returned.

You opened your eyes. “God, don’t do that EVER again.” You slapped his shoulder. “I’m super ticklish there.”

Seokjin hummed, and nipped at the spot again. You yelped, but in the process you also squeezed his flaccid cock, still sheathed fully in you. “Now I know what to do when you talk too much.” He mumbled.

You tried to wriggle away from his mouth, but the more he teased your spot, the more you moaned, and the more your body became heated again. You were all ready for round two, but your stomach betrayed you, for it growled shamelessly. Seokjin’s eyes widened at the sound, and the two of you burst out laughing.

“OK, I’d better feed you before I fuck you against the window.” He pulled out of you, holding on to the spent condom on his dick. Walking to the bathroom, he gestured to the phone on the bedside table. “Whatever you order, order the same for me.”

And that was how you spent your first night with Kim Seokjin. Fucked out of your brains and eating room service food in his luxurious hotel room.

~~~

You gave Seokjin your Saturday nights whenever he was in town, which was only about three to four times a year.. You hated to admit it, but you enjoyed your time with him. It was obvious he liked your company too, and your arrangement worked out well. You both wanted sex with no strings attached. You enjoyed arguing with each other, although it felt like Seokjin lived solely to rile you up to get a reaction out of you. He said he was training you to hold your poker face better; after all, didn’t you want to be a successful attorney like him?

And that was the situation you found yourself in that evening. Seokjin kept prodding at you until your temper snapped, and you roughly pushed him to the chaise in his room. You quickly worked on his jeans and his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles, only to find his cock already hard and weeping with precum.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Making me angry turns you on so much, huh?” You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, lazily stroking it a few times before squeezing it gently at the base. Seokjin hissed, but his annoying smirk never went away.

“You can’t shut up your opponents by going down on every one of them,” he teased, his hand reached out to touch your hair but you swatted it away with your free hand, “no matter how sexy you are when you’re angry.”

You scowled as your hand continued stroking him. Keeping your eyes on his, you closed your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue lapping up his precum. Seokjin sucked in a breath.

“So what should I do then?” You asked before licking up and down his length. Seokjin threw his head back, enjoying the wetness of your tongue on his hot member.

“Hmmm… “Seokjin moaned. “Learn to control your temper better, sweetheart. You know how our kind is…”

Seokjin took a deep breath. Your tongue was still busy on his cock. It drove you nuts how addicted you were to the taste of him. “… especially to female attorneys..” Seokjin continued.

“Excuse me?!” you sat up straight, but your hand was still around his member, unconsciously squeezing it a little harder than normal.

“Ouch!” Seokjin yelped. “What are you trying to do? Pull my dick off?”

You sniggered, your grip loosened slightly as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me,” he asked, “how did your last case go? You almost lost because the opposing attorney kept throwing jabs at your gender, am I right?”

Your cheeks reddened. “How did you know about that?” you pouted.

“I get regular updates on you, sweetheart, I like to know how my protege is doing.”

You eyed him skeptically. “Wow, I’m so honored.” Your tone was flat, but your hand started pumping his cock faster. You thought back to the moment you nearly lost your temper in court, and you buried the memory deep. You leaned in and started to take Seokjin’s length into your mouth when it suddenly dawned on you.

“Wait,” Seokjin’s cock popped out of your mouth. “Is that why I didn’t get the promotion? I won that case but I didn’t get my promotion because I was too emotional?”

Seokjin groaned, in desire and in frustration. He looked down at you, kneeled between his legs, eyebrows scrunched up, eyes angry, mouth in a pout, and his hardness in the mercy of your hand. He ran a hair through his hair.

“Now that you recognise the problem, will you solve it?”

You nodded.

“So can we please continue?” He asked.

You nodded again before your mouth returned to his cock. You enveloped your lips around the head, sucking it gently and licking it until you heard him moan. You started taking more of him into your mouth, the muskiness of his scent filling your nose. His hands found your head and held it gently, his fingers carding your hair.

You continued to lubricate him with your saliva, relaxing your mouth and your throat to take all of him in. You steadied your breathing as you sucked in your cheeks, and you slowly pulled out all the way to the tip, before filling your mouth again. “That’s good sweetheart, you know just how I like it.”

You stupidly beamed at his praise, and it encouraged you to pick up your pace, sucking him faster and harder. His breathing was getting heavier, and you massaged his balls, eager for him to cum in your mouth. “No, no,” he pulled your head, and you came up gasping for breath. “I want to be in you now.”

You and Seokjin undressed immediately, and Seokjin went to the bathroom to retrieve a condom. He rolled the rubber as you positioned yourself by the window. The window felt cold on your back, but your core was wet and hot. Seokjin lifted you up effortlessly, and your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck.

Seokjin spat into his hand and rubbed his saliva over your cunt. Then the blunt head of his cock was at your entry, and he pushed it in, inch by inch until he was fully inside you. Adjusting his grip, ensuring he got you secured between him and the window, he started to move. Slowly at first, and once your juices were flowing and leaking, he went faster.

You felt sweat developing on your back, making your body slippery against the glass. You dug your fingers into Seokjin’s shoulders, anchoring yourself up as he continued to pound into you. You turned your head to the side, catching the city skyline in the corner of your eye.

“God, Seokjin,” you whined wantonly, “When I get that New York position, will you fuck me like this with the New York skyline in the background?”

Seokjin huffed, his hips not missing a beat. “Sweetheart, you’ll never get the New York position.”

You snapped your head back to look at Seokjin, he was still thrusting mercilessly into you. You pulled his hair. “What do you mean I will NEVER get the New York position?”

Seokjin’s smirk was back. He pulled out slowly then he rammed himself back into you hard, making you mewl. “It means…”

He took his time thrusting into you again.

“… you will…”

Another slow and hard thrust.

“… never get…”

He was hitting the sweet spot inside you.

“… the New York position.”

You cried out at his last thrust. “Because I’m too emotional?” you asked breathlessly.

“Because… “ his mouth was inching closer to the sensitive spot on your ear, “we’re closing that office.”

You gasped, at the news and at Seokjin’s sudden change of pace. He was fucking you fast again, pressing your body harder against the window.

“Wait.. ah, Seokjin… “ you said between pants, “does that mean…”

You could not finish your question because Seokin began nibbling and sucking your ear, sending your body rigid as the pressure on your cunt was waiting to explode.

“Yeah,” Seokjin panted. “I’ll be back in Seoul for good, sweetheart.”

You threw your head back against the window as Seokjin continued pistoning into you, pushing you towards and over your climax. You wailed in pleasure as the heat enveloped you. He did not let up at the slightest, his hips kept thrusting into you ruthlessly even as you began to sob from the oversensitivity.

Seokjin wrapped his arms around you tightly to move you, and you both collapsed on the bed, his cock still secure in you. He rolled to his back, bringing you on top of him. He slapped your ass. “Can you ride me?”

You pushed yourself up with your arms, your hair curtaining Seokjin’s face. You started to move your hips back and forth as you tried to get your breathing back. The sensitivity in your sex slowly turned into pleasure once again, and you quickened your pace. Seokjin moved his hands to your breasts, squeezing the flesh and flicking the nipples as they swung before him.

“Does… does this mean you’re gonna be my boss?” You asked between moans.

“Do you want me to be your boss?” Seokjin tugged your nipples, causing your back to arch.

“You’ll scold me everyday.”

“And I’ll fuck you every Saturday.” He thrusted up to meet your hips. “You like that?”

“Fuck no…” you felt the heat returning back to your core. “I’ll just hate you even more.”

Seokjin slapped your ass. “Just admit it, sweetheart, I’m your favorite among all your other fuck toys.”

You stammered as Seokjin thrusted up again, and he took the opportunity to pull you down onto his chest. Planting his heels on the bed, he held you down as he started thrusting his hips to plunge his cock into you, fast and hard. You closed your eyes tightly and felt tears slipping down your cheeks as you came closer to your climax.

“Come on sweetheart,” Seokjin whispered in your ears, “give me one more. Milk my cock.”

You cried out as your body jolted and shook. Seokjin kept holding you down, chasing his own release too. His thrusting became more messy, and he finally came too, swearing and groaning loudly.

You stayed still on top of Seokjin, your heart beating out of your chest, and so was his. You both lay on the bed, bodies sticky with sweat, waiting for the haze of your orgasms to pass.

“If you become my boss,” you whispered, “I want no special treatment.”

“Of course not, sweetheart. The only special treatment you get is I feed you after sex.”

You chuckled. “Speaking of…”

Seokjin rolled you over and pulled himself out. “Yeah yeah, order whatever you want.”

~~~

Today

Seokjin walks into your room. You barely glance up, used to him barging in whenever he likes.

“So, Yuna told me there’s a tall drink of water waiting for you in the lobby.” He plopped down on the little settee in your office. “So naturally I went to see. And you’d better get there before Yuna devours him.”

You glance at your watch. It’s ten minutes to 7pm. You smile softly, leave it to your boyfriend to arrive early. “He’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”

Seokjin ahs. “So, that’s the man who took away my Saturday night fun.”

You glare at him as you tidy up your desk. “Yeah well, he feeds me AND reads me poetry after sex. So, sorry.”

Seokjin stands up as you ready yourself to leave.

“Besides, now we play Maple Story every Saturday, surely that’s more fun?” You tease him. He chuckles and rubs his chin. He accompanies you walking down the hallway towards the lobby.

Before you arrive at the glass door separating the inner office from the reception area, you turn to Seokjin and ask, “Do you want to meet him?”

Seokjin thinks for a moment. “Does he know about our history?”

“He knows MY history, but I never share any names with him.” you explain. “He only knows you as my asshole boss.”

“Now I am offended. I thought I was a nice boss!”

“Well, I rant about you too much maybe. But he doesn’t mind, because you know what happens when I get riled up.” You wink.

Seokjin laughs. “What a lucky bastard. OK, come on, introduce your asshole boss to your boyfriend.”

Published 01022021

#thebtswritersclub #noonasinnetwork #thetruthuntoldnet #purplearmynet #bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x oc #littleblackbook

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

'Siri Am I Having a Stroke?’ Sofia the First

Soulmate!Daichi x Reader Soulmate!Tendou x Reader

a/n: lmao, yall finna know what kind of soulmate au this

when your soulmate gets hurt, you kinda get hurt too

the music your soulmate listens to or constantly sings is always playing in your head

request: Can I request a daichi, tendou, and aone soulmate au headcanon 🤲🏽😩 they're my faves, I wanted to add some more but there could be a limit? I'll request again next time ^^

a/n: sorry anon but ill only do daichi and tendou bc im not very familiar with aone :( but theres not really a limit so go ahead!!

requests open!!

so anyways

for most of your life, you thought you didnt even have a soulmate

there were no scars, no bruises,

nothing

this other half of yours was completely silent and you really thought that youd die forever

but, you

you were a wild chile and you were the type to go playing outside w your brothers and get a lot of cuts

maybe that was why you thought you didnt have a soulmate bc when your soulmate does get hurt, you wouldnt see it since youd think it was one of your own

now, daichi

he worried for you

new scars and bruises would appear on his arms overnight and he fussed over the fact that you would constantly getting hurt

were you in a toxic environment?

were these intentional?

but he would try and heal them, thinking that it would heal you too bc he didnt want you to be hurt

uwu daichi luv

he would even kiss them better bc his mom told him that kisses help them heal faster

then,

during middle school, daichi found his love for volleyball

he started training and being more active and that caused him a lot of bruises and pain

meanwhile w you,

youve mellowed out a bit

so when you entered middle school,

you were actually ecstatic to find that you had a soulmate bc you would find bruises on your hands and arms

you found out the afternoon of the first day of middle school

daichi was in the gym, practicing during lunch, and he hit a spike that bruised his fingers and he received a really powerful ball

you were sitting in class, completely bored out of your mind so you just doodled on your paper

then you flinched at the sudden pain and saw the formation of the beautiful mix of blue, purple,green, bruise

yall are in different schools btw

you shrieked and stood up, cutting off your teacher and surprising everyone in the room

‘my soulmate!’

they were like, ‘okay and?’

the entire day, you admired the colors, not even minding the hurt bc this was it!!

!!!!

your soulmate was real!!!

but daichi was worried that you were also going through the same pain and soreness from practice

and you were

after the shock and happiness of knowing you in fact do have a soulmate,

youve started getting annoyed

was this what he felt whenever you injured yourself during your younger years?

bc this waas annoying

you were constantly fatigued, tired, sore

even the mere action of getting up in the morning sucked and you actually fell down the stairs due to the soreness of your legs and you dropped your chopsticks due to the hurt in your fingers

youve concluded that your soulmate was either an athlete or in a toxic environment

during the walk to school, you raised your arms and watched a new bruise forming

it was a truly beautiful sight but the stiffness and hurt weighed it down

this was your only form of communication with your soulmate and you were sad bc you wanted to be there for him and help heal his bruises and scars

one of your friends suggested a crazy thought of hurting yourself to write a small message which you instantly turned down bc thats too crazy and you will not do that

as the years went on, you were starting to get more worried each day that you wont be meeting your soulmate soon

for almost 6 years, youve wandered over to every athletic club in your school or nearby schools to find if there was even a person who had the same bruises as you

ngl, some lied just bc they wanted you as their soulmate uwu

one of your classmates in seijoh, iwaizumi hajime, has understood your dilemma since he was one of the ones youve expressed this concern to

youve been classmates for 3 years and youve always been coincidentally sat next to each other so youre close

i really cant resist my mans

‘y/n, i really think your soulmate is a volleyball player’

you rolled your eyes as you continued taking out your bento

‘iwa, ive checked your team, multiple times, and none of them are my soulmate! ive even checked other schools too since my brothers have connections there. but still nothing’

he felt bad for you, truly

he already found his when yall started high school, almost immediately, and you were so jealous

‘but those bruises on your arm can only be from volleyball. the way its placed, its like receiving an intense ball while the fingers might be because he spikes the ball’

you sighed before leaning your chin on your hand

‘okay, great buddha iwa-chan. enlighten me as to why you think so’

his eye twitched at the ridiculous nickname

‘y/n, im a volleyball player. ive been playing since i was like 6 and im the ace. i have those same exact bruises’

‘WHAT! IWA-CHAN ARE YOU MY SOULMATE?!’

‘YOU IDIOT I ALREADY HAVE MINE!’

but you mulled it over for a few days

yea, it would make sense, right?

but it still doesnt add up that youve literally visited every single club around with the help of being iwa’s friend and going to their matches

however,

due to karasuno not having practice matches w seijoh or not advancing far enough to play against them, youve never really interacted with that team

besides, the times they actually played against each other, youve been busy due to having to do interships, part time jobs, and studying since it was your last year of high school

it was during the second interhigh that iwa finally got you to go watch them play

‘come on, y/n. shittykawa misses you and matsun and maki keep demanding your support’

‘iwa, what-’

so you found yourself at the stands, just watching the games until seijoh actually plays

then you saw the team, known as karasuno, enter the gym to start their warm-ups

your heart started beating really fast and you were kinda freaking out bc what was happening

‘siri am i having a stroke?’

daichi was feeling the same thing

he thought it was just the adrenaline of playing a game but in all of his years of play8ing volleyball, he hasnt felt this intense beating of his heart

he even had to lean on suga for support bc it felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest

‘daichi, you okay?’

suga worriedly asked and placed a hand on his forehead to check his temp

daisuga rights yall

he didnt want to worry the team so he nodded, just waving it off

he was captain so he shouldnt worry the others

oikawa and iwa entered the stands and were confused as to why you were looking around with wide eyes like an owl

fukurodani vibes

‘y/n-chan, what’s wrong?’

oikawa asked and you looked at them, surprised and shocked

they were lowkey freaked out bc what was happening

‘oikawa-san, my heart-’

you mumbled and pointed to your chest

his smile wobbled bc you just started at him and it was starting to scare him a bit

since oikawa hasnt found his soulmate yet, he wasnt familiar with the feeling of being in the same vicinity as his other half

but iwa did

and he was smiling

‘you owe me so much, y/n’

‘IWA! I FEEL LIKE IM GOING TO DIE!’

karasuno was going against johzenji and daichi wasnt exactly in his best game

to others, he looked like he was doing great but he wasnt feeling good and the beat of his heart was still very fast

this distraction caused him and tanaka to collide and everything went to hell

the entire time, your arms were crying and you were just sweating from the pain but you were also sweating w the possibility of your soulmate being either in johzenji or karasuno

but that was answered when daichi got hurt and you just collapsed, also falling unconscious

iwa, who returned from getting drinks, ran to your slumped form and oikawa, who was focused on the match and didnt notice, shrieked at your unconscious form

‘y/n? y/n, wake up’

everyone in the stands stared at your unconscious form and they started talking, eventually catching the attention of the karasuno team

suga, who was fussing over daichi, heard that a girl also fell unconscious

omg what if

oikawa was grinning at the sight of your bruised cheek bc you finally found your soulmate so you would shut up about it

iwa carried you to the nurse and you actually woke up as he placed you on the bed, conviently beside the karasuno captain

‘w-what-’

but he only smiled

‘congratulations, y/n’

bih what

congratulations for what

the nurse went over from beside daichi and she giggled at the meeting of soulmates

you sat up, wincing at the pain in your tooth

‘ow’

that caught daichi’s attention and he stared at you and your arms before looking at his

they were the exact same

‘i think,,,, i think we’re soulmates’

that made you quickly look at him and noticed the big bruise on his face that was like copy paste on you

‘oh god!’

you cowered and had your hands over your mouth in surprise

he froze, starting to feel insecure that he wasnt what you wanted

‘is something wrong-’

‘you’re HOT!!’

you shrieked unconsciously and when you finally realized it, you hurriedly pulled the blanket over your form

lmao gurl noooooo

daichi started laughing and he thought you were cute

straightforward

but cute

‘oi, come on. i want to see your pretty face’

yes police officer. this is the man who stole my uwus

you peaked your head out from your blanket cocoon and he smiled softly

‘i’m sawamura daichi, by the way. 3rd year’

‘l-l/n y/n. same y-year’

‘so? you expected me to be this?’

you shook your head

‘i mean, iwa told me you could be a volleyball player. but i didnt expect the universe to like me enough to give me a greek god as my soulmate’

im disowning y/n yall

he turned flustered and looked away to hide his blush

‘youre not too bad yourself, you know. youre actually more beautiful than i thought’

‘sir! dont say that to me i be catching feelings way too fast for that!’

i-i cannot w you

he laughed out loud before wincing, causing you to wince too

‘but are you okay, though? i mean,, it must hurt’

but you shook your head

‘i should be asking you that. does it hurt as much as it looks?’

‘nah, its bearable’

you continued talking about your childhood and you actually clarified that you were just rambunctious when you were younger so you got hurt pretty often

‘i really thought you needed to be saved or something’

you smirked

‘oh? my prince charming? knight-in-shining-armor? knight prince daichi?’

he stared at you, a blush creeping up again

‘are you always this bold?’

you shrugged

‘meh. im friends w oikawa tooru’

‘oh. makes sense’

lmao

you both completely forgot about the fact that his face literally got hurt and his tooth was gone bc you have been talking like two best friends who got separated

but you had to separate at some point too

the beautiful manager entered the clinic and asked if daichi was okay enough

‘yea, im fine. i can go now, i guess’

you nodded sadly

‘okay. bye, daichi’

he furrowed his eyebrows

‘but wait for me later, okay? ill treat you to something after i win this match’

from your bed, you crossed your arm with a smug smile

‘oh? youre confident, captain’

‘of course. ill win bc this victory is for you’

you bashfully smiled and chuckled

‘go hurry and win! i expect that date as soon as possible, captain!’

the deadchi memes are literally scaring the new fans and i feel really bad

bruh hes so cute for what

for his entire life, he had the sofia the first song stuck in his head

it was maybe bc his soulmate was in love w that show or just in love w the song

but either way, he constantly hears it and thinks about it

meanwhile you,

you constantly heard bye bye bye by nsync

of all things, it had to be a boy band

however, you were lucky bc for years it varied on what song would be playing

but for him, it continued to be sofia the first

this drived him to watch the show and he did see the appeal and soon, he started singing it too

omg its such a bop

you were triggered bc the song then switched over to sofia the first and you were like, ‘does he like it too?’

you would be going around the store, holding your mom’s hand, and singing it out loud, hoping to find your soulmate

but he never seemed to hear it

instead, hearing the song in your voice, instead of the show’s

he thought you had such a beautiful voice

then in elementary school, his bullying started and ngl, he was actually hurt by the words other kids said

he still had his cute smile on and acted like it didnt bother by teasing others but he was still sad

did nobody like him?

was he always going to look like a monster?

would you be revolted if you saw him?

then he heard this song in the radio ‘dear insecurity’ and he just couldnt help but keep listening to it

ofc you noticed and you were sad that he was listening to such sad song

he was insecure and you couldnt do anything about it

then you started looking up motivating songs and you started singing the one that you really liked

‘i see your monsters, i see your pain, tell me your problems, i’ll chase them away’

he heard your voice as he was hiding behind the school building and his tears instantly stopped, hearing a different song but he couldnt help but smile

he knew that song was for him

you were out there somewhere and a complete stranger to him but you were the only person who seemed to care

because under that teasing and cheerful personality, he was still human and he was very insecure about himself

but you were always there to encourage him, your voice instantly chasing all the fears away

when he started playing volleyball, he became famous for his efficient blocks and you could hear him singing different songs, all of them just under a minute

you concluded that they were his own songs

sometimes, you laughed bc they were funny songs and catchy so you would memorize it and sing it back to him

this was your only way of communicating back of forth and you were so lucky that you even got to hear your soulmate’s voice

then high school started, meaning your friends started meeting their soulmates one by one until you were the only one who didnt

your school, karasuno, had no one that had the same voice as your soulmate’s

some people even saw you as an extrovert and a people person since you started conversations with strangers easily but this was just your way of finding your other half

with no luck, you started singing your concerns

in no time, ‘thousand miles’ was playing on loop in tendou’s head and he was already feeling your antsy attitude

in retaliation, he starts singing ‘lucky’ by jason mraz and you always turned red, slightly happy that he was practically calling out to you

so even though you suffered through years being alone, you didnt give up on hope and continued your search

now, youd be asking, ‘why cant you or tendou just sing each other’s location?’

yes, young grasshopper, there is an explanation to that

you and tendou collectively agreed to let fate do its work and just wait for the time it happens bc if its meant to be, its meant to be

besides, tendou likes to tease you and he wants to make you wait for him so that the moment you do meet, it would become more special

in your last year of high school, you ended up helping kiyoko in being manager and you were so proud of these boys for making it to the finals

you were excitedly waving an orange flag in support of your team and you screamed with the others as they entered the court

you and yacchi ended up helping tanaka’s sister, saeko, and was setting up the plan for their cheers so you werent exactly focused on your soulmate

but tendou did keep hearing a fight song in your head

then they walked in

shiratorizawa made their presence known and you turned to look at them but locked eyes at the unique looking player

his red hair glinted against the bright lights of the gym and his smirk curled in such an attractive way that you were leaning forward to get a closer look

tendou noticed a stare at him and he saw your surprised yet flustered look

that eye contact made everything fall deaf in your ears and you just heard silence

no song, no cheer, just absolute silence

but you and tendou are practically the same so you thought for the worse that your soulmate has died bc of the silence

dread filled your stomach and you started singing sofia the first in instinct

your mouth moved with the words and you shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down

his jaw dropped, hearing the familiar voice and song that correlated with your mouth’s movements

‘there you are, little birdie’

semi turned to tendou and saw him with a smile hes never seen before

it was so soft and genuine that he got a little scared

the entire game, you were all depressed bc it continued to be silent in your head

tendou was just teasing you a little bit and he didnt want to think or sing a song bc he wanted it to be a special cliche reunion after he crushes your team

but his famous song ruined it

it blared in your head and it got 2x bass boosted when he sang it out loud, completely disregarding the fact that everyone was listening

‘you!’

you shrieked and pointed to him

he was your soulmate

and he was alive

not dead

everyone, including all players, looked at confusion between you and him but he just waved at you

‘ill talk to you later, little birdie!’

great, he embarrassed you in front of everyone

but you didnt care bc omg he was your soulmate!!

‘omg universe and fate, you actually like me to give me such a handsome soulmate!’

now, youre actually cheering on both teams

one was your home school the other was your soulmate

however,

there could only be one winner

and that winner was karasuno

you noticed the defeated looks of your soulmate and his teammates and you almost bursted into tears

you quickly maneuvered yourself through the people and found the familiar spiky hair standing at the doorway, looking at the gym with a forlorn expression

the others noticed you there, especially ushijima who gave you a nod and a small smile

‘i trust you’ll take care of him’

you nodded shakily, raising a hand in salute

‘y-yes!’

you approached him and his teary eyes almost made you bolt into his arms but you calmed yourself

instead, you didnt say anything

but you did sing

‘come stop your crying, it will be alright. just take my hand, and hold it tight. i will protect you, from all around you. i will be here, dont you cry.’

tendou looked to his side and saw you there, not looking at him but also looking at the same direction he was previously

‘my name is tendou satori’

despite already hearing his voice, you still turned red and you looked at him, warmth and love present in your eyes

‘and i’m l/n y/n’

‘you have a beautiful voice’

‘and you are beautiful’

that ending for shiratorizawa physically and emotionally and mentally broke me

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blush-and-books · 3 years

Note

high school au, luke pining for julie, friendship on the cusp of something more?, dahlias

ahh got carried away with this one too would you look at that. this is another combo drabble -- @ the anon who sent the request “high school au, fluff, confession, the chain on luke’s jeans.” this one doesn’t have a precise confession, but... I think you’ll still enjoy it. both of you, hopefully!! thank you guys so much for the amazing requests.

Luke would buy Julie flowers for a wide variety of reasons.

Their friends thought it was almost ridiculous how often Luke would show up at school or band practice or even Julie’s house with a bouquet of dahlias with some reason behind it that wasn’t the fact that he was in love with her and giving her flowers was his romantic love language.

(Yes, we all know his primary love language is touch, but he will hug a stranger he met on the street, so it carries significantly less weight.)

He knows that dahlias are her favorite flower, and he knows how important it is that there are always dahlias in the house to keep the spirit of her mom around in a symbolic way. Wherever there are dahlias, there is Rose -- and Luke understood that almost better than any of their friends.

Which is why he would come up with excuses to give Julie flowers all of the time.

The night of a show? Flowers. Her birthday? Flowers. A good grade on a test, she’s having a bad week, or just him noticing that the current bouquet is dying? Flowers.

You get the picture.

On the anniversary of her mom’s passing, the dark date falls on a school day. Julie doesn’t show, which is expected from their friend group -- and when she ignores text messages, they all assume she’s taking the day to herself.

In hopes of making her smile, Luke drops by the store on the way back from school and picks up a bouquet to bring by the Molina household before heading home.

(Or sticking around to hang out with Julie. He would painfully prefer the second option, but also is well aware that this is a day that she needs to be alone.)

Ray Molina wears a grim smile when he sees Luke on the other side of the threshold.

“You’re sweet, mijo. I would let you go say hi, but she woke up sick, and she could barely stand. We were going to go visit her mom today, but we want to make sure she’s there so we are postponing it for a few days. She’s pretty upset.”

Hearing that she’s sick, and likely very depressed, only makes Luke more tempted to respectfully push past her father and run up to her room to comfort her.

“Oh,” he says instead, shoulders slumping. He holds out the bouquet of dahlias. “Okay, well, can you give these to her for me? I’m sure she’s been having a rough day, and-”

A handful of distinct thumps cut him off, and both him and Ray turn to look at the source of the sound: The staircase, where Julie is stumbling step by step, wrapped up in a blanket.

“Julie!”

Without hesitation, Luke crosses the threshold and darts into the house to check on Julie, alongside Ray. She’s hardly standing, and her eyes are almost fully shut as she clutches the blanket and murmurs to herself in Spanish.

“Papa, estoy lista,” she hums into the air as they grip her arms and try to get her to sit down. “¿Por que Luke está aqui? No quiero le verme así este.”

Luckily, Luke’s known her long enough to be able to make out what she’s saying, and finds himself running his hand over her forehead -- God, she’s burning up -- and over her hair.

“Traje unas flores para ti. Sentarte, por favor, y no preocuparte por tu apariencia. Eres siempre hermosa.”

His Spanish is definitely average, but he knows enough to talk her down to the floor and get her resting against him as Ray looks between them with wide eyes. Luke feels himself blushing and his skin is so warm that he wonders if it could pass for a fever of his own. While her dad clearly wants to have a conversation later that Luke had been dreading -- even though they were literally friends -- there is more focus on getting Julie back up to her room.

“I’ll carry her back up,” Ray decides, grunting as he stands. He leans back down to tap on his daughter’s shoulders and coax her off of Luke, but she only presses farther into the boy; clutching onto his arm for dear life. Both Luke and Ray know that this means.

“I’ll get her upstairs.” Ray nods at Luke, staring down at his daughter in the guitarist’s arms, wondering how the two of them happened right before his eyes and how Luke could never conceive how Julie adores him.

“Gracias, mijo.”

Julie is already close to his side, so all it takes is a strategic shift for him to be able to slip his right arm under her legs and tighten his arm around her back. “Okay, mi mariposita enferma, let’s get you back to bed.”

“Quiero ver a mi mamá,” she mumbles lucidly into his neck. Luke feels his heart throb under his ribs, because he knows how hard this is for her, and he just wants to make everything better for her even though no one has that kind of power.

(Except for Julie herself. She can always make everything better for him.)

“Yo se,” he whispers back, almost at the top of the stairs. “Te traería si yo pudiera te traer.”

She doesn’t say any more, but she presses herself even closer and he worries that she may be on the verge of tears. Refusing to look down at her for fear his heart will shatter, he gently slips through her bedroom door and lays her on the mattress; pulling the covers back over her in an instant because she started shivering the second he put her down.

She murmurs “quiero mi mama” a handful of times, and Ray brings up a cup of steaming tea, and Luke finds himself sitting on the edge of her bed trying to get her to drink some of it.

Eventually, she gives in, grumbling more Spanish that was so quick and quiet and run together that Luke couldn’t even attempt to decipher it.

“You should probably go home, mijo,” Ray says after a few moments. “Go take a shower and pop some Vitamin C. I didn’t mean to put you at risk.”

“No, Sir, it’s okay. I needed to make sure Julie was alright.” Gazing down at the half-asleep girl who is curled in bed with a mountain of blankets and a teddy bear pressed into her chest, Luke remembers the bouquet downstairs. “Do you mind if I put the flowers in a vase before I go?”

Who would Ray be to deny him that?

With a head nod towards the door, he gives the teenager a small grin. “Go for it, mijo. You know where the vases are by now.”

He does. And he makes quick work of a nice light pink one, tucking the bundle inside after filling it with water. After scribbling down a note on a nearby piece of paper, he is skipping every other step as he rushes up the stairs. He finds Ray hovering by the doorway, keeping watch over Julie.

The vase is positioned on her nightstand, with the note tucked under the base. Luke tries to stay as quiet as possible, because he doesn’t know if she’s asleep or awake when-

There’s an insistent pull against the chain on his jeans.

Julie has reached out from under the covers and hooked two fingers around it to keep him close. Without opening her eyes, a small smile forms on her face: “Gracias para las flores.” And if Luke listens even closer: “Te amo.”

Julie’s dad is six feet away, but Luke forgets all about that when he unlatches her hand from the chain and presses her palm against his lips.

“Cualquier cosa para ti, mariposa.” Quietly, murmured against her palm like a promise, “te amo.”

Her grin impossibly widens, which is the most emotion she’s shown the whole time he’s been there. It makes his chest ache a little that he managed to make her smile, even a little bit, even in this state.

He would do just about anything to keep her smiling.

The next morning is a Saturday, so he sleeps in, and plans to go over to see Julie again. He doesn’t have to wonder long if she’s still in the same state, because he wakes up to a text from her on his phone: Dad says you were killing the Spanish game yesterday. Bravo.

And BTW, thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.

And once again, Julie is the one making him smile.

TRANSLATIONS (not my four years of Spanish finally popping in):

- Papa, estoy lista. ¿Por que Luke está aqui? No quiero le verme así este = Dad, I’m ready... Why is Luke here? I don’t want him to see me like this.

- Traje unas flores para ti. Sentarte, por favor, y no preocuparte por tu apariencia. Eres siempre hermosa. = I brought flowers for you, Sit down, please, and don’t worry about your appearance. You’re always beautiful.

- mi mariposita enferma = my little sick butterfly

- quiero ver a mi mama = i want to see my mom

- yo se, te traería si yo pudiera te traer = I know, I would bring you if I could bring you

- gracias para las flores, te amo = thank you for the flowers, I love you.

- cualquier cosa para ti, mariposa. te amo = anything for you, butterfly. i love you.

#juke #jatp #juke fanfic #jatp fanfic

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