#There probably won’t be two a day anymore because I was bored yesterday and wanted to write because I like seeing the little number pop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places. “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

4K notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

Wanda x Reader - You’re the only exception

Gif is not mine.

Prompt from anon: “Childhood best friends, and reader is basically a fuckgirl who’s only soft for her childhood best friend wanda, they’re constantly teasing and flirting with each other but they never take each other seriously and then something happens and reader gets jealous and realizes she’s fallen for wanda and then she tries to go for it but wanda doesn’t take her seriously bcs she’s a fuckgirl and a player. “

Words: 4.964k ////// Read on AO3

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, but its mainly fluffy

You wake up with an arm around your waist. Squinting slightly, you look around the room. You think you are in a warehouse, probably the one near Avenue Two, a few meters from the bar where you were last night. You don't know who the girl next to you is, but she is pretty. You didn't ask her her name when you danced with her, and she didn't ask yours when she dragged you here.

You remove your arm from around your waist and stand up, looking for your clothes. Judging by the brightness entering the room, it is morning. And you groan slightly, thinking that your parents are going to kill you.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you put on your pants and reach for your cell phone. The screen is glowing with several missed calls and voice mails. You roll your eyes impatiently at your parents' controlling mania.

- Were you going to sneak out? - said a female voice startling you slightly. The girl you were lying with woke up, and was sitting up in bed, her tone slightly ironic.

- No, I was going to leave a note. - You lie with a smile. And then you make your best sad expression. - I really have to go.

- My friends told me you were a player, I should have known you'd do that. - She replies without really looking upset.

You let out a dry laugh, finishing buttoning up your shirt and putting on your sneakers. She waves her hand and smiles as you leave the room.

//-//

You definitely need a cup of coffee. So when you leave the unknown girl's apartment, you look for a coffee shop. Entering the place, you sit at the counter, unlocking your cell phone to read your pending messages.

- What can I get you? - Someone asks and you raise your eyes, blinking slightly as you notice the attendant. You smile at her as she says.

- Your number.

She looks surprised, but smiles shyly, and then you tell her your actual order.

When she brings you your pancakes and a coffee, a piece of paper with her number on it is on your plate.

You eat while checking your cell phone, and from your instagram feed you find out that yesterday's party was amazing, and that your best friends had moved the celebration to a parking lot when the police asked them to turn down the music in the house. Yesterday had been Steve Rogers' birthday, but you couldn't make it because you went to a rock concert at a bar, and you actually had plans to join the party, but got involved with a girl and never showed up. You hoped Steve wouldn't mind.

Finishing your coffee, you smiled at the paper with the waitress's number on it before putting it in your pocket, and leaving the place, you probably weren't going to call.

//-//

Your mother is furious when you come home. She screams, and accuses. And you roll your eyes, drop your keys on the counter, and slam your bedroom door as you enter. You shower, and change into more comfortable clothes, and then escape through your bedroom window.

Within two minutes you are at the house of your neighbor and best friend, Wanda Maximoff. You climb up the wall ledge into her room, and tap on the window to get her to let you in.

- Hey, Romeo. - She mocks your position as she opens the window, you laugh lightly as you enter the room.

Wanda sits back in the chair at her study table while you throw yourself on her bed.

- Where were you last night? Steve asked about you at the party. - She says, glancing quickly at you before returning to writing in her notebooks.

- Wanda, darling, I love Steve. - You say. - But between him and a hot girl, which one do you think I'll choose?

Wanda laughs, making a wry expression.

- I should know.

- Is that jealousy? - You scoff slightly, making her laugh again.

- You wish.

And then there was a knock on the door, and Pietro, Wanda's twin brother, entered the room.

- Wanda I need to... Oh hello. - The boy smiled at you charmingly, and you just raised your middle finger at him, making him laugh.

- What's wrong Pietro? - Wanda asked.

- I need you to give me a ride. - He says. - Daddy won't let me drive because of detention.

You giggled lightly, remembering that Pietro was grounded for fighting at school, and almost got suspended. You know because you spent a lot of time with the twins. Wanda lets out an impatient sigh.

- Where to?

- I have practice today. - He says shrugging, and Wanda frowns.

- It's Sunday. - She replies suspiciously.

- Oh, Wanda, come on. Please. - He asks, and Wanda rolls her eyes.

- You'll owe me.

She says as she gets up and Pietro leaves the room excited.

- Are you going with us? - she asks you, but you lazily deny it.

- Thanks, but I'm going to get some sleep.

- Make yourself comfortable, just close the window when you leave. - She tells you, and then leaves the room.

You decided to sleep in your own bed, the smell of Wanda's shampoo on the pillows was distracting you for some reason.

//-//

Mondays were horrible. You dragged your feet toward the school entrance, wishing you could go back to bed. Your first period was history, and you were already sleepy with anticipation.

You barely stepped onto the school grounds when Tony Stark threw his arm around your shoulders, greeting you.

- You are completely crazy! - he remarked with amusement. You blinked in confusion, and he laughed. - I told you that girl was taken.

You really weren't following the story. You reached your lockers, and Tony let go of you just as Steve and Pietro reached you.

- What girl are we talking about, anyway? - you asked as you searched for your books.

- Romanoff, smartass! - Tony replied leaning on the locker beside him. - Someone saw you go down on her in the outdoor patios, and everyone is talking about it. - He tells you, and you giggle.

- And this is a problem because why exactly? - you replied with irony.

Tony laughed incredulously. Steve and Pietro listened to the story with amused expressions on their faces.

- I don't know, actually. - He says. - But I don't think her boyfriend will be happy to find out.

- That's really not my problem. - You reply with mock amusement. And then you finish taking your books and close the locker, turning to Pietro. - Where is Wanda, anyway? When I left home, you guys weren't outside.

Pietro chuckles.

- You were late. - he retorted. - We went ahead, and Wanda is probably talking to the coach.

The bell rings and you grumble, saying goodbye to your friends, since you don't share the same history class. You have been used to going to school with Wanda every day since the first grade, and you don't understand why you missed that brief moment so much this morning. You imagine that it is just the usual.

//-//

You only meet Wanda in the third period of the day. She is distracted, and you are curious.

You walk over to her desk, and she is smiling at her cell phone screen.

- What's with that smile? - You tease, and she immediately blocks the phone, putting it on the table, and making you look at her suspiciously.

- I don't know what you are talking about. - She replies in a tone of embarrassment and mockery.

- My God, you're sending nudes, aren't you? - You exclaim in shock, and Wanda blushes slightly as she laughs, and you sit down beside her.

- You're the worst. - She retorts, looking forward.

- But I'm hot.

You tease, and Wanda rolls her eyes laughing again. You don't talk anymore because the chemistry teacher walks in next, and he hates talking in his class.

//-//

You are bored while listening to the health presentations from last term. You were the first to present, accompanied by Tony and Pietro, because you really wanted to finish this work soon, and now you were leaning over your desk, trying to stay awake while the other students were talking.

Tony patted you on the shoulder to get your attention, and motioned to your left side. You frowned, and then looked up to where he was talking.

It took you a moment to realize that at the two tables after yours was a student with her hand down the pants of the student next to her. You held back a laugh, looking away immediately.

- No fucking way. - You commented to Tony, laughing softly.

The professor asked you to be silent next, but you and Tony lowered your voices as much as possible to continue whispering.

- That's Valkyrie and Thor. - He tells you. - They hang out with the bikers kids.

- They'll be expelled, that's for sure. - You reply with irony.

But then the teacher says he will lower the grade of whoever is speaking and you sigh impatiently as you decide to be quiet.

//-//

Wanda is hiding something from you. And she has disguised it very well, because none of your friends have noticed her strange behavior. But you do notice. You notice her distraction, the way she is even longer on her cell phone, or how she has been sneaking out between cheer practice and class, and when you ask, she just says that she was studying in a quieter place.

But it is Friday, game night, and you will have to find out what this is some other time. You put on the helmet of your uniform and walk onto the field, listening to the excited shouts of the crowd. American football games were very crowded, even if they were not the playoffs.

Tony and Steve greet you with a pat on the shoulder as you join the circle of your teammates along with the coach.

- Are you ready, tigers? - she shouts to you after reviewing the moves one last time.

- Yes, coach! - You and the team shout in unison, and move into position.

When you score the winning touchdown, the team lifts you up in the air as the crowd screams and celebrates. And you are laughing and raising your arms, and your gaze falls to the cheering area, looking for Wanda. And then your stomach drops when you see her, wrapped in a kiss with a boy you don't know.

And you don't understand the feeling that settles in your stomach, so you kiss the first girl who smiles at you, hoping that the feeling will go away. And it doesn't.

//-//

Everyone is saying that Wanda Maximoff kissed a boy at the game on Friday, when you arrive at school on Monday. You didn't come to school with the Maximoffs again, nor did you talk to Wanda all weekend.

You eventually find out that the boy is called Vision, or Vis, and is probably going to become the next millionaire in the country with a genius invention. He is part of the science club, and the debate club, and you have never met him. And then you are putting your books away quite hard on your locker, and Steve looks at you curiously.

- What did the locker do to you? - He teases.

- Bite me.

Your harsh answer makes Steve laugh, and he doesn't press. And then you're walking toward biology class, and the same girl from the game stops you in the hallway. You think her name is Pepper.

- Hey, can I talk to you? - she asks with mischief in her eyes. You knew that a conversation was not what she wanted. And you took one last glance into the room, catching a quick glimpse of Wanda smiling at the phone screen, before nodding in agreement, letting the girl drag you into the nearest bathroom.

//-//

You don't return until second period, and you wait for the teacher to go to the bathroom before sneaking into the room, and throwing yourself into the chair next to Wanda.

- Shit, you scared me! - She remarks when you suddenly arrive. You laugh lightly, throwing the bag on the desk. And then Wanda looks at you with a mixture of mockery and incredulity. - I was going to ask where you were, but I think I have my answer.

You look at her confused, and then she turns to her backpack and pulls out a small mirror, handing it to you. You giggle when you see your reflection, lipstick marks across your collarbone and cheeks, and your lips slightly swollen. A few open buttons in your shirt too.

You try to fix your appearance quickly, and return Wanda's mirror when you are finished, but she doesn't even look at you.

And then the professor is back, and Wanda is distant, and you ignore the discomfort in your stomach.

//-//

You know that you need to talk to Wanda. You don't understand why she is distant, and why she won't talk about her new relationship. And then you are at her window, shortly after she has come home. She frowns in surprise to see you, but she opens the window and makes room for you to come in.

- Is everything all right? - she asks, sitting down on the bed. You hesitate, standing in the window space.

- Is something happening, Wanda? - you ask. - You are hiding things from me. Have I done anything wrong?

Wanda looks away quickly, moving her hands nervously. And you run your hands through your hair.

- I'm sorry. - She says looking at the floor. - I... I didn't know how to tell you.

- You can tell me anything. - You assured, coming over and sitting next to her on the bed, while entwining your hand in hers.

Wanda smiled, looking up at you.

- I met someone. - She tells you, and you keep your face impassive, ignoring the uneasy feeling growing in your stomach. - And it's recent and all... but it' s good. Vis is sweet, and kind. And I think I'm falling in love with him.

You nod, forcing a smile out.

- That's amazing, Wanda! - You hear yourself say it, as if it were true.

And then Wanda hugs you, apologizing for not telling you sooner, and you say it's okay. And when you lie on her bed, and go to watch a TV show, you want to cry. You know what has been bothering you all week. The realization hits you fast and makes your heart soar. You are in love with her.

//-//

Things are going relatively well. It's been two weeks since you realized the real nature of your feelings, and you've been ignoring them just fine. And you've accepted every invitation to parties, dates, and even any walk to think about anything other than Wanda. And even the people who know you are amazed at how many girls you've seen in the last few days.

At this very moment, for example, there was a girl you met in French class giving you oral sex against the gym bleachers. You were trying to concentrate on the feeling, but every time you closed your eyes you kept seeing Wanda. And you didn't want to think about her.

And then the bell rang, and that was the perfect excuse to leave.

//-//

You are very drunk. You think you should have stopped drinking at least ten drinks ago, but you're pouring another one in your mouth.

And then Steve takes you home, because you are in no condition to be left at a party. And you swear to him that you are fine, and that you are going to bed.

And then you head toward the backyard of Wanda's house as Steve leaves.

There's no way you can get up to Wanda's room without falling off the roof, and your brilliant idea is to throw pebbles at her window. But then it is Pietro who sticks his head out of the window, and he laughs when he sees your state, and you frown.

- You crazy fool, that' s the wrong window! - he tells you in a low tone, trying to avoid waking up his parents.

- Call Wanda for me! - You ask in the same tone, he laughs shaking his head before going back inside, closing the window.

You start to look around for more pebbles, but then Wanda comes out the back doors, wrapped in a silk robe and looking at you in annoyance.

- What happened to you? - she asks as soon as she reaches you. You are smiling at her because she looks so pretty. - I called you a million times.

- God, you are beautiful.

Wanda blinks in confusion, frowning.

- You're not even listening to me. - She retorts angrily, but keeps her voice down to keep it down. - How much did you drink?

- I don't know, Mom. - You mock trying to keep your balance. The surroundings were spinning a bit.

- You are unbelievable. - she grumbled angrily. - What do you want anyway?

And then you're laughing, at what you don't know. And then you walk over to Wanda and hug her, but she doesn't respond. You rest your neck on her shoulders, while whispering in her ear:

- Don't tell Wanda, but I am in love with her.

And then Wanda pushes you away and takes two steps back, an expression of pure shock on her face. You stumble backwards and start to laugh, trying not to fall on the floor.

- What did you say? - she asks incredulously.

- Shush. It's a secret. - You say. - Don't tell anyone.

- You're joking. - She says, and you feel your head hurt. - You're lying.

Your drunken brain has one minute of lucidity when you understand what you have just done.

- I am not lying. - You tell her with a smile. - I am in love with you.

Wanda denies it with her head, you don't understand why her eyes are filled with tears.

- You're drunk. - She retorts. - And you're being mean. I want you to leave.

You sigh, and stumble to your feet as you turn around, walking in the opposite direction of the yard. You're not thinking clearly, but you think you don't like this conversation.

//-//

When you wake up, your head aches a lot. So does your body, and then you realize that you have slept on the living room carpet.

- Wow, that is sad. - Your younger sister comments when she comes downstairs to find you on the floor. - I would get up before Mom and Dad saw you like that.

- My sweet God in heaven! - Your mother screams after seeing you lying on the floor. You hear your sister giggle and say "too late". And then your mother is running to you and helping you up. But then she smells your clothes and makes an incredulous expression. - Did you really pass out drunk in my living room?

You are covering your face with your hands in an attempt to lessen your migraine, while your mother starts screaming that you are completely irresponsible, and that you were grounded for the rest of your life, but you're not really paying attention.

You want to understand why your last memory of the night is the image of Wanda's crying face.

- And don't think that you are going to miss school today! - You hear your mother screaming while you are in the kitchen. Your sister listens to the fight with a smile on her lips as she eats cereal. - Get upstairs right now and take a shower! I'm taking you to school today! If you have the audacity to drink so much, you will bear the consequences...

The voice grew more distant as you went up to your room. You looked in the bathroom for an aspirin before stepping into the shower.

//-//

Bruce Banner really wasn't happy when he found out that you had slept with his girlfriend. He approached you as soon as you entered the school, and you had too much of a headache to deal with it now.

- Look, here buddy, it's not my fault that you can't satisfy your girl. - You sneer angrily, and then Bruce advances on you, punching the locker behind you. But then Steve appears and pushes him away.

- Get out of here now, Banner. - He warns with an irritated posture. Bruce hesitates.

- Let's see how you like it when she sleeps with your girlfriend. - He retorts angrily before leaving.

Steve changes his posture completely when he turns to you, and his eyes are tender.

- Everything okay there, Y/N? - He asks and you nod absentmindedly, you really weren't paying attention to Bruce, you wanted to talk to Wanda. - I guess Tony was right. - Steve comments in a wry tone as you walk down the hall together, many looks at you impressed by the confusion. - Banner really wasn't happy.

- I don't give a fucking shit. - You retort with irony. - Have you seen Wanda anywhere?

The boy shrugs his shoulders in denial, and you let out an impatient sigh. You two have English now, and you're going to try to concentrate in class for a while.

//-//

You finally find Wanda, but you have no chance to talk to her now. She is giving a speech in the school gym. The principal has asked her to present the bullying prevention project, and as the class speaker, she has been selected to open the presentation. This would certainly bring good points for the college.

The presentation took about forty minutes, and even though your gaze was glued on Wanda, she didn't look at you once.

And then when the presentation was over, all the students were sent back to their classrooms, and you had to wait in hiding until only Wanda and the three audio-visual students were left in the gym.

You walked over to them, and Wanda's eyes widened when she saw you, but she looked away quickly, hurrying to collect the papers that were probably the draft of her speech.

- Can we talk? - You said, and the audiovisual team present looked at you in surprise, but your attention was locked on Wanda.

- I'm busy. - She replied, finishing picking up the papers and holding them tight against her chest.

- Why don't you tell me what's wrong?

Wanda looked away, but then one of the girls from the audiovisual team approached you with a smile.

- Hey, sorry to intrude. - She said in a mischievous tone of voice, and you blinked in surprise because you weren't even remembering the existence of the other people in the room. - When you're done talking to her, can we do something together?

You frowned, and before you could say no, Wanda let out an impatient sigh, and stormed out of the gym, bumping into you while mumbling "have fun". You were in shock for a few seconds, but by the time you ran after her, you had already lost sight of her.

//-//

Pietro was angry with you. But no one seemed willing to tell you what was going on. You were in the cafeteria, eating lunch at the same circular table as Tony, Steve and Pietro, and the Maximoff twin was treating you harshly.

- What's the matter, Pietro? - you asked mildly irritated when he gave you another judgmental look. But then he looked surprised.

- I don't really know.

You frowned.

- Excuse me?

Pietro let out a sigh and put the can of soda he was holding on the table.

- I don't know what you did. - He tells. - All I know is that Wanda is upset. And then so am I.

You raised your fingers to press them between your eyebrows, feeling a headache forming.

- I swear to God. - You complain. - I don't know what I did! She won't tell me!

- Damn it, don't look at me. I didn't even knew you two had fights! - He grumbles awkwardly. - When was the last time you were even angry with Wanda?

You laughed, tucking your hair back.

- Today I think. - You joked. - I don't really know, I never liked to fight with her.

- Then you must have really fucked up. - He remarks, and you let out a grumble, putting your arms on the table and sinking your head into them. - Maybe it has something to do with you coming over to the house drunk.

You raise your head quickly in surprise.

- What did you say?

Pietro blinks at you in confusion and lets out a short laugh.

- Girl, you showed up in our backyard, completely drunk at two o'clock in the morning. - Pietro tells. - You even went for the wrong window.

You let out a surprised exclamation.

- You're shitting me!

Pietro laughed and denied it with his head.

- I don't know what you talked about, but when Wanda came back inside she was crying. - he says seriously. - She wouldn't tell me what it was, and I think that if I hadn't gotten up to get some water, she wouldn't have told me.

You let out a grumble and shoved your hands to your face, trying to remember. Too many flashbacks from last night came into your head. The party, the dancing, you in a triple kiss with Thor and Valkyrie, and a lot of drinking. And then you remembered the smell of Wanda's shampoo, and finally you knew.

You stood up abruptly from your chair, and Pietro looked at you in surprise, Tony and Steve who were talking next to you also looked at you and Steve asked if everything was okay, but you just nodded in shock at them and ran out of the cafeteria.

You needed to find Wanda, and clear everything up. She was too important to lose.

//-//

You look all over the school for her, and even after the bell rings, you don't go to class. You end up outside, on the soccer field.

And then you see her, sitting on the bleachers, looking straight ahead.

You smile, because she is in the same place where you met as children. As you walk up to her you remember:

“You were in the first grade, and you were playing hide and seek with the other kids at break time. And when you tried to sneak into the bleachers of the soccer field, you bumped into someone.

- I'm sorry. - you said, and looked at the girl in front of you. She frowned and looked down at her hands. You followed her eyes to notice the small kitten in her hands. - Wow, you brought your cat to school?

- I found him. - She answered, stroking the animal. - He was crying.

You moved closer to pet him too, and smiled when he began to purr.

- Maybe he's cold. - You said. - Where is his mother?

The girl shrugged.

- Do you want to help me find her? - She asked, and you smiled.

- Of course. - You agreed, offering to carry the animal, and the girl accepted. - My name is Y/N by the way. What is your name?

- Wanda.

You walked side by side out of the bleachers.”

You sat down next to Wanda, but she kept looking straight ahead. You bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think of exactly what to say.

- I guess I have to apologize to you. - You said, and Wanda let out a dry laugh.

- is that so?

- But I'm not sorry for anything.

Wanda blinks in confusion, and looks at you with a frown. You look at her seriously.

- I will not apologize for my feelings.

- I'm not going to do that. - She declares, getting up, and walking off the bleachers onto the field, you follow her.

- You're going to keep running then? - You shout. - I love you! I love you!

- Stop saying that! - She shouts back as she turns around. You notice the tears in her eyes. - Stop it!

You take a deep breath, and try to calm the nervousness that is coursing all over your body.

- Why is this so bad? - You ask almost hurt, and Wanda lets out a wry laugh.

- Because I know you! - she replies, holding back her tears. - I know you don't date anyone! You go out, and you have fun, and then you leave! And I can't do that! - she finally lets the tears flow. - Not when I've been in love with you all my life.

Wanda lets out a shaky sigh at the confession and you lose your breath.

- W-what...

- I can't do this. - She says turning to leave, you rush to run and get in front of her, and she takes two steps backwards nervously.

- Please listen to me. - You asked with desperation in your voice. - I love you. I do, please, Wanda.

Wanda shakes her head, covering her ears with her hands and closing her eyes. You sigh, and wipe your own eyes. You take a deep breath, and walk over to her, tenderly touching her wrists to pull her hands away from her ears. At first she is startled by your touch, but she allows it, but doesn't look at you. You swallow dryly.

- Wanda, I've always been in love with you. - You confess, and she looks up in confusion. - From the first moment I saw you, I loved you.

- You...

- I never thought I had a chance with someone as amazing as you. - You tell her with a sad smile. - And then I found ways to distract myself from it. I'm sorry for hurting you. I never meant for that to happen.

Wanda lets out a sigh, and buries her head in your neck as she hugs you.

- Please don't hurt me. - She whispers against your skin. You press her against you.

- I promise.

You hold each other for long minutes, and then Wanda smiles against your neck.

- Kiss me. - She asks softly, making your whole body shiver in anticipation. You smile as you pull away only to bring your faces together. Your lips meet in a quiet, soft kiss, and you both smile.

You think you finally understand all the romantic songs in the world.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #marvel imagines #oneshot #high school au

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

This Side of Normal Ch. 7

AO3

Marinette Dupain Cheng didn’t have a normal life. On the contrary, some would call her life Miraculous. Well, one would. And she would whack him every time. As much as she loved her brother (in all but blood) Adrien, she couldn’t stand his puns most of the time. After he first lost his arm a year ago at the final battle against Hawkmoth, she let him get away with a lot of puns and awful jokes. Because she blamed herself for his injury. She should’ve been able to fix him. But she wasn’t. She still blamed herself some days, but she no longer laughed at every single one of his puns. He knew she hated them, and it was better for her mental health to let him know how awful they were. She’s stirred from her thoughts by Adrien nudging her, obviously trying to get her attention.

“Where are we going for our spring break trip? You helped Mme. Bustier plan that, right?” Adrien asks. She frowns, not sure what brought that topic up.

“We’re going to spend a week in New York and then a week in London. Why?” She asks, confused at his worried expression.

“Okay well, maybe you should tell Mme. Bustier that. Because she just said that we’re spending two weeks in New Jersey.” Adrien says with a grimace.

“WHAT!?” She yells, jumping out of her seat.

“Marinette! I was trying to go over the details of the trip. I’m very disappointed in you. You know better than to interrupt like that.” Mme. Bustier says, shaking her head with a small frown. Marinette’s face turns red and she drops back into her seat, muttering an apology.

“What do you mean we’re going to New Jersey? What’s even in New Jersey?” She asks Adrien in a hushed whisper, conscious of the glares from Lila at the front of the room but determined to ignore them any way she can.

“Gotham, apparently. And the Wayne family. According to Lila, she can get us in for a tour at Wayne Enterprises and Gotham Academy and every other thing the Waynes do. Because she’s dating Damian Wayne, didn’t you know?” Adrien explains, lip quirking in amusement. Marinette groans, dropping her head onto their table.

“Do you realize now I’m going to have to arrange at least part of that? Or we won’t have anything to do and we’ll be stuck in some random city for two whole weeks.” Marinette says, a headache already forming.

“Or, or, hear me out. You could just let her fail. And the trip will flop and everyone will see that she’s awful.” Adrien says. It was a much different response than what he would’ve had a year ago. But the defeat of Hawkmoth and the revelation that his father was a supervillain was enough to alter Adrien’s world view. He wasn’t hopelessly optimistic anymore. He was more cynical. He was still insanely kind, but he didn’t give out his kindness to people who didn’t deserve it. Like the lying bitch in their class.

“I don’t wanna be stuck in a hotel with her for two weeks.” Marinette points out with a grimace. “Wait a minute, why does Gotham sound familiar?”

“Probably from when you were friends with Alya. Batman and his whole team is from Gotham.” He says, slumping down in his seat so that he can continue to whisper to her.

“Oh goody. Crime capital of the US and Lila decides to lie her way into the city. But it wasn’t enough for just her to be targeted. Oh no, she had to get our entire class involved. Yippee.” Marinette snarks, shoving her face back into her folded arms on the desk. It was too much for this early. Time for a nap.

---

After submitting a five thousand word essay on how beneficial a tour of Wayne Enterprises would be and an additional three thousand word essay to Gotham Academy on the benefits of having an exchange class for a week, Marinette was pleased to say that their trip to Gotham wouldn’t be completely boring.

In fact, it would be similar enough to what Lila had lied that hopefully, she wouldn’t be blamed for messing anything up. Sure, they wouldn’t have personal tours from the Wayne family or an invitation to the Spring Gala that the Waynes were hosting, but at least they’d have something to do in Crime City. Hopefully with the amount of security at both Gotham Academy and WE, they wouldn’t run into too many villains. After three years under Hawkmoth, she never wanted to deal with a villain again. Unless she could punch him or her in the face. Then yeah, she’d happily meet a villain. But seeing as it’s highly frowned upon to piss off a Gotham villain like that, she’d prefer to just not see one at all. Would certainly make things easier.

Marinette huffs, glaring at the mess of clothes falling out of her suitcase. She’d started packing two days ago, and then yesterday discovered that she packed the outfit she wanted to wear on the plane. So then she had to take everything out, but then she couldn’t find the outfit and after throwing everything around she found the outfit. Still in her dresser. And now she had a huge mess falling out of her suitcase and not enough time left to pack neatly. Not if she wanted to get any sleep.

“Hey Adrien, can you give me a hand?” She asks, beginning to fold the mess of clothes back up. He’s silent for a minute, and then she hears a click. She sighs and looks up just in time to catch the arm he threw at her.

“There you go!” He says cheekily, a wide grin on his face as he hangs upside down from her bed. She narrows her eyes.

“You know what I meant, you absolute menace.” She deadpans. He snorts before dropping down, landing gracefully and catching the arm she throws back at him.

“You know you love me, Bug.” He says, helping her fold her clothes.

“Unfortunately.” She says with a dramatic sigh. “You hear from Jay yet this week?”

“Yeah. Told me, and I quote ‘stop annoying Pixie Pop with your lameass jokes kid. I can’t protect you from her fury from across the ocean’.” He says with a laugh.

“At least he knows I’d best you in a fight.” She says with a hum. Adrien sputters, an offended look on his face as he slams her last shirt into her suitcase.

“That is not what that meant!” He argues with a pout.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kitty.” She says, zipping the suitcase shut and trying hard to ignore the bad feeling settling deep into her stomach. Something was going to happen in Gotham, and she wasn’t sure if it would be good or bad.

---

Of course the class would leave them on their first full day in Gotham. It made sense. They’d hated Mari before Hawkmoth’s reveal. And after Hawkmoth’s reveal, they were hesitant around Adrien. Even with the whole ‘my dad cut off my arm’ thing. So honestly, leaving the two of them stranded at the hotel was just par for the course.

“At least we’re together.” Marinette says bitterly, thinking of the fact that the class would be getting to tour Wayne Enterprises. A place that she had worked hard to allow them to tour.

“Come on Mari, look on the bright side.” Adrien says, grabbing her hand and tugging her along.

“What bright side? We were left behind, in Gotham, of all places. What could possibly be good about this situation?” She asks, slightly dragging her feet as he tugged her along behind him.

“Mmmm, the fact that Wayne Enterprises is only a block away.” He says with a grin. She straightens immediately, actually keeping up with his pace now instead of allowing herself to be dragged behind him.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” She asks, shaking her head in faux disappointment. He shrugs.

“I like a little chaos.” He says. Marinette opens her mouth to snark back at him, but is instead silenced by the building in front of her. Wayne Enterprises was slightly intimidating, but she was still amazed by its design. It was modern and sleek and her hand twitched towards the sketchbook in her purse. She could just imagine skirts with the same sleek shapes and dark colors, suits whose build was used to make the wearer look taller. Just as she’s about to pull out her sketchbook, she sees a familiar head of hair walking into the building. Dark hair with a white streak. But-

“Was that Jason?” She asks, suddenly far more interested in the man who just walked in. Adrien’s gaze snaps to where hers is, frowning at the closed door.

“I don’t know, but let’s go see.” He says, and this time, she’s the one tugging him. Their class completely forgotten. Until they walk through the doors and hear the incessant chatter and noise that comes with being around Lila Rossi. But not enough that is enough to deter the two from their goal. Especially when the man they’d followed turns around, a familiar face set into a scowl.

“Jay!” Marinette calls, waving at him. The man’s scowl instantly drops into a wide smile and he rushes past the class, sweeping the two up into a huge hug.

“Pixie! Kid! What are you two doing here?” He asks, holding them close.

“Jay-Jay, can’t breathe.” Mari says, letting out a puff of air as he sets them down gently.

“Hey Jay!” Adrien says, a wide smile on his face, one of the most sincere smiles Mari had seen in a while. She felt her own face fall into an easy smile. After a year apart, they were together again.

“Uh. Jason? Job, remember?” A voice asks, pulling the three out of their reunion. Jason looks at the man and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Dick, thanks. I’d completely forgotten why I came all the way here.” He snarks, no venom in his tone.

“Did you just-” Marinette starts to ask, uncertain if he was calling the man a name or?

“Shit, I forget that even though you speak it just fine, English isn’t your first language. His name is Richard, but ‘Dick’ is a nickname for Richard. It’s what he usually goes by.” Jason explains, snorting at the look on her face. She huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Well excuse me, Mr. To be fair, you calling someone that wouldn’t be out of the question. You have shitty language a lot of the time.” She teases with a smirk.

“That’s it. You’re disowned. I no longer claim you as my little sister.” He says, turning around dramatically and walking away. Marinette’s jaw drops at him. She looks at Adrien who just smirks, and then at Dick who just looks confused with the entire situation.

“What the hell was that? I thought I was the dramatic one.” She pouts.

“Looks like you’ve lost your touch Bug.” Adrien says, crossing his arms. Her eyes narrow.

“Is that a challenge?” She asks. He shrugs.

“Do with it what you will. Just don’t get him in trouble, I think he actually works here.” He says, glancing around the packed lobby. Marinette looks around and sighs. She didn’t want to make a scene with the class, and she definitely didn’t want Jason to get in trouble.

“I’ll get him later.” She mumbles, falling into place on Adrien’s right side naturally. The two walk in sync to the rest of the class, oblivious to the bewildered look given to them by Dick Grayson.

Master list

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #platonic maribat adrienette #maribat platonic adrienette #fanfic #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #This Side of Normal #maribat big brother Jason Todd #maribat fic #akuma glass goes to gotham #maribat gotham fic #maribat but make it all left au

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englishmuffinsrd · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on 200 followers :) <3 Can I request a bakugou x touch starved reader?. Thank you so much ^^

AHHH thank you so much dear! And yes, of course you may!!! I had a blast writing this- if it’s not what you were looking for I’m sorry- I just think everyone feels this way now that classes are back in the swing of things- anyway- please enjoy- 💛

I really like this

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: ...

Synopsis: Over the past month-with all the stuff U.A. demands of you-it was hard to see your boyfriend- even so- this past week has been extra rough with the first exam if the semester coming up. With all that stress building up- it’s safe to say: you are touch starved.

————————————————————————

“Hey Siri... how long until February 1st?”

....”it’s two days until then”

What?? Wasn’t is a week just yesterday? No no no no no no no This isn’t possible. Ever since the start of the semester y/n along with everyone else in class 1 A has been stressing over school related subjects. Even Bakugou found himself staying up a little later to study. Even so, having two days until the first exam of the season was not good. You had spent nearly all your time working and getting school work done in hopes that the weekend would come and you could rest but now.... looking at what’s on your plate- that doesn’t look possible.

You walk your way over to the mini fridge in your dorm and pull out a water bottle- you may be sleep deprived but hydration is important. Sitting back at your desk you loom over your notes and then look back at the practice problems. Why was the material not adding up? Why couldn’t you focus? Why were your eyes so dry? Ugh

It had been well over a week since you and Bakugou had even talked beyond a normal “hey” or “nice job” For most couples that’s strange- but for you two it’s not actually that weird. Even so-Katsuki watches you in class and he can see how tense you are.

————————————————————————

Rubbing your eyes you stops short... “did I put on mascara this morning” running though your brain...” no no I woke up late I didn’t have time” you promptly gives your eyes a rough rub and then harshly push your palms along your neck, over the base of your shoulders and up the back of your hairline. And even though your so stressed- even though you knows you should be focusing- it’s just not coming together, Aizawa’s voice is too dull and you’re too tired and right now you just wants to get school over with so you can get back into the routine of life.

“Your eyes look like bruises!!” Mina harshly whispers “are you alright y/n?!”

“Minaaaaaaa” you whine, “You’re not supposed to point that out you know.”

“I’m sorry y/n! Are you stressed over the exam? Some of the other girls are coming over to Momo’s dorm tonight to study- if it would make you feel better maybe you can come too.” She smiles so warmly all you can do is nod.

“Maybe, thanks!! I’m just so worried and even though I’ve read all the material I have a hard time remembering all the details.”

“Well then, we‘ll be sure to go over all of it tonight! Hang in there y/n!”

And even as your shoulders slump back and you hands go down to grab and massage your legs you can see Katsuki out of the corner of your eye squinting at you.

———————————————————————

“Wait I thought the Hero Legislations began when quirks began to emerge?” Ochako smacks her temples, “that makes sense doesn’t it?”

It does...... right?

“Well it took awhile for people to know what quirks even were- even then for those born with quirks to age into an adulthood so that is became customary for rules to be implemented. It probably took a lot longer than you think Ochako...” Even Momo looks tired and your hand hurts so bad from writing notes you have to stop every so often to shake your hand and crack your wrist.

“Oh... right....” Uraraka smiles, “that makes sense.”

“We don’t have long before the exam- not even 24 hours- I think we should all rest up and be sure to have a good breakfast in the morning. Look over your notes one more time.” Momo isn’t smiling but she looks content as she pulls her ponytail down. “Good luck- see you tomorrow evening” and then you stretch and get up to head to your dorm.

Walking up the stairs to you almost don’t notice the Bakugou-shaped lump at your door. He’s sitting cris-cross and looking at his phone.

“Katsuki.... what are you doing??”

Listen okay- you love your boyfriend- he’s great- annoying a lot of the time-but he’s great- even so- you want sleep and you just can’t sit and listen to him ramble about “stupid Deku” for hours.

He looks up at you. Silent.

And that’s scary

“Katsuki? You okay?”

He quietly stands and looks at your hand. Backing out of the way of your door- he leans on the door post.

“Open” is all he says. Way not like him either. “Open the damn door!!! I won’t ask again y/n!” Is more like him but he just stands there- bored expression on his face.

So you do- open the door I mean- and he quickly grabs at your waist and pulls you to the edge of your bed “Oof- Katsu-“

As weird as it was you couldn’t help but lean in- and your tired arms connect at the low part on his back. He’s crushing you- in a comfortable way. His face in your neck and his body radiating heat- it’s more comfort the BBC you’d felt in awhile.

“We have the exam tomorrow.” Is all you say- because really- it’s all you can think other than how you don’t want to move.

“What? You think I don’t know that?” And he bites at your shoulder. Yep. Bites it. Maybe just a nibble of annoyance.

And suddenly all your urge to read over your notes fades. You could sleep just like this.

“Bakugou- I’m gonna sleep right here” and he chuckles in confusion- and even though it’s only been a week since you’ve heard it- it feels like years.

He grabs at your waist again and presses his fingers into your side- it almost tickles- and he’s flipping you over on top of him, so your smooshed up against his chest. His hand on your neck. Rubbing at your shoulders when your hands had been the morning before.

“Let’s not go a week without this anymore” you mumble because it feels so good to be with him like this you could almost cry.

“Whatta ya talkin’ about?” He grumbles out.

“I really like this.” You say- drifting off

“Well...ugh ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ I guess.” He sighs.

And just as your drifting off into dream land he nuzzles his nose in your neck and hushes

“Me too.”

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

But professor… - c.9

Summary: Walter and Penny can almost welcome their kid, however Penny starts to become very anxious

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Just mentions of punching people

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter //

I’m thirty weeks pregnant and I know that I have around eight to ten weeks to go, however, this pregnancy has been pretty straining on my back, my pelvis and basically my entire body. Moving around is painful and my mom is over at our place a lot of the time to help me out. I’m thanking the heavens that I am not doing cosmetology school now as well, knowing for a fact that I probably couldn’t keep up at all.

If I’m not sitting on the couch reading, I’m crying because I am sitting in the nursery and think about having a little baby and all the bad things that could happen to them.

Walter is drained from a rough day of patrolling and he plops next to me on the couch. Just like any other day, I barely moved, however he still asks me the question.

‘How was your day, princess?’

‘Boring,’ I mumble. ‘How was yours?’

He simply shrugs, probably because something happened and he doesn’t want me to worry. I rest my head against his chest and without thinking it seems, he places his hand on my stomach. ‘Have they been good to you?’ he asks

‘They sure have been,’ I chuckle. ‘Just hate the fact that I’m practically glued to the couch.’

Walter nods, pressing a kiss on top of my head. I know he worries a lot and therefore confides to my mom, asking her what more he can do to help me out. Walter is being the perfect boyfriend, because even my mom said that he is doing literally all he can to help me out. One night I found him scrolling and searching for tricks to ease the pain and discomfort, though he never lets me in on it.

‘If you’re up for it, we could have dinner,’ he says, ‘somewhere other than our living room.’

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know what you’re craving. I’m up for anything.’

‘Pizza?’ I ask. ‘I would really love a Hawaiian Pizza.’

Walter frowns for a second—probably remembering how I told him multiple times that I hate pineapple on pizza—but then he nods. ‘Of course, princess.’

✎ ✎ ✎

We’re sitting at a restaurant across from each other and it’s nice to be out and about again. I mean, I go to town with my parents a lot, I hang out with the ladies from the pregnancy class, but going out with Walter has been a while, especially because he has been working long hours and I’m tired after one trip to anywhere basically.

Walter actually stretched out his leg underneath the table, towards my side, so I can rest my feet on it. Every time I have a crust left, I hand it over to him and with a small smile he accepts them. ‘So,’ I say, ‘I’ve been thinking about a name.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I would say that for a girl we could call her Emma.’

Walter tilts his head. ‘Emma Marshall, sounds cute,’ he says with a smile. ‘You have a name for when it’s a boy?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I actually think they’re a girl.’

He starts to laugh. ‘Why do you think that, princess?’

‘Just a gut feeling,’ I chuckle. ‘What do you think?’

‘I have no idea,’ he says, holding out his hand for me to take. When I placed mine in his, he adds: ‘I actually have a name for a boy. Wanna hear?’

‘Always.’

‘Declan.’

Oh, that’s a lovely name. I don’t think I even know someone who is named Declan. ‘Declan Marshall. That sounds so cute. I absolutely adore it, Walter.’

Walter smiles and gives me a kiss on my hand. ‘We’ll see how we name them.’

‘Yeah,’ I chuckle. ‘Just around ten weeks or less,’ I say. ‘Kinda nervous.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘It’s giving birth, Walter. That’s scary. All these other ladies are so confident and proud of what their bodies can do and all. I mean, sure, that’s awesome, but it also terrifies me.’

‘Understandable,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there for you, every step of the way.’

‘I know,’ I chuckle. ‘It’s just that… I don’t know. With being pregnant, it’s just all a fantasy. With a newborn, it’s the real deal.’

Walter nods, taking in my worries. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘you and I can manage.’

‘You’re being awfully nonchalant about it.’

‘That’s because I need to stay calm for you. Believe me, princess, I’m freaking out on the inside.’

I frown, because that’s the first time he actually told me those words. Usually he says that he cannot wait for this baby to arrive, though it is a little scary every now and then, but saying he is freaking out?

That’s new.

‘What?’ I ask him. ‘Are you serious?’

He nods. ‘I mean, being a parent is difficult. Growing up I didn’t have the love and support I needed. I basically raised myself and judging from the person I am today, I didn’t really do a good job.’

‘You did an excellent job,’ I retort. I know about his youth and how he had to raise himself, how you can still notice it in his day to day life. ‘Walter, please tell me about your worries. You don’t always need to be the protective big bear who prevents me from any harm. I’m a big girl and I need you to confide with me. Please?’

He sighs as he is looking everywhere but to me. This is hard, I can see it, but from the looks of it, he is gonna agree with me. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Dinner ended not so great. As we were walking back from the restaurant to our car, two guys thought it was necessary to whistle at me (I didn’t even notice at first, but then Walter’s entire demeanor changed, so that’s how I was informed about the matter).

Let’s just say, it evolved into an argument and then one of the guys thought it was an excellent idea to push Walter. I applaud him for having the guts to push my boyfriend, but it was honestly one of the stupidest things for him to do, because Walter wouldn’t be Walter if he punched the guy and his friend.

Multiple times.

I have been ignoring him for the entire drive and once we’re home, I still don’t know what to say to him.

‘Princess,’ he whispers, carefully trying to approach me as I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in his shirt. ‘Please talk to me.’

I purse my lips together, as tears burn in my eyes.

He sits behind me, placing his hands on my upper arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘Sorry for what?’

‘For scaring you. I was just protecting you, darling.’

‘What’s wrong with just ignoring the matter, Walter?’ I ask him, turning to the side so I can look at him without craning my neck. ‘You scared me back there.’

‘I’m not gonna let some dip shit whistle at you, especially not when I’m next to you,’ he defends himself.

‘You’re an officer,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t think this is proper behavior.’

‘I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you,’ Walter retorts.

‘That’s not the point. The point is you put yourself in danger.’

‘Hardly.’

I glare at him. ‘I don’t like this,’ I say. ‘Have you any idea how stressful it was for me? You know what, never mind. I’m going to sleep.’

He scoots back and I wrap my arms around the pregnancy pillow, with my back towards him. I love Walter, I really do, but this… I saw it all unfolding in front of my eyes.

It would start with an argument, some light pushing, until the other guys would pull out a knife, stab Walter, which would result in a trip to the hospital. Possibility of death. Me having to bury the father of my child.

I push my face in the soft fabric of the pillow, as hot tears slide over my cheeks. Walter sighs deeply next to me and starts to toss and turn next to me. His leg bumps into mine and it causes him to hold his breath. ‘Sorry, Penny,’ he says.

I dry my cheeks on the pillow. ‘Walter,’ I whisper, ‘you know I worry when you go to work.’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘but you don’t need to.’

‘You’re gonna be the father of our kid,’ I continue, ‘and I’d like to raise them with you, not in memory of you.’

‘Princess,’ he whispers, ‘we’re gonna raise this kid and eventual others together. You know, before I met you, I was an adrenaline junkie, detective or not. I got into a lot of shit, hence the reason I was suspended and started teaching. You, my love, made me realize that chasing danger like I used to, is not gonna get me further in life. Now I have you, I have the love of my life here with me and I’m never ever gonna do anything that’ll put me or you or our child in danger.’

‘Then why did you punch him?’

‘Because he started it,’ Walter says, only for him to realize how toddler like that sounds. ‘I just want to protect you against anyone,’ he says in a softer tone. ‘Because I love you, Penelope Townsend. You are my everything.’ He wraps his arm around my upper body, pressing a kiss against my temple. ‘I’m sorry I scared you, Penny. I never meant to do such thing.’

‘I know,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry for overreacting.’

‘No, no, no, you’re not overreacting. Maybe I was.’ He pulls me closer to his own body and places his hand on my stomach. ‘Just know that I will forever protect you and the baby.’

I chuckle. ‘I know that. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid anymore, not when I’m around at least.’

He smiles. ‘I’ll tone it down a notch, princess.’

✎ ✎ ✎

‘Is that that colosseum thing you were talking about?’ Walter gestures towards my chest and I look down, spotting two tiny wet patches near my chest area, before bursting into laughter.

‘Colostrum, Walter, not colosseum.’ Oh dear, he is totally blushing, because of his mistake. ‘Can you grab me another shirt?’

I barely asked the question, when he jumps up and rushes upstairs. I rub my stomach a little bit, slightly scared at how much it expanded. I’m close to the end of my pregnancy, having reached thirty nine weeks yesterday. I wonder how it’ll ever go back to normal.

Walter comes down again and without me asking he changes my shirt. ‘Have I told you I loved you today?’

‘A few times.’ I give him a kiss and whisper: ‘I’m proud of you.’

He frowns. ‘Why are you proud of me? You’re the one growing an entire baby here.’ He carefully places his hands on the side of my stomach. ‘The least I can do is to make things as comfortable for you as possible.’

‘But you always do it without complaining,’ I say. ‘I heard that Stacey’s husband is such a pain in the ass. Always complaining, groaning about how much he has to do nowadays.’

Walter scoffs. ‘Well, pregnant or not, I’d like to worship you, make your life as easy as I possibly can.’ He gives me a kiss. ‘What can I do for you, darling?’

‘Sex,’ I say, before I curl my lips in. Oh gosh, never have I been so straight forward. My cheeks heat up. ‘No, please, forget what I said.’

‘Is my girl asking me for sex?’ Walter starts to laugh. ‘The day Penny Townsend asked me for sex has finally arrived.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I laugh nervously. ‘It’s just been awhile.’ Awhile equals three months. I hate how he sometimes initiates, but I simply shake my head. It’s a combination of a very low sex drive, not feeling pretty and being in pain nearly twenty four seven.

He leans forward and kisses me. ‘Want to go to the bedroom, princess or is the couch acceptable as well?’

‘We can stay here,’ I whisper.

‘Then let me close the curtains and lock the door, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I mumble.

When he comes back, he takes off his shirt, so I can admire his beautiful strong body. There is something so special about Walter. He looks strong enough to left a car up with one arm, but he is a mushy man the second the front door closes and we’re together. He kneels in front of me, pressing open mouth kisses on my lips. ‘Shit, I love you,’ he says against my mouth. He disregards my shirt and admires me.

‘Stop,’ I say, rolling my eyes.

‘No, no, no, I could never stop admiring you.’ He places his hands on my expanded stomach and says: ‘You’re so beautiful.’

He gives me a long kiss and then I whimper. Not out of pleasure, but out of shock.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks me.

‘I think my water broke.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Twelve hours later, I am looking at Walter, who holds the little baby in his strong arms. He sits next to me on the bed and wraps one arm around my shoulders. ‘Penny, princess,’ he says, ‘I don’t think words can describe how proud I am of you and how much I love you.’

I nuzzle my face in his chest. ‘I love you too. Thank you for not freaking out.’

‘Externally freaking out you mean, because on the inside I was fainting,’ he chuckles. He gives me a kiss on my temple. ‘I’m a dad.’

I actually see some tears in his eyes and I cannot stop my own either. ‘I know.’ I place my hand on the little bundle and whisper: ‘We’re officially parents. It’s so surreal.’ I let out a deep and content sigh.

The little baby opens their eyes and I cannot stop my smile.

‘Hi, little one,’ Walter says. ‘Oh no, Penny, we’ve created an exact copy of yours.’

I chuckle. ‘Good luck saying no to him,’ I say. ‘We love you so much, Declan Marshall. So so much.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall #henry cavill x you #walter marshall x penny townsend #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #asian ofc #penny townsend #but professor

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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐭-𝐔𝐩

"We should go pick the strawberries over there. Percy and Y/n can work on the ones here."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 3,887

warnings: none?? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! I was supposed to post this yesterday, but oops. I don't have much to say. again, it's a little bit of a slow start just because I want to introduce characters and establish relationship dynamics before getting into the good stuff. anyways, i hope you like it! i love hearing feedback so don't hesitate to reach out to me!

Part One Part Two Part Three

When you were stressed or needed to be alone with your thoughts, you often found yourself in the strawberry fields, either helping collect the harvest or simply sitting on the grass patches nearby. You usually preferred being in the fields alone, peacefully listening to the chirping of the birds and cicadas while inhaling the scent of sun-baked strawberries. However, there were times where you did stumble upon the company of the girls from the Demeter and Aphrodite cabin. You didn't mind hanging out with them, always amused at their banter and choice of conversation. They were always bubbly, taking advantage of the leisure activity to gossip and have girl talk, and it was nice, even if you were just listening.

Today was one of those days where you weren’t alone in the fields. Standing alongside Silena, Katie, and your half-sister, Lou Ellen, you find yourself zoning in and out of their conversation. Their chattering and giggling serve as background noise as you focus on cutting the strawberries from their stems to carefully place them in your basket.

"Who do you think are the cutest boys at camp?" You hear Silena ask when you decide to tune back into their conversation. A silence falls amongst the group; Katie and Lou Ellen were suddenly hesitant to speak. You look up, waiting for one of them to break the silence because it definitely wasn’t going to be you.

"I know what you're doing! You're trying to find out our crushes," Katie points her finger at Silena accusingly. Lou Ellen nods,

“Yeah, we know your tricks, Silena! You’re gonna try and set us up with people.”

"What? No!" Silena denies, but the smirk on her face said otherwise. "I'm just asking in general! You can find someone cute and not have a crush on them,” she points out. The three of you weren’t convinced at Silena’s claims, and the silence returns. You turn back to what you were doing, not really wanting to trap yourself in this conversation, and you decide to leave the pressure of confession to Katie and Lou Ellen.

"Okay.” Katie turns her body to face you. You hesitantly meet her gaze, already knowing what she's going to confess. "... this might be weird, but I think your brother is really cute," she admits, giggling nervously as she looks at both you and Lou Ellen. You scrunch your nose, shaking your head while Lou Ellen joins your reaction as she gags theatrically. The confession didn't surprise you, but it still felt weird to hear it.

"He's ugly!" You exclaim. Silena laughs, her head thrown back as Katie gasps at your insult about Atticus. Even though this wasn't the first time you've heard this from girls at camp, you still found it strange. Even your mortal friends have told you that they think your brother is adorable. You’ll never admit it out loud to anyone, but you were aware that your brother definitely wasn't ugly. Obviously, he wasn't if almost all of your friends had to mention his appearance at least once. Not only was Atticus conventionally attractive, but he was also a natural flirt, so he got attention from girls fairly easily. So much so that before your mother claimed you, Connor and Travis Stoll swore you guys were going to be claimed by Aphrodite.

You've only seen him flirt a handful of times, usually with the wood nymphs and playfully with the girls from the Aphrodite cabin. It was strange seeing girls flirt with him and giggle at all his stupid jokes because that “smooth” Atticus they meet is so different from the Atticus you saw. The Atticus you got to see was a clumsy dork that obsessed over Harry Potter and had a habit of bursting into song whenever he was bored, most often singing his own rendition of a song from a broadway musical or of a rock song from the 90s.

"No, he isn't! His facial structure is amazing!” Katie gushes. “And he's tall and has broad shoulders. He's also really funny!" You and Lou Ellen stare at her with a straight face before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

“He’s a dork!” Lou Ellen chokes through her laughs, and you nod, agreeing with her.

"Hey! I get where Katie is coming from! As his sisters, you guys are biased. Of course, you’re gonna say he's ugly," Silena points out, and you sigh,

“Live with him in the Hermes Cabin for a couple of weeks, and when you see him in his natural state, you won’t find him cute anymore,” you joke. Katie shakes her head,

“I don’t believe you. I bet he’s even cuter! You’re calling him a dork, but jokes on you, I like dorks,” she says playfully, crossing her arms over her chest, and you smile at her.

“To each their own, I guess.”

"What about you? Who do you think is cute?" Silena asks you. You side-eye the other, and you feel your face heat up. You really didn’t want to be the target in this conversation. Turning back to the bushes, you answer her question with a shrug of your shoulders. Silena scoffs, "there has to be someone! We have a good group of guys to choose from at camp."

"I mean, yeah…" you trail off hesitantly, and you feel the stares of the girls as they wait for your answer. You knew they weren't going to let this go, and so, you sigh softly, taking a moment to find the courage to confess. "I guess Percy is cute-"

"Y/n!"

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your shoulder tenses up at the sound of the familiar voice. It was too much of a coincidence that Percy showed up the exact moment you were speaking about him. The girls laugh at your reaction and your cheeks somehow become hotter as Silena smiles at you knowingly. If she didn't sense your crush before, she definitely sensed it now. Snapping your gaze away from her, you find the courage to turn around.

"Hey, Percy," you say, smiling sheepishly. You fiddle with your fingers as you take in his appearance. Percy was wearing his orange camp half-blood shirt and cargo pants. His cheeks were a little flushed at the summer heat, and you assume he probably came from training. As usual, his dark hair was slightly disheveled, and you couldn’t help your lips curling into a soft smile.

"Hey, I've been looking for you. You left these on the dock," he says, presenting the black pouch filled with your crystals in his hand. You gasp softly as you take it from him.

"Oh! Thank you. I can’t believe I forgot them," You shake your head at yourself as you put them in your strawberry basket in the meantime. You didn’t understand how your forgotten crystals never came to your mind once, especially this late in the day.

"No problem. I think they’re all in there," he smiles at you before acknowledging the girls standing behind you. "Hey, guys.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as they giggle amongst themselves. They murmur a few things to each other before turning their gaze to him again.

"Percy, I wanted to ask who do you think is the prettiest girl at camp?" Silena asks as the girls move to surround him. You're stomach flutters crazily with nerves, and you cringe, feeling embarrassed even though Percy was oblivious to the motive behind the question.

Percy looks around him, shifting his weight from one foot to another,

"This… feels like a trap,” he says slowly, making the girls giggle.

"It's not! We just want to know. Anyone, in particular, stands out to you?" Silena steps closer to him.

"Any crushes?" Katie asks.

"There has to be someone, right?" Lou Ellen smiles.

"Um… I- why are you guys asking so many questions?" He mutters, his shoulders tense up as he avoids the stares of the three girls practically towering over him.

"Guys, leave him alone," you laugh shortly. "You don't have to answer all that," you reassure him, cutting through their little circle as you squeeze between Silena and Katie.

You stand beside Percy, the girls deciding to step down and return to their original places. Silena smiles, and you can't tell what she's thinking, but you knew that the smile playing on her lips made you nervous. You awkwardly exchange a look with Percy, noticing that he was just as flustered as you were.

"You know… I noticed that those bushes over there get a lot of sun," Silena says, breaking her silence as she turns to Katie and Lou Ellen. She points at the bushes about three rows from where you were all standing, and Katie nods,

"We should go pick the strawberries over there. Percy and Y/n can work on the ones here." Silena gives you a smirk, winking at you before turning around and taking the other girls with her.

You resume your strawberry picking, chewing on your button lip. You were hoping that he didn't witness Silena wink at you because if he did, it was then way too obvious that the girls spontaneously set up this. There's a silence for a moment, and you feel your palms start to sweat as you try to figure out what you were going to say to him.

"Where's Ambrose?" Percy asks softly, and you glance over for a second, watching as he picks the strawberries beside you.

"Oh, uh, he ran off a little while ago with my brothers. They're probably playing somewhere." You smile, remembering how Ambrose wasted no time, running over to Alabaster and Ernest the moment they had offered to play with him.

"... how do you play with a ghost dog?" Percy gleams, amused at the idea of playing with Ambrose considering he couldn’t touch many things.

"There's a process where you can offer things to his spirit, so he has a few toys that he can play with," you explain. “He and I play with his toys all the time, but he’s with my brother’s right now, so they're probably wrestling."

"What? Really? I wouldn’t want to wrestle Ambrose,” Percy admits as a short laugh comes from his mouth.

"Yeah, me neither. He would definitely win if we did. Once he was so excited to see me; he jumped on me and knocked me down no problem,” you shake your head. “I think he forgets how big he is, and he ends up getting carried away sometimes.”

You look up from what you were doing, unexpectedly meeting Percy’s green eyes that resemble the color of the Caribbean sea as the sun shines into them. The butterflies in your stomach return, and you’re trying not to focus on the fact that the other was already looking at you. You look elsewhere, suddenly too shy to look at him, but your eyes couldn’t help but flicker back to his face. From this close, you noticed things about him that you didn’t see before, like the scattered freckles on his face, his long eyelashes, and his slightly chapped lips.

“I-” he stops himself suddenly, and your eyebrows furrow. The tension between you both was something you've never felt before. You didn't understand why Percy looked dazed, staring at you as if he found you to be the most captivating person in the world.

You open your mouth, but before you could speak, you see something moving at the end of the bush row. Breaking your gaze with Percy, you notice Silena's focusing intensely on you and him. It suddenly dawns on you that the strange tension was because she was working that love magic that all the Aphrodite children can do. She smirks when she sees that you’ve noticed her, and you swore you saw her mouth a “you’re welcome.” The tension suddenly falls as she hides behind the bushes right as Percy turns around to find out what you were looking at.

You giggle nervously, “um, yeah. Anyways... Ambrose can put up a fight,” you say, trying to revert to the original topic because you really didn’t want to discuss what just happened. You give him a second to get himself together, Percy looking a little disoriented after being under Silena's look magic. He blinks a few times before turning abruptly toward the strawberry bushes. A nervous chuckle leaves his lips, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. He shifts on his feet and nods,

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He clears his throat, his voice coming out a little higher than he had intended it to be. You bite your bottom lip, trying to refrain from laughing, and you hum softly in response.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit before your conversation had picked up again. Surprisingly, even after being unknowingly manipulated by Silena’s magic, Percy moved on quickly from the awkward tension. You found it was easy to talk to him, the two of you chatting as if you didn't just meet yesterday. The two of you talked and laughed a lot, sharing funny stories from quests or about your mortal parents.

You’ve never been a closed-off person, and you were able to share things easily with people, so the conversation flew naturally. You guys talked about the weird perks of your powers. One of the weird perks you shared is your ability to see and communicate with ghosts, and you end up freaking him out with the many stories of your paranormal experiences.

You weren't sure how long you were talking to him, but time felt like it flew by, and eventually, your baskets were filled with strawberries as you finished picking the row. The sun was lower in the sky, and you assume that it was almost time for dinner. You figured you should find your siblings, and Ambrose and Percy had mentioned that he had plans to climb the lava wall with a few of his friends. So you guys placed your baskets in the drop-off section where they package the strawberries, exchanging a short “see you later” before parting ways.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The last thing Annabeth was expecting to see today was an out-of-breath Atticus bursting into her cabin, but there he was. She jumps in her seat at the sudden bang, the sound cutting through the silence. Her gaze snaps from her book to the door, concerned for a second as Atticus looks panicked. He lets himself in, scoping out the room in search of something.

"What are you-?"

"Have you seen Harvey?" Atticus asks, frantically looking for his familiar. Harvey is a black-footed ferret that was given to him by his mother. When you guys found out that Ambrose was for you, Atticus was pretty bummed. He was jealous that your mother had given you such a cool gift, and you had assumed that she had seen how upset he was because a few days after Hecate officially claimed you, Atticus received Harvey as a present. The morning he met Harvey for the first time, Atticus was thrilled to wake up with the ferret casually sitting on his chest.

"I'm sorry, Harvey? I don't know a Harvey?" Annabeth turns in her chair to face him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"My ferret, have you seen him?" Atticus drops to his knees, looking under the beds and the nightstands. He just saw him jump into the back window of the Athena Cabin, so he was sure that Harvey was hiding somewhere.

"Um, no?" Annabeth rolls her eyes, finding it rude that he has barged in as if he lived there. Suddenly, a small animal jumps from the top of the bookcase beside her and right on her desk. Annabeth yelps, getting up from her seat quick as Harvey snorts, and he clumsily runs across her papers before prancing across all the desks that were lined against the wall.

"Harvey, what are you doing?!" Atticus exclaims as he moves to stand up. He attempts to meet Harvey at the last desk, but Harvey jumps out of his reach just as he closes his fist to grab him. Harvey zooms across the room, forcing him to play a one-sided game of tag that Atticus was definitely losing. He occasionally slips and stumbles, the snorts that leave his snout starting to sound like mocking laughter.

"What's wrong with your rat?" Annabeth jokes as her eyes follow Harvey around the room.

"He's a ferret," Atticus corrects her, mumbling under his breath. He sighs as he tries to catch up with the animal, failing miserably as not only was he crazy fast, he was able to find the smallest corners to hide in.

"Similar family," she shrugs, smirking at him. "And you didn't answer my question."

Atticus sighs, getting on the floor to try and grab Harvey, who’s tucked in the corner under one of the beds. He squints at the small animal, not sure why he’s acting this way when Harvey was curled up on his desk, peacefully taking a nap about 20 minutes ago.

"He does this sometimes. I don't know. He wants to play, and then he causes chaos," Atticus grunts, almost grabbing Harvey, but he runs out of his reach once again. Atticus groans as he sits back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decides he might as well take a breather since he's been chasing him for the past 10 minutes, and he considers that he should stop entertaining him since Harvey obviously saw this as some game.

He sighs softly, choosing to forget about Harvey as he looks over at Annabeth. Her gray eyes are fixed on him as she leans against the edge of her desk. Her curly blonde locks are pulled back in a messy low ponytail allowing the front strands to frame her face prettily. Atticus smiles as he admires her, taking in her appearance before she starts telling him off.

"You look pretty like that," Atticus compliments, his heart skipping a beat as their eyes meet. He watches as her expression softens for a second, her eyes wide at the random compliment. Atticus smirks softly, not surprised, as her face suddenly darkens into a scowl. If Annabeth felt anything for him, she was good at hiding it.

When Atticus had first arrived at camp last summer, Annabeth and he spoke here and there. Their conversations were brief but pleasant, and Atticus found himself wanting to talk to her more often. As his crush for her grew, he had taken it upon himself to harmlessly flirt with her, hoping she’d get the hint that he was interested.

"Like what?" She asks, her chin up as she moves to stand up straight on her feet.

"With your hair in a ponytail like that. It's cute.”

"Hmm. Thanks for letting me know, so I'll never do it like this again,” she says in such a serious tone that made Atticus laugh. There it is. Annabeth was always quick to shut him down, and she never failed to make witty comebacks. He was pretty certain that it was just banter, but it made it hard to tell if she was maybe into him. But he never failed to notice how occasionally, she’d momentarily be lost for words or have a flustered look on her face before it hardened as it did a moment ago.

"You'd be pretty regardless, Chase.” He feels his knees start to ache, and he sighs as he gets back up on his feet.

"Don't call me that," Annabeth says abruptly.

"What? Chase? What do you prefer? Annie? Beth? Anna?" He teases.

"I prefer Annabeth, thank you." She gives him a tight, sarcastic smile, and a short laugh comes from Atticus’s mouth.

"That's not fun, though…" His hand comes under his chin as he studies her. He ponders for a second, trying to come up with a name that he can personally call her. Annabeth shifts, avoiding his gaze as she looks elsewhere. She was weirded out that the other was looking at her for so long, and she tried not to show how flustered she actually was. She grunts,

"What?! What are you look-"

"Goldilocks," Atticus blurts out, his finger pointing into the air as his face brightens, thinking he’s an absolute genius for coming up with that name. Annabeth shakes her head,

"Don't call me th-"

"It's been decided. I will call you goldilocks. No one else can call you that," Atticus cuts her off, the same proud smile plastered on his face even though Annabeth’s eyes narrow dangerously at him. Atticus takes a step back hesitantly. At first glance, she didn’t come off as intimidating, but Atticus knew better. He was always sure not to push her too far because he was completely aware of her ability to kill him.

Atticus suddenly remembers Harvey, noticing how the sound of his little feet pattering along the wooden floor ceased a while ago. He scans the room finding Harvey standing on his hind legs a couple of feet away, calmly watching them. Atticus still couldn’t understand why he had acted so strangely. Familiars couldn’t talk, obviously because they’re animals but their actions are never out of vain. They’re usually trying to tell you something if they’re acting strange, and it takes a while to put the pieces together since there is only so much they can do. After thinking for a second, it dawns on Atticus that Harvey purposely made him come to the Athena Cabin so that he can talk to Annabeth. He smiles to himself, walking toward Harvey. He didn’t run away this time, allowing Atticus to put him on his shoulder.

"He just stopped,” Annabeth points out, her head tilting to the side.

"Probably got tired?" Atticus makes an excuse for him, not wanting to admit that Harvey had decided to be his wingman today. "Sorry for barging in, by the way," he apologizes. “I saw him jump in from the window, and I was worried he’d break something.”

"Whatever. Don’t do it again.”

"Got it. Well, I'll see you around, Goldilocks. Happy studying.” Atticus turns on his heels, hearing a scoff coming from Annabeth as he walks out of the cabin.

"When did I ask you to be my wingman?" Atticus asks Harvey as he walks off the steps of the Athena Cabin. He reaches up, his index finger petting the top of his head. "You're crazy, bud... But she is cute, isn't she?" Atticus laughs, Harvey snorting as if he agrees with him.

masterlist

#my writing #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oneshot #pjo x reader #pjo reader insert

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antebunny · 3 years

Text

Parent Trap AU Part 2

...with a side of on-the-run hacker!wwx AU and celebrity!lwj AU. Full series here).

“It’s not going to work,” Wei Sizhui says when they corner him after breakfast the following morning.

The three boys fold their arms and block the path, as if Wei Sizhui can’t just walk around them on the grass.

“Why not?!” Ouyang Zizhen wails.

“You don’t understand,” Lan Jingyi wheedles. “This is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to me. Yeah my uncle is a celebrity, but he’s so boring.”

Jin Rulan huffs. “Why do we even need his help? We can just find him on the last day of camp!”

Wei Sizhui pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He can feel a headache coming on. “Guys. No. They really cannot meet,” he says.

“But why not?” Ouzang Zizhen says again.

“Because,” Wei Sizhui says patiently, “my dad is wanted for kidnapping. Kidnapping me. From my other dad.”

All three of them just stare at him.

“So if your uncle met my dad while I’m there…” Wei Sizhui shakes his head. “That’s really just bad.”

Lan Jingyi plonks himself down on the paved path right there. “Okay, wait, wait,” he says. “Explain this to us again.”

“We have class in twenty minutes,” Jin Rulan complains, but he sits down too.

“Yeah!” Ouyang Zizhen hurries to scoot in between them. “Tell us the story, Sizhui.”

“I told you yesterday,” Wei Sizhui protests, but when none of them so much as blink, he sighs and sits down as well. “My dad was in prison,” he begins, and they all nod along. “Someone hired by the Jins attacked him in prison and he realized that he wasn’t safe, and I wasn’t safe.” They’re still nodding along, so Wei Sizhui continues. “So he broke out of prison,” he finishes, “and took me from my other dad’s house, and we’ve been on the run ever since.”

They stop nodding.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Jin Rulan says plainly. “Why didn’t he go to my mom? Or my uncle?”

“Or Jingyi’s uncle?” Ouyang Zizhen puts in. “Why didn’t he go to Jingyi’s uncle?”

Wei Sizhui shrugs helplessly. It seems rather straightforward to him. He doesn’t understand what they’re confused about. “Why would he? That makes no sense.”

“And why wouldn’t Lan Jingyi’s uncle be a target if you were?” Jin Rulan demands. “They were married! That doesn’t make any sense!”

Once again, Wei Sizhui can only shrug in the face of their questions. “Maybe he thought nobody would expect him to care about an ex who abandoned him.”

“My uncle would never,” Lan Jingyi says, face red. “You take that back! That’s–not what happened!”

Wei Sizhui is indeed taken aback by Lan Jingyi’s insistence. His dad doesn’t talk much about his ex-husband, it’s true. Well, his dad really doesn’t ever talk about Wei Sizhui’s other dad, but Wei Sizhui knows that even after they divorced, his dad still carries their wedding photo around every country they go to, so he supposes he just assumed.

“Yeah, why would Lan Wangji keep a photo of your dad in his wallet if he doesn’t care?” Ouyang Zizhen challenges.

Wei Sizhui rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s too early in the morning for this. He just wants to go to class and stop thinking about his dad’s former love life. “Can we please just go to class?” He begs.

“No!” Jin Rulan refuses. “Until you explain why we can’t get them to meet!”

“Even if everything does go well, my dad is still wanted for forgery and hacking in half a dozen countries,” Wei Sizhui argues. “What would them meeting do other than make them both sad? And even if Lan Wangji didn’t divorce my dad, he can’t be happy that my dad just ran off with me. It’s been nine years! They’re probably both over each other.”

Wei Sizhui has precious few memories of his other dad, and he’s never quite worked up the courage to ask for more from his dad. Lan Wangji is a tall, sturdy giant in his memories. He recalls large, warm, gentle hands, a deep voice that sung him lullabies, and a steady presence that watched him stick his tiny toddler hands through the bars to pet their two pet bunny rabbits.

But the most vivid memory Wei Sizhui has of his other dad is his warm, steady presence carefully lifting Wei Sizhui away from the glass and blocking his view of his dad. His large, warm hand came down to pat Wei Sizhui’s head, but he was talking to Wei Wuxian.

“I am sorry,” he said. “You cannot see Sizhui anymore.”

“Whose decision was this.” Dad’s voice was distorted through the glass, but even then, Wei Sizhui knew he’d never heard his dad so angry before.

Wei Sizhui clutched his dad’s leg. Pat pat, went the hand.

“I am sorry,” his dad repeated.

“Whose decision, Lan Wangji.”

“...Mine.”

Afterwards, after the yelling was over and Wei Sizhui went home with Lan Wangji, he remembers gripping his dad’s hand with all the strength in his chubby little fingers, like he might disappear at any moment, and asking; “When are we gonna see Papa again?”

Wei Sizhui was too small to see his dad’s face at that moment. Too young to remember whether it was sidewalk or carpet he walked on, what shoes he wore or what the name of the city he lived in was. What he remembered was the way his dad squeezed back, even tighter, and said never.

Wei Sizhui remembers never once considering that his dad could be lying. Not even when he woke up months later, in the middle of the night, to find his dad back and in the middle of a very intense game of hide-and-seek.

It’s been nine long years since then, and Wei Sizhui doesn’t think he wants to see his other dad again.

If only his friends could be convinced of the same.

“That…sounds like a whole lot of excuses,” Jin Rulan says, rubbing his eyes as well.

“He’s not guilty of any actual crimes, just cool crimes,” Lan Jingyi asserts. Wei Sizhui wants to scream.

“Your dad doesn’t have to be alone anymore!” Ouyang Zizhen says enthusiastically.

“Hey,” Lan Jingyi says. “Don’t be mean, he has Sizhui.”

Wei Sizhui instantly forgives him for everything. Still, he thinks his dad could be perfectly happy without Lan Wangji. Maybe without the Jins after him, and the FBI, but the idea still stands.

“Guys,” Wei Sizhui intervenes, trying to stave off the coming argument, “it doesn’t even matter, because my dad’s not gonna be here on the last day of camp.”

“What? Why not?” Jin Rulan squawks.

“He’s picking me up two days early,” Wei Sizhui explains. “So that he’s not seen by any of the other parents.”

Summer camps care far less about identification than they do about money, which is a bit of a problem because it’s far easier for Wei Sizhui’s dad to forge identities for them than to open a bank account. If there’s one time that someone actually manages to track down his dad, it’ll be through the money he’s spending on Wei Sizhui’s summer camp. So just in case, they’re disappearing two days early.

The plan is for his dad to break into the camp two nights before the end of camp. Wei Sizhui’s been keeping him updated on the best ways to do so.

The three of them are staring at him again.

“The campus security is pretty terrible,” Wei Sizhui adds thoughtfully.

“So…you’re just going to disappear?” Jin Rulan asks blankly. “When were you going to tell us?”

“Tell you?” Wei Sizhui asks, equally blank. “Why would I–that ruins the whole point of sneaking out two days early! We have to ditch everything. Phones, the fake bank account, the passports, everything.”

“But then how would we keep in touch?” Lan Jingyi asks plainly. “How would we text?”

“We wouldn’t?” Wei Sizhui says uncertainly. “We wouldn’t stay in the country after disappearing from a summer camp. I mean, I don’t know where we’re gonna go, but–somewhere. Probably Thailand,” he adds pensively.

There’s complete silence for one stunning moment.

“Wow,” Jin Rulan says flatly. “Is this is how Jingyi’s uncle felt when Sizhui’s dad disappeared?”

“Probably,” Ouyang Zizhen says.

“No, no, we can work with this,” Lan Jingyi declares. “We just need to get my uncle here two days before camp ends.”

“And how are we doing that?” Jin Rulan asks.

“Easy,” Lan Jingyi says cheerfully. “I do something that gets my uncle called down here.”

“So, expelled,” Ouyang Zizhen says, nodding along.

“Wait, what?” Wei Sizhui says, baffled, but nobody’s listening.

“Exactly,” Lan Jingyi says, beaming. “My uncle will forgive me once he learns why I did it!”

“But what is he getting expelled for?” Jin Rulan asks curiously.

Lan Jingyi grins, and a shiver runs down Wei Sizhui’s spine despite the heat of the morning summer sun shining behind him. It's a smile that says there's little he won't do to see Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji reunite. At least Jin Rulan and Ouyang Zizhen also look a little apprehensive.

“Hacking."

#y'all asked for it #the juniors #lan sizhui #jin ling #lan jingyi #ouyang zizhen #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #my writing #writeblr #antebunny's ficlets

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

My Girl

pairing : literature major! soccer superstar! Yuta Nakamoto x genius! Reader

word count : 2k words

genre : fluff

summary : He’s perfect and you don’t know why he’s dating you.

taglist : @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @yutazen01 @cosmiclatte28 @2-3-t-i @nctsplug @dreamlesswonder86 @nuoyipeach

Dating. You weren't sure if what you're doing is correct. But Yuta had never pressured you into something out of your comfort zone so you think everything is alright.

You were on the rooftop, seated on the cemented floor, reading the book you just borrowed from the library. One earphone is in your ear as ballad music can be heard, the other in the person sleeping next to you who has his head on your shoulder. When you turned the page of your book, he shifted his position as if woken up from his nap. "Sorry," you whispered.

Yuta removed the earphone from his ear then lay at the cement where you two were sitting. His head lay on your lap, covering his eyes with his arm. "You should sleep in the clinic, Yuta. You might get sick." You mumbled, closing the book and putting it beside you.

The guy removed his arm to look at you, smiling. "You sound like my wife when you nag like that?"

You giggled. "You have a wife?" You pretended to be shocked that he pinched your cheek, earning a whine from you. "But I'm serious. You should just head home already, you've been practicing a lot these days."

He sat next to you, crossing his legs. "I sleep better when you're next to me. Besides, I have to wait for you. I promised your dad that I'll bring you home safe every day."

You rolled your eyes at that. You still have an evening class today so Yuta decided to wait for you to finish your class even if he can go home early today. "I'm fine really. I can just take the cab home then I'll call you." You tapped his cheeks. "You should head home and get some sleep."

He leaned his head on your shoulder as you thread your fingers on his hair. "I'll leave when you get to class. Message me when your class ends, I'll call you." You nodded, smiling fondly. He's really so lovable. You're really happy to be Yuta's girlfriend like this.

Your class ended early and was supposed to message Yuta when you overheard some women's voice saying his name, "I'm sure he's just playing with that geek." You stopped on your tracks. You don't want to eavesdrop but why are they saying that? And Yuta? He's not like that.

"It is surprising that he started dating her. Maybe she made a love potion and forced God Yuta to drink it."

"Have you seen her? She's not even pretty."

You have to hide before they can see you as you hear their heels clicking on the hallway. Do they think that? Yuta is a school superstar, everyone adored him. So why did he ask you to be his girlfriend? They're probably right. You cannot fit in Yuta's world.

Your phone kept on ringing that night then decided to turn it off. You have exams tomorrow and you don't need any distractions. You don't have to think about Yuta and the whole deal with his fangirls now. You just can't.

Instead of waiting for him, you went to school early and your parents even reminded you to eat breakfast. You were taking out books from your locker when you heard him calling you from across the hall, "Love." You closed your eyes and shut down your locker, walking the opposite way he's coming from. "Baby." You're walking briskly now, staring at the ground to avoid everyone's eyes looking at you. "Y/N." he called, holding your arm to stop you from walking. "Are you alright?"

You can't even look him in the eyes but he held you in his arms, hugging you. "I'm worried. You didn't message me last night. I've been calling. Your dad even said that you left early." He mumbled. He is worried about you. "Are you alright?"

You nodded.

"Are we alright?"

You sighed.

"Did I do something wrong? Is it because I went home early yesterday?"

You shook your head. "I'm just tired." He took the books you're holding, holding your hand tight while claiming that he'll walk you to class. You saw how everyone was looking at you. At him. They might be thinking of the same thing, You don't look good together.

He refused to let go of you even if you reached the lecture room, still holding your hand tight. "What time is your class ending?" He then shook his head. "Let's have lunch together." You nodded. "I love you, Y/N." Again, you nodded to hide the surprise. He said that in front of all the students in the lecture hall. You slipped your hand away from his hold but he quickly held it again, pulling you close. "I'll leave if you say you love me."

You just stared at him as if he's a weirdo. Well, he really is. "Yuta, PDA is not…" But he was adamant even if your professor is just outside the door, blocked by Yuta. The older was now telling Yuta to move but he shook his head, saying that he'll leave if you say those three words. The professor was just looking at you and you sighed. "I love you." You said quietly, earning a smile from him then kissed your nose. He reminded that he'll pick you up for lunch before thanking your professor.

You just stared at your book, suddenly scared at how everyone's eyes were on you. You're not used to the attention. Not used to everyone knowing about you. You normally blend in the background but dating Yuta, the soccer superstar of your school, just made your status higher. And now, everyone might think that you're not good together.

This has got to end.

Then everything went black.

Your eyes adjusted to the light and you easily recognized the place as the school clinic. Why are you even here? "Are you alright? Should I call the nurse?" You turned to the left to see Yuta seated on a chair, next to the bed you're laying at. Why is he here? "Did you get enough sleep last night?" But you just stared at him. "Did you skip breakfast today?"

"Please stop, Yuta." You said staring at him. A surprised expression passed on his face and you sigh. You don't want everything to end like this. But once you're out of that door, the same thing will happen. You'll feel bad about yourself. You'll feel insecure next to him.

Yuta held your hand, kissing the back of your palm. "Did I do something wrong? Please let's talk about this first."

You slipped your hand away from him, turning around that your back is facing him. "I can't do this anymore."

You felt him lay next to you to bed, hugging you in his warmth. If the school nurse comes in, you'll be in trouble. "Do you not like me anymore?" It hurts your heart that he's thinking about that. But really, this is all on you. Deep down, you always knew that you're not enough for Yuta. Even accepting to be his girlfriend seemed like a dream. Why did you think that everything is just fine?

"Why did you ask me to be your girlfriend? You deserve better."

"You are the best. Why would I settle for better?" A groan escaped from your mouth. Yuta and his words. "I asked you to be my girlfriend because I'm in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." You glared at him and he just kissed your forehead. "I wish you could see yourself the way my eyes see you then you'll know how pretty you are."

You don't know what to say. Yuta is really good with his words that it annoys you. You're supposed to break up with him. Why are you falling deeper? "I should be the one asking why you agreed to be my girlfriend. I'm not even that smart and all I know is soccer." You raised an eyebrow at that. What is he talking about? "Do you know how jealous I get when you hang out with those guys from your chess club? I wish I could be in the same club as you are."

"Yuta, they're nothing compared to you."

"Still you can talk to them about anything and I'm just here to annoy you all the time." You had to squint your eyes at him as he laughed at your face. "See? We both have insecurities. So don't think of breaking up with me. I won't let you."

"You're going to see my face for the rest of your life." He grinned which made you laugh. "You're going to get sick of me, Y/N. But I won't let you leave me."

You had to smile at him. Yuta and his words. Really, the dignity of a literature major.

He held your hand tight. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Yuta. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, kissing your forehead. "Let's eat lunch." He held your hand, not letting go of you. You were still nervous about going out of the door but he only smiled at you, assuring you.

You were getting some glances here and there. Maybe it was because you're walking next to Yuta. So you tried to slip your hand off his hold. Before you could create some distance, he wrapped his arm on your shoulder then kissed your temple. "Where are you going?" He whispered that only made you look at him. He gave you a smile which you returned timidly.

"Dude here!" One of Yuta's teammates shouted, gesturing to a vacant chair. Yes, you're dating Yuta but you have never been on the same table as the soccer jocks. That's like a higher status and you weren't ready for it. But your boyfriend forced you to sit with him, even pulling the chair for you that made his teammates tease him.

He introduced you to his friends and you just bowed shyly. "You know Yuta is so whipped by you that we always ask him when he's going to introduce you to us."

"Is it true that you aced the freshmen examinations?" One asked and you nodded.

They looked amused that surprised you, it's boring stuff. "Is it true that you taught Yuta how to properly kick a ball?" You lightly glance at the guy beside you who only smirked. He whispered 'Magnus Force' and you were reminded of the time you saw him at the soccer field, practicing his kicks.

"I think so." You whispered and the guys leaned closer to you. "Why?"

"Teach us how some time." One claimed and you just nodded.

One handed you a Rubik’s cube that made you curious. "I'm having a hard time solving this. Can you do this?" You nodded then taught him what to turn and twist that in no time, he already solved the Rubik’s cube. "Wow, you're so cool!"

"Do you have any sisters?" You shook your head. You're an only child. "Bummer."

The scenario amazed and scared you, why are they suddenly so nice to you? You gave Yuta a look when their conversation went among themselves and he just smiled at you. "I love you." You whispered and he repeated the same three words, giving you a quick kiss on your lips.

"Yah. You two!" One revolted and they looked disgusted that made your boyfriend laugh.

"Are there single girls in your class? Let's do a mixer." Your boyfriend was laughing at the absurd idea of his friends. "Or you can just break up with Yuta and date me."

"Yah! Do you want to die?" Yuta asked that made you giggle.

You shook your head, telling him that you can probably find some girls in your class. "I can't break up with Yuta. He wouldn't let me." You stated nonchalantly.

He grinned, cheeks reddening that made him so adorable. "That's my girl."

Yes, you are indeed his girl.

#yuta nakamoto #yuta nakamoto fluff #yuta nakamoto imagine #yuta nakamoto scenarios #yuta fluff #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #nct 127 fluff #yuta drabble #nct fluff #nct scenarios

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)

A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip), degradation (i think?)

a/n: i'm so nervous about this one LOL i’m super into Sakusa but I don’t know much about him tbh. he’s some good eye candy and that’s all i got. and i like the idea that he’d be a bit softer with you. anyways, hope you enjoy ✨J

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium

Other parts: Kuroo | Ushijima

Sakusa Kiyoomi

You weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you filled out the application to be Sakusa’s roommate. The application was straightforward, maybe a bit excessive, particularly in the cleaning department, but nothing you couldn’t handle. And you would’ve done almost anything to be accepted given the price was a steal and the owner of the apartment claimed they would be away frequently. So, agreeing to a few ridiculous housekeeping requests seemed reasonable to you.

All Sakusa wanted was someone to look after his apartment while he was gone, keep it tidy and clean it thoroughly before he returns. You also had to send pictures of the state of your current apartment to ‘prove’ your cleanliness. Excessive, but retrospectively—extremely worth it.

Though what you hadn’t been expecting was for the owner of the apartment to be Sakusa Kiyoomi, an outside hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals. Nor had you expected him to actually accept your application.

In all honesty, Sakusa had been a little desperate. Nobody who’d applied came even close to his expectations, and when he’d read you clean your bathroom at least once a week, it was like a breath of fresh air. And when he met you, you were pleasant and described that you mainly like to keep to yourself which sounded perfect to him. But what really convinced him was that you showed up wearing a mask. He wasn’t sure if you could tell how surprised he was, but the second he saw it, he almost accepted you on the spot.

That was over a year ago now and you and Sakusa have been living in a comfortable rhythm. When he’s home, you gladly help him clean when you have the time, and sometimes when he gets home from practice you already have dinner cooking which he can’t deny he’s come to enjoy. When he’s away, he feels safe that his home isn’t going into complete disarray or collecting dust because you’re there. And when he comes home, he loves that the apartment is nearly spotless.

By now, he almost considers your germs his own. He doesn’t mind sitting near you eating dinner, or next to each other on the couch. In fact, he finds he rather enjoys your presence. But lately, the two of you have been sitting closer on the couch and table, and when he’s gone, he actually misses you, which he will never admit. Coming home to a clean apartment and even you just popping your head into the hallway to greet him before retreating to your room is enough for him.

His growing problem is that he isn’t sure if it’s enough anymore. And it became terribly clear to him when you came to one of his games for the first time.

After the game you waited for him outside the locker room, feeling a little out of place even though Sakusa gave you a VIP pass to be allowed back here. When he emerges, he finds you swarmed by his teammates, politely indulging them and telling them you’re just waiting for someone. It makes his skin prickle in the same way it does when people touch him unprompted. Even worse, Atsumu is far too close to you for his comfort.

You seem fine though, brightly greeting him when he approaches, much to the shock of his teammates.

“What’s a pretty girl doin’ knowing our ‘Omi, hey?” Atsumu drawls, sending a sly smile your way as Sakusa frowns at the nickname.

Before you can open your mouth, amused by the nickname you’ve never heard before, Sakusa interjects, “She’s my roommate.” Rendering the rest of them speechless (which is quite the feat), he takes you gently by the arm so the two of you can leave. Two things shock them: that Sakusa has a roommate and that he touched you.

“They aren’t so bad,” you grin up at him as he scowls, the two of you heading down the hallway towards the exit.

“You don’t have to spend hours on end with them.”

You shrug, knowing Sakusa is a man of unique circumstances when it comes to other people. A thought that makes you stop in your tracks, your hand shooting out to grip his arm to stop him, surprising him enough that he doesn’t recoil from your touch. “We should go this way,” you say, pointing down a different hallway.

He just looks at you, then down at your hand still wrapped around his forearm which you quickly snatch away. “Why? This way will be closer to the car.”

“I came by this way earlier and there was a group of your fans waiting for you,” you grimace. “I’d guess they’re probably still there.”

He frowns, grumbling to himself, but starting towards the hallway you pointed out. He’d very much like to avoid that situation if possible. The two of you make it out unscathed and un-swarmed by his avid fans, and on the way out to the car he can’t help thinking how much he appreciates how considerate you are. Anyone else would have told him he’s being ridiculous and to meet his fans. Not you, however. You always take his feelings into account.

That was weeks ago now. And none of his teammates have let it go since.

For you, when you first moved in, you swore to yourself you’d never fall for him. Not even after you accidentally walked in on him working out in his home gym, his lean and muscular arms out on display, a thin sheen of sweat dampening his dark curls—you nearly combusted. You forced yourself to put it out of your mind, because how could you fall for him? His annoyingly attractive face on billboards haunts you everywhere you go, and he was a stand-offish and a little neurotic for months. But as time as passed, he grew on you.

You now find his need for cleanliness endearing. Particularly now that he’s seemingly accepted you into his ‘bubble’. You’ll never forget the moment he touched you for the first time of his own accord. It was simple, nothing to think anything of really, but for him it was a big deal. It was just a brief touch on the shoulder while you were washing dishes thanking you for dinner. Afterwards, you took note of every time he touched you. One that stands out the most was when he wanted to escape his teammates at the very first game of his you attended. It was firmer, more of a silent plea from him that stunned you.

Really, you could be perfectly happy living like this. Except that your thoughts wander to him far too often now. Especially when he’s gone. It feels weird not having him around, scolding you for missing one spot on the counter, or sitting quietly next to you on the couch—you think about him a lot. His silent presence is strangely comforting, and it doesn’t help you watch his games while he’s away.

He is beautiful to watch. To the point you can’t even believe you live with him. Your efforts to keep your feelings in check were futile. You get so riled up that recently you’ve begun tiding yourself over to the thought of him. At first, you felt pretty ridiculous, especially since it’s hard to imagine him wanting to be…dirty like that, but eventually you just let your imagination run wild. You let yourself believe that with you, he’d be different.

It’s become a habit now while he’s gone. You know it’s awful. Yet you can’t stop yourself. Not when you haven’t been with someone since moving in with Sakusa. At first it was because you didn’t want to piss him off by bringing some stranger into the apartment. But now, you don’t even think you could. Not when you know you’ll only think about him the entire time.

He left only yesterday for his away game, but you’re already missing him. Already foolishly letting your thoughts wander into darker territory that you keep locked up tight when he’s around. His game is tomorrow, so you take the opportunity while you’re almost one-hundred percent certain he won’t come home early. On several occasions he’s come back a day early, but never before a game. Always after.

Your new favorite spot is the shower. Mostly because you can imagine him maybe letting loose a bit while the two of you are actively being cleaned in the process. Once you’ve stripped and the warm water is cascading down your back, it’s easy to imagine him.

You’ve pictured him so many times before that sometimes it really does feel like he’s there. That it’s his hands trailing down your sides, resting your hips, his mouth gently kissing along your neck as his hands move lower. The thought of him towering over you, his curly hair damp from the water, those dark eyes boring into you has you trembling in anticipation.

You’re already soaking when you run a finger between your folds, gripping the tiles when it reaches your clit, wondering what Sakusa’s fingers would feel like instead. Dipping your head, you let out a small, “Kiyoomi,” as you picture him whispering filthy things in your ear.

When Sakusa enters the apartment, he wrinkles his nose under his mask at the slight mess. Though, he supposes he can’t blame you. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another three days. But the other team cancelled unexpectedly, unable to get to the destination due to terrible weather. He hears the shower running in the other room, so he pulls off his mask and gets down to work. He can talk to you about it later.

Though he can’t help imagining you in the shower. Your body freshly clean, water running down your back, between your breasts, and along your legs. His mind gets so clouded by the image that he doesn’t realize he’s been scrubbing the same spot on the counter for a few minutes now. He’s jolted back to reality when he hears a sharp, “Ah!” emit from the bathroom.

He drops his cleaning supplies and quickly strides towards the bathroom thinking you’ve fallen in the shower. The door is slightly open, steam trickling into the hallway, and before he can knock and ask if you’re alright he hears your voice again.

“Oh—Kiyoomi...”

His hand stops mid-air, eyes widening with the realization of what you’ve just said. He pauses for a moment, debating what he should do. He can’t deny he thinks about you more often than he should, and more frequently as of late. And to him, the shower seems like the perfect place. So, he pushes the door open quietly, unzipping his jacket and saying into the silence, “Did you say my name?”

You almost take a tumble into the tub in surprise at hearing his actual voice in the bathroom with you. Close enough to lead you to believe he is in the bathroom. Yanking your fingers out of you, you push back the curtain, intent on yelling at him for intruding on you and scaring the shit out of you, though your voice dies in your throat.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom is Sakusa Kiyoomi, in all his infuriatingly delicious glory, pulling off his shirt and moving to rid himself of his track pants as well. He’s looking at you, deadpan, eyes moving down your body but stopping where the shower curtain is still covering you.

After a moment, you collect your senses, managing to choke out, “Wh—what are you doing?” Just your luck that he came home early at this exact moment and that he heard you. You’d curl up into a ball of embarrassment right now if you weren’t so shocked by his demeanor.

Now that he’s completely unclothed you struggle to keep your eyes above his chest, gripping the curtain harder when he steps forward and says casually, “It was a long flight, I want to take a shower.”

You gape at him. “Right now?!”

He just takes a hold of the curtain, pulling it open slightly so he can step in next to you, and you’re so stunned you make no motion to stop him. And now you’re finding him towering over you in the small space of the shower, so close you can hardly breathe. All the air gets punched out of your lungs when his large hand rests on your hip, turning you so your back is facing him so he can lean down at tease in your ear, “You asked me to come in here, after all.”

All of the heat leaves your body, pooling directly between your legs at his tone. He wastes no time, lathering his hands up with soap and running them along your sides before reaching forward to cup your breasts in his hands, thumbs roaming aimlessly along your nipples, the soap foaming between his fingers.

“Were you thinking about me in the shower?” He asks, his tone dropping into something dark and dangerous. “Such a filthy girl.” He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger making your knees tremble and the growing need between your legs even worse.

“Sa—Sakusa,” you moan, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, getting the full view of his hungry eyes boring into you.

He frowns, pinching your nipples slightly harder, reprimanding, “That isn’t what you called me earlier.”

You writhe in his embrace, gripping his arms, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him as you correct yourself. “Kiyoomi.” He smirks at you, relenting on your nipples as reward, though continuing his soft ministrations.

You can’t help your ass arching backwards, coming into contact with his hardening member, giving him a bit of his own medicine as you grind against him. He hisses through his teeth, admonishing, “What a needy slut.”

“Fuck,” you mewl, pressing against him even harder. You can’t explain what his voice saying those things is doing to you—all you know is you need him to fucking touch you already. “Please, Kiyoomi,” you beg, lifting your arms up and around his neck behind you, your fingers twining into his wet hair. “Make a fucking mess of me.”

He groans deep in his throat, rutting up against your behind and wrapping one strong arm around your middle while the other trails towards the apex of your thighs. “Is that what you want? To be my dirty little slut?” Your fingers grip his hair even tighter, nodding embarrassingly quickly, standing up on your tiptoes to get his hand any closer to where you desperately need him.

Once his fingers reach your core, sliding up through the slick gathered between your legs and towards your clit; your knees nearly give out from under you. If it wasn’t for his arm around you keeping you up, you would have sunk to the floor at the sheer pleasure that sweeps through your body. His fingers are infinitely better than yours and having his solid frame and prominent hard-on pressing behind you almost sends you through the roof.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks quietly against the skin of your neck, his hips grinding up against your ass, which you gladly return with pressure of your own.

“Yes—yes,” you say, gasping when sinks a finger knuckle deep into your heat, quickly adding another and praising you for how well you’re taking it. He watches the space where his fingers are disappearing into you with a sinful expression, enjoying intensely how you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he whispers, setting your skin on fire, wanting nothing more than to keep being exactly that for him. He smiles devilishly, in a way you would have never imagined he could in your wildest dreams. An almost savage glint in his eyes as he presses harshly on your clit, eliciting a choked sob out of you, and making you dig your nails into the arm wrapped around you.

“Please—,” you say, head lolling on his shoulder allowing him to finally kiss you fully. Surprising you as his tongue slides into your mouth, his fingers relentless, his free arm now helping you drive his fingers even deeper. Voice coming out in a pathetic whine that makes his cock twitch, you plead, “God—Kiyoomi, please!”

“Use your words.”

Thoughts far too hazy to be any sort of embarrassed you hold his dark gaze. “Fuck me.”

Suddenly, his fingers are out of you and he’s bending you over, the head of his cock pressing into your dripping entrance before he sheathes himself completely in you, a hiss escaping him. His head drops to rest his forehead on your shoulder, droplets from his wet hair sliding down your chest as he composes himself from how fucking amazing you feel around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, the closest he’s come to breaking his resolve from just fucking you within an inch of your life. “So tight for such a needy slut,” he grits out, hands resting on your hips as he pulls out only to thrust into you again. His fingers dig into your hips to slam your ass into his, increasing his pace to the point you can barely see straight. Your own fingers scrabble for any sort of purchase on the tiles in front of you, desperately attempting to ground yourself against his brutal pace.

“You feel so fucking good,” you praise, earning you his hand reaching down to lift your leg onto the edge of the tub allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

The lewd sound of skin slapping together, the two of you panting and murmuring nonsense to each other, and the shower continuing to run fills the space as he continues to pound ruthlessly into you is all you’ve ever dreamed about. As he litters kisses and soft bites along your spine, the pressure in your stomach builds and builds, and before it bursts you gasp, “Oh my god—Kiyoomi.”

He notices your body starting to tense up, your back arching and fingers twitching as your orgasm comes hurtling towards you. Taking the opportunity, he pulls your body up, your back flush against his chest, hips never faltering and fingers finding your clit to bring you even closer to release.

“Cum for me,” he orders, voice so cold you feel a little embarrassed by how much it turns you on. But you know that’s just how he sounds sometimes and he’s probably playing it up a bit for you. “Cum on my cock like the good little slut you are.”

That sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body convulsing as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, prolonged by him continuing to plunge into you. The sensation is so overwhelming you start writhing in his grip, attempting to ride it out while he holds you firmly against him restricting your movement.

He can’t hold it back much longer, your walls clamping down around him nearly made him cum on the spot, but he holds you through your orgasm, forcing you to endure the full brunt of it while he continues fucking you. Though your body relaxing against his, your fingers winding into his hair, and your voice asking him so politely to cum for you makes him lose it. He grips your hips tightly, jackhammering into you chasing his release. Eventually his hips still, thighs shuddering as he concentrates on keeping the both of you standing while he cums.

The two of you stand there in silence, water still running, as his forehead rests on your back, both of your chests heaving at the exertion you just expended. Your heart is thundering against your chest, unsure what to say and hoping he’ll say something first. He groans, relinquishing your hips from his death grip and pulling his softening cock out of you.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by what he says first.

“We should rinse off,” he suggests, despite the fact he’s still leaning on your back, hands now resting harmlessly on your hips.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching for the soap and moving out of his grasp. He just stands there watching you, the water streaming onto his back, a completely passive expression on his face. If it was anyone else, they might have interpreted it as boredom or that he’s uninterested but to you—he just looks content.

You motion for him to turn around and start lathering the soap along his back, relishing the free chance to roam your hands all over his incredibly built body. Peering around his shoulder, you find him with his eyes closed, the smallest smile curving his lips as he enjoys your hands massaging his back. You smile to yourself, moving on to find his shampoo and gently scrubbing it into his hair, tucking the small pleased groan he makes into the back of your brain to remember later.

After a few quiet moments he says, “The apartment’s a mess.”

That makes you frown, a sour expression adorning your face. Poking his side, you reply, “Well, you weren’t supposed to be home for another three days!” He turns around, washing the soap off his back and out of his hair while you take no time to start exploring the expanse of his chest with your soapy fingers. When he opens his eyes, looking down at you, you pout. “Can’t we leave it for tomorrow?”

As much as he dislikes that, he can’t help but agree, finding the prospect of curling up in bed with you much more enticing.

Once he’s finished, he returns the favor washing your body, and the both of you step out of the shower to dry off. You pull on the pajama’s you’d left in here for after your shower that you thought you’d be taking alone while he simply wraps the towel around his waist, making it almost impossible not to stare at him as he waits for you.

You’re surprised when he leads you to his bedroom, changing into pajama’s of his own as you slide under the covers. They smell like detergent and the faint scent of Sakusa’s body wash, wrapping around you pleasantly—you take an indulgent breath, letting the scent soak into your senses. It gets even better when he joins you, hand resting on your bare arm, fingers drawing small circles against your skin. He gives you a soft kiss to the forehead, enjoying your freshly showered body against his beneath the sheets and your fingers in his hair.

“You know I honestly didn’t think you knew how to kiss,” you joke, tapping his chin, “With the mask and all.”

He peers down at you, the subtlest glint in his eyes as he replies, “Have I changed your mind?”

Your resulting cheeky smile makes his pants feel a little tight. “I think you might need to show me again.”

#haikyuu x reader #Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader #Sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #sakusa scenario #sakusa imagine #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi scenario #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu!!

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sondepoch · 3 years

Text

Open Doors (Lucifer x Reader)

You know when he's coming before even he does. The Avatar of Pride is simply so predictable in his actions—his loyalties have been laid out so clearly that anyone smart enough can figure out his next move, his next action, his next thought. You've told him more than once that he needs to learn to conceal himself better, that he's no longer in the realm of light, that the people here will take advantage of him as soon as they figure out how. The demon never listens.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

You know when he's coming before even he does, it seems. The Avatar of Pride is simply so predictable in his actions—his loyalties have been laid out so clearly that anyone smart enough can figure out his next move, his next action, his next thought.

You've told him more than once that he needs to learn to conceal himself better, that he's no longer in the realm of light, that the people here will take advantage of him as soon as they figure out how.

The demon never listens, of course.

His own pride always speaks louder in his mind than your words.

"Welcome back." It's not a particularly warm welcome given the bored drawl of your voice, but it's what you're willing to offer him. You watch his reflection in the window, lips curving into a smile when you realize that he didn't bring you another useless gift this time.

Good, you think at the back of your mind. It's about time he shed those angelic habits.

"I'm here because—"

"I know why you're here," You interrupt smoothly, turning around to face him. "You always come here for the same reason, Lucifer. What went wrong this time?"

"The bill."

Ah. You close your eyes and try not to remember how irritated you were when you were reading the newspaper yesterday morning. The entire front page was devoted to covering the recent bill that had been passed by the crown prince, an isolationist policy which brings the Devildom a step closer to hell.

Yes, it makes sense that Lucifer would be troubled over that.

"Lucifer, I want to remind you that all the aid I have given you has been so that you can improve upon the Devildom, not ruin it by allowing such ridiculous legislation to be passed."

The demon does a good job of holding himself upright through your withering gaze.

"It's not my fault Diavolo passed it," Lucifer says, looking offended. His wings bristle under your stare. On a normal day, you'd laugh at the sight. Right now, you're more preoccupied with the useless excuses spilling from the man's lips. "He had already decided when he came to speak to me about it. I couldn't do anything."

"You could have." You stand from your chair to walk over to the alcohol cabinet. You can already tell that this will be a long conversation, that you'll both be wanting something to drink. "You could have, and you would have if you weren't so weak. You were too busy trying to get our demon prince to like you to dare go against him, weren't you? When he asked for your opinion, you didn't even try to comment on how detrimental a tax break like this would be for the lower classes. You just nodded your head dumbly and told him it was a good idea, didn't you?"

The glare Lucifer shoots you is stormy. You're almost surprised at the intensity of it. The last time the two of you met, he was much more meek.

"I need to be on Diavolo's good side to protect my brothers. I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe."

"They're not your 'brothers' anymore now that you're down in the Devildom."

"We are a family. Us falling changes nothing."

The two of you glare at each other for a moment longer (well, Lucifer glares; you really just stare at him in disappointment), but you finally glance away to pull a bottle of Demonus from a shelf. Two glasses follow.

"Don't give me that swill. I know you have better drinks."

Your lips curve upward into a smile Lucifer can't see. He really has begun to grow into his own, now. He's still faltering, still a baby compared to demons like you who have been here for so much longer, but he's lost the angelic sweetness which once compelled him to be so helplessly docile every time he came to your home.

"And why would I waste my better drinks on you?" You counter, quietly trying to see just how far you can push him.

"Because although you've been here longer than me, I outrank you. And you will give me what I want."

You grin.

You easily take hold of the Celestial wine you keep hidden for special nights, something you always keep on hand because no matter how good expensive Demonus can be, Lucifer is right. It really is nothing but vile swill when compared to the intoxicating drink of your homeland.

"So tell me, Lucifer." You carry the two glasses of Celestial wine over to him. "If you're so much greater than me, why is it that you're coming to me for advice?"

The demon falters.

A laugh spills from your lips.

"It's fine, you can relax. You've certainly grown. I'm impressed with your ability to stand up for yourself. You're just as predictable as usual, but I dare say you've finally begun to act like a real demon. Enough to intimidate a decent portion of the population." You take a sip from your glass. "Though I doubt I'll ever fall into that bracket."

Lucifer scowls. "I didn't come here to be ridiculed."

He stands up as if motioning to leave.

At the back of your mind, you know it is a falsity; you know that he came here for a reason, and he won't leave until he gets the advice he needs. Briefly, you entertain the notion of letting him leave, of bidding him farewell and taking the expensive wine glass in his hands for yourself, but you ultimately decide not to. Perhaps it's your old angelic instincts compelling you to do so, or perhaps it's your quiet desire to see Lucifer bloom like the flower you know he will be; either way, you don't want him leaving just yet.

"Sit down," You command, and Lucifer has the wit to hide his inner relief. It would have been too humiliating for him to leave you and have to come crawling back, an insult to his pride. "You came here for a reason. And the bill Diavolo passed was bad, but you're intelligent enough to know how to fix it without my help."

Your eyes narrow when you see the bob of Lucifer's throat, slow and nervous.

Ah, you realize, instantly understanding.

There's only one thing in the world that can make the Avatar of Pride so anxious.

"What did your brothers do this time?"

And so Lucifer breaks completely.

A small part of you sighs when you realize that the stormy facade earlier was just that: a facade. The stress on Lucifer's face as he narrates the most recent tales of his brothers tells you all you need to know about how he's acclimating to the Devildom. He doesn't bother hiding anything from you, sparing no details as he quietly pleads for your help, your aid, your advice as he always does when he comes to your abode in these faraway woods.

"Please," He mumbles at the end, knowing that brute force will never make you bend to his will but that honesty might. "I can't...I won't let Diavolo take them away from me."

You sigh.

"When will you ever learn?" You mumble softly, standing up and walking to Lucifer. He's sitting on an armchair, head turned to the ground, so you kneel in front of him and force him to meet your eyes. "Lucifer, I need you to understand that you have to let your brothers go. They will forever be a weakness, and demons feast on weakness. Why do you think the Demon King kept you all together? He wants to keep you collared like a dog because he knows you'll never step out of line with your brothers next to you. You need to accept that you can't protect them."

"I can't." Lucifer looks desperate. "I can't let them go."

"You…" You have to, you want to say. But the truth is that you know Lucifer won't listen. He's simply too angelic. Too pure. Too full of love to abandon his brothers and become a true demon.

"How did you do it?" He whispers. "How did you manage to abandon all your weaknesses when you fell?"

"We're not here to talk about me," You respond quickly, standing up. You hate talking about your fall, hate thinking about it.

"But you can—"

"No." The look you shoot Lucifer is harsher than anything you've ever shown him. He doesn't cower under your expression as you expect him to, but he does back off.

"Fine, then. How do you propose I fix this?" He gestures for you to sit in the armchair next to him, eyebrows furrowing in irritation. "Without abandoning my brothers," He adds, reading your mind.

You remain silent for a moment, thinking. After all, based on what the demon told you, his brothers really have worked him into a bind this time. But millennia of living in these woods has taught you more than how to see in the darkness of your study; the solution to Lucifer's problems is there; he just won't like it.

Indeed, when you finally give him your advice—that getting his brothers in line by taking control and holding them in place with an iron fist might be the best way to keep them happy in the long run—the scowl on his face tell you all you need to know. His fists tense, and his throat bobs the way it always does when he bites back a snarky comment.

But the demon doesn't counter your suggestion.

"You already knew," You whisper, almost feeling bad for him. "You already knew that this was the only way."

"I was hoping you'd have a better solution," Lucifer mumbles, tipping his glass back and downing what little wine remains. "But if that's what it takes to keep them safe, I'll do it."

The I'll do anything for them is implied.

"I probably won't visit for a while." The demon stands, and you know he's preparing to leave. "If I truly want to do what you say, I won't much free time to come out here."

That's fair. Your home is miles away from his, a three-day journey even if he flies at top speed with his wings.

"But I thank you for your help," Lucifer says, as always.

"Demons don't give thanks," You chastise him, clicking your tongue. When you see the sour expression on his face, you relent. "But you're welcome.”

You're surprised to find that Lucifer holds true to his word. He really doesn't visit for a long time, days stretching into weeks stretching into months.

It almost makes you long for the old days, where he used to stop by every week. And the next few centuries, when his visits to your bungalow began to fade into a bi-weekly event. Even the millennia after that, where he'd only be in need of your advice once a month.

For the past hundred years or so, the Avatar of Pride's visits have grown irregular. Sometimes you'd see him twice in a single week. Sometimes once in two months. But there was always an unspoken I'll be back, and you were content with that.

But now, it's been nearly eight months since you last saw Lucifer.

You're not sure if the fact should make you happy or sad.

The truth of the matter is that Lucifer was the only company you had. And as much as you mocked him for his angelic habits, his presence was a welcome change from the silence of the woods that surround you. You originally built your home here because of the isolation, because it was the only place in the Devildom without pollution, the only place in the Devildom where you could look at the sky and see the stars of your homeland where all your friends and family lived.

You stopped caring about them millennia ago, though.

And Lucifer's visits, frustrating as the demon is, were a pleasant change.

The demon appears to be doing well for himself, according to the newspapers. It seems that he really did take your advice—not your first suggestion, to discard his brothers and find strength on his own, but your latter suggestion, where you urged him to learn how to control the six. It seems that he's enrolled them all in a school to keep them busy, a smart decision that you're proud of him for making.

But every positive piece of news you learn of Lucifer is always offset by a sick feeling in your stomach, like a knife twisting in your gut.

Because the sad, selfish truth of the matter is that Lucifer always came to you for advice,

And based on the reports you've been seeing in the daily newspapers, he no longer needs it.

You have to push the thought from your mind as you stare out the window of your study, trying to watch the Devildom crows as they soar through the trees.

You're familiar with some of these birds. They've taken a liking to you over the past few millennia, following you around and peering in and out of your window. You've particularly bonded well with one; an oddly well-groomed crow with arrow-like markings that point downward on its body. It often disappears for weeks on end, but it always comes back to the woods, back to watching over you as if it's your personal protector.

You squint, watching that same Devildom crow perform its mating dance on another, before the other bird flies away. A smile blooms on your face, but it's not the birds you're thinking of.

No, your mind is lost in memories of when Lucifer first came to you.

You remember staring out this very window when seven stars fell from the sky. You knew what it meant as soon as you saw their light approaching, still remembering the pain of your own fall. What you didn't expect was for one of those stars to show up at your door mere hours later, the angel turned demon wasting no time in throwing himself at your feet to beg for advice.

When he fell, Lucifer was convinced that you were the only person who could help him. You didn't quite understand how to express that you were just as demonic as everyone around you, that you were not the angel he seemed to be looking for...but the man needed a shoulder to lean on, so you readily helped him.

If you had known that giving him advice once, pointing him in the direction of the royal palace and advising that he rip two of his wings out before the Demon King got jealous and did it himself, would have led to a millennia-long relationship, you might have turned the Avatar of Pride away.

Now that you know what it's like to be without him, though, you're glad you didn't.

These past eight months have been long. Painfully long.

There's no haste in your pace as you walk over to the familiar alcohol cabinet, reaching for a glass. Usually, you make it a point to avoid drinking while alone—alcoholism is an unfortunate path for an immortal to take—but today, just today, you think you'll make an exception.

You reach for the Demonus.

Swill, someone says at the back of your mind.

You grimace, abruptly pushing it aside to grab a bottle of Celestial wine.

"I never thought you were one for drinking alone."

You turn around in alarm, your demon form instantly manifesting and your wings spreading out in an immediate attempt to intimidate whoever stepped into your home. You don't even think about the possibility that it might be Lucifer, too used to being able to predict his visits to think twice about the possibility of him doing something unexpected.

"I'm impressed with myself," The demon at the door breathes quietly. He looks utterly unfazed by the fact that your wings are out, that you're baring your teeth in what is supposed to be a terrifying display. "This is the first time I think I've properly surprised you."

The proud, almost cheeky smile that spreads on the demon's face somehow cools you down.

"You…" You don't bother saying anything in response, trying your best to make sure that your wings don't puff up stupidly the way Lucifer's sometimes do whenever he gets flustered. "I wasn't expecting a visit. You have no reason to be here."

You aren't sure if you should be proud of Lucifer or not. From the day the two of you met, you've been telling that he needs to be less predictable, that he can't let other demons be one step ahead of him.

This time, he was one step ahead of you. You're entirely uncertain how to feel about it.

"I do have a reason to be here. You just didn't expect me because I'm not here for advice." Lucifer fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve before stepping forward. "Though I apologize if I startled you."

You roll your eyes.

"I've told you this before. Demons—"

"Don't apologize. Yes. I know." Lucifer walks over to you, pulling two glasses from the overhead shelf. "My apology remains."

You shake your head softly. The progress Lucifer is making is winded, the man making strides in certain areas but still entirely out of tune with what it means to be a demon in other regards. You don't bother commenting on it, merely accepting his aid when he holds one of the glasses up for you to pour into.

The two of you walk to your usual positions once your glasses are filled: Lucifer, on one of the two armchairs that face your desk and you, sitting at the chair of your desk. It's the position you took when the two of you first met, and it's the position you've found yourselves in ever since, a perfect picture of comfort for both of you.

"It's been a while," You say after a long moment of just staring at each other. It's hard to keep the accusatory tone from your voice. "Why are you here? Your life seems to be going smoothly from what I've read in the newspapers. Have one of your brothers done something to get you in trouble again?"

"My brothers are always doing things to get me in trouble," Lucifer mumbles under his breath. "But I'm not here to talk about them."

"Oh? Do tell.."

"I'd actually like to discuss you."

You narrowly avoid choking on your wine.

"Me?" You arch an incredulous eyebrow at the man. He's only ever come to you when in need of advice, in need of help. Conversations have always revolved around him, never you. "Why are you really here, Lucifer? You don't need to get on my good side if you're trying to request a favor."

"You mistake my intentions." Lucifer sits up straighter in his chair. "I am here out of...consider it a thirst for knowledge. There are certain questions you've left ignored in all our time together. I'd like to know their answers."

"Ah, so you're here to sate your curiosity." The thought dampens your spirits a bit. You can't figure out why.

"Yes."

You stare at your reflection in the glass of wine. It does bring you slight pleasure to learn that Lucifer is, at last, in a place in his life where he no longer needs to come to you for advice but has the luxury to speak of other things instead. It means that he either no longer faces the troubles that once plagued him or has finally learned how to handle such things himself, both of which are steps forward in his journey to becoming a true demon.

But his excuse sounds fickle.

Curiosity is not something the Avatar of Pride is known for.

You regard him dubiously as you take another sip from your drink, trying to come up with any other ulterior motives that the demon could possibly be harboring. When you come up with nothing, you relent.

"Ask away."

"I only have one question."

You're confident that you've left more than one of his questions unanswered in all your time together, but you gesture for him to go on.

"How did you abandon all your weaknesses when you fell?"

Ah, you think. Of course.

"I doubt you need the answer to that," You drawl with a bored lilt, leaning forward to rest your chin on your palm. "You've already figured out how to get rid of most of your own weaknesses. Well, I suppose your brothers still remain, but your alliance with Diavolo will act as a bandaid on that for now."

"That isn't an answer to my question." Lucifer crosses his arms. "You've always gone on and on about how I need to be strong. So tell me, how did you do it? I've thought about this more than once in our time apart, so don't think you can avoid the question."

At the repetition, you remain stubbornly silent, not bothering to give the demon any response. You're positive that you can outwait this man; after all, isn't that all you've been doing for the past eight months?

The only issue is that Lucifer's steely gaze never leaves your eyes.

Some part of you is proud of the demon for the way he's currently behaving. It's truly demonic, the way he's pushing forward to get an answer to his question with no regard for the fact that you don't want to give him one. And that stare he's shooting you is genuinely chilling, enough to make a lower demon piss themselves in fear. Not you, of course, but it's still improvement.

It's this part of you, the part that has always been a little soft on the demon, that finally compels you to open your mouth.

"Lucifer, you remember the day I was banished."

"I do."

"And you remember the reason?"

"I do."

"Then that's that." You take a sip of your drink, abruptly wishing that you had taken the Demonus out instead. Celestial wine, for all its properties, can no longer intoxicate you. The liquid courage you were hoping for when you reached for the glass has been barred to you by your own hand.

"I was a bad angel," You finally manage to say. "And bad angels make for good demons. Father casting me out of heaven was the best thing he ever could have done for me. I never had any weaknesses to cast aside because the Devildom is where I belong. I never had to change to fit in here, Lucifer. I was never like you."

But the Avatar of Pride frowns.

"Do you truly believe that nonsense?" He asks. "When Father banished you, claiming that you didn't have enough 'love' in your heart to be an angel, did you believe him?"

"It wasn't a matter of belief, Lucifer. I knew —"

"You knew what?" He snaps. "That you didn't possess an emotion in your heart that every angel is born with—a defining pillar of our people?"

"I'm not a part of your 'people,'" You respond, your voice unwavering. "Father fucked up when he made me. I was born a demon, even if I lived in the Celestial Realm. I hate to break it to you, Lucifer, but I've never been the stupidly innocent angel you seem to think I was. And I know you seem to worship the idea of love, but I've never been weak enough to have any of it in my heart."

The demon stands up, and now his expression is dark and thunderous, stormy and terrifying.

It makes you flinch.

"I used to think you were smart," he practically spits. He turns to leave, his long jacket rippling out behind him as he walks away from you, and you can't help but sense that when the demon walks out of your room this time, he really might not come back.

"What do you think, then?" You challenge, not getting up from your seat. "Do you truly believe Father was wrong about me?"

"Do you truly believe he wasn't?" Lucifer responds in disbelief. It's the first time he's staring at you with such pity, the first time he's looking at you as if you need to be helped and not the other way around.

The thought makes you angry.

"I haven't spent millennia helping you find your place in the Devildom so you could insult me like this." You let your hands tighten into fists. "I am a demon. A true demon. Father was right about me, and I am happy for it. I am proud to be who I am, and—"

"How can you say that?" He waits for a moment, and you can sense his quiet hope that you'll prove him wrong. "If you truly believe that, what do you call this then?" Lucifer gestures around the room, the one the two of you sit in every time he comes to ask you for advice. "What do you call everything you've done for me? You're a fool if you think that this is something a 'true demon' would—"

"Get out."

The words slip past your lips before you can decide you actually want them, but you don't dare take back a word.

You can't explain why Lucifer's next response seems to hurt you.

"Gladly."

The anger you were feeling from your fight with Lucifer cools down within minutes. It's easy to recompose yourself in the absence of his overwhelming presence, easy to relax when he isn't snapping annoying words into your ear.

It's utterly unsurprising to find that Lucifer is the same way.

He reenters your room not twenty-four hours after your disagreement, and by then, you're waiting for him. You can read his mind even before he steps inside your quarters, can already tell that he and his angelic instincts feel guilty for angering you when you've done nothing but help him.

"I expect you're here to apologize," You tell him the moment you see him, crossing your arms.

"Demons don't apologize," The Avatar of Pride responds with a light smile, all earlier signs of frustration having vanished.

"They don't, but I imagine you'll do it anyway."

"Keen observation," Lucifer remarks. "And an accurate one. I apologize if you think I insulted you."

I apologize if you think I insulted you.

You scoff.

"That might be the worst apology I've ever heard. Because you did insult me, and you were quite frank about doing so." An amused smile crosses your lips. "But I will accept it nonetheless."

"I didn't insult you," Lucifer mutters.

You raise an eyebrow. "Your insinuation that I have love in my heart was an insult. I'm a demon. Proud to be one. And demons do not love."

"Then humor me," Lucifer begins, taking his usual seat. His voice is calm, relaxed. As if he genuinely wants to discuss this with you as a conversation, not an argument. "If you do not have love in your heart, would you care to explain what this is?"

The demon casually gestures at himself, leaning back in the armchair to await your response.

You try to come up with an answer.

There's not a single doubt in your mind about what Lucifer is referring to—the sessions you've had with him from the day he fell from grace, the little offerings of advice you've given him from the day you met.

"It isn't love," Is the only answer you can come up with.

"Are you sure?" Lucifer asks, and this time, his voice isn't pushy. He's being oddly gentle. "Because I was an angel more recently than you, and I remember very clearly what love looks like."

You don't bother responding to him.

Lucifer seems content with that.

He isn't shooting you his usual icy stare, the demon instead opting to gaze at the various pieces of art you have in your room. He's looked at each of them thousands of times with how often he used to come here, but you leave him to it, busying yourself with the stack of papers on your desk. There's nothing important here—no, you've chosen to live your immortal days out in isolation where nothing important truly ever happens—but you still take interest in the various maps and charts lying around, continuing your leisurely comparisons of different source materials.

You manage to distract yourself thoroughly within the next hour, almost forgetting the presence of the demon in front of you. You don't notice when his eyes shift away from the paintings on the wall in favor of glancing at you instead, utterly unaware of how he watches your movements.

The demon reminds you of his presence with a cough.

There's an urge to speak up, an involuntary twitch that makes you want to remind him that demons aren't polite, that he doesn't need to cough to get your attention, but you manage to hold back.

"These past few months, I've had free time, but never been enough to come visit." Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to where this is coming from. You're about to tell Lucifer that he doesn't need to justify his absence, that it's okay he didn't visit for so long, but he speaks up before you can. "I'm telling you because I expect the same thing will happen over the next few months."

Oh.

You try not to let your disappointment show.

Lucifer stands from his seat and begins walking to you, abandoning the armchair he usually stations himself at in favor of standing next to you.

"All that time apart helped me do a lot of thinking." Lucifer rests his hand on the arm of your chair. You can't take your eyes off his red gloves, your fingers suddenly twitching with the urge to touch. "In these next few months, I suggest you do the same."

"Stop being vague," You snap, irritation budding. "Say what you mean or don't say anything at all, Lucifer."

"I'm telling you to think about love," The demon whispers into your ear, chuckling. The sound distracts you, rendering you immobile as Lucifer pulls away and straightens himself up.

"Because after eight months, I'm quite certain that I know my thoughts on the matter."

It was a confession.

After nearly one year of deliberating over the demon's words, that's what you've concluded: Lucifer's last words to you were a confession of love.

It's stupid, you think. You should have known that interacting with a demon like Lucifer—a demon who's never been a proper demon, too focused on clinging to his holy roots for his own good—wouldn't end up well.

A part of you feels sorry for the man because you're now confident that whatever emotion he harbors for you isn't reciprocated. But at the same time, you're unbothered. Because you're a demon. You do not care for others, and you do not love others. Your only priority is yourself, and your whole advice-based arrangement with Lucifer was never anything more than a mechanism to pass time, something your brain went along with out of sheer boredom.

And for all Lucifer's intellect, he was wrong about this one thing.

You don't love him.

It's a thought that resonates through your mind as you wait for him, confident that the demon will be walking through your front door within hours. Right now, you're sitting perched on your desk—not at it, but literally on it—eyes lit up in devilish excitement for the first time in millennia.

You already have it planned out: the demon will walk saunter through your door as he always does, all proud smiles and confident grins. You won't even give him time to greet you, you'll just order him to kiss you the moment you see him. Lucifer will obey, because he always obeys—and once you've had a taste, once you've felt his lips against your own, once you can confidently say that you gave it a shot, you'll push him back and tell him he was wrong.

You smile at the thought, already thinking of the stuttered apologies Lucifer will have to give you when he realizes that you really are a demon at heart. That the Celestial Realm might have been your birthplace, but it was never your home. That you were right and he was wrong.

After having him behave so arrogantly towards you, the very thought has you buzzing with excitement.

You can't help but smile as you glance down at the newspaper. It arrived at your doorstep three days late, as is to be expected when you live in the middle of an isolated woodland, but that just makes it better because the main headline is an announcement of the arrival of a weeklong holiday for the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

Which means that the holiday began three days ago.

Which happens to be the exact amount of time it takes for Lucifer to fly to your home.

And despite not having seen the demon for nearly a year, you're confident that it's your doorstep Lucifer will be coming to on this holiday. It's this confidence that pulls a broad smile to your face, one-part excitement and two-parts anticipation.

Doubt only begins to set in after hours have passed.

You begin to fidget with the fabric of your shirt, spinning quills in your fingers in anticipation as you wait. An oppressive thought begins to fester at the back of your mind: what if Lucifer won't come?

The thought frustrates you to no end, not because of any emotional attachment you hold to the man but for the simple reason that you were looking forward to this. You wanted to see the prideful demon bow his head and confess that you were right, you wanted to see him shed that arrogant disposition and apologize for his repeated insults to your identity.

If he doesn't come, though, that will all be for naught.

Your shoulders begin to droop, the radiant smile slowly slipping from your face. By the day's end, you're practically drooping your head, unwilling to move from your position on your desk because you feel so stupid but wanting to all the same.

You almost don't hear the gentle click of your front door as it opens.

Almost.

Your eyes snap open immediately.

Your front door has been old and creaky for millennia, now; it was once new and kept in use, back in a time when Lucifer would visit you weekly and would enter through your front door every time—but as his visits have grown infrequent, the door has grown rusty. It remains open, forever unlocked because only one person uses that door and you've never barred him entry from your home, but it's difficult to maneuver, almost impossible to operate silently without magic. But as you sit on your desk, eyes wide and listening cautiously, the long creak of the door as it presses open is unmistakable.

That's the sound of a door that hasn't been touched in a year opening.

That's the sound of Lucifer.

Your posture straightens immediately, eagerness bubbling in your stomach as you hear his footsteps approach.

When the demon finally enters your study, he sees you sitting on your desk, watching his every move like a gargoyle made just for him.

"You were waiting for me."

The words are said so plainly as if they mean nothing at all. But the hint of a smile on Lucifer's face betrays him.

"I was," You respond swiftly, not bothering to come up with a lie. "I've been waiting for a long time."

"It was barely thirteen months."

"It was long enough."

The conversation ends there, but Lucifer doesn't come closer. He lingers in the doorway, refusing to take his usual position in his armchair.

That's fine, you think, lips curling upward. If he won't take charge, then I will.

"Come closer."

There's no hint of a question in your statement; it's painfully obvious that those words were a command, an order, a demand.

You half-expect Lucifer to disobey just for the sake of his pride, but he surprises you by taking two steps forward.

"Closer." Another two steps. "Closer." Four steps. "Lucifer, come and stand right in front of my desk."

The demon finally does what you want him to, walking forward until he's right in front of you, just an arm's distance apart.

"Closer."

Lucifer's eyes flash with mirth, and he takes a step forward, his body no more than a foot away from you as you sit on your desk and he stands in front of you.

"Closer."

One more step. The last one, because Lucifer's shoes are practically pressed against the base of your desk now, and his chest is mere inches from your own. The two of you are the same height when you sit on your desk like this, and it's a new perspective.

One you very much enjoy.

"Kiss me."

You expect the demon to falter, to stutter, or to gawk. But he presses his lips against yours with a swiftness that makes you wonder if you're the predictable one, if he saw this coming.

The thought would disturb you more if you weren't so focused on the sensation of Lucifer, on the strength in his fingertips as his hand cups your jaw and the warmth of his arm as it snakes around your waist, sliding you closer to him on the desk.

At the back of your mind, you remember that you had a plan. That you were supposed to pull away. That you were supposed to give Lucifer a chance and prove him wrong, prove that this isn't love.

But in the present moment, all you can think about is the electric feeling of his tongue as it slides into your mouth and forces your heart to march to the beat of a new rhythm, one filled with passion and fire and desire.

"Lucifer—"

It takes all your strength to press a hand against the demon's chest and physically push him away from you.

When the two of you next look at each other, you're both out of breath, cheeks flushed and lips wet.

"This isn't love," you tell him, looking him straight in the eye. "This is lust."

Your fingers wrap around the thick material of his tie, grabbing the knot.

"So don't stop kissing me."

You don't bother waiting for him to make the move himself, yanking his tie forward and doing the job yourself so that when your lips next collide, you're the one taking charge, biting and sucking and leading.

You feel Lucifer's lips curve into a smile even as he kisses you, and the thought frustrates you.

I want to wreck him, something says in the back of your mind.

You wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.

"Bedroom," You mumble into Lucifer's lips, letting him pull you off the desk. You don't relinquish your grip on his tie, refusing to let his lips leave yours for even a second as you take him out of the study, out of the only room you've ever allowed him into and instead to your bed.

You can't tell where the demon's hands are—can barely tell where your own clothes are. All you know is that the more you kiss Lucifer, the more electric the intensity inside you feels, a burning fire that you know has to be lust.

You begin unbuttoning his shirt messily, practically throwing him onto your bed before climbing on top of the demon, allowing your lips to leave his only so that you can marvel at the sight of him underneath you.

Your grin is wolfish. Satanic. Demonic.

You lean forward to grip the demon by the shoulders, confidence soaring through your veins as you dig your nails into his skin and swear to not let him leave this bed until you've taught him the true meaning of lust. The plan you once had is pushed to the back of your mind, overshadowed by desire as you press your lips against Lucifer again in preparation for the long night ahead. Everything disappears but the man in your arms, your mind wholly empty save for thoughts of what you're going to do to Lucifer in the night ahead.

It doesn't surprise you when you wake up to a cold bed and an empty house.

Such is the demon way: to fuck in the night and disappear in the morning, to give in to a temptation once and to not bother seeking the same one again, to reach a high only to chase a new one the next night.

It's something you've taken part in countless times. After all, you're a demon. You're no stranger to lust, no stranger to sin.

For some reason, though, you can't help but sense that you still want more of Lucifer, even after you've had a taste.

You shake the thought before it can fester.

From there on out, everything goes back to your usual routine. You take a walk in the woods, glancing at the crows around you and gazing at the starry sky above, only to return to your study where you sit at your desk and stare out the window.

Some days you turn your attention to the papers on your desk, focusing on how you can better compare and contrast the various maps you're looking at, and other days it seems that you do nothing at all, merely sitting at your desk, staring at the paintings on the walls.

Things go back to normal—how they used to be before you met Lucifer.

Nothing really seems to change.

You'd be lying if you said you never thought about the demon you took into your bed. The man, annoying as he is, has been a constant in your life for millennia. It's impossible not to think about him, especially not with the daily newspaper featuring his triumphs on the front page every other day.

But now, there seems to be a strange sort of pain that accompanies every thought of the firstborn.

You were confused by it at first, unsure of where it was sourced from. But after months of investigating your own mind and trying to pick it apart, you've come to realize the cause.

It's so simple, really.

You're afraid that you'll never see Lucifer again.

A small part of you hates yourself for every sleeping with the man. He was doubtlessly the best fuck of your life, but you can't help but feel that it ruined the friendship you had. Tarnished whatever image he held of you. Maybe even hurt the demon's feelings, with the way you so boldly proclaimed that the night's endeavors were being fueled not by the love he clearly sought but lust instead.

The thought annoys you, honestly. It buzzes around in your mind like an irritating fly that won't go away, a frustrating notion that you can never seem to squash.

You shouldn't care about the fact that you might not see Lucifer again; you shouldn't care that the visits you once looked forward to will stop.

You shouldn't care, and yet you do.

You think that thought annoys you even more.

It's what propels you to try to forget about the Avatar of Pride completely, and you break from your self-induced isolation to venture out of the woods and head to a nightclub, one of the low-end ones where the implication is that everyone present is looking for a hookup.

Such a decision was a poor one, though. You only realize it in hindsight, but you were stupid for ever thinking that a random demon off the streets could compare to Lucifer the Morningstar, Avatar of Pride, Aide to the Prince, Lord of Hell, in bed.

You think the hookups just made you miss Lucifer even more.

A part of you takes it on as a challenge to figure out what it will take to finally get the prideful demon out of your mind. You've tried adding lovers, adding toys, adding aphrodisiacs to your nightly ventures—but nothing seems to work. At the end of every orgasm comes an involuntary flash of Lucifer's face, just like how at the end of every day, it's the Avatar of Pride who stars in all your dreams.

It wouldn't even be so bad if you weren't positively certain that Lucifer will never come to your home again.

You've always been able to predict his actions, always been able to read his mind. Figuring out his thoughts used to be so intuitive for you that you rarely had to even think about it: a gut feeling was always more than enough to steer you in the direction of the truth.

But your gut is now saying that the Avatar of Pride isn't coming back, isn't going to be venturing out into your woodland anymore.

The thought hurts you more than it should.

It's this mentality that eventually has you stumbling toward your alcohol cabinet, fingers reaching for something to help you forget those red eyes that make your heart ache curiously with every breath. Your hand instinctively reaches for the good stuff, for the expensive Celestial wine that you once saved for your visits with Lucifer.

But then you realize that the Celestial wine, delicious as it is, isn't what you need.

No, you want to forget.

And as a demon, only one drink in the world can do that for you.

Your fingers reach for the tall bottle of Demonus.

Swill, a quiet voice echoes through your mind, but you dismiss the thought instantly, pulling the bottle out. You don't bother grabbing a glass, knowing that there's no need to maintain appearances any longer. No one will be walking through your front door, no one will be coming to glare at you and make little quips as you offer advice.

No, that's all over.

You pull the bottle off the shelf entirely, your thumb already extending to rip out the corkscrew when you notice a paper in the wine cabinet, positioned elegantly next to a wine glass.

You know for a fact that you did not put it there.

Your eyes dart from the bottle in your hands to the paper that's facing away from you, internally trying to decide.

It's no surprise what your choice ends up being.

You place the bottle of Demonus on the floor with a thud as you pinch the paper between your nails, taking it into your hands. It's an off-white and its edges are uneven, the slip clearly torn off from something larger, but something is written on one side.

You squint at the paper, bringing it to your window so you can read the words under the moonlight. It takes a moment, but you finally find an angle that works, revealing the message to your wary eyes—

If it's lust, then anyone would be able to sate your needs. If it's love, then it will only ever be me.

And at the bottom, Lucifer's name is written, signed in looped cursive which takes up nearly have the paper.

You don't bother cleaning your house.

If anything, you readily accept that it will grow dirty, and in honor of the fact, you open up every window you have to welcome the wildlife in. Bugs begin to fly inside almost instantly, but you don't mind. You want your home to belong to these woods now, for the animals that have protected you to find security in what was once your abode.

You step outside through your back door. A part of you still feels that the front is meant for Lucifer, that you've always left it open for him and not yourself. In the end, it doesn't matter. You're leaving this place behind, and you won't be back for a long time.

If things go well, you won't be back at all.

You head outside as soon as animals begin to filter in, leaving the door open behind you as you pat your pockets one more time to make sure your wallet is with you before setting off in the direction of the nearest city.

You don't bother bringing any clothes, don't bother bringing any food. The money in your wallet is more than enough to support you on your journey to the heart of the Devildom, and you don't want to weigh yourself down with anything other than the clothes on your back.

That, and the note in your pocket.

You slip your fingers inside just to check that you have it one last time before you truly begin to follow the path you know will lead you out of the woods, breathing a sigh of relief when you find that the ripped parchment is right where it belongs.

You're honestly not sure what you'll say to Lucifer when you find him, but you imagine that the paper will do all the talking once you show it to him. And you're not particularly worried. The trip from your home to Lucifer's takes three days by flight, but on foot? By manually walking through the Devildom? It should take you a month at the very least. You'll have more than enough time to figure out what you're going to say to him.

A part of you does feel guilty for that.

You have a feeling—a gut feeling, so it could be as wrong even though you're certain it's right—that Lucifer is waiting for you. That he has been waiting for you. And by choosing to travel to him on foot, you know you're only extending your time apart.

Then again, the Avatar of Pride never had any qualms over making you wait, so you doubt that one month is going to make a difference.

The demon will likely make snippy comments about it no matter what you do.

For now, you can only continue to walk out of the forest, staring up at the crows which seem to be following you.

"Goodbye," You gently whisper to the birds. You know you'll miss the peace of your life here, of waking up and having nothing to do but smile at the animals around you and devote yourself to whatever mindless hobbies you've desired—but stagnation is the death of immortality.

And you've been stagnant for much too long.

Your expression begins to sour as soon as you draw close to the edge of the woods, a city only miles away. You can already hear how loud the district is, smell how polluted it must be. Still, you continue onward. You've isolated yourself for long enough, and the time has finally come for you to return yourself to the world.

Above you, the crows caw in alarm, almost as if pleading with you to stay.

One of them—the strange bird with markings on it—flits around you as if confused. It watches you step beyond the woods before darting forward in the direction of the city at a rapid speed, cawing at the top of its lungs.

You smile at it, perhaps for the last time.

You like the birds of these woods. But there will be birds in the new places you'll go, in the city district you're about to enter and doubtlessly on the RAD campus where you've learned Lucifer resides. Your journey does not end here; if anything, you are only beginning it.

As you walk, you can't help but let your thoughts wander to the man who brought you here, the person responsible for what you're doing.

The truth is that you don't know what your emotions for him are. You know it is not in a demon's nature to love, but you also know you were never born a demon. And yet you were cast out of heaven for that very reason—the lack of love in your heart. But of all the uncertainties, there is one thing you know: whatever you feel for Lucifer is more than lust. Just like he said in his note, it's something only he can sate, something only he can fix.

You're still not positive on what that means—whether Lucifer will indeed be able to do anything about the feelings in your heart, whether he'll be able to fix the odd ache you've been living with for over a year now.

But you're willing to try. In the grand scheme of things, that's all that matters.

The thought sets a strong tone for your journey, resonating with your heart as you step across the boundary that lines the woods. It means that you've formally reached the outermost boundary of the city, a district of bustling activity that might scare you if you hadn't already seen it before.

You stare at it, watching. Studying the demons that are walking around and about in the distance, the tall buildings which cast looming shadows through the land.

And when you finally step forward, leaving behind the place you've called home for millennia, there is not a single hesitation in any of your steps. For you know that at the end of it all, when you finally finish your journey through the Devildom and you end up in the infamous House of Lamentation, Lucifer's study will be unlocked, the demon's doors forever open to you the way yours once were to him.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 8.9k

Notes: i wrote this a LONG time ago and finally decided to post it publicly. i was hesitant because this fic kind of? wrote itself? like i had plans and as i wrote it they were swallowed up by everything else >.> anyway, think of this as compensation for the fact that i haven't been posting much recently! i hope you like it :)

Thank you for reading <3

#Word count: 8.9k #gender neutral reader #obey me!shall we date #lucifer x reader #om!lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #changing power dynamics #fallen angel!reader #referenced/implied sex #slight symbolism attempts #mammon has a familiar :3 #super duper cliche #kinda open ending #kissing awh #pining #mutual pining #take this offering and plzl forgive me for not making much content recently

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1kook · 4 years

Text

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jjk fic #mine

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inarizakibabe · 3 years

Text

Beginning

After weeks of testing and studying hard you finally made it into class four. Now time to make friends with your classmates and shoot up the ranks into popularity. Swallowing your nervousness you approached a group of people to introduce yourself.

"Good morning. I'm (l/n)(f/n) it's nice to meet you all." you gave them the biggest smile you could muster.

The group acknowledged your presence then continued their previous conversation ignoring you. After a few minutes you decided they'd be a lost cause and moved onto a different group. After successfully managing to make no friends you cut your losses and took a seat.

"Well that went well." a voice beside you said.

"Oh shut up. I don't see you trying to make friends." you replied irritated.

"Nah too much work. I have a team full of people to tolerate already."

"Wait why are you even here?" you asked the boy beside you.

"Rude. This is my class if you must know." he said annoyed.

"Hold on. You? Suna Rintaro? Class four? Is the world ending?" you asked apprehensively.

Suna grunted and ignored you. Slowly a smirk formed on your face, "Your mom threatened to come see you again didn't she?"

"You're in my business princess. Don't do that." Suna booped your nose.

You stuck your tongue out at him right as the teacher walked in to start homeroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Half the day and three periods later it was that weird period right before lunch and Suna's attention span couldn't keep up any longer. At this point you were taking notes for Suna to steal later when he could be bothered to write them down. The clock on the wall showed there were five minutes left until lunch so you decided to zone out.

Your thoughts ranged from getting homework on the first day of school to what you might be having for dinner tonight. Eventually they strayed to the boy napping beside you. You two had been friends for a long time. You met your second year of elementary school when Suna thought it would be funny to see how hard he could tug on your pigtail. After filling his shoes with sand you two became inseparable. Years later in your last year of junior high Suna was scouted by the coach of the Inarizaki High volleyball boys club in Hyogo. It was a great opportunity for him but it meant you guys would be separated. Unfortunately the club you joined didn't have a way for you to be recruited and even though your grades were good they weren't good enough for your parents to pack up and move all the way to Hyogo.

For your entire last year of junior high you mentally prepared to say goodbye to Suna until your mom's job decided to transfer her to Hyogo. Eventually your family moved to Hyogo, with a promise to the Sunas to take care of their eldest son, and thus your high school story began only it's not going the way you hoped. Suna was still your only friend and it seemed all your classmates knew each other since junior high leaving no room for you to shoot through the ranks. The bell rang interrupting your thoughts and your teacher dismissed your class to lunch.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After a boring lunch period your next class felt like it dragged on. So far your dream to take over high school seemed more and more impossible to achieve. Maybe if you joined the right club some magic might just happen. The big question now was which club would you join. You were a woman of many talents but none great enough to make you the star of a club. Cooking club would give you the chance to perfect your recipes but cooking wasn't something you enjoyed to do. Maybe one of the sports clubs? Definitely not. Was there anything else to do?

Before long the school day ended and it was time to either head to your club's first meeting or go home. You turned to ask Suna if he wanted to stop at the convenience store before going home until you saw him loosening his tie. Right the volleyball club had its first meeting today so you'd have to go home alone today.

"Don't look so disappointed. I'll save all my homework for you to do." Suna said looking at you.

"Whatever Rintaro! What do I have to be disappointed about?!" you huffed and picked up your bag to leave.

"Don't get lost on the way home." Suna chuckled and watched you leave before leaving for the gym.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Stupid Rin. I got lost one time. And what the hell would I be disappointed about? If anything he should be disappointed he won't have company to walk home with later today. I should go to bed before he gets home too." You grumbled while trying to find the school's gate. "Maybe it's in the other direction. Man this school is huge."

Up ahead you saw a guy with brown hair going in the opposite direction. Maybe he knows the way out of this school.

"Excuse me? Do you know which way the gate is?"

The boy stopped and at looked at you funny. "Keep going straight and you'll see it."

"Thank you." you bowed and continued going in the direction he told you. After taking ten steps you stopped and gaped at who was in front of you. The exact same guy was walking towards you again. You looked behind you quickly but the guy from before had disappeared already. Was it a daydream or did you finally lose it?

"Something wrong?" The guy stopped in front of you. "Are you lost or something?"

"I'm sorry but didn't you just tell me how to find the gate less than a minute ago?" you asked.

The guy in front of you looked confused until a look of understanding crossed his face. "I doubt it was me but keep going straight and you'll find the gate."

You thanked the guy once again at least you think it's the second time and finally made it to the gate to leave for the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* The next day in class you remembered the run in you had after school the previous day and turned to ask Suna about it.

"Hey Rin this may sound crazy but I got directions from the guy twice yesterday."

Suna pouted trying to figure out what you were talking about. "You asked the guy to repeat himself?"

"No he helped me then I walked away and all of a sudden he was in front of me again and gave me directions again." you explained.

"So he chased you? Wow the year just began and you already got a guy to fall for you. Nice work (y/n)-chan. What do you plan to do with this new found information?" Suna asked with amusement in his voice.

"You are the worst human to walk this planet I swear. I'm serious. Maybe I accidentally walked in on someone's prank or something. I hope it wasn't recorded." you huffed.

Suna shrugged and checked his phone for new notifications, "Who knows. Maybe that was your ticket to popularity you were looking for. Did you pick a club yet or are you gonna let our homeroom teacher do that?"

"I don't wanna think about clubs right now. I can't think of one I wanna join. Help me find one. Please?" you put on your best puppy eyes and begged. Maybe for once he'll take mercy on you.

"Why should I? Just join the music club. You did it in Jr. high. I'm sure you can survive three more years." Suna said not looking at you.

"I would prefer if I didn't have to go through all of that again. I expected music club to be about music not how much spit I could clean out of a tuba." you shuddered remembering the unspeakable things you went through in music club.

"Don't do this to me (n/n). The stories were the highlight of my day. You gotta do it again for the fate of mankind." Suna gave you the saddest look he could produce before he laughed at how ridiculous he thought he looked. "Anime joke. I don't know what to tell you princess. I haven't picked a club since we left elementary. Why don't you see if one of the sports clubs needs a manager."

"Rin you're a genius! Does the volleyball club need a manger? I promise I won't screw up."

Suna stared at you with a deadpan expression and sighed. "Remember when I went to visit family one summer break and asked you to watch Bubbles? I came back and we all attended a fishy funeral that same day. Or when I asked you to pick up Asami because I couldn't and I came home to my parents yelling at me because she called them crying cause nii-san forgot her? I could go on but I think you get the picture. I don't trust your promises anymore."

"Yeah but Bubbles was a special case. Who knew he'd eat until he burst if I put all the food in the tank? He was suppose to eat it little by little. And I apologized to you and your that entire year and you guys forgave me. Bottom line is I was young and dumb, now I'm a high school student and I've learned a lot in my fifteen years of life. Just talk to the coach and see what he says. I could probably really help you guys."

Suna sighed for the umpteenth time and ran a hand through his bangs. "It's not really the coaches I'm worried about. I met some of our upperclassmen and some of the third years are kinda intense."

You frowned at his tone and tried to think of what they could've done to him. "i'm sure they're not as bad as you're making them sound. Maybe you need to look at them from a different angle."

"I doubt it. There were two first years that made me question my sanity. If they weren't fighting they played really well together. There was one other first year that could already do jump serves. The entire team is pretty good. Looks like it's gonna be an interesting year for volleyball. I hope I get to play in some official matches." As the last sentence left his lips Suna's eyes widened and he turned to look at you so quickly you almost thought he'd get whiplash. "You didn't hear that."

"Oh that's what the problem is. I'm sure you'll get to play in some matches and if you don't then there's no way the team is going to nationals." you smiled at him.

Before Suna could respond the bell rang signaling lunch was finished.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*

At the end of the day you followed Suna to the gym.

"Remember it's not a guarantee. We don't have a manager and Coach Oomi does what you would do." Suna reminded you when you were almost at the gym. "Talk to coach Kurosu he's the head coach and old enough to be our father so if you ware him down enough you might just get the position."

"Alright. I can definitely do this." You sounded more confident than you felt but there was no turning back now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hello sorry it took so long for this part to be uploaded but it's here now. Hopefully you enjoyed this and the next chapter comes out sooner than this one did. Until then don't hesitate to let me know what you think or if you just wanna say hi I don't bite I promise.

#inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #suna rintaro #inarizaki manager #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader

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alldayangst · 3 years

Text

a free world? (Harry Styles)

All my fics are PoC/LGBTQ+ friendly. Trigger warning/warnings for divorce, kids witnessing unhealthy marriages/divorce. Inspired by Godspeed by Frank Ocean.

“This court thereby grants the plaintiff a divorce. Please wait ninety days for the divorce to be finalised.” The judge bangs their gavel. “This court is adjourned.”

Harry remembers these words like it was yesterday. They sounded nothing like the ‘with the power vested in me’ speech the minister gave five years ago, so he wondered why you were smiling. The whispers you exchange with your attorney were nowhere near as heartfelt as yours and his ‘I love you’s’ and ‘I do’s’ . He looked at you while you look at your lawyer like he just saved your life. Harry wonders if that was the way you truly felt all along.

One thing that never failed to complicate things was the fact that you and Harry had children; children you adored unconditionally. You adopted Heidi and Eden when the love between you and Harry was just too strong not to share, and you remember the ear splitting sobs Harry screeched out for their sake when you decided separating was the best option for you both.

“This is all my fucking fault.” Harry sat on the steps like a child on punishment. You towered over him like a parent in despair. Where did it all go wrong? Snot, sweat and tears. The human body had a funny way of showing pain. “No, nothing’s your fault.” You remembered these words like it was yesterday. They sounded everything like the ‘I think we should end this’ speech you have him three days prior, so you knew exactly why he was crying. His red, runny nose and frantic head shaking was as close as you could get to reliving the undying heartache of yours and Harry’s ‘I fucking hate myself’s’ after arguments and ‘I’m not happy anymore’s’. He looked at you like you could save his life. You wondered if that was truly the way he felt all along. “Why bring a child into our home if I can’t provide the life I promised them?” Harry continued to weep, defeated, as you cradled his head in your arms, resting yours against his.

No love lost.

“The kids know you love them, even if you don’t love me. Being happy and divorced aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Harry snorted and shook his head in your hands when you mentioned the word ‘divorce’, and by that, you could tell that he wasn’t ready to finish something that he started. But you were. “There will be mountains you won’t move, Harry.”

Fast forward to after you were granted the divorce, you’d been slow to move on; choosing to stay ‘two hearts, one home’ with Harry for the sake of your children.

You didn't want to leave, you’d rather slow down. You wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of your children’s last idea of their parents together being animosity in bedroom corridors.

“The table is prepared for you.” Harry noticed you all fidgety, finicky with your ring, pulling it off to the fingertip and rubbing it over your knuckle like this was all some sort of game.

You ate your food over a quiet table. You liked a quiet table now. It was better than the subtle shots and low blows you and Harry threw at each other seven months ago. Perhaps you didn’t know then what was to come.

“Y/N said they found a home not too far out of London.” Heidi dropped this bomb out of nowhere, then proceeded to eat her food, neglecting the fallout. Your children had taken to calling you by your first name because that’s what Harry had reduced you to, you were no longer ‘baby’, ‘honey’ or ‘lovie.’

You hear the clank of cutlery as Harry dropped his knife and fork and abandons his meal.

“Is this true?” he questions, eyes gawking in a line of sight straight at you. Once upon a time, you’d claim Harry could see right through you, into you - but after a few mean words and closed door rows, his vision doesn’t work as well.

“It’s true.” You breathe in uneasily.

“Can we talk in the bedroom?” Harry wiped his face on the cloth and you followed his lead on what you’re sure is to be an adventure upstairs.

“You’re moving? You’re moving without me?”

“Harry, I think you’re confused. You signed up for a life without me once you chose not to contest the divorce.”

“So, what, you wanted me to contest the divorce?” Now Harry is confused. His eyebrows are scrunched up together, and his face is in a kind of puzzle where if you didn’t know him, you’d probably think he was angry. And maybe you were onto something when you called yourselves ‘soulmates’, because Harry knew you know him better than anyone else - you’d had a power where you could see right through him, into him - and your 20/20 vision never failed you.

You’d hate to admit your ego was bruised when Harry didn’t contest the divorce. In a way, it made things peaceful - your house, your alimony and your kids didn't have to be split right in the middle, but nothing would compensate for yours and Harry’s broken bond. That little part of your heart that wanted Harry to contest the divorce didn’t do it out of a love for conflict, but to know you were something to fight for. Why didn’t Harry fight for you? You’d fought for much lesser things. You looked down at the rug beneath you, unable to come to terms with the shame and hurt that you felt you could spontaneously combust under. “I guess some strange part of my mind wanted you to fight for me, thought it would make me feel worthy, like you still loved me.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Harry lifts up your head and kisses the tears beginning to for under your eyes. “Because I do love you.”

You hum in satisfaction because you think this moment is over. Harry has other plans.

He kisses all over your face. Your nose. “I love you.” Your eyelids. “I love you.” You feel your cheeks begin to get wetter, Harry is crying too. Your chin. “I love you.” Your neck. He’s muffled as he smooches and speaks in intervals. “I didn’t contest because I thought this would make you happy. I just want you to be happy.” Maybe this is how Harry felt all along. Harry grabs a handful of your backside. “And one day this is going to be over. And I’m gonna wake up and we’ll laugh because it’s a bad dream.” Harry goes to pick you up, and that’s when you decide you’ve both gone far enough. Love isn’t about pushing hate in the other direction. “Harry, we have children downstairs, we have children downstairs, we have children downstairs.”

Two days later, you were sat next to Eden in the living room, unaware that Harry had chosen to dwell on your encounter the other night. It’d been a habit of his, he’d refused to relent on sweet, simple words, subtle signs, he’d never let things go. Harry and Heidi were washing dishes in the open kitchen adjacent to you with Harry sneakily stealing a glance from you every other second, resulting in some haphazardly washed pots and one broken plate.

The china dispersed itself across the ground. You and Eden looked up from your laptop while Harry and Heidi stared at the broken plate on the floor like it would mend itself that way. “Fuck, Daddy!” Heidi blurted out. Harry looked at her and then looked at you guiltily, hoping you didn’t think it was him that had taught your daughter that language. “Don’t say ‘fuck’, sweetheart.” It obviously was. “Can you help Daddy get the broom?” Heidi zoomed off in search for the broom while Harry thoughtlessly kicked shards of broken china around in attempt to pack the mess together. He wanted you to think he was a good Dad. You knew he was a good dad. But Harry was jonesing for your approval as if it would reverse the divorce papers in the mailman’s hands or stop you from separating your heart and your home.

“Y/N, where is Essex?” Eden looked at you curiously while Harry listened tentatively at the message of your hometown. “It’s where I come from and it’s where you and me are gonna live.” You tap Eden on the knee.

“I can’t find the broom.”

“Harry, you better go help her.” You said.

“Eden, go help your sister.” He tells your son.

Heidi said that you’d be living not too far from London but Harry never thought you’d end up back in Essex. You rarely mentioned your birthplace, and your distinct Essex accent got drowned in loud, screaming concert crowds and lost in London after years of residing with Harry. You’d worn your hometown on your sleeve only a handful of times. Harry vividly remembers Niall expressing doubt with you during drinking games to which you’d responded: “Please, I’m from Essex!”, and it made Harry ponder on whether you were going back there to drink the memory of him away or out of genuine fondness for the place. So Harry doesn’t think and walks over to you, faces inches apart and says, “You look down on where you came from, sometimes. But you have this place to call home. Always.” And you look into his green eyes that remind you so much of emeralds and pretty forests and remember that they are the only place that you’ll truly call home. You feel your heart racing and the clock ticking and his eyes boring into yours in search for an answer, and unsure what to say, you’re relieved for the first time in your life that your children are not around. “I need to go help them find the broom.”

Three months later, a paper comes through right on time. For you, not for Harry. But for Eden and for Heidi who sat in the back of your car ready to live in a town they’ve never been to and their parents never mentioned.

Harry knew this day was about to come, because the letter that came for you a few days prior features your birth name, your full birth name. No Styles, no marriage title, no hint to the fact that you even knew Harry at all apart from the address. The address that was now his, and solely his. Harry starts to feel like a little kid again, and wants to cry on the steps and have you cradle him again even if it’s the last time you touch him. “I will always love you how I do, Harry. I vowed that. This love will keep us through the blinding of the eyes. I’ll love you to the day that I die.” And with that, Harry engulfs you. Because that paper that came right on time meant that your divorce was final and this wasn’t a sick dream he could shake himself from. “I’m wishing you godspeed, glory.” And that’s how you really felt all along. Harry holds your hand with his free one and you let him remove your ring from your finger. He’s crying now. It’s too late. You rub along his back and pat it, and maybe that’s his signal to let go, but he doesn’t.

He can’t believe you’re going back. He can’t believe the town you disowned is your better option over him. You look back at it like it saved your life. “I’ll let go of my claim on you, it’s a free world.” But he hugs tighter.

Taglist: @swiftingday

Credit for the gif goes to: /hampsteadharry

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

lame

05.

there’s a scar you’re not telling

You almost thought you were running late. Well, you weren’t.

But you were late to miss the early train.

Fuck.

And the train was packed. Just fucking great.

With your backpack hung in front of you, you tried to balance within your personal space whilst avoiding bumping into others. Thing was, it was getting more and more cramped as it was rush hour.

Why the fuck did school have to be so damn far!?

Businessmen, students, workers slowly filled in and out the train, it was wall-to-wall of people, barely allowing you a breather. Still, it was fucking cramped.

Absentmindedly, you bunched your hair together, letting it drape over your left shoulder, fingers nimbly working on a braid through your (h/c) locks.

Just as you secured it with a tie, the train cart screeched, the sudden movement throwing you off balance, falling back. Thankfully, warm hands grabbed hold of your shoulders, steadying you.

Your eyes turned to the windows, wondering if there was an attack from villains, some people were muttering behind you, thinking the same thing. Overhead, the PA went off, apologizing for the turbulence then announcing the next stop coming up.

Everyone sighed in relief, realizing it was just a train momentum, people were now shuffling around at the announcement, some preparing to leave while many others struggled to remain in their current spots.

Looking over your shoulder, towards your captor, with a smile you offer your gratitude. “Whew, thanks- “then you met ash blond and carmine, smile faltering, lower eye twitching, but a gratitude was still in order. “Yeah, thanks.”

Bakugou Katsuki's response was a noncommittal hum, roughened hands slowly slipping off your shoulders. As the train came to a stop, there was a shuffling of people, you were just about to take a step back, allowing people to move, but remembered that he was behind you. Though you were steady on your feet, it was still rush hour and people tend to really rush into the train - not wanting to miss the train. One false move and you could find yourself squished against someone, or against the window, or be cornered by some pervert – all options made you shudder.

Damn it. This is why you take the early train!

“Here,” without waiting for you to argue, roughened hands gently brought you aside, your back against the wall, shoulder touching the railing, with him in front of you. Protectively.

The feel of his hands on you made you remember just how warm they were, how big they’ve become compared to before.

“Um,” you didn’t like the way his eyes bore into yours, especially when it felt like he was seeing through you. “thanks. Again.”

Okay, not counting the time you had to confirm it earlier, that was two times already. Two words of gratitude in one morning.

He just blinked, towering over you whilst the train filled. Just the mere fact that he was in front of you made you consider a lot of things. Now that you had a good look at him, you could see that in his UA uniform, he was dressed rather ruggedly with the top buttons undone, even his blazer’s not completely buttoned, and his pants were loose – Auntie Mitsuki must’ve given him hell for his appearance. It was a total contrast to Izuku, who dressed like a good schoolboy – granted, he’s always been one. He just didn't know how to work a tie.

Regardless, he looked every bit of a high schooler now. Physically speaking, he’s always been muscular in build and tall – because of his good genes. But in a matter of time, because of his UA education, he’ll probably build up more.

But wow, it’s only been a few months since high school started, he’s definitely gotten bigger. Izuku, as well, but Bakugou’s muscles were more prominent-

Shit, were you ogling him?

Geez, it’s too early for these thoughts. Leaning against the railing, eyes squeezing shut, tucking your chin in, you groaned angrily to yourself.

Thankfully, you had your bag in front of you, creating a respectable space between you both.

Also, you could just end up not talking right? That was a thing.

You barely know the guy anymore, after years of bullying under his command, years of distance – he was nothing but a stranger to you now.

It hurt, actually.

There was a time when you were so close, never apart.

Everything just had to change because he had a quirk, birthing this damn ego that propelled him further and further away from you. Izuku, too.

And though you had your own (longer than Izuku), you felt so behind.

Him and Izuku in their UA uniforms, you in your generic public-school uniform.

The two of them were going places you could never see yourself following.

“Hey,” he called, voice surprisingly soft, cutting you off your thoughts. “that mark on your neck,” due to the environment noises surrounding, he had to lean in so you could hear him properly. “how did that happen?”

Fuck. He was too damn close!

But at the mention of the mark, hands instinctively reached for it, just by the junction of your neck and shoulder, abnormally shaped like a heart. A tiny splotch, that was over years old.

“You wouldn’t remember.” It was barely a whisper, but it reached his ears, carmine eyes faltering.

“Try me.”

Lifting your head, (e/c) eyes meeting carmine, fixing him an almost pained look. He balled his hand into fists at that, gazes holding, unwavering - a thousand words could be spoken.

The train came to a steady halt, finally reaching your stop.

Not breaking eye contact, you told him, in one breath. “It was when you discovered your quirk in kindergarten.” Then the doors opened beside you.

Hurriedly, you exited, never looking back.

Absentmindedly, your hand reached for the mark. To others, it might look cute due to its shape, but to you, it was a reminder. One of the many, anyway.

(It burned when you touched it.)

Middle school was a rough time, especially when you were the quirkless girl, an easy target, or a punching bag. Little did they know of your martial arts prowess and of your quirk, that even though you were restless in the morning, you learned to conserve just enough energy to fight, it just made you extra tired the next day though.

One day, you were cornered by a bunch of girls, all of which were fangirls of Bakugou, they saw you as a threat because of your relationship as childhood friends, forgetting that it was rather strained.

It was a four against one, which you easily won - because they chose to approach you near dusk, that was when your quirk picked up, but not without casualties.

“E-Eh, (Nickname)!? What happened to you?” Izuku frantically hovered over you when you met on the way to school.

Chuckling easily, you scratched at your bandaged cheek. “Ah, you know…assholes with quirks.”

His expression only worsened; eyes filling with tears. “(N-Nickname)…”

“IZUKU, PLEASE DON’T CRY!” you cried out, tossing your shoes into your shoe locker, lazily slipping on your indoor shoes. “Don’t worry, Izuku, I got them all.” You assure, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. “Besides, you’re forgetting that I’m a badass who knows martial arts!”

That quells him a little, worry still in his eyes. “T-That’s true. I’m just not sure how to feel that you have to resort to actually using them to defend yourself. I mean, I know you’re good at martial arts, because it’s in the family, and you’ve always been kind of strong and quick on your feet-“

“Izuku,” cutting him off, you worked on a cheeky grin. “I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, he fixes you a look, brows knitting together. “Just promise me you won’t get into fights again,”

Ah, he’s so cute when he’s being serious.

Scoffing, you swiped at your nose with your thumb. “No promises, so long as loose assholes with quirks continue to run amok and mess with me, I’ll show them exactly how I’ll mess them back and worse!”

That only made him uneasy, somehow a bit assured. “(N-Nickame)…”

When you both entered the room, your eyes easily caught on the girls from yesterday, each sporting some cuts and bruises from yesterday. The corner of your mouth lifted into a smirk, whistling breezily towards your seat.

“F-For now, (Nickname), are you feeling better? Do you want some aspirin? Do you need to head to the clinic?”

You shook your head, smiling at Izuku’s concern, he can really mother too much. “Like I said,” you said in a sing-song “I’ll be fine~ This’ll all heal soon enough, you’ll see.”

As soon as you said that, a pair of carmine eyes looked your way, focusing on each and every bandage and bruise on your skin.

Feeling someone looking your way, you turned your head. “Can I help you, Bakugou?” you drone lazily, leaning back against your seat to give him a bored look.

“A-Ah, K-Kacchan! G-Good morning- “

“Should’ve stayed at home to rest, idiot.” He tells you, eyes never leaving the bruises and bandages.

“Fuck off.” You replied, knowing the girls from yesterday were watching. Hopefully, that assured them that your relationship was pretty non-existent. Dead.

For the rest of the day, you were teetering on sleep and academic dedication with the former winning at each turn – a drawback of your quirk. Thankfully, you managed to snag some sleep during Japanese Literature and Science.

“Ah, (Nickname), you look like you’re getting better. But it would be wise not to sleep in class next time…” Izuku tells you, beratingly.

Yawning, arms stretched upwards, you fixed your best friend a dopey grin. “That’s alright, I can always depend on you for notes!”

“Really,” he sighs, announcing that you two should probably head off to lunch.

Yawning, you made your way to the meat section, mumbling over and over the things you need to buy for dinner. Lately, because your grandfather’s been working with Eraser Head, he’s been quite antsy when it comes to food, and a bit demanding, too!

Tonight, he wanted steak. FUCKING. STEAK. IT WAS EXPENSIVE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! AND HE DIDN’T EVEN SPECIFY WHICH STEAK HE WANTED!

Grumbling under your breath, you were just about to reach for the Wagyu steak (on sale, lucky you) when another hand appeared, reaching for the same thing, making you halt.

“Ah-" looking up, you were met with familiar warm brown eyes. "Uncle Masaru!”

“Oh, (Name)-chan, it’s you!” Came his soothing calm voice, eyes brightening at the sight of you. “It’s been a while.”

“It has been, Uncle.” Your smile grew, turning to him fully before the cold wind gently whispered to your skin as if to remind you. “Ah, you can have it, by the way.”

“No, no, you were reaching for it first.”

“No, I insist!”

“Please, (Name)-chan, it’s the least I can do. Also, this at least gives me an excuse to make something else,” he replies sheepishly with a light chuckle.

You paused at that, processing the information shared. Bakugou must’ve wanted steak for dinner, but since Uncle Masaru gave up the meat, it was yours now. It was your win.

Pettily taking the win as yours, you happily took the steak and dumped it into your basket. “Thanks, Uncle Masaru!”

If he noticed the mischievous – almost devil-like expression on your face, he didn’t mention it. He just smiled, kindly, warmly, like how you remembered.

“How have you been?” he asks you.

Normally, the question would annoy you, because it was rather basic. But it’s not every day you run into sweet, mild, and good-natured Uncle Masaru.

“Eh, I’m doing very well, as you can see.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. You used to be the smallest thing, with scrapes and bruises on your pretty dresses. Whenever you and Izuku were over, it was either a riot or a party.” Okay, you had to laugh at that, but it was true. Uncle Masaru laughs with you. Having him remember those things were endearing, made you feel warm. And guilty.

“I know it might seem awkward, but Mitsuki and I would love to have you over for dinner sometime. If that’s okay with you? Of course, you can bring Izuku-kun.”

Glancing up, you met the man’s kind gaze, the one thing Bakugou never got from him – everything was from his mom, he only ever got Uncle Masaru’s spiky hair and height.

You didn’t want to say no, neither can you say yes, but you sure as heck didn’t want to disappoint Uncle Masaru.

“No promise, Uncle Masaru,” his expression fell, shoulders dropping. “but, I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled weakly. “Then that’s more than enough for me. Just don’t be a stranger, (Name)-chan, okay?”

Smiling softly, you bowed at the older man and turned on your heel.

Cutting your losses with someone really hurts, especially when it involves certain people.

Cutting off from Bakugou meant you had cut off all contact with his parents, whom you loved so much since they took care of you for a time when your parents had passed – both taking turns to visit you when you were deep in depression. It hurt, but it was expected when you decide to cut someone from your life. Nobody is spared.

This time it was seven-against-one.

After having their asses served to them, those bitches managed to talk some filthy high schoolers into beating a middle schooler. A quirkless middle schooler.

Rolling your shoulders, you enjoyed the burn of your wakened muscles. “Wow, you bitches really want to make yourselves look bad in front of an audience, huh?”

So far, they’ve all showed to have power quirks that could be readily usable for the future, should they decide to make use of it. Sadly, their prized quirks turned out to be nothing but a waste for these fuckers.

You easily toyed with them for the first few minutes, allowing a few hits in before retaliating with a force and speed that was twice theirs. You made sure that the punches and kicks, especially to those bitches, stung and hurt, they were your own brute strength honed from training and your quirk.

A sickening crunch rang in your ear after some high school student punched you in the cheek, you made sure to return the favor by capturing his next punch, taking your legs up to strangle him by the neck, catching him completely by surprise, using your weight to swing your body towards an approaching somebody before jumping off.

Watching the two high schoolers stumble to the ground, you lazily walked up to the rest, fingers caked with dirt, grime, and blood, knuckles aching, a dark bruise forming on your arm, (h/c) hair was a mess.

Spitting blood on the ground, you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning at your next opponent, eyes glinting dangerously, menacingly, excitedly.

The rest of them faltered at your expression but didn’t back down.

That was alright, that meant they weren’t complete pussies after all.

Also, you liked fighting.

You came from a family of fighters, the thrill of it made your blood sing, made your instincts come alive – it made you feel alive.

“Hey, I’m a little disappointed,” you call out, watching the group – beaten and bruised. “you lot say you’re strong, an added bonus is your oh-so-cool quirks, so beating a measly, quirkless middle schooler like me should be no problem,” working on your most sickening grin, you tilted your head. “right?”

“Fucking bitch!”

“Now you’re really asking for it!”

“We’ll beat you black and blue!”

Falling into a stance, adrenaline rushed through your veins (and mentally preparing for a tongue lashing from your grandfather), when an explosion went off.

Clouds of smoke and sand filling the air, gushing furiously against the wind, making you squint.

“OI! IS THIS SOME DIRTY TRICK!?” you yelled, voice fading into noise of wind, sand, and explosions.

More explosions went off, going out at random – big, small, small then big. There was screaming and panicking on their end. Maybe they’ve probably found themselves in some yakuza turf and are being under attack? Shit, you had to make a run for it while you had the chance!

The sudden change of scene wasn’t good for your senses, everything was completely mushy and too much to comprehend. You at least remember where you put your bag, running towards a certain direction, you stopped at the sight of one of the fuckers. Their eyes widened at the sight of you, you readied a fist, but the gust was making your eyes water.

Falling to your knees, you covered your mouth as you coughed – having inhaled too much smoke and dust in your lungs, he saw this as an opportunity to attack you. But something grabbed him by the shoulders, some punches and groans followed, then an explosion could be heard before footsteps approached you.

Too busy coughing your lungs out, you were ready for any pain thrown at you, especially when you were at your most vulnerable.

Instead, a garb lands on your head, shielding you, arms easily scooping you off the ground, something lands on your belly, then loud hurried footfalls were taking you away from the scene.

The more you coughed, the more it felt like your lungs were going to give out, too strained to heighten your senses.

Eventually, your cough died down, your hands rubbing at your chest from coughing too much, throat dried out.

Ah, I probably will run into those assholes again, since we weren’t able to finish the fight.

You must’ve passed out – or dozed off, you weren’t sure – because the next thing you knew, you were being lowered down gently on a soft and cool sofa.

“W-Where…?”

Tugging the garb off your head, (e/c) eyes flinched at the light, strained to make out the furniture around you, the familiar TV set, the fancy-looking wall panel, the familiar staircase, that unmistakable family portrait – one brunette, two explosive blondes-

Wait, you were at Bakugou’s place?

What the heck, you haven’t set foot here in forever! Why’d he bring you here?

Fully coming to, you turned to the blond “Why’d you bring me here!?” you had to ask, demanding.

The sudden movement stung at your fresh injuries, making you coil in your seat.

“Where else was I going to take you?” he replied immediately, coolly, loud enough for you to hear as he was taking two bottles of water from the refrigerator. “My place was closest, yours takes a while to get there, plus, you wouldn’t want to worry your family, right?”

You stared at him, distrustfully, then at the water offered to you, shocked to find that he remembered how much your family would worry over your injuries – big or small. He was always the one carrying you home, almost witnessing first-hand how much your mother would be near tears, your grandfather giving you a murderous-worried look, and your father just ash-faced and pale.

Taking the water from his hand, you nodded your thanks, pressing the cool item against your jaw, hissing in pain from the punch thrown earlier.

Carmine eyes narrowed at that, an emotion crossing over them.

“Don’t move,” he orders, walking off somewhere, you don’t care, eyes wandering around the area. It’s been a while since you were here, the last time was when it was his 10th birthday. After that, though, you and Izuku stopped receiving invitations.

Twisting the cap open, you took gentle sips, relishing in the cool water running down your throat.

The Bakugous were loaded – because Uncle Masaru worked in the fashion industry and Auntie Mitsuki worked in a cosmetics company. The two adored you, treating you like a daughter they never had – Uncle Masaru would gift you cute dresses (which Bakugou would make fun of you whenever you wore them) whenever he can, and Auntie Mitsuki was a hard-ass woman you looked up to.

But since discovering his quirk, Bakugou had become unbearable to be with, a shitty friend to both you and Izuku, ties had to be severed. However, that also meant not being able to see Uncle Masaru and Auntie Mitsuki, who were surely saddened by you and Izuku’s absence.

Suddenly, Bakugou was in front of you, his gakuran unbuttoned, exposing his shirt underneath, a first aid kit in hand. Eyes meeting, a silent conversation was being held, carmine clashing against (e/c). Fixing him a dull stare, he clicked the first aid kid open. With a roll of your eyes, you allowed him to clean your wounds.

Silence filled in, nothing you both seemed to mind. Surprisingly, for a guy with an explosive, volatile quirk and a shitty attitude, he was rather gentle. Not like you’ll ever tell him that, eyes looking around the house, remembering the times you were over with Izuku, anything to avoid staring at him in awe.

“Do they always come for you…” having finished cleaning most of your wounds, his voice came out quiet, but you heard it, a statement rather than a question.

Blinking, you were unsure if he deserved an answer. He thought that was the case and asked again, dipping iodine into the cotton, “Do they always-“

“I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”

Noticeably, his fingers stilled. Then, something smoked, it was the cotton ball, now reduced to ashes. A beat passed before he found himself working again, getting another cotton, now applying ointment to your bruises.

“Do you always need to fight them back?” There was a slight edge to his voice, controlled yet on the verge of breaking.

(E/c) hardened down on him, a seesaw of options playing in your head.

“Have to.” You reply breezily, watching him snap his head up to meet your gaze, unfazed by the anger in his carmine eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No shit.” He growled, hands beginning to shake. “What I do understand is the disciplinary action you’re gonna get once people find out you’ve been fighting fellow students, even if it were an act of self-defense! Y-You,” he slammed his fist into the glass table beside him, cracking it a little, his head hanging. “you could’ve just called the teachers, told them, too. About those bitches…”

“Again, I don’t see how this is- “

“YOU’LL BE FUCKING EXPELLED, (NAME)!” head still hung low, you could feel his hot breath and tufts of his hair against your skin, making you tingle a bit. It scared you to be this close to him, after all this time. Scared of how he was still protective of you.

Hating how you could hear the guilt in his voice because, in a way, he caused this, he allowed this, he was the reason. He was scared for you.

And he called you by your name.

The seesaw in your head continued, teetering, options weighing one after another.

“…why do you care?” One option up, the other falls. In the end, you just destroyed the seesaw. “Why waste your breath and time on an extra like me, quirkless too, if I might add, why waste your time?”

His head snapped up to yours, his expression was a shock to you. Why…why did he look so devastated, so crushed, so- “(Name)…”

Unable to stay any longer, never mind your still healing body, you stood. “I’m going now. Thanks for treating my injuries. I’ll..." you gulp, hard. "I'll try to avoid getting into fights.” Without waiting for a reply, you grabbed your bag, heading towards the door. “Bye.”

The next day, extremely exhausted from the fighting, Izuku once again panicked at the sight of your bruised and beaten face. When you reached the classroom, you were more than ready to meet the gazes of those bitches – only to find out they had been suspended, as they were given serious warnings should they cause another fight with you.

Apparently, someone had reported their involvement in ganging up on a quirkless student. Plus, there was a video of them taunting you since first year.

Bakugou was in his seat, looking anywhere but your way. Returning the gesture, you quietly sat in your seat, listening to whatever Izuku had to say.

Since then, you swore never to get into fights anymore for the sake of Izuku, and because Bakugou practically begged you.

“How’s school?” your grandfather asked, helping himself to some bok choy.

Shrugging easily, you cut a piece of steak, gesturing for his bowl to serve it to him. “Could be worse, but I’m doing fine.”

“Clarify, silly girl.”

“Mathematics continues to chew me in the ass,” you tell him, avoiding the hit thrown your way.

(Name) – 1, Shihan – 0.

“You’re failing already!?”

“Translation: it’s difficult, not I’m failing. Geez, old man, context!”

You barely dodged the chop aimed for your head, making you wince from the pressure.

(Name) – 1, Shihan – 1.

“That’s no way to talk to your elders, silly girl!” handing you an empty bowl, you nearly pawed it off his hands.

Angrily, you scooped him his heaping, a mound of hot rice returned to him. “Where do you think I take it from!?”

(Name) – 2, Shihan – 1.

“Enough arguing, more eating, foolish girl! We have training to do!”

(Name) – 2, Shihan – 2.

Narrowing your eyes at your grandfather, you wished lasers would come out just to fry off the last of his remaining hair out of petty spite.

Regardless, you loved your grandfather and appreciated these banters. He was rough on you, only because he wanted to teach you to be strong and to be able to hold off whatever was thrown your way so you can repay them back twice, thrice, or ten times more.

You were his pride and joy the moment you were born and swore to your parents that he’d guide and protect you so long as he was still kicking.

“I ran into Uncle Masaru today.”

“Oh! How is the man?”

“Same as always. Not a single grey hair in sight, despite living in a household full of rabid Pomeranians and hitting his forties.”

The Yoruichi patriarch stared down at you, unamused. “Please don’t tell me you told him that.”

Snickering, you deftly avoided his chops.

(Name) – 3, Shihan – 2.

“Gramps, please, like I’d be so willing to break Uncle Masaru’s heart.”

“You don’t have a problem doing that to me.”

“Simple: you’re literally and figuratively old,” you pointed with your chopsticks, waving them in the air as you enumerated more. “you’re Shihan of our dojo, and you have to raise me!”

(Name) – 4, Shihan – 3.

You failed to block the flick on your forehead after finishing your piece.

“Don’t wave your chopsticks in the air, fool, it’s rude.” Snickering at your whining, knowing it’ll leave a mark, he ate more steak. “And easy there with your words, silly girl, otherwise, I’ll repay your kindness in training!”

Recovering, you smirk, helping yourself to some steak. “Bring it! You know I love a good challenge!”

“Oho? My, someone’s cocky.”

“I wouldn’t be your granddaughter, either way.”

You two laughed at that, dinner coming to a finish as your grandfather happily ate the last of the steak. Eyeing the leftovers, you delighted at the thought of tomorrow’s lunch.

Just as you were to clean up, your grandfather asked a question: “By the way, how is the young Bakugou boy?”

(Name) – 4, Shihan – 4.

You stopped at that, hands freezing in the air, feeling your grandfather’s stare on you.

“Dunno.” Came your reply, hands found themselves resuming their work. “Don’t care.”

He watched in silence as you arranged the empty plates, bowls, and chopsticks. “Still not in speaking terms, eh?”

“Yep.”

Your grandfather didn’t have to ask to know that something changed between the three of you, especially with you and Bakugou. What you two had was not something so easy to forget, especially when both of you had been so close. Since then, his name had been taboo in the house.

“He goes to UA with Izuku, right?”

At the mention, you feel the tension seeping away slightly, mouth fixed in a straight line. “Yeah…”

“Are they in speaking terms?”

That made you scoff, fixing your grandfather a dubious look. “Civil, to say the least. Izuku’s not a brute, not like that other one.”

The animosity was clear in your tone as you talked about the other boy, like a bitter pill. Strong arms, decorated in scars and tattoos, crossed against his chest, displeased yellow eyes fixed on you.

“Has he tried talking to you?”

Shrugging with one shoulder, you turned to a lone rice on the table, flicking it without care. “He has, but they’re pretty half-assed.”

“What makes you say that?” to which, he received another shrug from you, mouth twisted into a twisted pout.

Consciously, you reached for your mark, rubbing at it with your fingers. “Some things are better left unsaid, the same way that some things buried should never be unearthed. It’s better off that way.”

His eyes never left your form, taking in your slouch, the look on your face, the sadness in your eyes. “Are you talking about yourself? Because that’s a rather selfish line of thinking, don’t you think?” Shifting, he slowly stood from the table, you watched him stand and met his gaze, offering you a sad look. “In a way, aren’t you being half-assed, yourself?”

Winner: Shihan, Loser: (Name).

masterlist • six

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou katsuki angst #bnha #bnha fic #bnha angst #bnha angst fic #mha #mha x reader #bakugou x reader

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