#Sharing a chat like the old man they are for has passed and the winds of change bring in new tides

[qkmlh]

Old man yaoi but it’s specifically whatever’s going on between Zeff & Garp the entire time at the Baratie

#The inherit honoeroticism of attempting to distract the marine vice admiral with the thing he loves very much so you can make sure your #adopted son and the captain and crew he joined can put more distance between y’all #and said vice admiral eagerly accepting the distraction for what it is and still enjoying himself #Sharing a chat like the old man they are for has passed and the winds of change bring in new tides #Anyways my good folks that was a Seduction attempt if I ever saw one god bless old man yaoi #Red Leg Zeff #Monkey D. Garp #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #One Piece #Ani Rambles

[yuquinzel]

SIX WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU — itoshi sae.

ಣ₊˚. contents — (4.2k) wc, f!reader, pure fluff, reluctant friends to lovers??, mutual pinning, roommates!au

ಣ₊˚. synopsis — itoshi sae has known you for six summers, and he's told you he's loved you in six different ways.

i. ( like the fleeting warmth of sunsets in winter. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ i don't hate you. ❞

the first time you meet itoshi sae, you're fifteen and he's sixteen and you're almost certain no one in his life has ever told him to shut up. you can't stand him, he's rude and all too full of himself, and he rebuffs all your attempts at being friends. you take it as your hint to not be involved with him at all.

which would've worked if you weren't classmates and neighbors. sometimes you end up at his house more often than you'd like —courtesy of your mothers being old college roommates— and you try offering your fair shares of polite greetings of “oh, hello” and good morning or good night texts.

he either leaves you on delivered —seen 6hrs ago if you're lucky— or he prefers to stare at you like you've said the dumbest thing known to man, a curt nod is his way of acknowledging your presence but not bothering to reply back.

it's a sappy cliché. parents beings friends so naturally you and sae must spend a lot of time together except it's anything but that and you're sure he hates you. you're not a big fan of his casual glares either. you come to accept that the two of you are nothing but strangers with threads of chance meetings tangled unfavorably in your lives.

sae sits three desks away from you in the next row and yet he feels a world away from your reach. sometimes your eyes meet in the hallway and you've long since given up on smiling or waving, so that's where it ends.

you eventually become friends with rin, he's a year younger but much more tolerable than his older brother. sure, he's stoic and awkward but at least he doesn't look like he wants to kill you every second. rin walks you home every day, because you're friends. sae tags along, because his mother insists on being nice to you.

six months pass in the blink of an eye, the chilly wisps of winter beginning to gnaw away at your skin. you're sixteen now, and your relationship with sae is as rocky as always. rin's not walking with you today, so it's just you and him. there's not much talking between you and sae. you don't acknowledge his presence, maybe he prefers it that way. you call a friend instead— because as sae has come to notice, you're not a fan of long (awkward) silences— chatting away about adjusting to a new life and a seatmate that's been bothering you who just won't take the hint.

sae scoffs, and you pause.

it's been a long, tiring day and the absolute look of disdain on his face hits the last nerve, “is there a problem?”

“no,” he says flatly.

sae walks ahead without so much as sparing you a glance. he's about ten paces ahead when he turns back, “you coming or what?”

“i'm sorry if me talking is such a bother. but i'm not talking to you. why're you even here? you and i both know you'd rather be anywhere else. i know you hate me and all, but you don't have to act like you're doing me a favor. because you're not.” you spit, it's harsh and biting like the cold gusts of wind caressing your hair. heat begins to settle in your cheeks— in anger or in response to the cold against your skin, sae isn't sure.

silence creeps up in the heavy atmosphere, you think he'll disregard you as always. then, “is he bothering you too much? what, does he stalk you or something?” straightforward as always, you're not sure if sae's mocking you or feigning concern.

“why do you care? because your mom asked you to?” you cross your arms.

sae clicks his tongue, “that's not what i asked.”

he knows you're stubborn. he knows you don't have the kind of relationship with each other where you come to talk about your problems and offer solutions, so he's not surprised when you brush him off, “it's none of your business.”

you walk past him, the distance between you two feeling larger and heavier than ever. “i don't hate you.” but not enough that you don't hear him.

the next day your seatmate is bowing his head in hastened apologies and stumbling over his own words, frantically avoiding your gaze, “i'm sorry, y/n! i swear i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable! i didn't stalk you or anything, i should've taken the hint! please forgive me, I'm sorry!”

you're taken aback by his trembling hands and staggered voice, the sudden modesty of apologizing.

sae doesn't walk with you that day. rin does and you ask him if he said something to your seatmate. “what seatmate?” he'd replied. you remember you didn't tell him anything about anyone bothering you.

you didn't tell anyone besides your friend who lives all the way back in Hokkaido—

— and sae.

ii. ( like the first spark of festival firecrackers. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ call me by my first name.❞

the festival spirit is exuberant per usual. the night-time adorned with food stalls coupled with fumes of spices and sizzling meet, children running through tents, and the blossoms of juvenile love confessions filling the air with the laughter and cheering of people attempting at festival games— it's enchanting, catching you in a trance.

you'd somehow convinced sae to join you, “we'll just go and watch the fireworks show. you'll have fun, i can guarantee that much.”

sae turns seventeen before you, his life falling into a rhythm of soccer practice (as much as he can), classes (mandatory, unfortunately), back home and exercise (lots of it), then watching the clips of the matches of every opposing team (he loses track of time). 

the stone of walking home with you everyday is thrown somewhere in there, with the ripples in its wake stretching comfortably in his life. it's no longer at the instance of his mother. out of habit or choice, you wait for him everyday until his practice is over and sae doesn't mind it too much. he never really did, it might just be something he looks forward to. (you don't need to know that.) he'll say a lot has changed— he's not sure if you can be called a friend but somewhere along the way, awkward silences turned into comfortable breaths of matching paces as you walk, eyes meeting by chance outside of class and sae doesn't mind being the one to wave first, he turns on his notifications just so he can reply to you in time albeit dryly, you've learned to not take it personally.

it did take efforts from both of you— sae being just a little more careful with his words around you, a little more patient. his responses are quick and sharp as ever, but not dismissive anymore. when you talk to him, it doesn't feel like a one-way conversation. he's figured he likes listening to you talk more than initiating any conversation. and you've learned that while sae will rarely be the one to break the silence, he most definitely hates it as much as you do.

one step at a time— matching paces to walk together, waiting for the other one to catch up, that's how you and sae work.

so when he'd initially refused to your suggestion, he's quickly learned that you're a lot more persistent and criminally good at convincing him than he'd like. this is how he now finds himself with you, laid out on a hill in the north of tokyo prefecture, empty boxes of food lying beside and the wistful blues of post-sunset before the two of you.

“see, sometimes its not bad to enjoy the good things in life, itoshi.” you hum, lightly pulling at the grass beneath you.

“i do enjoy the good things in life. soccer is good.”

“yeah, yeah. but taking a break like this is pretty fun, isn't it? don't be shy, admit it already.” you joke, and sae doesn't reply. when you turn to look at him, he's already staring at you.

“what is it?” you ask, reeling back a little. it's a little unnerving, being the centre of sae's attention. it makes you feel small— for reasons you can't name. but it also makes you feel a little special, that's just one of the many things about sae you dont think you'll ever understand.

he draws just a little closer, the air shifting with him, “you still call me itoshi.”

“what?”

sae doesn't inch back, if anything, he's looking at you like he can't tear his eyes away, “nothing. you just don't call rin by our last name."

oh. that.

“uhm, so do you want me to?” you ask, a little hesitantly.

“i don't mind if you call me by my first name, y/n.” there's a certain lilt to the way he says your name, as if he's emphasizing on first name basis. he's always used your first name, and you've always noticed it sounds different wiith him.

he says it like it always rests there at the tip of his tongue, like an unspoken word finally leaving his lips. he says it like it's the answer to everything, like it's so natural that it's you— there's yes and there's no, and then there's your name.

you feel the heaviness of his gaze as if in anticipation, waiting to hear you say it. so after a moment of reticence, “okay, sae, first name basis it is.”

if you didn't know better, you'd say he looks... satisfied. something wavers in his eyes and he looks away, you find yourself missing the way his gaze lingers on yours.

later that night you'd lay in your bed, events of earlier playing in your mind in a loop.

sae.

his name rolls off your tongue as you bring a finger to trace your lips. you repeat it to yourself over and over and over again until it leaves a sweet, luscious aftertaste. it simmers in your voice and sounds like a lullaby. a melody of his name sung like secret whispers, one that calms you and eventually puts you to sleep. you think you like how it sounds, much like how your own does in his voice.

iii. ( like a lovedrunk gaze finding yours at 2 am. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ i don't mind if it's you.❞

you. sae. roommates.

the idea is laughable. downright idiotic. fifteen year old you would've bet a snowball's chance in hell that you and sae could ever be roommates. plenty of reasons for this to be impossible. one, for example— sae and you attend different universities. two— sure, you've gotten closer as friends but sae isn't exactly roommate material. well, he did mention he'd never even shared a room with rin so you can guess he's never had much experience either.

you'd suggested it as a joke, thrown it among the laughs and snarky comments in the games of uno you'd been winning for the past hour, “if i let you win the next match, will you let me move in with you?”

he'd scoffed at you, throwing a draw 4 card with a smirk because you're down to one card, “you lose.”

“you can't end the game with a wild card, smartass."

“sure can. players make the rules, and i just won." he says flatly.

“that is not what we agreed—”

“i win.”

“you're just making that up, sae, take it back this is gonna be my tenth win.”

“but i don't have any other card, what did you say about moving in?”

you pause at that, you didn't think he'd pay attention, “i was joking, you know I'm looking for a place near college.” you say as you pick up the deck of cards, shuffling them again to deal because arguing with sae is like arguing with a wall that sends death glares your way, you don't entertain that idea very much.

sae ponders your words, wonders if you mean it or not. he briefly imagines it, being roommates with you. then the words leave his mouth before he can think about it, “it's not a bad idea.”

you halt in your movements, letting silence take form. he almost regrets saying anything because what if you were just joking? what if you'd wanted him to brush it off as a joke too? did he overstep?— until he sees you gaping at him like an idiot. then he relaxes, and you think you hear him snicker, prompting you to come back to your senses. had you heard him right?

“it's not?”

sae shrugs, a little more confident in his words this time, “it's not. you know my place is near your college. you're tolerable, i don't mind having a roommate if it's you.”

he doesn't mind having a roommate if it's you. he doesn't mind spending a significant amount of his time in the same house, under the same roof with someone even though it goes exactly against the very reason he got a place for himself— if, and only if, that someone is you.

you'd be lying if you said that didn't just boost your ego and swelled your heart a little.

you try to bite back a smile, but fail anyway, “you're serious? when'd you get so generous?”

he doesn't say anything, offers you his signature scoff instead. well, if he knew what to say, he probably would. sae doesn't know why he suggested it. he's sure he would've said no before anyone else could throw the question. but then again— you're giggling and making fun of him and doing a little victory dance in your spot every time you win. it's 2 am, he remembers. and he's sitting in the living room of his apartment playing uno with you when he's not even sure he understood the rules.

he doesn't mind this too much. he thinks he can handle losing every match every night— if it's with you.

“you don't expect me to clean and cook for you right?” you joke, and sae takes a look at his card, and you catch the way his eyes flash with disappointment —he knows he's gonna lose this time for sure— “again, not a bad idea.”

“i mean if you pay me enough, i might—”

“that's not how that works.” he sets down a blue 5.

“that's exactly how it works.”

“i'm not the one looking for a place to live.” he says dryly, but you hear the amusement in his voice.

“hey sae,” your voice is close to a whisper, and sae hums. he waits for you to put down your card, or say something witty like you usually would. when you don't, he looks up at you, a pretty smile on your lips, “thank you, really.” you say before putting down a blue draw 2 card, but suddenly sae can't really focus on the game.

iv. ( like a breath of relief at the sight of home. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ because i wanted to. ❞

“sae, what the fuck?” you groan, rubbing your temples to ease the damn headache you woke up with.

“i thought i told you—” he begins, stirring something in the pan before grabbing a bowl, “—to stay in your room. everything's fine here.” he says, but nothing is fine, actually.

to put it simply— it's a fucking disaster.

you're not surprised, truly you're not. sae in the kitchen is always a disaster waiting to happen in the name of accidents and “i was just trying to warm the leftovers.” the sink is filled piles upon piles of dishes and something is burning in the pan to which sae isn't really paying attention to.

“have breakfast if you're here, you look like shit.” he says casually, as if there's not smoke slowly filling the air.

“i feel like shit too, but what are you trying to do?”

“making breakfast, obviously. well, yours is ready, you can take the scrambled eggs over there.” he beckons to the plate set on the table, and it's the only thing anywhere close to normal and edible.

“but it's my turn, you're on dishwasher duty.”

sae spares you glance— more like he shoots you a look of are you stupid? and did you seriously just say that, then clicks his tongue as he goes back to making whatever it is you don't dare question.

“didn't you have a headache?” he says at last.

“that was last night sae, i mean it still hurts like a bitch but not as bad as before. and anyway you didn't know that, so why?”

“because i wanted to. now pipe down, you talk too much.” he brushes off your words.

and you realise he's not gonna say it out loud. he's not gonna actually verbalise it like “you had a headache last night and i was worried you'd still be feeling like crap so i just thought I'd make you breakfast— even though i might burn down the kitchen in the process”, he'll instead say, “well? I'm not gonna hand feed you.”

and thats okay, you've long since learned to read between the lines and connect the slip-ups of his words. sae isn't one to swallow his own words, he says it like it is, for what it means. but there are times some meanings lie in his actions, not his unspoken words.

so you say nothing more, having heard him loud and clear. you sit down, eyeing your breakfast carefully. then, very calmly, “sae, this has eggshells in it.”

his head whips faster than an owl turning to you, “the fuck? shit—”, he takes the plate from your hands, “wait just a minute, this'll be done in seconds.” he beckons to the fried rice in the pan, the one you're sure was burning minutes ago.

“that's your breakfast sae—”

“’m fine, I'll have cereals.”

“you... hate cereals though?”

“do me a favor and shut up.”

you laugh at that, a sweet and warm laugh, “seriously, what are you doing sae? the kitchen's a disaster and I'm sure whatever you're making is not edible. you don't have to do this, i can have cereal too.”

he pauses at that, turns to you instead. he finds you smiling at him, and his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “you stayed up late last night with all those damn projects, i just thought breakfast would be nice.”

“thank you, that's really sweet of you. but you know what would be really nice? we have cereals, then we watch reruns of friends, and after that we can just laze around the whole day, get nothing done. you and me, it's the weekend.”

sae looks at you— really looks at you. the worry lines blurred on your forehead, the spilled darkening highlighting below your eyes, the tired haze in your voice, the warm but exhausted smile you wear.

he thinks you're beautiful, with your morning hair and still a bit of sleep in your eyes— you're beautiful and he cant find it in him to look away.

“okay,” he breathes— a sigh of relief and warmth and gratitude.

“okay,” you repeat.

v. ( like the union of heavens and the earth. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❝ you don't know what you do to me.❞

sae's not sure how he ended up like this.

the first semester of second year in university has started, the wind carries the smell of wet earth after the first showers of spring, a touch of the scent of lemongrass lingers in the air— and you're stumbling on your feet with your already slurred words and bubbling laughter sputtering through the air.

he's amused really, because you're sober enough to at least remember who he is but tipsy enough to push forward with your insistence on reminding him how pretty he looks.

“saeee, i missed youuuu,” you whine, head falling back against his arm as it goes around to rest on your shoulder.

“you saw me 4 hours ago, and we live together.” he says, watching the way you frown at his words.

“but i still missed you, you should've been with me.” you purse your lips, the way you do when you try to hide your smiles.

“yeah, i think i should've, you're a mess.”

“and you're so pretty,” you slur, bringing your fingers to brush over the smooth skin of his cheeks, “your eyelashes are prettier than mine.”

sae holds you by your arm, a firm and protective grip. he walks patiently, making sure you don't trip on air, “is that so?” he chuckles, betting on the possibility that you'll likely not remember this.

“were you always this pretty, sae or am i too drunk?” you giggle, stumbling forward into his arms.

sae holds you still, “you're drunk, idiot.” they say people are honest when drunk, so surely you mean what you said? god, he's glad you can barely keep your eyes open because he can feel his ears burning.

“but you're pretty, so pretty, i could kiss you right now.”

sae thinks he feels the ground shift beneath his feet— or was it him that tripped a little? heat begins to settle in his cheeks, you've very successfully knocked the air out of his lungs with just a few words, “shut up, I'm taking you home.”

“why, you don't want to?” you tilt your head, cheeks round and wholesome and sweetly puffed.

fuck— a drunk you is very dangerous. sae makes a mental note of never underestimating your flirting skills when you're tipsy.

“you'll hate me for it later, just quiet down.”

“i won't. never, i promise.” the playful way you're grinning at him right now with warm hues favouring the color of your skin, sae frowns at that.

it's unfair, he thinks. you can't just get drunk and then call him pretty with amused eyes and playful grins, you can't just compliment him on his eyelashes and tell him how much you missed him. it's not fair you get to say you want to kiss him even though you might not remember it when he most definitely will think about it forever. he's not even sure if you mean it as a joke because he sure doesn't. and god it's really not fair how you're just standing there, breathing and smiling and holding onto him for support— and still look so goddamn beautiful. you're looking at him with glimmering eyes, waiting for him to take a step forward.

he wants to take a chance. he wants to run his fingers through your hair and guide your arms to loop around his shoulders. he wants to taste the alcohol faint on your lips and breathe your name like you belong to him.

he wants to kiss you. and to have you kiss him back.

he thinks maybe— just maybe, if he takes a step forward, you'll take one too.

so he does, “god, you don't know what you do to me.”

his lips crash with yours first, you'd hoped him to. it's warm and soft, slow and delicate, like only you know sae can be. it's long-awaited, you can feel the desperation building up under the hastened patterns sae's hands begin to trail down your arms, slithering round your waist as he pulls you close and closer. when you bring your hand to cradle the side of his jaw, sae melts into your touch. he feels his own heart ricochet like comets inside his ribcage— reducing all his thoughts to white noise. he pulls back once —to breathe, to accept, to admire— and then draws you back in. when your lips part for a final time and breaths tangle as one, you feel time freeze in that moment.

vi. ( like the first ray of sunshine through the window. )

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ i love you. ❞

“don't you fucking dare,” sae sneers, his hold on you tightening to keep you in place.

“sae come on, i have to make breakfast. do you want me to starve?” you protest, struggling to wrestle yourself out of his hold.

but sae's strong, and he's stubborn.

“breakfast can wait, i don't wanna get up yet.”

“how is it about you? i'm hungry sae.”

“and I'm tired, we don't even have breakfast this early on weekends. just lie back down, you know you want to.” sae tugs on your arm, and he's right— his arms held out look big and warm and welcoming.

“i really don't know what to do with you,” you let his arm snake around your waist once again, and pull you back under the sheets, “you're impossible.”

“and you can't resist me,” you think he looks pretty this way— the sunlight highlighting his smile as he pulls you closer, determined to not allow even an inch of space between you both.

“no, i can't resist running away from responsibilities.”

“i love you,” the words roll off his tongue before he can stop himself, it's not really intentional— it's just you and the scent of your shampoo and the flutter of your eyelashes against his cheeks, the curve of your lips on his and the warmth of your skin. it's certain and precise and so full of love— to sae, the idea of loving you comes as naturally as breathing. so it's natural the words are pulled from his throat like it's all just a part of him and spilled between morning mellows and fond chuckles.

“i love me too,” you joke, nuzzling closer into his chest.

“say it back—”

you shut him up with a kiss, “and i think i love you too.”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

i wrote this last night and then cried myself to sleep why isn't he real i want him 🥹

#❀˖° ─ hana writes. #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #sae x you #sae fluff #blue lock x y/n #itoshi sae #bllk x y/n

[klipgenie]

Good evening, nairyshi, please kindly consider this Diluc request: Donna, after seeing Diluc leave the 'With Wind Comes Glory' and tuck a ring box into the inner pocket of his coat, started to declare to anyone who would listen that Diluc finally wised up and decided to marry her. When the rumor reach Diluc's ears, it leaves the Pyro user completely perplexed as everyone and their grandmother knows he's dating you.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

i like this request!! thanks🙈

you and diluc have been together since you were both teens and he’d never trade you out for anything or anyone. You both shared embarrassing, awful, funny and horrible memories but in a relationship, ESPECIALLY a long term one, there will be hardships but love easily overcomes it.

he thought it was time to finally wed you and give you his last name and hopefully a family. It’s been years that you both called each other ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’ you never complained about not being married yet or him not proposing. He just didn’t want you to jump to conclusions or think wrong— marriage is a big commitment.

you knew donna to be the florist inside mondstadts wall, you never conversated with her. Just a quick hi or hello or a chat about flowers. You were oblivious to the fact she secretly envyed you and your existence with the man she wanted but she never voiced it to anyone and she never made it known that she felt that way about you. Have you had known how delusional she was maybe your whole house wouldn’t be decorated and lathered in her flowers she spent hours picking for her shop.

diluc was free on this day while you were busy doing what needed to be done in your shared home. Diluc has class and was raised right by his father— you don’t ask for much because you don’t wanna seem greedy or like a user but he insist to get whatever you want even if it’s the most expensive thing on the list. Even if it were his last sack of mora he would spend every last coin on you and you only. You always assure him to not go for something that’ll cost him a leg and arm when it comes to being materialistic esp when he’s buying it for you. He’s a stubborn as a bull and doesn’t listen, so who expects him not to buy the most expensive and valuable ring in all of teyvat. unbeknownst to you tho; marriage hasn’t cross your mind yet! not that you weren’t ready..just other things occupied your mind.

so when donna seen her “lover” across the path— eyeing him down: a ring box was seen shoved in his pocket. He made his way towards donnas florist shop and without a doubt: she got excited and ran inside her shop shrieking to herself for a quick minute but when she came out..diluc wasn’t there? well that’s cause he wasn’t going to her shop in the first place, he was headed home; to his lover.

poor donna thought ‘maybe he’s just nervous..soon it’ll happen! he’ll propose to me.’ well, now she had her hopes up high right along with her delusion. Without a chance she went around the small town and started off telling friends of hers that diluc had finally manned up to propose to her, then the townspeople and her customers. Word got around quickly as it traveled pass the walls and eventually into Springvale.

a few days pass and you come out your shared home as venture the town and look at the shops to see what they are selling. While your walking in town, you get stares, But i mean..you are known for dating one of the richest people in teyvat. You continue to walk but then realize the stares aren’t looks of admiration but more like pitiful, disappointed and concerned stares. Something happened or you did something. Brushing it off you continue to shop and walk around taking in the sound of the busy roads blended together with chatter.

an old woman approached you and began to conversate with you “sweetie, did you here about what they are saying with diluc? such a shame, i heard he was already with a young lady.” this struck curiosity but you didn’t want to find out from anyone else, you wanted to hear from diluc or kaeya..they’d now more than an old lady you thought.

dismissing yourself from the conversation, you glided through the people in the streets to get to his tavern. You weren’t mad but you wanted to know what was being said that was ‘such a shame’. To your surprise he’s not there, no one is— it’s closed. turning your back to the tavern to walk in the direction of your home, you were stopped by one of the tavern workers who you knew. “y/n! i-is it true?” you give him a confused looked “what’s true? what are you talking about?” the change of expression on the man’s face could say alot

“rumors going around that donna and diluc are getting married” oh.

oh! you haven’t got the words to say to this man so you walk away. putting 2 and 2 together..that’s why everyone was looking at you like that earlier. Opening the door to your house with diluc— he welcomes you with open arms but you just slip right through them and drag yourself away from him. “dear?-“

“why are there rumored going around about you and donna..? and a marriage?” you say followed by a sigh of disbelief and worriness

“love.” diluc voiced before he came to embrace you “i don’t know why they are saying that. I knew the rumors would get to you soon and i was just as shocked as you when you heard it for the first time. But know that i would never throw our years of love down the drain for someone else.” his words struck you like a feather spear and healed the wound of worry you had in your heart. “so, why? what made her say that?” you ask with no left over worry in your voice..just concern and curiosity. “i’ve no clue, but you don’t have to worry about it.” you look at him with a smile before he comes and embraces you, reassuring you.

#genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc headcanons #diluc x y/n #diluc drabbles #diluc fluff

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Let me introduce you to my friends…

I dunno I felt poetic

Let me introduce you to my friends…

There’s the wind, who whispers secrets to me as I pass him uphill. He loves to chat, he sings to me and I duet. He can be cold, and pushy, and want to direct you in any way he chooses, but he loves to dance and always knows how to cheer me up.

I have other friends, the rain and water. Calm and sweet, gentle as a lullaby. They love to dream. I love to dance with the rain, jump and laugh and run into their arms. The water offers me a looking glass, and we play together in shallow pools. Sometimes they can get fierce and aggressive. The water played too rough with me once, and the rain brought the lightning to a fight. But afterwards they always apologize.

Then there’s the trees, my favourite friends. They often give me gifts, such as twigs and branches and leaves and blossoms. They are such good listeners, and they keep me safe and comforted in their embrace. I love my trees, because they are the audience for my stories. They never judge, never interrupt, and never grow too old. My trees used to carry me high into the sky, and we’d sit and gab for hours. Now I cannot fit into their branches, so we stroll together in the wood.

I also have friends in the bugs, of course. Tiny stinkbugs that love to sleep on the ceilings when it is too cold or too hot outside. They are quite silly. And the ladybirds, gentle souls who never trouble me. The spiders are interesting tenants, though… the wolf spiders seem to never get our eviction notices. But the orb weavers keep our yards decorated during the late summer and early autumn. Quite remarkable artists, they are… and of course the caterpillars and butterflies. Ridiculous people, charming but eccentric. And the snails, my precious darlings with their lovely homes. I often find them after they have moved out, and the house is empty.

The sky is a lovely friend, too. I love her watercolour set, she paints so extravagantly. And at night she brings her own friends to see me.

I adore the moon. We share a name, her and I! Her looking glass reflects the sun, another grand friend of ours. I love to see what dress the moon wears, how she has changed during the day and what she will wear tomorrow. I’ve heard she has a man, but I’ve never seen him for myself. I have seen her rabbit, though.

The stars are sweet acquaintances as well. I do not know all their names and home addresses, but I know the Dipper siblings, older and younger. We chat when we can. They have bright and winning smiles.

And lastly, I have some rather odd friends; I hope you won’t judge them too much. They are ridiculous and rude at times, but they typically mean well. They can be boisterous. More often than not they don't appreciate what they don't see or hear or understand. They like to pick on my bugs. They complain about the rain's visits. They tear down my trees and twist their arms. They spit in the wind. Some of them are good... but they don’t always notice my friends… sometimes they ridicule us. They tend to not believe in magic, so they cannot hear my friends. They are not all bad… but they make the mistake of growing up and forgetting.

Humans, they call themselves. We get along all right.

#phoebepheebsphibs feeling poetic #phoebepheebsphibs pheeling phoetic #phoebepheebsphibs #i was feeling poetic #poem #my friends #i am the lorax i speak for the trees #fae core #fae #fae coded #fantasy #magic #magical #im not a fan of humans #the wind #the rain #the trees #the bugs #the sun moon and stars

[omi-boshi]

ever since i learned that kiyoomi canonically likes dogs, my brain has been on overdrive. so, here's another blurb to feed into my brainrot.

omi always has treats on him so he could feed the dogs he passes by on the streets. he could be on his daily run and he'll still have a tiny bag of treats in his running waist pack.

if he can, he'll literally stop walking to give pets to the dogs he meets but if not, he always makes sure to wave at them.

omi's very sociable with dogs but that doesn't translate well into human interactions so when he's at the park and he sees a dog he wants to pet, he stares at the dog until the owner eventually notices the 6'3 well-built man seemingly glowering from the distance and hesitantly offers him to pet their dog.

junior high omi who began working as a dog sitter and dog walker when the elderly couple in the house beside his couldn't walk their sweet rottie on enough walks anymore because of their old age.

omi who started volunteering in dog shelters after that and transitioned into periodically donating large sums of money instead when he went pro and his schedule got too busy.

omi who lets the big old family dog bulldoze him to the floor and plop on top of him whenever he visits home. he hugs the dog to his chest and often jokingly thinks to himself, "what a good way to go out."

omi who brings the old dog around when he's doing errands and the general public just see this intimidating man with a perpetual scowl baby carrying the dog when it gets too scared to ride the escalator.

college omi who had to move out and live in the dorms but only stayed for literally a week at most when he learned they didn't allow dogs there. he pouts to his mom about this and she just shakes her head, giggling out a "you're just like your father" before eventually helping him find an apartment that does allow dog. (he adopts an old pittie immediately after)

(a tiny blind goldie pup joins them a few months later)

omi is nowhere near unpopular in college (i mean how can he be when he looks like *gestures wildly at him* that) so he gets invited out a lot to hangout and for the most part, he relents and goes but on the days where his dogs get clingy with him, he doesn't hesitate to cancel plans with a single "my dog needs me. next time." text. they always think he's making up excuses but unbeknownst to them, omi is trapped to the bed by two pups sleeping on top of him.

young omi who cried when the pups from their family dog had to be given away. he cuddled them to sleep the night before they were leaving.

omi whose aura doesn't deter dogs from jumping up on him and the poor owners have to scramble to apologize and pull the dog away because of the fear they'll get cussed out. omi always leaves them in awe when he chuckles softly and says it's alright and sneaks a treat to their dog.

omi isn't big on messaging the msby group chat, preferring to mute them. but he does send captionless photos of his dogs randomly. the first time it happens, they're all so shocked. meian asks "did you mean to send that, sakusa?" and omi only replies with a photo of himself with his dogs napping on his chest and a short "yes." suffice to say, everyone now looks forward to omi's messages.

omi's love for dogs doesn't go unnoticed by the fanbase and this prompts them to tag him on social media with videos and photos of their own dogs. they soon learn that it's a very effective way of getting his attention because he always tries to like all of them. it's his favorite thing to do when he catches a break while travelling for an away game.

when interviewers catch wind of this, omi shares that when he retires he hopes to start taking in dying and old dogs who were left in the pound or dog shelter just so they could experience a loving home before they die.

so touched by omi's words, their fanbase started doing fundraising activities. when he finds out about this he absolutely does not shed a few tears. he often donates to these fundraisers as well on top of his own personal donations to animal shelters.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa headcanons #sakusa comfort #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu!! #msby sakusa #san's omi brainrot #i just.....love that i got to have this #thank u furudate for giving this to me #omi and dogs.......... shaking cryign #haikyuu headcanons #msby black jackals #posted a rough draft on twitter #if u saw it and know my twt no u didn't #can u just imagine a grumpy tall olympic athlete waving to a dog on the street.... i'd turn into mush #san's blobs

[smilesrobotlover]

Ok no one actually asked for this but I really want to share the first part. I hope that it’ll help me with the other parts idk. The main emphasis is on Wind and Four (mostly Wind.) TW for kidnapping mention and kidnapping

The small group of heroes trekked through the dense forest, snapping twigs they stepped on, moving the branches that hung in their way, and chatting to pass the time. It’s been a while since they’ve seen monsters, so they were getting very bored of the lack of action. It took hours for them to spot anything that wasn’t part of the forest, but they all sighed with relief when they spotted something not forestry and very man-made: a bustling town. People rushed around trying to complete their errands before the sun went down, kids played their ball games, and shopkeepers were getting plenty of business. It was a big town with buildings lined up neatly, making little alleyways. Tucked away near the edge of the town was a beautiful courtyard with a fountain spewing out in the center and several birds bathing in the water. It was a charming, lively place, but the group sensed that something was amiss.

They started asking around if anyone has seen monsters, if they know about the hero of the legends, and so on… but this seemingly carefree place did not know of such things. The old man figured that since there were no monsters to hunt down, they’d relax and then move on with their journey. The group spent their time getting food, looking for supplies, and looking at the fun trinkets at the various shops scattered around town. A large portion of them checked out the bizarre toys on display in one particular shop. The shop owner was a man with light blonde hair, he had a long nose and his small, dark eyes watched the group suspiciously.

“Why is that doll so creepy looking?” Warriors shuddered at the sight of a doll with only eyes and a vague nose, with wisps of hair on its head.

The boys immediately turned to the creepy doll and grew interested in it. Four had the courage to grab it.

“Woah woah, what are you doing?” Warriors asked, backing away with his hands up.

“I’m just looking, I think it’s rather handsome,” he said, holding the doll close to him.

“Well put it back. It might be cursed or something.”

Four stared at the doll silently, and with a mischievous grin, he got closer to Warriors holding the creepy doll up.

“Smith- don’t you dare- get thing away from me!”

Four began chasing the captain around the shop, causing a bit of a mess, while the others looked at more toys. Twilight observed a metallic figure, built with various metals. It looked like it resembled a horse.

“That’s pretty sharp… and unsafe,” he pointed out, poking at it cautiously.

“I think it’s fun! Great for kids! Right Wind?” Wild said sarcastically, receiving a glare from the sailor. The sailor went back to staring at a wall of animal plushies. There were horses, dogs, cats, seagulls, and whales. The seagull caught his eye.

“You guys think I should get this for my sister?” He asked, turning around and holding it up for the others to see. “She loves seagulls, and seagulls love her.”

The others crowded around him, speaking their opinions while Warriors and Four got kicked out for rough housing in the background. Wind bought the seagull plush and they all left the toy shop, ready to regroup and continue with their travels. Wind couldn’t help but love this place. It was so bright and alive. Everyone was anxious to get to places faster, occasionally running into them, people simply sat and chatted on benches or by the edge of the town, it reminded him of Windfall Island in a way. Wind looked around as they met in the center of the courtyard by the fountain, which was surprisingly empty compared to the rest of the town. It added to the uneasiness that Wind felt underneath the bright lives these people led. While they waited, The little group messed around in the water, splashing it at each other, with Sky gushing about the tiny birds. Wind caught eyes with a boy- around 10 at most- wandering around the courtyard alone. He smiled when the boy stared back at him and did a friendly wave. The boy gave a shy wave back.

“Are you boys ready to go?”

Wind looked up and saw Time, Hyrule, and Legend walking towards the other group. Hyrule was quickly shoving potions in his sack and Legend sat down, massaging his legs. The old man crossed his arms and eyed the seagull Wind held.

“Did you get yourself a friend?” He asked.

Wind blushed a little and held the seagull close to his chest. “It’s for my sister. I thought that I’d send it to her in the mail… since… you know… the mail service is surprisingly good across dimensions…”

Time let out a hearty chuckle.

“That is very sweet of you, young sailor. Did anyone else get something?”

Four sat up and crossed his arms with a huff. “I was going to buy a doll, but Warriors wouldn’t let me!”

“Ok, first of all, it was creepy, second of all, you wouldn’t stop shoving it in my face!”

The group laughed at the captain as he argued with Four.

“Alright, let’s get going the-”

Time was interrupted by a woman screaming.

“Joel! What in Din’s name are you doing here alone?”

The little boy Wind saw earlier spun around and looked at his mother with guilt.

“S-sorry I was just playing…” He stuttered, but the woman waved his excuse away and grabbed his hand.

“You know you’re not supposed to be near the fountain by yourself! You’re lucky it’s still daytime, otherwise you would’ve been taken like the other kids!”

The group watched as the woman dragged the boy away. She turned back for a moment to glare at the mysterious group of travelers, before leaving the courtyard. The group looked at each other in confusion.

“What was that about?” Sky finally said. “What did that lady mean by ‘taken like the other kids?’”

“I dunno,” Twilight stood up and looked at the fountain in concern, “I feel like we should move away from the fountain…”

The group shuffled away from the beautiful yet somehow dangerous fountain and did a group huddle.

“I guess my instinct was right,” Time started, “have you boys sensed something weird going on in this town?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule jumped in, “It’s like a normal town but… I don’t know… everyone seemed like they were on edge…”

Wind nodded as they were talking, so they noticed it too. The strange anxiety everyone seemed to struggle with in this place. What was going on?

Sky petted the little bird that flew on his shoulders and frowned. “She mentioned other kids, you think there’s some… fountain monster kidnapping them? Is that why no one is ever by the fountain?”

“It’s a good theory, but we’ll never know unless we ask these people about it,” Legend said.

“Yes, and there’s one person who can give us the most information,” Four waved his finger around, everyone understanding who they needed to talk to. “The mayor.”

—----------------------------------------------

The group of 9 took up a lot of room in the mayor’s waiting room. A poor resident stared at the strange group as discreetly as possible, trying to focus on the book he was reading. Occasionally Warriors would look over at the nervous man and give him a casual nod, making the man more nervous about them. Finally, the mayor came out of his office and was shocked at the large group taking up the space in his waiting room.

“Oh my,” he started, fixing his wrinkled clothes. He looked at a piece of parchment, “which one of you is… Link?”

Everyone in the group raised their hands and shuffled into the mayor’s office. The mayor shook his head and closed the door behind him. He was a tall, middle aged man with brown hair kept close to his head and a goatee on his chin. He wore nicer clothes than everyone else in the town, yet he fit in well. He had kind eyes, but underneath was noticeable distress.

“Well then,” the mayor started, “Link…”

The boys looked around and Sky volunteered himself. The mayor nodded at him and sat down at his desk.

“You wanted to meet with me?” He asked, pulling out a pen and paper.

“Uh, yes… We’re visiting and… well… we were curious about the fountain in the courtyard?” Sky asked.

The mayor stared at them with no expression, as if he hesitated to explain. “The fountain was one of the first things built in this town. My great-great-great grandfather saw to it that it was built and also helped build this place. The different markings were inspired by the intricate designs of the zora, it is even said that the zora helped build it. Lake Hylia feeds it water, and the kids enjoy playing in that water. It’s what makes the courtyard a lovely place.”

Sky nodded, “Yes, it is a very lovely fountain and this is a very lovely town.”

“Thank you.”

“But… if the kids love playing in the water, then why are they not allowed near it?”

The mayor looked away, tapping his pen against his desk. He finally said, “I’m afraid it is none of your concern. Why should I trust a bunch of outsiders?”

The group was taken aback at the sudden distrust and hostility from this seemingly kind man.

“Uh, sorry, sir, but we can help with whatever you need. Whatever you’re struggling with, we can help you,” Sky gestured to the group and turned back to the mayor, “we’re fighters, and we are very skilled when dealing with monsters or bad people in general. We just noticed that something was wrong, and we want to help.”

The mayor stared at Sky with narrow eyes, then his eyes traveled to the rest of the group. His expression flickered with confusion when he saw young Wind, but he didn’t say anything.

“You do look like a tough bunch…” he muttered, stroking his goatee. He tapped his desk again and let out a sigh. “Alright, I suppose… if you can help us… that would be wonderful. You see… there have been kidnappings happening near that fountain. It started with my own two children, my son and daughter. Me and my wife tucked them into bed like we always do, and we assumed that they were asleep. Except… they left their beds and went outside at night. One of the shopkeepers saw them chasing after something, I don’t know what, and she saw them run to the fountain. She went over to get them but something knocked her out, and my children… were gone…” The mayor paused, clearly distressed from the loss of his children. He took a deep breath and kept going. “A couple of nights later, a couple noticed their child walking to the fountain, they said music was playing. As soon as he was by the fountain, shadows snatched him away, and since then, everyone’s children have been disappearing. Concerned parents lock their doors and make sure that their kids do not leave… but somehow, they are lured out… it’s been happening for three weeks… we don’t know what to do about it.” The mayor took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He looked up at the group of heroes with pleading eyes. “Please, if you can save our children and stop these strange kidnappings, I will be very grateful.”

Sky nodded without hesitation and so did the others. “We’ll gladly help,” he said.

The mayor smiled a little and bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you. You all can stay at the inn if you want, we won’t charge you, consider it payment for getting our children back.”

The group nodded, and soon left the mayor's office.

“Well,” Wild started, “what do we do?”

Everyone shrugged, they were concerned with the information they received. Twilight was reminded of when the Ordon children were kidnapped, the distressed face of the mayor reminded him too much of the distressed faces of the villagers. Warriors silently watched a group of children play with a ball protectively, ready to attack in case something were to snatch them. Wind, however, was angry. Who could do such a thing to children? What was there to gain from this? He thought of the poor, helpless kids missing their parents in a cage, and he shook his head furiously.

“We have to find them!” He cried, gaining attention from the others. “We should look around by the fountain and see if there’s a hidden tunnel or something.”

“Good idea sailor,” Warriors said, and immediately walked over to the fountain. The group followed and began searching for a clue. They tried pushing the fountain in all directions, Hyrule and Wild both searched inside the water for a trap door or switch, they nudged at every detail and looked around the courtyard, hoping to find something. But they couldn’t find a hint as to where the missing children could be.

Time and Twilight left to question the townspeople, but they couldn’t give them any ideas. It was always night when the children were kidnapped, and the kidnappers were always wearing dark clothing, so it was hard to see anything when it happened. When Time and Twilight returned, the group sat at the fountain in defeat. The sun was beginning to set, and everyone was rushing to get home safely.

“There’s nothing around here,” Legend stated, “I don’t think we’re gonna find any clues in the courtyard…”

“We might have to search around town,” Hyrule said solemnly.

Wind shot up and glared at them. “We can’t do that, that’ll take too long. We have to find the kids as soon as possible!”

Time stood up and placed a hand on Wind’s shoulder. “We are just as concerned as you are. But we’re not getting anywhere with this. We’ll rest up and look around town tomorrow,” he noticed the look on Wind’s face and quickly added, “we’ll do it early in the morning.”

The group all stood up and begrudgingly began to move to the inn in defeat. They were tired and very hungry, so they didn’t protest at the idea of sleep. They needed rest if they wanted to be strong enough to save the missing children anyways. But Wind was not having it. He couldn’t just eat and rest when there were kids missing from home. Kids who were probably terrified and needing a hero to save them. Just like Aryll…

He rushed over and stopped right in front of Time. He had an idea that he’s been pondering, and he was more than willing to do it to save the kids.

“I have an idea on how to find the kids… but you won’t like it,” Wind began sharing his idea, “Children are getting kidnapped right? Well- Well I’m technically a child right? So if I let myself get taken, then I can find the missing kids and save them! That way we won’t have to waste time looking for them.”

The group stared at Wind for a while. Finally, Warriors spoke up.

“Are you sure about that?”

Wind looked at him and crossed his arms defensively. Warriors immediately threw his hands up to calm the sailor.

“Look, it’s a great idea, but we don’t know who or what is kidnapping these children. You think we should at least wait and get an idea for what’s causing these problems?”

Wind looked down and shook his head. “I’ll be fine… Besides, nobody could ever get a good look at the kidnappers.” He looked over to Time, “please, let me do this… I can save these children.”

Time stared at him for a moment, his face expressionless.

“Even if I said no, you’ll still go and follow through with your plan, yes?”

Wind’s eyes went big as if he was just caught sneaking some of Grandma’s cookies. Time smiled at his reaction and patted his back.

“I know you’ll be able to rescue these children, young one. I will let you do this.” Wind smiled wide at Time’s confidence in him, but Time raised his hand before he could say anything. “However, I am not letting you do this alone. Smith, you’re going with him.”

Four let out a small chuckle and stepped out by Wind. “I knew you were going to pick me,” he laughed. Time observed the two heroes in front of him, ready to go into the unknown to save the kids.

“Alright then, you two can leave tonight… stash your swords away so you look defenseless… and watch each other’s backs. If it’s the shadow, you’ll be in danger,” Time rested his hands on both of their little shoulders, “but I know that you’ll be ok. You’re both tough and strong fighters… I’ll give you boys 4 days to save these kids. If you don’t return, the rest of us will come and help you, alrightt?”

Wind and Four nodded. Wind was determined to save these children, no matter what.

—--------------------------------------------------

Wind and Four cautiously walked around the empty town. It was midnight, and the only souls awake were a couple of stray cats darting away at the sound of the two little heroes approaching. The town at night was the exact opposite to the town at day. Daytime was exciting, lively, while night time was dark, gloomy, and scary. They hadn’t said anything, and Wind was truthfully nervous. He didn’t know what he’d be facing. If shadow creatures were kidnapping these children, then he didn’t know how he would fight them. Were they similar to the shadow they’ve been fighting previously? Or were they similar to phantoms? Wind didn’t want to get into trouble and have the group come and rescue him, that would just be embarrassing, then they’ll never treat him like a mature hero. Sure, he wasn’t super mature. He was still only 13 years old, but he’s seen horrific things and defeated Ganondorf. They weren’t ever condescending, and they treated him like a mighty hero, but Wind was still afraid that they’d treat him more like a child if he couldn’t do this. He looked over to Four who seemed calm about everything. Wind bit his lip and scratched the back of his head.

“Uh… sorry to drag you into this,” he said, breaking the silence.

Four looked over at him and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be an adventure, right? Besides, we’re saving children, it’s the right thing to do.”

Wind smiled back at him and they traveled to the courtyard. It was a pretty spooky place at night, especially with the dangers of what lurked about. They waited for a moment, staring at the fountain, the water silently lapping against the sides.

“Maybe… if we started… playing around?” Wind suggested. Surely they wouldn’t look suspicious, right?

Four gave Wind a look and shook his head, “I’m not gonna start acting like a child.”

Wind shrugged and sat down by the fountain, resting his head in his hands. It was silent, and waiting for kidnappers was almost unbearable. Wind just wanted to get snatched so he could save the children. Four was growing ansty as well.

“Come oooooooooon… something come and kidnap uuuuuuuuus…” He muttered underneath his breath as he looked around. Wind smirked a little but continued to sit and wait. He ran his hands through the water, the cool liquid sending a shiver up his spine. The fountain was turned off, so there was just a pool of water resting in it. It made the night more silent. He continued to play in the water until he saw something bright reflect off of it. He looked over his shoulder to find something on the ground near one of the alleyways. He stood up and walked over to it. It was probably a trap…

Four eyed the shiny object curiously and followed Wind to look at it closer. The object on the ground was a green rupee, which reflected the moonlight brilliantly. Wind furrowed his eyebrows and looked at it closer. He never knew that rupees were so reflective. He looked up into the alleyway only to see two hands grab at him. He yelped as he was pulled harshly into someone’s strong arms. His first reaction was to fight back. He tried punching and slapping his captor, but quickly remembered that he needed to get taken. Ugh. Having to sit and do nothing was terrible! He stopped fighting back as his captor ran through the alleyways, the person being silent as they ran. He looked up to see Four running after him.

“Sailor!” He called out to him, trying not to get separated. He nearly caught up until something hit him hard in the head, knocking him out.

“Oh no!” Wind gasped, Four’s crumpled body in the darkness was the last thing he saw before a bag was thrown over his head, and he was carried away into the unknown.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wind #lu four #fanfic #so uh…. #this probably isn’t gonna be the final draft #I’ve over it a million times but yeah #it’s not perfect and writing isn’t my thing but #I really enjoyed working on this #at least this part #the other parts I’m suffering hekebejenk #but yeah the final final draft will be on AO3 #but this I just want to share with you #smiles writes

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

     - (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder. 

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.                                          

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well. 

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

#(un)loving miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu fic #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst fic #atsumu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! angst fic #hq #hq x reader #hq angst #hq fic #hq angst fic #inarizaki #angst #angst fic #angst fanfiction

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.9k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here 

Author’s Note: And we’re at the final chapter! Thank you so much for going on this wild ride with me, and I’m rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! 

It takes time and effort to rebuild a home wrecked by a storm, and reconstruction efforts aren’t necessarily smooth sailing, especially at the start - after all, he’s still the same Miya Atsumu, arrogant and brash and foulmouthed and hyper focused on volleyball, and they both have baggage from years of regret and pain to work through. But he has determination to spare, and she loves him too much for her own good, so they start from the very foundation and work their way up, step by step, one day at a time. 

‘I’ll kill ya if ya ever hurt her again’, Osamu threatens darkly when she and Atsumu break the news to him. 

‘Go find yer own girl and stop being sweet on my wife damn it! ’ Atsumu growls, but the kiss he presses to her forehead when she smacks the back of his head for being mean to his twin is achingly sweet. 

‘Ugh, soppy. Get yer shit outta my house!’ Osamu scrunches his face in mock disgust. 

Both brothers are surprised when she beats Atsumu at flipping Osamu off. 

Atsumu moves back home (he’s not even going to hide how happy the sound of that makes him), and they mark the occasion by slipping his wedding ring back on his finger and eating take-out pizza on the living room floor. 

Her burly brothers turn up on their doorstep with a glint in their eyes and too much teeth in their smiles, determined to drag Atsumu off for a couple of drinks and what she assumes will be a very unpleasant chat. She’d insisted on patting them down to make sure they’re not packing any knives - ‘what do you take us for, little sis’, they’d protested - but she’s not taking any chances, and begs Osamu to join them, ‘please ‘Samu, I don’t want to be a widow right after I decide not to divorce his ass’, and he agrees despite grumbling that he might as well be Atsumu’s glorified babysitter at this rate. 

She’d woken up in bed the next morning to find the space beside her empty, but the living room crammed full of those four silly men. Atsumu and Osamu share a single futon between them, snoring back to back. There are faint bruises on Atsumu’s cheekbone and telltale scrapes on her own brothers’ knuckles, but otherwise they all seem relatively unscathed. 

She bends over, tracing her thumb along the contour of Atsumu’s jaw, and he stirs, eyes half lidded with sleep. 

‘Hey darlin', I’ve come home’, he tells her, warmth flickering in his smile. 

‘Welcome home, 'Tsumu’, she says, tucking the blanket under his chin and he hums in contentment, falling back asleep. 

His nightmares of brown envelopes and harsh neon lights distorting her face slowly fade, and he dreams instead of weeknight dinners and weekend picnics at the park, relishing the quiet domesticity of grocery trips and laundry loads, and delighting in home games with her and Shino cheering him on.

Some piss poor excuse of a gossip hound corners him after a match to ask him about whether he regrets leaving for Milan since his season ended in injury - and he freezes when the reporter slyly adds ‘especially since we all knew it’s a move that required you to leave your wife and daughter behind ‘. His manager is about to intervene when she sneaks up on him to slide an arm around his waist, apologising to the reporter that ‘she’s just so excited to give her husband a congratulatory kiss!’ . 

Sakusa and Meian have to join forces to pull Atsumu back from punching the reporter when he grins shark-like, thinking he’s spotted easy prey and asks her whether she felt abandoned in Japan due to his move - ‘pardon me Miya-san for my unwieldy choice of words’. 

‘Not at all’, she says without missing a beat, and Atsumu wonders if he imagines the flash of a knife in her smile. ‘I’ve always supported my husband in all his endeavours. It was a joint decision that I should stay in Japan to ensure our daughter has some stability in her life.'

‘She’s good’, his manager tells him when the reporter slinks away with his tail between his legs. 

‘Yeah - I don’t deserve her’, he answers with a rueful smile. 

When he tries to thank her that night, she levels him with a look that could knock a grown man (i.e. him) off his feet, but her voice is gentle and her words are soft. 

‘Don’t thank me’, she says. ‘Just be a better husband and father, ok?’ 

He’s not ashamed to admit that he actually cries. 

He learns to tell her he loves her at least once a day. She starts to smile back cheekily and reply ‘of course’. 

The game is in between sets when the skin at the back of his neck crackles with nerves. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Osamu sprinting right into the stands. Then his ears pick up on his little girl’s scream - ‘mama’  she cries, her shrill voice ringing above the confusion rippling through the crowd and his legs move of their own accord, leaping over the barrier into the audience, as he snarls and shoves his way to her usual spot. 

He thought he’s had his fill of nightmares to last him a lifetime. He’s evidently wrong. 

She lies crumpled on the ground, head resting on Osamu’s lap. Her lips are pale and her eyes are closed but thank god - thank whichever deity’s listening - her chest still moves with her breath. He’s not quite sure what happens next - he knows he dives to his knees and pulls her towards him but everything else is a blur until her eyes flutter open and she groans. 

‘Darlin’, can ya hear me? Can ya tell me where you are?’ he asks, forcing his voice to remain calm. 

‘Tsumu? Why are you here? Aren’t you in the middle of a game?’ she murmurs, confused. 

‘Fuck the game’, he snaps. ‘Are ya feelin' ok?’ 

‘Something hurts, Tsumu’, she rasps, eyes glazing over. He can feel the chill of ice seep into his spine. 

'Yer fine, yer fine, yer going to be fine' he mutters, over and over and over again, willing her to sit up and tell him she's fine, she's ok, she'll just shake it off - but light starts to shutter out of her eyes and frost creeps up his throat. 

‘I need a medic!’ he shouts, voice cracking on every word. ‘I need a medic, now!’

‘Tsumu’, he hears his brother interrupt urgently. ‘Tsumu, she’s bleedin’. 

He’s never been more grateful for Osamu when his twin turns to yell for an ambulance and yanks Shino away with him. The little girl is kicking and screaming for her mama but he knows she would kill him if he lets their little girl be traumatised from seeing her mama lying in a pool of blood on the floor. 

He can’t breathe - not even when the medics finally come and whisk her off to the hospital, his mind hardly able to process anything, terror still coursing through his veins when the doctors press brown envelopes full of forms into his bloodstained hands for him to sign so the relevant procedures can be carried out. 

‘Don’t!’ Osamu says sharply, when he drops his head into his hands and starts to whimper about how he’ll die if he loses her again and what the fuck is he gonna do, ‘Samu, if she doesn’t make it out alive – ‘she’s stronger than ya think, don’t ya dare give up on her like that’, and he promptly shuts up after that. Time in the waiting room passes agonizingly slow, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes stretching into hours, and he would have drowned from the weight of his despair if he weren’t anchored in place by his twin’s hand on his back.

His breath rushes back into his lungs when the doctors later tell him she’s fine,  they carried out the standard operation - but she doesn’t look fine, doesn’t seem fine, is very clearly not fine when they wheel her out, huddled into a ball with her head between her knees, like her world has just collapsed into itself. She doesn’t even look up when he sits beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. 

‘I’m sorry’, she eventually says, voice barely a whisper, and he fights the urge to break down into tears – because ‘Samu’s right, she’s so much stronger than he thinks. They'd been talking about trying for a sibling for Shino for some time now, since they've both grown up with brothers of their own and can't imagine life without them. But the doctors tell him that it’s just bad luck - the baby was never going to survive, and her collapse was probably exacerbated by stress, overwork, perhaps even fatigue from her skipping lunch for work and dinner to rush to his match.

‘Don’t be. It’s not yer fault at all’, he manages to pull himself together to reassure her, but she just stares blankly at the wall. 

His grandmother calls when they find out the baby they lost would have been a boy, and he fails her again when he’s too late to snatch the phone away before the old lady’s poison drips into her ears and traps her in a deadly fog. He’d cursed the old bitch out relentlessly, but the toxic words fester beneath her skin and she fades into a ghost before his eyes. He desperately tries to stop her spiral into frozen silence, but he’s away for games more than half the time, hands tied behind his back by the stranglehold of contracts and commitments he has no choice but to fulfil. 

He’s never been so thankful before when the season finally ends - but he is, at least this time, so he can talk her into taking two weeks off from work. They drop Shino off with her indulgent grandparents, and drift down the coast on the back of her bike. She doesn’t try breaking any speed limits - and he knows he should be happy about that, but there’s no spark in her eyes, no smile to answer the wind - there hasn’t been, not since she collapsed. 

(not since they lost their child)

He buys her mochi at every town, but she picks at it listlessly, just like she does these days when Osamu tries to tempt her with his latest creations. He insists they stay at  ryokans, traditional inns with onsens attached, hoping the heat from the water might chase the chill from her bones, but colour does not return to her cheeks. There are shadows beneath her eyes, and she seems to wilt under the vibrant red and gold of autumn leaves. 

They go for a walk after dinner one night, tracing a path along the shore. He’d been talking non-stop the entire trip to mask the gaps left by her silence, but tonight he falls quiet, allowing the hum of the waves to wash over them. Her hand is cold in his, so he wraps his jacket around her shoulders and hopes the warmth from his body bleeds into hers. 

She comes to a standstill, feet sinking in the sand, and tilts her head to face him. 

‘Tsumu?’, she breathes, a question in her eyes. 

‘I’m here’, he says, a prayer in his heart. 

There is a lighthouse on the cliff just a few miles ahead, illuminating the shadows of the waves. The faintest reflection of light pools in her eyes, and he stills as she lifts her gaze to meet his. 

‘I know’, she says, offering him the smallest of smiles. 

He interlaces their fingers together firmly, and tugs her towards shelter, as a storm brews over the horizon. 

That night she tucks her head under his chin, and he holds her until she falls asleep, cradled in his arms. He keeps slumber at bay by counting her breaths, and only falls asleep himself when the storm breaks. 

'Why did I wake up to a blonde octopus wrapped around me', she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. 

'Nah. More like a seahorse, cos I'm not letting ya go, sweetheart', he replies, tightening his grip on her waist. 'Ya got a problem with that?' 

Her only response is to burrow herself deeper into his chest.

'Guess not', he chuckles fondly, nuzzling his nose into her hair, hope blossoming anew in his heart. 

Time turns their wounds into scars and they heal together, one breath at a time. 

She stays away from their first few matches when the season begins again. The press is coerced into passing over reports of her collapse by the dual forces of the MSBY press machine and their legal team, but they are forced to ride out the gossip generated in internet forums by a fringe group of deranged fans. His teammates treat her like she’s made of glass - even Bokuto dials himself down a notch, all save for Shoyo, who slips her his mother’s number, telling her gently that the six year gap between him and Natsu wasn’t deliberate, and that she would find a sympathetic ear in the older woman. 

He knew he was right to anoint Shoyo as his favourite wing spiker - not only does he fly high enough to answer the demand of every single one of his sets, but his sunniness drags her out of the fog into yoga classes and meditation practices, and slowly but surely he watches her bloom again. It’s a powerful combination - Shoyo-kun’s friendship and his mother’s gentle conversations, Osamu’s cooking and her love for Shino, capped with his determination to show her he loves her and prove that he’s here to stay.

‘It’s like Kintsugi’, she tells him, with a wide smile. ‘All of you poured gold into the cracks of my heart and made me whole again’. 

The years pass. 

Shino turns seven – a very respectable age for his very best girl, he tells her (I'm your only girl, Papa, Shino informs him archly), and obliges her demands of a bicycle in MSBY colours and volleyball lessons, forcing all his teammates to turn up for her birthday party, volleyball themed of course. The look of unadulterated joy on his princess’ face is worth every ounce of effort to put up with Sakusa’s complaints at having to turn up for a kiddie party full of loud noises and far too much candy, and the sweaty afternoons spent hand painting the bicycle black and gold. 

The day Atsumu discovers his first white hair makes her thank her lucky stars that she’s immune to his nonsense by now, because the wailing and gnashing of teeth she has to put up with makes ‘Samu offer her his couch as refuge. She slaps tape and salonpas on his aches and pains, and points to the deepening lines on her face when he complains about his age. 

‘Those lines aren’t wrinkles. If they’re caused by laughter, it doesn’t count’, he reasons laughingly. She’s left befuddled by his logic and shakes her head.

Meian Shugo retires, and Hinata throws a party to celebrate in his honour, cramming the entire MSBY team and assorted friends into his penthouse apartment on a rainy Saturday night. Osamu’s hired to cater the food but remains as a guest, shooting a smirk at him when Shoyo drags her off to dance during his favourite song, twin flames burning bright in the night. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ she asks, when Shoyo returns with her breathless but wreathed with smiles. 

‘Was just wondering when you were gonna save a dance for this old man’, he teases. 

‘Oh?’ she says with a laugh. ‘Thought you said your back hurt, and you didn’t want to move?’

‘Meh - I was hoping you’d forget that’, he says airily, then frowns when he notices there’s no drink in her hand. 

‘Not drinking tonight, sweetheart?’, he asks, curling his fingers around her empty hand. 

‘The doctor warned me not too’, she answers, her smile growing impossibly wider. He blinks in confusion when she leans on to her toes to whisper into his ear - then oh. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he repeats, unable to trust his ears, eyes filling with tears when she bites her lips and nods. 

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’, she asks, her face alight with hope. 

There is so much he wants to say to her, starting with thank you loving me enough to give me another chance all those years ago and ending with I love you, so ridiculously much – because he can never say it enough, she’s given him more than he deserves – her heart, Shino, a happy home and now the promise of another child. 

But there's salt and water welling up in his throat, and it’s all he can do to choke out a shaky ‘of course’, before gathering her in his arms, warmth pooling in his eyes, love overflowing in his heart. 

They stay that way for most of the night, entwined in each other’s arms, so drunk on happiness and love and warmth that they don’t even notice the storm clearing and the moon rising in the clear night sky. 

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu angst #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #inarizaki #haikyuucreations

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: joshua x reader ⚬ word count: 5040 ⚬ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⚬ genres: FLUFF, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!joshua, some annoying neighbour tropes, a little bit of pining, wintery pizzazz, joshua is a hopeless romantic :( 

✧✎ synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong. 

✧✎ a/n: oooUUooouu YES! this is a gift to my lovely secret santa, @luvshuas !! ♡ in my first ask, i learned that dani liked using paint by numbers, AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS ADORABLE so i helped use it to create this fic! dani, you are such a joy to talk to AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS XOXOXO !! :D

Last week, someone new had moved into the empty apartment one floor above yours. You didn’t know who. Not their name, not their face, just that they occupied the once vacant space of room 24D. Supposedly, their next-door neighbours had already brought them some housewarming gifts. A watering can filled with flowers, a wreath of white candles, and an old sewing tin now converted into a container for oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

All closely resembling the gifts you received during your first week at the apartment complex. It made sense though, considering most rooms were home to very elderly couples. At first, you planned a brief gap in your day to visit this stranger and welcome them to such a small complex. Find out if they were old or young, endearing or irritable, sensible or flat out crazy. But you never visited room 24D, because you were currently in a moat about your ex-partner.

An extremely deep, inescapable moat.

Not only had they broken up with you on the day you planned to introduce them to your parents, they decided it would be most efficient to do so through a stupid text message. From Monday to Friday, you’d been moping in a curled-up ball on the couch, blowing into tissues and flicking through the holiday romcoms even though they were all so cookie-cutter and dull. To make matters worse, it had been snowing all week, shutting you indoors as a draft built up outside the windowsills.

You had completely forgot about the newbie who’d just moved in upstairs. Until one day, when they decided to make their presence known in the most jarring way possible.

That particular morning, you were finally feeling stable enough to not eat dry, stale cereal straight from the box. You were feeling well enough to avoid another twelve hours moulding into the couch. While a cold wind blew against the windows and rattled the glass, you poured yourself some tea with the new teapot your mother parceled as an early present. And that’s when you heard it: an eruption of electric sound from the floor directly above yours. It sounded like a guitar, if that guitar were plugged into a massive amp and its chords were being plucked by one thousand fingers.

Coincidentally, you spilt tea, scalding and runny, all over the countertop. It started dribbling down your cupboards and creating blotches on the tiled flooring. At random, the sound stopped.

By lunchtime you were unwinding in the shower, your eyes shut as the water poured onto your face and streamed toward the drain. When you squeezed out some shampoo onto your fingers, you heard the chord progression again. This time louder, if that was even possible. The bottle flung from your wet hands and crashed against the floor, startling you half to death, a trail of wasted shampoo then painted to the wall. But the sound didn’t stop immediately. Unlike last time, the stranger railed on their guitar for half an hour at least.

Yet the last straw didn’t come until evening.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a water jar next to your elbow, you were using your new paint by numbers kit. You had been waiting all day to try it, brushing in the mesmerizing colours of a watery-purple landscape. For the last time that day, you were jolted by the riff of an electric guitar, causing you to jerk a huge, thick streak of black paint right across the paper, effectively ruining it. How horrible. How Terrible.

And you were not going to let the incident slide.

Room 24D. 

The room directly above yours. After banging your fist rather inhospitably against the door, you couldn’t lie that the face which greeted you was a definite shock. A young man probably in his early twenties, with curly, brown hair styled neatly yet in disarray, and these wide, glass-like eyes that felt so penetrating you were afraid to glare him down. In fact, you were a bit nervous.

“I don’t know where you stayed at last, b-but at this complex, people don’t usually slam on their electric guitars.”

But so what if you were nervous? You had grown accustomed to sharing this complex with seniors. The thought of someone this young (and admittedly – quite beautiful) had somewhat stunted your brain. The stranger looked at you as though he had nothing to say. He started bobbing his head and shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing it doesn’t happen ‘cause everyone here is over seventy and crochets scarves until bedtime. It’s not my fault you’re the only one who’s still got decent hearing.”

Your eyes narrowed; your brow heavily creased.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

 He hesitated at first, then replied, “Joshua.”

“Okay, Joshua, I’d rather have everyone in this building crocheting scarves out the damn window if it meant not listening to a stupid electric guitar all day. You ruined my paint by numbers kit.”

Joshua laughed. “Your what?” He then flashed a grin which suggested he was holding back a satirical comment.

“My paint by numbers kit!” You repeated, feeling your nervousness dissolve into irritation. “It’s ruined, and I’m blaming it on you because it’s your fault. My whole week has been awful and you just made it even worse. So there. I hope you’re happy.”

For some reason, Joshua leaned his shoulder against the doorframe like someone who had all the time in the world. He appeared way too comfortable. Something about it irked you while simultaneously pulling this weird, fuzzy string in your chest. The boy folded his arms and raised a curious eyebrow.

“Why was your week awful?” He questioned.

There was a sweetness to his voice which hadn’t been there before, and you absolutely weren’t going to fall for it, even if it sounded like he ate a spoonful of honey and might taste just as good.

“No. Forget it,” you sighed, waving a dismissive hand, “I said what I had to say. Just be quieter, please.”

You turned around sharply, making your way toward the elevator based at the end of the corridor. Those magnetic eyes of his seemed to be glued to your backside, an almost palpable feeling.

“Okay!” He called out. “Great chat! Nice to meet you too!”

The boy was being wholly sarcastic of course. After returning to your apartment, you cleaned up the kitchen table, sweeping away your paint by numbers kit into a drawer just in case you were one day struck with the motivation to fix it up. Probably not.

“Uh—excuse me? You called me, remember? So don’t go shifting the fault like always. I just can’t believe how immature you are! And, you know what, I’m hanging up now! Don’t call back!”

Smashing your finger against the phone screen, you ended the call, silencing the aggravated voice that had pounded through the line just a second before. An unfortunate misdial resulted in your ex phoning you at the supermarket. The interaction immediately turned south, prompting you to hurry outside into the snow, wedging the brown paper bag of produce underneath your arm and against your chest, all while you barked into the phone with the other hand.

Snowflakes were brimming the edge of your wool hat; your fingertips numb and stiff. Your pacing, impatient footsteps were stamped across the white ground. Things had been difficult enough without your ex invading even the most boring parts of your life, and now a mundane stop at the market had left you intensely unsettled.

As you huffed a web of your breath into the air, you spotted something unexpected: Joshua helping Mrs. Akané load the groceries into her small silver-bullet car. She lived alone on the bottom floor of the apartment complex, one of the kindest old ladies in the whole building. Every winter she had knitted you a pink pair of mittens. When Joshua opened the car door for her, she gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and her patented rosy-cheeked smile.

Since you scorned him for his abrasive guitar playing, it only happened less often, though it was never any quieter. You realized that he belonged in a band. From time to time they would take the stage at the downtown bar, engendering a space so packed it was nearly impossible to wriggle to the counter for a quick drink. Joshua invited you to his Friday night gig – which was tonight – and while you had contemplated the decision to attend, the disheartening encounter with your ex had officially soiled the mood.

Joshua noticed you, probably looking cold and mad.

“So,” he began, “are you coming tonight?”

Adjusting the groceries underneath your arm, you shrugged, meanwhile the hollow nature of your eyes screamed a blatant no. If anything, you wanted to be back on that living room couch, eating an entire tray of frosted shortbread cookies and dabbing at your tears.

“Seriously?” Joshua frowned. “You’re gonna pass? It is ‘cause you’re still mad about the guitar playing? I’m sorry, okay.”

“No,” you shook your head, “no, no. It’s not because of your disruptive, loud guitar playing. I’m just not having a good day.”

Bits of snow began to powder Joshua’s brown hair. His cheeks were blushed and his nose rosy.

“No offense,” the boy laughed, “but it seems like you’re never having a good day.” He then shook his head, scattering the snowflakes from between the fibres of his hair. “How about you come to our little concert shindig thing, listen to our set – which is great, I promise – then we can talk about it, back at my place.”

For a moment, you paused, and this perplexed expression briefly eclipsed your features. Did he just subtly attempt to persuade you into some sort of… Date? No, it was too soon for anything like that. He was probably joking anyways (despite his straight face).

“I don’t know… I’m tired. Maybe another time.”

You started carrying the brown bag of produce to your car, parked just down the street. Joshua chuckled and tagged along at your side, the snow crunching softly under your feet.

“When’s another time?” He asked.

Throwing open the car door and sliding the bag inside, you sighed. “Another time is another time. It’s self-explanatory.”

“So you’re not coming?” Joshua questioned in finality.

“No.” You replied, rubbing your cold fingers together, attempting to spark some warmth. “I’m not.”

It was then that Joshua took your hands in his, a gesture that completely flicked you off your axis, and started to squeeze them, kneading your skin with his thumbs until you felt the uncomfortable stiffness gradually wear off. He brought your hands close to his face, pursed his pink, very pretty lips, and started to blow on them. A sensation fizzled to life in your lower tummy. Not only were you heating up significantly, but you felt too hot. Scary hot.

“That’s a shame.” Joshua said, releasing your hands carefully, like he’d just touched gold. “But I can wait for another time.”

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Most likely because you were regretting the decision to not attend Joshua’s gig at the bar. The fact that no matter how hard you pushed, memories of your past relationship would still linger like a heavy mist, preventing you from being happy, from detaching, from forming new connections. Wet drops of snow tapped against your window. And then, at around one in the morning, you heard a knock at your apartment door.

Joshua. Evidently intoxicated. His guitar case slung over his back. A foggy sort of look disrupting his usual countenance.

“Hey there,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eye, “couldn’t get into my room. Think I could crash—” the boy stopped midsentence to yawn and hiccup, his face flushed pink, “crash here?”

“Did you walk home from the bar?” You asked, disregarding his inquiry. 

“No, Jihoon drove me.” Joshua answered, bracing his hand against the threshold. “Pretty please? Can I stay?”

“Fine.”

You took the dark green guitar case from Joshua’s back, stamped with numerous luggage stickers that made it seem as though he’d flown all over the globe. After settling the case beside the couch, you helped Joshua lie down, though he flopped rather ungracefully with his face squished into a pillow.

For an awkward moment, you were just standing there, twiddling your thumbs as Joshua squirmed onto his back.

“Do you want a glass of water?” You proposed.

Joshua carded a hand through his brown locks and further dishevelled them. His face seemed to glow and the manner in which his eyes softly shut had you feeling oddly sympathetic. Like you needed to take care of him.

Rather than answering your question, Joshua sighed.

“I can’t believe you flaked on me.” He said. “I looked forward to seeing you there all week. I told my friends about you.”

Your toes dug into the carpet; teeth fastened into your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if he was rambling drunken nonsense or being wholly truthful. Joshua titled his head to the side, nestling his cheek comfortably against the pillow.

“Like I said, there’ll be another time.”

“Can I have a blanket?” He mumbled sleepily.

Disappearing into your bedroom for a moment, you grabbed Joshua a spare blanket which often lied next to you on the bed, just in case it got a little too cold at night. Your heating was fairly shabby.

“Here you go.” You said, dropping it on him.

After pulling the fabric up to his chin and spending a minute getting comfy, Joshua started smiling, lashes long against his cheeks.

“Appreciate it.” He replied. ”Kick me out early if you want.”

When Joshua scheduled his next gig at the bar, you made sure to be there, settled near the back at the cocktail counter. As you anticipated, the space filled up quickly, and you kept tucking in your legs whenever someone scooted by to use the washroom or find a better vantage point. You didn’t mention that you were coming. It was supposed to be a surprise which had oddly excited you. Like you were someone important to him, even though you probably weren’t.

You enjoyed his band’s performance. While sipping at something syrupy and a little too cherry flavoured, you couldn’t help but smile behind the glass, shake your foot even, as Joshua strummed down on the electric guitar. There was a pink-haired drummer seated behind him, and a bassist with a dashing, heavenly smile. Eventually, the tone of their music shifted near the end of the set. Joshua exchanged his electric guitar for the acoustic one kept in that dark green, stickered case. And when he started to sing a slower, more sentimental song, you felt something cotton-like in your chest.

How could his voice be this soft? How could it turn so sweet? How could his eyes switch from a powerful ripple to calm water? And why were you heating up all over? The glass hit your knee as you continued to watch Joshua sing, as though you’d fallen into a trance, like a sailor caught by the lullaby of a siren.

But then, as your eyes scanned the crowd for a brief moment, they attached to some who looked awfully familiar.

Goddammit. Of course.

Why did your stupid ex have to be everywhere? 

Why did they have to invade every aspect of your life? Especially the enjoyable parts? Once the stage ended and Joshua began thanking the crowd for an energetic reaction, they turned around and grabbed their friend excitedly. Yet, the thrill on their face disappeared the second they noticed you, glaring bitterly, angrily, still clearly hurt. That’s when you decided to leave.

You were halfway down the block when you heard your name being shouted. Pausing beneath a street lamp, you attempted to peer through the heavy flurries sweeping down from the night sky. A silhouette began to take shape. Joshua finally pressed through into the light, without his jacket, his equipment, or even a damn sweater.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” You questioned him, wondering how cold he must be feeling in that white t-shirt.

Joshua took a few more steps forward. “I saw you there,” he replied, still trying to catch his breath, “but then you just stormed out. I nearly threw myself down the back entrance trying to catch up with you, y’know. How do you walk that damn fast?”

“I just—I wanted to beat the crowd home.” You lied.

Joshua took in another big breath, then nodded his head. “So, what did you think? You like the music?”

“It’s cool… Why did you leave without a jacket? I mean, it’s snowing like crazy. You’re gonna get hypothermia or something.”

“Well, I didn’t want to let you get away.” The boy laughed, brushing off some flurries compiling on his shoulder. “It was great to see you there. But, why didn’t you tell me? Why the secrecy.”

You shrugged. “Why should I tell you?”

At that, you weren’t expecting Joshua to have a response. Maybe he’d be a little puzzled and have to think about it. Instead, he seemed to be formulating a surprise of his own.

“Because I have a song for you,” Joshua revealed, “I wrote it with Jihoon. It’s an acoustic thing. But I could turn it hard rock too.”

It felt like someone had turned the table. Ironically, you were the one struggling to reply, your brow furrowing in the dim light as you stared at this boy with his glowing cheeks and his hair disrupted by the flakes of snow. You sniffled, cold air hitting your lungs.

“Why would you write a song about me?”

No one had ever done such a gesture for you before. Not that you had been acquainted with many musicians or lyricists. You felt strange, but also warm, and heart-fluttery, and like you were possibly falling for someone harder than ever before. Joshua approached you tentatively and grabbed your hand, his eyes soft.

“Probably because I like you.” Joshua murmured. “A lot.”

Your heart started to pound, and it felt like someone was banging their fists against your chest. Even if you had denied it in the beginning, the truth was that you liked Joshua too. And yet, those reciprocating words somehow fell to the bottom of your feet. Because as much as you wanted it, you still weren’t ready for someone new.

“Joshua…” you squeezed his hand and looked into those endearing eyes of his, “I-I can’t right now. I was in a relationship not too long ago, and now that’s over, but I’m still trying to get over it. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry.” Joshua answered, running his thumb between your knuckles. “You’re not ready, I get it.”

Breathing out slowly, you smiled at him. 

You were yanking open all the drawers in the kitchen, trying to remember where exactly you had stuck that little metal whisk. A bowl of unmixed cupcake batter was waiting to be stirred. Each year that it was open, you signed up for the Complex Gift Exchange, and it just so happened that sixty-five-year-old Miss Dupont really liked vanilla cupcakes. You pulled out the drawer that had been hiding the ruined, stained paper courtesy of your paint by numbers kit.

Rolling your eyes, you slammed it shut, only to realize you’d left the whisk sitting behind the big bag of flour on the counter.

Even though you had turned down Joshua that one night in the snow, he didn’t act spiteful or weird about it. And somehow, you two had grown closer since. Joshua was very easy to talk to. He was a good listener. No matter how many times you ran into each other on the elevator, or at the supermarket, the letter boxes in the lobby or at the car lot, Joshua always made time to listen to whatever mishap had bothered you that day. He still railed on his electric guitar every now and then, though you were beginning to accept it. Baby steps.

Apparently, one of his bandmates was visiting today. 

You knew exactly when he’d arrived too, because as soon as you pulled the cupcakes out from the oven to cool, this wave of intense sound; drumming, symbols, guitar, everything, exploded from the floor above, like someone had just thrown a clump of instruments into a hurricane. You stared up at the ceiling winsomely and sighed.

Dressed in a long, thick winter coat, you went outside the complex to visit the garden, now blanketed by snow and sparkling white. You brushed off the bench that had once sat before a fiery pink row of petunias and took a seat. It was much quieter.

“Hey!”

Or so you thought.

Turning around, you gazed up at the apartment complex, spotting two familiar faces hanging out from a fourth story window.

“What?!” You shouted back.

Joshua grinned, then cupped his hands around his mouth as an amplifier. “Were we being too loud?!” He asked.

“Yeah!” His friend yelled. “Were we too loud?!” You had learned the other face was Jihoon, the band drummer, his hair now a rusty shade of crimson. He helped write most of their music.

“No, I’m just sitting out here in the wind and snow and below zero temperatures because I want to!” You replied at the top of your lungs.

Waving at you apologetically, Joshua kept smiling. “Sorry! I’m gonna kick him out soon!” He pointed at Jihoon. “If you want, you can come up here and listen to our last rehearsal!”

Jihoon shoved Joshua’s head out of the way.

“Don’t come up here!” The drummer exclaimed. “It’s not even close to ready yet. He’s just saying that because he’s in—”

A hand clamped swiftly to the boy’s mouth, muffling the remainder of his sentence like it was top secret. Joshua then dragged him away from the open window. Quirking an eyebrow in confusion, you stared at the vacant space until Joshua reappeared a moment later, scratching the back of his head and looking sheepish.

“Sorry about that!” Joshua called. “We’re almost done!”

“I’m in no rush!” You answered, turning back around.

It was true. There weren’t too many pressing things you needed to get done today, besides making the buttercream frosting for Miss Dupont’s cupcakes. The weather wasn’t even as terrible as you made it seem. The wind was light, and the shining sun helped mitigate the usual bitterness of winter. It was quite nice out.

Until about ten minutes later, when Joshua threw a snowball at your back. You spun around quickly, glaring at the boy who was dusting his hands clean of snow, standing near the complex doorway. In that moment, you wanted to be angry at him. But, to be honest, you felt like laughing instead.

“Shouldn’t I be the one throwing snowballs at you?”

Joshua shrugged. “If you could even hit me.”

“Keep your eyes open tonight, Joshua Hong.” You comically threatened him. “Where are you going, anyways?”

“I have to get my person a gift for the exchange thing.” He said, pulling a hat over his hair. “And a new guitar pick.”

“Have fun with that.”

Then, waiting for him to turn around, you hastily packed together a snowball and threw it against the back of his coat.

Miss Dupont somehow figured out who was responsible for her gift. She asked you to give her the cupcakes early, because she swore, she was had been able to smell them baking through the air ducts. Maybe you added too much vanilla. Everyone was supposed to exchange their gifts tomorrow, leaving them by the door or delivering them in person. You didn’t have a clue as to who could be preparing your gift. As long as it wasn’t another candle wreath to collect dust in your closet, you figured you’d be fine with it.

Tonight would be your last opportunity in a long while to watch Joshua’s band perform at the downtown bar. You’d missed their last show, ruminating over the possibility of encountering your ex again; feeling those horrible emotions which were nothing more than poison in disguise. After the New Year, Joshua was planning to visit South Korea with his bandmates for a few weeks. It would be awfully strange to not hear another symphony from his electric guitar, or Jihoon’s drumkit. Jeonghan never really stopped by much.

It was at least an hour or so before Joshua was scheduled to perform. So, you decided to walk down the street to the lane of trees now wrapped and curled with lights. There were small, twinkling white lights. Large, blue lights shaped like hanging icicles. Some blinked in a specific pattern while others morphed colours. At night, it made quite the spectacle. Many people had stopped, much like yourself, to admire the aurora and pull their significant other a little bit closer. You huffed, hating this lonesomeness inside you.

But then you felt a quick pair of fingers dance up your back, and immediately recognized his eyes shining like stars.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at the lights.” Joshua remarked, zipping up his jacket. “They’ve been up for a while now.”

“It’s always a magnet for couples.” You told him, glancing around at all the handholding and heads leaned adoringly on shoulders. “And I am—well, I was, standing here alone.” Inside your coat pocket, you played with a piece of lint, realizing that perhaps you finally felt ready and significantly healed to consider another relationship.

Looking at you from the corner of his eye, Joshua nodded.

It seemed as though the lights were a place he visited frequently, even amongst all the couples. To you, Joshua seemed like someone who was inspired by love. The not so subtle nature of awkward yet enamored eye contact which made people giggly. Holding onto the very tips of someone’s fingers because you couldn’t let go of their hand even for a second. Pressing an ear to a comfortable chest, listening for a rhythmic, thumping heartbeat. You bet he liked kisses too. Quick kisses on cheeks and gentle kisses on noses and slow, warm kisses to the mouth which could set a fire in your belly.

Out of the blue, you asked him something personal.

“How fast do you usually fall for someone?”

Joshua’s eyes traced the twinkling lights of the tree, all the way to the very top.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Kicking at a lump of hard snow, you sighed. “I think I fall too quickly. Maybe that’s why my last relationship ended the way it did. I just… I don’t know, it could be that I jumped in without knowing what’s beneath me. I don’t want that to happen again.”

The boy glanced at you, snowflakes already beginning to stick in his hair. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with taking things slow. I mean, there’s always going to be some chance in a relationship. You don’t know until you’re in it.”

“I guess so.” You replied. “When I think about it, anything’s better than getting text message-dumped right before a family dinner.” Joshua wasn’t a stranger to the humiliating affairs of your past relationship. One night, after one too many beverages at the bar, you introduced him to the entire story.

“Bad luck.” The boy said.

“Bad taste, more like.” You sighed. “I mean, what was I thinking?”

Joshua shook his head, his hand rubbing your shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up. Seriously, the right person will come along.”

Short laughter burst through your nose, and you looked at him with a knowing, lighthearted grin. “Are you supposed to be that person, Joshua Hong?”

“I’d like to think I am.” He chuckled, his cheeks getting rosier. “But I know you’re not ready. I can be patient, though.”

“So, you’re going to wait for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua nodded. “For you, and you only? Of course.”

At that, something deep in your chest began to stir. The feeling robbed you of your words and left you breathless. Afraid of what you might do in the silence between you, quickly, you changed the subject.

“Am I going to hear that special song you wrote? Or have you scrapped it already?”

“You’ll hear it.” Joshua said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ivory guitar pick. “Save your applause for the very end, though. I know you might be tempted to start cheering, come up on stage in front of everyone and try to kiss me or something.”

Rolling your eyes, you started to laugh, your breath becoming a thin cloud in the still coldness of winter.

“You wish, Joshua Hong.”

He sighed, a faint smirk on his lips. “You’re right. I do.”

At approximately five o’clock in the morning, you were awakened by a fist banging at your front door. For a moment, you believed it was nothing more than part of a fuzzy dream, and simply tossed over in bed as your arms dug further under the pillow. However, the banging resumed almost instantly, and though it was very muffled, someone was calling your name.

Groaning, you dragged yourself from between the sheets and into the washroom, taking a quick sip of water before splashing some to your face. In a loose pair of shorts and a poorly adjusted tank-top, you stumbled to the front door, throwing it open while yawning.

“J-Joshua?” You mumbled, rubbing circles to your eye.

He stood on the opposite side of the threshold with a glimmery-red gift bag in his hand. For some reason, he was dressed in his jacket, those dark brown locks of his seeming damp or partly soaking as they were brushed back from his forehead. His cheeks and mouth were rosy, eyes glistering, and he was breathing deep.

You thought he looked gorgeous.

“Hey!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, as though he’d forgotten how early it was. “So, uh, weird news. Turns out we’re leaving for South Korea today, and we have to catch this seven-am flight. We’re kinda pressed for time. Jeonghan’s been helping me throw all my shit into these suitcases and—anyways, besides the point.” Taking in another breath, Joshua then held up the pretty red gift bag. “I got you for the Gift Exchange. Well—not really. But I made Mrs. Akané switch with me. This is for you.”

The sudden splurge of information had for feeling even more disorientated than when you first awakened. Joshua had to leave already? Had he been packing ever since you walked home together from his show? He pulled strings to get you for the Gift Exchange?

Reaching into the bag and pushing around some tissue paper, you pulled out a rectangular-shaped kit. It felt fairly heavy.

And then you realized just what he’d gotten you.

“Really?” You smiled, letting the bag drop to the floor because all you cared about was the project in your hands. “Another paint by numbers kit? I didn’t even know they sold these here!”

Joshua nodded, brushing some melted drops of snow off his cheek. “It wouldn’t have arrived on time if I ordered it online. Trust me, it was a process. I had to get Jeonghan’s grandma to make some calls because she’s friends with this craft store lady.” He half-sighed, half-laughed. “I just remembered you were so upset about it when I met you. About a lot of things. And I never stopped feeling sorry. I know I laughed at it and everything, but I thought it was cute.”

You brought the project to sit on the dinner table. Looking outside into the street light, you were shocked at how heavily it was snowing. Huge, fluffy clumps. No wonder Joshua’s hair was so damp and his skin so flushed. You couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago, you were sitting on that barstool near the back of the dim room, listening to him sing and feeling like you were starting to love all over again. Now, Joshua was being whisked away.

“I should really get going.” Joshua said, rubbing his pink nose, “Jeonghan and Jihoon are waiting for me down there.”

“W-Wait!” You exclaimed before the boy could disappear.

Joshua paused, though you could read the look of urgence coloured to his face. It was merely a few seconds you stood in that spot, fiddling anxiously with your fingers and struggling to take another step, yet it felt as though time had stretched itself out like plasticine. 

And even though it was slightly terrifying, you had never felt so warm and full of thrill until you had crossed the space to kiss him. Your hands pushed against Joshua’s chest, searching for stability, as you experienced the soft sensation of your lips pressed so desperately to his. Joshua grabbed your cheek in his cold hand to tilt your head a little more left. He stared at you with a hazy, sort of dreamlike look, just for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Am I making you late?” You laughed breathily in between the heated breadth of another kiss.

Joshua shook his head, taking your face in both his hands, moulding his mouth against yours in a smile.

“They can wait just a minute longer,” he answered, “I can’t believe you’re doing this right when I have to leave. You’re really screwing me over, here.”

“Then finish it when you get back.” You smirked.

This time, you were certain of something: you hadn’t jumped too soon. You weren’t going to crash. You were falling in love.

✧✎ a/n: the end the end!! happy holidays !! <3 honestly think it’s kind of the dream to get joshua as ur apartment neighbour xoxo. HOPE U LIKED THIS DANI AND THAT IT GAVE YOU SOME SMILES heheh. i actually haven’t written for joshua in quite a while so i rly appreciated getting to experiment with this. i also love the idea of joshua in a band and being a sappy romantic who always writes abt his future muse ;_; i’m not a huge fluff person BUT I WILL GLADLY GIVE UP EVERYTHING FOR THAT! 

#caratwritersclub #joshua scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #joshua fanfic #joshua hong #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #joshua fluff #svt x reader #joshua x reader

[pillage-and-lute]

Eskel is a Fanboy (Part 2, Electric Boogaloo)

This is a second part of this. Which in turn was inspired by this.

Please note, this is less funny and a little deeper than the first part, despite the title. Discussions of FEELINGS, hardcore, but also the trials. Brief mention of hypothermia.

Read it here on Ao3

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Geralt arrived late that year. Vesemir had been pacing the corridors, a worry line between his brows, for the last week. The snows were getting worse and worse and innocent snowflakes joined other completely harmless snowflakes until a very un-harmless amount of snow had piled on the track and the passes. 

Lambert, alongside Aiden (another reason for the creases on Vesemir’s brow) lounged in the great hall, completely unconcerned. 

“He’s stayed later and later every year,” Lambert said, lazily. “He keeps lingering with that bard of his. Why should this year be any different?” His eyes were half closed as Aiden played idly with his hair.

“If he doesn’t get here in the next two days he’ll be too late,” Vesemir snapped.

“I recognize I’m the outsider, here,” Aiden said. “But I don’t always winter with my troupe, and Lambert occasionally spends winters away...”

Eskel shook his head. The constant bickering was impacting his reading and he’d long ago marked his place in his book and set it aside. “Not Geralt,” he said with certainty. “He always winters at home.”

Aiden levelled a chilly, yellow gaze. “You love him.”

“He’s my brother in arms.”

“He’s special to you.”

Eskel wanted to growl and snap, but Aiden wasn’t saying it in a malicious way. There was no threat or accusation in his words. If there had been it would have been pure hypocrisy, what with the way Lambert currently lay in his lap. Eskel had spent a week pretending not to see the pairs’ furtive kisses.

“He is special to me,” Eskel said at last. “I found him, after his second trial, was given special allowance to be away from training to help him. Whatever happened, with the mutagens, he was deaf and blind for nearly two weeks. And had as much strength as a kitten.”

Vesemir’s pacing gained a sharper edge. “I wish I’d killed the mage that called for that second trial.” He said. Lambert and Eskel made eye contact, they were familiar with the self loathing in Vesemir’s voice. Lambert was angry at the world and his whole situation, but they had all forgiven Vesemir years ago. There was no choice but to mend bridges with a pack so small. Still, they rarely talked about it.

“You killed the mage that called for his third,” Eskel said, quietly.

Aiden’s head jerked up. He’d been a witcher, albeit a different school. He knew the trials, he knew the pain, but three trials... “They tried...?”

Eskel nodded his confirmation. “Geralt survived, and the mages who ran the trials wanted to see how many he could take.”

“So I split his throat on my knife,” Vesemir said. There was no satisfaction in his tone, but just an empty statement of action.

“I didn’t know it was you that killed the mage,” Lambert said. “I just knew one had been killed for the suggestion. I heard they made the witcher drink hemlock as punishment.” There was a warmer light of respect in Lambert’s eyes than usually shone there.

“They did,” Vesemir said. “It didn’t kill me.”

That was it for conversation that night, but Eskel went to bed thinking about Aiden’s words. 

He’s special to you. 

Geralt was special to him. There was an understanding, something gentle and kind between them. Geralt and Eskel lived their separate lives and had lovers and adventures. But for three months of the year they had each other.

Eskel had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. He never gave his heart to anyone. Sex meant nothing and love didn’t happen, and he could only love Geralt for three months at a time. 

Except that wasn’t true at all, because of course Eskel loved Geralt all the time. It was only a softer kind of love than he read about in poetry. He didn’t need fiery passion and desperate declarations of love. He had a steady love for Geralt, as sure as the beating of his heart. It was as good a love story as any, but now Geralt had his bard and a tiny, hidden part of Eskel whispered “If Only.”

If only he and Geralt could lounge like Aiden and Lambert, to pet each others’ hair and share small kisses in the corners. If only Eskel really had Geralt for those three months. He had no doubt that the feelings were mutual, but something in their lives had been built apart, and it would take something powerful to shape them anew.

The next evening brought a blizzard. And Geralt.

It took both Aiden and Lambert to shut the door behind Geralt with the way the wind blew in around him. It curled and flickered shards of ice through the air that melted in the heat of the hall, dampening Geralt’s old, black cloak. Which he was holding around himself like a cocoon. Vesemir took Geralts cloak for him, which revealed what he’d been holding. 

Huddled against Geralt, nose red and face pale, was a young man in a blue cloak. 

Geralt bundled him in front of the fire without a word, pulling away the damp cloak and hanging it to dry. Vesemir brought blankets as Geralt pried the instrument case from the man’s hands.

A lute case.

Eskel’s pulse picked up. This was obviously the bard. This was Jaskier, Oxenfurt’s most prodigious poet. He’d studied with Rumi and Alighieri and Li Bai. In just a few years he’d reformed witchers’ reputations. They’d all been treated better these past few years. More money, less tar and feathers. Eskel went to sit beside Jaskier to beg him for stories but Geralt met his gaze, smiled softly, and shook his head.

Eskel restrained himself. Jaskier was clearly staving off shock from the cold, as well as hypothermia. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (lay himself prone at Jaskier’s feet and worship his skill with words) he put on a kettle for tea. 

Aiden and Lambert make eye contact with each other, nod to Geralt, and leave. Vesemir also makes a tactful retreat. This time was just for Eskel and Geralt. And the bard shivering on a pile of cushions next to the fire. 

“He had a hard time on the Killer,” Geralt said, quietly.

“It’s called the Killer for a reason.”

“He begged me to come, I told him it would be too dangerous,” Geralt whispered. “He followed me and I couldn’t make him leave, that’s why I was late.”

“Vesemir’s been worried,” Eskel said, staring at the fire. He sat on the cushions, beside the bard, without taking his eyes from the coals. Geralt sat on the other side of Jaskier, rubbing carefully over the bard’s chilly hands, pulling off the woolen mittens and gently warming each knuckle.

“I had to go slower for him,” Geralt said. Between the two of them, the bard seemed mostly asleep. His eyelashes flickered on his cheeks, struggling to stay open.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered. “You’ll wake up, you’re cold but not in danger.” He took the other chilly hand. “Just sleep.”

Blue eyes slipped closed and Eskel took the kettle off the fire so it didn’t whistle. 

“He was so desperate to be here, he wanted to see the Keep,” Geralt said. “And I wanted him to come. To meet you.”

“I did make you promise I’d get to meet him,” Eskel said, sitting back down and resting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I think I’ve read everything he’s ever written.”

“That’s not why I wanted him to meet you,” Geralt said.

Eskel’s breath caught. They were talking about it, sort of. “I know,” he said.

The bard curled up a little, like a nautilus shell. Geralt lay down on the cushions behind him and Eskel made himself comfortable. Sleep and warmth and the smell of the pine fire lulled him slowly to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, Jaskier reached out in his sleep and placed one hand, less chilly than it was, on Eskel’s arm. It stayed there until the morning.

“So True Love’s Waste wasn’t inspired by a person?” Eskel asked over breakfast, mouth full of porridge. 

Jaskier shook his head, gulping down hot tea. “No, I was out on a bender with some friends and we saw this washerwoman’s cat trying to catch a soap bubble, right?”

Eskel nodded, entranced.

“It was so totally focused on catching this soap bubble, it’s eyes were all wide and determined, like all it wanted was the bubble, but when it caught the bubble...”

“It popped,” Eskel laughed. “And you wrote a poem that has been deemed the best love poem of the last hundred years about it.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Art is more trite and derivative than people think.”

Eskel reached out and touched Jaskier’s wrist, looking into those heavily-lashed eyes. “Your work could never be called trite, or derivative.”

Behind Jaskier, Eskel saw something flash in Geralt’s eyes, and he stood from the table, clearing his plate, but then Jaskier was telling a story about Rumi, his former professor, and Eskel’s attention was diverted.

The next week passed in peace, for the most part. Repairs to the keep were ongoing, but halted when the snow was heavy. Vesemir kept them training and the library, neglected by all but Eskel, kept Jaskier busy. At mealtimes and in the evenings Eskel and Jaskier chatted about art and music and life on the Path. But Geralt was subdued, something tired and sad gleaming in his golden eyes. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he fled when Eskel tried.

It hurt, that Geralt suddenly wouldn’t talk to him, but Eskel knew the white wolf better than anyone, so he cornered him in the training yard one afternoon and pinned him down.

“Talk. To. Me,” he panted, grinding Geralt’s shoulders into the flagstones.

“Nothing to say,” Geralt grunted.

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing!”

“You keep hiding! It’s not nothing!”

Geralt kicked his feet up, flipping them both over and freeing himself. He stood over Eskel who was still laying on the ground. “You can have him,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Eskel snagged his ankle, bringing his idiot wolf down to the ground without remorse. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m not, he adores you. You have so much in common, it makes sense.”

Eskel remembered the conversation of the year before. Please don’t take my bard.

“I’m not taking your lover boy from you,” he snapped.

“He’s not my lover boy.”

“He would be if you would only ask him.”

“He deserves better.”

“He wants you.”

“He wants you,” Geralt howled. “He looks at you like you got out a ladder and personally nailed the moon to the sky. Every time you talk he hangs on your words.”

“He looks at you the same way,” Eskel said, quietly. “And I...” He paused. This was so close to the thing they never talked about.

“You don’t look at me that way,” Geralt whispered.

“But I feel it all the same.”

The admission rang in the empty training yard, despite it being barely a whisper.

“I want you to have him, to be with him, because the two of you are made for eachother. It was obvious to me before you’d even met. I just wish,” Geralt stopped, his voice growing tight. 

“What do you wish?”

“I just hate that it hurts so much. I love you both, I do, so so much, and all I want is you two happy, and you’ll be happy together, but I just wish it didn’t cut me out.”

Eskel rolled over and bumped his forehead to Geralt’s. There were tear tracks in the dirt there. “It doesn’t have to. That’s a silly rule and you made it up for yourself. I love you both and he loves us both, so you can have us both.”

Geralt sat up, bringing Eskel with him, then pulled him into a kiss that burned. It was a simple press of their lips together but Eskel felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oh,” came a quiet voice from the nearby doorway. Jaskier was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “I’ll just--”

“Stay,” Eskel said, chuckling. He pulled Jaskier down to sit on the flagstones with them. “I think Geralt has something he wants to tell you.”

Geralt looked nervous. He swallowed a couple times, eyes darting over Jaskier’s face. “I...” He said. “Um, what Eskel means is that... um, I”

“Oh you great big oaf,” Eskel said. “Jaskier, he loves you, he’s absolutely mad about you. He just can’t say it because he loves me too and it’s taken him the better part of a century to tell me.”

Jaskier beamed, his blush growing. “And you?” he said.

“I’m not sure I love you yet,” Eskel said. “But I think I will.”

“I think I will too,” Jaskier said, then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, off center, so it brushed his scar and part of his cheek too. Then he kissed Geralt the same way. 

“Aiden’s going to be so pissed that he lost the bet,” Jaskier said, as if he hadn’t just rocked both witchers’ worlds with a mere kiss. “He bet Lambert you wouldn’t figure it out until next week.”

“You knew,” Eskel said, touching the tips of his fingers to where his face was still tingling from the kiss.

“They way Geralt talks about you, well...” Jaskier said, smiling at Geralt. “And then the way you talk about him,” he smiled at Eskel. “And the way you both look at me, I knew. I just wasn’t sure you knew.” His smile shifted into something bashful and a little insecure. It was an odd look on his normally confident face. “And it seemed too much to assume you both would really want me, I’m not all,” he gestured at his shoulders and arms, obviously comparing their builds.

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “We don’t care about that,” he said, carding his hand through Jaskier’s hair and revelling in the way the bard leaned into his touch. “I’ve seen Geralt with a face full of pimples, and I mean full, and that was back when he was calling himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. It isn’t about looks.” He trailed his eyes across Jaskier. “And even if it was we wouldn’t find you wanting.”

“He’s right,” Geralt said, pressing a little kiss right behind Jaskier’s ear. “We find nothing about you wanting.”

“You both are going to leave me wanting if you’re not careful,” Jaskier whined, borderline laciviously. He leaned back against Geralt and pulled Eskel closer, kissing Eskel’s cheek chastely in spite of his words. When he turned to kiss Geralt’s cheek too Eskel nuzzled closer, feeling Geralt’s arms pull him into the pair of them.

“You have to promise to write me into your poetry, after all this,” he said.

Jaskier laughed, head tilting back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “As if I haven’t already,” he whispered. 

Three months later the great bard Jaskier debuted his latest poetry anthology. Silver and Steel was praised by academics across the continent, although the line about being eaten alive was highly debated. Jaskier’s sudden penchant for high collars might have answered the questions, but he wasn’t about to give away the secret. 

#jaskel #geralt x jaskier x eskel #this is stupid but happy #less funny than the first bit #but more cute #the witcher #jaskier is a famous bard #eskel is his fanboy #geralt loves them both very much

[whatupitsastarrynite]

It Was Always You

A/N- HEY HEY! This was our first time writing for Coco and we had so so so much fun and we are now starting to feel our boy Johnny more. (or at least I know I am- Britt)

Cheers to Coco, the man who deserves so much more than he has been given thus far! 🥰😘😍

We also have a group chat that you can join and we will post our fic updates in that! 

Thanks so much everyone! We love youuuu!!! 

Imagine: You and Coco grew up together. The pair of you were the best of friends, inseparable right up until he met the woman who would eventually become the mother of his child. From there, you started studying hard in an attempt to get out of Santo Padre and into New York's best writing program. Coco on the other hand spiraled out of control, he was incarcerated and then later he enlisted into the marines. You kept tabs on him, but ultimately you focused on school. You got into the writing program of your dreams, you moved to New York and everything was perfect...so yeah, every now and then you had to ignore the voice in your head that told you that you missed Coco and should call him..but you leaned to cancel that voice out.

Every year for your parents birthday you would facetime them and send them a gift in the mail. As a huge editor to a very popular magazine, you couldn't afford to take time off. This year however, your father was sick, and you knew you needed to see him.

So you packed your bags, jumped on a plane and flew out to Santo Padre. The entire flight you were nervous and you kept fidgeting in your seat.

You had not set foot inside Santo Padre since you were 19 years old. You were in your early 30s now. So many things had changed, but deep down you knew in your soul that one thing remained the same....

Your love for Coco.

You parked in front of your parents’ home, letting out a sigh. Driving through Santo Padre, memories hit you left and right, thinking of shooting the shit with your cousins, sneaking out to smoke some weed at the outskirts of town around a bonfire. 

Santo Padre held such sweet memories for you, but they were also bittersweet. You passed by the park where you and Johnny used to play as children, your love for him growing from there. You passed by the elementary school where you and Johnny held each other down during the third grade, shared lunch since Celia was the worst fucking mother. You passed by the middle school where you realized you had a crush on your best friend. You passed by the high school where you and Johnny eventually grew apart. 

Coco, it was a nickname you fondly gave him, a nickname you made for him and it just stuck. You can’t even recall why you called him Coco, but here you two were now, apart and strangers. But you had to do what you had to do. Seeing Coco with another woman was hard enough, knowing they had a child? It was even worse. But in some ways, you were happy for Coco, it was his chance to have a family.

Even though your family was essentially his. Your parents adored Johnny Cruz. He was always so good with them, helped your mother whenever he was over, learned the ins and outs of car mechanics with your father. He was essentially an adopted son, but when you pulled away, your parents respectively did as well. 

You were startled by the knock on your window. You looked to the side and found your father, looking frailer than usual, but a bright smile still on his face. You returned his smile and quickly got out of your car. Feeling your father’s warm embrace, it made you regret not coming home much more often. You weren’t obtuse, you knew your time with your parents were slowly dimming, it was the harsh reality of life. But you were going to make sure your father was going to be healthy so he could come visit you as he intended to later this year for Christmas. 

“How are you?” You questioned as you pulled away.

“I’m fine, your mother was overreacting. I had pneumonia, it takes the wind out of you, but I’m feeling better. I even helped Coco with this car he got for his daughter.” Your father froze at his words and he sighed. “You know we’ve been talking to Coco.”

And you did, your parents were always honest with you and when you left, they rekindled their relationship with Coco. They excused that one kid was out of the way, at least they still had their other. It made your heart clench when they said that, it was even worse when your mother wanted to update you about Coco, but you refused. No matter how much time had passed, your love for Coco was still ever present, but you figured it would.

He was your first love, and you never had closure. 

“Pops, thanks again.” His voice made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, you almost felt embarrassed how juvenile it was. “Leticia should be coming in a few hours, if she gives you shit let me know.” He couldn’t see you since your father was blocking your way. As frail as your father was, he was 6′4, 250 pounds, he covered anyone. 

“Coco, you know Leticia loves us, she can be like you, but we’ve done well with you.” Your father moved to the side and Coco’s steps halted, stopping at the middle of the street.

“Hello Johnny.”

Coco blinked a few times as he continued to stare at you. The expression that was plastered on his face made him look like he had seen a ghost.

Your father cleared his throat and that seemed to snap both you and Coco out of your trance.

“I’ll be inside…oh and Johnny, Selena is making dinner tonight if you want to stay. It's homemade enchiladas.”

Coco let out a tiny groan that made your stomach clench as the sound made your thoughts darken to a more impure path.

You felt the blood rush to your face- you had not even been home for thirty minutes and you were already thinking about dragging Coco to your old room.

You took another kick to the stomach as you remembered that Coco never belonged to you that way, he never wanted you that way and he never would. In the past you had hoped, but almost a decade had passed by and he never bothered to reach out.

If he had truly had anything to say to you he would have at least sent you a damn text message.

“Yeah- yeah enchiladas sounds good pops… I just gotta call Letty.” Coco responded

Your dad waved him off.

“Nonsense, she is welcomed too. It’s a family reunion.”

You bit down in your jaw and tried not to outwardly cringe at your dad. He truly was making this more awkward than it needed to be.

“See ya kids inside” He said as he walked off.

Coco watches your dad for a second before he looked back at you. It seemed the initial shock had worn off because he gave you a small smile and shuffled over to you.

“Damn long time no see chica, how the hell have you been?” Coco asked

His voice sent goosebumps crawling up your arms and you couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread through your body as you locked eyes with him.

“I’ve been good, busy… but ya know. Good…..you? What’s um… what’s a Mayan?” You asked as your eyes hovered on the leather kutte he was wearing.

Coco glanced down at his kutte as if he didnt wear it all the time. His eyebrows furrowed before he looked back up at you and huffed out a nervous sounding laugh.

“Its a motorcycle uh club.” He responded

You leveled him with a look, half of you wanted to push him for more information because he was clearly hiding something, the other half just wanted to catch up with him like the old days.

“Ah… so what’s been going on with you? I see you’re still stalking my parents.” You joked as you moved to pick up your suitcase.

Coco laughed and moved quickly to scoop up your bag. As he took the handle in his hand, his fingers brushed over yours and it sent a shockwave through your body that you had not been expecting.

You let out a small gasp and Coco just stared at you with his intense, soul piercing gaze.

You swallowed thickly and moved around his body so that you could make your way to the house.

“I don’t stalk, I’m welcomed here. I’m like their son they never had.” Coco joked back

You snorted but didn't respond. How could you when his joke had landed harder than he had meant for it to.

“So you and Leticia are close huh…I’m glad to hear that Johnny. If I’m being honest I was worried about you… especially since I never heard from you after I left.”

Coco stopped walking and his actions halted yours. You glanced over your shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“What?” You asked as he stared at you.

“I’m sorry you know…. for like never reaching out. I-I figured you were out in New York doing big things and uh..I–I didn’t want to bring you down so uh, I never reached out.”

Your heart clinched at his words and you turned your entire body around to face him. Your feet began to take on a mind of their own and you found yourself walking over to him, stopping only when you were about a foot away from him.

“Johnny…seriously? You were my best friend, I cared about you, I could have never seen you as someone who would have brought me down.”

Coco dipped his head and stared at the ground in silence as he took in your words. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, but you knew you couldn’t push him, so instead you stood there in silence, waiting for him to respond to you.

You sighed, somehow you always found yourself waiting for Coco Cruz.

Coco knew you were waiting for him to respond. But where does he even begin? He was sorry he basically walked away from you after he met Alejandra? That he was sorry that he didn’t have the balls to talk to you? To reach out to you? That every day for the past decade, the itch to call, to text you was always great, but it heightened during your birthday or the holidays? It was acceptable to text people during the holidays with no pretenses besides the fact it was the holidays, but you were too special to Coco for that. 

And he was a fucking idiot. 

He didn’t know where exactly it went wrong. He just knew that after he met Alejandra, you ceased to exist in his life and he didn’t even know how to make it right. If anything, he didn’t want to make it right since he spiraled out of control. If Coco was going to ruin his life, he would do it on his own, he could never drag you down with him. It would kill him, knowing he was the reason you were stuck in this god forsaken town. He got out and came right fucking back.

But not you, you were Ms. New York now. 

Missing you never became easier, but it became easier to hide it. Though during the time he was intoxicated, where his inhibitions were low, he called out for you then, it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. You were the best part of his life and he was blinded by everything. In hindsight, he felt that he did it himself, to let you see your potential, but he couldn’t credit your greatness to him.

You’ve reached your dreams and it was further proof that you didn’t need him, that you were much better without him. 

You waited patiently at what seemed like forever, but Coco finally opened his mouth to speak. 

“Because after what happened, how I abandoned you during your time of need, I never forgave myself for that. You may not see me as someone who brought you down, but I did. Look at where you are now, if I stayed put, you would be stuck in this fucking town with me.” He grimaced, saying it aloud hurt him much more than he would like to admit. 

“What do you mean?” You were confused as to what he was referring to. High school was tough, but it wasn’t unbearable. 

“When your abuela died, I was so fucking high, you called me ten times and I didn’t fucking answer.” You couldn’t recall that day much, the only thing you remembered was your mother holding you, trying to soothe you the best you can. 

But you guessed that was when things changed for you two. You began to stop relying on Coco, replying to his messages, but not going out of your way to talk to him. It wasn’t all on him, losing your grandmother was hard on you and the following years went by like a breeze. You immersed yourself in school work because you knew she wanted you to further yourself. 

So you did. Trying to distance yourself from Johnny, find a way out of Santo Padre and make your grandmother proud, it was your driving force. 

“It’s fine Johnny shit happens.”

“Stop that, don’t brush it off like it didn’t mean shit.”

“It’s not that it didn’t mean anything, why am I gonna hold it against you that you had a life?”

“I was your best friend, but Alejandra just had this fucking hold on me.”

“She gave you the attention you wanted, can’t fault you for that.”

“What?” 

“Alejandra made you feel good about yourself, there was no pretense with her. She didn’t know you well enough so whatever you gave her, that’s what she knew about you. And she worshipped you, you were basically the greatest thing since eyeliner for her. Can’t fault you for that, you loved her.” 

Alejandra did a number on your relationship. She didn’t like how close you two were, boys and girls couldn’t be friends. They could be, but Alejandra saw how you looked at Coco and made it a mission to break you two apart. 

“I gave up Letty since Alejandra turned up to be the bitch you told me she was.” And he didn’t believe you then, he told you that you were just jealous because you had no one.

But you did have someone, you had him. When those words came out of his mouth, you realized you didn’t have him after all and it hurt you, but it pushed you away, just like what he wanted to do.

“I never cared for Alejandra, but I wanted to be there for you. You were my best friend, I could swallow whatever Alejandra threw my way as long as I had you, but you know, I didn’t.” The chuckle you let out, Coco could hear how forced it was, how you were trying to make light of the situation in some ways. “But, what’s done is done. I’m glad that you’re doing well for yourself Johnny. And it seems like you’re doing well with your daughter.” You offered him a small smile. “I always knew you would be an amazing father, you wouldn’t be like Celia or your deadbeat dad. My parents would have killed you.”

“It does matter, what happened between us, how much time I let pass, it should have never happened. It killed me that I couldn’t bite the bullet and just call you, shit,” Coco sighed. “You were the best part of my life, you gave me a family and you gave me a reason to keep pushing forward.”

“Let’s not dwell on the past, I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

If you were being honest, you just didn’t want to hash it out with Johnny in the middle of the street. Your neighbors were nosey and it was not needed drama. You also didn’t want to tell him that your mother kept you updated on the latest happenings of Johnny’s life. As much as you tried to defer, your mother knew you wanted to hear how your old friend was doing. You knew about Celia, his daughter, and how he was doing better, to some extent. You didn’t know what the hell the Mayans were, but from what you gathered, they were like a family to him. “You live across the street from my parents?”

“Yeah, your pops helped me out with it and it was easy cause I served.”

You nodded your head. “Son they never had.” You shook your head playfully rolling your eyes. 

Coco couldn’t help but look at your left hand and noticed that something was missing.

“Where’s your ring?”

At the mention of your ring your left hand clenched shut. You hid it behind your back and grimaced.

“How did you….” you asked trailing off “My dad talked to you about it??”

Coco sighed and nodded.

“He didn't mention that you broke up though… or why.” He stated

“I didn’t tell him! ” You snapped. Your ex fiance was a sore subject for you, especially since you had just called off the engagement a month ago.

Coco evaluated your body language… he knew you well enough to tell that there was a story there. He didn’t want to pry or upset you, but he also needed to know what happened.

“What happened Y/N?” He asked

“It's a long story.” You replies shortly. You didn't want Coco to find out the reason you dumped Adam. Besides, who was Coco to know practically everything about you when you knew nothing about the man he was today.

“I got time. Shit….its not like I live across the street or anything”

You rolled your eyes at his dry sarcasm as you messed with the finger that used to hold the diamond ring on it.

“It's nothing Johnny….turns out Adam wasn’t who I thought he was.”

Coco gave you that intense stare again and tgrb he smacked his lips together.

“He cheated?” Coco grilled

“Amongst other things.” You shrugged.

Coco took another step forward, effectively making the distance between your bodies smaller.

“What, is he a drunk? A liar? An addict? Controlling? Abusive?” Coco listed off all the reasons he thought you would leave someone over. He gauged your reaction for each one and then stopped when you flinched at the word abusive.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Coco growled. 

You watched his whole body transform in front of you. He went from soft and sweet to angry and murderous in two seconds flat.

You sighed as you ran a hand through your hair.

“It's over with Johnny.” You stated

‘The fuck it is!!! I’ll cut his hands off and make him eat them, then I’ll kick his ass, then I’ll kill him.“

You couldn’t help it- a chuckle escaped your lips and you shook your head. Maybe a normal person would find this declaration insane, but you knew Coco, and you found it charming that he was so upset and ready to commit literal murder in your honor.

“I’m fine Johnny, please…please just dont tell my dad. He’s already sick and I don't need him worked up over this.” You pleaded taking another step towards your best friend.

The muscle in Coco’s jaw twitched dangerously, and you knew he was still angry, but you also knew that he would keep this secret…for you.

“Fine….but lemme see this dick on the street. I’ll have him dead on the sidewalk in no time.”

You let out a loud laugh now and before you could stop yourself you threw your body into Coco’s surprised arms. Your chest hit his firm one first , and then after the shock wore off his strong arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you to him tightly.

His chin rested on the top of your head and you both took a moment to learn each other's new bodies. You breathed in his scent, a deep cologne mixed with cigarettes and leather. You memorized it and decided then that it was your favorite smell in the entire world.

Above you, Coco’s lips brushed your head as he kissed it gently.

“I missed you…” Coco whispered into your hair

“I missed you too…” you said without hesitation.

You could feel Coco’s lips pull into a smile before he placed another kiss on your head and pulled back to look at you.

“Listen mama, I gotta tell you something…. but you gotta hear me out and promise not to get mad, okay?”

You looked up at his worried face, and nodded in confusion.

“What is it Johnny?”

He inhaled and then slowly breathed out before the words tumbled out of his mouth like a stolen train.

“"After Alejandra I…I didn’t think I would fall for anyone again….she fucking wrecked me….but the day you moved away to New York was the day I realized how badly I fucked up. I..shit…I loved you more than anyone else and I didn’t even know it, shit maybe that was part of the reason she and I broke up, because I always loved you….. and I- I still do. Ya know….love you.”

You wanted to slap yourself, pinch yourself, anything that would give you painful stimuli so that you could wake yourself up. Were you still on the plane? Was the flight attendant about to wake you regarding your arrival to the airport?

It had to be a fucking dream.

For years, you’ve had different versions of this dream, you’ve had different versions as to how Coco would confess to you. One was back in high school, another one when he came to stop your wedding and another was during your Christmas visit, which was totally out of one of those Hallmark films. Regardless, you always thought it would remain a dream. That you would never hear such sweet words come from Coco.

Coco watched as you looked at him, speechless. Dread seeped in. Maybe it was too quick, this was your first meeting in so long. Maybe you didn’t feel the same way, he couldn’t blame you. What would you want with someone like him? Even his own flesh and blood didn’t want him. He was waiting for the let down, the ‘I’m sorry Johnny, I just see you as a friend’. He felt like he was taken back to high school, to where girls made him fucking nervous. But it was the worst with you because your opinion mattered most.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, you heard your mother shriek out your name. You turned around and caught her, wrapping your arms around her. She pulled away, pinching your cheeks before pulling you into her embrace again. Coco loved your mom but for once, he was not happy to see her.

“My baby is home.” She cupped your cheeks. She turned to Coco and she clicked her tongue. 

“Johnny, cut your hair, you look so unkempt.” She sighed. “Trying to make me bring out my scissors.”

Coco laughed and shook his head. “I told you mama, I like the wind blowing through my hair.”

“Stubborn as always.” She shook her head but had that smile she always had for Coco. “Come, I prepared snacks. And don’t you even try to get out of it, I had Bishop give you the day off so we can spend family time.”

It dawned on you that your parents were trying to set up a reunion between you and Coco. While your father was sick, he was fully recovering. Your parents were such meddlers.

“I know what you’re doing.” You informed your mother.

“What am I doing baby?” She looked at you with such innocence in her eyes, it almost made you feel bad about accusing her, but you also knew your mother.

“Don’t faux innocence with me, I see you.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at your mother.

Selena laughed. “I think you need more sleep.”

The day went off without a hitch and you met Coco’s daughter, Leticia. You were grateful that Leticia hardly had any of Alejandra’s features. She was definitely Johnny’s child. Dinner was served and the laughter and conversations you all had was nostalgic. You felt like a child again, enjoying dinner with your parents and Johnny. Having Leticia as an addition was even better.

“Are you sure you’re okay with watching her tomorrow?” Coco questioned as you two made your way towards the front door.

“Not at all, as much as I want to get my nails done, I do not want to do it alone. This town pounces on you.” You’ve been gone for quite some time, you knew the people of this town never forget and they would be on you regarding the various rumors they heard through the years. “See you tomorrow Letty!”

She waved goodbye, crossing the street to go to their home. Coco watched her till she was inside. He turned to you and smiled. His confession from earlier was still replaying in his brain but you two have had no moment alone. With your parents in bed, it was just you and Coco.

“This was nice.” You commented.

Coco nodded his head. 

“Yeah it was.” He didn’t want to keep you up, it seemed like you had a busy day tomorrow. 

“Good night preciosa,” it was Coco’s nickname for you and to this day, the butterflies in your stomach still went wild.

“Good night Coco.”

He smiled and turned to make his way to his own home. He wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his, but he didn’t even know how you felt about him.

“Wait,” you called out, going down the few steps on your porch. “About earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, I get it, you don’t feel the same way.” The smile on his face hurt you, it was the one he gave people to show he was okay, but he was hurting inside.

“I love you.” You didn’t beat around the bush. “It was the reason I worked so hard to leave because I couldn’t be in a place where I would have to see you be a family to someone who made it a mission to drive us apart. I couldn’t bear seeing you two together because Alejandra was right, I wish I was her, I envied her.” It felt good to let it out. “I love you Coco, I loved you then and I love you now.”

Coco froze and you watched his body transform as he took in your words. At first it didn’t seem to register with him, what you said, but then his eyes widened and a smile broke across his face making him look 10 years younger.

He let out a laugh and shook his head as he half jogged over to you. His hands came to rest on either side of your face and his thumb caressed your cheeks.

“Shit, we wasted so much time when we could have just been together.” Coco whispered

You shook your head and brought your hands up to rest on his forearms.

“We didn’t waste time Johnny, we were just getting ourselves together.”

Coco huffed but didn't disagree.

“Say it again…” He said in a way that sounded like both a command and a beg.

“I love you Johnny Coco Cruz.” You said softly while you absentmindedly traced this vein on his forearms.

Coco stared at you for two more seconds before he dipped his head and connected his lips to yours. His hands slipped down to your waist and he pulled you flush to his body while he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Coco kissed you passionately, aggressively and soft all at the same time. He took control of your mouth and he had no plans on giving it back.

Coco knew that if humans didn't need oxygen to breath, he would spend his entire life kissing your lips.

Butterflies flew in your stomach and goosebumps broke out on your skin as he traced your bottom lip with his tongue. You were trying your best to keep up with his energy but he was like a man starved.

He slowly walked you backwards, your back hit the side of your house and everything faded away. All you could focus on was Coco’s lips and how they felt so perfect against yours. His hard body was firmly pressing yours into the wall while his fingers squeezed tightly into your hip bones.

You bit down on his bottom lip and he let out a small groan. You shifted your body a tad to the left and felt a shift in the energy.

What was a simple sweet, much over do, was now quickly turning into a hot, desperate attempt to get each other in bed.

You gasped as you broke free of Coco’s lips. He tried to chase after you but you pushed him backwards by his chest.

“We need to get a room…” you laughed

Coco was quick to respond. Grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his house.

“Wait, letty….” you started

Coco ignored your question and gripped your hand tighter. He walked faster and you struggled to keep up.

The next thing you knew you were standing in Coco’s living room.

“LETICIA- I need you to leave. Go hang out with Gabi.” Coco yelled

You heard Letty open her door and listened as her footsteps made their way to the living room.

“Oh great, your having sex…. just use protection. You don't want another me.” Letty said before she smiled at you and brushed past her father.

She shut the door and left you and Coco in silence. A nervous energy washed over you as Coco leveled you with a look that sent your libido into hyperdrive.

“You sure about this?” He asked

You rolled your eyes, still surprised that he was questioning your intentions. You wound your arms around his neck and pulled him closer before you smiled.

“I’m 100% sure Coco.” You whispered before you brought his lips back down to yours.

Coco lost himself in you.

Years of longing, wanting, loving, it was all coming down. He was able to push all of this for years, fucking bitches didn’t require anything, just his dick to be hard. But with you, it was different, of course it was. He didn’t want to just devour you, he wanted all of you. The cries of pleasure, the feeling of your body in one with his, he wanted it all. He always imagined how it would be to kiss you, to be with you.

This was knocking every expectation out of the park. 

He’s never made love to a woman before and he knew if he ever did, it would be with you. For years, he wanted to contact you, to swallow his nerves, his fear, his pride, but now, the wait was well worth it. You were right, you were working on yourselves and now, he would never let you go.

He pulled you closer to him, one hand cupping your face, while the other rested against your hip. You couldn’t believe this was happening, whatever you imagined before, this blew it out of the water. You never felt this when you kissed your ex-fiance. This was something else, something more.

Coco lifted you up, carrying you to his bed, gently, he placed you down and reluctantly parted with you. He looked at you as your chest rose up and down, letting the oxygen trickle in once more. Removing his clothes, he left his boxers on, making his way over to you, causing you to move back on his bed. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, pulling you towards him. 

“These leggings are going to fucking kill me.” His hands moved up and down your legs, shivers going down your spine. You were wet, you’ve been wet, but the way Coco’s voice dipped a lower octave, the way his hand was just hovering over your clothed core, you wanted to scream. But you didn’t want to rush through it. You’ve only had a handful of partners and you knew Coco was the far more experienced one. 

He pressed two fingers against your clothed center and you let out a low moan, which in turn made him moan.

“Fuck, I’m never going to get tired of that.” Coco’s fingers went to the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down. He threw the article of clothing behind him while you took off your shirt. His eyes roamed around you, taking in every part of you. It made you flustered, flushed, and scrambled to cover yourself. He smacked your hands and made a ‘tsk’ sound. 

“Don’t let me admire my girl.”

You smiled. You were nervous, this was Coco. This wasn’t anyone else, this was Coco.

“Hey, don’t overthink it, just let me make you feel good ma.”

He crawled over to you, hovering above you, he kissed you once again, his hands were all over you. Wherever he touched, your skin burned in the most delicious way.  He slipped his fingers under the band of your underwear, teasing your aching pearl before slipping a finger inside you. Moaning into his mouth, you arched against him, one hand caressing his cheek, while the other slid down his stomach and inside his boxers. He groaned against your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock. 

“Fuck princesa,” you took your hand out of his boxers, spitting on it before putting it back inside, sliding your hand up and down his cock just as he added another finger inside of you. 

“Fuck Coco, that feels so good.” Your ex hardly provided foreplay. He lubed it up, condom on, and you two fucked. No emotions or regard for you, it was just sex. But this, this felt so much better. 

“Yeah, that pendejo didn’t know how to pleasure you?”

You shook your head, you let out a breathy gasp as his thumb made contact with your clit. You clenched around him and it didn’t take long for him to get an orgasm out of you. You whimpered, moving your hips down to meet the thrust of his hands. Before long, you were both naked, Coco slipping on rubber. 

He tapped his cock against your folds, the tip hitting your clit. You looked at how well endowed he was, which almost made you laugh. You always thought Coco was gifted, but to confirm that suspicion? It was fantastic. 

“You ready preciosa?” 

You nodded, never more ready for anything. He bent down and kissed the tip of your nose and then he slowly pushed the head of his dick into your wet, awaiting folds.

You let out a low, broken sounded moan. Seeing Coco’s dick had been one thing, but feeling it as it stretched you out almost to the point of pain was a completely different experience.

Coco’s left hand grabbed onto the sheets by your head and he clinched them while his other one stayed firmly on your hop- helping to ease him in without hurting you.

He was so close to bottoming out, but before he could fully set himself in you, bubbles of laughter started coming out of your mouth.

Coco moved his head so that he could look at you, his body hovered over yours and he froze, mid stride, with his dick more than 80% of the way in you.

"What?” He asked

You laughed again and pushed Coco’s stray hair behind his ear.

“My mom was right, you do need a haircut.”

Coco tsked and shook his baby hairs out of his eyes.

“Don’t be jealous because my hair is more luscious than yours.” Coco joked back

You laughed some more and Coco took this opportunity to push himself the rest of the way in you. Your laughing faded off and turned into moans and despite trying his best to make this all night, he couldn’t stop the quick pace he had set from happening.

His senses were overwhelmed by you, he wanted to fuck you deep and slow, but he also wanted to fuck you hard and quick. He wanted to kiss your lips, but he also wanted to kiss your neck and map out your entire body with his mouth. He wanted to intertwine his fingers in your hair and pull just enough for it to sting but not too hard to where it pulled out your roots, but he also needed to touch every part of you.

There wasn’t enough time.

He wanted all of you- he needed all of you but the way your warm heat wrapped around his dick and pulled him in was intoxicating him more so than any drug he had ever used.

“Fuck! You feel so good. I’m never letting you go again.” Coco said into your ear.

His breath ghosted across your skin but you were too blissed out to respond. One of your hands found their way into Coco’s thick hair and the other gripped tightly onto his forearm.

Your body bounced softly as Coco rammed into you. He kept pounding your G-spot over and over again to the point where you were now seeing stars. Your moans were now just whispers, and all you could say was Johnny over and over as if you were praying to him.

He lowered his head down and caught your lips with his. He kissed you once before you broke apart and simply breathed each other's air. Your lungs were burning and your breaths were coming out ragged.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, and despite never having sex with you before, Coco knew you were right there on the edge.

He gripped your body tighter and forced himself to slow down his thrusts.

As he did, you let out a needy whine which caused Coco’s heart to melt. Seeing how much you needed him was all he ever wanted from you. Selfishly, he wanted you to need him so that he could always be apart of your life

“Don’t worry preciosa. I got you.” Coco whispered.

His next movements were smooth and calculated. He pulled himself all the way out and before you could complain, he grabbed your legs and roughly flipped you over onto your stomach. His hands found your hips and he yanked them upwards so that your ass was sticking out and your head was down.

You glanced over your shoulder and locked eyes with Coco as he pushed back into your pussy. He let out a groan and your head fell back onto the bed. You gripped the seats as the muscles in your stomach clenched.

You were so close, so fucking close you just needed–

Coco knew what you needed. Fuck he always knew. He moved his body so that it draped over you more, and his long arm reached under you and his fingers found your clit. He began to rub on it and press down on it while he fucked into you with a precision that was blinding you.

Your body was overheating and shaking, your mouth was spilling Coco’s name along with a stream of cuss words and you knew that if you didnt come soon, you would die from overstimulation.

Coco let out another moan and he wrapped his free arm around your waist and yanked you up, making your back flush with his chest. The new angle caused you to let out a louder scream. Coco pressed on your clit harder and started licking at your neck.

It only took two more thrusts before your body broke. Your legs shook so badly that they threatened to give out on you, your moans suddenly cut off and your breath left your lungs. Stars exploded behind your closed eyes and you realized that this is what they talked about when people said orgasms were like little pleasure bombs.

Your body was lit up with ecstasy and you rode it for as long as you could before your limbs went numb and refused to hold you up and longer.

Coco eased you down onto the mattress, still on your stomach. He pushed your legs together and straddled you as he gently pushed on your lower back and fucked in and out of you.

“Shit Y/N. This pussy is addictive.” Coco groaned out

You pushed your ass back as best as you could- attempting to meet Coco’s rough thrusts head on. Based on the way he was moaning and cursing you must have been doing a good job, so you kept doing it until you felt his thrusts becoming shaky and uneven. The fingers on your back dug into your skin causing you to hiss in pleasure.

You turned your head to the left and let out some breathy moans.

“Johnny…I… I need you to come for me. Come for me please.” You begged

“Fuuuuck, you’re sinful as shit and I love it.” Coco groaned out.

He thrusted into you a couple more times before he stilled.

You couldn’t feel his seed due to his condom, but you could feel his dick pulsing in you and your needy walls contracted around him, begging him to rip that stupid condom off and fill you properly.

After a couple of minutes, Coco gently pulled out of you. You slowly rolled over and groaned as your back popped slightly.

You tracked Coco as he made quick work of peeling his condom off and taking it to the trash can in the corner of his room.

You sat up on your elbows and admired him from afar. You cataloged every tattoo and vowed to ask him the story behind each one.

“Imma add today’s date to them…” Coco said as he caught you staring.

“To what?” You asked in confusion as he made his way back over to you.

The bed dipped as he climbed on it and crawled in between your still shaking legs.

“My tattoos. I’m getting today’s date tattooed on me.”

“But…why?” You laughed out

Coco smirked and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“It's the day you and I changed forever. The day I got to be with my true love. Why wouldn’t i want that on my body as a reminder.”

#mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fic #mayans fanfic #coco cruz #johnny cruz #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz fanfiction #coco cruz imagine #whatupitsastarrynite

[shatouto]

YOUR BABY VADER IS SO GOOD I NEED TO GIVE HIM ALL THE HUGS. please tell me he gets like. a weighted blanket or soft clothes. or! or! or! anakin and obi-wan go to the market because nobody knows that anakin was vader, and anakin gets some nice clothes in pretty colors and theyre very soft and he gets some ingredients for cooking and droid parts to play with and everything is nice and good for him

GOSH thank you!!! aww i love that idea sO MUCH just reading your prompt makes me feel warm fuzzy inside. im not sure which baby vader you’re referring to (because there are so many of them in my wips and i love it) but i’ll assume this is the au ive been writing with @obiwanobi. so pls enjoy this near 2k of tooth-rotting fluff; i took some liberties

who likes sweet things

The clinic smells like bacta, as clinics do. But instead of sterile durasteel walls, the floors are carpeted and the walls are painted and the windows are curtained and everything is multicolored and joyful. Across from Anakin sits a healer - a kindly woman, very small in stature, with large, gentle eyes, wispy hair and pointed ears. She chats happily with Obi-Wan while working in tandem with the medical droid to secure the prosthetic to Anakin’s elbow.

“...disheartening, isn’t it?” She chirps, her three-fingered hands deftly fastening bolts around the cap and manipulating the droid to screw down the simple plating. “I can’t count the number of innocent civilians who have come here to fit a new limb. Just last week, I constructed an entire exoskeleton for this young lady. Poor girl, so young.”

“That is so good of you. I am glad for the young lady to find you. She came to the right place.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Those of us who have some sense all know Healer Saada’s prostheses are of the highest quality in all of Coruscant.”

“Ah, young man. Flattery gets you nowhere. Have you learned nothing as a youngling?” Saada shakes her head at the Jedi, then turns her great eyes to Anakin, ears perking. “And you. You’re a rather quiet boy, aren’t you?”

Anakin presses his lips into a tight, blanched line. This woman may not be a Jedi any longer, but she is not Force-blind. He glances to Obi-Wan, breaths bated.

Obi-Wan rests a hand on his shoulder. “He’s quite shy, Healer Saada. Please do not worry.”

“Oh, poor thing.” The healer hops onto a moving droid. It rolls towards the counter, where she sorts out some bottles while asking, seemingly in an absent-minded manner, “Where did he come from?”

Anakin catches his gaze the moment Obi-Wan looks at him. Obi-Wan parts his lips, as if ready to lie.

“Tatooine,” Anakin mutters.

Astonishment freezes across Obi-Wan’s face, and Anakin turns away. The admission isn’t for her, though he supposes he doesn’t mind her knowing. She’s just a person. She doesn’t even know his name, or what he has done, or what the dead Sith Lord has made Anakin do to earn his demise. Obi-Wan does.

“So far away!” the healer comments lightly, turning around with a soft smile. “What a great trip you must have made.”

“Indeed he did. He lives here now,” Obi-Wan clarifies. Anakin opens his hand, and the healer places a stretchy ball in it. She instructs him to practice squeezing it to get used to the new artificial limb, before sending them off.

They exit the clinic and out under a vast starlit sky. Gentle winds whirl overhead as they climb into their speeder, heading for the usual park where Anakin takes his walk. The night has gotten cold, yet the darkness is unusually diluted. As they pass by downtown, music wafts up alongside the scent of butter and frying oil. Anakin looks down to see a sea of lights over a town square, and colorful awnings draped over kiosks of all sorts. There seem to be many people there, eating, laughing, hand in hand. He eyes them closely, fingers tightening on the side door of the speeder.

“It’s a celebration, Anakin,” Obi-Wan supplies, as they come to a stoplight. Anakin turns around, and his heartbeat ratchets up when Obi-Wan reaches over to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.

“What are they celebrating?”

“Harvest season. It’s an old tradition, I’ll give you that. Coruscant barely has a greenhouse on it, let alone agricultural land.” Obi-Wan chuckles, then quiets down into a thoughtful smile. “Though I suppose the election result is as good of an occasion to celebrate as any.”

“Election?” Anakin asks, just as they pass by a great billboard with the face of a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman in a night-purple cape. The speeder is going slow enough for him to decipher the words written beneath it. Obi-Wan keeps saying he’s a fast learner, so he tries to read at every turn. “Chancellor… A-Ame…” He frowns. “Amidala?”

“Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle at him for a second before returning to the path ahead. “Padmé Amidala is the new Chancellor now. It was a rather close call. She is well-loved by many people, but not quite so in the Senate.”

Half of those words mean almost nothing to Anakin. “Why?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan hums. “One could say the Senate hasn’t been loving its people so much, in a while.”

Obi-Wan grows pensive, as he oft does. The faint, warm light from below and the cool starlight from beyond color him in an otherworldly tint. His profile is startlingly delicate, from the slope of his nose to the soft fluff of his whiskers and beard. Even the flutter of his lashes is graceful. Then Anakin remembers he shouldn’t stare. His eyes strays towards the bright lights and jovial music beneath.

“...But I am hardly brave enough for politics,” Obi-Wan muses, after a stretch of silence. When he looks Anakin’s way it is with some tiredness in his small smile. “Say, Anakin. How would you like to stop by the night market, for a change?”

They lower their altitude as soon as Anakin nods his agreement. Obi-Wan parks their speeder, draws up Anakin’s hood, and takes his right hand. Anakin’s synthetic nerves light up, even though it’s only enough transmission for him to feel touch and not warmth, it being a very standard model of prosthetic. His face warms up under the hood of his cloak. He’s glad Obi-Wan doesn’t notice.

They let themselves be carried by the stream of the crowd, of parents jogging after excitable children toddling about with sweetmeats in their hands, sugar on their cheeks; of young couples, one’s arm around the other’s waist, sharing bites of fluffy sweet bread or sips of mulled wine. Light shines golden and amber through bottles of syrup and jars of honey, glitters on the crystal sugar and drizzled glaze on heaps of candies in open boxes. The smell is divine whenever they pass by a warm stall with steam bannering overhead.

Anakin shivers lightly, even though the crowd blocks most of the winds. Obi-Wan tugs at his hand. “Let’s get you something warm.”

He follows Obi-Wan. A paper cup is pressed into his hand, ample and warm against his skin. The drink smells and tastes sweet with a note of toasted bitterness, the texture creamy and rich on his tongue. There are floating white chunks of some sort of confectionery in there.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.” Obi-Wan raises his identical cup and touches it to Anakin’s. “Do you like it?”

”Yes,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan’s smile warms his belly more than any hot drink.

They continue on their path, still a straight line from one end of the market to another. Anakin’s wide eyes travel from stand to stand: here a string of patchwork puppets, there a counter of carved wooden figures; and perfume vials, colorful figures (“It’s artisan soap, Anakin”), bouquets of everlasting tissue flowers tied in silk ribbons. There are clothes: soft robes in various colors, touted as “warm in winter and breezy in summer,” per the merchants; tunics with blossoming patterns embroidered at the collars or sleeve hems. There are kiosks of datatapes, illustrated by sparkling holograms of a High Republic castle, or a great speeder model, or even some holodrama character whose name Anakin can’t remember.

And then a booth takes his breath away. Glimmering under the light are shelves after shelves of mini household droids, custom-made transmitters, and a variety of artfully wired core processors. Replacement parts bathe in the blue glow of holograms depicting the corresponding droid models; and below all of this is a row of toolboxes of gleaming silver and shiny ivory, even iridescent inlays of mother-of-pearl. The booth seems to be one of a kind in the vast entirety of the market.

Anakin stands, transfixed. His fingers itch, and one of the tools begins to quiver and lift into the air, unbeknownst to the seller who has his back to it. He wants it. The thing will be his.

“Anakin? Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s hushed voice rustles by his ear, jolting him back to his senses.

The tool drops down with a small clang, barely audible in the noises of the festivity. Fear bursts coldly in Anakin’s chest - he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, his Master would be very unhappy if he found out his young foolish apprentice had tried to waste his time playing with droids again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, bowing his head, even as Obi-Wan squeezes his hand.

“Do you want that?” Obi-Wan asks, softly.

Anakin peeks up. The empty paper cup is still slightly warm in his hand, and he crushes it absentmindedly, tightening and loosening his fingers just to have something to do. “I, uh…”

Obi-Wan’s hand covers his own, gently prying the crushed paper cup out from the curl of his fingers. “I would love to get it for you, if you want it. It’s the toolbox on the bottom shelf, second from the left, isn’t it?”

The light on Obi-Wan’s smile is a honeyed gold, pooling stars into his eyes, and Anakin is transfixed again, not quite by the tinkering booth this time. He looks down as his face warms and his heart still pounds hard, and slowly he nods.

—

They come back to Obi-Wan’s quarters with a small armful: a new set of robes in muted, ashen pink; a box of tools with carved handles that are probably more fancy than they need to be, but still practical enough; a new array of spices and condiments; and a great tin of “absolutely decadent powder for drinking chocolate, Anakin, I can’t believe I let you persuade me into buying this.”

“You are the one who likes sweet things,” Anakin counters, arranging the new addition into their pantry. Obi-Wan laughs aloud by his side.

“Now how could you possibly know that?”

“I cook. I know that.” Anakin shrugs, and admits, “...and Ahsoka said so.”

Obi-Wan’s brows shoot up. He’s quiet for a few seconds, but the wide smile that follows only seems all the more brighter for it. “Best friends now, aren’t you?”

“No,” Anakin huffs and closes the pantry door. He doesn’t say more. Ahsoka gave him her old voicebook plug-in and lent him her comics; in exchange, he would pack her this spicy meat stew whenever she needed to leave for some time. They struck a fair deal, is all.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say more, either. They settle on the couch, Anakin almost rushing to fish out the toolbox from its paper bag. Finally having two hands to work with again, he examines it with zeal. It’s a good set of tools, he knows it; he hasn’t been allowed to touch these things for years, but he still knows. It’s in his blood. He can still wire standard circuit boards for protocol droids (the slightly outdated type) with his eyes closed; can definitely assemble a cleaning-type mouse droid from scratch if he’s allowed to scavenge for parts. He smiles down at the lacquered handles and the durasteel glint, picking up and balancing each microscrew, each hexagonal wrench, each tiny plier.

“...I hope it was enjoyable for you,” Obi-Wan speaks up, all of a sudden.

Anakin turns to him, not bothering to wipe off his smile. “It was.” He chews on the inside of his cheeks. “I’ve never had so many things. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan studies him for a long moment, more intent than he ever did. By the look on his face, Anakin expects him to say many things, but he doesn’t. He just pats Anakin’s elbow, where the prosthetic is joined, and murmurs, “You’re welcome.” His eyes have a moist sheen to them, smiling though he is.

#raised as sith anakin #always a sith anakin #obikin #shatou writes #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #it was fun writing this #i cant believe i wrote this in one go

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Baby, You Light Up My World

well I haven't done this trope yet...

sold to 1D au - modern au - absolutely a fluffy crackfic

I didn't do much editing, I just wrote this for funsies.

Please consider leaving me a comment since it is my birthday month. As both a bisexual and a Leo I desire nothing more than validation.

tw: mild panic attack

---

“Jaskier! You useless layabout!” his mother called from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here!”

The young man dropped the book he’d been reading and jogged down the staircase from his room to the main floor. “Yes, Mother?”

“I had to pay the bills after your father died mysteriously so I sold you online.”

“What!?” Jaskier gaped, jaw dropping.

“Yeah, and your new owners are almost here.”

“My new owners!? M-Mother, what do you mea-”

“Go upstairs and get your shit packed,” the frowning woman interrupted. She lit up a cigarette and rolled her eyes in obvious annoyance. “That doorbell is going to ring any minute now and then my problems are over.”

The shocked teen wandered back up the stairs to his room, where he packed his meagre belongings into his old summer camp duffel bag and laid his father’s old guitar gently in its velvet-lined case. His mind raced with questions. Would they be nice people? Would they be cruel? Would he be happier with these strangers than he was at home or at school? Who were they? Was this even legal?

Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the doorbell ringing. He grabbed his bag and his guitar and slowly made his way to the front door. His mother was chatting quietly with several people - men, judging by their low voices - and his heartbeat skyrocketed.

“C’mere, boy,” she ordered, snapping her fingers with impatience. Jaskier scurried forward. “Meet the people who are taking you off my hands.”

“Hello, Jaskier,” said a familiar voice. His head shot up, blue eyes wide and confused.

“G-Geralt deRiv!?” his gaze moved from one man to the next in quick succession. “L-Lambert… Eskel?”

It was his favorite band, Wolf Direction.

---

EARLIER THAT MORNING

---

“Why the fuck are you buying another band member?” Lambert asked, glancing over Vesemir’s shoulder to read his laptop screen. “Why not just hold some open auditions?”

“Because this is a fanfiction, Lambert,” their manager huffed. “And this is how Geralt and Jaskier's meet-cute has to happen.”

“Oh.”

---

BACK TO THE STORY

---

Lambert took his guitar and Eskel took his bag while Geralt herded Jaskier onto the large tour bus parked in his too-short driveway. Jaskier was still in shock; his limbs moved on autopilot as he sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch that stretched along one wall of the bus, beneath the tinted windows. Geralt sat beside him but kept his hands to himself, waiting for the old man with the mustache to speak first.

“Well hello there, Jaskier,” the stranger greeted warmly. “I know this is an unconventional situation but I wanted to personally welcome you to Wolf Direction. I'll admit that it's all a bit sudden and unexpected, but we needed someone with your gentle disposition to help balance out the boys and you're almost the same age, which is convenient.”

"I'm-" Jaskier blinked owlishly. "I'm joining the band?!"

"You're going to be the new front man," Lambert winked.

Jaskier, completely overwhelmed by the events of the past half-hour, passed the fuck out.

Geralt startled a bit as the brunette boy slumped against him and he gave Vesemir a worried glance. “What the fuck?”

By the time Jaskier managed to regain consciousness they were already nearly a hundred miles away. He sat up from the arm of the couch and stretched, listening as several places in his lower back popped into place. “Huhn?”

“Oh!” Eskel grinned, setting down his X-Box controller. “You’re awake!”

“And you’re Eskel.”

“Yeah… I sure hope so.”

“Cool.”

“Please don’t faint again!” Eskel pleaded, propping the smaller boy against a pillow and covering his lap with a blanket. “You scared the shit out of Geralt.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier blushed, allowing himself to be prodded and adjusted. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just been a very weird morning.”

“It’s going to get weirder,” Lambert added, slamming the bathroom door closed behind him. “Because now we have to know which one of us you’d like to bunk with. There are only four bunks and the bus driver has the couch.”

“Uhhh…” Jaskier’s eyes flickered between Eskel and Lambert. “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll take the floor,” Geralt offered, poking his head out from behind one of the bunk curtains. “He’s new and probably terrified. He’ll need more sleep than I do after the day he’s had.”

“I- No, it’s-” Jaskier tried to argue but none of the band members wanted to listen.

“Alright, floor for Geralt. Jaskier can have his bunk.”

Jaskier felt wrongfooted all over again. “Th-Thanks.”

“No problem. You any good at FIFA?” Eskel asked, offering Jaskier a second controller. The young man shook his head and settled back onto the couch.

“I brought a book,” he smiled timidly.

“Oh, you and Geralt will get along swell,” Lambert teased, tossing Jaskier the duffel. “The bus has been infested by bookworms!”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to read a book or two,” Vesemir said over his shoulder. “Might actually manage to fill some of the space between your ears.”

“Fuck off,” Lambert groused. He fumbled his way into his own bunk. “Let me know when it’s time to eat.”

Jaskier, still surrounded by a cloudy sort of surreality, opened his book and lost himself in the pages.

---

TWO WEEKS LATER

---

Jaskier had forgotten how much he hated thunderstorms. He whimpered as another loud bang shook the bus and rattled him in his tiny bunk. Thankfully the driver had parked them for the night, so he didn’t have to worry about crashing into a tree during inclement weather. He was worried about blowing away in the wind, however.

“G-Geralt?” he whispered, poking his head out from behind the dark curtain. Geralt blinked up at him from his air mattress on the floor, still mostly asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna share the bunk tonight? I-” Jaskier licked his lips anxiously and took a deep breath “I’m scared of the storm.”

“Sure,” Geralt lumbered to his feet and slid onto the twin-sized mattress next to Jaskier. Their legs were pressed together and their faces were only inches apart. “Sorry. Bit of a tight squeeze.”

“I don’t mind,” Jaskier muttered. He was glad that the darkness kept Geralt from seeing the way his face had gone red from being in such close proximity to his favorite member of the band.

He and Geralt had been dancing around each other lately - terrified of their very obvious and very mutual feelings for each other - and Jaskier was glad for an excuse to be near him again. Geralt spoke up again: “Scared of storms?”

“I used to have the attic bedroom at my house,” Jaskier explained, keeping his voice low. Eskel was right above them, snoring away. “And once, during a storm, a tree branch flew through my window. I haven’t been able to sleep through the sound of thunder since.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Geralt replied. One of his heavy arms came to rest over Jaskier’s ribcage, holding him without holding him; merely a comforting weight to settle his nerves.

“Me, too,” Jaskier smiled. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed his acknowledgement. He tucked the younger man’s head beneath his chin and started humming an actual tune, running through all of Jaskier’s favorite Wolf Direction songs until he started snuffling quietly. “Sleep, Jask. I’ll keep you safe.”

And he did.

---

TWO MONTHS LATER

---

"Thank you so much, Detroit, we loved being here!" Jaskier waved to the audience and let the microphone drop. He was panting for breath and sweat dripped from his bangs into his eyes, still... this was the happiest he'd ever been. Geralt wrapped a strong arm around his waist, waved to the screaming crowd one last time, and escorted Jaskier into the wings.

"You did great, babe," he smiled. Jaskier grinned up at him.

"Really?"

"You always do."

"You guys are disgusting," Eskel made a fake gagging sound.

"I think it's adorable," Lambert argued. They switched sides every week or so to keep things interesting. "They were made for each other."

"Whatever," Jaskier stuck his tongue out. "This is a found family strangers-to-lovers fic. We can do whatever we want."

"I want to kiss you," Geralt suggested. Jaskier grinned again.

"Sounds like a great ending to me!"

So they kissed, and it was beautiful and sweet and everything Jaskier had ever hoped for.

#crackfic #geraskier crack #witcher crack #geraskier fluff #fluff and crack #the witcher ficlet #geraskier ficlet #happy birthday to me #thank you hermit squad for enabling my gay ass #bouncey's birthday prompt celebration #bouncey's bday ficlets #geraskier nonsense #geraskier fic #geraskier modern au #wolf direction #sold to one direction meme

[oeakenshield]

long story below abt this old man in my building who fetishizes me and general vent about like being an asian woman in america lol.

thinking about this old man in my apartment building. building is divided into 4 sections with 6 apartments in each section, all sections are connected through the basement. the building overlooks a parking lot the tenants share. I'm in section C on the top floor and he's in section D on the second. sometime last year at night he came to my door and knocked and asked for help with his internet. i'm too nice and trusting of people so i agreed to come over and take a look. he was literally missing a whole cable which just didn't make sense then but unfortunately makes sense now. he wanted to talk about what ""kind"" of asian i am, where my parents are from, my """culture""" and shit like that. i entertain it because i feel sad for old people. finally i say idk i can't fix this sorry and go home. he gives me his card cuz he's a lawyer.

over the next several months i run into him in the parking lot maybe once a week. i usually tried to pretend i didn't see him purely from a "i don't want to socialize" standpoint. one morning, as i'm leaving for work, he comes outside a minute after i do and i don't make it to my car before he catches me and says hi. he's holding an small empty plastic trash can. we chat. he refers to me as "our asian guest" which. gross. eventually i say i have to go to work and while i'm in my car i watch him do literally nothing with the trash can and turn around and go back inside.

so at this point i'm pretty sure he's been watching me come and go to figure out my schedule and he times when he'll be outside to see me.

then a couple more months pass. it's maybe october 2021 at this point. i'm at home in a tank top and sweat pants because it's 9:30pm and i'm winding down for the night. i hear someone LABORING to come up the steps and eventually stop at my door. he knocks and it scares the shit out of me then i go look through the peephole and see it's the guy. i know he can hear my tv from the hallway so i decide to just see what he wants.

he's looking for his cellphone and asks me to call it. he says to wait a second while he runs back to his apartment to see if he can hear it. i say ok sure so he gives me his number but i download a burner phone app cuz i don't want to give him my real phone number. as he's leaving he tells me i look "wonderful" and that my boyfriend is "lucky." again, gross disgusting violating etc. i literally changed completely out of what i was wearing to something that covers me all the way up because i'm so grossed out.

so i call his number from the burner app, no pick up, 5 minutes later i hear him struggling up the stairs again. he says it's not in his apartment, but it might be in his car. it's about 10pm at night now. it's dark outside. i do not know this man and he's already made me comfortable. he offers to pay me $40 to go out in the parking lot and look in his car. i ask, there's no one home in your section that can help? what about the apartments below me? he said oh no ones home, i knocked but no one answered. but this is the kind of thin walled apartment building where you can hear everything--ESPECIALLY someone knocking on doors. i know he didn't know on anyone elses door. i very firmly say i'm not comfortable he says oh i don't want to make you uncomfortable so i said ok bye then and shut the door in his face.

i hear him finally go knock on someone else's door and a man helps him out and i guess his phone was in the car. but im still suspicious.

i reported the incident to the landlord immediately the next day because i was feeling very uncomfortable and violated in my home. the landlord tells me the guy has already come to the office and told him, and also tells me that he has autism so probably he just wasn't picking up the social cues. like sure. fine.

BUT i have not run into or seen this man a SINGLE time since this incident months ago. i like to think he is just being respectful of the boundaries i set which i can appreciate. i can sympathize with being unsure about social cues and such. i get it.

but. it was really really clear to me, and me alone, the male landlord didn't really get this, that this man had been targeting me because of some weird asian fetishization he had going on in his head. i could feel it every time he looked and talked to me and treated me like a foreigner.

and like the problem is that a lot of older white men like him truly believe that's an acceptable way to treat young asian women--as exotic specimens. like. fuck. the number of old white men who have come up to me to tell me about their asian wives. ugh. ugh ugh ugh.

i'm still bothered to this day that my landlord dismissed me so easily. like i think the man can be both autistic and a weird racist creep to me. am i crazy for that like. lol.

and it's really the fact that i haven't seen him at all that gets me, because it confirms my earlier suspicions.

i don't even want to say "idk i'm overreacting" because women are told and i WAS told i was overreacting!! but i still feel that way and i hate it!!! he made me uncomfortable and made me feel violated in my own home because he definitely saw me as a cute little asian sex doll. fuck. i hate it so much. do men not realize i can immediately sense when they're just talking to me for fetish shit?? because it's really fucking obvious. i'm just so sick of it.

#long post #uhhh idk if this needs a tw #i just can't stop thinking about this and need to share somewhere

[starlightrows]

Something Sweet

Chapter 3: Concerts and Cupcakes

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, Paz is a consent king, cumming outside (in this fandom? Shocking I know), swearing, angst at the end

Summary: You and Paz continue to spend time together and you have the misfortune of meeting “the guy” your friends warned you about... Gideon.

The following Tuesday you and Paz hang out with the group like usual, and give no indication that anything has changed or that you have plans to go together to the outdoor concert next weekend. But you can’t deny, you’re excited for it.

Finally Saturday rolls around. This time, you decide, it is a date. Or at least you’re gonna treat it like one. You pick a pretty sundress, comfortable shoes, do your hair and makeup. You also put a bag together with snacks, sealed mason jars with rum punch, a picnic blanket and a lawn chair.

Paz picks you up in his truck, and helps you load up your stuff into the back. He even opens the passenger door for you! The park is set up with a walking path, several meadows, sports fields, a playground and water feature fountain and an amphitheater surrounding a beautiful community center building.

The stage is set up for the outdoor performance. Community members and concert goer’s set up their picnic blankets and lawn chairs on the grassy slope of the amphitheater. Children run and play. Couples young and old share glasses of wine and snacks waiting for the concert to start.

After getting the blanket and the chairs set up, you pass him one of the jars of rum punch and sit back to chat and hang out until the concert starts. You take a moment to pause, and look about at all the happy people enjoying the warm summer evening and spending time with their friends, family, neighbors…

“This” you gesture with your hand “this is what I always wanted…”

Paz smiles warmly, sipping the drink you made for him. “Yeah, once you get a taste of living in a place like this… you can’t ever go back to living in crowded city where people don’t want anything to do with each other”

You chuckle “Or back to a rural town where your closest neighbor was a 10 minute drive away”

“I don’t know what sounds worse, never seeing anyone or being surrounded by people that act like you don’t exist” he shakes his head

“Well, I’m glad we both made it here” you say happily “because this is amazing”

Paz can’t hold back the smile on his face. Seeing you so happy and content, he can’t help but feel like the two of your were both meant to find this place.

The concert starts up, and the band is amazing! They play a lot of covers of popular music you hear on the radio and a lot of throwback music that used to be popular. Everyone in the crowd seems to know all the words. The band involves the crowd getting people to get out of their seats to singe and dance.

You feel alive and free, electrified by the familiar music and friendly atmosphere. You take Paz’s hand when a song you really love comes on, and drag him out of his seat to dance. He surprises you by offering almost no resistance and actually sings along with you. The two of you don’t sit down again until the concert is over, dancing and singing the night away.

When the concert ends, you’re a little bummed out it’s over. But Paz recommends that you stay a while in the park and let the crowds thin out before leaving, and you are more than happy to stay. The night air is warm, and the sun hasn’t quite set yet.

The two of you lay out on the blanket, folding down the lawn chairs to make room. Laying of your backs, you watch the sky dim. Turning orange, pink, violet and then fading to a deep midnight blue as the stars start to appear. He’s telling you an animated story story about him and Din pulling pranks and getting in trouble together as kids. You’re smiling and laughing, feeling incredibly warm and light.

Eventually he does have to drive you back to your apartment. He walks you to the door and lets you unlock it before you turn around. He’s standing close, very close.

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight” you say softly “I had so much fun”

He smiles, “Thank you for saying yes”

“Goodnight” you whisper leaning into him

“Goodnight” he closes his eyes and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He breaks the kiss, pulling back a little.

But you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him again. He responds in kind, sliding his large hands over your hips and holding you to him while he kisses you.

This time you break the kiss, pulling away and leaning your forehead on his. You push the door open behind you with one hand. You glance behind you inside, and back to him. A silent invitation. But he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Stay” you ask softly

That’s enough for him. He kisses you again, and walks you backwards inside. Closing the door behind him. He leans back against the door and pulls your into him, getting you to hop up and put your legs around him.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. Your soft lips, gentle hands, quiet breaths and moans as he kisses you. He wants this. He has wanted this. And the little sundress you’re wearing has only fanned that flame today. But still…. he has to be sure. He pulls back and bit.

“Hey, hey, hey” he whispers “tell me you want this. Tell me this okay?”

Your heart flutters. Surely he knows that you want him, but he wants to hear it. He needs to hear it.

“I want this Paz” you say, kissing him again “I want you”

He squeezes your hip, and kisses you again. You drop your legs back down, and lead him back to your bedroom. Pulling him down onto the comforter with you.

His hands roam over your body catching at the hem of your dress, and sliding up along your thighs. You hum into his mouth, and slide your hands under his shirt. You pull your hands back and lift your hips and then your back, to help him get your dress worked up over your head and arms.

He reaches back with one hand, and pulls his shirt up over his head and drops it down on the floor with your dress. You shiver a little, taking in his broad bare chest and well muscled forearms. He on the other hand is lovingly gazing down at you. Soft skin, gentle curves, pretty… matching… panties and bra.

He leans back down, eager to feel your soft skin against him. His hand smoothes over the material of your bra, fingers trailing over the edge and slipping down underneath. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands are firm and worn, textured against your supple breast.

“Still okay honey?” He asks, moving his lips down to kiss your jaw and down your neck

“Y-yeah” you run your fingers through his thick dark hair as he kisses his way down to your collarbone, still tenderly stroking and squeezing your breast.

He kisses all the way down to your breastbone, and slips his hands around your back to undo the clasps of your bra. Sliding the strap over your shoulders and carefully tossing it away with the rest of your discarded clothes. He cups both in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your nipples, and brushing his nose over your soft skin. Slowly kissing his way up the slope of one of your breasts, he tilts his head over and draws your nipple into his mouth sucking gently.

“Beautiful” he mutters pulling off and switching to the other, “so beautiful”

You try your best not to squirm in anticipation, but Paz notices.

“You getting wet for me sweetheart?” He purrs, his hand leaves your breast and trains down to stroke you through your panties finding them slightly damp. “Oh love, do you like when I touch you?”

“Yes” you shutter out “Paz… please”

“Don’t worry gorgeous, I’ll give you what you need” his fingers dip below your panties, and slide between your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut. His fingers move with ease, aided by your slick. He stops for just a moment, to help you shimmy out of your panties, before he goes right back for your wet heat. He pushes in a finger and swallows your breathy gasp with his own mouth as he kisses you. His pace is slow, for now curling his finger within you. He adds a second finger stretching your opening a bit wider, relishing your soft moans and whimpers of pleasure.

You flinch, and cling to his arms in a reflexive movement as this thumb swipes over your clit and begins rubbing in circles. He picks up the pace, building you up quicker.

“There you go honey, my fingers feel good?” He huffs

“Yes… Paz… feels so good” you moan “please”

“Come on sweetheart, come on my fingers” he keeps up his pace, putting more attention into stimulating your clit.

The pressure builds up, every pass of his thumb over your clit seems to wind you up tighter until finally it snaps! Washing over you like a tidal wave, leaving your breathless and soaking.

He kisses you again, and begins stroking through your folds again, allowing you to ride out waves of your orgasm. You kiss him back, when your senses return to you a moment later.

“How is it that I am completely naked and boneless in pleasure, and you’ve still got pants on” you joke “doesn’t seem fair”

He chuckles and pulls back, going to undo his belt. You sit up with him, seeing the tent in his pants and moving to help him shed his jeans.

He steps out of his pants and boxers, and stands before you, hard and dribbling precum. He’s massive. Granted, he’s a big guy, you figured he would be proportional… but he is impressive to say the least.

“Not to give you an ego, but holy shit” you chuckle, making no attempt to hide your gaze.

How can any man hear that, and not have a bit of a head rush? He grins. “You like what you see sweetheart?”

“Get over here” you laugh, reaching out with both arms. He obliges you, and let’s you pull him down again to kiss. You can feel his cock pressed against you, insistent and aching. You roll your hips against him, teasing… inviting.

“Your turn” you whisper, reaching down and lining him up with your entrance. This time his breath hitches, he’s rather worked up and it’s been a while since he had a partner.

As he presses in, your warmth consumes him. Your walls are tight, velvety soft, and wet. He grunts a bit and he pushes forward, watching himself disappear within you. You moan too, the stretch is delicious and pleasant.

He sets a steady pace, drawing your legs up, placing one hand at your hip and the other above your head.

“You okay?” He grits out, always so attentive

You moan in response, “Yes, you can go a little faster, I’m good”

He follows your direction and picks up his pace, taking your moans and pleas fore more as guidance. He’s pounding into you, and groaning.

“Close” he grits out “where?”

“Outside” you gasp “anywhere you want”

He gets in a couple more good thrusts before he abruptly pulls out and jerks himself off, spilling his load over your stomach.

Having just came his mind is clear, and his body is calm. He realizes he finished before you could come a second time, a fact that he remedied by pushing his still hard cock back in and resuming his pace and dropping a hand down to rub your clit.

“Come on gorgeous” he praises “one more”

He’s getting a bit over stimulated, but he pushes through for you. Your orgasm is white hot, and searing. Unlike the first that crested like a wave, this one explored like fireworks behind your eyes as your cum on his cock.

You lay together for a couple minutes, breathing heavily, and savoring the postcoital bliss. You reach out, and lace your fingers with his. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

“The concert next week is supposed to be smooth jazz” he chuckles “any chance you’ll let me take you on a second date?”

You laugh and lean over, and kiss his cheek. “It’s a date”

In the weeks that follow you and Paz continue hanging out with your friends on Tuesday nights. Going to the outdoor concerts on Saturday nights, and now going back and forth between each other’s apartments for dinner after work. Watching movies together, testing new recipes, learning new baking techniques and of course enjoying each other in the bedroom.

At first you both agreed not to tell anyone in the group. It’s a new relationship, and you didn’t want to get teased or asked a thousand questions. You just wanted to enjoy it, and each other. But as summer drew to a close and the chill of fall started turning the leaves and picking up the breeze, you couldn’t pretend or deny it anymore.

Of course literally everyone already knew or had their suspicions. What kind of people spend that much time together outside of work, aren’t in a relationship?

———

A few weeks into September you’re working on making new macrame plant pot holders during one of the slower parts of the day and listening to quiet music, humming along as you work. When the door opens and the bell tinkles to alert you. You look up, smiling at your customer. An older man, with a dark complexion, thin mustache, and an unsettling smile. Nevertheless you’ve had stranger clientele before, and you treat them all the same.

“Hello, can I help you find something today?” You greet him

“No, actually I was hoping that I could help you” he says approaching the counter.

“Oh? And how is that?” You have a bad feeling about this.

“My name is Gideon” he introduces himself “and I have a vested interest in the economic and cultural growth of this city”

Gideon. That name rings a bell. This is the guy your friends had told you about. You square your shoulders, stand your ground, and keep a neutral expression as he tries to dazzle you with ideas of “the city of tomorrow”.

“Of course, to make all of this come true all of the buildings in this area would need to be cleared and updated. I would love to make you an offer for your storefront, upto and exceeding ten fold what you paid for it”

“Mr. Gideon” you cut him off “it may surprise you to know that I am already fully aware of your vision for this city. What you seem to fail to realize is that no one that lives or works here shares your vision”

“That’s where I believe you are mistaken little girl, there are many who think this city has great potential” he says calmly “I know this city can be more than what it is now. I know it and I want it. Believe me, I get what I want”

“Unfortunately for you Mr. Gideon, you do not get to make those kinds of decisions. And no one will sell out to you to turn our dreams into your profit” you’re getting irritated now, and just want him to leave. You really want to call Paz.

“I could make you a rich woman. I am not the only one that would benefit from this change” he tried to persuade you

“Money can’t buy happiness Mr. Gideon. I worked my whole life to be here, and I am happy having my business here. And I will continue to be here as long as it makes me happy. Come Hell or high water I will stand” you say with confidence and surety, almost daring him to challenge you again.

Finally he backs off, but insists you take his business card… “In case you change your mind, or you find your business no longer makes you happy”

The second the door closes behind him, you grab your phone and call Paz, asking him to come over to your shop as soon as he can when he’s done closing. I Gideon gets in a sleek black car, and speeds away just as Paz comes through the front door.

“You okay?” Paz asks, coming behind the counter. You peer out the window and watch the car make the right hand turn off of the street.

You’re frustrated and upset, you gesture out the window with one hand and smack the other down on the counter.

“You guys warned me about they guy Gideon, but you didn’t mention how much he would infuriate me” you grumble

“Gideon was just here?” Paz asks

“Yeah, came in here preaching about how he’s going to transform this city and make us all fabulously rich,” you tell him “when you know good and well he would cheat us out of every penny he could”

He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You told him to fuck off right?” He asks

You wrap your arms around him too, and lean your head on his chest “Pretty much. I worked too long and too hard to get here to give it up”

“Good” he says “A guy like him will never understand why we do things the way we do. Your flowers and my bread are more than just…. things for others to buy for us… he’ll never understand something like that”

That’s exactly right. Boba has his pub. Din has his tattoo shop… everyone worked hard to get what they have, and it means something to each of us. Men like Gideon will never understand that.

About a month later, the weather has turned cold and the days are getting shorter. You and Paz have been making plans for Halloween, and working on fall flavored treats for Paz’s bakery.

But tonight you are over at his apartment, baking cupcakes, watching YouTube videos and practicing frosting piping techniques.

You’re sitting on his countertop, giggling and licking frosting off your finger tips when your phone starts ringing. You grab a tea towel and wipe off your hands to answer the phone.

“Hello” you answer, still smiling and stifling a laugh. Paz contains his own laugher so you can hear whoever in on the other end of the line, and bends down to check on the next batch of cupcakes baking in the oven.

“Wh-what?” Your voice is horrified. Paz looks up at you still sitting on the counter. Your eyes have gone wide, and he can visibly see your body language change.

He stands up quickly and wipes off his hands too, giving you a questioning look.

“We’ll be right there” you say in grave tone “thank you”

Your hand drops down into your lap.

He stands before you, trying to get your eyes to focus. He says your name once, twice… he shakes your hand a little

“The fire department” you say “my store front…. burned down”

Something Sweet Tag List: @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet @blackmarketmummy

#Paz Vizsla x reader #Modern!Paz Vizsla #Pastry Chef!Paz #Something Sweet #Pastry Chef!Paz AU #Modern AU #Paz Viszla #paz viszla x reader #Paz Vizla #paz vizla x reader

[thestarsarealigning]

The Signs and what they love about people

Aries Seeing people in a rush on their way to work, doing their lipstick on the train or putting in earrings while walking. When your best friend is really feeling themselves with a new haircut. When it's the first real warm day and you see schoolgirls going to the park together, a spring in their step. Being on a night train and looking to all the bright orange windows on the road, passing by, so many strangers with so many lives of their own.

Taurus When you go to the market on Sundays and you see the old lady bickering with the boy selling oranges, but it's in a friendly way from both sides. Going to a bar and seeing how the waiters joke with each other. Someone on a lonely bikeride to work, looking up at the sunrise. A man buying shoes for himself and not being sure about his choice, so he asks the seller for their opinion. Looking at a lover while they look into the sky.

Gemini The way an old friend hugs you when you haven't really been in contact for a year, but now it's just like nothing has changed. Seeing older siblings caring for their younger ones and being playful and nice with the little ones. Seeing someone checking themselves in a parking cars window. People carrying a bag for someone near them who clumsily searches for their keys. Getting ready for a night out together, trying that risqué eyeliner and hyping each other up about it.

Cancer people reading the paper on the underground, rather than checking their phone. Your mom calling you to check up on you when she knows you have been stressed lately. People closing their eyes when they feel the grass of a meadow under their bare feet. Someone really enjoying a car ride outside of the city with the wind in their hair. People overcoming their fears.

Leo when someone is crying on public transportation, but they're with a friend, and you can see them comforting each other and being there for one another. On a first date, when one person awkwardly jawns to put their arm around the others' shoulders. Grown adults wearing daisies in their hair. People spontaneously deciding to change something about their appearance, maybe their hair color or a new tattoo. When the secretary of the dentists office is efficient and friendly and professional all at the same time.

Virgo people giving up their seat for pregnant people in the bus. Park rangers all silent in their work, until someone asks them about an animal they find really cool, and then they can't stop blabbering on about that animal's quirks. When someone gets a coffee or tea for you and gets your order just right. People standing up for each other in front of bullies. When someone packs a picknick for you and remembers everything you prefer to eat and everything you don't.

Libra a daughter laying her head on the shoulder of her father tiredly. Someone greeting their dog at the door. Recognizing someone's voice across the room and feeling your heart jump a little before you go up to see them. Someone folding laundry in the garden and humming a song. Little children dressing up in their grandparents clothes.

Scorpio people recognizing each other in the library, silently stopping by and giving each other little notes of encouragement to keep on studying hard. How all the people kind of become one big movement in a club when everyone dances and jumps. How your bestfriend prepared you a birthday breakfast. Women playing with each other's hair. All the flat mates coming together by chance and sharing lunch, each eating their own meal, but they all sit together. How sometimes when people are up on a high balcony, they put their legs through the balustrade, swing them, and look down at the world.

Sagittarius people that search for their glasses, only to realize they've been on their head the whole time. People tiptoeing around a baby's room to not wake them up. Snapping a candid photo of a friend and looking at it years later, still remembering exactly how you felt at that moment. Young adults helping their elderly neighbors and carrying their shopping. How in early summer, your best friend gets freckles again. The feeling when you realize a good friend is more than just a good friend.

Capricorn students silently reading together in a park, but sharing a box of cookies. Teenagers joyful on a swing set together, as if they were 10 years younger. Your grandma preparing a dish for you and making sure it's vegan, even though that's hard for her. People sitting together in a café and getting coffee before work. Smiling at a stranger on the bus and them smiling back. Complimenting someone on their style or a brave makeup look.

Aquarius people carrying big bouquets of flowers on the street. Train drivers waving to each other when they pass. The pause before you kiss someone for the first time. When someone says something really stupid in class, and you share a look across the room with your best friend. When people bounce to the sound of their headphones on the street. Getting to know someone new and already planning all the things you could do together in your head. These people you only know from yoga class, you're from different worlds, but it's always nice to have a quick chat.

Pisces A kid attempting to wink, but it looks a little strange. People who are on the phone with each other to find each other in a crowded place, then they see each other, and stay on the phone still while running towards each other. Big families in a supermarket when no one is stressed and they just get the grocery shopping done together. When you drive to the sea with a friend, that moment when you all just jump out of the car, get off your shoes, and run towards the sand.

#Check your sun sign! not rising :) #I really enjoyed writing these I hope they resonate with you #Signs #The signs #Star signs #Astro #Astrology #Daily horoscope #Daily astrology #today's horoscope #the stars are aligning #aries horoscope #taurus horoscope #unusual horoscope #whimsical #Gemini horoscope #people #Cancer horoscope #Leo horoscope #Virgo horoscope #Libra horoscope #Scorpio horoscope #sagittarius horoscope #Capricorn horoscope #aquarius horoscope #pisces horoscope #aesthetic #Zodiac signs #writing #poetic astrology