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dira333 · 8 months

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Senpai - Komori x reader

for the Haikyuu Request Game - requested by @alienaiver

He heard the story, like everyone else.

That hotshot from Karasuno with the buzz head had managed to score the legendary beauty that was Karasuno’s third-year manager.

Relationships between players and managers weren’t uncommon but as far as Komori knew, the girls were usually the ones that were younger.

But there he was, Tanaka Ryunosuke, the proof that exceptions confirm the rule.

If only Komori could have been as lucky, he thought, as you graduated and left the school.

He’s a first year and training camp is a terrible mix of consoling his cousin and trying not to fall behind.

He needs to prove his place on the court just as much as Kiyoomi but he needs to prove his place on the team a little bit more.

“Here, your water.” You smile as you hand out the bottles, golden sunlight casting a halo around you as you walk through the throng of people catching their breath.

He’s not been in love before, has merely fancied one girl over the other in Junior High.

But this, the rapid beating of his heart, the longing pull that starts behind his navel and steers him towards you, always towards you, this must be love.

“My girlfriend-” It’s not polite but Komori has learned to tone out Washio every time he starts a sentence like that.

“So, what do you think?” Washio’s grinning at him and Suna‘s smirking next to him like he knows exactly what’s going on but choosing to enjoy the show instead of helping.

“About what?”

“What I just said.”

“I wasn’t li-” Komori interrupts himself by turning his head, still way too attuned to your sight. But could it really be?”

“Earth to Komori, are you listening?”

“You guys go ahead.” He grins and fears that it must look a little bit hysterical, “I just realized I urgently need a coffee before we watch that movie.”

“You’re right.” Suna’s voice drawls lazily as he eyes Komori, ever the instigator, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. I’ll get you one. I know what you drink anyway. Go on, go ahead.”

“Is he okay?” You ask when Sakusa hides in the corner yet again.

The worry is visible on your face, painting shadows where none have been before.

He’s seen you cheerful, has seen you determined, but never worried like this. It creates a strange feeling in his chest, pulling him apart in two very distinct directions.

He wants to see more of this, wants to explore all there is to explore, see all the colors of emotion you can be painted in.

And he wants you to be never worried at all. Wants the shadows to disappear until you’re bathed in nothing but light.

Your hand is warm on his elbow as the two of you look over at Kiyoomi.

His voice is thick as he speaks but for a different reason than you must assume.

“He’s not good with crowds.”

“What can we do to help?”

That’s how he knows that he’s lost to this feeling.

Because in all your struggles, helping others has always come first.

By the time he makes it into the coffee shop he’d seen you walk in, he fears you might have already left again.

But there you are, waiting for your drink, still as beautiful as you’d been years ago.

“Senpai?”

Oh god, he shouldn’t have called out to you like this, your name would have been way better, right?

But you look up and he cantell you recogniz him, pleasant surprise washing over your face.

“Komori-kun!” You smile. “What a surprise!”

“I just saw you walk past and had to say hi.” He tells you, feeling surprisingly shy all over again. You’ve always had that effect on him.

“What are you doing? Can I buy you a coffee?”

You laugh, taking your cup from the barista just as he utters the words.

“That’s very sweet of you. I was just out shopping but I have some time, we could sit down and chat a bit if you want?”

He nods eagerly, following you to a table.

“What have you been up to, Senpai?” He asks, too happy about the fact you’re willing to spend your free time with him to care about anything at all.

You’re giggling at the back of the bus, heads stuck together over a movie playing on his phone. Kiyoomi is sleeping next to them, his curled-up body the reason you’d come back in the first place.

Talking to you has always been easy, the only Senpai he’s allowed to call by first name.

He wonders if you know how he feels about you. If it’s as visible on his face as it is on the inside.

Second-year just started and he’s already dreading the end of it, having to go through another year without you by their side. By his side.

He knows so much about you now, has learned so much in one year of knowing you yet feels like he doesn’t know enough.

He knows why you decided to become a manager instead of a member of the Girls Volleyball Club but he doesn’t know how you feel when you watch them instead of playing yourself.

He knows you’re struggling with a chronic illness you’re still not fully grasping the extent of but he doesn’t know how you feel about it on your good days, on your bad days, on the days that fall in the middle of it all.

He knows that you love their team but he doesn’t know how you feel about him, just that he’s younger than you, will always be younger than you and all girls in his class are looking at the older guys instead, never the other way around.

“Oh no, I should get going.” You look at your watch with a frown on your face. “I totally lost track of the time.”

“Oh, we should, I mean, we could…” Komori’s stumbling over his words now, “I’d like to do that again. If you want, I mean.”

You smile politely. “It was very nice, but I don’t go out for coffee often.”

Komori’s thinking of Tanaka, of the rare exceptions proving the rule, and he takes his heart into his mouth.

“What about a date?”

“Huh?” You look surprised, but not in a negative way, and he soldiers on.

“I’ve been interested in you ever since you were a manager for us but I was too shy to confess to you back then. But we’re older now and we’re both single and I’d like to take you out on a date. Only if you’re comfortable with it, though. I don’t want to pressure you, Senpai.”

Your face had been open and curious up until his last word, your brows furrowing at the formal term. Komori knows when he’s fucking up and this seems to be the moment for him.

“Or you can take your time and think about it first,” he tries to save what he can. “I can give you my number.”

There’s a moment of stillness between the two of you, as if even the world is holding its breath to wait for your answer.

“Yes, that would be okay.”

His hand’s shaking as he scribbles down his number, his heart in his throat.

He’d never thought he’d get the chance to confess to you, not after you graduated.

But as you leave he can’t help the thought that this isn’t going to work out.

He’s just not Tanaka.

He’s not the exception.

It’s custom to hand your second button to the person you like the most on the day of your graduation.

But by the time he graduates you’re no longer a student at their school.

He plucks the button from his jacket the minute he steps out of the house, pushing it into his bag until it’s somewhere hidden between his books. He hopes that it will be out of sight and out of mind but he cannot stop thinking about it.

Not when Kiyoomi throws him a knowing look.

Not when seemingly everyone passing them wonders aloud who had gotten his second button first.

And it’s not that no one asks for the button.

It’s the fact that he’s learned what he wants and even if there might be another person out there for him, someone like you but not like you, they’re not at school with him today.

One day, two days, three days pass without a word from you.

Komori should have known.

“You seem down, man.” Washio blocks the door of the changing room, worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, you were so happy after you ditched us at the movies, what happened?” Suna’s trying to act as cool as ever but the fact that he’s staying behind with Washio tells Komori that his teammate is worried.

“‘s nothing guys.” He tries to deflect but Washio’s not stepping aside.

“Spill.”

And maybe it’s the fact that these boys have not been on a team with him in High school, have never met you before or known his awkward self trying to hide his crush, but as soon as the first words fall from his lips he can’t stop talking, pouring it all out.

“Damn.” Washio huffs out when he ends while Suna’s on his phone again, chewing on his lip as he types.

“That’s her?” He turns his phone to your instagram profile. It’s a picture of you smiling at the beach, volleyball tucked under your arm.

“Yeah.” Komori mumbles, worried for whatever Suna might say next. But he just pockets his phone and claps one hand on his shoulder, pressing the firm muscle as if to tell him, without words, that he knows exactly what he’s feeling right now.

At least he’s not going through this alone.

-.-.-.-

“My name is Komori Motoya. I played Libero at the Dōshō Junior High. I look forward to playing with you. Please take care of me.” He bows with the other boys but none of them stick out to you like he does.

It’s not that he’s got talent. Because Sakusa does too.

It’s not that he’s tall. Because Sakusa is taller.

It’s not even the fact that he’s cute. Because Tsukasa might be cuter.

You can’t tell what it is, but you can point out when it shows.

In the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his mouth curls when he thinks.

In the way he manages to make everyone open up - even you - and never seems to get tired of listening to his cousin's rants.

You know he has a great future ahead and you wish him the best of luck, hoping against all common sense that your future might intertwine.

Sufferers of chronic illnesses and future sports stars rarely have many things in common.

At least you’ve had High School.

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

You can’t take it anymore, phone pressed against your ear as you wait for the call to be picked up.

You don’t wait for your best friend to properly greet you before the words spill from your lips like the surge of waves.

“Do you remember Komori?”

“Komori?”

“Komori Motoya? Libero? Second Year? Do you remember him?”

“Please, I’d never forget that tall bean pole of sweetness. You had such a crush on him, it was insane. What made you think of him?”

Your chewing on your nails now, a trait you thought you’d gotten over.

“I met him today. We-we had a coffee together.”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“CUTE?” You huff and apologize for your outbreak instantly, pacing your room now in another futile attempt to calm yourself down.

“He confessed to me. I don’t know what to do!”

“What do you mean? You say yes, of course.”

“But- What about never dating younger guys?”

“Please. you’re both grown ups now, that’s different. But tell me all the details first, I have to live through you, remember?”

“Here, take my jacket.” Komori’s jersey jacket envelopes you like a blanket, still warm from his own body heat. It smells like him too, a little bit sweet and a little bit citrusy.

You try not to dip your nose into it and fail but he’s not noticing it, eyes ahead as you walk, his hand a steadying presence on your back.

“I can gather the things myself.” You remind him. “Surely you need the rest after training.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles down at you and your steps falter the slightest bit, your heart betraying you by jumping at the familiar sight. “You would have to walk multiple times and with me we can get this done in one.”

And you think that’s it. That he’s just helpful like he always is. But he always, always cuts into your resolve with his words and his smile. Always, always makes you think that maybe, just maybe, you should give in.

“Besides. I like spending time with you.”

His hand brushes yours as you walk and you wonder what would happen if you just took it, felt the warmth of his pulse under your fingers, allowed yourself to be loved by him.

But your future is still dangling in front of you with its fangs revealed. The future is scary and unsure of many things but tests and doctors telling you all the things you won’t be able to do.

Love is often a fickle thing.

You’d rather look back knowing you could have had him than look back and know that you lost him.

You give yourself 24 hours to think this over before you text him.

At 23 hours and thirty minutes you decide that enough is enough and send him the text you’d spent thirty minutes revising with your friend yesterday.

There’s no answer.

No read sign, no dancing dots.

You tell yourself that he’s probably still training and force yourself to put your phone away.

Two days pass until your phone vibrates with a message you’d almost given up on.

But as you open the text, you freeze in your spot.

“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number. My name’s not Komori.”

He’d given you a wrong number.

But he’d sounded so certain, so honest…

“Never have I ever broken a bone.” He teases, eyes sparkling as he watches you take a sip of your soda.

The rest of the team is sprinkled across the restaurant, Sakusa just a few seats over talking with your first-year manager about the importance of sanitizing the volleyballs properly.

She’s clearly infatuated with him and he’s clearly oblivious to it.

“Never have I ever broken my word.” You test him and his mouth curls as he thinks before shaking his head.

You shouldn’t look too closely at his lips, shouldn’t think too much about his eyes, but the end of the school year is nearing, graduation looming over you and the sight of his face is the only thing keeping you sane some days.

Two days.

Two days you spend doubting yourself, your perception of him.

On Monday you give in to the quiet voice mumbling in the back of your brain, reminding you of hours spent in the gym with him, laughing at his jokes, marveling at how easy comforting others comes to him.

He’s a good guy, always has been.

You think of his shy smile as you type the numbers you’d googled earlier, think of him blushing as you listen to the ringing on the other side.

“EJP Raijin management, Nishida Sadao speaking, how can I help you?”

“Hello Nishida-san, I am calling today with an unusual request but I hope you can help me…”

You cry on your graduation day.

Most people cry on their graduation day.

Some of them shed happy tears, and some of them get their heart broken.

You wonder if you’re the first to break your own heart.

When will the time come when you can trust your decisions?

When will the time come when you can allow yourself to live?

You tell yourself that you will find someone else. Someone like him but not like him.

You’re still wearing your office attire, well aware of how out of place you’re looking as the doors open and one athlete after the other leaves the gym, throwing you curious glances.

Every time you hear the creaking sound of the door opening, you stand up a little straighter, fight the nervous fidgeting of your hands and the urge to chew on your nails again.

This time, a dark-haired man steps out, golden eyes landing on you just like with everyone else before. But while everyone else had looked away again, trying to seem polite, his eyes widened in surprise and he let out something that sounded like a string of curse words before he slipped back inside.

A second later, the door opens again, this time to Komori who’s looking at someone behind him.

“Suna, what are you doing? What do you me-” He stops when he sees you, blood rushing to his face in a blush so vivid you’ve never seen before.

“Hi.” You speak first when he seems unable to open his mouth.

“I tried texting you.” You soldier on this time, tongue dry in your mouth, heart hammering in your chest. “But I got the wrong number. At first, I thought it might have been on purpose…”

“It wasn’t.” He bursts out, blushing even more as he stammers. “I must have… I didn’t… I meant.”

You lift the bag in your arms, a thermos peaking out of the top. “Do you want to go for coffee?” You ask, well aware that it’s well past 6 p.m.

But his eyes glitter as he steps closer, just like they did in High School when you handed him his water bottle.

“Are you sure?” He asks and you know exactly how he feels.

You nod, a smile pulling at your lips.

“After all, you still owe me your second button.”

Love comes to those who grasp it.

Love comes to those who are patient, trusting that when it appears once it will appear twice.

Love comes to those who know that right person wrong time is not the end of it all.

After all, time isn’t linear.

It overlaps like the petals of a rose.

Liberos are usually the shortest player on the team. Komori isn’t.

Managers usually fall in love with the older players. You didn’t.

How lucky to be the exception to confirm the rule.

But, as Suna thinks to himself, watching the two of you leave that night, there might not be a rule to this at all.

And if there is no rhyme and rule to this game, he might still have a chance.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles #komori Motoya #Komori x reader #washio tatsuki #suna rintarou #ejp raijin #this prompt originated from a idea I had for Tsuki #Happy to finally write it for someone #had to drizzle in some suna suspense at the end

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

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Catnap I

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: I have been teasing @geralts-yenn with the promise of (barista) Mikey and kittens, so there you have it!

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: It's your first date with the very cute guy from the coffeeshop, and he's invited you to his place... Questionable...

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Fluff. Swearing. A whole load of cats. Mike being adorable and also a fucking idiot, as per usual.

@deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

Mike invited you over to his house for your first date. Infuriating. But if you’re so insulted to the core about it, why are you standing at his door right now?

“You must be Mikey’s date,” a friendly looking man says after he opens the door. Mike’s father. It’s uncanny. His mother greets you as you step into the kitchen. You’d already suspected that Mike still lived with his parents when you saw that the address he gave you was not on campus, but you’d figured they would be out of town or something…

“Mike is upstairs. We’re about to head out, so you’ll have the house to yourselves. We found four orphaned neonatal kittens last weekend that need to be fed every few hours, that’s why Mike can’t leave. It’s the first door on your left, the door is probably open," his mother says. Mike’s parents leave almost immediately as you make your way up the stairs.

“Mike?” you say carefully after knocking on the door – which isn’t exactly open, but slightly ajar – doesn’t yield an answer. No reply. There’s no sound coming from within the room, either. You carefully push the door open. It’s Mike’s room, alright. Everything is cars and half naked ladies, and then some more than half naked ladies. One or two completely naked ladies, but the classy kind – at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Unnecessarily big TV in the corner... And on the queen size bed; Mike. Asleep, of course. There are six cats sprawled out over him and his bed.

“Mike,” you say loudly. His eyes open, but he doesn’t move. “You are making the worst impression on a first date right now.”

“Hey! Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“I can see that, doofus. Can I at least get a hug or something?” You’re not completely sure where you find the confidence to ask that question, but it’s out now. No use worrying about it anymore.

“I can’t get up,” he says as if that’s even remotely enough information.

“Enlighten me,” you sneer at him.

“I’m covered in cats,” Mike answers plainly. What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

“So move them?”

“That’s not how that works, Sweetcheeks,” he grins. That’s it! You’re leaving. “Wait, no! Don’t go! Come sit! You can move Nova. She’ll happily lay back down wherever you put her.” He points at a fluffy-looking, mostly white cat that’s chilling next to him. She starts purring as soon as you pick her up. Mike gestures at you to sit down, and Nova doesn’t seem prepared to leave you at all, so you put her on your lap.

“She’s cute,” you chuckle as you pet her. She’s incredibly soft, and has massive blue eyes and a cute squishy face.

“They all are,” Mike says. There’s a black cat on his chest that’s barely visible against the t-shirt he’s wearing, and a grey one on his stomach. “Grey one is Momo, black one is Nyx. The guy on my lap is Tiger, the one on my feet is Larry. He was already called that when we adopted him. And this orange menace next to my head is Syverson. We call him Big Sy because he’s chunky as fuck.”

“That’s a weird name for a cat,” you say. Mike laughs.

“Two friends of mine have one, too. All named Syverson. We found a litter of these red babies and their mom when a friend of ours was about to head out on his first deployment, and we all kept one and named it after him. As if that would make him come home safe, y’know?” Mike tells you.

“Did he?” you ask carefully.

“Oh, yeah he did! No worries! The big joke is that the cats all fucking hate him, but they absolutely refuse to leave him alone. They’ll climb in his lap as soon as he sits down, but if he so much as thinks about touching them or moving them, they bite. We think it’s hilarious, Sy doesn’t care for it as much.” You have a hard time keeping your face in check, especially when Mike grabs his phone from his pocket – startling Larry, who rushes out of the room – and shows you some pictures.

“Evan, Will, Sy,” he points out before swiping to the next picture. “This is what Sy looks like when one of the Sy’s bites him, though.” It’s not necessary – or desirable – to describe that picture, but it looks like these cats can bite for real...

“What’s the plan for today?” you ask. Mike just shrugs. He doesn’t seem like the guy who plans things. Ever.

“I have to feed the babies in a bit, I could use a little help, if you’re okay with that?” There’s something about the way this guy says ‘babies’ – even if he’s talking about cats – that hits you straight in the ovaries. Of course you’d love to help!

“Alright, they’re in there,” he says as he points to a sort of tent-looking contraption on the floor near the door. “Sorry guys, you can all come back later!” The cats protest loudly when Mike nudges them softly to get them to leave.

“I thought moving cats was a crime against god?” you say, laughing.

“This is a life-or-death situation,” Mike answers matter-of-factly. Apparently, he can tell from the look on your face that you’re not sure whether he’s joking or not. “I’m serious! Kittens are pretty fragile. Not that they wouldn’t make sure to scare the older ones out of the room if I wait a minute too long to feed them… They’ll do just about anything short of burning the house down.”

Feeding four new-born kittens is a struggle, to say the least – but the cutest struggle ever.

“Why do they scream as if we’re killing them instead of feeding them?” you ask Mike when the continuous ear-splitting screeching becomes so loud that you wonder how four tiny kittens even produce that amount of sound.

“They’re hungry, and aggressively impatient,” he replies, “and these dummies don’t realize they can eat on their own. I’ve seen you do it, so go!” He nudges one of the tiny balls of fur towards the plate of kitten formula and wet food. They finally seem to get that they just walk up to the plate and eat.

“Do these guys have names?” you ask curiously while softly running your fingers over one of the little ones’ backs. It immediately starts to purr, and miraculously finds the food it couldn’t see ten seconds ago.

“Absolutely they do,” Mike says with a grin that doesn’t predict much good. “Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo and Raphael.”

“You named them after the ninja turtles?” you laugh. Even though you barely know this guy, it seems like a very Mike thing to do.

“There’s four of them! What else was I supposed to do?” He makes a good point there, to be honest.

The kittens finish their lunch, and you watch them crawl around the room as Mike puts some stuff away. Of course he comes back right when you’re telling one of the kittens how absolutely adorable he is.

“It’s the name, us Mikey’s are just cuter,” Mike says as he drops to his knees next to you. “I’m trying to talk my mom into keeping him. Not that it takes much, but she consistently ends up at ‘let’s just keep them all!’ and we already have six. Come here, let’s put on a movie.”

You take note of how he says ‘put on’ and not ‘watch’. At first, you think it’s incredibly presumptuous of him, but you soon find out he’s right. There’s no watching this movie. Not with those four clouds on legs scurrying around the room, stealing the show.

“I can’t believe you’re using kittens to win me over,” you say. You’re trying to sound annoyed, but there’s absolutely no way to keep the laughter out of your voice.

“Is it working?” Mike asks as he curls up behind you, leaning his head on your shoulder to be able to look over the edge of his bed, at the area of the floor you’re watching. Four impatient kittens have lined up there, screaming up at the two of you at the top of their tiny little lungs – which, again, is surprisingly loud, actually. “You can pick them up if you want, they just want to cuddle.”

You turn your head towards him in surprise, only to be met with what you’re hoping are Mike’s most convincing puppy eyes. If there’s an even cuter setting, you’re in serious trouble. “Oh, it’s definitely working.”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t have the guts to ask you out before,” he laughs. There’s something about the way he bites his lip that makes you want to kiss him. Hard. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, and he’s suddenly very interested in the softly purring kittens that are now in his lap. “Still can’t believe you said yes. I never thought you liked me back.”

You look at him and try to keep your mouth from falling open from sheer disbelief. “Mike, why would I keep coming to a place where I consistently don’t get what I ordered? Only a massively cute barista could make me do something like that.”

Your heart just about melts when Mike smiles shyly, and you almost miss how he leans in and kisses your lips so softly you have to convince yourself it actually happened. He doesn’t pull all the way back, but he doesn’t move closer again, either. Your turn. You go back and forth like this for a while, until a tiny nail pokes painfully into your leg.

“Ow! Which one of you did that?” You manage a frown until you actually look down at the furry suspects. They’re just too fucking cute to be any kind of upset with.

“Has to be Leo,” Mike says, “little Mikey would never do me dirty like that.” He gently nudges his tiny namesake, who immediately rolls over. You spend some more time playing with the kittens, until all four of them are finally asleep somewhere on you. Mike throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side. By now, you’re halfway through the movie, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going on. You put your head on Mike’s shoulder, and he, in turn, rests his head against yours.

When Mike moves away only a few seconds later, you want to be offended. When he pulls the tiny cats off your lap, you are offended. So are they, judging from the amount of noise they make when he puts them back in their nest and tells them to go to sleep.

“Jesus Christ,” Mike says – likely in response to violent scratching noises from behind the closed bedroom door, which he opens to find Sy, Nova and Nyx. “Can’t you idiots go sleep literally anywhere else? I’m on a date here!” That story is of absolutely minimal interest to the trio, who stroll into the room as if they own the place. Sy – who moves way faster than you’d expect from a cat his size – is quick to take Mike’s place next to you.

“Absolutely not, you dick!” Mike grabs him and unceremoniously tosses him off the bed. He barely has time to sit down next to you again, because Nyx makes a play for his spot. “Motherf-! I love you guys, but you’re fucking annoying! Sy, fuck off!”

Somehow, Sy seems to have decided that the perfect spot to sit is behind Mike’s back. He’s wrong.

It takes some time and an extensive amount of cat-wrangling to get back into your comfortable cuddling position from before, but you eventually manage. The cats take a while longer to accept that they’ll just have to deal with your presence – however inconvenient to them – when finding a place to snooze. You don’t know if it’s the comfortable warmth, or the soft purrs that you hear all around you, but you drift off to sleep in no time…

#mike hellraiser #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser) x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mikey x reader #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

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ofmermaidstories · 2 years

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I have something verse brain rot literally just thinking about any of them living their day to day lives 😭 today's brain rot star is kiri! I was wondering if you had any plans for a reader x kiri fic? Or even what that might look like? What sort of reader would it be? I feel like it'd be very easy to fall in love with kiri 😩 weeds had that same thought if I'm remembering correctly

Oh my gosh—I know I’ve blabbered on about this before, but like, originally Kiri was going to have a fic within the in another life verse!!! Him and Shinsou were going to round up the pack and I was going to call the series Five Lives (after my favourite Bleach quote LMFAO) and none of the fics were going to be connected—they were all true stand-alones.

this is a screenshot of my original notes when i first realised i wanted to write fics for this fandom LOL ldkfjsdlkfjsdj. you can kind of see where i like, ask myself questions? it’s almost like a stream of consciousness that i cut myself off with. But like, you can kinda see this with how Kiri’s Reader has two story ideas lmaoooo. I scrapped the Barista idea pretty early on because i had the much better, superior, idea of his Reader being a seamstress for the Tokyo Ballet!!! Especially considering I really liked the idea of giving Kiri a plus-sized Reader??? Like, I liked the juxtaposition of some one who maybe experienced a little insecurity in themselves for something visible—compared to a Pro Hero like Kirishima, who’s gone through that internally, like, you know what i mean?? And then I just made our Reader a ballet seamstress because ballet is PRETTY and the amount of fashion/costume porn I could’ve shoved in there…. *chef’s kiss*. Ugh. The swan metaphors???? I could’ve UNLEASHED! 🦢

Anyways, so why am I talking about this in past tense? Mostly because it’s not going to fit into what the in another life verse has morphed into, so now idk what to do with it. juggling three Y/Ns is enough of a test without trying to carry them over into two other stories (which is mostly why the IAL verse has been whittled down to three fics, instead of five). I want to do a Kiri and Shinsou fic—specially these ones, and they’re still on my personal list, it’s just given how unproductive I actually am with my fanfic writing (it’s ‘cause….. im lazy 😌) i just… idk, i worry, LOL. These ideas could work as one-shots but I know what people want out of a Kiri and Shinsou fic from me—they want length and adventure and romance. 🥺 and i wanna give that!!! it’s just………. gonna take us a bit of time to get there. 🥹 im slow. IM SLOW. 🐌🌿🌷 beep beep. 🚗

#ofmermaidstories-asks #the library queue: merms tries to write #good night sleep tight: the bedtime queue

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lgcsomin · 1 year

Text

/ birthday event prep with moon somin

when it’s almost her birthday, somin had almost forgotten the cafe event that legacy does for all of their artists. it’s been more than a year since her debut, but she still is kinda feeling like she’s living in a dream. she’s been actively living her life and feeling like some of it isn’t real.

and then this cafe event. seeing the birthday cafe events for her last year had been genuinely wild and she’s seen the ads pop up online for this year. she hopes she’ll have time to drop by one of them and get a cupholder for herself, but she’s not too sure if she’ll have time considering it’s during comeback promotions. but hopefully. she really wants one to keep in her room, even if she’s only going to use it as a display item.

either way, she’s in the kitchen with a camera crew in front of her and a baker and a barista to help her come up with her ideal dessert and drink. she had spent a lot of time thinking about the best pairing for her set and she thinks she’s decided on her pairing. originally, she had wanted to do a cake of some sort with a milk tea, but she had been a bit worried that it might be too heavy for her fans.

so she had carefully thought about the pairing every time she got a cake or a drink from a cafe and thought it was nice, but in the end she’s going with her favourite drink and one of her favourite desserts.

“okay, so the drink is one i’ve made before i kind of wanted to play off the fact that my colour in crystallis is white, so i’m making an oolong milk tea,” somin says happily after introducing herself to the camera. “it’s not white but it’s really pale and it’s one of my favourite drinks, though i usually get it with pearls.” she doesn’t mention that she usually gets it from gongcha, but she’s being careful to not namedrop any brands.

“it’s actually really easy to make and i make it in the dorms all the time,” she explains, showing the oolong tea that had been provided for her today and she holds it up, grabbing the teapot that’s in front of her and adding a spoonful of the loose leaf tea into it. “then you add hot water and let it’s steep. we’re going to use milk powder, which is lactose free so anyone who is lactose intolerant doesn’t have to worry about this drink!” she grins, knowing that that was important to people who had to worry about that. “and then we’re going to add honey as the sweetener later, which i guess makes this a honey oolong milk tea.”

she sets the teapot aside for now with a timer, moving on to describing her dessert. “i didn’t want something too heavy since the milk tea is milky,” she explains, grinning as she comes to the reveal of her dessert. “so we’re going to make something tart! literally, too. it’s a lemon meringue tart,” she says, happy with her choice.

“i love meringues ... i also love croffles but since those are really popular nowadays, i thought the tart would be better and it’ll pair better too!”

“oh the tea is finished ...” she stops talking so she can add a few spoonfuls of milk powder and also a squeeze of honey, stirring before taking a sip. “oh, i think it needs a little bit more honey,” somin says aloud, nodding and adding a little bit more. after another sip, she brightens visibly and nods. “perfect!”

the baker steps forwards to help direct her on what to do for the pastry from behind the camera, and she laughs a bit sheepishly as she spills some flour but manages to crack the eggs masterfully one-handedly. “i cook a lot, but i don’t bake much so i’m really out of my depth here,” she explains, looking sheepish but she works hard to listen well and follow all the instructions. she manages to make the tart base, letting it rest before returning to attempt to make the lemon curd as well as the meringue.

it’s a struggle, but after some brief struggle with piping, she’s finally at the end stage of the tart. there’s some powdered sugar on her cheek, and she’s struggled a lot but she’s also very proud. “don’t worry you guys, yours will look a lot better,” she can’t help but quip, laughing afterwards.

“but now’s the part i think everyone’s been waiting for, right? because i definitely have been ... the torching!” she holds up the blowtorch, trying not to look too excited and probably failing miserably as she gets the okay to turn it on, facing it away from her. she lightly torches the meringue, watching as it browns and she does it until she’s satisfied with the result.

there’s a slight cut where she goes to freshen up and fix her makeup before returning with the finished drink and dessert set up in front of her. “tadaaah~” somin singsongs happily, showing both items to the camera.

“here i present to you my dalcha,” she says, holding up the honey oolong milk tea, “which you can have hot or iced, even though mine is currently iced. and the tart is called lemon moon,” she says, and maybe she’s being cheesy for making so many moon puns but she doesn’t care either. her whole vibe is supposed to be somewhat celestial, from her last name to her stage name.

“i hope you guys enjoy it!”

#( s / )#lgc:birthday #( wc / 942 )

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downtowns-universe · 1 year

Text

The Lighthouse

(loosely based on this prompt)

Words: 2953

“Harrison?” the interviewer had asked. “Like Martin Harrison?”

“My father,” you'd confirmed.

The man had looked pleased and leaned in conspiringly, dark eyes peering at you over his glasses.

“I suppose you won't need ‘the talk’ then.”

“No, sir,” you'd answered.

It was a weird turn of phrase, but you’d shrugged it off, confident in your barista skills.

You’d been hired on the spot.

You’re thinking of him now, your father, while idly organising supplies behind the counter during a quiet moment. If there was one thing he found important, it was a good cup of coffee. So important even, that his kitchen had started to resemble a small coffee shop over the years. You suppose it’s your kitchen now, technically. He still owns the house, but he’s out enjoying his retirement, travelling the world. He sends postcards every now and then, like a man blissfully unaware of the existence of cell phones – it is but one of his many quirks. You haven’t heard from him in a while, and since you’re in need of money, applying to the place he’d always worked at had seemed like a logical step.

The Lighthouse is oddly located just around a street corner in a small alley, and had you not known it to be there you would have missed it on your first visit. It’s rather small, but the interior looks cosy and inviting with its little hanging lights and plants on the window sills. The owner seems nice enough and appears to be happy to have found help, which is challenging these days, he says. His name is Yusuf and he’s a little odd at times. On your first day he tells you to “never accept any deals offered” – you take this to mean that customers aren’t to be given discounts. He furthermore explains that during your trial period you won’t have to deal with conflicts or unusual requests. You are to leave any troublemakers to him and are under no circumstance to go into the back room. Sounds easy enough – although it only makes you wonder what could be in there. You decide against taking a peek, though. For now.

It’s on your third day when a man enters in a rush, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment to catch his breath. He casts a glance over his shoulder and you follow his gaze outside, where a woman is staring daggers from across the street. She seethes for a minute while you take the man’s order, then she makes her way to the door. You worry, expecting them to bring inside whatever conflict they were having, your boss’ words echoing through your head – where is he off to, anyway? – but she queues without a word, idly scrolling through her phone. You keep an eye on them via the mirror wall behind the counter while preparing your order: the man is visibly nervous, playing with the cords of his hoodie that’s pulled far over his face. You notice he’s wearing gloves – combined with the hood and the scarf around his face you can’t actually see a single inch of skin. A bit much for September, you think – but who are you to judge? You can tell he’s putting a lot of effort into staying calm, keeping his breathing steady and resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. He takes his coffee with shaking hands and scurries off towards a table.

The woman now steps up, putting her phone away and giving you a scrutinising look, as if sizing you up. Her eyes are a striking shade of blue. They seem to pierce right through you.

“Welcome to The Lighthouse, what can I get you today?” you run your standard greeting, desperate to end this rather awkward moment.

She forces a smile. Her eyes remain cold.

“A latte, please. Oat milk.”

A perfectly normal request, but her words cut like knives. There’s something about her that sends a shiver down your spine, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. You’re halfway through preparing her order when you realise you forgot to charge her. A mistake easily remedied when you hand her the drink, but it does throw you off.

She takes her order, turns, and does a double take. The man is nowhere to be seen. She curses under her breath – you don’t quite catch it, must be foreign – and rushes for the door. Having looked left and right down the street, she sighs and comes back inside, sitting down in the far corner. You are soon occupied with other customers, but you feel a cold presence coming from that corner up until she leaves. You wish her a nice day. She does not reply.

After a few weeks you’ve come to realise The Lighthouse’s clientele is as peculiar as its owner, ranging from creepy old men to the most beautiful people you have ever seen – to the point where you often wonder whether you’re dreaming. The café is frequented by businessmen in suits, haggard looking outdoorsy types with muddy boots, teens in alternative clothing and women who look like they have 1.7 kids and a house with a picket fence. They are wildly different, but the thing uniting them is that they’re all a little bit off. You’ve had people enter without a sound, scaring the shit out of you when your back is turned. People who give you the impression that something about their appearance isn’t adding up, although you can’t quite put your finger on it. People who come in looking like they’ve fought a bear – and won, so you think it best not to comment on it.

You are reminded of the stories your father used to tell when you were younger, about the creatures who walk amongst us, hiding in plain sight. You loved hearing about them most of the time, but some had frightened you – whenever your father picked up on this, a brave knight was always at hand to defeat them. You wonder where he is now, it’s been so long since you’ve had a postcard.

While the atmosphere is amicable most of the time, sometimes you notice this strange tension between people, much like the occurrence during your first week. You’re starting to feel like some of the people you see entering together don’t necessarily like each other, ranging from a noticeable tension and discomfort to active hostility. One time, one of your customers reaches across the table for their conversation partner and actually growls at them. Yusuf – having appeared next to you behind the counter out of nowhere – simply clears his throat, causing them to freeze and sit back down, sheepishly avoiding his gaze. It’s the strangest thing, seeing how his presence can turn the room, his unspoken authority unquestioned. A single look conveying that this is his domain, and being granted access is a privilege easily revoked. While its meaning is crystal clear to you, you don’t understand the reasoning behind it. It’s just a coffee shop, you think. Or is it?

It’s a chaotic afternoon – most tables are full and Yusuf is out for a few hours – when you swear you see a mug fall off a table and just… stop before it would hit the ground. A hand snatches it up, you’re not sure who it belongs to in the chaos surrounding the table the teens are sitting at. They’re an odd bunch, playing a game you’re not sure even has rules. At some point one of them manages to light a napkin on fire; they act like it’s the funniest thing to ever happen. You don’t agree, but they’ve put it out before you can speak up. You’re not sure what to do: you’ve clearly been told not to get involved with troublemakers, but if the place burns down your boss surely won’t be happy. You decide to keep an extra close eye on them while you work through your steady stream of orders. After a particularly loud outburst of cheers one of them catches your eye. Your face must look extra exasperated, since he nudges his neighbour and whispers something. Immediately after, the chaos seems to stay contained to their table: the noise they make seems muted somehow, as if they exist in their own bubble. It makes you believe that there is more to the group than meets the eye, but working here has taught you not to question it. After all: the mug didn’t shatter; napkins and sugar sticks they throw never end up elsewhere; and your noise problem has been taken care of. You go over under the guise of asking if they need anything else, but you don’t detect any kind of strangeness: they seem to hear you just fine and you can place your orders on the table without issue. When they’ve left, you find a considerable tip between the mess they’ve left behind.

You’ve been working there two months when a woman enters in a hurry, clutching the counter. She is covered in blood, a gash down her face. You recognise her from earlier visits.

“Sanctuary!” she gasps.

You look at her, at a loss for words before regaining your composure.

“I’ll call 911.”

Your hand is already on the phone (an old rotary model which you wrongly assumed to be decorative when you first got here – it seems Yusuf shares your father’s distaste for smartphones) when you feel another hand grip yours.

“No,” Yusuf says firmly, and once again you wonder where the hell he appeared from this time.

Instead, he gestures for the woman to come around the counter and leads her to the back room.

“Man the counter,” he commands, as if you weren’t already doing just that. “Let no one back here.”

You nervously eye the remaining customers, who by now are all looking in your direction. There’s a man twice your size sharing a table with a woman wearing a spike-studded jacket. When you meet their eyes they go back to their business as if nothing happened. Your attention shifts to a kid in the far back – no older that fifteen, you estimate, but their eyes look much, much older. Eyes so bright they seem to glow when they meet yours, before they focus them on the drink in front of them – a hot chocolate with extra cream, you recall.

You’re uncertain how your presence will stop anyone from coming behind the counter (yes, even the kid – they have a creepy vibe over them), but none of them seem interested in this in the slightest. A few minutes go by, during which you nervously stack cups fresh out of the dishwasher, hoping your customers don’t notice the clattering your shaking hands cause. Then things happen in a quick succession you struggle to keep up with.

The door flies open. A man enters, clearly in a blind rage. There is blood on his face and he is holding some sort of blade, also covered in blood. You prepare to – scream? Run? What do you do in a situation like this? – when the biker-types stand up from their table, barring the way to you and the counter. They simply stand there, not lifting a finger, having nothing to defend themselves with at their disposal. But it is enough. The intruder stops in his tracks, an unbridled rage in his eyes. He doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t lift his blade or even as much as swears at them. They just stand there – an unspoken, invisible battle happening before your eyes.

“Fuck it,” it sounds, the growled words breaking the tense silence.

The intruder turns to leave, but looks over his shoulder once more.

“Fuck sanctuary,” he spits before slamming the door behind him.

“What the fuck is going on?!” you demand when your boss emerges from the back room.

Your customers have left and you’re about to close up. You notice the woman is not with him, she must still be in the back. Or perhaps she left though the back door.

Yusuf doesn’t reply and instead looks you over.

“Whatever we do, we never call 911,” he sighs. “Not in these circles.”

“Which circles are those, exactly?” you ask, even though you feel as if you might already have an inkling.

Yusuf simply nods, as if a suspicion has been confirmed, and gestures in your direction.

“It seems like I wrongly assumed your father has told you all about this place; about his job. That’s on me. You see: in this world, things like that aren’t often spoken aloud. There’s a certain risk involved. Of course, leaving things as assumed brings with it its own risks, as we’ve experienced.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples.

“He truly told you nothing about the supernatural and the dangers hidden in the world we exist in?”

“There were stories he used to tell,” you remember. “Stories about magic and all sorts of creatures – but I always thought they were just that: stories.”

Your boss shakes his head.

“They weren’t. They were based on things he’d seen, creatures he’d fought.”

“My dad’s just a barista,” you reply, the confusion clearly visible on your face.

Yusuf nods. “Yes. But before that he was something else.”

“A hunter,” you whisper, realising the stories he’d told you about a brave knight fighting vampires and witches had been about himself.

He gestures for you to sit down at a booth. You note that while you are hidden from sight, he has eyes on the door from his position, and can’t help but wonder if he expects the blade-wielding man to pay another visit.

“The Lighthouse is a sanctuary – has been for ages, although back in the day we served more than just coffee,” he smiles, as if at a fond memory. “Historically, sanctuaries are places where the supernatural can gather without the tension of any conflicts that might exist between them. They can include the hunters – but not everywhere, mind you. It really depends on the place and situation. Those who cannot behave themselves are denied access, and other patrons are more than happy to enforce these rules, as you’ve witnessed.”

“And how does my father fit into this?”

“He came by once, many years ago. Constantly looking over his shoulder, hands shaking while nursing his coffee. Afraid of something. I approached him, asking if he needed any help. He laughed in my face, saying sanctuary wouldn’t protect him from this. I told him I believed otherwise. He kept coming back, so I suppose he must have believed it too, after all.”

“What was he so afraid of?” you ask.

“I never asked,” Yusuf smiles. “It was always difficult to pry any details from him. Sometimes he'd arrive bloodied, bruised, beaten. He'd sit in a corner not saying a word. Sometimes, in his better moods, he would chat me up at the counter. I'd do anything for that smile of his. He was irresistible, your father."

Yusuf stares off in the distance for a moment, a twinkle in his eyes. He looks back at you, his face serious again.

“One day he came to me asking for a job, saying he was done with it all, that he couldn’t afford to go out and risk himself like that any longer. It was around when you were born, I estimate.”

“When I was– ”

You pause to look at your boss, who you had assumed to be about ten years older than you.

“Yusuf… how long have you owned this place?”

He grins, his teeth a little sharper than you’d expect.

“A while. To be quite honest, I lost count somewhere along the way.”

You are silent for a while. You think of your father, out there somewhere in the world, and wonder if perhaps he has picked up some old habits again now that you can take care of yourself. Then you look back at Yusuf – who, now that you’ve gotten a good look at him, is definitely not human, and you’re not sure how you could ever have thought otherwise.

“Tell me more.”

Every time you are confident The Lighthouse no longer holds any secrets for you, it somehow manages to prove you wrong. You have a lot to learn still, but you think you can name most of the contents of the shelves in the back room as well as their uses. You can prepare most of the items on the secret menu, although most patrons who order from it still ask to see Yusuf. Understandable, considering their need for secrecy – even in a place like this their identity is at risk. Luckily, there haven’t been many calls for sanctuary. The woman who’d called it earlier has become a regular, so you’ve stopped lying awake at night worrying for her safety.

You’re carrying an order to a table when you hear the chime, indicating someone has entered. You place the drink in front of your customer; a very tall and androgynous person with skinny arms and long fingers. From experience you know their kind are not fond of metal utensils, so you’ve included a wooden teaspoon. They appreciate the gesture, smiling at you with a grin that’s a little too wide. You give them a nod and turn around to greet the new arrival.

You almost drop the tray you’re holding. Before you stands a man, a little greyer than you remember; there’s a scar on his cheek that’s new to you. He’s wearing a long leather coat and has a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey kid,” he grins at the surprised look on your face. “I figured I’d find you here.”

#story #2023tag

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formula1andbeyond · 2 years

Note

Hey ☺️ Can I request a Pierre one ? Where you have a 3 years old little boy from a prev relationship and really scared how pierres family will react boy that instantly fall in love with him just like he did?🥰

A perfect man - P.G.

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Summary: Ferrari worker and single mom y/n’s whole life changes when she meets the sweet and charismatic Pierre Gasly. He embraces her and her past immediately, but y/n worries that his family won’t do the same.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warning: Fluff! Accusations of cheating,

Notes: Okay… so I got a little bit carried away with this. But it was so much fun! I really hope you enjoy reading this, even if I might have missed a bit on the request? Also, I hope I hit Pierre’s personality somewhat. I haven't written anything for him before. My French also sucks (embarrassing since I took lessons for five years), so I hope the absolutely minuscule amount in here is correct, hahaha. Enjoy!

A lot of people had told you it was stupid, ridiculous even, to be a single parent at just nineteen years old. Your own parents had looked at you with disgust, as they gave you an hour to pack your stuff and leave their house. No child of theirs could ever be part of such a scandal. Your boyfriend had denied it. Said it couldn’t be possible for him to be a dad. He told everyone you knew that you had cheated on him, and gotten knocked up. Even your friends turned against you.

So you had left. You, your suitcase and the barely visible bump on your belly. It had taken a few weeks of couch surfing, before a distant friend of yours had put you in contact with her cousin, who had a room to spare.

That was how you’d been introduced to Angela Cullen, and the unbelievable, fast-paced world of F1. Angela had tried to get you a job at Mercedes, to no avail. There were no jobs left with them. But, as you were sending out resumes left and right to every store and coffee shop in the world (at least it felt like that), Angela had managed to get you a job. It was small. A coffee barista for Ferrari f1’s hospitality. But it was something, and you happily joined the circus. Not once did you look back.

It was incredibly fun, getting to see so much of the world, and earning money while you did it. The people you worked with were kind and helpful and understanding. Even the drivers were smiley and funny and took the time to get to know you.

When Noah, your son, was born, you thought your days at F1 were over. How would it be possible to travel with such a small child? But the team gathered around you. They knew how much you needed this job. With the help of all your colleagues and Angela, you managed to continue your job with the team, as well as care for your son. And that was how you met him.

The driver that would soon occupy every thought you had. The man who’s smile lighted up the entire paddock, and who always seemed to have time to talk to the smallest of workers. And even though you for the firs few months only watched him from a distance, there was something about that. Pierre Gasly just had this magnetic energy about him.

—-------------

It had been a pretty normal day, the first time you spoke to Pierre. Friday before the season opener in Melbourne. It was a big one. You and Noah had been hanging out behind the counter of the Ferrari coffee bar, and you were fussing about his tiny red ferrari shirt. A gift from one of your co-workers. A real ferrari fan from day one, you thought and smiled. It was hard to believe he was already six months old. Time really did fly.

“Hey, y/n!” A familiar voice said. You stood up, and smiled at Charles Leclerc, one of the drivers for your team.

“Hi! The usual?” You asked him, and he nodded, as he walked around the counter. You sent him a mock scold when he picked Noah from his chair. The small boy babbled happily, as Charles bounced him slightly.

“He’s getting big,” the monégasque pointed out. You were about to answer, when Chales got distracted, turning away from you. He waved his hand. You looked towards the door, and froze instantly. Pierre Gasly was standing in the door, looking around a little worried. Charles beckoned his friend inside. A panicked feeling began rising inside you.

Had Charles somehow learned of your stupid crush on the french driver? Was he mocking you? Not that you had ever actually talked to Pierre. But he was hot. Like, ridiculously so. And he seemed so sweet. And had a nice smile. A very nice smile.

“This is y/n, who I told you about! And her son, Noah,” Charles introduced you. Charles had talked about you? Why would he do that? Your mind briefly wondered if all the drivers had been told about the stupid ferrari barista who got knocked up at nineteen, but that wasn’t Charles’ style.

Pierre turned his smile to you, and all your worries melted away. No way Chalres had said anything rude about you.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Pierre,” Pierre told you, holding out a long, slender hand. You were about to answer when the milk frother suddenly gurgled, and spat milk in every direction, splashing you down. You groaned and blushed, as Charles laughed, and Noah babbled. So much for making a good first impression. You grabbed some paper from the counter, and began wiping your face.

“Here- I’ll help,” suddenly, Pierre was beside you, grabbing some paper as well, and drying the counter, helping you clean up the mess. You blushed even more. “Thank you.”

Pierre and your friendship only went up from there. He was the sweetest you could ask for. Always helping with Noah, or just stopping by to check on you. Your crush never dwindled, but at least it settled. You could look at Pierre without blushing now, which was a success.

Charles would sometimes tease the two of you, calling you a family or Pierre a dad, joking around with it. You always pretended that it didn’t bother you, but you knew what you wanted. Pierre was just perfect. He hung out with Noah all the time. He was there for his first word (Car) and his first steps. Helped you care for him, played for him, even fed him and changed his diapers. And of course showered him in Alpha Tauri merch. Charles was quick to cover it all in Ferrari merch again. Noah even had his own name for Pierre, calling him Pipie. How could you not like a man like that?

Unfortunately, your pretend bliss couldn’t continue, and a little after Noah’s third birthday, something changed. You and Pierre were cleaning up the kitchen of his apartment, where you’d hosted a get together for Noah. The boy in question was sitting on the floor, crashing his toy F1 cars (courtesy of Charles, of course) into each other. A big yawn from the small boy made you laugh.

“I think it’s bedtime, baby,” You said to your boy, leaning down to grab him. But Noah shook his head hard.

“NO!” He shouted, and pointed to Pierre, “Papa!”

Both you and Pierre froze. That definitely wasn't PiPie. Neither of you could even pretend that it was. Noah shouted a few more times, looking between the shocked adults. Pierre, clearly sensing the beginning of a tantrum, snapped out of his shock, and picked up the small boy. They disappeared into the guest room, and you could hear Noah happily talking about something you didn’t understand.

Later you had no memory of when you sat down on the couch, but there you were, Pierre handing you a glass of water.

“So-” He began. You cut him off.

“Pierre, I am so, so sorry- I swear I’ve never told him to say that. He must have heard Charles joking about it or something. I-”

“Y/n, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll find a way to tell him to stop.” Pierre swallowed hard, looking into your eyes.

“You don’t have to.” He said. You were stunned, blinking slowly at your friend. Pierre grabbed your hand in his. Nervously, he played with your fingers. He continued talking.

“Listen. This- eh, us. I think Charles has a point. I mean, we just arranged a birthday party for a three year old together. And Noah. I love him so much! Every minute I spend with him is perfect. And that little boy deserves a dad. Not that I don’t think you’re doing an amazing job alone, because you are! But you don’t have to.”

Tears were streaming down your face. How did such a perfect man even exist? Was it legal to be this perfect? You sniffed, as Pierre raised a hand, and brushed some tears from your check. His large hand cupped your jaw. A breath caught in your throat, as his green eyes met your watery ones. Your quick look at his lips was all Pierre needed. Suddenly, his soft lips were on yours and all other thoughts left your head.

After that day, there were no questions. Pierre dived head first into his duties as boyfriend and papa. He continued to be even more perfect than he had been before. Noah seemed to adore him even more, and you felt like the luckiest girl alive.

When the 2021 season came towards an end, you felt the looming presence of Christmas slowly inching closer. You really didn’t want to intrude on Angela’s holiday again. That woman had already done more than enough for you in the last few years. And you, like the coward you were, didn’t want to bring it up with Pierre. You hadn’t dated for that long, and he was probably going home to his family.

In Saudi Arabia, you watched the race with your heart in your throat. The insane ending left you completely speechless. Same with most of the team. But that didn’t stop complet madness from erupting when Carlos got P3, earning the team the much awaited third in the constructors championship. You laughed and celebrated with the others, when someone nudged you from the side.

“Your man’s getting interviewed,” a friend of yours said. You looked to where she was pointing, and saw Pierre walking towards a sky sports interview. With Noah on your hip (he was almost too big now), you walked closer, standing off to the side with a proud smile.

“So, Pierre. What will you do now? Any holiday plans?” the interviewer asked him. Pierre smiled, and shot you a look.

“Yeah, actually. I’m spending Christmas with my family. I want to show my girlfriend France, and where I’m from. We haven’t had the time to go there yet. And Noah should start learning French soon,” he said and laughed. You blushed. Guess that was Christmas solved.

—-----------------

When the day for departure to France actually was upon you, you lost all your confidence. What would Pierre’s family say? You knew Pierre was fine with you having a child from an earlier relationship. But what would his family say? You didn't know them! Despite Pierre’s constant reassurance, you were a nervous wreck. Even Noah picked up on your energy, resulting in him getting antsy and moody.

“I’m sorry,” you groaned, as Pierre once again had to distract Noah away from a tantrum. You rubbed your eyes. “I’m a terrible mother!”

Your boyfriend shook his head, and wrapped an arm around you.

“You are the most amazing mother, amore. Now, please don’t be nervous. I promise my family won't bite.” You laughed a little. Pierre smiled softly, and kissed your head.

“It’s just-”

“Y/n…”

“But what if-”

“No, y/n! I promise my family will love you and Noah just as much as I do. Maybe even more. My mother loves children. And she’s seen tons of pictures of him. My whole family has been begging to meet the two of you. I promise.”

With that as your reassurance, you boarded the plane, and took off towards France. There was no backing down. Noah bounced happily on your lap. He was very used to planes, especially for such a young child. And you, of course, were very used to travelling with a child. You dreaded him getting old enough to start running away at airports.

The plane touched down in France way faster than you had wanted. Biting your lip, you let Pierre handle the luggage, as you wrestled Noah away from the tax free store. He really didn't need all that candy, especially if what Pierre had said about his mothers cooking was true. Before you knew it, the three of you were walking out of the baggage claim.

You were clutching Noah in one hand, and your suitcase in the other. Pierre had his free hand loosely on your back. Outside, the sun was shining, despite the slight cold. Even before she could see the three of you, you found Pierre’s mother in the crowd. You had seen enough photos of her to know how she looked. Her eyes widened, and a grin spread across her face when she saw your little family. Tugging at Pierre’s dad, she walked towards you, arms wide.

You watched with a little smile, as mother and son reunited. The two of them looked sweet, and the smile on Pierre’s face was everything. Once Pascale managed to let go of her son, she turned to you and yours.

“You must be y/n!” She said, grabbing your hands. You nodded once, too nervous to speak. Pascale grinned. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you. Pierre barely talks about anything else. I’m Pascale, and this is my husband Jean.”

“Nice to meet you-” You stuttered out. Pascale kissed your cheeks, then turned her attention down. Noah was clutching your leg, looking wide eyed at the two new adults. Pascale crouched down to him.

“Bonjour, mon chérie. My name is Pascale. But please call me Mamé.” Noah looked up at you, eyes wide. You nodded with a little smile.

“Mamé?” Noah tried the new word in his mouth. The french pronunciation not quite fitting into his mouth. But it sounded adorable. Pierre’s dad chuckled.

“He will get it soon,” the large man said, and turned to you. “The whole family is waiting for you at home. I hope that is alright. I also made sure to install a car seat in the car. We weren’t sure if you were bringing one.”

Tears began filling your eyes. What had you done to deserve this? Why were these complete strangers so nice to you? Your own family didn't even want you, yet these people did. You felt completely overwhelmed and thankful.

“Thank you,” You said with a smile, and Jean nodded to you. Noah had already started walking towards the car, clutching Pascale’s hand and talking non stop. He was a very trusting child. Jean began following them, pulling your suitcase as he muttered about him being the one with the car keys. You chuckled. A hand snaked its way around your waist. With a content sigh, you leaned into Pierre, and met his eyes. They twinkled down to you. He kissed your forehead softly.

“Do you believe me now, amore? They will love you. Just like I do.”

#f1 #f1blr #formula 1 #formula one #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #charles leclerc #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fluff #fanfiction #formula one fanfiction #f1 driver x reader #alpha tauri #alpha tauri f1 #red bull racing #ferrari f1

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

1K notes · View notes

violettelueur · 3 years

Text

— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + NANAMI KENTO || THEIR S/O FAINTING AFTER A MISSION

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + nanami kento from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues and mention of blood

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 15 january

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : Hi hi!! How are you? I really hope you are doing okay! Can I request headcanons for Nanami, Gojo and Fushiguro pls? With a female s/o who is a skilled sorcerer? Something like, one day she just faints from exhaustion in the middle of a difficult battle, they catch her before she hits the ground and she is all beaten up and such? I just want this men to pamper me lol! Thank you, and pls have a nice day!!

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, i didn’t see the ‘in the middle of a difficult battle’ when i read the request, so i do apologies for it ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ ALSO WHO IS EXCITED FOR JUJUTSU KAISEN TO COME BACK TODAY? AHHHHH FINALLYYYYYY ʕ♡˙ᴥ˙♡ʔ also i do apologies for the lack of updates yesterday since i was busy with my classes and was sorting out my university offers/studies since my government is making a whole mess on what is going on with my a-levels (i hate it here...) moving on from that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

When Fushiguro sees you beginning to fall, he is ready to rush towards you before you even touch the ground since he didn’t want you to get any more injuries - presumably to your head - than the ones you have already.

Fushiguro is somewhat surprised that you had fainted after killing the curse, but also not surprised at the same time.

He is surprised because you are a skilled sorcerer and whenever you came back - in whatever condition you were in - you always had a smile on your face even when you were tired.

However, he is not surprised because this fight you two had was extremely exhausting and difficult due to the cure being one of the special grades that were holding Sukuna’s finger.

Even though he is a person that hides his emotions quite well. However, when it is about you, his emotions are a bit more open and obvious.

So when you fainted, he is extremely worried and scared - this is very visible on his face - and begins to check if you are breathing first before checking up on your injuries.

At the beginning of your relationship, he would carry you on his back but after a while into the relationship, he would just instantaneously carry you bridal style.

Once he knows what state you are in - he would feel better if you are stable of course - he would rush back to whoever was transporting you both and firmly tell them to get you both back to Jujutsu Tech to see Ieiri.

During the whole car ride, he would just keep you near him and continuously check up on you - if you wake up during the journey, he would ask if you are okay and inform you how long you guys have left before you reach back to the school.

When you get back to Jujutsu Tech, he would just immediately carry you in his arms and rush to Iriei so you can get fixed up.

Once you are healed, Fushiguro will force you to rest no matter what because he is genuinely worried about you since this is one of the rare moments where you blackout during a mission and he’s worried that you might overwork yourself - he will stay beside your bed at your beckoning call. Ask him for a cup of water and he will rush to get you one.

I feel like he would scold you a bit like a parent telling off their child - but as I have said, he is just extremely worried.

But he will continuously ask if you are doing alright during the following days especially during training days since he doesn’t tell you to take it easy - hell, he will probably tell Kugisaki to go easy on you, much to your dismay.

Once Gojo sees you staggering, he knows what is going to happen is behind you the second you lose your footing.

To be honest, he doesn’t blame you for falling to exhaustion since you have been going to many missions back to back before this and this mission - which was the last one - had to be the most exhausting since the higher-ups had to send both of you on it.

Gojo will be angry at the higher-ups, but there is nothing he could do now since he had to concentrate on you right now and from what he could see, you were in a bad condition with your body plagued by bruises and cuts.

Depending on your injuries, if you are losing a lot of blood, Gojo will become extremely worried and it is very evident - heck, even a single cut gets his worried

Unlike Fushiguro, Gojo is comfortable with physical touch in a relationship and will instantly carry you bridal style since the beginning of the whole relationship.

Since you are unresponsive, Gojo will rush back to the school within a flash and make Iriei heal you immediately since he didn’t really check your injuries thoroughly since like I said, a single cut gets him anxious - he will probably tell her to hurry up to which annoys her quite a bit

However, if he has to take the car, he would keep you close to him by having you on his lap and will keep looking at you to see if you wake up or suddenly become worse

Once Ieiri has completed her healing session with you, Gojo will carry you back to your shared room and keeps an eye on you from time to time - if he has to go away on a mission, he would leave a piece of cake or a sweet on your bedside table and messages you a text.

Let’s just say when he has to meet the higher-ups, he will get extremely angry at them for sending you on too many missions and will probably threaten them with his chest - with C O N F I D A N C E.

When he gets back, he will hold you close and comfort you the best he can since he thinks you’ll feel guilty after what happened - but he will sweet talk you to make you feel better.

From what we all know, Nanami is a very observant person and once you both kill the curse, he would already be right by your side.

However, when he feels you hit his body, he instantly knows that you are exhausted but is somewhat surprised that you had fainted.

Even though Nanami is confident in your skills as a sorcerer, he can’t help but tell you to make sure you don’t over push it since he is anxious about you from time to time.

So when you faint, he gets worried - but unlike Fushiguro, he can easily maintain his emotions - but there are times where his emotions get the better of him (like when Nanami got extremely worried about Itadori in the last episode)

He will check your injuries with an intense stare and will come with a conclusion on how you are by his analysis - he will set a time on when you have to get back to Jujutsu Tech before you become in a critical state.

He will rush Ichiiji when you have fainted - poor man - and will pressure him to drive faster - he will look at his watch every second.

Nanami would lay you down on the back seat with your head on his lap, so he can see if you wake up before you and him get back to Jujutsu Tech.

When he gets back to Jujutsu Tech, he will bring you to Ieiri and he will be impatiently patient with her since he knows that she is capable of bringing you into your top condition for now.

Once you wake up, Nanami will scold you - worse than Fushiguro - and questions on you why you were pushing yourself when he told you not to.

He will also scold you for not listening to him since we all know that Nanami Kento is a very responsible person out of everyone in Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

He will check up on you to make you have eaten and hydrated yourself and if you haven’t...don’t be surprised when he will lecture you again.

Once his lecture is done, he will force you to rest and tell you not to pick up any more missions for the time being - he just doesn’t want to see you hurt and just has a different way of showing it compared to Gojo and Fushiguro.

2K notes · View notes

v-hope · 3 years

Text

Brat, 8:47PM — Belong

Taehyung’s eyes travelled from the phone in his hand to the door the second he heard it being unlocked by you. Nevertheless, it remained closed — your rather fast steps being heard as he supposed you made it to the other side of the bedroom.

Standing there, he stared at the door for a few seconds. Although he had been very demanding only seconds ago when it came to you letting him in so he could properly check up on you, now that the lock was no longer stopping him from getting to you, he couldn’t help but hesitate. After all, what was he supposed to do now? Go in, of course, but then what? He didn’t know what to say to begin with. He had just acted out of instinct. Your parents were raising their voices at you, you were crying… the obvious thing to do was for him to rush over to you and tell them off, right?

It had all happened so fast. One second he was in his studio talking to Jimin over text messages, and the next one he was next to you telling your parents to leave his place, for they were not welcome if they were there to mistreat you. They had told him off as well, of course, and maybe he should be scared or at least a little bit worried over his career now that one of the most powerful families in Korea was against him, but, for some reason, he did not care. He was just glad they were gone and you no longer had to listen to their judgemental remarks and harsh voices.

Biting down on his bottom lip as he realised he could do nothing but go inside the room now, he decided to do just that for once and for all. The sight in front of him only increasing his concern.

You rushed from one place of the room to another — open luggage on your bed as you rushedly tried to fold your clothes, yet ended up just messily throwing them inside, as your hands were visibly shaking and you couldn’t manage to properly hold anything in them. That wasn’t what had worried him the most, though, but the way your eyes were welled up with tears and seemed lost, in a way he had never seen before.

“Let me help you” Taehyung managed to blurt out as you struggled with yet another blouse to fold.

You said nothing. Didn’t even look at him. It was as if you were too deep inside your own thoughts to even hear him — only realising he had indeed opened the door and was already in the room with you once he rushed towards you and tried to grab the piece of clothing from your trembling hands.

“I got this” you shook your head, hugging the light fabric to your chest.

“Let me help” he repeated what you had apparently not heard before, tightening his hold onto the blouse.

Nevertheless, you shook your head no again, pulling it tighter against your body.

“I’ve got this” you reassured him.

“You don’t, Y/N…” he replied softly, almost as if trying to soothe you with his voice alone.

The way he looked at you right then, with those chocolate eyes of him visibly softening at the sight of you… you hated it. He stared at you with an expression you had never seen on him before, not while looking at you. And you didn’t know whether it was pity or concern, but you could tell he truly cared. Just like he had admitted over text messages and you had not believed him, for some weird reason, he cared.

And that simple realisation made you finally break down in front of him.

No longer being able to look him in the eye, you let go of the blouse he was holding as well and lowered your head, finally letting the tears that you had managed to control only one minute ago fall all over again — the ones you’ve had so much trouble trying to conceal ever since your parents had started pointing out every single aspect of your life they considered to be a complete failure.

Taehyung was right. You did not have it under control. None of it. Not the packing, not your life. Especially not your life.

Everything was a mess. Your life was a complete fiasco. You were doing it all wrong. And the funniest part was that everything your parents had judged about what they were seeing in Tae’s apartment —which was way too small, among other things, according to them— was not even real anymore. If they knew you had moved out to Hobi’s a few weeks ago now, and that his place was even smaller than Taehyung’s, they would’ve taken you right back home with them like they had just tried to do only minutes ago.

You weren’t doing well enough for them to let you live away from them and their rules, and you didn’t know if you ever would be able to live up to their expectations, whether it was back home with them or trying to make a living on your own.

You weren’t earning enough money to live the life you were used to. You weren’t keeping up with your public image the way you were supposed to. You were hardly ever spending time with Sungjin to make everyone believe you guys were together. And so, you could no longer stay strong like you had tried to for so long, for in that moment, in that very moment, you truly believed your parents were right.

Covering your face with both your hands, you sat down on the edge of the bed as you let the first sob come out of your mouth. After that, there was no stopping — sob after sob being heard through the room, each of them louder and more heartbroken than the first.

Taehyung stood there almost frozen, not knowing what to do at all. He had never been good when it came to comforting people, and the fact that it was you the one breaking down right in front of him only made it so much worse. Did you want space? Did you want words of encouragement? A hug, maybe? God, he had no idea how to deal with you and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to make it better, to stop you from hurting, yet he had no idea how to, or why he even cared so much to begin with.

He awkwardly cleared his throat — your blouse long forgotten as he let it fall into the bag and sat beside you.

“Hey,” he quietly tried to call your attention, which only caused you to shake your head no as you buried your face deeper against your palms, with that simple act of yours letting him know you weren’t ready to look at him just yet. “I know we’re not exactly friends, but… you can trust me, really. Whatever you’re going through right now, you can tell me”.

You choked on a sob, considering whether opening up to him was a good idea or not, for opening up to just anyone was not something you could do. As a heiress and with the eyes of the Korean media on your entire family, you could truly not. And a month ago, you would not have said a word about it to Kim Taehyung. However, he had been there for you in moments you would have not expected him to, and so now, you did trust him. Not entirely yet, but just enough to let him know a piece of what was troubling you right then.

“They want to take me back home” you managed to croak out, bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

Taehyung froze. Something about that idea not feeling right at all. “What?”

You took in a shaky breath, only to let another sob out as you lowered your head, somehow trying to hide from him more than you already were. “They don’t like it here. They say it’s no p-place for a heiress, and I would... love to say they’re wrong because I… I like it here. I like it at Hobi’s and I like my job and my friends, but t-they’re right. I can barely manage by myself, I-I’m a mess… I’m a complete mess an—”

“Yah…” he tried to call you out on it without sounding like he was scolding you. Moving closer to you, he hesitated for a second before he wrapped one of his arms around you, feeling at ease when you didn’t pull away from him and instead had seemed to accept his somewhat awkward show of affection. “You’re just getting the hang of it. You’ll get there eventually”.

You took in a shaky breath, leaning closer to him and finally letting go of your face, only to hide it on his chest so he still couldn’t look at you. “I thought I had finally found my place, but…” you sighed. “They’re right”.

“They’re not” he was quick to deny.

“Yes, they are!” you cried, voice muffled as you remained stuck to his sweater. “Like, am I going to be a barista for the rest of my life? Am I going to be looking for roommates all the time? I can barely afford that, and I can’t go on like that until the day I die” your voice broke. “I enjoy the luxurious life. I also enjoy my current job and my friends. But those two lives don’t go together and somehow I feel like I don’t belong anywhere…”

“Stop that,” Taehyung sighed heavily. “You belong anywhere you want to”.

You shook your head no, tugging at the fabric of this sweater as you tried to hold back another cry.

“You do” he reassured you before you could even open your mouth to deny it.

Once you silently shook your head no for what felt like the millionth time, not trusting your voice at all anymore, he sighed again, deciding to say nothing and pulling you closer to him instead, this time wrapping both arms around you and resting his chin on your head. You didn’t wait to hug him back, burying your face deeper in his chest and letting the rest of your tears roll down your cheeks as your sobs finally started to calm down after a good couple of seconds.

Somehow, being held by him made you feel better.

“It will be alright” he quietly tried to cheer you up.

That’s when you decided to finally stare up at him — pity no longer displaying in his eyes, but what seemed like hope, determination. He couldn’t help but smile sweetly at the current sight of you, your gloomy eyes and puffy face making you seem adorable for some reason. It was a side of you he had never seen before, and, oddly enough, he liked it. You seemed genuine, no longer being that unreachable heiress who so badly tried to keep that perfect image for the world to see. It was just you. You and those innocent eyes he had found a liking to right then.

At the way he was ever so intently staring at you, you didn’t wait to hide your face once again.

“Yah,” he laughed breathily, pulling your hands away from your face so he could look at you. “Why are you hiding?”

“I look hideous” you sheepishly admitted, staring down to your lap once you gave up on trying to cover up from him.

“Is the Kim Y/N really doubting her looks right now?” he couldn’t help but tease, feeling a smile curving up his lips at the sight of the shy one that had shown up on yours.

“I’m an ugly crier” you shrugged, still not daring to look at him.

Taehyung chuckled, cupping your face in his hands and leaving you with no choice but to lock eyes with him as his thumbs gently wiped your tears. “If you call this an ugly crier, then let me tell you you’ve got the wrong concept of the word ugly, princess”.

You couldn’t help but let out a light laugh that had his heart skipping a beat, just like yours had done at his words. “Are you calling me attractive now?”

“More like cute,” he corrected. “But whatever floats your boat”.

“Same thing” you teased him. “Thought you hated me too much to fall for my charms”.

Taehyung rolled his eyes at the way you had playfully batted your eyelashes right then. “First, I don’t hate you. You get on my nerves and are definitely not my favourite person, but hating you would take way too much effort” his words managed to get a roll of eyes from you this time. “And second, I’m not blind, Y/N”.

You smiled, deciding to reply nothing to the compliment he had oh-so-casually given you and just locking eyes with him instead. And you just stayed like that for a while, staring at each other in utter silence as words were suddenly no longer needed.

It was only when your faces had somehow gotten slightly closer and your eyes began to travel from each other’s eyes to your mouths, that Taehyung pulled away, awkwardly clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes as he stood up and nervously ran a hand through his hair.

“You can, um... you can stay the night” he informed.

“You don’t have to worry about me, really” you smiled, deciding to avoid as well the moment the two of you had just shared, and letting him know you appreciated his offering instead. “I’m almost done packing”.

“It’s already dark outside, though” he pointed out. “And, I mean, I can go drop you off if you want, but honestly, don’t feel like you need to leave when you’re not feeling your best”.

“Thank you” you smiled sweetly, standing up as well so you could close your luggage and take it off the bed, later slumping down on it and making yourself comfortable on the mattress you had once grown so used to. “I will leave first thing in the morning”.

“Okay” he smiled as well.

Although it was not late at all —at least not if he considered the time you used to go to bed when you lived with him—, he took your action of lying down on the bed as a sign of you wanting to go to sleep right away. So, taking that as his cue to leave, he turned around without another word to finally give you the space he thought you wanted.

Before he could even reach for the door, though, your rather shy voice caught his attention.

“Taehyung?”

“Mhm?” his eyes fixed on you.

“Can you…” you nervously bit down on your bottom lip, resting on your side as you faced him. “Would you stay here with me for a little longer?”

Taehyung stood by the door for a few seconds, not being able to stop himself from finding you adorable as hell right then. It was a bit ironic, how not long ago he found it annoying when you tried to spend time with him, yet now here you were asking for the same once again and he was so easily falling for it. And so, it didn’t take him long to nod his head and make his way back over you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he fixed his eyes on your attentive ones, not being able to conceal his confused expression when you moved further away on the bed — only realising you had made some space for him to lie down on after you had patted the empty spot next to you.

Although a bit reluctant, he complied. Lying down next to you, he rested on his side as his cheek fell on the pillow so you would be face to face — once again falling into complete silence as your eyes met during way longer than what would be considered normal. Neither of you knowing when it was that silence between the two of you had stopped being awkward, tiring even, and became comfortable instead.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked in what felt more like a whisper, not being able to stop himself from removing a strand of hair that had fallen over one of your eyes after you nodded.

Smiling fondly at such a simple yet loving act of his, it was now you the one who couldn’t help herself — your hand going up to grab his as it was about to leave your face, and gently holding it in yours so you could give it a gentle squeeze as a sign of gratefulness. Taehyung took in a shaky breath at the unexpected contact, yet he did nothing to break it. If anything, he squeezed your hand right back, letting you know that, despite your many differences, he was there both with and for you.

“Sorry for bothering you again” you couldn’t help but apologize, for you had not forgotten you had once told him you would never again ask him to spend time with you.

Funnily enough, right then, to him, it felt far from annoying — lowkey wishing you had forgotten about that to begin with. It was a bit odd being like this with you, that was for sure, but this time he hadn’t minded at all having you ask him to spend a little more time with you. If anything, it felt nice. Being with you the way he was in that precise moment, felt really nice.

“My brother used to stay with me when I was feeling down and…”

Taehyung smiled softly. Who would’ve thought you could be this sweet without even trying. “It’s okay, you don’t need to give me explanations”.

Smiling at him, you unconsciously moved closer as you made yourself more comfortable in bed — his hand still in yours until you let go of it and mindlessly started tracing his fingers with yours, as you had suddenly become too nervous in his presence to keep holding eye contact.

“Thank you” you sincerely said after silence had taken over for a few seconds.

“What for?” he wondered.

“For everything” you explained. “For being here with me, for helping me out today, for letting me stay here with you even when you couldn’t stand me…” a light laugh escaped your mouth at your last mention. “For standing up for me earlier…”

“It was nothing” he reassured you.

“It was a lot to me” you smiled weakly. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Sure”.

You bit down your bottom lip. “How much of it did you hear?”

Taehyung pouted in confusion, not being able to hide his rather taken aback expression. He should’ve known going out of his studio would throw him under the bus about having heard what was going on with you and your parents. Although any decent person would’ve gone to see what was going on after hearing people yelling in their living room, he thought.

Just a few keywords. That was all he had heard. However, they were all pretty compromising… at least the word ‘marriage’ particularly seemed like it, even more after Jimin had been brought up only minutes later in the conversation. And although he thought about mentioning it, for he wanted to know what the hell was going on for once and for all, he decided not to. You already seemed too exhausted that night; maybe some other time.

“Not much?” he bit his bottom lip. “Just your boyfriend being brought up every five seconds”.

“He’s not my boyfriend” you didn’t miss a beat to correct him, causing the corner of his lips to curve up in an amused smile.

“And something about Jimin and you…” he couldn’t help but add nevertheless.

The keyword ‘marriage’ had not been mentioned. Just your mutual friend. Yet it had made you take in a shaky breath and let out a heavy sigh.

Of course out of all the things your parents had said, he had heard that one particular part.

“You’re not telling me any of it, are you?” he lamented, your previous sigh and the way your body had tensed next to his being all he needed to reach said conclusion.

You sheepishly shook your head no. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now” your eyes focused on your hands, still playing with his long fingers. “And Jimin… if he hasn’t told you by now, then I believe you should ask him about it instead”.

“Ask him what?” his eyebrows knitted together.

You shrugged. “Whatever it is you’re trying to ask me”.

Taehyung sighed. He was dying to know everything you were keeping from him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go without knowing the whole story. The annoying part was, that you and Jimin were the same — he wouldn’t give away information regarding you, and you wouldn’t give away information regarding him. It was as if you were each other’s partners in crime, and he had no idea if any of you would ever reach a common ground and give one another the green light to talk about it to him, or he would just have to wait until one of you slipped up.

“You will tell me everything at some point, right?” he tried to push it.

“We’ll see if you deserve it” you kept your answer on the mysterious side.

“I literally just stood up for you in front of your parents” he reminded you.

“Aren’t they lovely, by the way?” you joked.

Although he had laughed along with you at the way they were not lovely at all, a sigh was quick to abandon his mouth right after. “You’re such a brat”.

“That I am” you chuckled.

Taehyung couldn’t deny, though, that he now got where you and Jimin were coming from all along. It didn’t change the fact that, in his eyes, having a family was better than not having one. Nevertheless, yours was truly something else — a little over an hour having them at his, plus belittling him and his place when he had told them to calm down and leave, had been all he needed to find out why you didn’t want to meet up with them in the first place.

“You should embrace it then, princess”.

That made your head snap up, letting him know with your furrowed eyebrows that you did not get what he was talking about.

“Being a brat” he explained, being now him the one to mindlessly play with your fingers as he spoke.

“What?” you laughed lightly.

“I mean, brats get what they want, don’t they?” his words earned an immediate nod from you. “Then just… be that” he shrugged, drawing his eyes back up to yours. “Be an absolute brat and show your parents you can do with your life whatever you want, no matter what they say”.

Smiling at both his words and the way his eyes seemed so genuine right then, you were quick to nod as a small giggle escaped your mouth — not really giving it a second thought when you moved close enough to him to lightly press your head against his chest, and letting out a contented sigh when his thumb began to draw small circles on the back of your hand, giving you the last bit of reassurance for you to decide to go by his words.

Who would’ve thought the one to bring hope back to your life would be the very one who used to point out what a mess you were. Whatever it was that made him change his mind, you liked where you were at in whatever kind of relationship the two of you had right now.

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xxxsoukokuxxx · 3 years

Note

BSD Poe x short(4”11) female reader

Soulmate au

Fluff oneshot

Reader has the ability to turn into a black cat.

Black Cat in the Rue Morgue

Soulmate AU

Character: Poe x short fem!reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Thanks for requesting and for your patience. I haven't written a soulmate AU before so I actually did some research on it and hopefully it pays off. I hope that this is what you wanted and have a pleasant day/night!

The sun was now setting and dipped itself into Yokohama's waters letting it's light drip onto the water's surface. Book in hand, raccoon on his shoulders with a pen in the other hand Poe is lost in his thoughts. The outside world doesn't exist. There is nothing but the various ideas for his novel running through his head and softness of fur against the back of his neck and head.

He jots down a few things that he could elaborate on later. The room is dyed in the color of honey and wine as the fading warmth of the sunset creates a sense of comfort. The side of his face illuminated by the gentle golden color.

Karl suddenly jumps off his shoulders and Poe's startled. His eyes wide, 'How long has it been?' he takes in his surroundings and realizes it's already sunset and soon night will fall upon Yokohama.

Poe gets up, closes his book and stretches with a sickening cracking sound erupting from his back, indeed how long has it been? He looks down to where Karl is sitting on the floor and he reaches to ruffle the fur on his head before leaving the room.

He makes a cup of tea for himself once he's in the kitchen and stares out the window. The sleeve of his shirt slides up a bit as Poe tilts his cup to take a sip, a small scarlet mark of a feline like figure on the underside of his wrist becomes visible. It's always been there but he brushed it off, that was until he came across various articles, theories and fiction books about "soulmates". And he can't help but wonder 'Is there really someone out there who'd love me? Do I have a soulmate? Or is it just a meaningless mark?'

Sometimes he'd think it's preposterous while other times he'd genuinely love that idea. But he always blushes straight after, to imagine spending such intimate moments with someone, to hold their hand, to hold them, to share a meaningful smile...it's really a beautiful thought.

Poe sets his cup down on the counter before adjusting his coat and making his way to the front door of the spacious house and opens it. He peeks through the gap between the door frame and from where he's opened making sure there are no people out at the moment and he sighs a breath of relief. Stepping out into the quiet evening he takes a walk along a specific quiet and peaceful street he likes. Evening and night are the only times he'll ever make it outside the comfort of his home without having an anxiety attack.

As he walks down the pavement a rustling noise can be heard in an alleyway which he is just about to pass. He freezes and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. From the corner of his eye he sees a dark shadow on the floor approaching which makes him panic, "P-Please don't attack me or anything, I really don't have any valuables that you'd wa-" he cut off his sentence as he felt something rub against the bottom of his leg.

Immediately he drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands, "Okay, okay I'll surrender!" he yelps. "..." Nothing. He dares to turn his head towards his left and relief washes over him, a panic stricken face now softens, "Oh, silly me. Always panicking for no good reason." He now looks at a black cat which has it's head tilted to the side out of confusion.

It was the norm for you to roam around the city at night either because you couldn't sleep or you just liked the atmosphere. If someone happened to be walking by and you felt a curious sense of playfulness then you'd just go up and show them some cat-like affection. However, out of all the times you had done so this had never happened. "How cute." he muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts. He reached out to pet the spot atop your head.

'No wonder why cats like this.' was your thought. "I don't see any collar or anything signifying you belong to someone." he said aloud placing his forefinger on his chin. "I can't just leave you here alone, hmm and Karl would have a playmate if I took you back with me...oh but do raccoons and cats get along? They could possibly..." as he rambled on you wondered if this was a good time as any to scram or reveal that you're actually a human who has the ability to turn into a cat, specifically a black one.

You slowly backed away and he noticed. "Oh no don't be scared!" he reaches his hands out to you. Ah, he seemed like such a nice person, a gentle person. You couldn't just leave like that, now could you? A ribbon of grey spun around you with various kanji on it. A bright light flashed and Poe freezes with his hands which wanted to reach out to you. His eyes widen once he sees the sight in front of him and questions everything he knows. His mouth agape.

"Hi." you said shyly whilst dusting your attire. "...you..." he still kneeled on the ground, frozen. You felt nervous but thought that after what he just witnessed it'd be necessary to tell him about yourself. "Uhm, okay I know you think this is weird but there's this thing called abilities and my ability is to turn into a black cat..." you sped through your words while fiddling with your thumbs.

Now he understands. Of course he knows what abilities are. "Oh. Ah, don't worry I know what abilities are. I have one myself." he says standing up, now realizing just how short you are. You look up, "Wait, you do as well?" a certain spark of curiosity in your eyes, I guess having a cat ability allows you to have the same characteristics of a cat. His cheeks have a faint red color on them, you look cute when you're curious.

"Y-Yes, it's called Black Cat in the Rue Morgue." "What a coincidence." you giggle. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs contently, "Yes it is. It allows me to transport my readers into my books." "Oh, you're a writer!?" another spark of curiosity in your eyes. He internally smiled at your apparent excitement, "Yes I am. Ah! Excuse my rudeness, my name is Edgar Allan Poe but you can just call me Poe if you'd like."

A smile adorned your face and you introduced yourself too. "I'm sorry about startling you earlier, I promise you I'm no cat burglar." He blinks and after a moment you both laugh at the little pun made and the situation itself. "I don't think such an innocent looking being could ever do such a thing." he blushes as he says those words and you do too.

He takes a look at his surroundings and back at you. "W-Would you...like to uh join me for a stroll? I was planning on going t-to this cafe that's opened til late?" You look up and smile while silently thinking his stuttering is rather cute. "Sure." The walk there was peaceful and enjoyable, every three seconds he would glance at you and a lingering question would be on his mind but he brushes it off. He tries to get to know you despite his nervousness and he succeeds. Even if it's just the little things such as your favorite color, where you live, if you have any pets.

You both finally reached the cafe and took a seat, he was gentleman about pulling your seat out for you and such. The only part he dreaded was ordering, that anxiousness that would bubble up in his chest made his mouth go dry and he's at a loss for words. The barista comes about and asks if you'd both like to order anything, a simple coffee/latte was fine for you. Poe looked pale and tugged on the front of his shirt. You worried if he was okay but he eventually ordered something to drink off the menu and a sigh of relief escaped him once he was done talking.

"You okay?" His eyes widens as he finally looks up at you again, "Yes. Yeah I'm fine, no need to worry. I just..." he looks down again while rubbing the back of his neck, his hair falling over his eyes. "I'm just really shy if you could say that. Or perhaps i just have social anxiety." he let out a nervous chuckle while lifting his head to smile at you. A giggle escapes you, "I think it's cute." He's taken aback but only because he's not used to being complimented and his face turns red.

The orders are served and the barista bows and leaves again. A light-hearted conversation flitters between you two and Karl comes up somewhere in the conversation, Poe saying that he'd love to let you see him. You tilt your cup to take a sip of your drink and the sleeve of your shirt rides up a bit, revealing a portion of your wrist. Poe is taking a sip too and his eyes flutter over your figure.

His eyes widen once he catches sight of the scarlet mark on your wrist and he chokes. "A-Are you okay?" you put your cup down and panic slightly. "Y-Yes I'm fine." he replies adjusting himself.

"Can I ask you something?" curiosity now lacing his voice. "Sure, go ahead."

"Have you always had that red feline-like mark on your wrist?" You look at the mark and reply that it's always been there, indeed. "I think it's because of my ability but I'm not really sure. Perhaps it's a birthmark." He smiles. "Perhaps it is." Is this what he thinks it is? No...he couldn't possibly just jump to conclusions, but certainly what a coincidence it was. The exact same mark on both your wrists and a meeting like this? A beautiful coincidence it was.

"Why do you ask?" you tilt your head to the side much as you did when you were a cat. And if he didn't think you were any cuter now he'd be damned. "Oh no, just asking." he gives a closed eyes smile.

'Soulmates. How fascinating.' he thinks while smiling at you as you take another sip of your coffee/latte. His eyes wander again to the scarlet mark on your wrist.

And the plot thickens.

#requests #poe x reader #poe x female!reader #poe x fem!reader #edgar allan poe x reader #poe x short fem!reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #scenario #fic #ravenina14 #bsd poe #bsd poe x reader #fluff #poe x reader fluff #soulmate au #poe x reader soulmate au #i understand the header looks shitty

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jann-the-bean · 3 years

Text

Fluffynightkiller

Day 1: There’s a first time for everything

•

“Hi welcome to-“ The barista gaped as a violet eyed skeleton entered his coffee shop. He was entranced by how elegant the skeleton maneuvered himself inside the shop. There was something familiar about this violet skeleton, but the barista couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

The other’s posture was tall, straight, and proud. Not a single limb out of place, no wasted energy in unnecessary actions. His eyes slightly narrowed, refusing to make eye contact with others. At first glance many may view him as arrogant, but not to Ccino. He noticed the slight clenching of his fist and his once graceful strides became rigid with every step he took. As if expecting someone to lash out and attack.

The proud skeleton sat at a table distanced from the rest. From his mannerisms it was obvious he disliked socializing with others. Even when sitting he didn’t slouch, his back remained upright, and his hands delicately placed on the table. How peculiar.. Ccino only ever recalled seeing just one other being who sat in a similar position. It was-

*Ding*

Ccino was pulled from his thoughts upon hearing the door open once more. This time a skeleton with no eyelights appeared. He wore a blue fluffed hoodie, with a strange black stain, and white shorts with a black strips on the sides. One of his sockets was half closed while the other fully open. He had a smile on his face which grew to a smirk upon laying eyes on the violet eyed skeleton. But his most notable feature was a bright red soul that was displayed for the world to see. Ccino hadn’t realized he was staring, he only noticed when the other raised a brow in amusement. He placed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie before making his way to Ccino’s direction. The barista gulped, unsure if he’d somehow offended the eyeless skeleton.

“Heya sweetheart, mind preparing us a couple of drinks?” The eyeless skeleton smiled as he placed his elbow on the table while resting his head in his hand.

“O-of course! What w-would you like?” The other responded trying his hardest to stay calm. His soul pounding violently against his chest as his nerves threatened to overtake him.

“I’d like an mochaccino with an extra shot of espresso” he turned to face the violet skeleton. “What do you want, boss?”

“Just get me a black coffee.” Ccino tensed for a brief second. That voice... it sounded way to familiar. As quick as the thought entered his head, Ccino was just as quick to dismiss it. He was working, he didn’t have time to think about non-work related things right now. However, the violet skeleton made eye contact with Ccino. In that brief moment, his stern features wavered for a fragment of a second, that the barista questioned if he imagined it.

The skeleton on the countertop chuckled and turned to face Ccino once more. “Alright, there you have it. One mochaccino with an extra shot of expresso and one black coffee.” The barista nodded and rang up his total. Ccino had told the skeleton he was more than welcome to sit and wait, but the other refused stating that “The view is better from here.” A wave of heat rose to his cheeks. He couldn’t tell if this skeleton was flirting with him, but it sure felt like it. The problem is... he was quite attractive... and charming too. Curse his amorous heart and falling for those who would never return his feelings. Especially for a certain black goopy skeleton.

At some point when Ccino was preparing the drinks the eyeless skeleton had to step out for a minute. The barista had forgotten to ask for a name to call out once the order was ready. He opted to just take the drinks to the violet skeleton’s table. It would probably be better than yelling across the shop trying to get his attention.

“Uhm... I’m sorry. I forgot to ask for a name, but here are your drinks.” Ccino gently set the drinks on the table and carefully ensured not to spill the hot beverages. “C-careful.. it’s really hot.”

Being in such close proximity Ccino noticed a few things he hadn’t before. It appeared that this violet eyed skeleton only had a single functioning eyelight. The other socket was a pitch black, with various cracks surrounding it. Actually, his hands and several visible bones appeared to be fractured. What could’ve happened to such a beautiful skeleton to have so many injuries throughout his body? It wasn’t a question he dared ask. It had to be something personal, and frankly none of Ccino’s business or concern. The violet skeleton nodded to Ccino’s warning but didn’t say a word.

The day passed like any other. Uneventful, and yet again the goopy skeleton had failed to visit. How long had it been since their last reunion? Months? Perhaps even years by now? He knew that Nightmare had used him. He was evil, a manipulator, ruthless, and unforgiving. But, he wasn’t a liar. From their very first encounter he was honest about the basis of their relationship. Ccino was good source to replenish his negativity, and in turn he wouldn’t harm him or his au. At least not in any physical way. The barista new he was being used, knew that the other didn’t see him as anything else but as a charging port. And yet, his silly little heart grew fond of the other’s presence. Perhaps it was because Nightmare was the first person he spent continuous time with. He became illusioned that for as long as he was alive he would have a companion of sorts.

Yet, one day he stopped showing. Sure Nightmare had the tendency to go weeks or months without visiting. However, this time it had been longer than usual. Ccino waited and waited until he slowly began losing hope. Perhaps, the other found a more suitable companion? Maybe realized the Ccino wasn’t worth being around? Decided it was no longer worth his effort to visit his pathetic AU just to see him? Tears burned the lining of his sockets. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. No, now isn’t the time for this. He still had to close up his shop- Ccino paused. Wait, those two why are they still here? He was referring to the eyeless and violet skeleton of course.

Strange, well they were newcomers and most likely didn’t know the shop hours. The barista removed his apron and gently placed it on the countertop, before making his way towards the two strange skeletons. “E-Excuse me.. I’m so glad you decided to support my shop today. But, uhm, it’s time for me to close for the day. You’re more than welcome to come back again tomorrow. I-If you’d like to of course.”

The two didn’t answer. It appeared as if they were contemplating what their response should be. A sinking feeling began to form in Ccino’s non-existent stomach. Were they going to rob him? He didn’t have much to offer just the money in the register! He could defend himself if needed but- he was outnumbered. Maybe he could manage to escape and call for help-

“Actually, we were hoping to talk to you in private.” The eyeless skeleton stated, his soul wavering for a brief second before shifting to an upside down heart. It was so beautiful and captivating. That Ccino had to resist the urge to be lost in its marvelous glow.

“P-pardon? You w-want to talk to me? About what exactly?” The barista was rather confused. He’d never seen these two in his entire life! How did they know about him? Were they maybe some of those ‘special’ people that Nightmare talked about? How they could travel to different universes? But what would they want with him?

“Well, being honest he,” the eyeless skeleton pointed to his companion. “Was hoping to have a conversation with you.”

The skeleton in mention tensed and averted his gaze from Ccino’s. It was clearer now that he was up close. The violet skeleton exhibited signs of slight anguish and remorse in his delicate facial features. But they were quickly concealed once again. No sign of pain, guilt, anxiety, or any other emotion were visible in the single eyelight.

The violet skeleton sighed before returning Ccino’s gaze. “Ccino.. it’s been a while hasn’t it? How have you been these past months.. perhaps even a year or years now? Hard to keep track of time in the void” The barista froze upon hearing his name slip past the violet skeletons mouth. How did he know his name? Did he introduce himself earlier? No, he didn’t think so... maybe his apron? No. He took that off. Then.... how? “You appear to be surprised. Well.. that is to be expected I suppose. How would you ever recognize me without my black attire.”

Ccino drew in a quick breathe. His body already having processed who exactly this skeleton was. Hot tears filled the lining of his sockets and spilled down his cheeks. His body trembled as his mind finally realized his identity. “N-Nightmare...?”

Nightmare tilted his head in acknowledgement. Smiling as if he were praising Ccino. “I’m impressed.. but you were always smarter than you looked.” A pause. Nightmare once again averted his eyes, a flicker of doubt flashed in that violet orb of his. “I didn’t come here to waste your time. So I’ll cut to the chase. As you can see, many things have changed since we last met. Clearly I’ve changed... and more than physically.... But.... I’ve done terrible- unforgivable things and I’m not some naive fool expecting mercy or to be saved. Yet, I do believe that you.. at the very least deserve an apology.”

Nightmare rose from his chair his eye never breaking contact with Ccino’s. “I sincerely apologize for my actions, and for using you to my own benefit. As I said, I’m not looking for forgiveness. I’m far beyond that. Don’t worry, you’ll never see my face again and you may live your life as you please. You are no longer shackled to me... you are free.... and this is my final goodbye.” The violet skeleton turned to face his partner. “Let’s go, Killer. We have overstayed our visit.”

Ccino couldn’t believe what he just heard. Was nightmare apologizing to him? Did that actually just happen? The once feared and powerful being in the multiverse had just apologized to him. I guess there really was a first time for everything. He blinked a few times resulting in fresh tears to stream down his face. Wait.. goodbye? Did that mean.. as in forever? No... No! No! No! No, he couldnt! He just got back! He just came back and now he’s leaving again? Now that was just cruel... how cruel and yet Ccino still couldn’t bring himself to hate Nightmare. His presence only succeeded in confirming what Ccino already knew. That he was in love with Nightmare.

Killer jumped to his feet and placed his hands in his hoodie. “Awe, you sure you want to leave so soon, boss? I don’t know, I’m sure there’s plenty to do here. Besides, how could you leave that cutie behind-“

“NIGHTMARE!” Ccino called out his voice cracking from the his sobs he continuously failed to hold back. Nightmare turned around to face the skeleton when- SLAP! The noise of Ccino’s hand making contact with Nightmare’s cheek echoed in the near empty shop. Nightmare and Killer were frozen on the spot. Killer wasn’t sure how to react. He was caught off guard and didn’t see it coming. He was half expecting Nightmare to crumble on the spot from his various fractures.

“T-that’s for everything that you’ve done to me! For using me! For leaving! For having the nerve t-to come back, apologize, and only to leave again! Y-you just want me to pretend like none of this ever happened don’t you!? To forget about you!!! Well guess what!? Screw you!” Ccino furiously rubbed his eyes trying wipe the tears away but to no avail. All his bottled emotions had erupted to the surface and there was no way to seal them away again. “How dare you?! Who d-do you think you are?! To just waltz in and out like you please!”

Nightmare turned to face the crying skeleton. He was more than confused. He was certain that Ccino would have been delighted to know he had been liberated from the chains of negativity. Free from him. He hurt him so many times, used him for his own personal gain, and never cared for his well being. So, why was he so upset now that he offered him freedom? He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted when the small barista wrapped his arms around the violet skeleton.

“P-please... please stay! Please don’t leave me!” Ccino wailed as he clung to the skeleton before him. He dug his phalanges into Nightmare’s top refusing to let go, because if he didn’t hold on tight.... surely he’d disappear again. “I-I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to forget! Please! Please! Please! I’m begging.... Don’t a-abandon me.... n-not again.....” The white eyed skeleton trembled as he pleaded for Nightmare to stay. He knew it was hopeless he was begging for the impossible. All his cries and efforts for him to stay would be in vain. But, what else could he do? He had to try because maybe, just maybe the outcome may be different.

Nightmare was frozen, hands stuck in midair as he heard Ccino’s heartbroken cries. Ccino didn’t want him to leave...? Why? Why would he want him to stay? The very being that tormented him for his own amusement? Nightmare was at a loss. What should he do? Ignore the crying skeleton and leave once more? Or should he stay? Either way he wouldn’t be able to permanently stay in this AU. He’s made many enemies who would stop at nothing, until they saw him and those around him perish. He knew this, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave right now. How could he just leave this fragile skeleton? Ccino always made things more difficult then they should be. It would’ve so much easier if he resented him and despised him. He should’ve screamed for him to leave- to never come back. But no, he was begging him to stay.

Something warm and wet trickled down Nightmare’s cheek. Panic settled in for a brief moment. Was he bleeding? How? He didn’t have any injuries! He quickly touched the liquid with his phalanges and was confused to see a clear substance with a tint of violet. It wasn’t marrow/ blood. Then he realized the liquid came from his sockets... was he crying? His eyes widen slightly. He was. Post his corruption he hardly ever shed any tears. Just once with his twin brother when that forsaken curse had finally been broken. The emotions he thought he’d locked deep in his mind had resurfaced with immense intensity.

Nightmare’s body moved on its own accord enveloping the weeping skeleton into his arms. He gripped his sweater tightly trying to ground himself, fearing he’d lose himself in his own overwhelming emotions. The two skeletons wept in silence as the eyeless one watched with a solemn expression. His soul flickered and wavered as he attempted to suppress his feelings. It was painful. Watching the one he cared for hurt, knowing he wasn’t the cause but another, and seeing for the first time another skeleton suffer because of their feelings for the violet skeleton. It was.. heart wrenching.

The two skeletons cried for hours until they could no longer produce tears. The smallest skeleton ridden with exhaustion lost that battle against his heavy eyelids. He rested his head against Nightmare’s shoulders, feeling a sense a protection and safety in his firm arms. “Don’t.... go.....” the barista pleaded one last time before succumbing to fatigue and drifting to sleep.

Nightmare held the small skeleton firmly in his arms. He glanced at Killer, who had faint black tear streaks on his cheeks. Then back to Ccino who, still in his sleep, clung to him desperately. For the first time, he was at a loss on what his next course of action should be.

Wooooo! What a way to start fluffynight killer week don’t you think? I know it ends on an angsty note but I thought it was fitting! This has actually been one of my few favorite stories to write! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

This story was inspired by some incredible headcanons and by Zu’s comic lodestar! Wouldn’t have been inspired to write this story if it weren’t for them <3

Killer belongs to @rahafwabas/ @rahofy-sketch

Nightmare belongs to @jokublog

Ccino belongs to @black-nyanko

Fluffynightkiller week by @help-im-a-gay-fish

#my writing #scheduled #fluffynightkiller #fluffynightkiller week 2021 #fluffynightkiller week #day 1 #there’s a first time for everything #I really tried to incorporate a ‘first time’ for the three skeletons #it was a little hard but i think i got it #it’s a possibility that I may make a continuation of this!#but we’ll see #(Also side note you have no idea how much I struggled to copy and paste the writing here #(literally shouldn’t have been that hard lol XD #*updated* made some mistakes but I corrected it I hope :’D

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samwilsonshandsandass · 3 years

Text

In The Coffee Shop

Summary: You work in a coffee shop and preparing the special of the month starts something you’d never thought would happen at your work place.

Pairing: Sharon Carter x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Dubcon (sex pollen), smut, oral sex (m and f receiving, m and f giving), fingering, anal

Word count: 4.6K

A/N: This is my entry for @tinymalscoffee 400 follower writing challenge. Congrats on that milestone and thank you for hosting this challenge! I chose the prompts sex pollen and coffee shop AU. The graphics I used are by the amazing @firefly-graphics

It was, surprisingly, a slow morning in the coffee shop. Well, maybe not that surprising. There had been a warning for an extreme weather phenomenon and judging by the lack of customers in suits, several of the big employers had for once decided to not force their employees to come into work during this. You could already see the dark clouds forming on the sky.

The bell above the door rang and in came a red head with shorter hair. You didn’t look up from the flat white you were preparing and put some chocolate powder on it when your colleague yelled to you to get started on a double espresso. The flat white was done and snatched up by someone who visibly thought himself a hotshot, and even more visibly, wasn’t. Probably why he was out, to show his unwavering dedication to the company…

Then came the red head into your line of view directly. She was beautiful. And your hands trembled when you pushed the cup over the counter to her.

“Here’s your coffee, ma’am. Enjoy” You were surprised you were able to keep your voice steady.

“Thanks. Sugar is…?” Her voice was beautiful.

“To your right, ma’am.”

She smiled. “Do I look that old?”

“N-no, miss” You felt yourself get hot in the face.

“Don’t worry, just pulling your leg.”

You smiled at each other. Her smile made her even more beautiful. She nodded once more to you and then went to find a seat in the farthest nook of the shop. Your shift went on like usual after that.

Some days later, you had the afternoon shift. Your favorite. There were mostly students chatting about their lectures and during ordering, they were the nicest of customers and even chatting with you and the other baristas about their own side jobs, often in other cafés like yours.

This time you were on the register. Because of the influx of customers, you didn’t register the black-haired man and the blond one next to him until they stood directly in front of you.

“What can I get you, sirs? Our feature of the month is the flat white and the blueberry muffin.”

“I’ll have a latte macchiato and one of those blueberry muffins. Sound delicious.” The black-haired man grinned at you.

“And for you, sir?”

“Just a black coffee, thanks.” The blond one smiled.

“Right away, just wait for it over there.” You pointed to the end of the counter.

“Thanks” The black-haired one smiled. “So, Steve about that idea for Veterans Day…”

A week later, right at noon, a blonde woman and a brown-haired man came in. You were just finishing up an americano when they came over to you and you caught a snippet of their conversation: “… but knives-“ Said the blonde woman.

You had expected normal talks about work or whatnot. But not about knives, and apparently that had shown on your face.

“Don’t you scare the lady that’s granting you tea, Sharon!” The man said and smiled at you.

You smiled back as you gave them their tea and coffee and they smiled back. Like customers and employees smiled at each other.

Days later, when you were on table cleaning duty, your eyes swept over the customers’ heads. There was that cute couple that had had their first date here. You had no idea what number date they were on, but they were clearly progressing. The redhead putting her hand on the hand of the other woman after she put down the cookie she just broke in half.

The next table already had drunk their orders and the crumbs on the one plate in front of the brown-haired man signaled them being finished.

“Can I clear away?” You asked.

The brown-haired man and the redhead woman nodded.

“Thanks.”

There was even more traffic than usual in the morning today. Some conference was happening near you. And it wasn’t the fun kind for comics or books or games or a combination or all three with people in cosplay and sometimes, literally, screaming about who they saw and who was gonna be where and what they wanted to do and fandom discussions you got way to invested in for the fact that you were working. No, it was some business conference. It meant even more suits and even more snatched drinks without so much as a glance. It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it still did.

On one table though, there were two blondes and a black-haired man next to them. When you yelled out their orders, the blonde woman came up and took them with a genuine but tired “Thanks.” It was the first thanks you had heard that day by a customer.

When you went to do your cleaning rounds and came to their table the black-haired man and the blonde woman seemed to be dozing. The other blond smiled to himself. You took the cups and remembered how they all had wanted a double-caffeine shot.

“Thank you very much, ma’am” The blond man said.

You looked up at him, aghast. Thanking customers were one thing. They made your day. But this? This much manners? Calling you ‘ma’am’? Wow.

“O- of course. You’re welcome.”

You came out of the back room and had to grip the doorframe to hold yourself up. Your head was swimming.

“Hey! … okay?” You heard a voice in front of you.

You clenched your eyes and opened them again.

“Hey. You okay?” The blonde woman came into focus.

“I feel … weird…” You mumbled.

“I’ll take a look” The blond man said and went to the back room. A few minutes later, he came back, carrying a tray with a coffee grinder and half of the beans already ground.

“Did you just work on this?”

“Yeah… it’s… it’s our … special feature … the coffee with … with our special… home-ground beans…” Speaking was hard, you slurred, but somehow you managed while the blonde woman stroked your back.

“And you prepared them for tomorrow?” The redhead asked.

You nodded.

“Right, there was an ad about the new monthly feature” The brown-haired man mused.

You nodded again.

The blond man bent over the tray and took a whiff.

“Steve, no!” The black-haired man shouted.

“That’s been a losing battle for decades now, Sam” The brown-haired man sounded almost resigned.

“It smells a little weird.”

“I don’t smell anything” The redhead said. “But if you sense something, it must be there. Probably not strong enough for her to pick up.” She nodded to you.

The brown-haired man stood up from where he sat and went into the back room. He came back shortly after and pinched his nose in what seemed disbelief. “I think I know what it is. And all of us already inhaled it.”

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” The blonde woman spoke up.

“There were rumors about a substance that could be both used in liquids and in air to heighten sexual arousal. At the moment I don’t yet know who exactly produced it or why they need this and I also don’t know who ‘they’ are but the rumors I could listen to years ago when they were slow with wiping me, apparently led to something.”

“So, ‘they’ isn’t Hydra?” That was the redhead.

The guy shook his head.

“So, what happens now?” The blond man, Steve, asked.

“Most likely, all of us will go more or less crazy unless we…” Bucky scratched his neck and trailed off.

“Getting ourselves of by ourselves isn’t an option?” Sam wanted to know. “The whole thing would be weird if it was just people we knew from work, but she” He pointed to you. “doesn’t know us, we don’t know her and besides introducing ourselves, there won’t be much getting to know each other.”

“I know your orders, but that’s about it. I can’t even tell if you have a routine for which you need caffeine, because you all came in at different times and all the time” You mumbled with a tight-lipped smile.

“They say something about ourselves, right?” The man who was called Steve.

You nodded and looked at the blonde woman. “You have someone British in your family.”

Now Steve. “You want something simple. Maybe you don’t care for all the special things coffee shops have, but maybe, you’re also overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice.”

The one called Sam was next. “You want something sweet but unlike others, you don’t want it contrasted with a drink on the bitter side of the spectrum. You want something toned down. You don’t need another stark contrast.”

“You” You looked at the redhead- “want something strong and sweet. Always. It’s both a pick me up and something to calm down but stay energized.”

“And you, ordering a black coffee but with caramel and peppermint syrup. There are people who order one of the two syrups in their coffee. Maybe caramel and hazelnut together. Peppermint on its own. But caramel and peppermint? That’s very unusual.” That was the last one of the group.

As much as they looked stunned, you looked proudly at them.

“How do you know I have someone British in my family?” The blonde woman seemed a little lost for words.

“Tea in this shop is either ordered by people who wanna seem fancy but not too fancy to hinder their career or by people who have an emotional response to tea. That’s why we sell almost no tea when there’s a conference, even to those suit-wearing people from around here who normally order one.”

“But how?” The one called Sam wondered.

“Barista.”

“If you know all that just by our drink orders and we’ll probably have sex with each other tonight, we should probably know each other’s names, right?” Steve said.

You nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Steve and this are Sharon, Natasha, Sam and Bucky.”

You shook their hands and looked them in the eyes when their names were called and they smiled at you. You shook hands with people you barely, if at all, knew and who you were going to have sex with in probably a few minutes.

“Is there somewhere where it wouldn’t be that uncomfortable?” Natasha asked.

You nodded and led them to the very back of the shop, right where Natasha had once drunk her double espresso.

“The first time I came in here, you made the coffee and I went to this nook. You make a mean double espresso.”

“How do you remember that one coffee?”

“Because the first time it wasn’t you who made it, it didn’t taste as good.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You smiled; the barista part of your ego needed that and getting that compliment from someone like her, was an added bonus.

“May I?” Sam asked and untied the apron, now working on your shirt and you nodded.

Your clothes went one by one, slowly and when you were just in your underwear, you saw the others had taken off their clothing as well, except Sam of course.

You looked at Sam and when he smiled at you, you took off his clothes, first the sweater, then the pants.

Someone took your hand and you looked to your right to see Sharon pulling you with her on the couch. She put her hands on your cheeks and slowly kissed you. Her lips moved with yours and left you breathless when she let you go.

You felt someone on the other side of you who rubbed your waist. Turning your head, you saw Steve who looked encouragingly at you. He kissed the junction of your shoulder and neck. You could feel his chest pressing to your back and leant into him.

Suddenly there was something cold on your left leg and you flinched away, only to be stopped by soft hands.

“Sorry” Bucky mumbled and when you looked down you saw him massaging your leg with his hands, one flesh, one metal and you couldn’t help but think of how his metal hand would feel between your folds.

On your right leg were Natasha’s hands, massaging, kneading higher and higher until you felt her between your folds. She rose up until you could feel the tip of her tongue when you heard Steve say: “Nat, wait a second.”

You tore your eyes away from Natasha and saw Steve push a pillow under Natasha’s knees. She turned her head to give him a quick smile of thanks and then licked a stripe on the junction between your vulva and your right leg and then on the other side. Her hands had left your leg to hold you down at your hips and not too soon, because as her tongue was on your vulva longer than a second and she moved around, licking up and down your lips, your body bucked into her mouth on its own.

Sam moved behind Sharon, pressing himself into her, pushing her on you and both of you a little more into Steve. He somehow got his hands under your butt, letting his fingers dance over it, rubbing all the spots that you didn’t even know would make you moan. And then, he removed one of his hands. You just heard a wet pop and felt Steve’s forefinger at your hole.

“Okay?”

You tried to nod but in that moment Natasha inserted two of her fingers in your channel, and already, you could hear your wetness. So, instead of a nod, a moan escaped your lips and that was the non-verbal “Yes” Steve needed and he pushed his finger in.

Your mouth, still open from your moan, fell open even more and Sam traced it with his thumb. You moved your head forward a bit and closed your lips around it and sucked. You wrapped your right hand around Sam’s wrist to keep his hand where it was and linked your left hand with Sharon’s. You could feel her thighs next to yours on the couch moving. You looked at her. She had her eyes closed, whimpering into your neck.

“Y/N, hold her hip” Sam ordered.

You moved your hand from his wrist to her hip and Sam held her other hip. He moved forward and Sharon whined when Sam sank into her.

“Good?” You asked her.

She smiled lazily at you and nodded. You rubbed her neck and with each thrust of Sam, he squished her and your chests together. You angled your head a little to easier to kiss Sharon. You traced her lips with yours, she traced yours with hers when you pulled back for a second. She caressed your cheekbones with her thumbs and only when you opened your lips a bit further, did she use her tongue. She poked yours playfully, you poked back and could hear her giggle that traveled straight to your core. You entangled her in a light dance until you both had to breathe.

You leaned against each other, foreheads touching. You felt Sam moving his arm but couldn’t see where it went. You just noticed Sharon jolting and looked down to see him rubbing her clit.

“Baby, open up” Sam purred and pulled down your bottom lip with the thumb of his other hand.

You parted your lips immediately.

A second later, Natasha pulled her fingers from you and held them up in front of your face. She scissored them a bit and you could see your wetness between them.

“Sam?”

“Oh, yeah” He chuckled and removed his thumb from your mouth to a whine from you but that turned into a moan when Nat pushed her fingers into your mouth. You moved your tongue around, tasting yourself on her and maybe, just maybe, putting on a little show for her.

Steve kissed your shoulder blades, your neck, your collar bones while he moved his finger in you.

“Ready for the next one?”

This time you could nod, and you did.

“Alright” You could hear the smile in Steve’s voice.

He inserted his middle finger alongside his forefinger slowly and gently. He waited until he felt you relax and suck on Natasha’s fingers again. Just enjoying the feeling of being full and you felt your pussy clenching around nothing.

Now, you felt Bucky moving up a little. He looked up at you through his lashes. He massaged your tummy, going in circles until his hands gripped you were Natasha had had her hands. Bucky dove in, kitten licking your pussy and Nat’s soft hair was one thing between your thighs and definitely something you’d enjoy later when you were alone, even if it was just a memory, but Bucky’s shorter hair combined with his stubble was something else.

You couldn’t help but put your legs over his shoulders and link your ankles.

“Good… so good…” You moaned. Natasha had pulled her fingers back by now and kneaded yours and Sharon’s breasts.

“Yeah? What exactly feels good, baby?” Sam purred as he thrust into Sharon.

“Nat’s… Natasha’s fingers… and Steve’s as well” You could feel Steve’s grin on your shoulder blade and his fingers thrusting a bit deeper. “And-“ Bucky’s tongue entered you, going back and forth, in and out and you clenched around him.

When he pulled back for a moment with a grin, he said: “You were saying?”

You swallowed thickly and summoned your will to answer him. “Your beard! It feels so good on my thighs, never had one between them before…” You moaned again.

“Then I’m honored to be your first” He winked and dove back in.

He continued right where he left of. His tongue fucked up into you, his hands pulled you down onto him and soon your hips were basically riding his face. After a very pointed movement of his tongue, perfectly timed with Bucky squeezing your hips while pulling you down again, made you come undone. Your pussy spasmed around him, your mouth opened and your eyes closed.

You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t move anything but when you came down back to earth, you could still feel your pussy spasming. Apparently, you had gripped Bucky’s hair at some point and carded your fingers through it and scratched his scalp to ground yourself. But that plan backfired. Your scratching of his scalp made him purr. Understandably because having your scalp scratched was nice but after such an orgasm it was too much for you and you whimpered.

Bucky moved his metal hand to cup your pussy and the pressure of the plates without much structure plus the coldness soothed you and you sighed.

You felt several hands stroking you, calming you down and Sharon and Natasha kissing you.

“All good?” Steve wanted to know from behind you.

You nodded and turned your head to kiss him, moving your tongue against his.

They all pulled back a bit, Natasha and Bucky sitting back on their heels, Sam pulled Sharon from you and leant back and Steve removed his fingers and while you still felt Steve’s chest at your back and Sharon’s thighs next to yours but other than that, nothing.

You whined at the loss of contact and of the confusion until Steve lifted you up by your waist.

“Spread your legs, love” He commanded softly, and you did. As he lowered you down, you could almost feel his thighs under yours and the tip of his cock at your spread butthole.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Steady, okay?”

You followed Steve’s advice and you felt him slowly inch in. He stopped every few seconds, letting you adjust to it all until you felt his hips digging into your butt.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and slowly leaned back, until he laid flat on the couch with you on top of him. He rubbed your arms

Bucky climbed between your and Steve’s legs, holding his dick and looked to you for confirmation. You made grabby hands and he chuckled.

“Needy.”

Bucky bent over you and looked you in the eyes. And he continued to hold your gaze as he entered you. You couldn’t have looked away if you wanted to.

“Wet. So warm and wet” His eyes were screwed shut and he leaned his forehead on your collarbone.

Natasha moved to your head and you moved so your head was on Steve’s shoulder. You put your hands on Nat’s hips and pulled her down until her clit met your lips and she hissed on contact, while facing away from Bucky. She slowly began to ride your face and you moved your tongue a bit to touch her.

Seeing Natasha in this position, you below her, your mouth on her clit, her using you for your pleasure and her stiff nipples and her breasts moving made you wish for two mouths. You wanted to taste her but at the same time, you wanted to suck and bite her nipples until they were swollen and she’d push you away because it felt too good.

Bucky and Steve held you close, sandwiched between them, their arms around you and each other and when they started to move, they moved in unison. They made you feel almost completely empty and then full again and Bucky rubbed your clit with his left middle finger and forefinger.

That was the moment Sam softly took your left hand from under Bucky’s and Steve’s arms. Sam wrapped it around him and started moving it up and down. When you looked to your left, you saw Sam, but you also saw Sharon looking straight at you as she quickly rode Sam’s thigh. She smiled and reached out to stroke your forearm.

You were so glad Sam helped you, because on your own, you wouldn’t have been able to do something. The stimulation of Bucky’s slow and deep strokes that hit all the points in you, Steve grinding and keeping you close, Sharon’s touches a contrast but at the same time not to it all, the heat of them around you, Natasha on your face and moaning. It was all too much.

Natasha rode your face rhythmically, you licked and sucked on her until the rhythm she had built stuttered, her moan broke off and her legs twitched. You could see her bending forward to rest on her forearms.

Sam moved your hand along him, he squeezed your hand around him, lessening it a bit when he came to the tip and twisting your hand around it.

You moved your right hand from under Bucky’s arm and put it on Natasha’s hip to stabilize her. She moaned at the contact and the moan morphed into a whimper when you switched from using your tongue to nipping and sucking on her with your lips.

At the same time Steve gripped your hips and used what leverage he had to chase his release and soon you could feel him cumming with a groan. After the last spurt, he pressed you to him.

The slightly new angle seemed to trigger something in Bucky. He started rutting arrhythmically in you. With each thrust, he bent over you a little more until he effectively blanketed you with his body. Bucky softly rubbed and pinched your clit and you clenched around him. He stopped moving and you heard his growl as he started cumming in you.

And then you felt like you were floating up and away from the earth.

For a short time, nothing.

And then you felt like you were floating back down to earth.

You could feel your pussy still spasming, although now around nothing, and you could hear voices. You couldn’t discern who said what.

“Hey. Hey! … Oh shit, I think that was too much.”

“Too much of what exactly?”

“Of everything.”

“That wasn’t me, was it? The weight of my body?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Hey, Y/N. Hey. Come back to us.”

“Mmmhmmmm”

“Oh, good, you’re back. Thought we’d lost you there for a second.”

“You probably did, but I’m back now.”

You were maneuvered to lean against the back of the couch and just breathed in and out a few times. When you calmed down and got your beating heart a little more under control, your eyes fell to Sam’s cock, which still stood at attention.

“May I?” You asked and looked at him, at his cock and back at his face.

Sam just nodded and that was enough to lick long stripes up and down, only sucking on his tip for a second before you went back to the base of him and massaged his balls until you could feel him twitch. You waited until the last second to put your mouth on just his tip and sucked.

You continued sucking on Sam, letting him buck up his hips and swirled the tip of your tongue around the slit until he couldn’t take it anymore. Sam came and spurted in your mouth until he literally tore your mouth off his dick. You swallowed and grinned at him like a Cheshire cat.

You turned to Sharon, and this time, you pulled her on the couch. You pushed her back until she laid on her back. You moved down her breasts and tummy with little kisses and bites. You ignored her whimpers when you neglected where she visibly wanted you the most in favor of her thighs. You altered between nips, kisses and bites that would leave a memory for a few days, until you reached the junction between her legs.

You pursed your lips and only moved them over her. When your mouth was back at her entrance, you flattened your tongue and licked up until you swirled your tongue around Sharon’s clit. First in bigger circles that went smaller and smaller up to the point where you sucked her clit in your mouth. You continued sucking on her with alternating pressure until you could feel her twitch and buck her hips into your mouth.

Each time Sharon bucked into you, you made it a point to get closer to her, until she couldn’t take it anymore and came. She whimpered, she wailed, you could see several hands stroking her body, soothing her and you felt her thighs shake next to your head. After some time, her thighs stilled and you gently uncrossed her legs and took them off your shoulders. You licked your lips and grinned at her.

“Good?”

Sharon only nodded with a smile.

One day after this one-of-a-kind night, Natasha came back in the morning and left with a little black container under her arm and a double espresso to-go.

One or two weeks later, you had the day shift and were solely on coffee making duty. Your coworker had just told you the next order and it was a big one all at once.

“Latte macchiato, one blueberry muffin, black coffee, double espresso, black coffee with peppermint and caramel and a black tea!” You yelled out.

Someone came up to you and you recognized Sam.

“Good to see you” He winked with a smile.

“Not like I work here” You retorted with a smile of your own.

“Buck! Help me carry all these things!”

Bucky came up and looked at you. “Hey. Nice seeing you.”

“Surprisingly, I work at the place that I also call ‘my workplace’” You deadpanned.

Bucky let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, should have expected that.”

They both took half of the order in their hands and went to walk to the table where the others were sat. Although you couldn’t see the entire table, you knew exactly who sat at it, just from the orders.

Sam turned his upper body to you again. “When do you get off work?”

“In an hour. Why?”

“Wait for us here?”

“Who is ‘we’?”

Sam only winked and he and Bucky went to their table.

275 notes · View notes

yan-purgatory · 3 years

Text

yandere! ateez: you’re talking to another man

request: Yandere mafia ateez reaction to seeing you with another man and being too touchy with them?

admin: ღ

warning: contains graphic content. reader discretion is advised.

Hongjoong:

(Y/N) was sighing and swirling the remnants of red wine in their glass, enjoying their peace and quiet that came with the rare moment of solitude, when they felt someone slide beside them in the booth.

“You shouldn’t be in here. This is for VIPs only.” They warned the person quietly, worried of the consequences that could come with what this man was attempting.

“I’m so out of your league I can’t even buy you a drink?” The man pressed, slinging a hand around (Y/N)’s neck and trying to catch the eye of a waitress.

“This is for your sake. Please get out of here, before he sees anything.” The man scoffed at their warning, the alcohol in his system trumping all fear.

His pride wasn’t to last long, as a hand snagged his collar and threw him to the ground before a foot pressed into his chest and several guns were held to his face.

“I need to have a talk to Mr Choi. Clearly he’s incomopetent at keeping my possessions safe.” The man of the hour, Hongjoong, seated himself next to (Y/N) who felt a shiver of fear run down their spine upon his arrival.

He pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s head before turning his attention back to the offender.

“Get rid of him. But do it out of our sight. I don’t want him near my (Y/N) for another second, understood?”

Seonghwa:

“Oh, I should get going.” (Y/N) had guts of steel, to say the least. To have an affair, behind the back of an obsessive mafia leader no less and with one of his men.

“You can’t stay any longer?” Hoseok’s arms hooked around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling them back down onto the bed as they struggled to get dressed.

“Please. I can’t risk anythi-” There was a pounding of footsteps outside the door, before a strong force knocked into it and a group of men burst in.

(Y/N) heart fell to their stomach seeing the guns pointed towards Hoseok before their attention was stolen by Seonghwa striding into the room.

“You’ve wounded me, my darling. No worries, we’ll fix this.” He pressed their face into his chest before raising his hand, silently giving the order. (Y/N) let out a scream of fear as they headr the gunshots and cry of pain.

“You don’t think I love you enough, right? That’s why you did this?” Seonghwa whispered into their ear. “Let me prove you wrong, darling.”

Yunho:

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Tears were in (Y/N)’s eyes as the bandage applied to their finger was removed, letting the papercut bleed again. “You don’t talk to anyone else, no matter what.”

“But it was hurting, and you said that you trust Mingi-”

“You always come to me first.” Yunho interrupted them. “You know I don’t like it when you talk to other men, and I don’t care who it is.”

His grip was tightening, causing (Y/N) to wince at the pressure. Yunho ignored their pain, too red with anger. In fact, he pulled out his pocket knife with a grimace and held it up to their arm.

(Y/N) tried to struggle, but his grip was cast iron.

“You’re gonna be more hurt than before, baby. And I’ll be the one to pick up the pieces, okay?”

Yeosang:

Yeosang was waiting for them outside the lecture theatre, as always. Tapping his foot, his patience clearly having been worn thin.

It was when the clock hit quarter past four that (Y/N) finally emerged with their notes tucked under their arm.

“What took you so long?” He asked, his tone endearing but with a sharp edge.

“I’m sorry, I really need some guidance on this topic and professor Park is the expert on the topic.” (Y/N) sighed, taking his hand in their own. Yeosang didn’t smile as he usually did when (Y/N) initiated contact. His mind was plagued with the jealousy rising up - this was the third time this week they’d been late because they needed to talk with their professor.

“You seem to be struggling with this course, my love. Maybe you should drop out?” (Y/N) visibly tensed up.

“I-I-I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“You know that I’ll take care of you. Why do you need a job, when you have me?”

(Y/N) looked hesitant, but seeing the intense look in Yeosang’s eyes they knew he was not in the mood to argue, and slowly they nodded.

It was a very thankful situation that (Y/N) accepted his suggestion. His other solution to his jealousy would be much more savoury.

San:

An array of pictures were splayed out on San’s desk. Each one showing (Y/N) heinous crime of communicating with their cousin.

“You know I don’t like sharing, baby. I thought I told you not to do this.” He growled.

“I’m sorry.” San smiled, pulling them down to sit on his lap.

“I can forgive you, baby. Here.” He pressed a lighter into (Y/N)’s hand whilst pushing all the photos into his wastebin. His message was clear enough for them.

They flicked the lighter to life and held it to the photographs, watching as the film warped and crumpled.

San’s grin only grew as he peppered kisses over (Y/N)’s neck.

“That’s it, baby. And you know what will happen if I see this happen again?” They nodded, fingers still gripping the lighter so tightly that the plastic was starting to crack.

“I’ll slaughter him like a pig. I’ll set him alight and you’ll have to watch him burn to death. And it’ll be all your fault. So you won’t talk to him anymore, right?

Mingi:

There was silence in the small cafe, as everyone took in the scene. The barista, a bullet lodged in his head and blood leaking out from the wound. And Mingi, standing over the poor man with the smoking pistol still in his hand.

“Do you have their order?” His attention was diverted to the other barista, who had a coffee cup clutched in her hands that were trembling so badly the liquid was starting to spill onto her hands.

“Y-y-yes sir.” She placed it down into front of the shell-shocked (Y/N). They’d known that Mingi has savoury reactions to them talking to other men, but this was a whole other level.

“Good. We’re leaving.” Mingi snatched (Y/N)’s hand up in a huff. “I hope this coffee was worth more than that vermin’s life to you.”

He turned to address the rest of the witnesses.

“If anyone squeals, you’ll be next.”

Wooyoung:

“A beautiful angel like yourself shouldn’t be all alone in such a scary place.” A deep voice shocked (Y/N) out of their daze. Wooyoung had gone off to speak with one of his partners in private, unintentionally leaving (Y/N) all alone.

“Oh! I’m with Jung Woo Young.”

The stranger frowned, stepping closer and taking ahold of their face to admire it.

“And how did he secure such a treasure?”

“I’d appreciate it if you stepped away from my spouse, Mr Kim.” Wooyoung had returned and instantly attached himself to (Y/N)’s side. “Unless you want to be dragged away, that is.”

His eyes flickered to (Y/N).

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long, but I was thinking about you for every second of it.”

Wooyoung pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s hungrily, his gaze sliding over to stare down the other man triumphantly as he deepened it.

As soon as he broke away, he moved to whisper in (Y/N)’s ear.

“I’m not leaving your side again for even a second, baby. No one else can claim what is mine, right?”

Jongho:

(Y/N) rarely got to see family, not with Jongho breathing down their neck nearly every day of the week. Luckily, he was occupied for the day and (Y/N) had seemingly escaped the watchful gaze of his right hand man, enabling them to visit their brother for the first time in months.

All they did was take a walk in the nearby park, chatting about how life was going although (Y/N) tactfully chose to leave Jongho out of all conversations. Finally they gave their brother a hug as they said goodbye, the first time they’d done that with a man who wasn’t Jongho for goodness knows how long.

They decided to take a detour before returning home, hoping that if they had been caught sneaking out by Jongho they would have a valid excuse of buying some chocolate. But it wasn’t enough.

(Y/N) returned home, only to find the door unlocked. They let out a breath, rehearsing their lines in their head. ‘I just wanted a snack, I’m sorry.’

They found him in the kitchen. Stood above the brother they’d seen only an hour ago, tied to a chair and missing a few of his fingers.

“You thought you could pull the wool over my eyes?” Jongho growled. “You know damn well what happens to anyone who touches you without my permission.”

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foenixs · 3 years

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*crack knuckles* i’m in mx mood, thanks a lot fiona, can i please get a reaction where y’all in public and just chilling and then 👀 you touch them out of nowhere 👀 hmmm, let’s say in a restaurant and while you two waiting for food, he’s talking about his days and you just,,,, touch him. ☺️ i wanna see them boys gets flustered when you casually touch em in public skdhdjsms FOR ALL THE BOYS PLS *grabby hands* THANK YOU 💖 -cheating 🕺🏻

Monsta X reaction to You Touching Them in Public

note: sorry this took so long to upload^^ you even got renamed in the meantime but here ya go

includes- sub!Monsta x x dom!reader (Minhyuk's part if for a female reader, the rest is gender neutral), public play

if you like my fics please reblog them with a nice comment or tag

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

Shownu

You sneak up behind him, letting your hand slip under his shirt and rest on his chest as you bend down to leave a kiss on his cheek. He jumps to the side, your cold hands surprising him, diverting his attention from the mobile game he was playing.

Letting out a laugh you turn his chin with your pointer finger, laying a deep kiss on his lips. He wants to pull away, knowing that you two could get caught at any moment, but he couldn’t. Your lips tasted like cotton candy and your breath fanned against his cheeks like a warm summer breeze.

You let one hand dance around his nipple, lightly twisting it between two fingers as your other hand glides down to his crotch. Massaging his bulge, he groans into the kiss, one hand cupping your cheek to deepen the embrace.

“Uhhh- hyung?”, Shownu jumps up in fright, his red face turning to look at Changkyun, who was standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

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

Wonho

Your hand lays still on his thigh under the dinner table as you stroke a conversation with Shownu. It was a simple touch of claim, but it drove him crazy beyond belief. He was twisting in his seat, sweating, his hand coming to rest on top of yours to calm himself down.

When Shownu bends his head down to eat, you throw a questioning glance over to your boyfriend. He could read the judgement in your eyes and smirk and he knew it was hopeless to fight his desire.

“I drank too much water, I’m gonna go to the toilet”, he declared, getting up from his seat.

He knew you couldn’t stand when he escaped your grasp, but his boner grew harder to hide and he’d rather take your punishment over the embarrassment of cumming in front of his friends.

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

Minhyuk

imagine you're changkyun

It was a game between you two, seeing who could embarrass the other more in public. You’d pull his pants up so his bulge would get accentuated and he’d do the same to your shirt.

You were waiting for the perfect opportunity as he stood in line in front of you to order a coffee at Starbucks. Right as he steps towards the counter you squeeze the fabric of his jeans, but instead of laughing like he usually does he falls dead quiet, forgetting how to talk as the barista loudly clears her throat.

You step up next to him, ordering for the both of you, noticing the deep shade of red that his cheeks were tainted in as you give him a questioning side eye. Your gaze falls down upon his pants and you notice the growing reason for his embarrassment. His bulge was more prominent than usual, the outline of his hard cock being more than visible in his tight pants.

Quickly picking up your order you drag him out of the store, both of you having learned a valuable lesson.

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

Kihyun

It was really his fault, he had been teasing you all day, from licking his lips to grazing your butt with his hand. He did everything to get you to snap and you had enough of his silly games.

Hugging him from behind while he was waiting backstage for a performance you place on hand right around his neck, choking him as you breathe into his ear. He gulps down, trying to escape your grasp as he doesn’t want anyone to notice what you were doing, but you tight grip keeps him close.

“Don’t ever tease me in public again or I will fuck you so hard you’ll pass out.”

You could feel him shivering under your grasp, the warning turning him on more than he’d like to admit. Pulling away you chuckle as he tries to readjust his pants.

Your words lingered in his head and he had to mentally slap himself to stay focused on the lyrics as he was performing with a boner in front of thousands of people.

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

Hyungwon

He couldn’t stop goofing around, making everyone think he was high, as your hand rubbed him over his jeans. Though he was trying to deflect the attention from what you were doing to him, his unusually loud demeanour had the exact opposite effect.

Everyone was staring at him, making him melt into the seat further as your motions grew blunter and faster with every minute. He had to use all of his strength not to moan out your name.

Feeding him with your free hand you find a way to shut his mouth so the other members would go back to talking amongst themselves.

You lean against his shoulder, nestling your nose in his hair so the members couldn’t see you whispering in his ear.

“Why so nervous Wonnie? I’m barely getting started.”

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

Jooheon

He was drowning in your attention, eating it up like it was his last meal. Every touch of you made him feel loved and gave him a sense of belonging. No matter here you were, he needed to have your hands on him, holding his hand, stroking his thigh, brushing through his hair.

If you ignored him for too long he’d take your hand and move it to his lap, showing you how much you affected him. He twists his head, throwing you a pout as you massaged his bulge just a little too slowly.

Worries about getting caught? Never. He loves it when you make him cum right in front of his members.

He’s so easy to break, so easy to control. Every little touch drives him insane and makes him crave more as he melts into you.

“Please, touch me more, I’ll behave and not make a sound, I promise.”

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

Changkyun

Two people could play the game he started. He was rubbing over his neck all day, reminding you of the activities of last night. The hickeys that were barely covered by his shirt were exposed to your sight as he tucks on the fabric.

You walk up to him, placing one hand against his chest as you push him into a wall, leaning in to whisper against his lips. Your right hand moves down his body to grab his cock firmly, having him groan out and sink down into your palm.

“You love being a tease, don’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question, but he smirks anyway.

“Oh baby, you might be confident now, but you have no idea what I’ll do to you as soon as we get home. This time you won’t be able to cover up the marks that I will place so generously on your body.”

masterlist

taglist: @euphoricsunflowers, @vanillaknj, @mingiibabieee, @sub-hoshi-enthusiast, @soya-zz, @coeurbreak, @mellowriting, @submissive-bangtan

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