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universecorp · 4 months

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Hearbeat pt.2 Teaser

Summary: After starting a situationship with your best friend from high school, things start to become complicated. Especially when you start to catch feelings.

Jaehyun x Reader Haechan x Reader (In pt2 and 3 )

w.c.: 2.3k

Genre: Comedy, smut, and angst

Warnings: Sexual themes, small argument

PLAYLIST: ♡

Sitting in a Dennys at 2:00 AM is not how you expected your night to end. You and Donghyuck had spent the better part of an hour talking and getting to know each other. He was easy to talk to, and funny, you didn’t feel like you were forcing any of your reactions which made you feel a lot more at ease than usual.

“Wait, you're Haechan? The streamer?” Donghyuck nodded, shoveling a scoop of hash browns into his mouth. “That’s so fucking crazy, my best friend loves your streams. We used to fuck and I remember one time he got the notification for your stream and stopped mid fuck to watch you.” Donghyuck nearly choked on the strip of bacon he was munching on.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You shook your head. “That’s so sick, did he at least like pick up where he left off while watching?” Another shake.

“I had to push him on his back and ride him.” Donghyuck laughed loudly, catching the attention of most of the other late night eaters, but it was clear he didn’t care.

“Now that I think about it, there was this one time I read a comment and it deadass said ‘I was fucking my girl and stopped to watch.’ I thought it was probably a troll, but that might’ve been him.”

You scoffed, shaking your head once again. “There’s no way that was him, he would never refer to me as ‘his girl’ it would be kind of funny if that was him though.” Donghyuck hummed in agreement, it was all he could do since he didn’t even know Jaehyun.

There was a small awkward silence filled only with the sounds of plates clinking and light chatter from the other patrons. Donghyuck looked like he was having a debate with himself befofe hr finally opened his mouth. “Look, uhm, I don’t usually do this, I honestly don’t usually take my hookups to pre-breakfast either, but I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You were a bit shocked. You thought maybe this was normal and Donghyuck was just one of those nice guys who treated his fucks to post coiatal meals. Hearing otherwise brought a bit of heat to your cheeks.

“So uh… is that a no? Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Oh no, wait no, I mean yes! Yes… you can have my number.”

“You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately. You and big head aren’t fucking again right?” Minjeong was doing your nails on the floor of your dorm, and you were definitely making it hard since you were texting Donghyuck with the hand she was trying to get you to dry.

“Of course not. I’m texting a new guy, I met him at that party me and Jae went to.” Minjeong perked up at the mention of a new guy. Talks like these reminded you of being a teenager, but they were always relaxing. You seriously owed Minjeong some girl time anyway with how far up Jaehyun’s ass you had been for the past year.

“So what’s his name?”

“Donghyuck, he goes here obviously, also get this, ” Minjeong leaned in “he’s that streamer that Jae likes a lot.”

“No way!?” Minjeong gasped, she accidentally swiped a little polish on your finger, but you didn’t mind.

You nodded, smiling basically ear to ear. “Yes way, and he’s so cute. He’s telling me how he wants to take me on a date this weekend!” You closed your phone to give Minjeong your undivided attention while she swiped acetone over her previous mistake.

“I’m happy for you, I know I was kind of an ass with all the ‘I told you so’, but I really just wanted you to be with someone who treats you for what you’re worth.” You knew that, but hearing it felt really good. You always knew Minjeong was just looking out for you, but she also knew that whatever you felt for Jaehyun wasn’t going away like magic. Even now you sometimes felt a twinge of what you used to when he did certain things, but it wasn’t as strong as it was a month ago.

“It’s ok Minnie, I know you only had my best interest.” You brought your nails hand up to blow on the wet polish. “Look on the bright side though, I went through all that and now I've learned my lesson. No more wasting time or energy on people who don’t deserve it.”

Minjeong jostled your shoulder, “That’s my girl.”

A week later you were with Donghyuck in his apartment, playing a co-op game called “it takes two” that he specifically bought for the date. He turned on his twitch to stream, but he left his mic off to enjoy the moment with you. He was ticking so many boxes and even Minjeong gave him the stamp of approval when he met her a couple hours ago. Everything today was perfect, he bought you flowers, ordered from your favorite takeout place and even surprised you with slippers for you to wear around the apartment. You had been seeing each other for about a month now so you figured he would be asking you to be his girlfriend soon, but you were in no rush. His gestures meant the world to you and even then just his presence was enough for you to feel satisfied.

Now the two of you were snuggled up side by side, controllers in hand and your head on his shoulder. Nothing could ruin this moment, nothing except your phone which had been buzzing on the nightstand for a good two minutes. “Hey babe, I can pause if you wanna get that?” You looked up at Donghyuck with a small pout before shaking your head. You felt bad that whoever was calling you clearly didn’t get the memo that you were busy.

“We can keep playing, I’ll talk and play, m’sorry.” Donghyuck waved it off as he waited for you to answer your phone. You rolled your eyes slightly when you saw Jaehyun’s photo, but still answered the facetime call. “What’s up loser?” You sounded less than enthused, but he should’ve expected that since you ignored his calls for two minutes.

“God what crawled up your ass and died weirdo and why aren’t you showing your face?” Jaehyun scoffed as if his facetime screen wasn’t paused.

“Just the fact that you’ve been calling me for two minutes. What the fuck did you want? I’m kinda busy.” You cursed under your breath since you and Donghyuck failed the game stage for the fifth time.

“First of all, I wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner and come watch a movie, I’ll buy obviously. Second of all, if you’re gonna lie about being busy at least make it believable, I can hear you playing a game in the background.” Jaehyun had some fucking nerve assuming you would lie to him about being busy, but you weren’t gonna fight about it. You were gonna be civil. Even though Donghyuck had heard the way you and Jaehyun talked to each other before, he was a little annoyed that the other man was accusing you of lying.

“Jae, I’m on a date and we’re playing a game, so I actually am very busy.

“Wait… are you playing ‘it takes two’?” Jaehyun didn’t know about Donghyuck. He knew you had been on dates, but since he didn’t ask who with, you didn’t bother telling him it was Donghyuck A.K.A. his favorite streamer.

“Yeah, with my date.” You knew you sounded like a bitch, but you didn’t care. Jaehyun had barely been hanging out with you and even then it seemed like he only wanted to when he was bored. You were trying to follow Minjeong’s and your own advice and stop wasting time on people that don’t deserve it.

“If you’re actually playing a game with your date, show your face and his, then show the tv.” You were so close to hanging up on Jaehyun, but when you saw the screen pause and suddenly your phone was being held up by Donghyuck.

Donghyuck didn’t look happy. All of the irritation must have been building up to a point where even Jaehyun looked concerned. “Look, Jaehyun, I get it, you’re bored. I’m sure you miss having Y/N at your beck and call because you knew she would drop anything for you before.” Jaehyun opened his mouth to speak, but one glare from Donghyuck had him closing it immediately. “Those times are past and whatever sick game you’re playing at needs to stop. Got it?” The silence on the line was loud, Donghyuck knew he made his point. “Good. Now I’m going to go back to playing games with my girlfriend, enjoy the stream Jaehyun.” With that he pressed the end call button with a sigh and immediately after you were straddling the man.

“Girlfriend huh?”

Donghyuck set his controller down and placed his hands on your hips, it was all he could do to look cool despite the blush rushing his face. “Yeah uhm… I was going to ask you later during pillow talk after some earth shattering sex, but this is cool too I guess.”

You giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek. “This is cool too, don’t worry. We can still have earth shattering sex but now as boyfriend and girlfriend.” It was Donghyuck’s turn to giggle now. “Do you want to keep playing, we could even turn on the mic?”

Haechan shook his head, “No I think it’s time for that earth shattering sex we were talking about.” You bit your lip trying to suppress a laugh, he was so goofy and hot at the same time, you didn’t understand how anyone could be capable of that.

“I think that can be arranged…boyfriend.”

“He told you off?” Mark nearly yelled, catching the attention of several of the other students in the library.

“Dude keep it down, we’re in a library.” Johnny reminded before focusing back on his music theory assignment.

“Sorry, he told you off?” Mark asked again this time in a more suitable whisper.

“Yes, and she didn’t say shit bro, she just let him.” Jaehyun grumbled, taking a chip from the bag Johnny had managed to smuggle in.

Johnny was pretty unamused with the entire situation, given that he asked if the two men wanted to study in the library, but had basically been talking the whole time. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s over how you treat her. I know you think you’re like bestie of the year, but you literally evaded her feelings for at least 6 months just so you would have an easy fuck.”

Jaehyun scoffed, “Remind me to stop telling you about my problems.” Johnny simply rolled his eyes before training them back on the score in front of him.

“I mean he has a point. You knew she caught feelings a while ago, and your agreement was to break it off, but you kept everything up. Plus you were the one who kept fucking with her and being all domestic, she’s probably traumatized.” Jaehyun shot a glare at Mark; he did not come here to be ganged up on.

“She can’t be but so traumatized since she spends all her time with Haechan, or Donghyuck, whatever the fuck his name is.” Mark and Johnny looked ready to hit their heads against the table, but clearly this was a delicate situation that needed to be nurtured and cared for so that Jaehyun would actually get some sense.

“Jae, buddy, pal, old friend if you will.”

“Get to the point Johnathan.”

Johnny sighed, “See the point is, she’s in a relationship now. You had your 15 minutes of fame where she basically avoided getting into something because she was holding out hope for you. Now, she’s tired of waiting. She wants something that makes her feel loved and worth it and frankly, your bare minimum effort of taking her back to your place to watch a movie and then fuck, isn’t cutting it.”

“Bars.” Mark fist bumped Johnny, adding an explosion sound effect at the end.

“You guys are losers. She didn’t seem to be complaining about the movie and fuck a couple months ago.” Mark cringed and Johnny simply shook his head at the way their friend could so shamelessly talk about you like that.

“Jaehyun, listen to yourself, you sound delusional. She may not have been complaining, but that’s also because if she did you would’ve had to break all of that off. You’re acting like she broke up with you when the two of you weren’t even together in the first place.” Johnny’s volume was starting to increase, but he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t the closest to you, but he refused to let Jaehyun disrespect you like this. “Also you literally only text or call her now when we can’t hang out. Do you think that makes her feel good?” Jaehyun opened his mouth, but Johnny cut him off. “Don’t answer that because I know you’re about to say some bullshit. You need to get with the program and stop treating her like some play thing that you decide to pick up everytime your other toys are broken!” Johnny finished closing his laptop and packing up his belongings.

“Dude, where are you going?” Jaehyun groaned before looking at Mark who was following in Johnny’s actions. “You too? Come on!”

Mark just shook his head, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before speaking again. “Dude, you have some serious soul searching to do. We don’t mind if you vent, but the way you talk about and treat her is sick.” Jaehyun just clicked his teeth in response to the younger man.

“Whatever.” Jaehyun stood up from the table and stormed out of the library.

“He needs to get laid.”

“Totally.” Mark agreed.

Taglist: @snapcracklen, @peachesmilk

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rockitmans · 1 year

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Blaine Anderson Vs Valentine's Day

Summary: Blaine drunk posts on his Instagram asking for a date for Valentine's Day. He gets one.

Notes: Written for the @klaineccfanficlibrary Valentine Challenge. I'm gonna write this daily so chapters will probably be short and sweet. Today's song is Lovely Day by Bill Withers.

Warnings: Drunken decision making, unsolicited dick pics

Read on AO3 or below

~~~~~~~~

The Instagram post is obviously a mistake. But in Blaine's defence he was:

very drunk

unwilling to give up a reservation at Di Fara, a booking he'd made nine months previously to guarantee a table for Valentine's Day, and

clearly losing his mind because of very justifiable reasons and therefore found the whole thing hilarious. At the time.

It probably would have been fine except Blaine has, at this point, gathered quite a respectable following with his reels of genre bending interpretations of popular songs. There reaches a point where one becomes an actual Influencer and posting dumb shit on the internet stops being a joke between friends and starts being an example of youth culture going off the rails. Or something. He's not even a youth. He's in his late twenties.

He winces through his hangover as he looks at the post again. He'd gotten Sam, who is an enabler more than anything, to take it. He's shirtless, posing like a total fuck boy with his hair artfully tousled and giving the camera his best sultry expression. An expression that he would never willingly admit to practising in the mirror. It's so cringey he can barely breathe.

Which is nothing compared to the caption.

Wanted: Valentine's Day Date

I have reservations for two at Di Fara, but SEBASTIAN decided he was more interested in fucking some guy from the gym than eating the best Italian food in New York. I thought it was weird that he couldn't even pick me up with all the time he was spending at the gym. Your loss SEBASTIAN, I would hate to waste such an amazing dining experience on a rat face LIAR.

Offering: This hot body. A fully paid meal comprised of aforementioned excellent Italian food. Salvation from a Valentine's Day evening spent Sad and Alone.

Seeking: A man that is not Sebastian.

The comment section is flooded of course. There's well over four hundred, a massive number for him, and probably includes some non followers. If he knew it was this easy to manufacture engagement on his posts, he would have done it a long time ago. A quick skim indicates a range of reactions. From sorrow for his break up with Sebastian - who was once a regular on his feed - to hilarity at the nature of the post, to quite sincere sales pitches as to why they should be the one to get the date.

sebsational94 my name is sebastian but I am not THE sebastian. I would never play you like that boo. can I still qualify? 😇

boooomers Can't believe this is the way we get to see Blaine Anderson shirtless. I am UNWELL

wlfricbea brooo you really be callin out ur man like this omg. rip king seb u will be missed

cherycool When you say you are offering your hot body, what are we talking here? 👀

tinbd @ cherycool Right? Is Blaine Anderson a Slut?

sofee.bailey Alexa, play Lovely Day by Bill Withers. Because it's always a lovely day when people take out the TRASH

musicallymotivatedd … still waiting for this cough syrup cover you keep promising 🙄

Blaine's phone buzzes in his hand and he almost drops it out of pure fear. But it's just a message from Tina laughing at him. And then demanding to know why he didn't just ask her to a fancy dinner. Which is a valid point. Blaine has several single friends he could have a fun evening with. But he was drunk on Peach Schnapps, not making functional decisions. He really is a slutty drunk and he literally never learns.

After a moment to psych himself up, he flips to his DMs, which are much worse. He's not particularly stringent with his privacy settings and his inbox is full of chat requests and a LOT of dick pics. As if he's going to pick a date based on the shape of someone's dick. It's exhausting.

He taps out a message to Tina.

Blaine: I've never seen so many dicks in my life

Queen T: Sorry can't relate

She's useless.

Blaine: This isn't funny. I'm in an ocean of dick

Queen T: A sea of penis. A sea-nis if you will

Blaine: I won't

Queen T: Aw Blainey Days. Are you traumatised? I can come and make you some breakfast

Blaine: Yes please 🥺

Queen T: OMW

#klaine #kurt hummel x blaine anderson #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #my fic #fic: BA vs Valentine's Day

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

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subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

Text

Monsters and Legends

Don’t worry, it’s fluff :)

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Villain and hero need to stop a bigger villain by somehow acting as a couple, only for them to share a single room and a single bed (im grinning so hard rn) I giggled when I read this request:

******

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

“Why are you calling me?” Hero’s voice was a groan, one annoyed and filled with malice- or was it anxiousness?

Villain understood he was probably the last person Hero would want to hear from. Why would the bad guy of the city be calling her anyways, and how’d he find her number? Those were questions which Hero could ask later. For now- “I need your help,” Villain pleaded right away.

“You need my help?” Hero laughed brittlely on the other end of the line. That’s how Villain heard it, at least. “What makes you think I would ever help y-”

“Supervillain.”

The line went silent as the horror of such a simple name settled in. It wouldn’t matter to Hero how Supervillain’s name still existed- why it was still being muttered, unforgotten. All that meant was that Supervillain was still prevalent, which further meant something needed to be done.

“Is he still alive?”

Well, I suppose that’s a question I can answer for now. “Yes, that’s why I need you. I can’t vanquish him on my own, Hero.”

Yeah? What was Hero supposed to do about it? She wasn’t capable of fighting Supervillain, even if she fought him alongside Villain. The two of them together were still no match for such a beast, a mistake made by nature. Supervillain wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for his ill intentions.

“We beat him before, Hero,” Villain said after another long silence. “We can do it again.”

Hero said, “If we beat him before, then why is he back?” This wasn’t the first time Hero felt hopeless. Even before Supervillain, she had days where she was convinced Villain was unbeatable. She got past that part of her depression, obviously, but it didn’t mean that anxiety didn’t exist elsewhere- such as when it came to Supervillain. “Villain, I quit this business after the first round. I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

“I know.” Villain nodded, even knowing Hero wouldn’t see it on the phone pressed against her ear. “I know, and I get it.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have called.”

Villain sighed. Maybe she was right, but… “You’re the only one I know who can pull this off.”

“Pull what off, Villain? What plan have you made up that you think might actually be enough? We killed Supervillain. We killed him, and yet you’re telling me that he’s alive? We can’t beat him.”

How could Villain say this? How did he portray this compliment without it sounding like an insult? “Where you lack in strength, you lead in intelligence. You- you’re able to think things out in a moment, whereas it takes me ages. You are so much more capable than you think you are and, believe it or not, I have always admired you.”

Right. Hero wasn’t so certain Villain was telling the truth. Sure, she was smart, and she could even admit that, but…intelligence couldn’t defeat an undead man. Even if it did, what made Villain say something kind to her? He would never spare a compliment to someone as poor as Hero; he wouldn’t spare an insult either. And anyways, who would admire an anxious mess? Not a villain, not by any means, right?

“Why do you need me? What has made you turn to a last resort?” Last resort, meaning asking anyone for help when Villain preferred to work alone.

Villain’s palms were sweating, his phone nearly sliding out of his hand the longer he remained on the line. “He wants my allegiance. Rejecting him would be a death sentence, and you know it. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not just yet. At the same time, I am not going to work for or with this guy.”

Hero was still failing to understand. “How do I fit into this,” she rephrased, “beyond you needing my intelligence?”

“Supervillain never knew you. He doesn’t know your face, your name, your priorities.”

“And?”

“And I told him I have a wife who insists on working with me.”

No. No, no, no. No. But she didn’t say this. “So, you are asking me to jeopardize my own life by appearing at your side as a fake wife who doesn’t know how to properly defend herself.”

“I could teach you, Hero. I’m trained. Strength means nothing if your opponent has technique. I can teach you,” Villain repeated, hands heating impossibly more. “Do this for me and I’ll- I’ll…”

Precisely. “There is nothing you can offer me, Villain.”

“If you don’t do this,” Villain returned, gripping his phone with white knuckles, and curled toes which dug into his carpeted floor, “everyone else will suffer for it. Yourself, included. I don’t know about you, but I think you’ve suffered enough.”

You don’t mean that, Hero wanted to say. You don’t mean anything nice that you’re saying. You’re just desperate. You know that I’ll do anything if it means someone will tell me they’re proud of me at the end of the day. She thought this of everyone- even herself, only she knew someone else was more likely to say they were proud of her than herself.

How did anyone ever call her a hero when she couldn’t even save her own mind from destroying itself?

Easy.

She was a villain to herself, and a hero to others.

“How do I know he’s alive? Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

Villain almost said yes, but he knew Hero would require proof. She didn’t trust herself, let alone anyone else in the world. “There is no evidence of him, but if you’d like to handcuff me every moment we are alone, then I suppose I will hand that to you as your security.”

Hero’s eyes widened. She didn’t have handcuffs; she was no officer, but for Villain to say that, and with such a serious tone…he wouldn’t say something so disadvantageous to him if he didn’t mean it- if it weren’t necessary to gain Hero’s assistance.

“What will it mean,” Hero asked, “to be your wife?”

***

“Supervillain paid for our room.”

Our room? Hero blinked hard before glancing around the hotel lobby. Well, it was beautiful, but Hero hardly had the brain capacity to think about that. “You said our room,” she commented, lips thin and an eyebrow quirked.

“We’re husband and wife.”

“We’re pretending to be husband and wife,” Hero said in a hush-hush tone, hand squeezing Villain’s for umph.

Even as she said it quietly, Villain scolded her lightly, “Lower your voice if you’re going to say things like that.” Villain began his trek to the elevator, arm extending behind him as Hero followed, hand still in his. As much as she hated this act, she sure did like to hold his hand, it seemed. Maybe it was her anxiety which told her any hand was a good hand, even if it were stained in life after life of blood and tears.

“I don’t want to share a room with you,” Hero whispered, so low that Villain wouldn’t have heard her fully had he not turned his ear towards her as they walked down the hall of the seventh floor. “How will I know you won’t take advantage of me?”

Right. No handcuffs. “You think I’d try to kill you after I called you and begged for your help?”

“It could be a trap,” Hero said, tugging her hand out of Villain’s, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“Maybe. But imagine if it isn’t a trap. Imagine you back out now, and the world goes extinct. What regrets would you have then? Surely, they wouldn’t be as bad as committing yourself to a trap, causing only yourself harm instead of billions.”

His tone wasn’t condescending, but it held such magnificence that Hero couldn’t help but cast her eyes downward and nod in silent guilt. Guilt because why couldn’t she have thought of such a scenario on her own? Was she selfish for being so afraid of Villain?

“You’re right.” Hero nodded. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”

Villain took her hand in his own again, softly, with fragile care. “You don’t need to apologize. Your nerves aren’t without reason. I’ll admit I’m not the most trustworthy man. I get it. Remember you are not jeopardizing yourself for me. You’re doing it for the world.”

***

The bed was comfortable- even with Villain laying by Hero’s side. Actually, Villain being by her side might have been what made it so comfortable. The blanket which the hotel provided was too warm, but the body heat which Villain radiated was just comfortable enough that Hero struggled to keep her distrusting eyes open.

“I don’t believe this,” Hero whispered in the dark of the room, expecting Villain to be fast asleep. Apparently, he slept as little as she did.

Villain rolled flat against the mattress before turning on his other side to face Hero, earning a light gasp of surprise from her. “About Supervillain?” he asked- suggesting that Supervillain was still alive.

After regaining a state of sanity, Hero mumbled that, yes, Supervillain being alive seemed unreal, but that wasn’t what she meant. She meant that she was laying next to a man who she both despised and was deathly frightened of, and yet she was comfortable with it- comfortable with his heat. It shouldn’t have meant much; it was only science at play, but it still irked her. Of course, Hero didn’t say any of this.

“It isn’t so bad sharing a bed, is it?” Villain yawned and did a little stretch with his arms, groaning as the skin and muscles of his torso stretched. “You have your side. I have mine.”

“Not so bad,” she agreed.

There was still a danger to it, Hero acknowledged. She was still side-by-side with a villain, still frightened by the thought of Villain silently reaching over the moment he heard Hero’s breathing slowing, pushing a knife against her sleeping body, and shiv her through without a thought. It was possible, and it was likely, wasn’t it?

“Have you thought about what you’ll do tomorrow?” Villain asked.

“Me?” Hero swallowed. “I…no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“That’s unlike you.”

Hero turned her head over her shoulder, finding Villain’s moonlight glinting eyes. “Asking someone for help is unlike you. What made you do it?”

“I couldn’t do it alone. I told you-”

“That’s not the truth. Well, it is, but it’s not the full truth.” Hero paused. “When have you ever admitted that you aren’t enough to accomplish a goal? You sought me out for my intelligence, but what else? You don’t ask for help, Villain. It’s not who you are.”

Silence followed, giving hero enough time to gather the courage it took to roll over, to face Villain with her whole body like he did with her before yawning.

“I’m scared,” Villain said, matter-of-factly. “I’m scared that when it is all over, then history will forget me for all the terrible things I’ve done.”

Confused, Hero asked, “Wasn’t the reason you chose the dark side because your crimes would be so extravagantly memorable?” This conversation wasn’t aiding Hero’s underlying fear of lying in bed with Villain. Still, she wanted answers.

“I realized I was wrong. If I don’t do something good for once, I’ll be remembered as a monster, and you see, I want to be remembered as a legend.” Villain drew in a deep breath, turning his head slightly away from Hero before exhaling. “There’s a difference between monsters and legends, I realized. Honour is legendary; Fear is monstrous. Having said that, there’s no fear in honour, so what’s the point in all those criminal activities except mindlessness and naivety? It’s not as fun or rewarding as I thought it’d be.”

“You stay awake and think at night like I do, don’t you?”

Villain nodded. Hero nodded.

Hero’s hand slid across the sheets until her fingertips touched Villain’s. Holding his hand was comforting when she considered they would be meeting Supervillain tomorrow- that Villain’s face would be the only familiar one, the only one she could trust even though she hardly even trusted it at all.

Hearing what Villain said now, in the deepest stage of the night…maybe he was worth trusting.

Maybe there was a good reason she was holding his hand.

And maybe there was a good reason she enjoyed the warmth that rolled off her body.

Maybe there was a reason beyond anxiousness and fear that made Hero’s heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Do you think we could both be legends?” Hero asked, to which Villain responded, with a tight squeeze of Hero’s hand:

“I do.”

It wasn’t the only time he would utter those words. Next time, Hero would be wearing a white gown, and Villain, a tux.

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bibliocratic · 3 years

Note

45 or 10 from the kiss prompt for JonMartin? :)

Thank you!! :D Number 10 Already posted - > Number 19, Number 26, Number 38

Broad spoilers for S5 up to 194. Content warnings in the tags

MARTIN … and that’ll be all outside, and y-you’ll be able to see them, through the glass doors at the back. […] [muzzy] Jon?

[…]

[slightly more urgent] Jon.

JON [woozy, coming to] Hmm?

MARTIN Just. [obviously relieved] Just checking.

Thought you’d lost me?

MARTIN … a bit. Yeah.

JON I’m still here. [a shifting sound of unstable brickwork] I think one of my arms has gone to sleep.

MARTIN ‘s what happens when you bring the whole building down on us. JON [mock affronted] It was a team effort, thank you. MARTIN [a small quirking laugh, trailing off into a wet-sounding cough] My mistake.

… Jon?

JON … sorry, it’s – hard. To stay awake, now the Eye’s… [a self-deprecating sound] I didn’t realise how much I needed it.

MARTIN [trying to reassure] I know. It’s… it’s OK. [a gasping wince] Fuuuck. Jesus.

JON Try not to move too much.

MARTIN [through gritted teeth] Fantastic advice. [another grunt of pain] N-not like there’s… [shuddering inhale] … anywhere I can go.

[the silence is sober, a conversation already had and ran dry]

JON I think I can… give me a…

MARTIN W’ are you doing?

JON I can... if I just…

[the sound of a dead-weight dragging, laboured panting, several moments of this]

[the movement stops]

Argh. That’s… that’s better.

MARTIN [pushing for light-hearted] Any – huh – any excuse for a cuddle. You’re getting dust all over me. JON You weren’t going to be moving to me, so. It’s not exactly my fault you’re more comfortable to lie on than the floor.

MARTIN High praise there, don’t – heh [wincing gasp] use up all your compliments at once.

JON [tentative] It doesn’t hurt when I…?

MARTIN No. Well, yes, but no more than the rest of it anyway.

JON I can…

MARTIN Stay. Please, Jon. I’d… I’d like you to.

JON …

Think anyone’s noticed all this mess yet?

MARTIN I mean, my guess is that Hill Top Road’ll just look like a construction site to anyone walking past. If it worked… if everything went… went back.

JON It worked. It has to have.

MARTIN [quiet] No one is coming then.

JON No. No, it’s just us.

MARTIN Right. Right. Suppose that’s not the worst conclusion.

JON [trying to keep himself together] No. It isn’t.

[silence for a few moments.]

JON Go – go on then. What’s next?

MARTIN What’s that?

JON Before. You were talking about the house.

MARTIN Oh. Thought you’d tuned out, to be honest.

JON I was listening.

MARTIN Any changes you’d make then?

JON Bigger garden. [a shifting creak of fabric – Martin gasps, and Jon apologises] Maybe a patio area.

MARTIN [winded, recovering with effort] Very fancy.

JON All that walking we did… think we – huh – deserve to be able to sit down in some deck chairs.

MARTIN Too right. [struggling, pushing the words out harsher] Your… your go then, lazybones.

JON What do you want me to say?

MARTIN Just… Tell me about a day we’d have. Any day.

JON [soft, tragically fond and heartbroken] Alright.

[clears throat] Right. So I’m… er, I’m in the kitchen. Um, cooking I guess?

MARTIN Heh, that’s a stretch – I’ve seen your kitchen skills.

[there’s muttering, and a tired chuckle] Ha, OK, sorry, sorry – spoiling the momentum. Carry on.

JON [affectedly prim] Thank you. Right, so I’m cooking. Pasta, o-or stir fry or – something easy, quick, not too much effort. It’s been a long day at work, and I left later than usual. It’s… yes, it’s dark outside, sometime in Autumn maybe, and I’ve put the heating on full blast. You’re… you’re usually home by now, but you… [trailing off]… you… um….

MARTIN [prompting] I’m caught in traffic?

JON [pulling himself back] Y-yes. You text me earlier, t-to tell me you’d got caught at the road works coming out of town, so you’re running late.

MARTIN Silly of me not to have taken the long way round to avoid it.

JON I’ve told you that. You haven’t replied but I know you’ve read it.

MARTIN I’m too proud to tell you you’re right.

JON Heh. Yeah. [a ripped-up out sound]

MARTIN What next then?

JON Give… give me a minute. I-I, er…

MARTIN It’s alright. No rush.

JON [recovering from whatever episode has passed] OK. I’ve… I’ve got the radio on. I’m listening to some sort of talk show, and they’re going on about a political scandal of some sort.

MARTIN Tories at it again?

JON Of course. [warming to the thought] I know the commentators irritate you, so I only put it on when you’re not at home or if I know you’re working upstairs. And I – um… I’ve fed the cats, but they’re hovering around my legs hoping I drop something.

MARTIN [gently teasing] Cats plural, then? We had only had the one before.

JON They’ve multiplied.

MARTIN Hm. Our squadron of cats know you’re a soft touch, and that you’ll accidentally-on-purpose drop something.

JON I would never.

MARTIN Liar.

JON True.

The cats are hovering. And I’m thinking about… well, nothing special. The day, things I want to get done tomorrow. I’ve got a pile of marking to do, but I’m going to leave it, because it’s Friday, and you’re always telling me I need to set healthier work-life boundaries.

MARTIN I’m being listened to? A true miracle.

JON Hush. Anyway, the food… it’s a pasta bake, and it’s in the oven. And I’m tidying up because the kitchen’s messy, and then I hear your key. You’re kind of muttering loudly and I can hear you through the glass in the front door. The lock sticks sometimes, but only ever when you use it.

MARTIN [pained, words pushed through teeth] S-so we’ve a cursed door. N-nice touch.

JON …

MARTIN A-and then…?

JON You… [groaning] Christ, I’m… I’m getting really dizzy.

MARTIN Shh. I-It’s alright, it’s ok. Close your eyes, deep breaths.

JON [a series of stuttering breaths] Y-you come in. Your bag slumps heavy on the floor, I’m always telling you it’ll give you a bad back, the weight you put in that’s making the straps fray. You kick off your shoes, b-but then you set them neatly by the door, right alongside mine. And then you greet the cats and stroke them behind the ears and you fuss and coo in a silly little voice at them.

And then you – you kiss me on the cheek. Without thinking. Not – not that it doesn’t mean anything. Like you’ve… [huff] you’ve done it so many times now it’s a habit, that we’ve had the chance to make over all the years we’ve had together…

…

Martin?

MARTIN [drowsy, words slurring] K-keep going love. I’m… ‘m listening.

JON [it is audibly harder for the words to come to him, but pushing on almost desperate, voice thick] … and I kiss you back, and ask you how your day was… you have a bit of a moan. Y-you’ve wrapped your hands around me now, and you’re freezing and I tell you if you don’t let go, the dinner’s going to burn, and you tell me the tea will be just fine for another minute, and I tease and ask if you’re speaking Northern again, l-like it’s a running joke of ours – and, huh – you pretend to be offended…

And while we eat, we talk. About… about so many little nothings we’ve made into somethings, a-and…

[drained, lost] I-I can’t think of anything else.

…

Martin?

[fracturing] Martin?

[a trembling swallowed sob] Alright. ‘s alright, you rest, I-I’ll keep going. Jus’ give me a minute to catch my breath…

[harsh inhale, exhale]

[inhale, exhale]

[stop]

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #jonmartin #kiss prompt #cw death #cw injury #hurt/comfort

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favefandomimagines · 3 years

Text

Join the Club (b.b.)

Summary: two ticking time bombs find solace in each other

AN: had my self a little Captain America triple feature today and I miss bucky barnes so enjoy lol also since we haven’t met any of the other marvel universe characters, the reader has Magneto’s powers, do with that what you will

taglist: @amourtentiaa

There were many words people used to describe you. Asset, liability, crazy, tortured. The list went on and on and those were words you were accustomed to hearing for so long.

Growing up as an enhanced individual made you a social periah from the get go. You always thought you were a freak and that there was no one else like you.

You thought there was nowhere or no one that made you feel wanted until you met a small mob family in New York City. They told you you’d be the number one asset and ‘part of the family.’ But they used you. Used you to kill people and if you showed any hesitation, they’d torture you with various weapons. None of them metal so you couldn’t fight back.

The only way to escape was killing them all. And again, you were back to feeling like the outcast and now a murderer.

Until Tony Stark himself recruited you for a ‘mission’ of sorts.

He showed up at your apartment and asked for your help. And who were you to say no to Tony Stark?

“I’m nothing special, Mr. Stark. I’ve done some really bad things.” You told the man. The billionaire was sitting across from you on your living room couch as you fiddled with the tea cup in your hand. “On the contrary, Y/N. You have the ability to anything with metal in it. That’s a gift. You did what you had to do to survive. I know all about your past.” Tony said.

“You’re probably the first and only person who thinks that.” You said. “I need your help. Captain Rogers and I had a falling out and I need you to help me stop him from making a huge mistake. And then you can come work for Stark Industries.” The man told you.

You looked at him for a moment when you realized you had nothing left to lose.

From that day on, being at the Avengers compound had made you feel like a little less of an outcast. You had Wanda, who you sparred with a few times. Using your powers of course. Clint made you laugh and had a paternal sense about him that you could tell came from having three children. He was obviously a natural at it.

You played pranks on Steve and Sam, giving their signature shield and flight suit were made out of metal. And then there was Bucky Barnes. The infamous Winter Solider that you have heard numerous stories about.

You felt bad for him. He was used as a pawn in someone’s screwed up game and faced the consequences for it every single day. You could relate to that on a lot of levels. You were quite the insomniac and had issues falling asleep so you ran into him in the kitchen on a few occasions.

He told you about the night terrors and how every time he closed his eyes he saw all of the terrible things he had done. Every single thing HYDRA had him do and every person they had him kill. From that point on, you and Bucky had formed a bond. A bond that soon surpassed the levels of friendship and blossomed into a romantic relationship.

Bucky had told you that you sleeping next to him seemed to be the only thing that stopped his past from haunting him in his sleep and you soon spent many nights in his bed.

You and Bucky had went to bed like it was any normal night. You showered and laid in bed for a few hours before the both of you had drifted off to sleep. But your insomnia struck again and you slowly got out of the bed and made your way to the kitchen.

After making a small cup of tea, you stepped back into the dark bedroom, cup in hand. You assumed Bucky was still deeply asleep but were quickly proven wrong when you felt a hand wrapped around your throat and your body was pushed against the wall.

The cup left your hand and shattered to the floor but the sound wasn’t enough to knock Bucky out of his trance. “Bucky.” You croaked out.

“Bucky, it’s me.” Your voice strained, trying to pry Bucky’s hand off of your neck. You looked down at your free hand and used all of the strength you had left to focus on Bucky’s metal arm and soon you felt the oxygen hit your lungs as he was thrown across the room.

But oxygen wasn’t enough to keep you awake and alert. You fell to the ground and completely lost consciousness.

When you woke up, you were back in your own bedroom. Steve was sitting in the chair in the corner asleep, in a position that looked rather uncomfortable.

“Steve, wake up.” You tried to say, your voice coming out hoarse. The man stirred and woke up, seeing that you were awake as well. “Y/N, how are you feeling?” He asked. “What happened?” You asked. “Bucky, he, uh, had a night terror. He must have been startled and he tried to kill you.” Steve explained. “No, no I know that. Where is he?” You questioned.

“We don’t know. After he came to get Nat and I he just took off. Said that he was too dangerous to be around you.” The man answered. “I have to go find him. He didn’t mean to hurt me.” You said, moving to stand up. “Are you sure? You were completely drained of energy.” Steve rebutted. “Yes, I’m sure. Bucky thinks he’s a monster and now he probably feels even worse.” You explained.

Steve sighed as he also rose to his feet. “I’ll help you find him. You’re important to him and if anyone can talk to him it’s you.” He said. You gave him a grateful smile as he helped you stand.

You hacked into every traffic and public camera you could and discovered that he had taken a Greyhound bus to Washington DC. “Why would he go to DC? That’s a five hour bus ride.” You asked Steve. “The Smithsonian. They have an exhibit there and he has his own display.” Steve answered. “Then we’re going.” You ordered.

Five hours later, Steve dropped you off at the museum and you began your search for Bucky. And it wasn’t too difficult to find the exhibit on Captain America. You wandered around and examined the photos and read the plaques when you stumbled upon a man standing directly in front of the exhibit for James Buchanan Barnes.

You noticed that he had been standing there longer than most of the patrons and you could sense it was Bucky. Approaching him slowly, you maintained your distance as you stopped next to him.

“You look good with short hair.” You commented, looking at the photo. Bucky looked over at you with a pained expression before you finally made eye contact with him.

HIs gaze shifted downwards towards your neck and he clenched his jaw upon seeing the dark purple bruise around it.

“How’d you find me?” He asked. “Well, I found out you took a bus to get here and Steve connected the dots.” You answered. “Why are you here, Y/N? After what I did?” Bucky questioned. “Because it was an accident. You didn’t mean to have night terrors.” You said.

“I could have killed you. I’m a monster.” Bucky said. “Join the club.” You replied. “You’re not the only Avenger on a redemption arc, Barnes.” You added, slightly agitated as his self loathing. “What do you mean?” Bucky asked.

You looked at him for a second before looking back at the picture of him. “I killed my mom. It was an accident but I did. We were arguing on me not wanting to go to Saturday detention at school. I refused to get in the car and I got angry. So angry, my powers went out of control and I crushed the car with my mind. It was so bad my aunt told the police it was a hit and run. I had to stage my mother’s death because I was the one who killed her. Then I joined a mob family as their personal hit man because it was the only way I could survive. Even then, if I didn’t comply they’d torture me with plastic weapons because then there was no way I’d be able to fight back. I killed all of them the second I could.” You confessed.

You hadn’t told anyone but Tony about the real reason you had been on your own since you were 16 and your own past demons. You didn’t tell Bucky but you always told him you understand how it felt to be out of control.

“You didn’t mean to do it.” Bucky spoke. “I know. Just like you didn’t mean to hurt me. You weren’t in control because you still thought you were the Winter Soldier. It wasn’t your fault.” You said.

“There will always be a part of us that emulates our past whether we like it or not.” You added. “I just, I can’t risk hurting you again.” Bucky replied. “I know you’re afraid but you’re not going to hurt me again. Not if you don’t let what they did to you control you. You’re stronger than them, James and you’re the one in control now. Not HYDRA.” You said.

Bucky looked at you with a sense of adoration. No one had ever treated him with such compassion before. Steve and Sam used the tough love tactic and Tony would just show him zero pity. But you treated him with care and love and no one had done that before since he escaped HYDRA.

“You’ve never told me about your past before.” Bucky finally said. “Because I was afraid. You’d find out I wasn’t the clean and shiny Y/N you thought I was when we met. That you’d not want to be with someone with a damaged past.” You explained. “I love you because you’re you not because I thought you were clean and shiny.” He said.

Your head snapped up from the floor to look at him with wide eyes. He had never told you that before and you didn’t know if you were hearing things. You had told him you loved him and you knew he wasn’t ready to say it back. You understood. Those feelings don’t come lightly after one has the past Bucky has had.

“W-What did you say?” You asked. “That I love you.” He confirmed. “You’ve never told me that before.” You said. “But I mean it. I haven’t felt this way for anyone before.” Bucky said.

You stepped closer to Bucky and wrapped your arms around him tightly. Whatever tension Bucky was feeling instantly melted away and you felt his body soften.

“You’re gonna be okay, Buck. I promise.” You whispered.

Bucky held on to you like a lifeline and you held on to him and for the first time since Bucky escaped HYDRA, he truly believed he was going to be okay.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #marvel imagine #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson

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sir-gale · 3 years

Text

MHA hcs/bullet points for Valentines Day

(Ft. Midoriya, Todoroki and Bakugou)

Not sure how to describe this, but you know how most of the time we have these characters be gentlemen?

What if we did it to them.

That’s the synopsis.

Warnings: FLUFF, SLIGHT ANGST, SLIGHT SWEARING

Izuku Midoriya

(a.k.a. Deku)

Izuku has always been a very affectionate person

He always wants to spoil you, he cuddles you, he just wants to do this because he’s just as serious about you two as he is with everything else. He doesn’t want you to feel alone even when he’s busy working hard to achieve his dream.

Being the number one hero would lose its meaning without you by his side after all,

Is honestly just the best boyfriend ever. Top tier.

So you two are out on a ~date~

Let’s be honest you can’t go anywhere without seeing all might merch

Especially now that Valentine’s Day is coming around

he’s being super attentive, connecting, just making you feel loved.

And then you two see an all might merch store

You, knowing this is Dekus favorite place to go for his gear, wanna go in and browse

He’s so hesitant about it because he knows how he is (fanboy and all)

“A-are you sure? I can get really get carried away, todays supposed to be about you!”

You WILL drag him in if you have to

Because seeing him looking around with stars in his eyes makes you happy

Of course, he is now invested in a particular item, and you wander off to do some viewing of your own

It’s an all might plushy holding/hugging a heart with the sentence ‘You are plus ultra!’

Oh yes. You were going to get this. You didn’t even look at the price tag.

When I say you SNATCHED this mf-

And sure enough your bby was still in his little happy fanboy space (we’ve all been there)

You buy it.

Cashier was a bit scared. Of you, I mean.

You didn’t take the bag. Just hid the plushie behind you, grabbed izuku by the hood, dragged him out

He was really confused and kind of scared, but seeing your detirmined excited face he calmed down

Before he could say anything you revealed the toy and——

He stood there

Your arms stretched out fully extending it towards him

And he just stared so you went

‘For you’ •^•

He cried.

He bawled.

Literal waterfalls.

He’s already hearing wedding bells.

He’s on cloud nine.

He hugs you so hard for like five minutes squeeling and just.. words of appreciation and love and gratitude

~(I don’t feel the need to make a comment that people were staring at the unveiling seen but just letting you know)~

He carries that plush tight against his chest for the rest of the day, your arms hooked together, no matter how uncomfortable it is to walk shoulder to shoulder like that.

He loves you so much. Thank you for doing this.

Shoto Todoroki

(a.k.a icyhot)

Todoroki has always tried to make up for his cold attitude and overall emotional absence with small things

Whether it be something that he bought, quality time, and other small things that wouldn’t mean much if it were anyone else

But you know. And you really appreciate how much he loves you and shows it.

Only problem is, he’s not sure what he’s doing. He knows that you love him, he knows that he loves you, he just wishes he has the courage to back it up with his words

(Little does he know you’ve been preparing a lil something for valentines day >:))

Whether your a perceptive person or not, after being with him you know how to tell it’s been a hard day for him.

So when he calls you and asks if you want him to take you out, you say ‘no thanks baby’. He really questioned it

“Are you sure? Valentines day is coming up, we haven’t done much for the occasion..”

Once you reassure him, Todoroki is mildly relieved. He loves you, so so much and your presence makes him feel very good, but he just needs today to himself

that didn’t stop the guilt from pouring in. He didn’t want to be neglectful. The fear of that uncertainty in your relationship, he felt bad for doubting you and him. The entire trip home Shoto is in his own head on what couples ‘should’ be like. What a good boyfriend ‘should’ be.

Even though it was him having the bad day, even though you sounded perfectly chipper over the phone, and he was very much deflated, he was considering some sort of grand gesture or expensive gift.

Walking into the house, completely lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice the smooth white box with a note on it

‘Happy Valentines Day!~ You deserve it :)’ Was written on the sticky note

Shoto, now out of his head, opened up the box. Inside was a folded sweater. Before he read what was on it, he set it aside and read the paper at the bottom.

‘I designed this myself. I hope you like it. I hope you know how much I love you. You are the only one for me, no matter how cheesy that sounds.’

Small smile returning to Todoroki's face, your handwriting always seemed to bless his eyes. Anything that made him feel that you were there made him forget how inadequate he felt.

He then took the sweater and decided to go to a mirror, only then putting it on.

It was a light cream color, easy on the eyes. It was perfectly baggy on him. The soft small text sown into the front read ‘~you have my heart~’

Shoto absolutely adored it. If only someone was there to take a picture because this man was smiling like an idiot

He looked down almost bashfully, and then he realized, that with the fabric pooling on his hands, there was something on the sleeves.

Half of a heart on one sleeve, half on the other

Raising his wrists, having them face upwards and connect, it made one whole heart.

His own heart nearly exploded when he realized

Than he literally had your heart in his hands

He loves you so fucking much. Thank you for making this.

Katsuki Bakugou

(a.k.a Kacchan)

Bakugou KNOWS he is an asshole

He doesn’t deny it.

So at the beginning of the relationship, anxious anger issues boom boom boy had been so scared to hurt you with either his words or his quirk

He either goes overboard with treating you in dates or is completely opposed to touching

Sometimes he juggles in both.

“Hey, get anything you want alright? No! I don’t need your hand!”

Whiplash.

Getting you gifts is his way of feeling good enough for you. It obviously really bothers you but you haven’t figured out the right time to bring it up

One day though, you two decided to stay home and relax. This doesn’t happen often, as Bakugou usually doesn’t think it’s good enough for you, but after a lot of convincing he agreed to stay inside.

(You wanted to do this because you knew it was a bad day for him. He’s really out of it, making mistakes isn’t his thing)

This is a bit of a tricky situation for Katsuki, he realized he couldn’t just have a girlfriend without touching you no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

Okay but let’s be clear

It was VERY OBVIOUS that he wanted to touch you

It’s like he was trying to deny the fact that you had his eyes and ears, and he always fidgeted around

As if he wasn’t hot and sweaty enough -_-

Cut to him ready on the couch, movies almost on, you come out from the kitchen with two chai masala teas (extra spice in bakugou’s)

He doesn’t really know how to react to it.

“Thanks.”

He wishes he could sound as grateful as he feels.

And then, suddenly, you get on the couch and pull him into your embrace, his head on your chest.

“I know today sucks. Let me take care of you this time.”

“I love you Katsuki. I don’t need anymore jewlery. I just need your heart.”

He was damn near tears then. He was too tired to fight back and too emotional over his failures, he laid his head on your lap and for the rest of the night he was calmer than ever.

He loves you so much. Thank you.

157 notes · View notes

froog-water · 3 years

Text

howdy and hello

and thank you for finding this! If you enjoyed this madness that I have somehow managed into a story, then, please do not be afraid to interact! I am relatively new to the whole Apex scene and am, obviously, prone to make mistakes. If there is anything wrong, like spelling errors or something like that, just point it out and I will try to fix it :) This goes without saying but, apologies in advance if Bloodhound appears to be OOC or anything along those lines. As I said, I'm new to all this but I still wanted to try my luck with writing something so, yeah. Though the reader is written with the intention of being a female (she/her), there is really no specific mention of their gender (unless I missed it somewhere) so for now, the reader is greatly gender neutral :) Other than that, I hope whoever reads this likes it. This story is purely selfish and my response to the clear lack of good Bloodhound fics out there in the world

Upwards Over the Mountain (Bloodhound x Reader)

Chapter 1; next

From somewhere outside, beyond your stone walls, the world raged. The overhead night sky rumbled thick and dark with heavy rain clouds that every so often flashed with brilliant lightning and shook the ground with terrible thunder. Tonight was the last good storm of the year before winter set in to turn everything to ice and chill, and Mother Nature was holding nothing back.

The wind howled painfully and threatened to rip the bar's front door clean off its rusty, old hinges. Worriedly, you pass the rickety things a brief look, unsure if the storm would make due on its promise to ruin your night. Rain hammered endlessly on the ceiling and your lights gave a concerning flicker - there was still time yet.

As your hands busied themselves with the cleaning of the day's mess, wiping down tables, and stacking plates and glasses for washing, your mind wandered to the security of your late-evening patrons. You whisper to yourself, and whatever god was listening, a silent prayer for their safe journey home.

The town you had precariously made your home was a terribly small farming community nestled tightly to the base of a mountain, families here were numbered and small and people were old and simple-minded. At the center of this plain society sits your bar, the beating heart of all the people, where conversations were light and bubbled easily with the flow of alcohol and food. Your connection to this hub of activity, being its sole owner, meant that on a near-daily basis you had the privilege of intruding in on these strange people's lives, of which they were more than eager to allow you entry.

Though in the beginning, you tried to keep them all at a safe arms-length, smiling at their jokes only when necessary, they had a way of seeping under your skin. The country life was most infectious and her inhabitants, even more so. They were plain people plagued by simple problems and naively narrow mindsets and it was all so intriguing to you in a sort of enjoyable manner. Their ways of life, views on the world and politics, the way they treated each other, and, of course, their stories. Especially their stories. All this brought out of you a sense of interest, albeit a somewhat back-handed one. The imagination of these people, whether it be for the better or worse, always struck you as so strange and wonderful. The fishermen who strolled into your bar would regale you with the tales of their daily catches and how the ocean had favored them thanks to their abiding of some ancient traditions. The farmers would entertain you with wild gestures of their experiences in the fields, proclaiming with great conviction that they had seen something almost magical in the early rays of the dawn. Such simple things when compared to the true, harsh reality of the machine-driven world beyond your doorstep.

Having known nothing but bitter metal and concrete jungles for the majority of your early life, these seemingly insignificant worries of old entranced you and teased out a seemingly lost sense of childishness. Despite your heavy scrutiny, these people prevail and their stories linger long after your doors shut for the evening.

Your thoughts often drifted back to their many tales, replaying their absurdity like television in your head in times of quiet with gentle bemusement. It was always more preferable to occupy your time with fairytales than to dwell on more intrusive voices. Tonight, however, the usual whimsical wives' tales were instead replaced with ill tidings.

Again the front door pushes inwards as the wind picked up and the glass windows rattled in place. You exhale loudly in a desperate attempt to soothe your racing heart. This bar was old and stable, earning the title of being reliable after many years of resistance to this tortuous climate, and though it whined at the force of nature beckoning down on it, you had to trust that it would not fail you this time. Your night was not going to be ruined by faulty foundations.

You fill your arms with dirty cutlery and take it back to the kitchen to be washed and packed away. While walking you pass the front window, a beautiful piece of stained glass gone yellow in its corners from age, and there you hear the noise again. Your mind immediately flickers back to the prominent story that had not left your consciousness since the first rumblings of the storm.

The caw of a raven.

A large part of you scoffed at yourself and your childish notions for even humoring the idea. It was absolutely, totally, 100% ridiculous. But, you muse to yourself, there was nothing else to listen to and your mind had a tendency to drift away.

You had heard this wild tale about the Winter ravens from a group of old ladies who had visited the bar in your early years of employment. They had occupied a large table in the corner of the room and blew tobacco smoke out their pipes whenever you approached them. Eventually, they eased into your sweet hospitality and offered you some advice, curling their elderly fingers in a motion for you to sit with them. Their ‘advice’, if you could be so generous with the word, was to never feed the ravens who arrived in winter. They foretold of a great danger to those who stupidly talked to these birds and of a stranger who followed them, whose eyes glowed in ominous moonlight and who was nothing like anyone had ever seen before. How vague a description but how fascinating it all was. It captivated you at the time, how entirely peculiar this story was and how it had entrapped the women in its grasp of fear and worry.

It was in their wrinkled, old eyes that you wondered if maybe there was such a person, if perhaps their story was somehow based on true events. But your rational mind was quick to corral your thoughts and you slipped back into unphased independence. It was just a fancy story made up by people who had nothing better to do than to smoke and spread rumors.

Even so, through all the talking down and condescending, the story still held a tight grip over you. And it did not help that over the storm you could hear the very ravens you had been so warned about. The previous winter was bizarrely devoid of these animals, drawing even some backward comments from the more normal of your patrons. It seems that this year, the birds were determined to make amends for their absence.

Over the clattering of glass and metal and the ever bellowing of the storm, you could still hear the birds calling. They scream loudly, their voices seeming to get closer to the front door with every passing utterance as if drawing in on your location. Despite everything, the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a smile. How exciting it would be if such a wild story was true. Imagine the looks on the ladies' faces if you were to tell them you stole a look at their raven stranger or even, heavens forbid, you spoke with them. The bird outside caws again and, against all your better judgment, you stop your washing of the plates and quickly dash for the door. A soapy hand grasps the handle and before you could reason with yourself to stop being so ridiculous and easily persuaded, pulls it open to reveal a world wracked with night and storm.

Immediately, the biting cold of the rain stings your bare face and the wind pulls mercilessly at your clothes. A hand shoots up to cover your eyes and the other grasps the collar of your coat closed, a feeble attempt to remain steady in the torrent. In the darkness of the night, your eyes squint, darting up into the sky to find any sight of your midnight visitors. They sounded so close, as if sitting right on your front porch waiting for you to open and allow them inside. Unsurprisingly the ravens were nowhere to be seen, supposedly their black bodies giving them the advantage of hiding perfectly in the night. Surprisingly, however, when your eye level lowered to the empty street before you, you caught sight of the outline of a figure in the rain.

In the instant, all your whimsical fantasies and daydreams flee your head and are replaced instead with very real concern. That was a person.

“Hey!” Your voice hardly makes a dent over the orchestra of water and thunder and you swallow hard before trying again. “Hey!” You yelled, your free hand coming down from your eyes and cupping your mouth. This seems to have finally grabbed the attention of the troubled figure and they suddenly turn in your direction. The moment your eyes make contact, you barely manage to stifle a shocked gasp. Two reflective disks stare back at you, catching the light of the storm in an almost hypnotizing way - you were sure that had the moon been out, you could have mistaken them for glowing eyes. The story of the raven stranger starts afresh in your head but you quickly shake free of its grasp. Now was not the time to reminisce on fictitious gossip - right now there was a person who needed your help getting out of the storm.

You beckon the figure with urgent hand movements and a hasty side-step, revealing the warm glow of the bar inside as invitation. Your message was clear - please come inside. Luckily, the stranger was willing to follow your orders, reacting before you could even blink, and swiftly making their way towards you in powerful, strong strides. You hold the door open with your shoulder as they approach and it is only when they enter the doorway do you finally get your first good look at the figure.

Your first thought - they were much larger than they had appeared to be while standing in the darkness. Closing the door behind them you try your best to remain aloof and polite, casting your eyes to the floor so as not to stare. With the door closed the bar fell back into subtle stillness and you could finally come to bearing with your panicking mind. You had just invited a most odd-looking stranger into your bar, one who fits to the T the very weird description of an even weirder story and now, you were alone with such a stranger. A part of you, the one who scorned your carelessness, lashed at the back of your mind - this was a most stupid and potentially dangerous folly. But there was no going back now. It would be rude to turn possible patrons away especially in this sort of storm.

“Well,” You remark a little too breathlessly, shaking your wet head and walking behind the front bar. You reach underneath the long table and produce a towel with which you begin to pat dry your hair. “What horrible weather.” You offer the stranger your best winning smile - this would be easy, you try to convince yourself, you know how to deal with all manner of people and though this particular one, clad in heavy hunters gear and animal furs, was a little startling, they were just like anyone else who strolled in through your doors. You force your anxieties to leave your chest as you exhale and prepare to make light conversation.

“What an odd coincidence this all is.” Your voice carried around the bar without much-needed volume, the atmosphere somewhat lightening as you broke the quiet. The stranger remained motionless, their head turning ever so slightly to scan their surroundings. You push on. “I had no idea anyone was even out on such a night as this. Had I not looked out the door at that exact moment, who knows how long you would have been-”

“This is The Drunken Mule, is it not?” The stranger suddenly spoke, ripping the carpet right out from under your feet with how loud and potent their voice was. After a minute of composure, you nod even though they were not looking in your direction. Something about their tone made you narrow your eyes and set your warnings on high alert.

“Yes.” You answer strongly. “A most unfortunate name.” Out of nowhere the stranger rounds on you and steps forward, drawing you into their mesmerizing appearance with their illuminated lenses and towering physique.

“Vhere is the owner, Andante?” There it was again, unmistakable and oh so violent. Carried over their heavy accent and muffling mask, the anger in their voice was most noticeable. At the rising sense of threat, you drop nearly all of your trained mannerisms and you furrow your brow. Your thoughts momentarily flicker to where your gun was stashed and you shudder at the thought of retrieving it. Never have you had a fight occur before in this bar and tonight, you were not looking to make this encounter be your first.

“What business do you have with him?” You ask with professional coolness that only appeared to irk the stranger for their hand twitched and an annoyed scoff could be heard. You had to keep it cool despite their obvious rising temper and though your heart beat around your ribs like a wild rabbit caught in a cage, you knew better than to back down.

“That is of my own.” They shoot back with half-bitten venom.

“I am afraid not.” You replay placidly, swallowing your bubbling fear in favor of remaining in control, “Andante More died last spring. I am the sole inheritor of both his bar and his inn. So whatever business you have with him, you also have with me.” Thankfully, your voice did not betray how shaky your knees had become and you puff your chest out and glare in an effort to portray false courage.

There was a moment of tense quiet, neither one of you moving or speaking, all that could be heard was the constant drumming of rain on the roof. Then suddenly, movement from the stranger, and although you cannot see their face, you can most definitely feel contemplation slowly corrode their malice. This action, along with your revelation, made the stranger hesitate in their defense then deflate in an almost defeat, although it was hardly discernible under all that heavy clothing and armor.

“I ask again,” You pry further, your arms crossing over your chest and your trained eyes never once leaving their daunting outline. “What is your business here?” A moment of silence passes before the stranger manages to speak, their voice devoid of their previous hostility but not of mild irritation - you could tell that they were trying to rein in their heated emotions even if some residue still clung to their words.

“I had an arrangement vith Andante. I have a cabin out in the mountains, he vas to maintain it vhile I vas away. I vas kept busy last year and vas unable to visit until now. It vas not in my knowledge that Andante had passed.” They were certainly quieter now, their voice smoothing out into a relaxed and almost apologetic tone. News of the man's death must have struck a nerve with them and you could feel the room shrink as their fury did. You take in the stranger's words, rolling them over your tongue before deciding how best to answer.

“This is the first I have heard of such an arrangement. Had I known, I would have happily taken up Andante’s duties.” You admit plainly, allowing some sweetness to ooze back into your words and extend out to the stranger in a metaphorical olive branch. You were quick to forgive the grievances of this troubled stranger - a personal fault you had yet to decide was virtuous or not. You would have to wait and see. “Is there a problem with your cabin?” It was obvious what the answer was by the way the stranger had arrived in all their unfriendliness and from basic deduction, but you still asked the question with genuine concern.

“It has been left unchecked. The roof is torn and the rest is in disarray.” They replied after a moment of debate, unsure if they were allowed to speak to you after their appalling entrance. Suddenly the stranger lowers their head in a short bow, a gloved hand touching the brim of their helmet. “Please forgive me and my intrusion vith such reiði. I vill leave now.” In a blink of an eye, the stranger had moved to the front door and already had their hand around the handle.

“W-What? Wait!” You react off instinct, a hand reaching out to follow the retreating figure. It was so abrupt to have this person switch between such potential anger to this somehow polite and embarrassed individual that it took you at least a few seconds to gather your bearings. “Wait.” You say again, a tired laugh passing through your lips as they stretched back to their gentle smile, all your pent-up repentance bleeding away into comfort and ease. “I am afraid that I cannot let you leave. Not after all,” you make a motion with your hand, “This.” The stranger does not turn to face you completely, instead, they hover by the exit, offering you only their ear to listen to what you have to say. If they really wanted to, this person could just push their way into the night and you could do nothing to stop them - it was only courtesy that kept them in place long enough for you to speak.

“You say your cabin has a hole in its roof. And I imagine it would not be very pleasant to sleep in, especially on a night like this.” You step out from behind the bar and stride over to the door, moving close enough that you could start to make out the more fine details of their unusual outfit - a collar of thick fur, many odd pockets and bags covering their chest and hips, and a head hidden behind a most bizarre gas mask and goggles. Something about them strikes you as extremely familiar but you cannot remember ever meeting someone quite like this person before. “As I have said earlier, I own Andante’s Inn which, unsurprisingly, is empty this evening.” You manage to edge yourself into the stranger's field of view, successfully bringing their attention back to your face. You smile encouragingly under their unwavering gaze.

“Did you walk here?” Your curiosity gets the better of you and makes its presence known through the form of impertinent questions. The stranger does not answer, rather they slowly and deliberately tip their helmet downwards in a quiet yes. “Then I really cannot let you leave.” You boast, your arms once more folding proudly around your chest. “Please, I insist you stay the night here where, at least, you will not get wet.” They made no moves, showed no indication that they had even heard your request.

“If not for your sake, then for my own.” You add on, your tone gentle and beset with sincere worry, “I would not be able to sleep tonight knowing that I willingly allowed someone to brave this horrible storm alone.” This roused something in the stranger and after a few silent minutes, they nodded in reluctant agreement. Your smile doubled in size and you clapped your hands softly.

“Wonderful! Thank you so much for agreeing.” You bow your head slightly before darting back to the kitchen to secure the bar for the evening. After grabbing your coat and turning the lights off, you return to the waiting stranger and motion for them to follow. Over your shoulder you throw them a tease, winking in a terribly playful and scripted manner.

“Do not worry. Our boarding rates are quite manageable and I may even throw in a free breakfast.”

As the warm smell of sizzling bacon and fried eggs fills the small kitchen in the early hours of the morning, your mind wanders back to the events of the night before. You can not help but cringe pitifully and wrinkle your nose in disgust.

How idiotic you had behaved, how unnecessarily childish you had been - all with a complete stranger no less! It is the most common knowledge to be wary of strangers, especially ones who appear at night dressed as if ready to go to war. What had compelled you to be so reckless and to willingly invite such a danger into your abode? You had put yourself in jeopardy's way all in the name of some old promise of benevolent kindness. Always help people, Andante drilled into your head. Always. Perhaps your unwise behavior was the result of too many late nights or maybe a far too-convincing patron had indulged you in one too many beers. Whatever the cause was, you cursed it wholly.

Over the crescendoing noise of your own self-degradation, the sound of the kitchen doorway creaking brought your head up and towards the solid figure suddenly occupying its space.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, the spatula you have been using to cook the bacon flying up in a defensive position. It takes you only a heartbeat to relax, laughing airly and banishing your vile self-criticisms to be examined on a later date. “You scared me!” You say to the stranger, waving them over to the small, prepared table with a well-oiled smile. “Please,” You motion to the chair, “I woke up feeling rather generous this morning!” After a moment of consideration, the stranger silently slipped forward and took their place at the opposite end of the breakfast table. You afforded them their stoic silence, deciding rather to lead the conversation yourself than to try drag a word out of them. Clearly, the two of you were both still in equal shock over last night's events.

“I have not had the honor of sharing breakfast with someone in quite a long time so forgive if my culinary skills are,” you turn around and slide two pieces of bacon off the pan and onto toast, “lacking.” You lift your eyes to meet their emotionless mask, an unconscious and unwelcome shiver travelling up your spine as the thought of what lay beneath bites at your curiosity. Something was most certainly familiar about them but what exactly it was still eluded you. “Coffee or tea? Or, better yet, do you even want the bacon?”

“Coffee vill do. No sugar. And bacon is velcomed.” They finally speak and greet your ears with a much admired and amused delight - no longer were their words dipped red with unidentified anger but now, rested and offered food, were decent and alluring. Their accent is on full display to your interest and your keen ears lean in. You feel your painted smile shift more in favor of sincerity as you prepared your guest their meal.

“I must commend your sense of timing.” You push on the conversation much to the gratitude of the stranger who eased at your playful words, as did all your patrons. You were the master of teasing people, talking them up with trained comfort and care until eventually they paid you or offered you something more. You were a most tantalizing host. “It was just last week that I had helped old Carter on the hill rebuild his disheveled cattle shed. See, I have never done such a task before and had provided him with…” You pause, carrying over to the table the stranger's made-up breakfast and drink, “an overabundance of supplies.” The silence from the stranger wordlessly implored you to explain where exactly you were heading with this discussion.

“What I mean to say is, you have a roof with a hole in it. Correct?” They nod, the beads hanging from their odd helmet swaying with the motion. “And I have a heap of unused materials just laying around taking up space.” You plop down in your chair with a small huff, “Do you see where I am going with this?”

“You vish to help me?” They ask without missing a beat, taking up your offer with the grace and judgment of a butcher at a slaughterhouse. You blink in surprised confusion.

“Is that so wrong?”

“I know that service from people is not like air - it is not free. Vhat do you intend to gain from helping me?” Though their apprehension to your rather forward proposal was expected, you still felt a twinge of hurt at their words.

“Nothing at all. What could I ever want from you?” You mockingly place a hand over your wounded heart, an attempt to break the blooming ice in the stranger's concerns. “If anything, you will be doing me a service and getting rid of my supplies. Plus, I might add, you technically have paid me already.” This draws a curious reaction from the raven stranger, their head cocking to one side. You stand quickly and from the counter, grab a piece of crumpled paper.

“For the longest time, ever since I first got my hands on the finance documents of this place, I wondered where the hell these quarterly sums of money were coming from. If perhaps, Gods forbid, Andante was involved in a more shady money-making scheme. But now I know.” You offer the paper to the stranger and they take it with a thick, gloved hand. As they scan over your business's finances, their thumb tracing over a particular underlined article, the very one you had spent all night pondering over. “It's from you, isn’t it? No name, no details. Just money.” You watch them for a reaction, shuffling over to your seat and taking it up once more. “Money you paid Andante to watch over your cabin in the mountains.”

“You are correct.” They answered after a minute, handing back the paper and sealing together the theory you had come up with. You sigh your relief.

“Then it is settled,” You announce, taking your fork and jamming it into your food, “We leave after breakfast.” The stranger waits in strained quiet, an uncomfortable atmosphere ebbing off their totally unreadable appearance. You wonder what could be ticking behind those moonlight lenses of theirs, what kind of person were they really. The same curiosity that compels you to store and maintain the stories of a fantasy people tugged at your chest - this stranger, as unpredictable and bizarre as they are, attracted you more than anything before.

“I eat alone.” They announced suddenly, snapping you violently from your daydream. You shake your head and return to your autopilot hospitality.

“Of course. Down the hall, second door on your left. There is the lounge. It is empty and you are welcome to close the door.” At your orders, they rise from their chair. “Oh and just one more thing.” They pause, training their unblinking mask on your face under which you did not cower. “As crazy as it sounds, I don’t remember asking for your name last night.” The raven stranger tenses at your request, almost as if taken aback by your lack of recognizing them, then lifts a hand to their chest.

“I am Blóth Houndr. You can call me BloodHound.” You tell them your name and they dip their head in acknowledgment. And with that, they collected their food and made their way to the other room.

The sun overhead gave little warmth as you stood in the field, dying blades of long grass coming up and raking across your pants like zombie fingers of the earth. Bloodhound had asked to visit Andante’s grave before departing to the mountains and you were more than willing to oblige. Typically graveyards were somber, cold places, filled with the forlorn memories of people no longer walking. But this place was the furthest thing from that plain description.

Sure, it housed many a sad memory but it certainly was not cold and somber. It occupied the top of a hill, overlooking both the town and neighboring mountains. The air up here was clean and always blew with the faintest hints of lemongrass. In a most unusual way, it was peaceful up here, light and alive as if untouched by time, people, and maybe even death. You hesitate to even call it a graveyard.

In the distance, you could see Bloodhound, their head lowered over the late man’s grave in some unimaginable prayer or curse - you were not sure which they had chosen to say. They were a most weird enigma and you found yourself inclining into them with every passing conversation. People who wore masks obviously had something to hide and you often prided yourself on not being too nosy and digging in on their private business. But with this raven stranger, you could not help but want to know more. No matter how much it pained you to have to admit it. You knew everyone else who lived, worked, or passed through this town but not this one. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger and whip yourself anew. You have to get out more often, have to meet new people, and be reminded of your own insignificance. These old town’s people were incredibly boring and were starting to make you act desperate.

Bloodhound shuffles and you assume their grievances to be over. With a hand full of freshly plucked wildflowers, the last growing of the season, you make your way over to them. Silently, you slip beside them, eyes downcast and focused on Andante’s headpiece. You kiss the tips of your fingers and touch the cold stone - a true sign of admiration.

“I know it is not proper to offer flowers such as these at a grave but,” You bend down and gently place your makeshift bouquet on the dirt floor, “They are so beautiful. And I know he would not have wanted it any other way.” You remain kneeling for longer than you had expected. Suddenly your chest feels tight and something made of iron drops heavy in your stomach. You had never been accompanied to his grave before and apparently being there with someone was enough to draw out of you, long-buried emotion.

“You must forgive him.” You whisper to the open air, your mind slowing and your tongue working off an unpracticed instinct. Your shoulders sag and your knees begin to ache. “Andante was not all there when he died. In his last few days, he could not even remember his own name.” Yellow grass tickles your hands as they follow the engravings of the man's name in stone. “You cannot blame him for forgetting.”

“I do not. I hold no biturð against Andante.'' Bloodhound answered next to you. That weight in your stomach lightens and you find the courage to stand up straight again. “My journey here vas long and left me unfocused. My reiði vas improper and unjustly pointed towards you. I am sorry.”

“Please do not apologize.” You murmur softly, shaking your head in a slow gesture, all the while with your eyes remaining fixed on the grave before you. “We all have our reasons for performing and yours was perfectly adequate.” You finally manage to tear your gaze away from the ground and towards Bloodhound. You are startled to find that they were already looking at you. “You are human under all that, right?” You joke, your signature playfulness sweeping back into control over your actions. Bloodhound curtly nods and you smile, charm gleaming off your eyes. “Then you don’t need to apologize. It is an occupational hazard.”

When Bloodhound had first told you that their cabin was up in the mountains, you had foolishly hoped that it would be a short drive to get to. This whole town was, by all technical reasoning, ‘up in the mountains’ so how much further out could their cabin be? It took you nearly an hour along a treacherous dirt road to finally reach their hidden paradise. By the time you stepped foot out of your dingy old truck, your back was aching and your legs whined to be stretched. The sun was right above your head in a gloriously mild midday. Clearly, your hopes for a short day were quickly going down the drain.

Their cabin was modest, but then again so was everything else here so how much of that was a virtue still hung in the air. You complimented it regardless. The small wooden house blended seamlessly in with the forest scenery, even as the greens turned to yellows and browns, so too did the wonderful dark wood of the house. The trees surrounding the building were tall and ancient which all stretched high above your head, standing tall and unphased by man's will. This was no ordinary house, you said to yourself as you stepped into its shadow, it did not claim itself different from the wild world. Instead, it sat in it all, watching as everything moved untouched around it. You pass a cheeky look at the raven stranger and contemplate if they shared their cabin's sense of independent aura. Bloodhound led you around to the side of their home and even from your viewpoint on the ground you could make out the extent of the damage. After a very minimal inspection, you nod your head, grab the ladder from your truck, and set to work removing the fallen tree branch.

It was a long and tedious job, your hands acquiring many new scraps and splinters and your muscles gaining a sort of stiffness you would regret in the morning. Bloodhound had offered you gloves but you politely declined, you did not wish to ask too much of the stranger and plus, they were doing all the heavy lifting. By the time the sun had started to dip behind the horizon, your work was thankfully nearly complete. With a triumphant and defeated puff, you land ungracefully on the forest floor. Exhaling loudly, you flex your red and sore fingers and watch as your knuckles acquire a purplish tint - it sure was getting colder now. Bloodhound approaches your resting position and sits across from you, a glass of water in their hands. They extend it to you and you gratefully take it.

“Your vork is done here. I vill handle the rest. I thank you again for your rich generosity.” They say, their signature head tilt making an appearance as a sign of unspoken, and unnecessary, gratitude. You scoff and brush them, and their charming words, off with tired bashfulness.

“Please, I had you do most of the hard work.” The water goes down with much praise from your tired body and you relish for a moment in the relaxing quiet of the forest. The air was cold and getting even more so as the sun’s warmth retracted behind trees and clouds. Around you, the world was at a complete silence save for the mere brushing of leaves and the odd call of a bird. You open your eyes at this sound and see before you a raven pretched surprisingly on Bloodhound's extended forearm. It looked at home on their arm and playfully nipped and pulled at the many beads dangling from their unusual helmet. With the back of their forefinger, they gently stoke the black bird's chest feathers, a forgein whisper escaping their masked mouth.

It was a marvelous sight indeed, something you had never seen before and you were certain to never see again, but you found yourself unable to truly relish in the scenery. Your internal confusion must have made its way to your face for Bloodhound cleared their throat.

“Clouds cover your mind. You look troubled. Something the matter?” They asked and you felt embarrassment well-up in your stomach.

“No, of course not!” You dismiss haphazardly, flicking your hand around your face as if trying to shoo away an annoying fly. When it became clear that your flimsy denial did not please the raven stranger, you relented slightly. “Well, it’s just that…” Never had your words betrayed you like this and you inwardly screamed at yourself for being easily moved to speechlessness. “You seem awfully familiar to me. I mean, I know I have never met you but ever since last night I have this nagging feeling that I have seen you somewhere before?” You frown and break eye-line with Bloodhound’s disk-like goggles, shaking your head slightly in befuddlement and apprehension. You were getting too comfortable with this stranger, going so far as to feel safe enough to share such personal and tripe worries with them as if they were more than but a most perfect and dangerous stranger. Bloodhound hums and sends their bird away with a jolting motion of their arm, rocking back onto their hunches and then into a crossed-legged position. They fold their arms firmly across their chest and watch you as you try to fruitless pluck an answer from your frazzled mind.

“Your intuition rewards you. I am the many seasons vinna of the Apex Games. Perhaps you have seen me on the television.” At this you snap your head around to them and stare with wide, unblinking eyes. Suddenly you laugh and run a hand through your damp hair.

“Oh my god, of course! That makes so much sense!” You practically shout, straightening your back and coming to life in a most comedic fashion. “Then that means,” You turn to Bloodhound again this time with awkwardness flickering in your eyes, “You’re like a celebrity.”

Bloodhound shakes their head in disagreement, “You’re flattery is misguided. I am merely a hunter for the Gods.”

“Still that's… wow.” You breathe, defeated by your own stupidity and reaction. This was the furthest thing from the cool persona you had worked so hard to create and maintain - you were speaking freely and from your own ass. Was it such a shock to your system to meet this wild and unfamiliar person that you could no longer remain in your aloof loft? You were crashing down to earth and embarrassment clawed at your corpse to claim it. You send out a silent prayer that maybe Bloodhound would not notice or take offense to your spontaneous giddiness.

“I must admit.” Bloodhound’s voice wafted to your ears as if through a dream. You turn to look at them, offering what little smile you could muster. “I have never had a reaction so adverse like yours before. Most people just cower.” Their teasing comment turns your smile from artificiale to one more earnest. “I did not think the people here vatched such programs.”

“They don’t.” You answer in between breaths of laughter, catching their amused tone and running with it - playing along with them much to the ease of your heart.

“I had my suspicions that you vere not of this place and now it is clear I am correct.” They admit.

“Oh really? What gave it away? Was I too rowdy? Or was my tongue too harsh, as I have been told many times?” Your face beams with reigniting vigor, the last of your energy seeming to only grow as Bloodhound spoke more with you. They shook their head.

“Nei. Your spirit is strong and velcoming even in the face of danger. And your tongue is quick. The people of this planet, however. They are more…” They hesitate, fingers drumming on their bicep as they rake their brain for the correct words to use.

“Old-fashioned?” You offer, leaning over in their direction. They shake their head again, this time rather absent-mindedly. “Suspicious? Sheltered? Inclined to gossip?”

“You speak such harsh words yet I detect no hostility in them.” Bloodhound gazes at you from behind their mask, eyes flickering over your form in search of any hint of malice. Your airy laugh only relaxes your shoulders and brings to life your weathered face. They notice this and observe with meek delight the way your face stretches with a genuine smile. It was wonderful to see, they had to admit.

“I don’t mean any. The people here are wonderful and kind. They gave me a home when no one else did.” Your heart thumps painfully in your chest and you quickly avert your eyes back to the grassy, forest floor. It was so easy to overshare with Bloodhound, whom you had to hotly remind yourself, was a complete stranger to you. You steady your mounting nerves by plucking yellow grass in your hand and crushing the blades in your fingers. “They do have their flaws however and often, that involves making up wild stories.”

Perhaps Bloodhound had sensed your apprehension for instead of questioning your previous comment or casting you away after your needless exposure, they simply continued on with the conversation. You appreciated that.

“I have had many stories made about myself.” They say, almost proud in their odd accomplishment. “Some say that I am half bat. Others that I am fabulously vealthy. None, I assure you, are true.”

“Are you sure?” You snicker, gathering the courage to once more look them in their moonlight lenses. “That bat one sound awfully convincing.” After your comment, the world falls back into blissfully silence. The air between you two feels somewhat lighter and you breathe deeper, taking into your lungs the smell of oak, of cold earth, and of the open wilderness all around. While you know you will kick yourself later for all that you have allowed yourself to get away with, in this moment you are relaxed and content - happy to simply sit and exist.

All too soon the wind blows, dragging its boney talons along your exposed skin and reminding you of the time. You shiver and hurriedly jump to your feet, eyes glancing to the setting sun. “I should get going now.” You turn towards Bloodhound and find that they too are standing, looking up at the sky. They lower their head to you and you hand back their glass. “I must go before it gets too dark. I hope you enjoy your time here now that everything has been set right.” You take a small step backwards, “Goodbye.”

“The Allfather goes with you.” Bloodhound responds, their body bending as they bowed stiffly. You offer them a smile once more before turning and walking your way back to your truck. Suddenly you stop and spin on your heels.

“You are more than welcome to come round to the bar again! Any time! I might even throw in another free breakfast!” Though you could not see it, Bloodhound chuckled at your offer. They did not answer, however, because before they could you had already jumped into your truck and sped off down the dirt road and into town, leaving behind nothing but dust.

#hell yeah baby #apex legends x reader #apex legends fic #apex legends bloodhound #bloodhound #bloodhound x reader #bloth houndr #lol yeah #i had way too much fun writing this #but man am i stupid #please forgive any mistakes #i am literally just vibing bro #also please interact!#uwu

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iaal · 3 years

Note

can i get a hc for the adult trio when they know that there partner love to write some nsfw one shots/ ff...etc about them? excuse my grammar mistakes

Thanks for the ask! Hisoka loves the attention, he approves of us, clownfucker. I imagine Chrollo and Illumi reading smut about Hisoka tho, they would be horrified.

Hisoka:

Heaven’s Arena fighters have fans, and even if it’s niche they do have an active fanfic community and obviously Hisoka has searched the ones about him.

He’d be familiar with your hobby and honestly pretty excited that he’d be on you mind so much that you’d even want to write about him.

Hisoka would be your number one fan – or more accurately, he is his own number one fan – and would read everything you make, giving you feedback and commenting on what he liked (aka how hard it has made him).

His review would mostly be an excuse to dirty talk though, he’s not much of a critic and he’s quite easy to please. If it’s about him and there’s a good dose of smut he’d be pretty happy.

As long as his fanfic self is flattering you would be free to write about whatever you want, including graphic details of your actual bedroom life.

He’s really not one for censoring.

Hisoka lives to please so of course he’s always ready to give you writing material.

You wouldn’t be very prolific when he’s around but he’d be sure to fuel your imagination when he’s not.

Asking you how your writing is going would be his new prelude to sexting of phone sex.

Chrollo:

Never mind the content, Chrollo would love having a writer s/o.

You’d have to change his name and description a bit if you were to share your writing with the world it but he’d be supportive.

Pretty strict with your prose and grammar you’d have to be good for him to not correct your text and totally ignore the smut.

On the bright side you’d have the best beta reader around.

There’s no bigger turn on for Chrollo than words and if the quality of you writing if enough to be immersive for him you’ve hit the jackpot.

For maximum effect, sitting between his legs and reading out loud your last work would be more effective than any flirting.

A gift he’d absolutely adore is a notebook filled with your one shots for when he’s away, even better if you welcome him with new ones every time he comes back.

Even if you wouldn’t know where he is most of the time and couldn’t respond, I really think Chrollo is the type to send letters when he can and that he himself is a very good writer.

You’d receive very passionate mail and, when he has enough time, one shots of his creation.

Illumi:

You can’t tell me there’s no Zoldyck’s fandom in the hxh world.

He’s already a celebrity and even if the details are unknown, as the eldest of the family he has his fair share of fan.

There’s a lot of debate in the community about his appearance, nobody have seen him obviously and the way he is depicted vary greatly depending on who is writing him.

Of course you are the only one who’s spot on but it’s not like you could brag.

Illumi would be okay with your hobby, not really understanding the appeal but not caring enough to look into it.

As long as you don’t divulge too much information if you want to post it that’s it.

Everything you post would go through the butlers first and they will demand changes when needed so you better not be shy about your work.

The main character himself would read it if you asked him to but he still couldn’t grasp why you would spend time doing this.

He’d mostly comment that he wouldn’t do this or react like that when something is out of character but he wouldn’t find it particularly titillating.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hisoka #chrollo #illumi #adultrio #ask #hisoka headcanons #chrollo headcanons #illumi headcanons #adultrio headcanons #hisoka morow #chrollo lucilfer #illumi zoldyck

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

Just Friends - Part 10

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo, model fem reader genre: fluff, smut, slow burn, angst word count: 7k

A/N [More at the end]:

I reviewed and edited Chapters 1 and 2 a bit because I kinda cringed at the errors and my writing was wonky (more than it already is now). No plot changes don't worry.

Thank you for all those who read this, especially to those who took their time to comment and feedback. It meant the world to me who stayed up later than usual and poured my heart out on this.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

You instantly snapped your head up with expanded eyes. Despite the sternness his voice contained, you saw the delicate swirl of complex emotions in his eyes, one that you haven’t seen him display before. You saw how the contrast of heartache and relief graced his features.

“I love you, y.n.”

The quietness gave way for you to hear every single word he said. It was gently uttered, but firm on what it meant.

It was almost magical, if not for the perplexity which came with that statement that enshrouded everything else.

As if the universe agreed with you, another set of lights landed on both of you, popping the enchanted bubble you two were in.

“Let’s go. We need to talk” He moved his hand from your waist to the back of your shoulder and guided you to his car. Still unable to regain your calm from what just happened, you absent-mindedly followed him and went inside the passenger’s seat.

“My place or yours?”

His question made you buck yourself up to the present again. It was the question that started your indecent affairs with Kuroo, and now he’s using it to settle what branched from said affairs.

“Did you really just ask me that?” You were unable to refrain yourself from retorting.

“What?” He asked back even though his eyes had a tender playfulness to them. He clearly knew what you meant but wanted you to elaborate for his entertainment.

You just rolled your eyes and ignored it. “Yours.” You weren’t playing his game. You just rather resolve the issue at hand somewhere not in your place. The last time’s conflict left you feeling vacant when he walked out the door and you stayed there with gloom lingering on every space of your place. You couldn’t do anything because it was your home. You just let it evaporate on its own.

In case things go South like they always do, you wouldn’t want to worsen the state of your already sullied abode.

So you let him start the vehicle and drive off.

“I really thought you were gone again,” he broke the fragile silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I went to your place and they told me you left. I assumed you flew somewhere insanely far away for the second time.” All the involute sentiments he was carrying a while ago dissipated. He’s back to his laid-back self.

“Why would you think that?”

He sneered as his eyes flashed with bitterness even as he stared at the road. “Cause that’s what you do, kitten. You run away when things get too inconvenient for you.”

What could you say to that?

Nothing. He was absolutely right.

You tried to prove to yourself that you weren’t a spoiled rich brat by working your butt off, but it was never too difficult for you. You worked hard, but everything went smoothly like how you wanted them to.

But with Kuroo, everything was in shambles. And in every chance you had to make things right with him, you chicken out. You blamed external factors such as timing not being right or other people were in the way. But you always had your chance. You just despised the fact that you had to cross certain barriers to move forward with your relationship with him. You wanted things easy.

Before you left, you really believed that you wanted to confess to him just to get some clarity on your relationship. So why did you stop talking to him at all? If that was your only goal, you could’ve talked to him the morning after. But you didn’t. Because you didn’t like the pain of facing him again when he was messing around with women other than you. So instead of facing it head on, you ran away.

It was the same when you confessed dead drunk and forgot the next morning. You were scared that he didn’t feel the same way, so you took the safe way out.

And when it was becoming too much again, you were tempted to do the same exact thing you did ago: remove all the complications in your life by getting away from the source of it - Kuroo.

With your mind flooded with realizations, you didn’t notice that you arrived at his place already.

At least that was what you thought because he stopped the engine, but the neighborhood wasn’t familiar to you.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“My place. Duh.” He answered before getting out. It was sarcastic, but it cheered you up. He was back to how he used to treat you before the drunken fiasco. It was just three weeks but it felt like you haven’t heard his taunts far longer than that. That’s how much you missed him.

You followed him and stepped out of his car as well. He must’ve moved out just recently, probably when you weren’t talking much, or else you would’ve known.

“Glad to know you moved out of that dump.” Even with the current situation, you couldn’t just stay quiet when your mind instinctively thought of something to get back to his snarky remark.

“Dump, huh?” He was looking at a certain building that you surmised was where his new apartment was. He scoffed before looking at you.

“Wonder why you agreed to let me fuck you in that dump though.” His grin spread wide enough that his teeth showed, clearly pleased with how he handled your usual battle of sarcasm.

You veered from his playful gaze and pursed your lips from the lack of a good response to bring down that haughty smile of his.

You regret ragging him on. You should’ve just stayed quiet.

“Can we go inside now? It’s cold” You changed the topic being the loser that you were.

“Come on then.” His satisfied smirk was still on his face knowing that he won that quick exchange. He waited for you to go to his side, then started walking towards the building.

When you came back to the country, you thought it was odd that still stayed in his previous place. You were positive that he could afford to get a nicer one. Now it made sense. He was saving up for this.

While heading to his unit, you could tell from the interior and the exterior of the building that the price of the place was above average.

Inside the elevator, there was only you and him. He was about to press his floor number, but his hand stopped mid air before putting it down again.

“Wanna guess what floor I’m in?”

“And if I get it wrong?” He didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know where he was going with it. It was one of your gambling games.

“You owe me nothing but the truth tonight.” Your bets were fun and the stakes were always petty but the weight of his stare let you know that the intent behind it was nothing compared to your previous wagers.

He would demand nothing else but the truth from you when you two start to talk about the issue at hand.

You found it strange. Of course, you would be honest. That’s the point of the conversation you’d be having when you reach his unit.

But since he was acting like candor was of great worth to get from you, you’d ask for something of similar value.

“If I get it right, I’m getting your Nekoma jersey. The one with No.1 on it.”

He was obviously taken aback from what you asked for. “Why that?”

“Why not?” You immediately asked back.

He looked at the numbers on the side of the elevators while he scratched the roof of his teeth with tongue.

“I changed my mind. I want all of them.”

“Huh?!”

“The odds aren’t right. There are 40 floors and the chance of getting it right is only 1/40. If you’d think about it, I’m even being generous.”

He clicked his tongue, acknowledging that your point was valid. “Deal.”

You instantly responded without even thinking twice, “22.”

You wished you could’ve captured his reaction.

“You were already eyeing 22, dumbass. Your hand literally stopped in front of that number.” You shook your head as you snickered from that tiny victory, letting it take some of your tension away. “Say goodbye to your jerseys tonight,” you added.

He usually won’t make such a mistake during your gambles. And because he did, you worked out that he must be distressed too.

“Fuck.” He cursed then pressed the button you just said.

“Ugh fine, you can keep one.” You felt bad cause you even though the probability of you winning was low, the stakes for you were basically a given.

The way on his unit was spent arguing on why the deal should be void because it wasn’t really a gamble since you already knew the answer.

On his doorstep, you both hastenly arrived at a compromise of getting only his captain’s jersey, knowing that the inescapable confrontation is about to take place.

When he opened the door, it was nicer than you expected. It was modern looking with its minimalist interior and gray, black, and white tones. Your place was bigger but this looked more spacious because there weren’t unnecessary furnitures.

The click of the door brought you back to why you were here. All the monkeying around a while ago was just a prelude to this and any impact it had on you was diminishing by the second. Things were about to get serious. You could feel anxiety crawling back to your skin.

You didn’t wait for his hospitality and sat yourself on the couch.

He immediately went after and sat beside you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“What?” A frown creasing his forehead from the ‘no’ that came out of nowhere.

“Don’t sit near me. It makes me uncomfortable.” It might have been rude, but you just had to say it. You want your mind working functionally so you can’t have him anywhere near your personal space.

Instead of getting offended, he eyed you with consideration before standing up. He got a chair from his dining area and sat a good few steps away from you. He crossed his legs and arms.

“So?” He proceeded, imploring you to be the first one to open the conversation that was suspended by the vehicle earlier.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” You laughed sourly. “You’re the one supposed to explain things. Do you expect me to just accept what you said a while ago?”

He threw you a questioning look. “Is it really that hard to believe?” “You avoided me for weeks. When I tried to make up with you, you brushed me off cause you were seeing someone else. So my apologies for being so skeptical,” your last sentence full of uninhibited scorn.

“Who said I was seeing her? She’s just a volleyball player I’m working with.” If this was a normal conversation, he’d definitely have some snide comments to go along with it. But he didn’t swerve to his usual smugness. He remained pensive.

You couldn’t think of a decent reply except for an timid “Oh” that came from your mouth. You’re reassured that it wasn’t like that, but it was overpowered by the shame brought by your incorrect assumption.

He didn’t wait for you to recover as he asked right away, “Why did you ignore me after that?”

But despite the embarrassment, your brain was still running its engine properly. So you skillfully evade his query. “You still haven’t told me why you avoided me prior to that.”

He puffed a heavy breath. “I didn’t know how to get back to that friendship bullshit that you wanted so bad.” He uncrossed his legs and slouched with his elbows on his thighs. “Now answer my question,” he commanded.

“Well.. I didn’t want to intervene with whatever or whoever it is you’re busy with,” you said a bit too quickly without explaining further. “My turn again,” you continued on/

“No. I addressed two things from you so it’s still my turn,” he firmly asserted.

You were about to retaliate but he beat you to it with his own question. “How many times have I made you cry?”

It was an abrupt one that wasn’t in line with the previous questions that preceded it. You flinched from how it hit that certain memory you thought you moved on from.

“Never. What gave you that idea?” You denied as fast as you could. He didn’t have to know that insignificant detail. ‘It doesn’t matter’ you told yourself even though you knew it was your pride that wouldn’t let you answer truthfully.

You’re glad to have won the bet earlier. Even though you thought you were going to be completely honest, there were just some details that need not be known.

Heated stares replaced words as both of you waited until the other withdrew. He was glaring at you, looking for an ounce of deceit. Too bad for him though because you have no intentions of folding.

You arose the winner when he’s the first to concede as he straightened his posture from slouching. He leaned back on the backrest of his chair and sighed exasperatedly.

“Man, I’d like to complain, but I guess your tenacity is one of the reasons why I fell for you.”

You were doing so well but with what he just said, your heart is back to the mess it was when he pulled you to him and said he loves you for the first time.

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” His smug grin back to its former glory, making you even more flustered than you already were.

“How can you say things like that so indifferently?” You voiced out, irritated at how he’s so relaxed while youre all wound up.

“Look. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut ever since you came back. Now that it’s out in the open, I’ll say it as much as I want to.”

Did you hear him correctly? He said ‘since you came back.’ When exactly did he start having feelings for you?

“What do-”

“Hold it right there. You don’t get to ask anything yet since your last answer was a lie.”

You groaned. He shouldn’t be allowed to call you tenacious when he’s even worse than you are when he wants to be. “It is not. So let’s move on,” you tried to proceed but he cut you off right away.

“Kenma told me.”

Your solid defiance rapidly chipped from your secret being found out by the person you wanted to hide it from. You could only guess that Kenma told him just now. That’s why he was on a rampant chase to find you.

The earlier gamble made sense now. He anticipated your refusal to admit what happened back then, back before you left. So he wanted to ensure that you would be forthright about it.

Even after losing the bet, his goal was still secured for he had Kenma’s story as proof.

You tried to feel any hostility towards Kenma but you didn’t have it in your heart to do so. You trusted Kenma. He must have had a good reason for telling Kuroo now when he’d kept it well for more than a year.

“Fine,” you said under your breath.

“Too many that I didn’t bother counting.”

Guilt darkened the diffidence on his face. He must not have expected that you would be the type to cry over a guy, especially him who started his relationship with you only as a bed warmer.

But you went on with your previous question since that’s what was pervading in your mind. “When did you realize?” You were really curious since when the feeling has been mutual between the two of you.

“Realize what?”

“That you l-,” you hesitated, reluctant to fully spat out the phrase completely even though he already said it first hand. Looking back, you don't know how you convinced yourself to admit your feelings to him when you’re stuttering from a trifling thing such as this.

“That I love you?”

You staved off away from his perfervid stare, not able to handle it as you replied a brash “Yeah” to maintain your tough façade.

“At the very same night you were supposed to confess.”

You harshly returned your gaze to him. “Was that a joke?” You chuckled wryly. “In case you forgot, I was there.”

You were grateful to Kenma being there at that moment, but it’s different when it’s finally Kuroo you’re confronting. You could feel all the unaddressed bitterness you buried deep inside take over you.

“I was hoping to get an honest conversation. Instead, I arrived at the godforsaken bar,” you continued with a forced smile, “and stood watch as you made that first move to kiss her, how you pulled her close like …. like you couldn’t get enough.” The particular scene tore you back then and it does just the same now. Before you knew it, warm liquid pooled in the corner of your eyes without any warning.

You turned your head sideway and let your hair cover your face.

You didn’t want him to see how your lips quivered as you fend off a whimper that was already at the back of your tongue

You sealed shut any feelings you had for that certain chapter of your relationship with Kuroo. So you couldn’t understand the surge of sullenness that flowed through you. It must be from how paradoxical his narrative seemed.

How could he claim to love you when he enjoyed the sultry company of another?

If Kuroo would think of two words to describe your personality, it would be determined and composed, to the point that you can seem cold and apathetic at times. You were the kind of person who didn’t give two shits to anything you found unnecessary or irrelevant.

Since he met you, you constantly had your guard up as if people will find something awful if they get a tiny peek of what you really are. He couldn’t do something about that. He didn’t have any right to. You two were only fucking around. He later figured out that you didn’t want people to know who you really were - an heiress and a successful model.

That’s why you traded carefully around people.

But when you came back and asked only for friendship, you still had your fences up like you were hiding something. He thought maybe because you’ve had them up for so long that you didn’t know how to turn it off, even for him whom you considered a friend.

So to see you struggling to keep your walls up that were slowly crumbling, he realized why you have a soft spot for Kenma. He’s already seen what you tried so hard to protect.

Disobeying your earlier instruction to not sit beside you, he stood up from the chair and moved to your side.

When you saw him do so, you didn’t say anything. You only raised your hand to nimbly wipe your tears that were already falling. He grabbed your hand you were using and held it still on your lap. He replaced it with his own, drying your tears with his fingers.

It was the least he could do with being the cause of it, and he was glad you let him even though you still kept your eyes away from him.

He trailed his fingers down your jaw and slightly lifted your face so he could look at you. What he saw was unrefined vulnerability, and even then, you wore it beautifully.

He finally understood. That wall you built when you met again was exclusively for him. You guarded your heart from him. You created the friends only set up so you wouldn’t get hurt again.

It made him feel like shit. You really did love him back then, enough to cause you this pain.

“I’m sorry. I was half-assed about it at the time. Nothing more happened with me and whoever that girl was. I just,” he trailed off knowing that the next thing he’s going to say is gonna sound stupid. “used her to see if what I felt for you was real.”

You raised your gaze to him with eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I know it’s idiotic, okay?” His voice took a slightly defensive tone as you were about to judge his line of thinking back then. “But we were only fuck buddies. I didn’t want to start a relationship with you then realize that I was just confusing the comfort of your company with something as serious as love.”

He stroked your knuckles after he explained.

“I really am sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” His words dripping with remorse from every single tear that you shed for him without him knowing.

“Why tell me only now? It’s been months since I came back.”

“You were insanely driven on being friends only. I didn’t think you feel the same way.”

No one said anything after. He couldn’t tell if you’re aware of it too, but he could feel tension in his every vein as his next question dangled on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you?”

You bit your lip as you averted your eyes downwards again.

“You know the answer to that already.”

Indeed he does. You wouldn’t be this affected if you didn’t. But he has to hear it directly from you. He has to hear you say you love him for real this time.

“I need it to come from you.” He gently held your cheek to guide you back to his gaze. He needs to see the entirety of your face, especially your eyes, when you finally tell him how you truly feel about him.

“I… I-” He could see your strenuous struggle to get the phrase out. You eminently tried as you kept uttering the first syllable but nothing after that. “I can’t say it,” you said defeatedly.

He should be frustrated. He laid out all his cards open for you to see, but you refused to do the same when you had one last face down card that would declare the game over where you both win.

But he held nothing but patience. He could wait for the phrase he’d been longing for as long as he made sure of something.

“You don’t have to if you can’t say it. But I’ll be honest. I,” he let out a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t stand us being friends only anymore.”

He removed his light grasp on your face as his hand travelled to the one that he hasn’t been holding. He lightly squeezed your fingers to get you to heed the attention he needed from you.

“Be my girlfriend, y/n. Be mine.”

If you say no at this point, he’d lose his mind.

With his focus solely on you as he waited for an answer, he saw a subtle nod from you.

“Okay.”

It might seem too simple and bland of an answer. But you two had been going on through ragged stops for a year that he couldn’t care about trivial crap like that.

It wasn’t sweet and he found that perfectly okay. Because it was you. He just needed you to finally let him be more than just fuck buddy, more than a friend.

And when your lips tugged on both corners to form a smile that was directed at him, especially for him, it made his heart soar.

“Is this really happening?”

You had the gall to be skeptical when his actions never hid his affection for you. He just didn’t say it out loud.

“You bet your ass it is.” Instead of his usual shit-eating smile that would’ve accompanied his response, his smile mirrored yours.

You were both happy.

Unable to contain himself, he acted on what always wanted.to without anything holding him back.

He kissed you.

No alcohol and no bullshit involved, just taking in that first touch of your lips as officially your lover.

His hands travel up to your shoulders as he scoots over to have you closer. You taste and feel ethereal. It was unlike any kiss you’ve shared in the past. The ache he had for you this whole time was being lulled by how your soft lips cascaded on his.

His one hand goes up to the base of your neck while he parts your lips so he can have better access on the wonders of your mouth.

You sighed helplessly to the kiss before withdrawing just a bit, your warm breaths still mingling with one another.

“Wait,” you gasped inches away from his lips before burrowing your face on the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, stroking your neck and shoulder to soothe whatever it is that’s bothering you..

“It feels weird.”

“Weird how?”

You lifted your head and looked at him with the most insane blush he’s seen from you. Your cheeks were a rosy fury that highlighted a foreign countenance in your face. Your orbs were glossy and sparkling with a tiny hint of naivety that he’s never seen from you. Your mouth was compressed in a thin line that he could tell was done to prevent the trembling of your lips that was still slightly evident.

He managed to get another unknown aspect of you to surface, and goddamn what a pleasant surprise it was.

He loves your confidence. It was sexy. But bashfulness was an exceptional look on you too. It provided depth to your character which was already fascinating to him to begin with.

He couldn’t wait until he could fully discover everything about you, even the one you still weren’t aware of.

“It’s like I’m overwhelmed by something until I can’t breathe. But I… I like it?” You glowered right after describing it, probably thinking that it sounded asinine.

He was amused and charmed at the same time from how you tried to put into words how he was making you feel.

“You do realize we’ve fucked countless times already.” He couldn’t resist goading further even when he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You don’t say,” you riposted, gaining your smart-assery back to which he laughs at.

“God, I really love you.”

He lunges to claim your lips once more, his need to have more of you back with heightened intensity.

You were getting dizzy from how he was kissing you. It was much more needy than the previous one. You still haven’t fully grasped what just happened and yet he’s already filling your senses, making you forget the tiny insignificant details and retaining only one fact that mattered.

You and him.

His hand on your shoulder wanders down to your waist while you grasp his biceps for support as he pulls you even closer until you were straddling him.

His mouth did not linger too long on yours as it impatiently trailed down your neck, interchanging loving kisses with hungry sucks that stirred your thirst for him.

You remembered some parts of the drunken sex you had, but they were just flashes and blurred images. The sensation from the experience wasn’t retained.

It seemed like a far away memory compared to how he was making you feel at the present moment.

You suddenly feel him slip his hand underneath your shirt, palming your bare skin upwards until it reaches one soft mound which he doesn't hesitate to squeeze.

“Haaaa. Kurooo, wait,” you plead breathlessly. You were getting overwhelmed by how he swiftly fanned the flames of desire that was spreading throughout your body.

His lips left the sensitive skin of your collar and met your gaze with restrained hunger.

“What is it?”

You didn’t know what to say. Did you want him to slow down or just have his way with you already?

He must have noticed your conflict so he decided for you.

He chose the latter.

Both his hands scurried to your hips, guiding you to raise them slightly while his lips find their way to yours again. Not bothering to remove or even tug down your leggings, he slid one hand inside which was welcomed by your slick arousal.

“Why’d you stop me when you’re already this wet?” He asked with pride flickering in his eyes knowing that it was him who caused it.

But he did not let you answer as he shoved one finger in your core.

“Aahh,” your eyes closed shut and your thighs tremble from the sudden pleasure as your hands move to clutch his shoulders to anchor yourself. You rest your forehead on his while puffing heavily.

“Kuroo...” you whimpered.

He steadies you with one hand, but does not relent as he inserts one more digit.

“Hmmm?” You could tell that he was enjoying your wanton surrender just from the way he sounded.

“It feels too much,” you admitted.

“Too much? Oh kitten, we’ve barely even started.”

He took the hem of your shirt and lifted it up. “Bite it,” he commanded and you complied obediently.

He hoists your bra down your chest, exposing your unclad breasts to him. He eagerly takes one perk nipple in his mouth while his one hand goes around your waist. He retacts his fingers inside and rubs the bundle of nerves above your slit in hurried circles that were driving you to the brink of madness.

He was right. This was still foreplay, but you were already so feverish.

Your moans were muffled by how hard you were biting the cotton fabric of your shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to hear you,” his voice raspy as he stopped everything he was doing that was making you feel good. You quickly yanked your shirt off so he could go back to doing them right away.

As soon as your top was thrown away, he inserted the same fingers back again and started pumping in and out aggressively.

With his request and the absence of your shirt, nothing was repressing the salacious sounds that were coming out of your mouth

The heat in the pit of your groin was building up too fast. It was a very steep peak that he was rapidly coercing you to reach.

“Feels-ahh-so good.”

He groaned in response. He took out his digits and loosened his hold of you which made you flutter your eyes open.

“Let’s take this to my bed,” he said ruggedly as he was about to get up.

You firmly grasp his shoulders to stop him. “Wait.”

A dash of timidness came over you again which you couldn’t understand. Just like he said earlier, you’ve had a lot of sex. You did things more scandalous than what you had in mind, but you feel flustered just thinking about saying it out loud.

“What is it?”

“Uhh,” you swallowed your nerves. “Do you mind getting your couch dirty?”

He raised an eyebrow from your question, but was immediately followed by a riveting smile upon realizing what you meant.

“Not all,” he took off his shirt then proceeded to unclasp your bra that was still lugged your breasts.

“We can get it dirty as much as we want,” he whispered right in your ear.

Sex with Kuroo before usually ended with both of you scramming to get water or go to the bathroom to clean up. Then when you went back to his bed, both of you just settled down in whatever position you were comfortable in.

Holding each other after sex just was never on the table. No one talked about it and no one initiated so you figured both of you weren’t into it. You weren’t sure about him but you found the act too intimate to do between casual sexmates.

You had no idea it felt this good to be cradled by him.

Your head was nested on his arm that he extended for you. His other one was enveloped around your waist and your face and hands were burrowed on his chest.

“This is nice,” was an understatement that you breathed on his skin.

“Mmhmm. More especially since you’re awake and sober,” he hummed on your hair.

“Hmm?”

He chuckles lightly as he caresses your hair delicately, his fingers sometimes grazing your nape.

“Yeah, I held you like this the night of my birthday instead of going back.”

You definitely had no memories of that. You knew he took care of you, but you didn’t think he got cozy in bed afterwards.

“I thought awww poor you. You seemed like you could use a cuddle. You did beg me to fuck you after all.”

Typical of him, he had to be an ass and ruin the moment.

But you didn’t believe him. You knew that’s not what happened. You did kiss him first and asked him to stay, but you did not beg. Even if you did forget everything, you still wouldn’t believe him. You’re not the type of person to beg.

“Don’t invent stories just because you wanted to feel me up after sex.”

His chest rumbles within your touch as he worked up a laugh from your snappy comeback. “You’re really something, kitten.”

“You’re gonna keep calling me that, huh?”

He cranes his head back a bit, creating some space between you. You could tell he was peering at you.

“Don’t like it?”

You smile at his question. You found the nickname tacky at first, but it kind of got stuck with you. He’s never called you any other pet names other than that and it made you feel like it was solely for you.

“No, I love it.”

You tilt your head up a bit to look at him.

“I love you.”

You were so apprehensive earlier because of the torment that still lingered from the many failed attempts to tell him so.

You thought you would need more time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case as he easily whisked your worries away just by being with him like this.

You were finally able to tell him sincerely in your own accord. You didn’t realize keeping these feelings all to yourself was so heavy that letting it out was such a liberating experience.

As you free your chest with the restless burden of secretly loving him, you don’t feel empty because your heart was filled with content from knowing that he loves you just the same.

It reflects on his face, more so now that his smile is growing broader by the second which was accompanied by a noticeable flush on his cheeks that was illuminated by the dim light of his night lamp.”

“I love you too, y/n.” His eyes exuding profound adoration for you.

“I had my chance to tell you the morning after I got wasted. I just-”

“Hey,” he cut you off then removed his hand on your waist to cup your neck, his thumb brushing gently the curve of your jaw.

“I have you now. That’s all I care about,” the elated smile still not leaving his face.

“I can see that. You look too freaking happy,” you said as revenge for how he ruined your moment just a while ago.

“Well, sorry I’m not emotionally constipated like you,” he quickly outwitted your attempt to mock him.

“You scumbag,” you hissed despite his blissful smile infecting you.

He pulls you again closer to him until your bodies stripped off of any clothing are perfectly molded against each other.

“Yea yea, say whatever you want but I’m the scumbag you love.” Even when you couldn’t see his face anymore, you could still hear how enraptured he was.

And so were you as you snuggled with him until you fell asleep.

“Sorry, I’ll be a little late, kitten. I need to be here for a while even though the game ended already.”

You could hear him scuffling around with the dwindling sound of excitement in the background.

You’re already late from your planned time, but he was running even later. Not that you were upset. You didn’t have major plans or anything. You just agreed to go to his place together since you’re spending the night there.

“You have my keys, right? You can go ahead.”

“I can go there and wait for you,” you suggested since you still have some energy left from the orderly photoshoot you had this late afternoon. Also, you’d just be restless waiting for him at his apartment.

“You sure?” He asked even though you were sure he’s smiling judging from the way he sounded.

“Yup.”

“Okay then! Have to hang up now though. Love you, kitten,” then he ended the call.

It’s been almost a month now since you two were officially together but he sometimes still catches you off guard with how he expresses his love for you without reservations. But you have no complaints.

Upon arriving in Tokyo Stadium, there were only a few people inside, and some of those few are heading out.

Thank goodness for that. Even if you weren’t feeling tired, you didn’t wanna get squashed by Volleyball enthusiasts. It would also make your bed-headed boyfriend much easier to find.

You don’t want to call him just yet. He’s probably still occupied so you’ll just look for him.

As you paced the area unsurely, you were starting to doubt your decision to look for him on your own. You had no idea stadiums had this kind of structure on the inside since you’ve never gone in one. You thought it was just one big open area with elevated benches.

Instead of going inside the actual playing arena, you went to the narrow halls that branched to the sides of the building.

Just before passing a certain corner, someone emerged from a room that you weren’t aware was actually there.

“Oy Hinata, I’m going ahead if you keep being a slowtard,” a tall, dark-haired man aggressively stated before walking towards your direction.

“Kageyama, you impatient turd!” A bright orange-haired guy, who’s probably called Hinata, came out right after, hurrying to go after the dark haired one who’s most likely Kageyama.

Before he could even pass you by, you lock eyes with Hinata.

A snap of familiarity hits you both.

“Waah. Ms. Pretty!” He said in English, completely and overwhelmingly affable that it was almost adorable.

Oh right, you spoke in English the first time you met.

“Hello.” You smiled politely, still holding up your non-Japanese speaking facade.

Kageyama stopped walking and turned his attention to you. He bowed then looked at Hinata. “You know her?” He asked in Nihongo.

“Not really. But it was kinda funny, Kuroo-san called her ‘kitten’ but she didn’t really know him,” Hinata grinned from amusement only but Kageyama didn’t respond.

Hinata frowned and took a semi defensive stance. “You better not tell Kuroo-san I said that.”

You just alternate your gaze between the two men, deciding whether you should admit that you could actually speak Nihongo and that you’re looking for Kuroo or just let things play out as is.

“What’s the noise all about?”

Another set of recognizable faces turned up - fake blondie, curly, and black and white.

It wasn’t hard to guess why they were there. They were athletes. They weren’t just guests in the event. They were most likely brand ambassadors too, except for Kageyama. It’s the first time you saw the man.

They must be part of the national team. Kuroo did say it was an international match today.

Fake blondie’s face lit up as soon as his eyes landed on your face. He quickly made his way to approach you, passing by Hinata when he did.

“You lost, pretty girl?” It contained everything Hinata’s previous compliment lacked, pure flirtatiousness together with a come-hither smile.

So the Volleyball national team can somehow speak English. Although, they still retained their heavy accents.

You studied fake blondie in front of you and quickly decided that you wouldn’t date him even if you haven’t met Kuroo. The guy’s hot, but he seems like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Someone who you didn’t have to identify by his hair entered the scene, Yaku.

You wave reservedly at him for you still haven’t forgotten how you acted around him the first you met.

“What’re you doing here?” He, then, turned to fake blondie. “Cut it out, Miya-san. I’m certain she’s not interested.”

“She can’t understand Nihongo, Yaku-san.” Black and white appeared to be whispering but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear..

Yaku threw him a confused look. “What? I met her around two months ago. She’s a local, Bokuto.”

The Miya person scowled, “Geez. Could’ve saved me the trouble.”

You just ignored him and shifted your attention to Yaku.

“I’m looking for Tet-” you cleared your throat. He’s been pestering you to call him ‘Tetsu’ every single day until you just succumbed to it and it became normal to you. You almost addressed him as such to these people who you presume he’s working with.

“I’m looking for Kuroo.”

Yaku raised an eyebrow with intrigue twinkling on his whole face. “Oh?”

“Mmmhmm,” you answered obscurely.

“You friends or somethin?” Miya asked with an ounce of wariness, changing your initial thought of him being an idiot.

Yaku grinned. “They’re just friends,” he answered for you, obviously anticipating whether you’d agree or not.

You weren’t ashamed of dating Kuroo, but you’ve had some kind of weird interaction with these people that involved Kuroo, save for Kageyama obviously. Poor guy must be confused at the novelty of what’s happening.

From behind Bokuto and the curly haired guy whose name you still have no idea what, the man you were looking for presented himself and walked towards you.

Those he passed by had their eyes lingering on his back with Miya being the last person to notice him since Miya is the closest to you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he puts a possessive arm around you, “ but this lost lady here is my girlfriend.”

You tried to hold off a smile, but it was futile. You didn’t expect that announcing it to other people was that gratifying after more than a year of consistently telling people otherwise. .

Damn it feels good to be more than just friends with Kuroo.

A/N”

I want to cry. This was my very first fic and my very first series as well. I'm so happy to see it through and finish it.

I'm thinking of an epilogue maybe next year, but for now, I'm marking it as completed.

I love you all.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

taglist (thos in bold and crossed out can’t be tagged)

@lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @arendizzle @phantomneko0 @ysatrap @babythotshq @ameliaxo @miiy @kurooscoochie @lucifers-luv @suikrem

#kuroo smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu series #haikyuu x reader

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thebestsandiever · 3 years

Text

Regarding the chaos and aftermath of the Verstappen crash at the 2021 British GP

Before I begin, this is solely my own thoughts on the crash and aftermath of it, resources and intel being from various news reports, articles, interviews, social media reactions/on track fans reactions, commentators, careers etc. Also important, this post was made around 11 PM CEST, so other news after that or in the midst of this, I haven’t considered.

Comments and discussions are welcome, though remember to keep the tone guys. I rarely comment on anything on Tumblr, but looking at this chaos, I felt like sharing a bit.

Starting on the incident that happened, I don’t believe that I can clearly decide what happened and who caused, and the only comments I have is that I believe it was a racing incident that has no bad intention. We hear in conclusion from sources (there was an after analysis) (e.g. also Lewis’ Sky Sports interview) that both could have given each other space. Lewis trying to get in, and Max defending his position. People who think Lewis did it intentionally clearly have no common sense, no one wants Max to end up going to the hospital (but he is fine so no worries). Of course, nothing excuses that a crash happened, and it’s a big shame.

All the hate Lewis is getting should tone down, I think it’s fair to be critical in perspective of racing which consists of the crash and his comments regarding it, but anything that comments on something other than that with negativity, shouldn’t be.

Something that many F1 fans have brought up and Horner I believe (slightly) is Lewis 15+ years of experience in Formula one and numerous of championships. Which I think in any sport or topic isn’t a fair argument, because mistakes happen to anyone, no one is immune to that, though this is not me calling the crash a mistake, because I don’t believe that is the right word. It’s more Lewis knowing the danger of closing in and Max of course defending himself on track, and this is the end result. And if anyone was a viewer of the Euro 2020 Football Cup Finals, it’s a bit like the Southgate criticism on the penalties.

This also applies to all the fans who bring up Max’ aggressive and old nickname “crashstappen” from his early F1 career. Whether you have your impression from Netflix’ Drive to Survive or the fact that you’re new, anyone will agree that Max has matured greatly both on and off track, in my opinion one of the calmest drivers on the grid considering the amount of criticism, hate and burden that he gets/has. The fact is that there have been some people on Twitter (when I now and later comment on fans and reactions, it’s usually the very chaotic Twitter), that mentions Verstappen’s past, the infamous Baku and this season’s races where Lewis is the one who, in their words, “has backed up and gave space” (the reason I say their words is because I can’t quite remember so I won’t say that I know for sure). But again, as I mentioned, this is not valid, because it doesn’t excuse what happened today. Every track is a title fight, and previous races and tactics doesn’t apply to this. What I mean is that because Lewis gave space previous races, does it mean that Verstappen should crash? Or worded differently, because Max didn’t give space like he has previous times, that “it was coming” or that he should crash? Biggest takeaway from this is that past and future shouldn’t mean more than what happened in the present. This leading me on to a bit of the hate Max got which I think was quite undeserving, especially under his circumstances, which is f1 fans (mostly Twitter) calling it “karma” and using his young past to somehow “justify” the crash.

Also I really disliked the videos of “British fans” (we can’t actually determine that all were British, but it was home track) cheering when the crash happened, but in general I think cheering on a crash will always be awful even if you’re favourite driver gains position. Gladly though, it quickly died down on the stands as they realized it was hard impact. Very Euro 2020 vibes, though a much better English crowd- Just kidding, maybe you can see I’m not happy when any kind of fans act out of order (also I don’t hate English football fans, but sadly, the ones who make stupid actions overshadow the rest).

Now I also want to comment a bit on the drivers and teams’ comments and the PR.

So regarding Max’ social media post about the race. I honestly think it’s fair for him to be upset, no one wants to be taken out on the first lap considering that he is leading while a VERY good and competitive Lewis is trailing behind. My first reaction was that it was quite an aggressive post and the part about him unfollowing Lewis (if that is correct, I haven’t seen it myself yet) was obviously implying that he isn’t happy. Though, emotions run high as well does Lewis’ celebration reaction. I know his mind is to win on track and he has always been outspoken about that fact. Also I don’t quite believe that Max’ comments were full heartedly himself, but the PR team considering he’s just been at the hospital. I’m not happy with his post at all, but I understand both from a PR perspective and a driver’s. I believe almost any driver on the track would have said something like that in an interview if it happened to them. This just happened to be online because of health circumstances.

Regarding Marko and Horner, I must disagree with their aggressiveness or at least the way they decide to comment on it. I do understand the anger, considering the championship but also concern for Max (anyone who knows their relationship knows that they care about him.) Again, I have to say emotions run high and if anything, managers are good at, and this is not specifically only attacking Horner, but it’s stirring up tension. I would say it’s fair for him to say, and quite expected, not saying I think it’s fair for Lewis to receive though (hopefully you get what I mean).

Commenting a bit on Lewis’ Sky Sports F1 interview, we can confirm he didn’t know about Max going to the hospital before celebrating. Anyone who wins has the right to celebrate, especially at home, so props for his win, though unfortunately through a crash (this meaning Verstappen was his biggest threat on track). Though I wasn’t pleased about the commenting on Max. This leads further into the interview.

We get Lewis’ insight on the incident and where he sees Max as the aggressive one, both not giving each other space and having the crash as end result. So in conclusion, Max trying to defend his position and Lewis trying to get in, fair. Please watch the interview, because it clears up a lot of what is spoken about in the media.

My thoughts on Lewis’ response both before and after hearing about Max going to the hospital in the Sky Sports interview, is that he probably could’ve/should’ve toned down on Max being the aggressor, as they were both considering what the crash led to, and him saying that it was just about who was going to give space until it was too late. It kind of goes against what he just said. But I do agree that Lewis has the right to celebrate because he simply won. I also liked that he had championship spirit saying that considering what happened, it didn’t take the shine away from his win. It may sound disrespectful, and I do still kind of think it is, but on the other side, it’s him being competitive, and both drivers have each other’s respect on being able to fight on track. So he’s got the spirit, just maybe not the right interview to show the most competitive spirit (I think the most competitive spirit/response he’s shown this 2021 season)

A bit more on his spirit and fighting on track is seen from Lawrence Barreto who tells us that Lewis has the “game on” spirit and is ready for attacks on track but there needs to be respect on track “and if not this will happen more often I guess.” - Lewis. Just a bit more closure from another source, I like that he is more responsive, but this does make it sound like he blames Max for it. I think any driver who are up against each other have the right or it makes sense to give the majority of the blame to the other, they have their own rear mirrors (see it from their own perspective when they drive, quite literally), but it isn’t the best comment to be honest. Since he says himself, both could’ve given space.

My biggest disagreement that I must mention is the penalty Lewis got, which was the 10 second penalty. Assessing the severity of the crash with high speed, 51G impact, first lap etc. I think the penalty didn’t really serve much of a penalty, but this is also me being critical of the penalty system. These 10 second penalties don’t really make you lose that much of position (depends on car), also this is not a blow at Lewis but just the system. Afterwards, he was also given 2 penalty points. I think compared to someone like Yuki who also got 2 penalty points for crossing the white line twice while entering the pits and George yesterday at the Sprint Race (1 penalty point + 3 place grid penalty) are quite different but looking at the number, there isn’t a big difference in what’s given. But all of this penalty talk is on the stewards and system, so nothing against Lewis and he did take his penalty that was given.

I did not comment much on the actual incident as I have a hard time really deciding (I can admit I see Lewis unintentionally drift a bit in + this being a very fast turn, I believe just a misjudgment but so many fans think it was intentional), so therefore do read and watch the current and coming interviews and articles to get some racing perspective. It keeps updating and even drivers like Riccardo, Leclerc, Alonso etc. have given their comments, and who better to listen to than professionals themselves. So I encourage you to get perspective there, because I know not all of us are the most technical fans, and we tend to comment by being led through a bias and crowd.

But if we’re feeling a bit tired from today, so far the drivers are leaning towards a racing incident. They speak of it as quite unclear to determine, basically saying that both drivers could’ve done and were doing something --> could’ve given space.

We all have to remember this situation is a big deal since it’s the only two to be fair at the moment, who are competing for the championship. Both mad talented and on each other every track. Media blows it out more than them and before we know it, they’re back to what they do best, which is drive.

Heart goes out to Max, it was quite an impact and if not his worst crash so far in his career. His team radio was quite scary to listen to, I’ve never heard him so shook, but he is doing quite fine at the moment, and he will hopefully recover well enough for the next race.

As well for Lewis, emotions are running high and people are quick to assume and accuse without using common sense that Lewis wouldn’t endanger Max or himself. He has every right to celebrate a win and props for him winning.

In conclusion to those who has taken the time to read, don’t let my thoughts be any decider, but more so a way to understand and be a bit more open minded. We are all subjective in the end and I try to see from both perspectives and to be critical as well, not being led by others’ opinions. I’ve stated my sources, and this is only my overall thoughts at the very moment, so remember, as drivers evolve and move on, we do too.

I again encourage you to watch and research with an open mind so not being led on bias, especially if you’re willing to spread anything on the topic. It serves a greater outcome than sprouting from emotions and lack of information, as we have well seen from this sport. Because media does influence and we as an audience is a part of it. So I must remind again, that this is simply my thoughts.

#f1 #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #british gp 2021 #formula 1 #red bull racing #mercedes #verstappen #hamilton #be open minded

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sketchbook-and-tony-adventures · 3 years

Text

THIS IS IT - Part 12: An Unexpected Lesson

In the Lounge, things had mostly calmed down. Colin tensely stared at his phone, awaiting the coveted text. On the monitor, the students were playing a board game.

Red Bird picked up a card and read it. “Your rich uncle died. You’re wracked with grief and have to pay for the funeral, you lose 2,000 pounds, and you must skip a turn. However, you now have received an inheritance of 8,000 pounds. Neat…?”

“We’re out of cards,” Green Guy pointed out.

“Uh, well according to the rules,” Blue Guy started as he picked up the back of the box to read it, “we add up our game money and see who wins, I think? Uh, but we have to subtract business expenses, and mortgage, and debts, and don’t forget to take out taxes.”

“Oh, well, that’s fair I suppose?” Green Guy replied.

“But you get charged more in taxes if you got under a certain amount of money,” Blue Guy clarified.

Red Bird looked up and down at all the play money and little plastic buildings he collected. “What is this game?”

Blue Guy attempted to add up and subtract down his score. “This is… a lot of numbers.”

Suddenly! A computery voice from across the room! “Did someone say numbers?!”

Coby was attempting to get the rest of her leg in the window, where she was forced to enter from.

“Oh god, another one,” Laptop groaned from the nearby desk.

“I can help with- Hold on.” Coby had to stop as she yanked at her leg in.

At the Lounge, a number of teachers who were now huddled around the monitor were either completely shocked or deathly confused. Colin pushed everyone aside, and ran up to get a good view at it.

“And you are…?” the Blue Guy asked Coby.

Coby presented herself. “I’m a computer, of course! It sounds like what you’re having trouble with is math! And if it’s math you’re having trouble with, I think I could be of some help!”

“Actually, we already have a computer,” Green Guy told her as he pointed to Laptop.

Laptop looked judgingly at Coby.

“And what a lovely computer they are!” Coby genuinely complimented. “Would you like to know all the wonderful things you can do with them? Here! Let me show you!”

“Does it have to be a song?” Green Guy sighed.

“LET ME SHOW YOU!” Coby adamantly repeated.

The Significant Educational Art Style Shift activated as Coby began her song!

Colin was absolutely seething. Gilbert was on a table next to him, looking at him with a big ol’ smile.

“You alright there, buddy?” he asked, stifling laughter.

In response, Colin made a lot of horrible AOL dial-up noises.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world!” Gilbert taunted as he giggled.

“I’M SUPPOSED TO BE TEACHING!”

During a break in the song, Coby told the student trio, “Come on, guys! I’ll help you with your numbers problem! Now, blue boy, in your board game, if you have 400 moneys, and 80 in interest, that adds up to 480!”

“Wow!” Blue Guy exclaimed.

“However, according to your rules, you need to take out 30% for taxes! 30% of 480 is 144! Leaving you with 336 moneys! Now! You have 120 moneys in debt to red bird’s business! What in god’s name kind of board game is this? Either way! What’s 336 minus 120?”

Blue Guy picked up Laptop and punched the numbers in. “Uh… 216!”

“PRECISELY!” Coby excitedly told him.

“I only caught half of that, but okay,” Green Guy stated.

“How did this happen?!” Lamp shouted in the Lounge. “She’s supposed to be dead! I saw it happen!”

Just then, May’s face appeared on Colin’s phone, which was in his hand. “Not to worry, everyone! I’ll handle all of this! This is all a huge mistake, yes, but try to calm yourselves.”

“How did Roy make a mistake this big?!” Colin demanded to know.

“Actually, Roy is still not at the controls,” May reminded them.

The lot of teachers gasped, then mass panic ensued and everyone just started screaming.

“Oh God, two of them are going to die and then one of them will make it out here and unplug the whole system!” Lamp shouted.

“I can’t go through this again!” Fridge screamed.

“CALM YOURSELVES!” May bellowed at the top of her metaphorical lungs. This quickly quieted everyone. “The control panel is not unmanned, I’ve gotten Sketchbook and Tony to manage it while Roy’s away.”

“That’s… not comforting,” Gilbert commented.

“Oh, they’re fine,” May reassured. “But I can see they decided to gussy this place up, and since a change like this would require a reset, Coby’s undeleted corpse must’ve been rejuvenated. And being the moron she is, she still thinks we need her and her backwards ways of teaching.”

“So, stop her!” Colin said, frustrated, as if it was the obvious solution.

“You should know very well that once a lesson’s been started, it is detrimental to the students’ sense of immersion to stop it midway through. Possibly more damaging than just a poor lesson. Unfortunately, we’re going to have to let her sing.”

“And then I go on next, right?” Colin eagerly asked.

“Two computer teachers would just be redundant,” May scoffed. “We’ll reschedule you for the 21st, promise.”

Colin screamed a distorted glitchy horrible scream, and threw his phone to the ground, shattering it. There were actual tears in Gilbert’s eyes as he wheezed.

“This is the best day of my life,” Gilbert managed to say in the midst of it all.

May manifested herself as the calendar, since the phone obviously wasn’t going to do anymore. “However, I will check in on Sketchbook and Tony right now, if it will make everyone feel better. I will be making sure no more undesirable teachers make their way back to the world of the living.” May’s face then disappeared from the calendar.

“I don’t know, I kind of like Coby!” Tori smiled as they watched the lesson.

“Quiet, you,” Lamp ordered as he side-eyed Tori.

#sketchbookandtonyadventures #THIS IS IT the final arc

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notebooknebula · 3 years

Video

youtube

Private Money & Self-Storage Investing with Scott Meyers and Jay Conner

https://www.jayconner.com/private-money-self-storage-investing-with-scott-meyers-and-jay-conner/

Scott Meyers shares the world of Self-Storage Investing

Scott and his affiliated companies focus on the acquisition, development, and syndicating of self-storage facilities nationwide. He currently owns and operates over 2,200,000 square feet and over 13,000 units nationwide.

His education organization www.SelfStorageInvesting.com provides courses, tools, life events, and mentoring to help others launch self-storage businesses to enjoy a lifestyle, as his saying goes “free from tenant, toilets & trash!”

His various companies are also very mission-focused and funded the construction of 12 houses in Mexico and the Dominican Republic by taking his staff, partners & other associates on their all-expense-paid short-term mission trips.

Timestamps:

0:01 – Get Ready To Be Plugged Into The Money

1:38 – Jay’s New Book: “Where To Get The Money Now”- https://www.JayConner.com/Book

2:58 – Today’s guest: Scott Meyers

5:44 – How Scott Meyers got started in the real estate business

8:31 – Scott Meyers’ very first storage facility

10:15 – Scott Meyers’ lesson learned on his first storage facility deal

11:04 – What is syndication?

13:29 – Does the storage investing business also offer multiple exit strategies?

17:09 – Get connected with Scott Meyers – https://www.SelfStorageInvesting.com

18:34 – How does the pandemic affect the Self-Storage industry?

22:09 – No business strives unless it’s solving a lot of people’s problems

23:10 – Scott Meyers’ recent projects

25:19 – Best way on starting with Self-Storage Investing business

27:43 – Common mistakes that new self-storage investors make

30:17 – Scott Meyers’ parting comments – “It’s when everybody is running out that you should be, not just running in but understanding what it means to be in the real estate business.”

Private Money Academy Conference:

https://jaysliveevent.com/live/?oprid=&ref=42135

Have you read Jay’s new book: Where to Get The Money Now? It is available FREE (all you pay is the shipping and handling) at https://www.JayConner.com/Book

Free Webinar: http://bit.ly/jaymoneypodcast

Jay Conner is a proven real estate investment leader. Without using his own money or credit, Jay maximizes creative methods to buy and sell properties with profits averaging $64,000 per deal.

What is Real Estate Investing? Live Private Money Academy Conference

https://youtu.be/QyeBbDOF4wo

YouTube Channel

https://www.youtube.com/c/RealEstateInvestingWithJayConner

iTunes:

https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/private-money-academy-real-estate-investing-jay-conner/id1377723034

Listen to our Podcast:

https://realestateinvestingdeals.mypodcastworld.com/11241/private-money-self-storage-investing-with-scott-meyers-and-jay-conner

Private Money & Self-Storage Investing with Scott Meyers and Jay Conner

Jay Conner:

Stir. And you are still struggling to do your first deal because you don’t have the funding and you can’t find the money for your deals, or are you a wholesaler? And you’ve received some assignment fees, but there’s some deals you want to stay in, but you said probably haven’t been able to stay in the deals because you don’t have the money or the funding, or are you a seasoned real estate investor? And you’ve done a ton of deals, but you’re sick and tired of paying high interest rates and you want to be in control of your business and you just want to get some more cheap money really, really fast. Well, if you answered yes to any of those three questions, don’t go anywhere because I’m getting ready to plug you into the money right now.

Well, hello and welcome to another episode of the private money academy podcast. I’m Jay Conner, the private money authority. I’m the host of the show. And I want to welcome you here to the show here on the private money academy podcast. We obviously always talk about private money and getting deals funded, getting money for your deals. But in addition to that, I typically have an amazing guest and expert to join me here on the show. And today is no exception, but before I introduce you to my good friend and expert in this area of self storage, that you’re going to find amazing. I’ve got a free gift for you for just being here on the show. And that is, I just recently released my new book, which is titled where to get the money now, subtitle, how and where to get money for your real estate deals without relying on traditional or hard money lenders.

So here’s the deal folks. I just released this book hit number one on Amazon. And this book was show you. Step-by-step how I went from having no funding from ideals to over $2 million in less than 90 days and how you can get plugged into money as well. We’re not talking about traditional money. We’re not talking about institutional lenders, how to get money very, very fast at super cheap, low interest rates. And I’m glad to send this book to you for free, just cover delivery. You can get the book for free at www dot Jay Conner, J a y C o n n er.com forward slash book. Again, you can get the book, we’ll ship it right out to [email protected] forward slash book. And we’ll get you plugged into the funding for your deals right away. What, as I mentioned, I’ve got an amazing guest and a very, very close personal friend of mine on the show with me today, a little bit about him before I bring him on he and his affiliated companies, they focus in this area on the acquisition, the development and the syndicating of self storage facilities nationwide.

Now, my guests currently owns any operates over check this out 2 million, 200,000, my land’s square feet and over 13,000 units that is gotten nationwide. Well, not only does he do the business, but he also teaches and coaches other real estate investors that want to learn about self storage and how that works. His education company is self storage, investing.com, and it provides courses and tools and live events, coaching, and mentoring to help others launch like you self storage businesses to enjoy the lifestyle. And, you know, as my guest, a good friend is known to say many, many times, get in this business and you’ll be free from tenants free from toilets free from trash. Well, you know, one thing that he and I talk about, and he and I are in a high end mastermind group together, his various companies are also very mission focused. He’s got a heart of gold, he’s got a servant’s heart and he is so far to date. He’s funded the construction of 12 houses, and I’m very, very familiar with this project. 12 houses down in Mexico and the Dominican Republic by taking his staff, his partners, his friends, his business associates on their all expense paid mission trip to do houses for these people. Wow. What a service heart, where that my good friend, Scott Myers, welcome to the podcast.

Scott Meyer:

Hey Jay, it is a good to see you again, my friend, how are you?

Jay Conner:

I am doing fantastic. I know we’ve got a mastermind meeting coming up pretty soon out there in Scottsdale. Are you going to make that one or you don’t know?

Scott Meyer:

I am looking forward to it and I will attend to any, and all of those that will be held in Arizona because now I have a two kiddos that are going to grand canyon university in Phoenix. And so we’re going to be spending a lot of time out in Arizona.

Jay Conner:

Oh, that’s great. Well, Carol joy and I we’ve already got our plane tickets. We’ve got our hotel reservations. So I look forward to seeing you in Scottsdale in just a few short weeks, right around the corner.

Scott Meyer:

Likewise can’t wait. Absolutely.

Jay Conner:

Well, Scott, as I told everybody in the introduction, I mean your expertise, your wheelhouses self storage and self storage facilities, but before we get into that world and your arena, first of all, just tell everybody how you got into real estate.

Scott Meyer:

Yeah. Wow. I think probably like most people out there started with the single family house and I learned from, and many folks on here will this name and a whole lot won’t Carleton sheets, who was one of the grandfathers along with Ron Legrand and some of the others that taught people how to get into real estate. So I followed this program to buy houses, rehab them refund, and some rent them out and then replicate and do that over and over again. So the burn method before it was called the bird method. And so that’s how we got started bought a single family house. This was back in 1993 was the first one that I ever bought. It had an assumable VA mortgage on it, which I don’t think there’s any of those left out there any longer and allowed me to get in and just assume that mortgage with very little experience in the way of even credit history at the time, it was a pretty young guy at the time, as you can tell by my age now and doing the math.

So that’s how it started. And then we moved on to buying up more. We refinanced about two more houses than we need to fix them up refinance and buy more. So we had about 75 in 76 houses and didn’t really have the cashflow and the, the, you know, the freedom that we wanted that Carlton sheets had mentioned in the home study system. So we thought, well, economies of scale will fix this. So we started getting into apartments and buying several complexes around central Indiana, but same thing and just kind of bought us more tenants, toilets, trash headaches, and the business model just wasn’t right for us. We wanted to have time. We wanted the freedom that real estate brings. And so to do that in real estate, that means no tenants, no toilets. So that’s either parking lots or self storage, and you can’t really build a lot of value in, in parking lots.

And then we found, but once I dug into self storage, I realized that, ah, this is, this is a place I need to be. People don’t pay rent. You lock them out and you sell their stuff off and get paid. You turn it around by taking a blower and you blow the unit out with no paint, no carpet, no extensive clean-out or repairs. And once I more, the more I looked into the business, I really saw the light and decided that this is the path I wanted to take. So sold their houses, our apartments, and now we’ve gone just, you know, 100% into self storage made that transition about 2005 to where we are now, today, which is where you mentioned Jay, we, we buy existing facilities. Still. That same model is in place. We also convert industrial buildings, grocery stores, anything that is, can be repurposed into so storage, we’ll buy it and convert it. And then we build from the ground up and we do a lot of this on by partnering and doing joint ventures and then syndicating the private equity, which is where you come in, Jay and you know, all too well, what that looks like and how we can leverage other people’s money and bring them along as limited partners to enjoy in the growth in this incredible business. So I hope that wasn’t longer than what you were looking for, but that’s, that’s my story.

Jay Conner:

No, that was perfect. Well, tell us the story about your very first self storage facility that you got into and, and what lessons did you learn from that first deal?

Scott Meyer:

Yeah, so the F the very first facility that I got into was a, that we were sending out mailers to facility owners, just like we all do in real estate to the asset class that we’re in. And we ran across some business owners and they were getting a business, a divorce. They were partners in a concrete business and things weren’t going so well. And they wanted, they were parting ways. And this facility, they owned together as well. Well, they, as what happens, unfortunately in the worst is the other one, one side wants to hurt the other. And the other one definitely wants to destroy the other one. And so that’s what they were doing. And they were destroying the value of the facility in the meantime. And so what that meant is we were able to get into this a facility for it, was it appraised for $800,000 more than what the selling price was?

And they just had to get out from under the note, because those two had done such a good job of fighting each other, that the bank was about ready to take the facility back. So I partnered, I partnered up with a gentleman. We came in at 50, 50 cash and both on the balance sheet and excuse me, on the loan request and ended up moving forward on this first property, by taking the existing tenants and raising the rates, which they hadn’t been raised in 10 years, we let them manage, well, let me see. We didn’t let her, we freed up her future to pursue other career opportunities and put a kiosk in place because we don’t have to manage these facilities with a person on site. And then we bought the land next door and expanded and built that up and leased that up as well.

So I sold off to my partner eventually. And that leads to, I guess, the second part of your question, Jay, which is what did I learn from this? Well, first of all, I, I understood the power of leveraging and bringing partners in to projects. But I also, the lesson I learned is that I, I really want to be in that manager position. I wanted to have that control rather than 50 50, and it’s not a control issue. It’s just that, you know, once I learned about syndication and moving on to other projects, that I can be the syndicator, the promoter, and the person who is calling the shots, and I can bring in limited partners for sometimes their balance sheets to sign on the loan as well. But mostly for the equity that is, that is required to get into a facility. So that was probably the biggest lesson. And I also learned, sometimes you shouldn’t bring people that are close to you or friends into a business as well. Sometimes it doesn’t always turn out well. Yeah. Yes.

Jay Conner:

I’ve been, I’ve been down that road myself as well. So to make sure everybody understands what you’re talking about, what do you mean by syndication? What’s that look like? And what’s the benefits of it.

Scott Meyer:

Yeah. So in the true sec definition, and I am paraphrasing, anytime you bring two or more people together into a project, and in this instance, a real estate investment where one person is, is active, doing all the heavy lifting, doing all the work, and the other person is bringing money and they’re passive. They don’t have a hand in making decisions or doing any of the project management in a project. Then, then you’ve created a security and then it’s governed by the securities and exchange commission. And so they state that you have to file that, and you have to register with the, depending on the fund or the entity that you set up that has to be registered. So for us, that is a true, so for us, there was one person, as I just mentioned me that I am the promoter. I am the active person on the investment.

Whereas I bring in then a lot of private equity, a lot of limited partners that come into the project. They don’t lend a hand. They’re not involved in the decision making process. And what they’re lending is money into the project. They’re investing into the project with me. And so their role and responsibility is to wire, the funds to close the project. And my responsibility is to do everything else, report back to them, the progress show, the projections and how we are exceeding, hopefully meeting, or if we are underperforming on our projections and then send out to our K ones at the end of the year, because they do become owners of this entity. And they get to participate in the upside as well as in the depreciation as well. So that’s, and I guess a limited sense without getting too far in the weeds, Jay, is, is the definition of a syndication and how we go about approaching the market. Yeah.

Jay Conner:

So, you know, in the world of single family houses, there’s multiple exit strategies. There’s multiple strategies of what someone’s going to do with that property after they invest in it, you know, you can, you can buy a single family house, you can fix it up, you can flip it, you can wholesale houses and, you know, wholesale houses out through other real estate investors. You can buy houses and you can fix them up and you can hold them, you know, for the longterm. So compare self storage to what I just did with single family houses. Are there all these different strategies as to how you can go about the self storage business. And second part of that question is if there are different strategies, how do you decide which one you’re going to do?

Scott Meyer:

Yeah, I’d say property is property. And, you know, in a general sense, and you can do all of the above. You know, we buy them and wholesale them, or sometimes a wholesale without us ever taking ownership or taking deed to the property. You can buy them, you can fix them up, turn around and flip them. You can buy them and turn them around partially, and then sell them off and call it a flip or non you sell them to the next person down the road. That’s going to take it the rest of the way, the way that we do it is typically we’re a longer-term hold three to five years. That gives us time to in an existing facility, really turn it around, raise rates, make the improvements, and reduce the expenses as much as possible to maximize the net operating income and then sell it for maximum dollar, our conversions and development.

You know, those projects take roughly four to five years to either buy a building, say a vacant grocery store and convert it to self storage, and then start from ground zero. And at least it up to 80, 85% occupancy and bring in our limited partners and allow them to have a payday and an exit that is comparable to if they were to invest in any other type of entity, a business over that time, and really focusing on the internal rate of return and the same goes for development. So in terms of an exit strategy, it’s a little more difficult in, in the way that we head into those larger projects with our partners in that we can’t do a 10 31, unless everybody decides to go along with us into the next project, which obviously they’re not going to. So at that point we will sell and that we will take our profits off the table.

And then we will move into the next project for our limited partners. For the most part, they are investing through a retirement vehicle like a self-directed IRA or a solo or a real estate 401k. So they don’t really have those tax consequences at, at, at the exit. We also are looking at in terms of an exit strategy. And I guess to back up a step, you know, Jay, I think you, and hopefully everybody on this call recognizes that you, you should always look at the exit strategy or determine what your exit strategy is before you get into a project. It’s not a good plan to just don’t say, well, there’s a good deal. I’m just going to buy it and figure it out later. You can find yourself, maybe a do not, you know, don’t want her later on down the road, or you sit back and take a look at your empire and you realize what a mess.

I can’t even manage this because I never paid any attention to what I was doing. So every time we hit into a project, you know, we identify if it’s a good deal, are we going to keep it? You know, if we’re going to flip this thing in a year, then we’ve got some, you know, capital short-term capital gains taxes. That’s a consideration. If we own it solely, then we can do a 10 31 into something else on. Do we want to do that three years from now? And I’m saying at any point in time, do we want to do that two or three years from now? Where, what are the interest rates going to be and what our cap rates going to be, and how do we expect the market and the economy? What’s it gonna look like? So we’re, we’re always looking six months a year down the road, five years down the road and anticipating what’s going on with the market, meaning interest rates and our capitalization rates, which is how we value these facilities.

And then overall, does this really fit in our business plan? I suffer like everybody from shiny object itis, and I want to buy them all, you know, if somebody else buys a self-storage facility and develop those one, and I’m going down the road, I was just like, that should have been mine. I should have built that. I should have bought that. And it’s a, it’s a real struggle. But if we get into that, you know, we can paint ourselves into a corner if we get into that situation where we just, you know, every once in a while we have to say no. Yeah, for sure.

Jay Conner:

So just to make sure everybody knows before, anybody’s got to jump off a listing here to the podcast. How can people get in contact with you and your companies, Scott, to learn more about what you do and how you can help them in this area of self storage?

Scott Meyer:

Sure. So we go into self storage, investing.com. That is the mothership, and there’s a links to our other websites that focus on the passive investing side of the business. But self-storage investing.com is really the mothership. And, and this is where we’ve been at this longer than anybody in the business and teaching people the right way to go about investing in self storage. I’m just in hopes that once again, you know, a rising tide raises all ships and so that we want everybody to be as educated as possible to go out into the marketplace before they do this to avoid any mistakes. And then also, you know, that just kind of makes it more difficult for the rest of us, that there are a lot of gunslingers out there that aren’t really doing their due diligence and doing things the right way. So that is our, our main purpose in educating people in the business. Cause it just makes it easier for all of us to conduct business in this incredible niche. Exactly.

Jay Conner:

So if you’re remotely interested folks and connecting them with Scott and his team, that website again is www dot self storage, investing.com, self storage, investing.com. We’re coming out here, hopefully on the other side of COVID and the pandemic and all that stuff. What are you seeing in the self storage industry? I mean, overall nationwide is the industry growing, how has COVID affected self storage?

Scott Meyer:

Yeah. Self storage is on a tear right now. I mean, if you look at the asset classes in real estate, no matter what stat you look at in terms of, you know, which asset class has done well, of course I’m biased, but the stats don’t lie, self storage and industrial are right up at the top. I think data centers may be up there as well. Industrial has done really well with Amazon expanding and, and the supporters of the Amazon and the distribution centers that are now coming down to the smaller market size. And, and as we see, unfortunately, the slow death of retail, the, the industrial side and the industrial sector has benefited greatly and self storage because we are heading into a time where we’re heading into a recession. Again, we also have seen now people come home from work and they had to clear out the dining room, the spare bedroom, the spare of family room, or living room and create a workspace for one of the income earners.

And sometimes too, they also last year during the lockdown, you know, when everybody was sent home from school, the colleges shut down and, and the kids had to put all their stuff into storage again, until they were able to go back. The kids that were in K through 12 came home, and we also had to make room in our homes to do school at home as well. So clearing out more furniture to make all of that happen. And then unfortunately there’s a whole lot of businesses that immediately when, when the lockdown started, it just went under because you know, customers are go figure on the lifeblood of their business. And if they couldn’t do it online, they went under. And so their inventory machinery and furniture, business furniture went into storage. And so, you know, we see this was somewhat of a microcosm of what we see during a recession and self storage really benefits during a recession because businesses downsize and put their things in storage, individuals downsized during a recession, they may have to move in with somebody else, a friend or move back home.

And so their extra stuff goes into storage. And so we, we, we spritz traditionally has always done better. You know, we go up to the right during times people buy more stuff and they store more stuff. That’s the nature of what we do here in this country. And if that’s you on behalf of the industry, I thank you for that mentality in this country. But during a recession, you know, we get the hockey stick effect. And then that’s when banks slow down development slows down of all sorts and then demand for self storage goes up. And so that’s what we saw during the pandemic last year. And 2020 was an absolute banner year for our industry. We have been, we have been contactless and touchless since before it was cool to be contactless and touchless using kiosks to rent a unit, much like a kiosk because self storage, you know, renting a unit is a very low labor intensive transaction that can be done over the internet.

And it can be done by way of a cell phone access to our facility, our software, getting a gate code and even a key fob and access on the phone to access a unit can all be done by way of a smartphone as well. So J we don’t, we don’t celebrate recessions personally, nor my company. We don’t celebrate pandemics for now shakes, but our, our industry, I’m, I’m thankful for the industry that we’re in because we have benefited with a huge wind in our sail, not only during a recession as we’re going to pet into again, but then the pandemic, which kind of accelerated that has really benefited our industry. Well, you know,

Jay Conner:

No business thrives, unless it’s solving a lot of people’s problems. And that’s what, and that’s what you and your company and the industry is doing. I mean, due to the pandemic, you got all this and increased demand for people needing to put their stuff somewhere. And unless your industry comes along and provides a place to put their stuff, then you know, you’re not a, you’re not solving that problem. So it’s what is, so let’s say someone is, and I’ll tell you, it’s the same thing as going on around here. It’s like here in my little area where Carol joy and I live total, total area of only 40,000 people, I know of four brand new self storage facilities that are under construction right now, four of them. And we already got them everywhere. It’s like my lands, people must have a whole, much more stuff. It’s just like, it’s crazy. It’s crazy. How are you? Are you doing new construction these days? Are you still focusing on existing facilities?

Scott Meyer:

Well, a little bit of both, we are, we were really focused on in 2020 on construction. We had some projects already in the pipeline and then also picked up some others from some folks that while we’re just kind of taking the ball the rest the way down the field, some folks that had some stalls due to due to COVID and some funding issues. And so absolutely we’ve been known developing for a number of years. Now, we’ve got the team, we’ve got the experience. We’re in several markets where we know where the demand is, and we just know it’s a business model that we can replicate over and over again, that allows us to look at a market. And, and Jay, if I could, just the reason why we see so many opportunities and why you’re seeing the say, four facilities going up in your town is a lot of folks will think, well, wait, I see these things everywhere.

Isn’t the market saturated. And you know, how can we possibly, you know, have enough demand for this, but, you know, when we go into a market and we’re looking at it in a place that potentially maybe good for developing a self storage facility, there’s a lot of research that goes into that. First of all, our market is really five mile radius. That’s all the further people are going to travel to a self storage facility from their home is about five miles. And so within that five miles, if the facility is the 1, 2, 3, 4 facilities are full, have a waiting list. And the raising rates every three or four months, then we know what equilibrium is in a market. And it’s, you know, anywhere from five and a half to six and a half, you know, five and a half to six and a half square foot per person.

And anytime that we’re below that if there’s only three or four square foot per person, we know that there’s a lot of demand in that market. So that, and rental rates will dictate when we’re going to go in and build. So it’s not a build it and they will come or hope that they will come and just, you know, hope is not a strategy. And we spend millions of dollars on these facilities. And so that is the reason why we’re seeing a lot about construction. And so we absolutely are bullish because of all the factors that I just mentioned that are, that are occurring in the market right now, which is creating a huge surge in demand for storage.

Jay Conner:

If someone is brand new to self storage, and they’re really interested in exploring it and, you know, really want to see if this makes sense for them, what’s the best way for a brand new person to even get started? Where do they start looking?

Scott Meyer:

Well, I think it starts with, with learning so that they know what they are looking for. And so no shameless plug, but we just got a lot of free resources on our website. Again, just to help people, you don’t have to spend a dime on it, just so you know, what you’re looking at and looking for, then begin to seek out if you’re a part of a real estate investor group in your city and there’s people that are in stores and then strike up a conversation. I I’d asked you to ask them to go out to lunch, to pick their brain, but we know that there’s a whole lot of folks that maybe aren’t interested in doing that these days, but if you can strike up a friendship, get into a conversation or even a subgroup, and some of these other real estate investor circles, or online with several meetups around at your area, then that’s the best way to get plugged in and just sit back and be a consumer of the information and to be a student of the industry to know what’s going on.

There’s I was in single family homes for a number of years. I was in commercial real estate being multifamily. And although a lot of that skillset applies and I’m looking at leverage and cap rates and underwriting, it’s a different business. And so to understand the nuances is really key before you take a take that next and first step, and we’ve seen, as you can imagine in our, on the education side of our business, we’ve seen a lot of folks that have taken that first step and they, and they stepped in a lot of do-do and create a lot of mistakes and messes for themselves. And men have come to us to help them unwind it and get out of it or to survive that one, you know, lose the battle, but win the war by understanding what it takes to succeed on the next one.

So, and then temper that with, you know, don’t, don’t analyze too much or, you know, analysis paralysis by analysis and analysis that causes paralysis. You, you, you know, the saying that to spend too much time researching before you do actually pull the trigger. So learn about the business, get some good advisors and mentors around you before, you know, to put some eyeballs on your underwriting and your offers, and obviously the good legal team or, or a, an attorney to look at your contracts before moving forward. Those are probably the best ways to Intuit, to avoid getting into a catastrophe. My

Jay Conner:

Good friend and guest today is Scott Myers, founder of self storage, investing.com. Be sure and check out his website for the free training and resources that he has there. One last question for you, Scott. And that is what are the most common mistakes or some of the most common mistakes that new real estate investors in self storage makes.

Scott Meyer:

Yeah, I’m writing a book on it as we speak, that’s going to be out before long. So I got 101 of them because that’s the title of the book. So I’ll, I’ll focus on how about the overarching one. And that is I think, and perhaps I’m guilty of this, you know, we’ve been teaching and training people how to do this for 16 years. And, you know, we, we, we state that it is a very simple and predictable business model because it’s compared to other businesses. It is, it’s a simpler and predictable business model. You know, we know the numbers, we know the equilibriums and we can go into a, an existing facility or a development project and make our projections and darn near hit our marks and, and beat them almost every time. But so I, I say that I’m, I’m a product of that.

And that is, I think people have heard that enough. And they’ve heard that, you know, this is a simple, less moving parts. You know, you don’t have the rehabs, you know, lock them out. They don’t pay their money and then you just blow it out and you’re done. You move on to the next and all that’s true, but it’s not a hobby. I mean, this is a business and you have to treat it as such and you have to walk the four corners of your business, and you have to understand it before you get in you. As most people know that are in commercial real estate, you make a $10,000 mistake in your underwriting, meaning you miss some expenses by 5,000 and you missed them. You know, they overstated the income for late fees and other things that shouldn’t have been counted. Well, a $10,000 mistake and underwriting is a hundred to $120,000 in value that you would over pay for a facility.

So you need to understand the nuances, how to value them, how to underwrite them before putting offers, in understanding how to analyze the market. And then for gosh sakes, I’m you don’t take your hands off the wheel and assume that this is a mailbox business because no rental businesses, I don’t care who you said listen to, or, or who says it. It’s not, it’s a business and a business needs to be tended. So a long-winded answer to your question, Jay. But the mistake that people make is that they think, and they hear and assume that it is a simple business because it’s simpler than what they were doing before, but it, it means that they have to understand it and they have to tend it. And, and you do have to farm the business once you own it. And constantly be working, looking at ways to grow occupancy, to grow rates and reduce expenses. And that is perpetual, and that is on a regular basis.

Jay Conner:

In other words, folks, don’t start doing this business without joining hips with somebody that knows what they’re doing, right. And of course, Scott Myers is the expert in this arena. Scott final comments and advice.

Scott Meyer:

Final comments change is good to see again, my friend, I can’t wait to, to see each other. I can’t hold that back. And so you always make me smile and I’m looking forward to hopefully getting together and having dinner together as well with you and Carol joy. And maybe we can get that old gray hair gentlemen, to pay our bill next time again, too, that might be nice and fight from that gang. It’s an exciting time to be in a, in real estate. There’s certainly a lot of changes and there’s some potential threats that are out there, but it’s when everybody’s running out that you should be not just running in again and shooting from the hip, but understanding, you know, what it means to be in the real estate asset class and investing the way and where you should be investing. But now it’s absolutely an exciting time to be doing so. So with that, just great to be here. I’m thankful for the industry of the real estate industry and self storage and a happy to help and assist anyone anywhere along the way that we can. And just be kind, just, just choose to be kind how’s that after a long weekend, so far, and it’s only Tuesday, I’ve had some difficult conversations. So how about I leave it with, let’s just choose to be kind to one another.

Jay Conner:

I love it. There you have it. Folks. My good friend and expert in self storage, Scott Meyers, visit him at www dot self storage, investing.com. Well, so glad to have everyone here on the show. I’m Jay Conner, the private money authority wishing you all the best here’s to taking your business to the next level. And we’ll see you right here on the next private money academy podcast.

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