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fatalforesight · 2 months

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i don't think i could stand to be where you don't see me

rhaenyra x alicent, modern day au: the next day. a confrontation, a concert, and a confession. part I here | masterlist here

content: 18+, minors dni. . . stripping in public, reference to smut, alcohol consumption

word count: 4610

Alicent sits in the stillness of the apartment, all alone and pondering. An orange glow hangs heavy over the living room as the sun falls down into slumber. Alicent is dressed, has been dressed. For hours. She’s been sitting here for hours, she realizes, waiting for Rhae’s knock at the door.

The shorts she laid out for her friend are resting on the couch beside her, but they’re not the ones she had worked on into the early hours of the morning. Those shorts are the pair that Alicent herself wears. She had to unstitch almost everything that Rhaenyra had accomplished, on account of her new design. But the R at the beginning had stayed, if only because Alicent felt sentimental seeing it.

Her shorts are not visible, though. Rhae had sent her a text, at around one in the morning, telling Alicent that if they weren’t going to wear underwear under the shorts there was a chance they wouldn’t be allowed into the venue.

What are we meant to do then? Just wear underwear?

wear a skirt on top

You’re sure?

yes

Can we talk?

Rhae hasn’t texted back after that. Alicent cringes, feeling pathetic as she remembers the way she had stared at the backlit phone, willing a response she knew was not coming. In agony, she had thrown herself into finishing the letters on the second pair of shorts, stitching the last Y so tight she had to undo it once she calmed down.

At some point, exhausted, she finally slept and woke up long after the sun had risen. And now she sits, waiting. Unsure at this point if Rhaenyra is really coming or if this was all still some game about punishing Alicent. A punishment for what behavior, she isn’t sure.

In her mind’s eye, sinful images eclipse over one another. Some fantasy, some not. Lips, teeth, the flashes of a camera light. Hands on thighs, going higher. . . higher. . . please. . .

Alicent nervously smooths out the skirt she wears. She wonders what Rhae is planning to wear over her pair. Another skirt? And what exactly are they meant to do with them once they get there? Strip in the bathroom, Alicent supposes. Stuff them in a bag or just leave them there.

This isn’t a behavior she associates with herself. Then again, she isn’t sure any of the past twenty four hours has held any of the decency and honor she normally knows herself for. Alicent feels debauched and a little crazed, unsure and enticed by feelings she knows now she has been shoving down and away from herself.

It’s been years since her father last preached to her from the corner of their living room, detailing all the right and wrong things she could do in life. Her neck is still heavy with the cross he gave her, and sometimes it feels still like he sits right there, against her heart, with the same lectures of brimstone that she remembers him for.

The thought is almost enough to make her tug the beads from her skin, send them flying and reeling like she does inside her own body. Tugged in a million directions. Hating herself from the outside in. Instead, she just picks at her fingers. Rhae usually stops her, makes her wrap bandages on every finger tip so she’ll stop. Sometimes it works. Other times, she just picks at the bandaid instead.

Three knocks at the door. A beat. And then a fourth, rapped lower, near the knob.

Alicent races towards the doors, moving out of stasis and into action, into Rhaenyra. When she opens the door, Rhaenyra is standing tall, with that ever-present smirk she seems to wear. Her fair hair is slicked back, freshly trimmed on the sides while the rest falls behind her neck. She wears a mesh top underneath a screenprint tee of lips in the style of comic printing. A simple red skirt hangs from her hips, and on her feet are tall, buckled boots. The heel puts her several inches over Alicent’s head.

Alicent swallows. “Your shorts are on the couch,” she mumbles. She feels a small bead of blood fall down her finger and onto the floor. “I hope you like them.”

Rhae nods, but doesn’t say anything. She pushes past Alicent into the room and to the couch, picking up and inspecting the shorts. “They look identical to yours,” she notes. Alicent almost tells her, but she can’t make her mouth work. She supposes that’s why she went this route in the first place, after all.

“You’re not, uh,” Alicent stumbles through her words, “wearing the bra, too?”

Rhae shrugs. “You wore it better than me. I figured I’d let you have the moment.”

Alicent frowns, pulling her jacket tighter over herself. “Alright. Well. Throw them on and we can walk then. You can go change in my room.”

“Change?” Rhaenyra asks. Before Alicent can respond, she watches as her friend bends and swipes her feet through the holes and begins sliding the shorts up her legs.

“You’re not– you walked here, uh, w-without underwear on?” Alicent asks, her voice quivering. She wants to die as she feels that tell-tale clench between her legs from yesterday. From many days with Rhae, she is beginning to realize.

“Yeah, I mean, why dirty a pair, right?” Rhae watches her as she brings the shorts up her legs, and she keeps her eyes locked on Alicent as they reach the end of her skirt. Slowly, with great intention, Rhae allows her skirt to bunch at her hands, revealing more and more thigh before it is immediately covered by the shorts again.

Alicent feels herself tremble with anticipation. Rhae’s spine straightens so slowly as finally, finally, the shorts reach the apex of her legs. Time becomes nothing as Alicent’s gaze fixes on the peek of white-blonde hair, the swell of Rhae’s hips, the outline of her mound. And then, in one pull, it’s all gone, hidden beneath the white fabric and the bold proclamation of Rockstars Only. No Alicents allowed.

For a moment, all she can think about is the way those shorts have touched Alicent’s bare skin, and now too they touch Rhaenyra’s. It’s got to be insanity, the way she fixates on that thought, rolls it over and over again in her mind. “Well,” Alicent begins, struggling to compose herself as Rhae eyes her knowingly. “Great. Let’s go.” She tries not to think about the puddle in her own shorts, or the way Rhae must have done that on purpose. Why she did it, Alicent isn’t sure. But she’s beginning to know a tease show when she sees one.

Rhae walks Alicent out of the apartment silently. She waits patiently while Alicent locks the door behind herself. And she’s silent as they walk downstairs, out of the lobby, and begin heading towards the venue. Some bar a few blocks over.

Traffic is slower today than it was when Rhae was with Alicent yesterday. Cars still line the streets, but everything seems drenched in molasses as the sun begins to go down and streetlights turn on. Alicent stays just slightly behind Rhae, watching her more than the street. The way her hair captures light, the way her posture never falters. Not in the way princesses are meant to have great posture, Alicent thinks. In the ways generals do.

But she has gotten too distracted. Without meaning to, or really noticing it’s about to happen, Alicent’s shoulder slams into someone going the opposite direction. The impact hurts, and almost sends her reeling into the street. But strong hands are already clutching her biceps before she can go anywhere. Looking up, Alicent realizes it’s Rhaenyra’s hands.

The man she had slammed into stops, clearly pissed. Alicent feels awful. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaims, reaching out towards him. “Are you alright?”

“Watch where the fuck you’re going–” he starts, but Rhae cuts him off.

“She apologized,” Rhae snaps. “And you’re clearly unhurt, while she almost fell into the street. An apology from you is clearly in order.”

Alicent blushes. “Oh, no, Rhae it’s fine–”

“I’m not going to apologize to some ditz who should have been looking in front of her,” the man argues, agitated.

A noise comes out of Rhae that Alicent has never heard from her friend. Then both of her hands are off of Alicent and on the collar of the man’s shirt. Rhae is slightly taller than him in her boots. “Now is not the time to be a prick,” she tells him, her voice strained. Angry. “Apologize to her.”

For a moment, Alicent is sure the man is going to fight back. But then, with a good glimpse of his face, she realizes he really is intimidated by Rhae. Her friend pushes him back, then steps away so he can look at Alicent.

“Fine, fuck. I’m sorry,” he says, and then rushes down the street, away from Alicent and Rhae.

Alicent’s breathing is heavy. Her arms still tingle where Rhae last touched her, and she’s staring down the street as the man retreats into the city. A warm feeling stirs in her chest. It isn’t unlike things she’s felt around Rhae their whole lives, but now it is more powerful than ever before. It makes her want to fall to her knees, to bring Rhaenyra down with her; it makes her wish Rhaenyra would follow her down.

“Are you alright? That guy was an arse.”

Rhae is speaking to her, but Alicent can’t seem to respond. She can only turn her wide eyes to look at her friend. Her mouth is dropped just slightly open, and all she can think about is how good Rhaenyra looks in the dimming light, how much she wants Rhaenyra to touch her again. Grab her again. Defend her again.

“Ali?” Rhae asks. “We’re going to be late.”

Alicent nods, still unable to speak. Rhae makes a face that Ali can’t place an emotion to. But then Rhaenyra is grabbing her hand and gently tugging her back down the way they were heading. All she can do is follow, tucked close to Rhae as the street gets busier the closer they get to the venue.

She doesn’t even want to go anymore. Not out of the anxiety she felt all day today, worried about what would come when Rhaenyra finally picked her up. But because suddenly, all of the world has faded in color compared to the brightness of Rhae’s hues. No performance could be as impressive as the slope of Rhae’s jaw. No band could play a tune better for Alicent’s ears than Rhae’s voice. No crowd could make Alicent feel seen the way she does when Rhaenyra looks at her. No crowd could make Alicent feel as hidden and small as the way she does when Rhaenyra holds her. Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra. The name echoes through Alicent’s head and replaces every prayer her father could have ever taught her.

“Rhae,” she says, her first words since the accident a block back. “Rhae, I have to tell you something–”

“We’re almost there, can’t it wait?” Rhaenyra has that same frustrated tone she had yesterday. No, no. That’s not what Alicent wants at all.

“It can, but it shouldn’t. I just really need to–”

Rhaenyra tugs Alicent harder than she has been. “If it can wait, then tell me later. We’re almost late.”

Alicent shuts up, but she feels powerless. She’s waited too long. She’s missed her chance.

The bar has a line outside the door. At first, Alicent thinks that’s how they’re going to get inside, but quickly realizes that it is the line for people without tickets. This band is more popular than she realized. Rhae leads them to a bouncer, displays their tickets, and then drags Alicent in behind her. She doesn’t say anything. Whatever moment seemed to have happened between them outside has faded entirely.

Alicent gets an X stamped on her hand when she shows her ID. Rhae has been getting drinks for the both of them for the past few months since she’s a little less than a year older than Alicent. “What do you want?” she asks, her first words once they’re inside the main room of the bar. “Tequila sunrise? You liked that last time.”

Liking it. . . maybe not the most accurate word choice. Alicent got totally fucked from two of those things. “Surprise me with something new,” she says. “Maybe something. . . kind of hard.” Alicent knows now what she needs to do. But she has a feeling extra courage would be beneficial to her cause.

Rhaenyra smirks. “Loosening up for the band, hm?” she questions, but she sounds bitter despite her expression. Angry, always angry.

Alicent lets it roll off her back. It won’t matter for long. Rhaenyra will realize band members are the least of her concerns soon. “I guess you could call it that,” she responds, then heads towards the front of the room to secure a good spot.

She pushes through a few throngs of people, ignoring mean comments and disgruntled sounds as she does. If there is one backbone Alicent has, it finds itself here. Concert culture - when to be a bitch and when not to be - is her forte. People standing in circles and speaking among themselves before the music starts. . . toeing the line, but no one is going to get mad enough to get her kicked out.

Finding herself at the lip of the small stage, she gazes at the setup. They haven’t done much to cater to the band’s look - there are no decorations. The instruments all have decals, but Alicent notes they all seem disjointed, like no one can decide what the look for the band should be. It makes her smirk, somewhat cynically. Boys and their egos. They’ve never much appealed to her.

She feels a presence behind her shoulder, and turns to see Rhae holding two drinks in red solo cups. A straw pokes out of one, and Alicent knows that’s hers. She takes it, and frowns at the turquoise color of the liquid. “What is this?” she asks.

“A blue motherfucker,” Rhae answers, straight-faced.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“What’s in it then?” Alicent smells it, but she can’t really get a whiff of any particular liquor. Just a vague, fruity smell.

“Everything,” Rhae answers, and seemingly refuses to elaborate further. Alicent takes a sip through the straw, and is greeted with. . . a confusing, slightly alcoholic, but mostly tangy mixture. It doesn’t taste like any fruit or flavor in particular, and it burns the back of her tongue.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles, but begins sipping in earnest nonetheless.

Rhaenyra eyes her as she takes a slow sip of her own. “Trying to get wasted? That thing cost me like fifteen bucks, at least try to savor it.”

Alicent almost spits it back out. “How much alcohol is in this, Rhae?”

She just shrugs. “You asked for something hard.”

Alicent opens her mouth to respond, but suddenly the lights dim and there's a tapping on the microphone behind her. She realizes that people have now crowded into the bar, and she and Rhae are trapped at the front. She begins to panic – her jacket and skirt are still on, and there’s no way Alicent can get to the bathroom now without losing her spot.

Yesterday, she may have been very happy about this revelation. No showcasing to anyone, just sitting back and enjoying a crappy band playing crappy songs that they can make fun of as Rhae walks Alicent home. But Rhaenyra seeing Alicent in the shorts she had spent all night embroidering had become somewhat of an unmitigable goal in her mind.

“Rhae, I need to go change,” Alicent speaks into Rhae’s ear. She knows she imagines it, but for a moment it almost seems that a shiver runs down Rhae’s body.

“Just take it off here,” Rhae answers shortly. “No one is going to care. The lead singer is already eyeing you, anyways. I’m sure he’ll like the show.”

Alicent turns to face the stage, and sees that the band has come out. The lead singer is introducing everyone before they play the first song, and his tone is boring and unimpressive. But sure enough, his eyes keep flickering back to where Alicent and Rhaenyra stand, a glimmer of something reflecting in his eyes.

He’s tall, with dark hair and deep eyes. He wears denim skinny jeans, and Alicent feels immensely turned off.

Alicent huffs in frustration as the first song starts up. She takes out the straw of her drink and proceeds to chug the rest of it – an action she regrets instantly, and yet goes through with nonetheless. When she comes up for air, Rhaenyra is gazing at her with surprise.

“You’ve never done that before,” she says, and Alicent realizes she’s already having to yell to be heard over the sound of the music and the crowd. The air is getting hot and stuffy, and a red haze has fallen over the room. As the song progresses, Alicent is only looking at Rhaenyra. And Rhaenyra is only looking at her.

They’re being pushed from all sides by people who wish they had their prime standing room, but couldn’t care less about who they actually are. Rhae reaches forward across the abyss – mere inches – towards Alicent, and takes her cup. “Go on, Alicent,” she goads. “Undress.”

Alicent looks back up at the lead singer. He’s watching her, too, his eyes clearly intrigued. She can’t tell if he can make out what Rhae’s said, or if he can feel it the way Alicent feels it. A precipice. A want.

Looking back to Rhaenyra, she brings her fingers to the zipper of her jacket. Slowly, just as slowly as Rhaenyra had performed before they left, Alicent drags the metal down her front. Her mouth hangs open, but this time she does not feel a stupor over her. She feels in control, all-powerful. She’s holding all the cards, and Rhae doesn’t even know.

As her cleavage comes into view, Rhae’s eyes drop from Alicent’s face down to her chest; the intensity in them brings back that ever-more familiar twinge between Alicent’s legs. She embraces it now, allowing the smallest moan to escape her lips. So quiet, she isn’t sure Rhae could even hear it. But it doesn’t seem to matter. Rhae’s attention is locked onto the zipper now, following it as Alicent’s fingers bring it to the finish, the two parts unlocking with a small snap.

The alcohol begins to hit Alicent, and she feels a calmness and steadiness she only ever feels when she gets tipsy. One day, she ought to try anxiety medication if liquor alone can alleviate the paralysis she so often feels in her life. She begins to shrug the jacket off, her front exposed except for the bra. With newfound confidence, she begins to sway her hips to the music as she rolls her shoulders back, letting the jacket fall away with that same slowness as before.

“Is he watching, Rhae?” she hears herself say, like she’s a totally different person.

Rhae breaks eye contact with Alicent’s breasts to glance at the stage. “You’ve enraptured him, certainly.” Then her cool eyes are back on Alicent’s, maintaining eye contact even as she downs the rest of her own drink. She moves forward, finally closing the gap between them and putting her hands on Alicent’s hips. Rhae matches the rhythm Alicent has set to the music, swaying with her in an evocative way that Alicent has only seen Rhae do with other girls, but never her.

“I wasn’t finished,” Alicent teases, voice low.

“Oh, you’ll finish,” Rhae responds, then twists Alicent so that she faces the band and has Rhae at her back.

“What?” Alicent asks, suddenly dizzy at the contact but caught off guard by this new orientation.

Rhae’s mouth is right atop Ali’s ear, whispering hotly, “Take your skirt off for the nice band boys, Alicent.”

Alicent’s eyes roll back into her head at the purring nature of Rhae’s voice. She can’t even bring herself to care that her friend still sounds so tense, so dissatisfied with her. Think whatever you want about me, Rhae, just keep talking to me like that.

She feels Rhae’s hand at the zipper of her skirt, and the tugging motion that tells her Rhae does not care for a slow pace this time. “Rhaenyra. . .” she mumbles. God, she’s soaked now.

All that she hears back are soft shushes, accompanied by the gentle pressing of lips against her earlobe. Delicate fingers are on her hips again, pushing the skirt down. It falls at her feet, and Alicent feels cool around the tops of her thighs. She opens her eyes to see the singer, still staring, now has a hard-on. But he’s smirking, maybe with some slight disappointment in his eyes. Alicent knows why, and as the alcohol flushes her face, she winks back at him now that she knows he’s in on her plan.

“He seems so happy with your craft, Ali,” Rhae tells her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alicent teases. “I think it could use one more inspection from you, actually.” Kicking the skirt out from under her, she turns back around so her front is facing Rhaenyra. “You sure it’s band-ready?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes take it all in, tracing Alicent’s collarbones, the rise of her breast, the pallor of her stomach, and finally. . . the shorts. Which feature a new phase, stitched without her knowledge.

Rhaenyra Only.

Rhae inhales, her eyes stuck on the cursive letters, reading them over and over.

“Oh, Alicent. My sweet, sheltered Alicent. What am I going to do with you?”

Alicent, still emboldened, steps in Rhae’s space, bringing her arms up to wrap around her neck. Rhae’s hands come to rest at the end of Alicent’s back, teasing her. “You’re going to take me back home,” she answers, standing up on her toes so she can bring her lips to rest on Rhae’s. They don’t kiss, just sit there, touching, as Alicent goes on. “You’ll go back to my room, and you’ll put me in my bed, and you’ll do the things you actually want to do to me. Instead of hiding behind a camera.”

Rhae smiles, and Alicent can feel it against her own lips. It makes her shake, makes her crave things she has never craved. She wants Rhaenyra to take her apart and put her back together again, and make her something she’s never been before.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me, Alicent?” Rhae whispers, her hands coming down to rest on Alicent’s ass.

Alicent says nothing else. She just bites down on Rhae’s bottom lip out of instinct, and she almost crumbles at the groan that leaves her friend’s mouth. Releasing it just as quickly, Alicent kisses just there, where she bit, and starts peppering the same kind of gentle, swift kisses elsewhere. Rhae’s jaw – she’s always, always, wanted to kiss her jaw – her neck, her collarbones.

Rhae’s hands squeeze her ass, and it makes Alicent grind forward into nothing. The muscles beneath her skin are burning, threatening to kill her from the inside until she’s nothing but ash. Then it’s all gone, as Rhae steps away.

“Get your clothes. We’re going home.”

Alicent smiles, feeling glad they’re finally on the same page. She bends over to grab her jacket and skirt, and hears another moan leave Rhaenyra’s mouth at the sight. Glancing upwards, she sees the singer is still looking only at them, now most certainly looking pissed. Alicent waves, knowing she’s only adding fuel to the fire but honestly not giving a fuck. The world has gone bright and colorful, and she feels lighter than air.

Rhae grabs her wrist, and begins dragging Alicent out of the bar. They get weird glances as they pass, probably for Ali’s state of dress and whatever expression Rhae is making as she books it past them in her huge boots. Once they’re out of the doors, Rhae stops and turns, fixing her gaze on Alicent. For a moment, there is only the sound of the city, and their breathing.

“I feel a need to ask if you’re only doing this because you’re drunk, but clearly you stitched those before alcohol got involved.” Alicent realizes, though still intoxicated, that Rhaenyra seems suspicious. Skeptical.

“I stitched them all night, actually,” Alicent answers.

Rhae blushes and averts her gaze. “Is that so?” she asks, but Alicent feels that the question is rhetorical and allows her friend silence as she considers this. “What is it you want from me, Alicent?”

Alicent hesitates. They’re out on the street, for anyone to spectate. And they are a spectacle in their outfits - Alicent knows she must look half-dressed. Like a hooker on a corner. Maybe she doesn’t mind, if Rhaenyra likes the hooker-on-a-corner look.

“I want to kiss you,” Ali whispers, her voice trembling. “And I want to see you everyday, and every night. I want you to touch me the way you touched me yesterday, and sometimes I want you to be mean like that, too. But mostly I think I want you to want to touch me, and I want to touch you, too. . . And I want you to be sweet to me, the way you always have been, while we do so. Am I making any sense?” Her world is swirling somewhat, and she could no longer tell if it was from the alcohol or her vulnerability.

It takes her a moment to recognize the expression on Rhae’s face, but Alicent begins to realize that she is about to cry. A rare sight for Rhaenyra – she holds her emotions close to her chest, always. “Please don’t cry!” Alicent exclaimed. “I can take it all back. You’re my friend first, always. I know I never wanted you as a friend now, but I can make myself want that, if that’s what–”

She doesn’t finish, unable to speak for the lightning that strikes her body when Rhaenyra grabs her face and puts her lips on Alicent’s. This is what she has been missing her entire life, she realizes. The slow, torturous but oh-so-satisfying feeling of Rhae’s lips moving against hers, the way it sets a fire in her and then immediately soothes the burn; it is better than religion could promise paradise to be.

Alicent’s own hands come up to tangle into Rhae’s fine hair, pushing it behind her ears and then pulling her head as close as it will come. The feeling of her nose against Rhaenyra’s cheek, the hot air crawling across her own as Rhae exhales, makes her feel safer than she does in her own bed. “Alicent, you are everything to me that you ever could be,” Rhaenyra whispers. Then she’s pulling them apart, taking Alicent back the way they came.

“I’m taking you home,” Rhae shouts over the sound of traffic and passersby. “Is your mother home by now, do you think?”

Alicent considers. Her mother has been working later hours the past few years, once Alicent could stay home alone safely. It makes her miss the movie nights and cooked dinners from her childhood, but she knows her mother is just trying to provide for them. And right now, she feels it might be a blessing.

“Probably not. She’ll probably be in the office for at least a couple more hours.”

Rhaenyra looks back to Alicent as they keep walking, a warm smirk firm upon her face. “Good. I’d hate for your darling mother to hear what I’m about to do to you.”

part three (finale) coming sometime

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chickenparm · 7 months

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almighty chickenparm are you cooking up any hsr stuff by any chance.....we are starving

i'm so-very-slowly working on an aventurine(x reader ofc) fic, but i don't know when it will be done because big parm has little motivation these days. but here's the first bit of it, go crazy, brother

---

The first time the app is suggested to him between rounds of digital slots on his phone, Aventurine thinks it’s a joke. He can’t help but laugh at the simplistic nature of the advertisement, with simple adornments that clearly lay out what the app is for. Not to mention it’s based in Penacony, and that’s a long ways off from where he’s lounging in Pier Point.

And it doesn’t cross his mind until a few weeks on, when he’s between assignments once more and passing the time with a few rounds of online blackjack. The stakes are low, practically nonexistent, so he lets his mind wander a little after the advertisement shows up again.

What a ridiculous concept, he thinks as his heel taps against the floor and his knee bounces. Professional cuddling - how silly. The only people who would solicit such services would be those who are incredibly lonely and desperate. On the screen, his score changes, showing he has a neat twenty. His thumb hovers over the button as he contemplates the risk of taking it further.

Aventurine’s turn ticks down, and the player to his right at the virtual table hits twenty-one. The jingle of the advertisement echoes faintly in his ears as he loses.

A handful of months trickle by, a few assignments, a few wins, some losses. It’s after one of these narrow wins that he counts his luck and tucks his phone against his ear with his shoulder as he listens to Topaz get dressed down by their superiors.

Topaz dodges his invitation to assist with the Penacony job, a bit more brusque than he was expecting. It’s not like they were friends, but he at least expected her to be a bit more open to it all. Her loss, he thinks as she abruptly hangs up on him and he’s left staring at the wall with his phone falling silent.

Something nags at him - it always has. But up until now, there’s been little point in picking that apart and examining what he’s so quietly caught up on. Unfortunately, as of late, it’s been crawling up his back and whispering in his ear in ways that can’t be ignored further.

Aventurine is well traveled. The IPC sends him far and wide to suit their needs. A backwater planet comes to mind, some place with a low grade and a high debt. The hotel he’d stayed at was the best he could find, built of bricks and covered with ivy that crept close enough to his window that opening it would disturb the vines.

The owner of the hotel had workers trimming back the plant, and he’d overheard him griping to said workers that the ivy was a nuisance and grew back thicker each year, no matter how often it was pruned.

Loneliness is like that, he thinks.

#hsr #aventurine #x reader #aventurine x reader #snippet #wip

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year

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ok listenn idk if you care about john beyond pointing out how biased ppl are against him, but girl!sam universe where she looks exactly like young mary?? would be crazy. we r talking so many complexes at play here. plus yk. blond lucifer primary vessel

blond lucifer primary vessel is so important actually. she's a pretty princess.

anyway! here's an even better reason than in canon for john trying to hide as much supernatural stuff from sam as he can! because he looks at his little girl and she's got mary's blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders and mary's eyes looking up at him like he's got the power to make things better, but she doesn't have mary's smile, no, she smiles like dean does because she never got to see what mary looked like happy, nothing but a single photograph, frozen forever so that sam doesn't know how vibrant mary looked when she was smiling or how she sounded when she laughed. and anyway. he looks at her, and he can't let all that evil in the world touch her. as though, if she knows about it, it'll destroy her the moment she learns.

girl!sam who cuts her hair one day before school and that's the first big fight they ever have, only it's not really a fight at all because sam hasn't hit double digits and she's got awkwardly mismatched bangs and john yells anyway until she clams up trying not to cry. only later can he make himself apologize and trim her hair neater with his own hands, trying not to flinch as he cuts away little echoes of mary.

girl!sam who can't bring a boy home without john (and dean, but john gets scary about it) testing him relentlessly to make sure he isn't a demon. girl!sam who doesn't even make it to prom because dean's sent to sideline her when john catches just a whiff of sulfur on her prom date and spends an evening interrogating and exorcising him. girl!sam who doesn't learn the truth for far longer than in canon because dean picks up the fear from john, that if she learns, they'll lose her, and she's always boiling up inside about how john spent years hiding that there were monsters out there, years she could have spent helping him hunt just like dean was, and he didn't, because he can't see how avenging her mother would be more important than embodying her to sam. that fight? that's a real one. dragging john back to ugly memories of storming out of the house to leave mary furious in the kitchen. dean's even there trying to break up the fight and failing. only this time, it's m- sam. who leaves.

girl!sam who takes off for stanford, and john ends up following her most of the way there, barely restraining himself from knocking her out when she's ducking into a gas station bathroom while hitchhiking and kidnapping her because she won't be safe out there, he can't protect her. (nevermind that sam's as damn good a hunter as dean, but then we already know john letting dean out of his sight was a rarity even when he's a grown man at 26. no way he'd let sam, 17 or 18 and the spitting image of mary now, run off without at least considering that she'd be better off tied up in a safehouse somewhere until she forgets about college.

and when he does let her go... well, he doesn't really remember the rest of that night. his phone shows he left a voicemail. he never listens to see what he sent her. she never brings it up. he can't even be sure she ever heard it.

john who drops by stanford every other month, renews wards around sam's dorm in the middle of the night, places charms in flower pots, researches any professors and other student she gets close to. and a weird mixture of relief and surprise when jessica's who sam starts dating. because who knew, right? (even weirder jealousy, cause though mary's been dead for longer than he knew her alive, she's also right there, and there's a girl who gets to kiss her and love her in a way john's never going to know again.)

....girl!sam who john finds out is still azazel's child in blood. that nothing he did ever kept her from being touched by the supernatural. that he's going to lose her, the same way he lost mary. and he can't pull that trigger. no matter if it'd be for sam's own good. he just can't. he just. can't. (and he tells dean to do it. knowing he won't be able to either. that they'll both die before they let mary go again.)

her in a quiet moment, trying to share grief with john with how she lost jess. and all he can think of is that he couldn't have survived if it was her on the ceiling instead. guilty thinking about an innocent girl who died, but grateful that sam came out of the fire.

(and it always seemed strange to me that john somehow never came across people who knew the campbells as hunters? but say he did. say he did and when he sees sam cutting open a vamps neck or fighting back against meg, he sees a side of mary he never got to know in her.)

(also. going to tentatively edge into uncomfortable territory for me but i think i'm good, but. john who gets off to mary's memory, but years go by, the details fade, and to his horror, his brain starts using things he knows about sam (how she styles her hair, what shampoo she uses, etc) to make the pictures clearer. he doesn't stop, though.)

so, yeah. you know. i have a couple thoughts about girl!sam who looks like mary and how john would react to her.

oh you know what would be so funny. s5 john revival as michael's sword when dean won't say yes, and he gets to that graveyard and it's sam, it's mary, it's the devil, staring back at him. his worst nightmare come true.

#ask #spn #john winchester #sam winchester #tw incest #<- for one bit but also the vibes here are Strange in general so #this was so fun im loving girl!sam thoughts #girl!sam

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happyinjection · 1 year

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♠️♥️High Card Short Story 10 “A Visitor at Sunfields” (3/3)♦️♣️

While the three were having a small talk, something suddenly occurred to Finn, which led to an unexpected development!

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1674621279737901061

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

Our conversation with Bernard-jiichan carried on for a little while. I spoke to Lindsey on the phone once a week, but we did not get to see each other in person often. Moreover, this time jii-chan offered his persective on the stories I’ve told him, so it might sound like something entirely new to Lindsey.

As expected from jii-chan, he took good care of me. I guess that is fitting for a gentleman.

Obviously I could not talk about the X-Playing cards, so I had to cut a large part out of the whole story about my job, but then again there was not much I had to do everyday as a High Card member. So far it’s enough to give Lindsey the gist of my daily routine.

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot about the most important thing.”

I yelled out.

“What is it?”

“Come to think of it, you mentioned that you might be going on a date today, didn’t you? How did it go in the end?”

At my words, Lindsey retreated and blushed.

“Wha……! Finn! W-what are you talking about?”

His eyes darted around helplessly while he was trying to steal a few glances at jii-chan.

“You told me that earlier on the phone, though? You were asked out on a date.”

“N-n-no, not at all. That’s totally wrong. I was just invited for a dinner… I already turned it down anyway.”

He put his hands forward, shaking them lightly.

“Clyde, wasn’t it? Stuff like accidentally touched hands when picking the same book at the bookstore… it sounds right out of a rom-com film!”

“H-hey, watch it. Don’t make fun of the adults.”

“At first glance he seemed to be tough, yet the eyes behind his glasses looked very kind, right?”

“I never said that!”

I pointed straight at Lindsey.

“Come on, take out your phone right away. Now make a call and tell him you want to meet up.”

“Ehh. No way, no way….. I’m unable to go either way because I have to keep an eye on the kids.”

“What do you think I came here for? I’ll babysit for about the next 2-3 hours. I’m definitely free.”

“But….. I’ve already refused him once, so…..”

“In that case just go on the next day. I’ll take my annual leave! Isn’t that right, jii-chan?”

As if pondering about it jii-chan remained silent for a moment, before giving Lindsey a small nod.

“I can’t guarantee that Leo-sama would approve your leave, but personally I will coax him to do so. However if it turns out that he still wouldn’t allow it… then, I hope you don’t mind if I come here myself.”

“H-how could you possibly say that! Bernard-san!”

“I knew it, jii-chan, you’re always a real one. Come on, it is already settled. Let’s make that call. Y’know what, I’ll do it myself.”

I straightened up and just as I was about to swipe Lindsey’s phone from inside his pocket, Lindsey turned his back on me and glared over his shoulder with a look of disapproval on his face.

“I-I got it, alright…..”

“Come on, make that call right here!”

“I’m not calling anyone!”

While saying so Lindsey fled from the room. I cackled out loud, and jii-chan had a faint smile.

In the end, Lindsey eventually went on a date with Clyde. Initially he appeared to be reluctant to go, yet he brushed his hair, trimmed his beard, and put on a suit which seems to be reserved for special occasions. The usual Lindsey is homely and easily forgettable, but he is honestly a handsome guy. Perhaps he used to be quite popular.

Once, I asked him if he was ever going go get married, but he said that he was too occupied with the orphanage to consider marriage. Apparently, he had been separated from his partner then.

However, I remember that at that time, with a smile blooming on his face as he hugged me, Lindsey told me that he was truly happy just to be with us.

That said, Lindsey also had his own life. He deserved a chance to spread his wings a little. If I managed to do well at Pinochle and get a raise, on top of buying the property, I would also be able to hire people. That would make things easier for Lindsey.

——Just like that, 3 hours had passed. Somehow Bernard-jiichan still kept up with me at the orphanage.

But our presence really did gave rise to a big fuss. Afterall, seeing an unusual visitor, moreover one who was willing to play with them, made the children very excited.

The first thing we did was to play chase. The kids had limitless physical stamina, and that aside they took turns playing, so I became reasonably exhausted. On the other hand, perhaps because jii-chan had a great sense of when to use his stamina, although he must have been running as fast as I was, he did not even seem to be out of breath.

Soon after that, a magic show was set up in the cafeteria. Jii-chan made use of handkerchiefs, trump cards, and other stuff which we already had at the orphanage, and tricked them to disappear or change—thus the kids got excited all over again.

The kids did not even spare a glance at me, but they seem happy nevertheless. Finally, as jii-chan said, “won’t we play together again when I visit?” the show came to a close.

At around the same time Lindsey came back home, so I asked, “how was your date?”, and while looking embarrassed he gave me a V-sign using his fingers. It was known for a fact that this guy enjoyed romance novels and films, but when it comes to his personal romantic ventures, I had no clue about what kind of guy he was. I really did not get what a V-sign means, but I guess I’ll ask him on the phone next time.

Then when the night fell, jii-chan and I hopped to our cars and returned to the branch office. The kids waved their hands at us as they usually did, but this time I’m sure they were directed at jii-chan.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL Note: Sorry for the delay! Enjoy!

#high card #highcard #short story #hcss #translation #finn oldman #lindsey betz #bernard symons

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omi-nor · 1 year

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Rules and brief about!

Welcome! This is a rp blog for ygo characters. Probably going to just stick with mostly Yami Bakura right now. But I might add others later.

Here are some general things you should know:

- I am very new to rp still. And still not super familiar with Tumblr. Still a lot of things I don't know or have never done before, so please keep this in mind

- It almost feels like my first time ever encountering ygo.

I've just picked up the manga for the 1st time about three days ago too.

- I am an adult and would prefer characters and muns to be 18+. No nsfw stuff with minors

- I really do try to read and remember everyone's rules, but sometimes I forget my own rules, so please forgive me if I forget something

- On that note, I am pretty forgetful, in general. I try to jot down notes to help with this, but there is a chance I may forget an ic interaction

- Try to give me about a week before giving me a reminder, though.

- I am VEEERY slow a lot of the time. Like, many days, maybe a week, slow. Sometimes more than a week. Not always, but just giving you a heads up.

- I try not to spam notifs or dash, but, it might happen, occasionally. I will always reblog from the source, unless the mun has made it explicitly clear that they actually prefer it be from them or don't care either way or, for some reason, I can't get to the source.

- I am kind of the exact opposite of most people, it seems. I actually would LOVE it if you went on a like spree. And I actually prefer it if you reblogged memes from me (as long as we have spoken at least once). And dash spam almost never bothers me. You can also come into my ims, that doesn't really bother me either.

- I'm not the best at # tagging stuff. I haven't really got a system going yet

- I follow #omi-nor and #ominor, but I don't look at tags very often

- Please don't be afraid to @ me for dash games, lmao. I usually love those. May not always do them, but yeah.

- I am a very heavy cell phone user, but, so far, I don't think I've run into trouble because of this. Trimming is the only big thing I have doubts about still right now.

- Rules could change. I tried my best to give some solid info here, but it could change. I'll probably make a post if there is a change?

(I really hope I'm not forgetting something because I am writing this from memory.)

- I am pretty anxious about stuff. I'm trying not to be, but it's hard.

Like, sometimes I look at a meme and there's a part of me that wants to do it, but there's also a little pang of anxiety a lot of the time. Lol, I dunno, man..

- I may not answer every ask or do everything thing. And I'm trying to get better at sometimes saying no to things. But I don't want people to get discouraged about interacting, either, lol.

I also try not to pressure other people and a lot of stuff coming from me doesn't have a whole lot of expectation attached to it. (Like, if I @ you in a dash game, for example)

- One important thing about communication: I always feel like I'm in a tug of war of trying not to talk too much to people because I'm worried I'm bothering them just a bit and then realizing I may not be talking enough, so I'm basically a stranger to them.

- "Plot something out" kinda scares me a bit, cause all the rp I've ever done - I think - was just off the cuff. Maybe it's not as scary as it sounds and maybe I've technically already plotted without knowing it. But yeah.

- I might need to take 2 or 3 weeks off from time to time. Just giving you a heads up. I'll try to say something.

- Going by Rainy for mun name. It just kinda stuck, lol.

- It's very easy for me to feel a bit overwhelmed. A part of me hates to do this, but I may need to temporarily shut down my ask box and not accept @s or #s for a bit if I feel like I have too much to do. I may need to make a very short ooc post just to let people know?

- I'm going to say, yes, all my memes have no expiration date, though.

- On a similar note, I think it's very possible I will go through your posts and send in stuff from a very long while back, in some cases. I usually assume there is no expiration date for other people's memes, but I usually try to ask first. But if there is, please feel free to ignore.

- I may or may not use icons

- If I see a reply to a thread and I am super tired, I won't read it until I've slept long enough for me to feel better (which could be a long time). I feel like being tired while reading really distorts things, so I like to only read it after I've gotten some sleep.

Honestly, the same is usually true for even ooc conversation. I just don't do well when I'm sleep deprived and sometimes I will just pass out for, like, 12 hours. (I LOVE it when this happens, though. I feel great afterwards.)

***ABOUT YAMI BAKURA***

My Yami Bakura is, right now, based off of anime English dub canon, for the most part. But now that I have the manga, it might slowly start to change a bit. Not sure.

I kinda wanted to try Ryo, but I haven't found Ryo in the English dub to be very inspiring, so far. A lot of his screen time was him just kinda flatly explaining the duels. Poor Ryo. You see glimpses of an actual character, at times, but it's rough, man.

I was debating keeping Ryo or not, but just to avoid confusion, I'm gonna wait to see what the manga has to offer.

Can I lastly just say? I really like the ygo rpc so far.

#rules

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authorautumnbanks · 8 months

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Accidentally Dating (5)

Summary: A series of accidental dates and meetings between Kagome and Satoru over the years.

Pairing: KagomexGojo

Series Master list

Satoru spits out the blood filling in his mouth.

"You're doing better," his father says, crossing his arms. "But your form still needs work." His white hair is much longer now, past his shoulders and down his back.

Personally, Satoru likes to keep his hair short, and not just because Kagome trims his and Sota's hair.

"Tch." Satoru wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then charges at his father. They go back and forth, exchanging blows. For every hit Satoru lands on his father, the old man lands three more.

It's frustrating.

He wants to turn on infinity, but his father's words come back to him. "Don't rely on infinity when there are ways to get around it. You need to be prepared for every situation."

"Not bad for an old geezer," he jabs.

His father narrows his much paler blue eyes and punches him in the nose.

Ow!

Satoru glares. His phone rings and he's almost tempted to throw the phone, but the ringtone catches him off guard. What the hell could Sota want?

"Hold on," he says to his father, fishing his phone out. "What is it?"

"Big—big brother!" Sota wails on the other line.

His bones chill. Blood trickles from his nose. "What happened?" He wipes at the blood.

"Ka-Kagome is gone!"

"What do you mean, gone?" He turns away with his back to his father. His fingers grip the phone tighter. His head is light. This pit in his stomach may as well be filled with rocks.

What does he mean she is gone? Kagome doesn't just disappear. He just texted her before he started sparring with the old man. She isn't gone.

"She went in the well house because Buyo was in there. I—I don't know how he got in there. But when she picked him up. This thing. A woman. She had four arms. It grabbed Kagome and pulled her down the well."

"Pulled her down the well?" Satoru grits his teeth. "Was there a hole?"

"No. It's like she vanished... there was a blue light. But she's just gone!"

"Don't move. I'll be right there." Satoru ends the call and looks up at the sky. He needs to calm down. Needs to calm down right now. Nothing good will come of him being too wrecked with anxiety to think clearly.

"Let's go," his father says, walking past.

"You don't have to go," Satoru says, still looking up at the clouds for guidance. And no one invited the old man, anyway.

"Himari will be worried," is all his father says.

"At least close your top," Satoru mutters. "No one wants to see that."

"Himari doesn't seem to mind."

Satoru shoots his dad a withering glare, but his father must have his own version of infinity because Satoru's glare bounces off the older Gojo.

"There is no reason for you two to even converse."

"You call her mom," his dad points out, instructing the driver to head to the Higurashi shrine.

Satoru resists shaking his leg. He could probably run and get there faster. "Because Kagome is my wife."

"Right. Right. Of course," his father replies. "Which makes her my daughter-in-law, which means I have a reason to talk to your mother."

Satoru closes his eyes. He might kill his dad before they make it there.

The drive takes far too long. Satoru rushes out of the car before it comes to a stop. He runs up the steps.

Sota stands there, holding Buyo, who somehow got fatter since the last time he saw him, and cries.

"Knock that off," he says, lips down-turned. "Chin up."

Sota sniffles and tilts his chin up. "I'm not crying."

"Where's your mother?" His father asks, though the geezer is already heading towards the house and his top is still parted.

"Not home yet, but she'll be here soon." Sota hugs Buyo closer to him. "I can reenact what happened."

Satoru walks over and ruffles Sota's hair. "Show me. And stop cryin." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and listens as Sota details every single move he made when he found Buyo missing. "Did you leave the door open?"

"No. Usually the well house is locked up since we don't have any reason to go in there." Sota sets Buyo down and slides the door. "Buyo was down there by the edge of the well. I stayed right here while Sis went down to get Buyo."

Satoru runs his tongue along his upper teeth. There is magic here. He can feel the remanence of it. He walks down the steps and grips the edge of the well. There's nothing. No hole. Nothing.

"And she went down here?"

"A thing pulled her down." Sota sniffs. "Her back was turned to the well, but by the time the words got out, it was already pulling her down... and she was just gone."

Satoru grits his teeth. Bring her back, he wills the well, but nothing happens. He walks around the well, gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

Bring her back, he wills again

Nothing.

This damn well is fucking with him.

He stops pacing and leaps into the well. It's solid. He runs his hands on the stone.

"Bring her back," he growls out, clenching his fists. His shoulders tense. The anger swells within him, filling his mouth with blood.

Shit.

He swallows the blood down.

And yet, the well remains closed to him. It gives him no answers. It can't even muster up a morsel of magic for him.

"Big brother?"

Satoru snaps his head up. "I'm fine," he spits out. "I can't activate whatever this is." He jumps out of the well and looks back at it.

"Sounds like Gramps and Mama are home now," Sota says, jutting his chin out. Satoru walks up the stairs, and grabs his head, pulling him close and messing with his hair.

"C'mon." Satoru steels his expression as he walks into the house. He slides his shoes off and heads to the kitchen where his father and Kagome's mom are chatting. Seriously, why is he here? He didn't even come out to look at the well. "Mom," Satoru calls, pulling her attention away from his dad.

"What's wrong?" she asks, directing her attention to him. "Where is Kagome? You two are normally joined at the hip."

Satoru keeps his face blank. He doesn't want to alarm her. He doesn't trust himself either. The door opens and closes behind them and Gramps walks in with a bag in hand.

"Why is everyone looking so gloom," Gramps remarks, setting a bag down on the table.

His father reaches over and takes Mom's hand. Satoru presses his lips together. He really, really doesn't care for their relationship.

"Something took Kagome," he says, answering for Sota. "There's something weird going on with the well and I can't figure it out."

"What?" Mom exclaims. His father lets go of her hand and wraps an arm around her. "What do you mean, took?"

"Something with four arms grabbed her and took her down the well," Sota says.

Gramps sighs. "The seal must have weakened."

"The what?"

"Seal. You remember that light when she was born?"

Mom nods her head. "Yes, it was a pink light. That's why we named her Kagome."

"Mhmm. She was born with great power. I sealed what I could. Despite that, some of it always leaked out." Gramps crosses his arms. "The well is made from the wood of the tree of ages."

"What the hell does that mean?" Satoru says, ignoring Mom's gasp at his language.

"It means time travel. Maybe. I know I told you all of this before about demons and the Shikon jewel." Gramps rolls his eyes. "We are not a family of sorcerers, you know."

"This information does not leave this table," his father speaks up. "Not unless you want... your wife in danger."

"Obviously," he retorts. "So, the seal broke. That doesn't bring Kagome back."

"I'll look through my books, but we may just have to wait." Gramps shrugs and the old man is far too relaxed about this. "Relax. My granddaughter is a fighter. She'll be back."

Satoru stretches out his legs and leans back against the wall. The well house is dark, cool, and unforgiving. It's been days and the scent of her perfume is fading.

He bends a knee and turns on the portable lamp. Any day now, she'll be back. He lifts his arm and stares at his wrist. There are more charms to the bracelet she made him, but their names together never changes, no matter how many charms get switched out.

"Bring her back," he says softly, pleading. He can't brute strength the well into giving into his demands. "Please?" He's never had to beg for anything in his life. "Bring her back."

He waits, but nothing happens. Sighing, Satoru stretches out his leg and opens the book about the Shikon Jewel. It reads like a fairy tale.

A jewel that grants wishes? He snorts. Still, Gramps gave this to him to read over. Surely the old man isn't messing with him. Satoru yawns and closes the book. He crosses his arms and shuts his eyes.

In his dreams, Kagome is there, smiling. She tells him that everything is going to be okay. Some nights she tells him how she's going to move in after she graduates. Though they both know she won't ever have to work.

But when he opens his eyes, she's not there. So, Satoru squeezes his eyes shut and wills his mind to shut down.

Why can't he escape to his dreams?

Everything is better when he's dreaming.

He jerks. The book falls out of his lap. Something is happening. Satoru pushes the cover off him and stands. The room glows blue for a moment before fading back.

"Kagome!" He peers down the well and his emotions fight with one another, punching him in the throat.

"Satoru?" Kagome peers up at him. Her demeanor changes in an instant and she's climbing up the ladder he had installed.

Satoru grabs her before she can fully climb up and wraps his arms around her. He inhales, breathing in her scent. She smells like her, but there's a scent of something else he can't place underneath the smell of outdoors.

"Toru?"

"Not a word," he says, holding her tightly. "I can't—"

"I missed you too." She winces, a small gasp escaping.

Satoru loosens his hold on her and lifts her shirt. Is she hurt? And since when does she wear priestess clothing? She always said she found them too restricting.

"Hey!"

"What. Is. This?" He glares at the bandages wrapped around her waist. Who injured her? What injured her?

"Oh..." Kagome takes her shirt from his hands and lowers it back down, but the image of her hurt is already scarred into his brain. "The centipede demon wanted what was inside of me." She wrings her hands. "There was a jewel—"

"The Shikon."

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Satoru swallows. His throat still feels wrong. "Gramps gave me a book to read." He reaches for her again, and holds her more gently, mindful of the bandages now. "You went somewhere I couldn't go." And what the hell is this talk about demons?

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to." She pulls back and looks over at the lamp and then up at him. "Have you been sleeping in here?"

"Yes." Of course, he's been holed up in the well house. Does she really think he would be at home sleeping?

"You didn't have to do that. Your poor back!"

"Course I had to," he scoffs. "There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I couldn't sleep. Couldn't feel your energy at all."

Kagome smiles and stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And you said you weren't sweet." She sighs. "And when did you get so tall?"

He rolls his eyes. "Don't go somewhere I can't follow," he commands.

"I can't promise that, but I'll always do my best to make it back to you."

Satoru squints his eyes at her. He doesn't like that at all. "Kagome—"

"Shush." She presses a finger to his lips. "I made it back to you, didn't I?"

His ears burn. He turns his head away. "See that you always do."

Kagome laughs, and the sound is enough to settle his nerves for now. He throws one more accusing glare at the well as he ushers them out of the well house. If he had his way, Kagome won't be allowed near this area ever again.

***

A/N: Was gonna upload Saturday, but ehh I figured why wait. So happy hump day! I was expecting pain today because of jjk leaks, but we seem to be okay for now. There's always a chance of pain next week lol. Next update will be either How To Tame or Wish I Could.

If anyone knows of any good artists please let me know. I've messaged a few to get a cover for the serial, but haven't had much luck yet.

Before I forget, yes there will eventually be smut in this story when they are adults but that is quite some time away.

Stay healthy. Drink your water. Stress relief tea does wonders if the week has been blah for you. And try to get plenty of sleep! I'm off to write something, probably the two dicked fox (and yes I have created a lore reason as to why he has two dicks)

#gojo satoru x kagome #gojo x kagome #crossover pairings #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru #inuyasha x jujutsu kaisen #crossposted on ao3

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whentherewerebicycles · 1 year

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my joints hurt so bad 😩😩😩 tomorrow I must do the thing I dread (make a phone call) so as to do the other thing I dread (find a new doctor) to figure out what’s going on. also I feel like I’ve been relentlessly negative about everything lately which I think is mostly a manifestation of my bleh mood around resuming fertility treatments + my anxiety around the fact that my student loan and car payment are about to go way up which makes everything else feel more precarious. but I don’t wanna live like that!!! my life is very good!!!! for instance I have two snuggly little dogs and a job I really love! I live in the same town as my bff and my sister!! I have the cutest little house and I get to paint the walls any colors I want because my landlord is a really nice dude who wants me to enjoy living here!!! I am surrounded by natural beauty so breathtaking I can’t believe it’s REAL I can’t believe people just get to live like this!!!! it sucks that it’s proven expensive and kinda scary to get pregnant (and that it’s consumed so much of my mental/emotional energy this year) but also I am very fortunate I’ve been able to juuust about make it work financially thus far. so whatever sigh this week I want to try my best to redirect my thoughts to the good stuff in my life when I find myself wallowing in that negative headspace.

okay let’s see what do we the day hold. my paint is ready to pick up at home depot so that can be my big project today if I choose to undertake it. I think I will! but first I will eat breakfast, tape off the trim, and take off outlet covers before I pick stuff up. I am a notoriously messy painter despite my best precautions but I want to try to go very slow and be very careful this time!! (I always say this and I always somehow end up scrubbing paint out of the carpet.)

plan for today:

make breakfast

water plants

spend an hour or so drafting the ‘getting started in research’ guide

tape off trim/edges

move furniture as needed

pick up paint & supplies (grab soil too!!)

paint????

take a shower post-painting

empty dishwasher

change sheets/duvet cover and do laundry

empty upstairs/downstairs trash cans

take a long walk with the dogs

maybe spend some time researching CEL pedagogy in rhet/comp classes if I want

set a timer and read for 20 min—I’ve been slipping and need to gently get myself back into the habit! I only have 4 books left to hit 60 for the year but my ambitious goal is 70 so really 14 books in 14 weeks. this is absolutely doable but I gotta keep up a steady pace

#ok the trick now is to get myself out of bed lol #I’ve been ~working from bed~ since 7am and it’s 9:45

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growingdesires · 2 years

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Hungry - Chapter 1

This was one of my first published stories, it is free on my Deviantart in full, here is the first chapter :)

____________________________________________________ Your head hits the pillow, you are not long for the waking world. Another rough day at college coupled with your roommates foolish idea to go out last night drinking. “Why did I have to take chemistry?” you curse to yourself “And why did I listen to Phils stupid plan to go out drinking!”. You groan, you know why, Emily was going to be there. Your mind starts to relax as you start to fall asleep. *Bzzt Bzzt* Your phone goes off. “Uggh” you peer over to the screen, Its Emily. Your eyes bolt open and you quickly snatch the phone from its charger. Emily: I had a lot of fun last night Matt, I am suffering now though. Matt: Me too, I just got in and I’m in bed Emily: Lol same, I’m not sure how you managed to stay awake in Chemistry, I’m fairly sure I did fall asleep Matt: You did, only reason you got up is because I coughed Emily: Nice save, Mr Fletcher would’ve killed me if he would’ve noticed Matt: That old coot, he is blind and should’ve retired ages ago Emily: Too true, I hope you can make it tomorrow to the party at my dorm, low key stuff but you made the list Matt: Definitely Emily: See you tomorrow then, Good night xx Matt: Night Emily Chambers. You’ve been crushing on her since high school, as it turns out you both went to the same college and you both took the same class. She is brilliant, incredibly smart, funny and very pretty. Emily is 6”1 and obviously towers over all of her friends, she is quite lean in her build with an even distribution of what little fat she does have on her body. As a result of her frame she isn’t curvy at all, whilst usually that means she wouldn’t be your type there is something about her that just clicks with you. You appreciate a larger woman, curvier the better and for the most part the bigger the better too. You estimate Emily to have B cups and her bum is trim and almost non-existent, her long beautiful legs are thin and smooth, her best asset other than her very pretty face. Her face is lean and she has a strong jawline, a wide mouth which just beams when she smiles. Flowing down her back is her long black hair which curls towards the ends. Even though you are exhausted, your conversation has you thinking about spending time with Emily tomorrow. She mentioned that it's low key, enough for you two to spend quality time together? You hope as you fall asleep. The next day flies by, not helped by your extended lay in. You go shopping for a few things to get you through next week's unrelenting college course and also some new clothes to go to Emily’s party. You start to get ready and check in with Phil. Hey man, you're not coming tonight?” you ask “Where? I wasn’t invited?” he seems a little hurt “Oh… well Emily invited me over for a party, she did say low key” Phil’s face breaks out in a stupid grin “Oh low key huh?” he winks You blush in response “I’m sure it's not like that… is it?” “All I’m going to say budd is pack some protection and make sure you look a million dollars” he punches you lightly on the arm “No it can’t be? But? Huh?” “Hey chill, don’t over think it Matt, you will be fine. Let me know the deets tomorrow, go get her tiger” “Huh? Yeah… right” “I’ll see you tomorrow if you do come back” Phil winks as he enters his bedroom You spend some extra time getting ready. Product in your hair, shaved smooth, bathed in cologne and your clothes look smart. You are ready to dazzle. Doing the classy thing you pick up a bottle of wine before you head over. When you arrive at Emily’s dorm, music can be heard from outside. You take a sharp inhale and knock. The door opens, It’s Emily. “Hi Matt, looking sharp, is that wine?” She laughs “Yeah… for the party?” you blush “Heh you are such a sweetheart, come on in” Following Emily into her dorm it has a fair sized living area with 2 couches and a big TV on the wall, you survey the room and see a few faces you recognize. Her close friends Jess, Joanne, Melissa and five guys, you don’t recognize them other than one. Brad Smith. Much like you he went to the same highschool but he was one of the popular kids. Brad was the quarterback for the school team, his mom and dad were big shots in the town, even as a straight man you could tell he was handsome. “Hey everyone, this is Matt, a good friend of mine, a chemistry nerd like me” Emily gives a sweet giggle “Hey everyone” you shyly wave Everyone introduces themselves to you and you mingle with everyone there for a while. You notice Emily is sticking close to Brad. After some time passes, some games and the hours get on people start to leave, stumbling out the door. You must admit that you are quite drunk yourself, you drank the wine almost all by yourself. This is it, you see your opportunity and sit next to Emily on the three seater. Brad sits to her left and you to the right, you try to join in the conversation but it’s no use. You spend the next hour trying to get included in their conversation but you instead just speak to the other party goers. Brad finally gets up to go to the “piss palace” as he so eloquently put it. Emily turns to you wide eyed with a big smile. “Oh Matt, I think he likes me” she beams Trying to hide your shame as you realise you have misread the situation. “Oh yeah?” you feign excitement, Emily is pretty drunk so I think she fell for it. “Yeah, I’ve never seen him sit with one girl for so long, Oh Matt I'm giddy!” “Well, play it smooth Emily, I’m sure if you feel this good then he must be giving you good signs”. Expertly delivered, I don’t think she could tell you are dying inside “Good advice Matt, you are such a good friend” Like a dagger through your heart you suppress your frown as best as you can. “We are going to head off now Em, I hope you have a good night” Melissa winks as her and Jess start to leave “Hey Matt, I think it's time we left” she adds as she gives you a light tap on your arm. “Yeah, good idea Jess, I’m going to turn in Em, see you monday” you flash her a fake smile before leaving with the others. After closing the door you go the opposite direction for Jess & Melissa. A bit of fresh air to clear your head before you get back to your dorm. You stumble in as quietly as a drunk person can and fall face first onto your bed. *Knock Knock* What pure evil creature is knocking at my door at this ungodly hour, you squint as the light burns your eyes whilst the burden of being conscious weighs heavily on your skull. “Who is it?” you groggily call “It’s me bud” “You know I was-” “I’ve got someone to see you Matt, I hope you are decent” You sit up and stretch with a mighty yawn. Luckily you cleaned your room yesterday and yesterday’s clothes will have to do, you pop a mint in hopes that it will help with your breath, quick comb of your hair. “Yeah, send them in” The door opens and you see Emily. Her eyes are puffy and her eyeliner is running down her cheeks. “Good morning… everything all right?” you break the silence. “Everything alright? What a stupid question” you think to yourself Tears form in her eyes and she dashes into your room. Instinctively you hold out your arms to offer her a comforting embrace. “What irony, you wanted her in your room but not like this, this is some cursed monkey paw shit” you think to yourself whilst she sobs into your shoulder. 5 minutes pass, slowly she calms down and raises her head off your shoulder. “Oh Matt, I am so sorry, I didn’t know who else to turn to” “It’s ok, you can talk to me” you say, taking your new friendzone role seriously “Brad is a jerk” “Did he hurt you?” you say with venom in your voice “Not like that… once he got back from the toilet I started to make a move… he turned me down, said I was a flat chested nerd” She starts sobbing again “What an asshole” “What a shallow bastard… I like him and he shoots me down like that… it hurts” “I know the feeling” you say under your breath “Huh? What?” “Nothing, I just said he's a dick” “Yeah… he really is” “Right wait here, I’ll be back in 30 seconds” you head towards the kitchen. You open your freezer and grab a tub of ice cream and 2 spoons and head back into your room, fire up netflix and sit back down. “I’ve not had many female friends but I believe the social norm is to watch some junk TV and eat ice cream in this scenario” you chuckle and see a smile creep over her face “You are a good friend Matt” You spend the next 2 hours watching any old rubbish on netflix and sharing ice cream. Emily has a bit of a sweet tooth as she devoured 90% of the ice cream herself. Randomly she pauses the TV and turns to you. “Do you think I'm a flat chested nerd?” a serious glare in her eyes Completely caught off guard you can’t control the shocked reaction you give her “C’mon we are friends, you can answer” She adds “I mean from one chemistry nerd to another, yes we are nerds” you joke, she reveals a tiny smile for a brief moment before the serious look returns “And my chest?” You go red in the face “Erm, Your chest, I mean, No you aren’t flat chested” you stammer “I’m a B cup, not big sure but not flat chested. Brad, what an ass hole. Have you got any more ice cream?” “All out sorry Em” “Probably for the better. Thank you Matt, I think I’m going to go now anyway, you’ve been a good friend today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning” “Oh sure, I’ll let you out” You show Emily out and she remarks at what a gentleman you are. Phil is peering through the door at you from his room. “Sooooo?” he exits his room with a big smirk “I mean I didn’t hear any noises so-” “No” you interrupt “It didn’t go like that at all” “Well tell ya boy Phil all about it” “Ok so last night…” You give Phil all the “deets” that you remember from last night and everything from this morning “Wow so the highschool quarterback, popular, rich, snooty athlete was an asshole… who would’ve thought?” Phil rolls his eyes “Well not Emily I guess” “Well how are you Matt?” “Feeling pretty shitty… I got my hopes up and I shouldn't have but hey maybe I can just be in the friendzone and maybe we will just be friends…” “My advice, try to avoid that, it will hurt more. You can be her friend but after you’ve lost your feelings for her” “Makes sense. I’m going to shower and chill in my room today, if you need anything just knock” “Same for you bud” You spend the day watching TV, playing games and relaxing before class starts again tomorrow morning.

#Weightgain #weight #gain #belly #expansion #bellyexpansion #eating #stuffing #bloating #stuffed #stuffedbelly #teasing #tease #flirty #hungry #story #ertoica

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215-luv · 2 years

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How about JJK CHARACTERS doing normal jobs other than fighting curses?

// tw: curses/cursing, mentions of drowning

Saleslady!Nobara who is a pro at knowing what clothes matches your complexion and body figure or what accessory would match well with your aura. but will brutally talk shit about you in her mind when you pick up a dress that’s really really bad lmao, she’ll be looking at you and the dress back and forth with an expression that screams, ‘really?’ but don’t worry!! as soon as you ask for her advice, she’s already have 10 planned outfits just for you and a paper with her number on it sliding right inside of your back pocket (without you knowing ofc).

Waiter!Yuuji who never fails to brighten up his customers day with just a smile as he takes their orders and serves their food. the whole restaurant is doting on him lmao they adore him so much that the once mean customer suddenly turns nice under his presence?? the manager definitely gives him a raise for that. he approaches you with a paper and pen on hand and then is taken aback when he sees you because omg you’re so pretty?!??!! he’s all blushing and wide smiles and when comes the time he serves your food he’d mention some stuff like,, “a special dish for a special customer right here” “enjoy your meal, m’lady/my lord *winks*” he’s goofy and extra, i love him.

Librarian!Megumi is the quiet boy who everyone goes to the library not to actually read books but to check him out… i mean, who wouldn’t? he’d have a cardigan as his usual fit, hanging around on his usual place on the front counter while being occupied with a book. when he hears the bell ring from the front door, indicating a customer coming in, he lifts his head up and he sees you—a regular who comes by to actually read books and not make him uncomfortable with the stares, and suddenly his day is complete. you’re probably the only person who he smiles at and nods in greeting. and as for the other people,, well,,, he doesn’t spare them a single glance.

Lawyer!Maki who isn’t afraid to call out and talk shit in court that leaves everyone, including the judge, shitting on their pants because the raging aura she has lmaoo. BUT when you became her client, she suddenly becomes extremely patient and sympathetic with you that leaves her co-workers (the second years) dumbfounded?? like where is maki and what did you do to her?! they all watch as she tells you something with a soft look on her face, “don’t be afraid, alright? i’m here to protect you.” & their jaws drop.

Dentist!Gojo who is the finest dentist you’ve ever seen in your whole life that it leaves you frozen, completely baffled under his presence it makes you want to pass out or turn around and find another clinic, there’s no in between. you lay there while he inspects your teeth and he goes, “mmmmmmmm it’s a mess back here sweetheart..” and never in your life did your mood drop so fast you suddenly think, ‘nvm he’s ugly’ lmao

Hairdresser!Inumaki who is a pro at getting the EXACT look you want for your hair as the one you showed him on your phone. he’s not like one of those hairstylists who gets barely half of the hairstyle you want done (which is annoying, fr). but this man however, will definitely take hairstyling to a whole new level. he’s the type to not talk alot. he simply takes a look at the hairstyle you like and then he’s already got them hair dye and scissors ready. he’s not the mean type, definitely all cute and jolly even though he’s wearing a mask that covers his lower face because his eyes tells you everything, they’re so expressive that you almost giggle by the way his eyebrows were furrowed and all concentrated when he’s trimming your strands. and plus, the way his hands are on your hair is so soothing n gentle, you’ve almost fallen asleep halfway through the treatment lmao

Car Mechanic!Toji (aight here me out,,) is HOT. and i mean you go to his shop with your car and park at the front,, when you roll down your window you nearly passed out when you’re met with the sight of a handsome man wearing a tank top with a scar on the edge of his lip that forms a smirk the moment he sees your pretty face. and he goes, “gotta problem with that engine sweetheart?” and bullshit, because he’s completely right about that darn engine. you’re definitely poking holes on your tires when you get home tonight.

Nurse!Nanami who visits your room at any time of the day to make sure you’ve been drinking your medicine. he’s always there to assist you, asking you if you’ve been feeling any pain lately, and if you mention about having back pains, he quickly has his hands on your back, gently going from area to area and asking where does it hurt specifically, then goes to massage a particular area and asks, “is this alright? do you feel any discomfort?” but then there are also those times where you rebel and leave your room at a late hour (which is prohibited for u). so after his rounds around the floor, when nanami sees you sitting on one of the couches on the waiting room, he sighs. and when you greet him with an innocent smile, “hi, nanam—“ “get back to your room. now.”

Daycare Teacher!Yuuta who is the sweetest rookie ever. he’s also the youngest & the only boy among the old ladies who were working at the daycare. he at first was really awkward around kids, but that doesn’t stop him from adoring and caring about them with all his heart. the first time he met you, you were bringing your niece to the daycare and he’s baffled—you were so beautiful he couldn’t just seem to be aware of his surroundings!! and,, well, he bumps into one of the kids.. which was your niece who was actively running to the entrance that she ended up bumping into his leg lmao. a million apologies later, he faces you with a blush on his face, “i-i’m.. really sorry.. how could i make it up to you..?” and you know, you were also surprised bc he was asking how he could make it up to YOU??? like you were the one who bumped into his leg and not your niece hahahah,, but that’s okay! you weren’t gonna waste this chance anyway,, so why not suggest a date?? :DD

Lifeguard!Geto who the girls couldn’t help but gape at on a day at the beach. he stands on the shore where he gets a view of the people, especially at sea. on other days he either wears a tank top or goes topless with a whistle hanging around his neck. he sometimes walks around the shore, smiling politely at people—who swiftly becomes head over heels for him. he meets you when he saves you from a drowning accident. while you were still in the midst of fear, he’s got you in his arms as he lowers you to the ground and he instinctively consults you, “hey hey, i’m here. it’s okay. you’re okay, you’ve got me.” and when you do get a bare grip of tranquil, your eyes meets his, and then suddenly your breathing calms down. of course, geto notices it, earning a relieved smile forming on his face as you felt his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on.

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon.

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!”

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous.

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub!

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself.

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him.

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed.

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen.

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N.

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny.

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl.

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks.

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body.

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

-- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her.

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips.

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing request #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic rec #harry styles prompt #harry styles x influencer y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble

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lottiebagleywritesobx · 3 years

Text

Girls like you

THE POOL

JJ Maybank wasn't really sure why the Y/L/N family had hired him to clean out their pool when summer started. They seemed to like him around the hotel when they went for meals but he wasn't exactly qualified, he wasn't complaining though, they tip well and it couldn't be that hard.

His only problem was Y/N.

They never got on well. She was friends with Kie in her kook year, who even went as far as to dub her 'the only kook who doesn't make me want to gauge my eyes out', so she knew the pogues from around although they'd grown apart the girls shared no bad blood and always stopped to catch up when they saw each other around.

He was in the middle of raking the leaves from the large pool when he saw her. She was crossing the garden from the large mansion, clad in a bikini with sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. JJ hates how good she looks, her curves perfectly on display and a confident aura around her.

She's got headphones in, he notices as she saunters closer.

"Hi princess," He smirks, watching as she rolls her eyes

"I'm not your princess. How long are you gonna be?" She questions, settling onto one of the sun loungers next to the pool

"An hour or so," JJ states

"Well, could you do it quietly I'm hungover and I wanna just relax," She states, slipping the second headphone back into her ear before he can reply.

He cleans, unaware of her watching him from behind the glasses as she sips on her bottle of cold water. She would never tell anyone but watching him work, his muscles tensing and untensing under his vest shirt, a light sweat from the hot summer day on his skin, she couldn't help herself from thinking he looked good.

He would definitely admit to John B that he thought she looked fit. Her breasts spilling out of her bikini top a little and the barely there thong bottom's high cut making her legs look excruciatingly long. He'd probably make some crude jokes about hate sex being way more fun. He wouldn't admit though, to finding something very comforting about her presence, and finding the way she hummed along to whatever she was listening too adorable.

It's a further 40 minutes, JJ is trying to work out how to get the pool vaccuum to turn on, when her phone rings loudly.

"Hey Sare," Her voice speaks. JJ figures quickly it's Sarah Cameron, the pair are practically inseparable and the whole island knows it.

He half listens to her side of the conversation, more out of boredom than interest.

"No, babes, I love you and all but I really don't wanna. The last million times I've seen Rafe he's been so weird and creepy and I don't wanna be alone with him,"

JJ doesn't know why the comment angers him so much. Why does he even care if Rafe is clearly trying to pull her? It's none of his business. Yet, he can feel his blood boiling at the thought.

"No Sar, if I go and you have to stay with me then you can't go and be with Topper,"

She's silent for a few minutes before sighing "Fine. Fine, I'll come. See you in a minute. Bring me some shorts, I'm in the garden and can't be arsed to go upstairs and find some. You owe me forever,"

JJ wants to scream. Wants to tell her she shouldn't go if she feels uncomfortable around Kelce. He wishes Kie were here, maybe she could talk her into staying where she felt safe. Maybe she would be able to explain why JJ even gives a shit.

"Maybank," She states, he looks up, trying to act like he hasn't been listening. "I'm going out. You'll be the only one here," She informs

"Okay," He nods.

"My keys are on the kitchen counter, lock up when you're done and I'll just grab them from you at the hotel,"

"All right," He agrees

"When will you be there?" She questions, looking at him like he's an idiot. He groans internally, obviously she needed to know that.

"Tomorrow, 2 until closing,"

'"I'll swing by around 4," She informs. He nods, trying not to stare at her as she lets her hair down from the ponytail it had been in, shaking it out. A car honks outside and she turns, walking up the garden towards the side gates, turning a few metres away,

"Oh, there's an envelope on the kitchen counter with your tip in," She adds

"Thanks. Goodbye princess," He smiles,

"Still not your princess," she shouts back, turning and disappearing round the corner.

THE CAR

JJ felt a lot more in his element when her dad had called him asking if he could fix her car. He hadn't specified it was his eldest daughters, and JJ knew the family owned 7 cards despite only 3 of them even being able to drive.

JJ recognised it though, a white convertible porsche, he'd seen her driving it around before. Wether she was blasting music with the roof down singing with Sarah, picking up a take out from the wreck, driving around in the middle of the night, she'd even given Kie a lift to the Chateau before. He realised that he always seemed to notice her presence.

He was working in the family's garage, the bonnet popped open and grease all over him. It was an easy fix, if a little fiddly.

He jumped out of his skin when the door burst open. He is immediately taken aback by how good she looks. Clad in a tight black skirt that is ridiculously short, heels and a tight black V neck top with a lace trim around the neck. Her hair falls in bouncy curls around her shoulders and her makeup looks perfect. He would have sworn on everything he'd never seen anyone look so beautiful.

"You're a boy," The girl states.

"Good job noticing that one princess," JJ smirks, she rolls her eyes.

"I have a date and Sarah is being so unhelpful, can you help me pick a top?" She questions, he gulps, nodding.

"Okay, so this is option 1,"

"It looks good,"

"Right. But is it sexy? Do you look at me and think I wanna slam her against a wall and rail her?"

His eyes widen a little, that's one way of putting it he decides.

"Look, I'm your families help, I shouldn't be answering that,"

"Like I care Maybank," She groans, exasperated.

"Okay fine, I look at you in that and I think I wanna rip your clothes off,"

"Okay good. Option 2," She starts. JJ is shocked when she pulls her top off in front of him, without even turning around. He turns around, although not without taking a mental picture of her boobs being pushed up in a red lace bra. "Who knew you were a prude?"

"Just respecting you princess," He comments

"You've seen me in a bikini, what's the difference?" She questions, he stays silent having no quick comment to respond with. "I'm dressed," She states

He turns back around, she looks good, a forest green top made of satin.

"The first one is sexy, that one is cute,"

"Thanks JJ, oh, and hey, thanks for fixing my car,"

"Uh. Yeah, anytime,"

THE SUMMER HOUSE

JJ was happy to paint the summer house. He claimed to his friends it was just because they way over paid and tipped big. In reality it was because for three days straight he would get to catch glimpses of her. And he did.

He saw her when she swam in her pool.

He saw her when she played in the garden with her little sister.

He saw her when she cloud gazed with Sarah Cameron.

The best times he got to see her though, were when she would bring him stuff. Every so often she'd knock on the open door to the summer house, sometimes with water, sometimes with snacks, a few times even with a beer. A couple of times she stopped and made small talk, one time she even smeared paint on his cheek and giggled as he chased her through the garden.

He enters the kitchen, used to how the family worked now. An envelope of money waiting on the kitchen counter, they always seemed to be coming and going so it was easier.

He was shocked to see her in the kitchen, she's scrolling on her phone sipping on what looks to be an iced coffee

"Oh, hey JJ," She smiles

"Hey, I'm done," he informs, she nods, watching as he picks up the envelope "So, I'll be seeing you around,"

"Did you want a lift?" She questions, he looks at her slightly confused "I just noticed your bike wasn't here and it's kinda late to be walking back. It's a long walk,"

"You really don't have to princess,"

"Honestly, it's fine," she assures, jumping up and grabbing her keys before heading towards the garage.

She wasn't sure when she stopped hating JJ Maybank, wasn't sure when she started noticing little things like the blue in his eyes and which snapback he was wearing and how tired he looked. She wasn't sure when the sight of his bike in the driveway started giving her butterflies.

"So where is your bike?" She questions, the roof of the car is down and the wind blowing through her hair as she pulls out of the private estate her home is on.

"Didn't have enough fuel to get to yours and back," He shrugs

"Why didn't you just-" She cuts herself off "Shit, I'm so sorry. That was insanely rude, I wasn't even thinking and-" He chuckles, watching as she splutters and blushes

"It's okay. Life is different on the cut I can understand how a kook princess wouldn't get it," He shrugs, she nods, still not sure what to say.

"Y'know my life isn't perfect," She comments, he scoffs, unable to help himself. "I'm not kidding. It's privileged as fuck, I know that, but it's not perfect,"

"Go on then princess, what's so shit?" He doesn't mean for it to sound so harsh, he's genuinely curious

"My parents, they have basically planned my entire life, down to where I'll go to college, what sorority I'll be in, where I'll work my summer internship, who I'll marry, where I'll get married, which big kook house I'll live in, at what age I'll have to give up my career, which has been decided for me by them, to start trying for babies. It's 24 by the way so in 8 years. My whole life is decided and I don't want it. I wanna go on a trip around the world and surf and travel and explore. I wanna fall in love and get my heartbroken again and again until I find the right guy. I wanna live in a New York apartment and I wanna see the world. I don't wanna marry Rafe Cameron just cause our mothers are friends. I mean he's literally scary and harasses me and acts like even though I'm 16 I shouldn't have a choice cause one day he'll father my kids. And no one gets it, none of my friends, not even my best friend. The only person who ever understood why it was so shit was Kie and then she left, she left and lives her life and it's fun and exciting and anything could happen. I don't hate her for it but it fucking sucks that she left me miserable. I'll be miserable living my planned out life and then I'll die. Yeah, I have money and that's fucking great, but my life is far from perfect,"

JJ sits in a stunned silence. He's not really sure what to say. Their problems were very different but hers were just as shitty. He feels like he's seeing her in a whole new light.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't tell people that and we barely no each other," She mutters, not wanting to look at him

"Where would you go first?" His question surprised her

"On my fictitious surf trip?" She questions, he nods "Europe, Spain I think,"

They sit in silence the rest of the way, it's not awkward though, both of them feel comforted by each other presence. He gives her instructions to the chateau.

"We are probably gonna drink some beers and smoke. You wanna stay? You could crash here and drive home in the morning," JJ offers

"I can't. My family are having dinner at the hotel. Thanks though," She smiles gently

"Yeah. Uh, I hope it's not too shit. Thanks for the ride princess,"

He climbs out of the car, his friends who sit on the porch immediately calling out to him, they're all laughing and teasing him about his lift home and when he looks back he almost thinks he sees a look of longing in her eyes before she's reversing out of the chateau.

THE BOAT

"Can you fix it?" She questions. JJ Maybank has never seen her look nervous before.

It was only 6:30 AM when she'd started banging on the door to the Chateau, tears in her eyes and panic on her face hoping JJ would be here. John B had pulled the door open, half asleep and groaning a little at the bright sunlight. He'd let her into the small home and disappeared to wake JJ up. John B opted not to put too much thought into the way the minute her name was said JJ leaped out of bed and shoved into the living area, the way his hands cupped her cheeks to see if she was okay, the way he was calling her princess as he tried to calm down her hiccuping tears.

"I can fix it," He confirms. They're standing on the deck of her families boat "It's an easy fix princess, okay? don't even worry," He speaks in a comforting tone

"Thank you JJ,"

"No worries. It'll take me a while, you got anywhere to be?"

"No. Well yes, a breakfast thing with the Cameron's but it's at my house and I can't exactly show up without the boat so,"

"So you're hiding out here all day?" JJ questions

"Well, I don't wanna intrude. I can go and hang out at the beach,"

"Don't talk nonsense, you can hang here. C'mon, I need to be down the bottom with the engine, you can sit and entertain me,"

She watches intently as he works, now that he's not working at her house he hasn't bothered with a shirt, instead just wearing shorts and his infamous red baseball cap. He glances at her occasionally, her makeup streaky from crying and wearing a short white dress.

"So, wanna tell me what happened?" He questions

"Not really," She admits, he nods and she sighs before beginning to explain"Rafe wanted to go boating late and then it all went wrong and then we got the boat to the nearest dock, hence why we are in the middle of nowhere, and he said he was going to call someone to get a lift and it was rainy so I was waiting in here. It had been a while so I went outside to check on him and he was gone. I didn't know what to do. Dad would kill me for breaking the boat, do I just kinda figured I'd walk to yours and hopefully you would no how to fix it. Then I realised I have no clue where you live so I walked to John B's and hoped for the best,"

"He just left you in the middle of nowhere alone?" JJ doesn't know why he's so mad, they were hardly even friends

"Yeah. He texted me to let me know it was cause he's already in shit with his dad and didn't wanna go down for breaking my family's boat," She shrugs, JJ wants to go and find Rafe Cameron and beat his skull in.

"Look, a girl like you deserves someone who would treat them a million times better than that,"

"I always thought you hated me," She admits

"So did I, until this summer I kinda did," He shrugs

"What changed?" She asks, the question is so vulnerable he can't help himself from looking at her

"You aren't what I thought you'd be," He admits, she nods slowly

"How should a girl like me be treated?" She questions

"Like they're the only thing on earth," He's not really sure why he's so openly telling her how he feels but it feels too late now

"Is that how you'd treat me Maybank?"

"Girls like you don't date boys like me," He shrugs, turning quickly back to what he's doing, not wanting her to recognise the disappointment on his face.

THE PARTY

It was no secret her family hosted a big formal party on the 10th of July every year, her parents wedding anniversary. JJ had waited the party the last 2 years and this summer was no different, he'd even managed to get John B and Pope a job too.

His heart had stopped when he saw her, her dress was the exact shade of blue as the sky and flowed beautifully down to her feet, her hair curled with the front pinned back, her makeup beautiful. She looked like an angel approaching him and god why did she have to look so perfect.

"Hey JJ," She smiles, grabbing a glass of champagne from the tray he's holding "Could you do me a favour?"

"Of course," He agrees, expecting some job that needed doing for the party

"If you see Rafe and I'm on my own..." She trails off "I'm trying to avoid him, after the other day,"

It's three hours into the party when JJ grabs her hand, pulling her along behind him and away from Rafe who is clearly trying to catch her alone. He pulls her into a small cupboard slamming the door closed behind him and locking it.

"What was that about?"

"Rafe," He shrugs, he didn't outwardly say he'd been watching her all night to make sure he could look out for her. He also didn't say he would have been watching her all night even if she hadn't asked him too.

"JJ, you know how your coming over next week to fix that one door that you can't open from inside the cupboard?" She question

"Yeah," He states, peering out of the key hole to see if Rafe is still looking for her

"Well, this is the cupboard,"

"Shit!" He shouts, pulling away from the door to face her. "Shit, it's your parents wedding anniversary and I got you locked in the cupboard,"

"It's alright," She shrugs "They hate each other most the time anyway,"

"Call someone to let you out,"

"Where on this dress did you think there was pockets, you call someone,"

"My phone is in the twinkie,"

"The what?"

"John B's car," JJ sighs. "Fuck princess, I'm so sorry," He groans

"It's fine. Sarah will come looking for me eventually," She shrugs. He nods, watching as she sits down on the ground, patting the space next to her.

He obliges, sitting next to her, knees touching in the tight space.

"You look nice tonight, I like the shirt and tie," She compliments, he can feel himself blush and is glad the cupboard is dark enough she probably can't see it.

"Y'know what you said on the boat the other day?" She questions, he immediately knows what she's referring too "About how girls like me don't date boys like you,"

"Yeah," He confirms

"Why is that?" She questions quietly

"I couldn't make you happy princess. Your parents would hate me. I couldn't take you on the fancy dates you're used to. You wouldn't be happy,"

"My parents love you, they think you're resourceful and hard working. I hate the stuffy dates figure 8 boys take me on," She informs, he laughs a little at that. "Besides, you already make me happy. I'm just saying Maybank, if you don't wanna date me just say it, don't try and put it on me,"

JJ isn't really sure how to react. How to explain he desperately wanted to date her, wanted her to be his girl and wanted to shower her in love and adoration. He isn't sure how to tell her that by inadvertently telling him she wanted to date him she had made him the happiest man on earth. He's not really great with words and it all feels too hard to say.

So, instead, he turns slightly, taking her face in his hands and pulling her to him, his lips crashing against hers and somehow she knows everything he wanted to say.

#jj maybank x reader #jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x kook!reader #obx fic

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lovenona · 3 years

Text

ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.)

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox.

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong.

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met.

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago.

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover.

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.”

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–”

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say.

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up.

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay.

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.”

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda.

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think.

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.)

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.”

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.”

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes.

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full.

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you.

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.”

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.”

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs.

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it.

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?”

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–”

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.”

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly.

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.”

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth.

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?”

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time.

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.)

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?”

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away.

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.”

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.”

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.”

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.”

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is.

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.”

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power.

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name.

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind.

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans.

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.”

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight.

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for.

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being.

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.”

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind.

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.)

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer.

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.”

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge.

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat.

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you.

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water.

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch.

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.)

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone.

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies.

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?”

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way.

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.”

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–”

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.”

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it.

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter.

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence.

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.”

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love.

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone.

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.”

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs.

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.”

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother.

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth.

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets.

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you.

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being.

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos.

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum.

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return.

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want.

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”)

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover.

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you.

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now.

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun.

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso.#it's dark in here #it's hot in here

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craftycheetah · 2 years

Text

Vigil pt.5

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

CW: exhibitionism, office sex, cursing, choking, mentions of loss of body parts

Unlocking the door to the apartment, you huff loudly and slam it back before trudging into the living room. Hitoshi glances away from his video game on the screen to look at you. “Oh hey.”

“I lost my job.”

He pauses it, turning to face you. “What? How?”

You groan and rummage through the fridge. “Cause apparently the place got raided while I was here last night and someone didn’t tell me.”

He has the nerve to look embarrassed. “I meant to tell you but I totally forgot and you were sleeping so—“

“Ugh, just shut up. I need a drink.”

Whiskey hops on the counter and meows at you, demanding scratches.” Did you feed him?”

“Of course, like twice.” Hitoshi responds as he resumes the game.

“Fatass,” you tease Whiskey and scratch his chin. You kick your boots off and plop the duffel bag on the coffee table in front of Hitoshi.

“What’s that?”

“Hair stuff, you’re helping me take out my braids.”

“Why would I do that?”

You turn off the TV, and he protests. “Because you’re the reason I lost my job. I didn’t even have time to get a new one, so help me or I’ll cut your dick off.”

“I don't even know how to do that. You'll kill me if I mess up and—“

“Relax, it’s not rocket science. I’ll show you. Open your legs so I can sit down.”

You sit on the ground between his legs and start taking out your hair tools, testing the scissors before cutting the braids in half and tossing them on the side. “So just unravel them like rope.”

“That I can do.”

Thirty minutes into the removal, you pause and stretch your neck. “I hate this.”

Hitoshi touches your natural hair. “It’s so fluffy.”

“It’s dry, Hitoshi,” you mumble and scratch your scalp. “And itchy.”

“Here, lemme help,” he offers, moving your hands and scratching your scalp for you.

“You don't have t—oh, that's nice,” you groan. Hitoshi snickers at how easily you melt into his touch, leaning into it.

“A little to the—right there,” you sigh. “Okay okay, let’s finish up so I can wash it.”

“You sure you don’t want more head scratches?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

Finally, you’re finished after an hour. Packing the old braids in a plastic bag, you take your hair care products out of the bag and rush to the bathroom while Hitoshi vacuums.

Almost an hour later, you step out of the shower, wrapped in a towel. “Why do you not have a hairdryer with an attachment!”

“Huh?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Your hairdryer doesn’t have a comb attachment. Explain.”

“My hair doesn’t need one? I don’t even know what that is!”

“You’re so stupid! Order an attachment.” You yell in frustration, then stomp back to the bathroom.

“Drama queen,” he chuckles but picks up his phone anyway.

You return in your sleep shirt, and your hair is blown out and trimmed. Unfortunately, you had to do it the old-fashioned way with a hairbrush.

Hitoshi looks up and stares at your hair.“Woah. I didn’t know your hair was so long!”

“Wait until it shrinks,” you snicker and sit next to him. “Now I’m all clean and ready for an unemployed loser nap.” Whiskey jumps on your lap and loafs in your lap, purring loudly. Taking your phone, you text one of your friends while Hitoshi plays with your hair, running his hands through it.

Hitoshi looks over when he sees you giggling at your phone. “Who’re you texting?”

“Iwa.“

“Oh right. You could still do underground work with me. Get a share of the money and no one ever has to know who you are.”

“Isn't your dad an unground hero?”

“…oof, you’re right. And he’d want to meet you.”

You sigh, sinking further into the chair. “I’m screwed.”

He kisses the top of your head. “We can still ask Dynamight for that pardon.”

“He'd kill me, report you, and then you'd be in prison and I'd be six feet under.”

“Not unless I brainwash him….” Hitoshi mumbles.

You look up at him, amused. “Not you going rogue.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Hitoshi grabs you by your waist, lifts you into his lap, and grins, kissing along your cheek, only to stop when his phone rings.

“Goddamit,” he groans, picking up the phone and sliding right. “Hello?”

‘Toshi!’ Hizashi yells in his ear. ‘What’s up, little listener?’

“Uh, hi pop. I’m just home. What’s up?”

‘Me, Eri, and Shota were in the neighborhood and decided to pay you a visit! Hope you’re ready for us cause we’re right down the street.’

“You’re down the street?” He pushes you off and covers the microphone. “You have to leave. Now!”

“Ow, why?” You grumble as you sit on the floor.

“My dads are coming over, and he cannot see you.”

“Why? Is he a hero too?”

Hitoshi nods.

“Dammit! Where am I supposed to go?!”

“Hang out on the roof? Go buy some food? You can’t be here!”

You groan and go to the bedroom to put on a pair of shorts and your Demonias. “Text me when they leave.”

Hitoshi nods, pacing around the apartment while talking to his dad. You pick up your backpack and walk up to him, kissing his cheek goodbye. “Don’t stall them. It’s hot out.”

His ears turn pink as he pushes you towards the window. “Leaaavveee!”

You laugh and hop out the window onto the fire escape, sliding down the ladder into the alley. Checking if the coast is clear, you casually walk out onto the sidewalk.

Leisurely making your way to the coffee shop down the street, you scan the menu while waiting in line, tapping your foot impatiently. The man in front of you is taking his sweet time ordering, and you inwardly groan, wanting to shove him and his stupid scarf. Who even wears a scarf in summer?

“Thank you,” he finally takes the cup and turns around to face you. Lifting his gaze, he pauses when he sees you. You recognize him. “Oh….shit.”

He squints a little. “Do I know you? You look kinda familiar.”

“Um, no, I don’t think so,” you chuckle nervously. “You know, I don’t think I need a coffee today. I’m just gonna go.”

“Hmm, no, I definitely know you.” He takes a sip of his coffee, gears turning in his head. “Wait—”

Taking the chance, you start backing away towards the door before booking it when he calls out to you.

Running down the sidewalk, you ignore his shouts. Looking back, you see his scarf flying toward you, so you use your quirk to wave it away. “Shit shit shit! I’m screwed!”

In your panic, you run back towards the fire escape on the side of Hitoshi’s building, jumping up to grab the railing and pull yourself up.

Inside the apartment, Hitoshi is sitting on the couch facing the window listening to one of Eri’s long rambles about school with Whiskey on her lap as Hizashi rummages through his fridge. Looking up, he sees you run up the fireplace. “What the fuck?” he mumbles.

Then Aizawa passes right behind you, chasing you onto the roof.

“Shit!”

Eri gasps. “Toshi said a bad word!”

Hitoshi frantically jumps up and opens the window, hopping onto the fire escape. “Dad?”

Rushing to the roof, he sees you standing on the edge, trapped with Aizawa getting ready to tie you up.

“Dad!”

“Hitoshi, help me catch her.”

You awkwardly glance at Hitoshi, giving him a pleading look.

Hitoshi sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? She’s a villain!”

“She’s…not? Can you just hear me out?”

“There’s nothing you could say that would change my mind,” Aizawa scoffs before turning back to you. “You! Come quietly or I will use force.”

‘Don’t say kinky. Don’t say kinky,’ you think as you follow Hitoshi and Aizawa back down the fire escape to the apartment. Aizawa wraps his scarf around your torso and hands, his eyes glowing red, before letting you sit on the couch.

“Well, this is it for me,” you chuckle sadly.

Hitoshi pulls Aizawa aside. “Dad, just listen to me.” But the older man shoves his hand off his arm.

“What is your problem? You’ve never had an issue with villains before.”

“She’s different! And stop calling her a villain.”

Hizashi rounds the couch and examines you. “Nice boots.”

“Thanks, got them on sale,” you lie.

Eri stands in the corner, holding Whiskey like a baby. The cat meows in your direction, wiggling out of her hold and trotting towards you. He jumps on your lap and kneads your thighs before flopping on his back.

“Come back, kitty! She’s…dangerous? He knows you?”

“He’s my cat,” you tell her.

Eri looks at Hitoshi for answers.

Hizashi folds his arms. “What do you mean, your cat? Toshi, what the hell is going on?” he questions.

“Dad, you said a bad word!” Eri calls out.

“Not now, sweetie.”

You groan. “Okay, since I’m here. Hitoshi and I have a thing going. There, I said it.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean, thing?”

“Ask him,” you jut your chin at Hitoshi.

“Explain. Now.”

“Don’t get mad, okay? We made an agreement after I spotted her about two months ago.”

“How long have you been lying to me?!” Aizawa yells at him.

“……a week after I got the assignment?”

“I should strangle you. Are you crazy?! Do you know how much trouble you could get in for harboring a villain?”

“Oh, for God’s sake! I’m not a villain! I never hurt anybody!” you roll your eyes. “I haven’t even robbed anything in like three weeks but I have a good reason.”

Aizawa points at you. “You, shut up. Hitoshi, you’re in so much trouble it’s ridiculous.”

“For taking in a woman who was just trying to make ends meet and take care of her sister? Sure. I’m in trouble for being a hero.”

Hizashi hums. “Wait, let’s hear her out then.”

“Zashi!”

“Oh, thank god. Someone who’ll listen to me!” you sigh. “I know how shitty this looks, but it was for a good reason! My parents died in a villain attack, so it’s just me and my sister and I know stealing is wrong but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Then why didn’t you get a job?” Hizashi asks.

“I did! You just got me fired because of your stupid raid yesterday! Do you ever think about what happens to the people affected after you “save the day”? No. You just consider them unnecessary casualties and go on with your life! Me barely making a dent in the economy isn’t gonna hurt anybody, and it shouldn’t classify me as a villain! I’m a petty thief at best.”

“She’s right….” Hizashi mumbles, thinking back to all the times he’s used his quirk in areas surrounded by civilians. “My quirk incapacitates the people around when I scream…. Oh my god, how many people have I disabled?!”

“Hizashi, not now. I’m taking you to the police station.”

You sniffle. “Fine, whatever. At least take care of my sister and Whiskey while I’m in jail.”

Hitoshi, feeling defeated, sits next to you and rubs your back. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”

“What about Whiskey?”

“I’ll watch over him.” He kisses your temple.

“Are you two dating?” Eri asks.

“Um, we never really….” “I don’t think...” you both mumble simultaneously.

“You can’t be serious,” Aizawa deadpans, rubbing his dry eyes.

“I think it’s sweet,” Hizashi grins. “‘bout time he settled down.”

Hitoshi blushes. “Oh my god.”

“Are we really going to arrest her, Shota? Petty theft isn’t that severe a charge, and it was for a good cause.”

“Daddy? Please don’t arrest the nice lady,” Eri begs, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Eri…not the eyes. Ugh, fine. But, there’s still some conditions.” He unties you and wraps his scarf back around his neck. “First, you’re gonna pay back every cent you ever stole.”

“Can’t do that,” you shrug. “Money went to my sister, rent, and food for this fat munchkin.”

Whiskey mewls in your lap and nuzzles your stomach.

“I know, I didn’t finish. Your quirk is useful, find some support work or something suited for it.”

You perk up. “Really?! Oh my god! But I’m still wanted.”

“Hmm, I’m sure Izuku can help with that. Don’t make me regret this. You’re still coming to the agency so we can register you.”

“Deku won’t help us,” Hitoshi mumbles. “We tried.”

Hizashi takes out his phone. “He will for his old teachers. Don’t worry, girlie, you’ll be fine.”

“Is he always this excited?” you whisper to Hitoshi while rubbing your wrists.

“He’s actually calmed down over the years,” he jokes. “But hey, you’re pardoned! That’s awesome!”

“Not yet,” Aizawa speaks up, ruining the moment. “Let’s go to the agency, He and Bakugou will meet us there because you’ll need both the number one and two to sign off.”

“...is jail still an option?”

“Y/n!” Hitoshi snaps.

“Ugh, fine.”

“—leather boots kind of chafe my calves to be honest.”

Hizashi snorts. “I know exactly how you feel, I prefer pleather. Feel my jacket.”

You touch the fabric. “Oohh, soft. I like it.”

“I can take you to the best spots.”

“Okay, no.” Hitoshi pushes you forward down the hallway. “You’re not allowed to go out with my dad.”

“But he likes me! So does your sister! She’s adorable by the way.”

“You’re not hanging out with my family. Let’s go.”

Izuku and Katsuki are waiting in Aizawa’s office when you enter. Izuku is thumbing through a magazine, and Katsuki is texting on his phone. When Izuku sees Aizawa, he puts away the magazine, stands, and bows slightly.

“Eraserhead, good afternoon.”

“You don’t have to use my hero name, Midoriya.”

“Oh right, sorry.” He sees you. “Oh….it’s you. I mean, I’ve never seen her before!”

Hitoshi snickers. “Relax, Deku, cat’s out of the bag.”

Katsuki grumbles something under his breath before also standing to bow. “The fuck did you call us here for?”

“Charming as ever, Bakugou,” Aizawa deadpans, unphased by his former student's attitude. “An official pardon for Hitoshi’s villain girlfriend.”

“I’m not a villain!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. She’s agreed to atone for her crimes and work off her debt in the support system.”

Katsuki chortles. “Of course, you’d be dating a villain, Insomniac.”

“I’m not—oh whatever, I don’t even care,” you huff.

Hizashi puts his arm over your shoulder. “Her quirk is awesome. She could be a lot of help.”

“Send her to that crazy support chick Deku teamed up with in the first year,” Katsuki snickers.

“Actually,” Aizawa starts. “A little birdie told me that you’ve got space for an extra mechanic in your agency. Meet your new mechanic.”

“I still think jail’s a better option,” you mumble.

“I’ll send you there on a stretcher if you don’t shut up,” Katsuki growls.

“You wanna try me, you overgrown feral pomeranian?! Just because you’re a hero doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you up!”

“Let’s go then!”

“You’re not fighting your boss,” Hitoshi warns you.

“Why—” you growl before Hitoshi uses his quirk on you and pulls your stiff body back.

“No.” He reprimands you before releasing you.

“Stop doing that,” you grumble.

“Stop being a brat.”

“Ew,” Katsuki cringes.

Aizawa sighs. “Anyway, the two of you will be working together, and half of her salary will be put back into government funding until it’s paid off.”

“How much do I get paid?”

“Averagely….a million yen a month,”

You choke at the number. “Holy shit! I don’t think I’ve ever even thought of that number! Oh, I can buy so much hair stuff.”

“God you’re just like Pinky….” Katsuki groans. “Fine, but it’s not gonna be easy. You better not fuck up my gear.”

“You’re explosive over every little thing, and I could take out your main gear with a literal flick of my wrist. You don’t scare me.”

Hizashi chuckles. “I like your girlfriend, Toshi. But you did steal way more than you’re going to make, so this is fair.”’

Izuku finally speaks up. “We’ll draw up the paperwork, Kaachan?”

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with and go. I have somewhere to be.”

“If you’re going to meet with Iwa, tell her I’m free this weekend.”

Katsuki growls and stomps out of the office with Izuku not too far behind him.

You squeal in delight and jump onto Hitoshi hugging him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m free! I can’t wait to tell my sister. Thank you Toshi.”

Without thinking, you pull Hitoshi in for a thank you kiss, not minding the three people awkwardly standing there.

Hearing soft giggling, you pull away as Eri grins at you and Hitoshi. At the same time, Hizashi stares at Hitoshi with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look while Aizawa shakes his head and sighs.

“Not your girlfriend, right….” Hizashi snickers.

Hitoshi blushes and takes your hand. “We’re leaving.”

“It was nice meeting you!” You call back as you're dragged out of the room.

On the way back to the apartment, you walk alongside Hitoshi, sighing happily because you don’t have to worry about being arrested anymore.

“It feels like a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel sooooo much better now.”

“Of course you are,” Hitoshi smiles.

After you’re about a block away from Hitoshi’s apartment, a slight awkward tension starts to form as you haven't spoken to each other.

“Can I say something?” “Can I ask you something?”

The two of you talk over each other for a bit until you both laugh

“You can go first,” you tell him.

“I want you to move in with me. I’ve gotten used to you and Whiskey being nearby and I like it. Sharing my place with you and waking up with you by my side and Whiskey yelling at us so he can get food. I like it. I like you,” he rambles. “You don’t have to but if you’d want we can go on a date, if you want. Like a restaurant or a park. Whatever you want. You can say no, and I won’t bother you again if you do.”

“Toshi, Toshi, you’re rambling. Breathe.” You laugh. “I like it and you too. It’s been nice but…am I just moving in as your sub, friend or something else?”

“As my sub, and maybe as my girlfriend?” he mumbles, looking at you.

Your cheeks heat up. “Yeah, that sounds…cool or whatever. Boyfriend.”

Hitoshi smiles, and if you look close enough, you can see the faintest shade of pink on his cheeks. He pulls you in and kisses your temple, cheeks, and lips with a big smile.

It’s been a week since the official pardon from the number one and two. Your face was on the Saturday morning news to announce it, which kind of earned you the status of a fifteen-minute celebrity. But it’s nice knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

Standing in front of Ground Zero Agency, you sigh loudly. “Here I go.”

Hitoshi pats your head. “You’ll do great.”

“What if I mess up and stupid Bakugou does his Bakugou….thing.”

“He won’t blow you up, bunny, I promise. I won’t let him.

You make an unsure noise. “Okay. I’ll see you later then.”

��Call me at lunch, okay?”

A quick kiss later, and you’re walking through the automatic doors into the giant foyer. Walking up to the secretary, you state your name, and she lazily hands you a laminated sheet. “These are all the floors and departments. You’re here.” She points at the bottom of the paper, labeled ‘mechanics and support’.

“Oh….thanks? How do I get there?”

“First, head to the top floor to check in with Dynamight, then he’ll fill you in on everything. Elevator’s over there,” she drones.

You hike your backpack up your shoulder and walk to the elevator, pressing the top floor button. Looking at the paper, you try to memorize all the locations and names, but there are just so many!

The elevator dings, and you follow the mini-map to the last door at the end of the hallway, knocking a few times.

When you hear a gruff yet out of breath ‘come in,’ you open the door and fight back a snicker. “You alright, Dynamight?” you smirk.

“None of your business. Did the lady at the front desk give you the paper?”

“Yup. Hi Iwa.”

‘Hi.’ the light-brown-skinned woman signs. ‘This is my cue to leave.’ She pecks Katsuki on his pink cheek and scurries past you into the hallway.

“Your face is covered in lip gloss,” you chuckle.

Katsuki wipes his cheeks with his costume sleeve. “Mind your fucking business!”

“You act like I don’t know you’re dating my friend. Now shut up and show me where I’m working.”

He begrudgingly gets up from behind the desk. “Follow me.”

He takes you back to the elevator, awkwardly silent. You see the purple bruises on his neck and stifle your laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh, whatever. So you’re gonna be with Hatsume for the next month so she’ll show you the ropes.”

“Who?”

The doors to the workroom open and reveal a pink-haired woman throwing parts around. “Where is it? Where is it?!”

“Oi!”

She lifts her head from the bin and stares at you. “Is this her?! Oh my gosh I’m soooo excited to meet you!”

You cringe. “Bakugou you can’t be serious.”

He shoves you forward. “Welcome aboard.”

Hatsume grabs your arm. “Let me show you my babies! All six hundred and forty of them.”

“Six hundred forty?! Don’t leave me here!”

Bakugou shrugs, pressing the button. “If you stall the elevator, I'll arrest you.”

“You can’t arrest me cause I'm pardoned, you jackass!”

He flips you the bird, and the doors close.

Hitoshi checks the clock on his wall: two minutes to lunchtime. Because of the whole fiasco, he’s been stuck on desk duty indefinitely, and honestly….totally worth it. He’s got the sweetest roommate/sub/girlfriend ever and a new pet cat. He stretches in his chair and sips on the iced coffee he got half an hour ago. Signing off on one more police report, he’s startled by a thud behind him. The chair is swiveled around, and he yelps when you grab his collar. “I have had the worst day.”

“…how did you get in?”

“How else?”

He glances behind you at the open window. “You’re allowed to come in through the front door, you know that right?”

“This is more fun. I hate this job, Hitoshi.”

He takes your hands off his collar. “You haven’t even finished the first day. Wait…the agency is on the other side of town. How did you get here so fast?”

“Stop asking questions,” you groan and sit on the desk. “Bakugou is a dick! He sent me to this…insane chick to teach me about support gear but she spent half the time showing me all these stupid gadgets. If I have to hear about circuits one more time I’m going to kill myself in front of her.”

“Pink hair? Weird eyes like targets?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Hatsume. You get used to her.” He chuckles as he pats your thigh. “What are you wearing?”

“I dunno, Hatsume gave it to me. She talks a lot, but she did teach me something cool,” you smile. “I’ll show you tonight.”

“Is it a sex thing?”

“No! You’re so embarrassing, oh my god.”

“My bad,” he snickers. “So, how long are you on lunch?”

“Bakugou said don’t stay out for too long but I’m taking two hours to do what I want before going back to Hatsume’s rambling. I deserve it.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“Is spending time with my new boyfriend on the table?” You smile, sitting on his desk, kicking your legs.

Hitoshi gets up, locks his door, turns the window one way, and starts undoing his belt. “My dad usually comes up here in thirty minutes.”

You start unbuttoning the baggy overalls.“Plenty of time for us to have some fun.”

“How do you want me, sir?”

“Sit on the chair.”

“You wanna reverse what we did last time? Kinky.” You say as you stand up and let the overalls fall into the floor, leaving you in your comfy cotton bra and boy shorts. “Go easy on me, I still have to walk back.”

“You could just do your little disappearing act and you’ll be fine, won’t you?”

“I guess.”

You were not fine. After about ten minutes of Hitoshi eating you out and edging you multiple times, you shuddered as he finally let you cum.

Your thighs hurt from being held open so long, but whenever you try and close them, Hitoshi forces them back open.

“Keep them open, bunny.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, grip tightening with every harsh slap of his hips on the back of your thighs. The leather of his chair was soaked with your juices, making the material stick uncomfortably to your ass.

He bends his knees slightly, unintentionally changing the angle, the tip of his dick hitting deeper in your over-sensitive walls.

“Fuck, Toshi, please—“

He cuts you off with a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck to make you lightheaded.

“Shut up, bunny,” he growls, squeezing your thigh with the other hand in warning.

Managing a frown, you reach up and smack him across the face in defiance. It does nothing except make his thrusts harder and deeper.

“Try that shit again and you won’t cum for a month.”

“If I don’t, you don’t either, sir,” you mock him.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he glares.

“Try. Me.”

When he kisses you again, you hold him close to moan and whine against his lips. Easing one hand from its grip on his hair, you move it down to play with your poor neglected clit.

“Aht, aht, what the fuck do you think your d-doing, bunny?” Hitoshi stutters, eyes pinching shut at the sudden clench of your pussy. He pushes your legs wider, draping your knees over the armrests.

“Wanna cum, sir,” you shudder. “Please, Toshi~.”

“You want me to fill you up, bunny?”

You nod desperately, “deeper,” you moan, arms creeping around his bare shoulders, the spandex top half of his hero suit long shed away and laying somewhere on the floor.

Where your bodies connect is a sloppy, warm mess, and loud, wet slap, slap, slap he’s sure the poor intern in the office below his could hear.

The roof of his cock grinds up against a sensitive, needy spot inside you, and if Hitoshi wasn’t so lost in the sauce, he’d have covered your mouth to shush your loud keens. Some of the light fixtures above you squeak, and the metal paperweight on his desk gets a small dent from your quirk.

“Close,” He pants, letting his grip ease off one leg. “Fuck, bunny. Gonna cum, baby,” he hisses, eyebrows drawn close as he looks down at the mess of glossy, filthy white smeared across where the both of you meet. “You want it?”

“Yes,” you’re breathless, and you can’t seem to lift your eyes all the way open for the life of you. “God, yes. Please.”

With a final pound, he pushes himself into you and empties his aching balls in the warm gooeyness of your pussy, legs threatening to give out.

The feeling sends you over the edge, too, your pussy clenching rhythmically around him in an effort to milk him for all he’s got. You sigh happily at the feeling, watching his toned stomach flex and roll with each wave of his orgasm. When his body relaxes, you cup the back of his head and pull him in for a kiss, smooching his flushed nose.

“Was it good?” He sounds almost shy.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Really good.”

He pulls out, and you feel a big glob of cum squeeze out of you, making your face burn in embarrassment. Hitoshi cleans you both up with the wet wipes he keeps in his desk, which was supposed to be for food incidents.

“Oh my legs,” You groan when you finally stand up and stretch. Hitoshi hands you your clothes, chuckling at the overalls.

“They look horrible.”

You snatch them back. “I’ll customize them tonight. Now I’m starving.”

Hitoshi presses the intercom on his desk. “Mai can you please bring me lunch from the ramen shop down the street. I’d like the special.”

‘Yes sir. Would your guest like some too?’

You freeze halfway through putting on the overalls. Hitoshi flushes deep pink. “Uhhhh—”

‘I’ll take that as a yes. Eraserhead said I should tell you to report to his office when you’re done. Both of you.’

Hitoshi mumbles a thanks and takes his finger off the button.

“Do you think a lot of people heard that?” you mumble.

“If my dad heard it then yeah…a lot of people did.”

“I’m going out the window then. I’m sorry in advance.” You open the window and shimmy the rest of your clothes on. “Tell your dad I said hi.”

“Don’t just leave me!”

“I’ll see you at home.” You jump out, using your quirk to slide down the building.

“You’re the worst!” Hitoshi yells after you.

“You too, MindFuck!”

Holding the wrapped-up Bento box, Hitoshi whistles tunelessly as he enters the Ground Zero Agency. Greeting some of the employees, he makes his way to the elevator, presses the underground floor button, and waits. Cheesy elevator music plays on a loop around him which he drowns out on the way down. When the silver doors to the workshop open, his tune dies down when something flies by his head and lodges itself into the elevator wall.

“What the hell?!” he yells.

A hand reaches from the side and yanks him into the room, “Kill me and your stupid boyfriend gets it!”

Hitoshi, thoroughly confused, sees you holding a saw blade, looking furious. Your expression softens when you see him. “Toshi! Hi.”

Bakugou holds him tighter. “Put the saw down!”

“You’re such a jackass! I worked hard on those gauntlets and you blew them up without a second thought!”

“Not my fault you make faulty support gear.”

“Faulty?! I’ll show you faulty.” You throw the saw blade at him, but they both duck in time.

“Oookay, I brought lunch,” Hitoshi announces, trying to change the subject.

“Yay!” You cheer, reaching to take the bento box. “And it’s all wrapped up in kitty cloth. Aww.”

“So I can go…?” Katsuki scoffs, noticing your mood change.

Turning to him, you keep your smile before dropping it as a dark shadow covers your face, “No.” Using your quirk, you raise some copper wires from the floor and wrap them around his neck. “I want compensation for three months of work. They were perfect, and now they’re gone. Hitoshi, back me up.”

“Did he do it on purpose?”

“He barged in here, acting like he owns the place—”

“I do!” Katsuki yells before the wire tightens around his neck. “Hrk!”

“—and berated me for half an hour before leaning on my workbench and knocking off my fucking work! Do you not understand how many sleepless nights I wasted making those shits you egotistical, self-entitled, son of a bitch?!”

Hitoshi nods, thinking about the late nights you worked recently. “It’s true. Sorry man. You owe her.”

You gesture to the busted gauntlets on the floor. “Now I have to start over.”

“I don’t owe you shit. You work for me.”

You scoff and take your phone out of your cargo pants, dialing a number. Holding it to your ear, you wait for the line to connect, staring Katsuki dead in the eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Iwa? Hi, I’m at Bakugou’s agency and need a favor.”

“Wait, let’s talk about this.”

“He fucked up three months of work…yes the gauntlets…no he’s not paying me back.” You hold the phone out. “She wants to talk to you.”

“...fuck.”

You ease up on his neck and hand him your phone.

“Hello? Hey, baby. I had to check on h—...she wasn’t listening and—”

While Iwa is shitting out Bakugou, you sit on the work table and unwrap the bento. “Oohh Onigiri and cat cookies, thanks babe.”

“Made them myself,” he smiles proudly. “You’re welcome.”

“The Onigiri looks like shit. I love it!” You take one out and nom on the top, pleasantly surprised to see a piece of umeboshi in the middle. “Still on desk duty?” You mumble around a mouthful.

“Yup, it’s the worst.”

“It’s been five months.”

“I know! Honestly, I think he’s extended it because he caught us in his office.”

“You’ll be back on the streets soon enough. Just don’t fall for your next assignment.” You tease and bite the Onigiri again.

“I won’t,” he chuckles, kissing your temple before turning back to Katsuki, who looks like an angry, kicked puppy with his ear to your phone.

“Poprocks, please,” Katsuki groans. “Yes. Okay. I’ll make dinner. Bye…I’m not saying it in front of these losers.” He turns to see you and Hitoshi watching him, you with a smirk on your face.

“...I love you too,” he mutters and hangs up before putting your phone on the workbench.

“So, what’d she say, lover boy?” you grin.

Katsuki grumbles and flips you off before stepping into the elevator. “Your money will be in your account tonight. Get back to work.”

“Wanna go out for dinner, Toshi?”

“Tomorrow. I’ve got something planned.”

“Oh, like what?”

“You’ll see,” he grins.

“Sweet,” you grin.

The following day Hitoshi made you take off work as he walked around Musutafu with your hand in his. “What are we doing today?”

“Well, I was thinking of finally taking you out on that surprise I mentioned. There’s a cat cafe nearby and after that maybe we could go get some rolled ice cream?”

“Sounds great.”

Stepping into the cat cafe, a brown-skinned woman at the counter greets you.

“Hi! Welcome to the Paw-fee House! My name is Hana, how can I help you?”

“Um, can I get a vanilla lavender coffee, a bag of cat treats and a kit kat frap? Anything else you want, bunny?”

“Um, a slice of coffee cake for him and ooh! What are those?” You point at the delicious-looking treat behind the glass.

“Neapolitan cookies. They’re really good.”

“I’ll take four.”

“3089 ¥” the cashier smiles. “You remind me of this biker I know. He orders the same kind of coffee and the coffee cake all the time. You kinda look like him too.”

“Small world,” Hitoshi chuckles. After handing the woman two 2,000¥ notes, he thanks Hana, tells her to keep the change, and takes the cat treat bag.

Walking over to the couch, he sits down and pats the space beside him. Sitting next to him, you snicker and kiss his cheek before hearing a trill next to you. “Well, aren’t you a cutie?” you coo, reaching out to let the cat smell you, only to whine when they walk over your lap and look at Hitoshi.

“Oh! Hey, little one,” he smiles as the mahogany brown tabby smells Hitoshi’s hand and nuzzles it as he pets them. “Aren’t you friendly?”

After about five minutes, Hitoshi kisses your temple and goes to pick up the order, leaving you with the cat treats. Watching the cats interact, you smile sadly until a gray cat makes his way towards you smelling your hand and looking at you with slight expectancy.

“Oh, you want a treat? Here you go,” you smile, taking a treat, leaving your hand flat so he can smell your hand before eating the treat. “Good kitty.”

The cat in question trills softly before patting your hand.

“You want another? Okay,” you giggle, letting the cat eat the treat before attempting to pet them. The cat hops off the seat and runs back behind the counter.

“Ugh, whatever,” you huff.

Hitoshi comes back and puts the stuff on the table. “Looks like the cats don’t like you.”

“Maybe cause they smell Whiskey on me?”

“Nah, you smell like motor oil….”

“Really?!” You smell your hands. “But I showered, what the fuck.”

Sighing softly, you feel a weight land near your head. Turning your head, you notice a black cat lying on the back of the couch. Reaching out for them, you smile when he sniffs your fingers and nuzzles your hand. “Toshi! Look, he likes me!”

“Maybe he just likes the smell of motor oil.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but he does,” The cashier says from the counter. “His name is Onyx. That friend I mentioned is a biker and he apparently likes the smell. He’s a weird little guy.”

“He’s adorable.” You scratch Onyx behind his ear, smiling when he purrs, leaning into your hand.

“He doesn’t like most people but I’m glad he ‘claimed’ you.”

“He’s very affectionate,” Hitoshi chuckles.

After finishing your food, you leave the cafe with your drinks. “I’ll be back for you soon, little one,” you tell Onyx as he follows you, then stops at the door, meowing at you.

After stopping for ice cream, you both head back home to relax. Hitoshi takes out a wrapped-up box from behind the couch and hands it to you.

“What’s this?”

“Just open it.”

You unwrap it and take out a pair of pink pajama pants, but they come with a twist.

“Is this Whiskey?” You start laughing. “Oh my god it is. You put his face on pants?”

“Yup. It’s two pairs for both of us.”

“We have to put them on right now. I’m totally gonna wear them at work to piss Bakugou off.”

You both strip your bottoms off and put on the pants. Yours are a little big but nothing too bad. You look at yourself in the mirror and laugh. “They’re so ugly. I love them!”

Whiskey sniffs your leg, squinting at the blown-up picture of his unimpressed face before walking away. Hitoshi stands behind you, resting his chin on your head. “We look stupid.”

“We look badass,” you chirp. “I’m never taking them off.”

“Ew they’re gonna stink.”

“Are you calling me stinky?” You turn around and poke his nose, giggling when he snaps his teeth, missing your fingers.

“What if I am?”

“Racially motivated.”

“Oh fuck off,” he groans and walks away to get a drink from the fridge.

“Nah, you love me. I’m gonna tell everyone at work you think black people stink.”

“No one will believe you.”

You sit on the couch and kick your feet up on the coffee table. “You know by now I'm very convincing.”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes as he grabbed a can of sparkling cider for himself and a coke for you. “Just drink this and shut up.” He tosses the can at you, and you catch it with ease, popping the tab open away from your face in case it sprays everywhere.

“Thanks, ‘toshi,” you snicker.

Slowly drinking the soda, you roll your eyes and pull the can away from your lips as Whiskey jumps onto your lap, flopping on his side.

“Hi, my little fatass. Did you miss me?”

‘Meow,’ he trills and bats his paws up at you.

“I guess you did. Mama’s little fluffy boy,’ you coo, scratching his stomach and playfully fight him with your hand. “I’m gonna getcha!”

The little devil plays with your hand peacefully until he decides to attack you.

“Why do you do that?!” You whine as he just jumps off to go bask in a sunny spot by the window.

“Hmph.”

Toshi cups your chin from behind and turns your head up so he can give you an upside-down kiss.

“What was that for?”

“Just because. Also, you’re cute when you get all pouty, bunny.”

“Shut up.”

“Hmmm, no. You’re my cute, pouty, bratty, little bunny.”

“That could still kick your ass.”

“Yes, that could still kick my ass,” he chuckles before kissing you again and sitting down.

Draping an arm over the back of the sofa, he rests his head on the back as you lay your head on his chest.

Running your hand along his shirt, you slip your hand underneath and gasp softly as you feel Hitoshi’s soft stomach. “You’re all squishy now.”

“I’ve been working out a lot less due to desk duty.”

“I like it. You’ve got a dad bod. Hot.”

“Really? You like it?”

“Yeah, you’re pudgy. I’ve always liked dad bods.” You pat his mini muffin top again.

“Maybe I’ll work out twice a week, so I still have a little pudge.”

“Ugh, yes please. Pat pat. Now you’re like Whiskey.”

Whiskey meows at the mention of his name, running over to jump in your lap again. “Hi, fatass number one.”

“Fatass number one?”

“You’re fatass number two. Pudgy tummy and a pudgy booty.”

“My ass isn’t pudgy,” he protests.

You snort loudly. “It is. You’re double-cheeked up. I see it all the time.”

He pinches your hip and chuckles when you yelp in pain, smacking his shoulder.

“That didn’t hurt,” he chuckles.

“Meanie.” “So what if I am? What’re you gonna do about it?” he grins, leaning in and looking down at you.

Pulling Hitoshi in for a kiss, your hands find their way into Hitoshi’s hair tugging at the strands with slight vigor as his hands make their way towards your hips, lifting you onto his lap, which made Whiskey jump off your lap again and crawl under the couch.

As you and Hitoshi make out, your attention gets pulled away when your phone starts to ring, the vibration pattern and ringtone making you aware of who’s calling.

“Dammit Iwa…” you mumble, pulling away from Hitoshi. Picking up the phone, you giggle as he leaves soft kisses from your cheek to the column of your neck. “Stooop.”

“No,” Hitoshi mumbles as you swipe left along the screen.

“Hello?” You listen to Iwa talk, stopping Hitoshi’s kisses. “Right now?”

“What?” Hitoshi mouths.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there soon.” You hang up and get off the couch to grab your backpack.

“Woah, where are you going?”

“Katsuki wants to see me for his prosthetic.”

“Prosthetic? Right, his arm….”

“I’ll be back later. Hopefully, it’ll just be a quick meeting,” you mumble.

“Alright, come back safe, okay? Don’t steal anything.”

“I won’t. Bye, I love you,” you smile before walking out the front door.

At the sound of the door closing, Whiskey peeks his head out from beneath the couch, trilling softly.

“Your mom will be back soon. How about we watch a movie while I feed you treats.”

Whiskey jumps on the couch and loafs beside Hitoshi, slowly blinking.

“I love you too.”

Ringing the bell to the penthouse, you tap your foot impatiently and hum a tune. Iwa answers the door looking tired with her favorite Sanrio hat on her head. “Hey.”

“Yo. You look exhausted.”

“I haven’t slept much lately….” she signs and lets you into the apartment.

“Hi, Bourbon,” you smile as the cat rubs against your legs. “How’s Bakugou holding up?”

“Getting better. Physical therapy is going well, but he wants to get back to work soon.”

Entering the living room, you roll your eyes when you see Hatsume examining Katsukis arm or what’s left of it. After a nasty fight with a villain a little over a month ago, his right arm was cut clean off at the elbow. Iwa was hysterical when it happened. The hospital staff was disrespectful towards her, not letting her see Katsuki when he was injured until his family allowed her to see him.

Katsuki looks up at him. He has some fading yellow and blue bruising around his eye and a new scar from his missing arm up to his neck. He frowns, dark eyebags prominent on his pale skin. “Took you long enough.”

“I was busy. Also, I had to take the bus cause someone won’t let me use my surfboard….”

“That thing is a hazard,” he grumbles. Iwa sits next to him on the couch, rubbing his good arm.

“That thing is the best thing I’ve ever created!” you scoff. “Why did you call me here anyways?”

Hatsume takes off her goggles. “I’m glad you asked!”

“No. Not again.”

“Listen! Bakugou needs a new prosthetic and in his words ‘he doesn’t know anyone better to fuckin’ make it.’”

“You said that about me? Aww, you do appreciate me,” you coo teasingly.

“Tch, whatever,” Katsuki grumbles. “Anyways, are you gonna make it or not?”

“Fine, I’ll do it. I hope I’m getting extra pay.”

“Fuck off.”

“You are,” Iwa tells you. “You and Hatsume will get a couple of months paid leave to work on it so you don’t get overworked.”

“Yes!” you grin.

“It’s going to be perfect!” Hatsume cheers. “Just like your old arm, quirk and all.”

“It better be.” “I have one condition,” you reply.

“What?”

“Hatsume doesn’t go overboard and all baby/invention crazy again. I’ll lose it if she rambles like that again about her inventions. No offense, though. They are incredible.”

“Thank you. And I’ll do my best to hold back.”

Iwa cups Katsuki’s cheek comfortingly. “You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

You give him a thumbs up. “Yup, you can count on us!”

Taglist: @hanayanetwork @shibuyawardnetwork @http-404-error-unknown @endeavours-jockstrap

#shinso x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #x black reader #bnha x black!reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou #bonnie.writes

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amimimi · 3 years

Text

a helping hand; reki kyan

request: “okay so we’re dating Reki and we go over to his house to hangout without him knowing so his mom opens the door but when we go up to his room we catch him masturbating to a photo of us?”

pairing: reki x gn!reader

warnings: 18+, masturbation, hand job, swearing, teasing (?), reki and reader are first years in college!

word count: 3.6k +

notes: i apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors! i cackled reading this request sjmcjsmsjsjd. i got too carried away with this...REKI STANS, COME IN HERE AND GET YO JUICE!

reki stood in front of his closet, debating on whether he should wear his swim trunks to the beach or wear his regular shorts.

if he wore his shorts...he’d have to change at the beach into his swim trunks and then BACK into his shorts. but if he wore his swim trunks...well it’d be less changing.

you and reki had planned out a beach trip for today. he had been looking forward to it all week, given how busy your schedules were. today was one of those rare days where you both had a full day to yourselves. he did feel a little nervous, given that your relationship was relatively new. of course, reki had known you practically all his life, given you two had been good friends. but your feelings for one another shifted from platonic to romantic over time and well, so did your relationship.

reki squats by his bed and resumes packing for the trip. he stuffs his backpack with his portable speaker, sun screen (which you forced him to start using), a beach towel...damn, what else?

he glances up at his bedside table to see the framed picture sticker of you and him in a photo booth. a smile tugging at his lips, reki reaches for the frame, examining the photo like he’s done a thousand times before.

the photo sticker consisted of three successive shots. the first shot featured you and reki with your arms wrapped around each other cheek-to-cheek, the both of you grinning so hard. reki can’t help to note how sweet—full, radiant you look. your whole face was lit up, your eyes reflecting the white light from the photo booth. he thinks you look like an angel.

reki’s eyes sweep to the second shot, which he remembers being taken. he had turned his face at the last moment and bitten your ear, wrapping his arms tighter around you when you shrieked. in the photo, his face is mostly obscured, only his slight smile visible from the side. the photo booth captured you mid-laughter, your facial expression caught somewhere between glee and shock, the sides of your eyes crinkled with laughter. reki remembers the way you flinched against him, remembers the your body shakes in his hold as you laughed. you had been sitting in his lap (you couldn’t tell from just looking at the picture) and he remembers you squirming, trying to get out of his hold as he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

reki is vaguely aware of the way you’re affecting his body, the front of his pants becoming uncomfortably tight. he quickly glances down to see, unsurprisingly, that his cock is beginning to bulge against the fabric of his pants. reki sighs, quickly checking to see if the door is shut behind him, before settling one of his hands over his erection. he slightly palms himself, his breath catching in the back of his throat.

reki knows his mom is the only one home today and that she was out in the garden doing work. he glances at his alarm clock, sighing in relief when he realized he had around one hour until you came over.

still gripping the framed photo in one hand, reki fumbled to unbuckle his belt, standing up and sitting on the side of his bed. as shimmies his pants down to his thighs, his cock, swollen and oozing precum, slaps up against his lower belly. he shakily wraps his hand around his shaft and thumbs his slit, sighing heavily as he redirects his attention back to the photograph.

reki pumps at his cock harshly as he focuses on the final shot, in which you were kissing him on his open mouth, both of your eyes shut. he remembers the feel of your tongue against his, hot and heavy in his mouth. a groan tumbles from reki’s lips as he lays back against his bed, his legs still hanging over the side. his eyes don’t stray once from you as he fists his cock, which was completely slick with his precum.

he notices in the final shot that your hand was placed against the back of his neck, remembering the sensation of you squeezing the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck. at that memory, his hip involuntarily bucks up from off the bed as he gives a choked sob.

he remembers the way your chest was pressed flushed against his, your breath fanning against his face. and after the photo had been taken, you had the nerve to pull away and giggle airily in his face, as though you hadn’t just tried to steal his breath.

“y/n” he moans raggedly. “y/n, fuck—”

he’s trembling now, jaw clenched as his grip on his cock tightens. reki twists his hand along his shaft, his eyes hyper focused on you smiling so sweetly in the first shot as he tries to imagine your hand pumping his dick— not his own calloused one.

“o-oh” reki whimpers, his belly tensing as he arches off the bed. the only sounds in his room were guttural groans that kept tumbling from out his mouth and the slick sound of him pumping at his cock.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

“damn it!” you hiss, rummaging through your tote as the prickly feeling of dread sets in your chest. you had forgotten your sunscreen.

your sunscreen.

you stand on the sidewalk outside of reki’s house, debating if you should run back to your place to pick it up. you were sure reki had some but you knew that he would tease you mercilessly for forgetting sunscreen. especially after you had prodded him for months to start incorporating in his routine.

it was entirely too hot to make the trip back home for sunscreen and you decided that if reki were to tease you, you’d simply bite him.

you walk in past the stone walls surrounding reki’s house and almost jump when you turn and see reki’s mom trimming at a hibiscus bush.

“oh!” you startle, quickly gathering yourself. “hello, mrs. kyan!”

reki’s mom, who looks equally as startled as you, grins at you before setting her clippers aside. “hello, y/n!” she smiles from underneath her sun hat, eyeing your tote bag and shorts. “oh, i almost forgot you and reki had a whole beach thing planned today!”

“yeah! i came a bit earlier than we planned, so i hope that’s okay with him” you gesture towards the house unconsciously, but reki’s mom waves you off.

“no, no that’s good! tell him to cut up some fruit for you both, you don’t want to get hungry later!” she instructs, and you can’t help but to giggle at the mental image of reki in an apron, diligently cutting up watermelon for you. “you can go in, the front door is open”

you thank her before heading towards the entrance of the house, slipping your shoes off before stepping in. the kyan residence seems unusually quiet this morning—no signs of any of reki’s younger sisters or even his grandmother. you walk into the hallway towards reki’s room when you hear your name shakily called out.

“y/n~”

you halt in your tracks, immediately recognizing reki’s voice. blinking, you stand still and wait for reki to speak again, maybe thinking that he was talking on the phone. until he says—no, moans your name again.

you almost choke. your reaction is caught between giddiness and complete shock. wait, wait why were you shocked? you’re dating him. of course he masturbates to you—you masturbate to him. and yet, something about standing outside his bedroom door, hearing himself jerk off to you is a strange, new feeling that coils in your stomach.

should you just, go in? or leave and come back? you felt a little guilty infringing on his privacy—

“ah, y/n, baby please—”

okay, that was fucking hot.

gently, you step closer to his door and twist the knob, slightly pushing the door open. your breath catches at the sight of reki, laying back against his bed as he desperately pumps his cock, gasping and panting. he’s holding something? you realize it’s a picture frame to his face as he moans your name again. oh, this boy was going to be the death of you.

you push the door open wider, and reki must’ve hear the hinges squeak this time because a gasp tears from his chest. he drops the frame beside him, quickly pushes himself up, and to his absolute mortification, sees you of all people standing in the doorway.

“y-y/n?” he stammers, his face blown red as he glances over to his alarm clock to see if he had mistaken the time. “what are you—” he realizes that his dick is still out, and hurriedly tries to pull his pants up. “—what are you doing here?”

“i...came early...” you manage to get out, still in awe at what you had just seen. reki doesn’t look up at you as he struggles with his pants, his ears burning red.

“i-i know that!” he hisses, mortified. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—had you heard him moaning your name? he groans and smacks his hand to his forehead. “did you...did you hear me?”

you stay silent, clutching your tote bag.

“...yes” you admit quietly and reki shoulders tense with humiliation. you lay your tote bag against the wall and rush over to sit beside reki on his bed. “no, no! don’t be embarrassed!”

“i’m sorry” reki manages to get out.

“no, i’m sorry!” you rush to get out, placing a hand on his thigh. “i heard you from outside the door and i knew you were...i should’ve come back later! you just sounded, so good”

reki blushes even harder, slowly dropping his hand from his face.

“you don’t...” reki hesitates and you kiss his cheek. “you don’t think i’m horn dog right?”

you snort at his choice of words, giggling as you rest your forehead against his shoulder. “oh my god, no, reki” you say and you feel reki’s shoulders sag with relief. “it’s not a big deal, we’re dating— i masturbate to you too!”

reki knows you’re trying to make him feel less embarrassed, but he feels himself blush straight down to his chest. he presses his hands back over his face.

“y/n...” reki mutters, digging his palms into his eyes making colors swirl behind his eyelids. embarrassment overwhelms him, but he’s reminded of how aroused he still is when his mind supplies him with the image of you masturbating to him; lying on your stomach, ass up as you fuck yourself on your fingers—writhing and mewling for him. “that’s, uh...”

“inappropriate?” you answer.

“uh, no—well, yes, but no, i mean it’s not inappropriate to me, but—” he cuts himself and looks up at you from his hands. you’re staring at him with pursed lip, looking slightly nervous. “we just, recently started dating... I wanna make a good impression on you. ”

“but we’ve been friends for years” you reply easily, smoothing reki’s hair back before adjusting his headband.

“no, i wanna make a good impression as your boyfriend” he says, gripping his knees with both his hands and staring straight ahead.

“i...i understand that, that’s a valid feeling. i just don’t want you to beat yourself up though” you say a little quieter, leaning against his arm as you study his side profile. you brush the back of your hand against his cheek. “i already knew you’d be a good boyfriend before i started dating you”

reki isn’t completely convinced, but he does feel a huge weight fall off his shoulders. he turns his face to yours, his nose brushing against your nose. you nod slightly and he nods back, earning a grin from you.

you reach around him to grab the picture frame he had placed haphazardly on his bed. examining the framed photo sticker, you coo and wrap an arm around reki’s neck.

“aww, you framed this?” you smile, bumping your forehead against his cheek. he nods, leaning into your touch. “this was at the festival last month, right?”

“yeah” he hums, content with the way you’re pressed against him.

“hmm, yeah you must’ve been really horny because i don’t even look hot in these pictures” you mutter and reki whines, falling back against his bed and bringing an arm up to cover his eyes.

“you look amazing in those photos, shut up!” he protests and you grin, setting the frame down beside you. your gaze settles back to his cock, taut against the front of his pants, noting that reki is still turned on.

“well, i’m here now” you supply with a mischievous smile, sitting up on your knees and crawling over to straddle reki’s lap. reki peeks at you from under his arm just as you palm his hard on.

“oh~” his moan catching in his throat, chest jumping. he hears you giggle and he pushes himself up on his elbows. “we don’t—you don’t have to”

“do you want me to?” you grin at him, eyes half-lidded as you continue to palm him through his pants, which he hadn’t even zipped up all the in the rush to conceal himself. “i need an answer, babe”

reki can hardly think you knead your palm against his cock, which was throbbing painfully. “i, ah, mmm—” he babbles, his arms threatening to give out from under him.

“yes or no, reki” you ask, insistent for an answer.

“yeah, yes—please” reki sighs, his voice catching as he feels you work at unbuttoning his pants. you sit up on your knees to shimmy reki’s pants down to right around his lower thigh. his cock springs up, slightly sticky from earlier as a precum beads at his slit. he gazes up at you expectantly, panting slightly through his mouth as he rests back on his elbows.

you wrap your fingers around reki’s shaft, rubbing your thumb over his slit and reki keens—rutting into your hand.

“geez, what’s got you so worked up?” you’re half-teasing as you continue to swirl your thumb around the head. you eye reki, still pushed up on his elbows as his chest heaves. he only whimpers, shutting his eyes and lolling his head to the side.

“oh, wait” you frown, glancing towards the door to find that it half open. you had forgotten to shut it on your way in. “the door is still open...lemme go—”

“no, hng, don’t, i’ll be quiet” reki practically begs when he feels your grip loosen. you blink at him, surprised and heavily aroused at how needy reki sounded.

quickly, you try to calculate the time in between now and when reki’s mom might be finished gardening. she had barely started trimming those hibiscus bushes when you first saw her, there was no way she’d be done in the next ten minutes—could she? you’re sure you could get reki to cum in ten minutes—

suddenly, reki bucks up into your hand, fisting the sheets under him. “y/n, please” he half sobs, as he looks up at you pleadingly

make that five minutes.

“okay, okay!” you whisper, tightening your grip around his cock, which was practically drooling. his t-shirt is hiked up, slightly revealing his toned belly. you place your other hand on his lower stomach and gently massage his skin in an attempt to soothe him from his frenzied state.

it only slightly works. reki’s mind is reeling with how quickly his desperation heightened within the span of a couple minutes. he doesn’t know how and he doesn’t care to know. all he knows is that he’s yearning—no, aching for you to make him feel good. he’s delirious off of you, he realizes, and you didn’t even have to try. he wants you in every way possible.

your pace quickens as you twist your hand alongside reki’s shaft. his thighs spasm under you as he moans your name between harsh pants. you remove your other hand from off his belly, opting to support your weight as you shift forward on your knees.

still rapidly pumping his cock, you lean in and reki pushes himself up higher on his elbows to kiss you greedily. you pull back, pursing your lips into a smile as reki whines.

“what were you thinking about?” you purr, slowing down your strokes around reki’s cock. you squeezed your fingers around his head, dripping and sensitive, and reki moans so prettily. “when you were jerking off to me in that picture, what were you thinking about?”

reki struggles to form a coherent sentence as he attempts to bite back the wine that forms in his throat.

“you” reki manages shakily as he watches your hand stroke firmly up and down his cock. he’s transfixed by the way your hand is dewy with his precum, glistening as it continues to twist around the head of his cock.

“you gotta be a bit more specific, baby” you smile teasingly and he wants to scream. there was no way you actually expected him to form coherent sentences in his state—he knew that.

“the way you kissed me and how pretty you—oh, fuck, you looked” reki hiccups, chest jumping with pleasure as you give his cock a particularly firm tug. “you look so good, all the time. ‘love you”

“i love you too, angel” you sigh before leaning in again to give him a sloppy kiss, stroking his cock with more force. “you’re so good for me”

“gonna cum” reki whines, his cock twitching in your hold. his body lurched forward, slamming his forehead against yours. you lean into him, your pace never wavering as you steal a kiss.

“better hurry” you murmur against his lips, eyes flirting to his opened bed room door. reki only whines, squeezing his eyes shut as he curls forward. he feels his lower stomach and thighs stiffen as his mouth garbles around a guttural moan.

without warning, reki’s chest spasms repeatedly and he can only sob as thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, spilling down your hand and on his stomach, the muscles flexing and un-flexing as his orgasm washes over him. you kiss reki through his orgasm as he convulses against you.

you’re still milking his cock as reki puffs through the aftershock of his orgasm. he kicks his legs out as you continue to glide your fist along his shaft, shuddering at the slight overstimulation.

whimpering, reki weakly swats at your hand and you get the hint, easing your hand away. “you good?” you ask as reki trembles, struggling to keep himself up on his elbows.

“so good” he hums, blissed out as warmth stirs in his chest. reki hears you giggle through his haze and he blinks up at you.

you kiss him before pulling away with an obnoxiously loud smack. “your mom said you have to cut up some fruit for us” you smile, sitting back on his lap. reki furrows his brow in confusion, trying to wrap his brain around what you just said.

“who? what?” he croaks.

“when i came in, your mom said that we should take fruit so we don’t hungry at the beach” you reply, lifting up your hand, still sticky with reki’s cum, to examine it. reki slightly flushes as you scrutinize the mess he made on your hand.

“o-oh, what kinda fruit did you want to bring then?” reki asks, as you continue to examine your hand. a bit of his cum begins to drip down your forearm and without even thinking, you lick up his essence before it can drip any further.

“whatever you have, really. watermelon sounds kinda nice—” you stop when you glance up and see the flabbergasted look on reki’s face. you blink, confused. “do you not like watermelon?”

“did you just lick my cum?” he asks, barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with shock.

“yes?” you reply, eyeing the mess on your hand. “what? i’ve sucked your dick before”

“oh” he frowns. “i guess you have...does it...taste bad?”

to his relief, you shake your head. “do you wanna try?” you offer, holding out your hand to his face. reki blinks at your hand, then back at you. he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“....maybe” he mutters. you extend your index finger, where a glob of his cum had collected. hesitantly, reki pokes his tongue out and kitten licks along your index finger. he pulls back, smacking his mouth experimentally.

“well?” you ask expectantly, as if you’re making him taste test a homemade stew. reki cocks his head to side and purses his lip.

“a little salty, i guess” he mumbles, looking back at you to see that’s grinning at him. “what?”

“nothing, you’re really hot” you sigh, planting a kiss on the side of mouth before sliding off his lap. “i’m gonna wash my hand and grab you a towel!”

you disappear from out his room and reki hears the bathroom faucet run. he slumps back against his bed, sighing through his nose.

suddenly, reki hears the front door open and shut. he sits up, heart rate suddenly quickening as he strains to hear anymore noise. he hears your muffled voice and, oh my god, his mom’s voice.

someone pushes his door open and he squeaks, attempting to to cover himself, only to see you holding a wet towel. you scurry into his room and toss him the towel. reki just barely catches it as you’re already scrambling out of his room.

“clean up and change” you whisper before going to close the door behind you. you halt and stick your head in the room. “also, pack sunscreen because I forgot mine, love you!”

you shut the door behind you as reki moves to frantically wipe down his stomach and his crotch area. he hears his mom’s voice somewhere from outside his door.

“he still hasn’t cut up the fruit” she questions incredulously.

“he’s getting changed, but i can start right now and he’ll help out later” you reply easily and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes from his chest.

notes: ami says make men taste their own cum. i’m writing a joe drabble and some haikyuu head canons currently so lemme get back to it

#sk8 the infinity x reader #reki x reader #reki kyan x reader #reki smut #minors dni #sk8 the infinity x y/n #sk8 the infinity smut #smut

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

400 LUX

Sherlock wants to cut things off but the reader thinks he should really think it over. Or, the one where Sherlock isn’t one for saying “I love you”, but he has always offered you a sword. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You could hear the water running in the bathroom as you slipped down the hall to make coffee, your phone in one hand pressed against your ear as Mary went on and on about all the things that you two needed to do today and the other hand held your shear kit that you barely used. It was a few days before the wedding and things were in full swing for you as Mary’s bridesmaid and Sherlock as the best man. Mary, God bless her, was having a breakdown every other day and it was all you could do to not to set her off by picking the red velvet with buttercream over the vanilla cupcakes.

“— and we need to go by the florist today, too, and I probably should stop by and speak to the DJ... and John, he’s not worried about any of it! He’s asking for tea and biscuits as if I’m not already balancing the most important day of our lives!” Mary was talking at a mile a minute and as she continued the never ending list of tasks she had set for the two of you, you began situating all of your supplies to cut Sherlock’s hair. He had insisted you do it before the wedding, and not even your lack of experience was enough to convince him to just go to the shop with John. Sherlock’s hair was something he took very seriously so you were unsure as to why he’d even ask you to do this.

Speaking of the devil, you rounded the hallway and started for the bathroom.

“One second Mare.” She didn’t miss a beat and continued right on talking once you muted her, and you wondered if this is how John felt talking to Sherlock. Knocking on the door before walking in, you fought through the steam to find a comb on the counter.

“If we’re going to be in here at the same time, you might as well join me.” Sherlock’s head popped out from behind the shower curtain, his hair and face sudsed up and glistening from the water. The longer you realized you had actually been thinking about taking him up on his offer, the quicker you knew that you had to get back to your task at hand and get out of the line of fire. You pulled open some of the drawers and rummaged through them.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d love that.” Hoping that the steam was thick enough to hide your growing blush, you turned back to the vanity and opened the mirror cabinet. “I need you to hurry up. Mary’s having a-“

“You would, too.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and that was enough to make you roll your eyes. Luckily for you, the mirror door was hiding your face from his prying eyes. Smug and darling as always, your man was. You snuck a peek at him and realized he’d moved back from the curtain and resumed washing his hair.

“Seriously, Mary will probably have a heart attack if I don’t leave within the hour. If you love me, five minutes.” You shut the cabinet and slipped out of the room to finally return to your phone call.

“Sorry M, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sherlock is being Sherlock.”

“Now you’re really starting to sound like John. How’s his suit fit? Does he need any adjustments? That reminds me, I should call the tailor! Be a doll and bring something to eat on the way? Love you!” With that she hung up, leaving you in the dust trying to comprehend if she actually was speaking words or Simlish.

—

“Four minutes, fourteen seconds.”

You turned back to him while you gestured for him to sit down so you could wrap the towel around his shoulders. His hair was still pretty wet so you wouldn’t have to spray it much.

“What are you talking about?”

Sherlock only smiled to himself in response, and you figured he’d just moved on from that conversation already. Combing out small sections of his hair and clipping the rest up, you asked again.

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I really don’t mind going to your usual stylist with you. I don’t want to mess you up for the wedding.”

“Y/N, I told you already, if I’ve asked you to do it it’s because I want for you to do it. It’s only just a trim. Come on with it.

So you began at that, snipping away little by little. You had cut John’s hair for him a few times right before a date but his was much easier than Sherlock’s and it grew like a weed so even if you did mess up, his date could hardly tell. You told Sherlock all about your plans with Mary for the day and he seemed to be listening intently but you could tell his mind was wandering. You knew him better than you knew yourself.

Moving to stand in between his legs to trim his face framing pieces, you asked him about his plans for the day.

“Hm,” he started, resting his fingers tips lightly on your hips in front of him, tapping away as he thought out his answer. “Mycroft insists he has words for me, despite my telling him to keep them to himself, so I suppose I’ll be seeing him at some point. John is coming here to talk wedding...” which you were almost certain really meant a case, “and I want to tell Mrs. Hudson you’ve decided to give up your flat entirely to live here.”

You had just finished trimming his hair when he had said that and luckily so because you were sure you would have chopped off a lot more than needed being caught by surprise like that. Running your fingers through his hair to be sure you didn’t miss any sections, you contemplated what exactly was happening between you. You had never really brought up completely moving in even though it was true that you practically already did. You hadn’t slept in your own bed in months because you always chose the opportunity to sleep with Sherlock. Moving in seemed like a dream but you always had it in the back of your mind that one day Sherlock would have a change of heart and change his mind on whatever the two of you were, and you didn’t want to be without if that happened.

When he realized you still hadn’t replied to his request, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at you. “Is there really that much to think about? John said you’d say yes if I made it clear I was the one asking you to. Had I not done that?”

You couldn’t help but smile, because seriously, what could you have possibly done to deserve the opportunity to love someone as... well, Sherlock, as Sherlock. He was everything everyone said he was, but he had shown you willingly that he was also so much more. You’d choose the life with him, whether it was one of a house and kids and a white picket fence or if it was one that consisted of running around London in the rain because Sherlock swore he saw something suspicious and the only viable option was to run after it. You would choose him. Every single time.

Even with all of your declarations of love, you two had never said talked about the fact that you were definitely exclusively dating which often hindered a conversation of the future. You had told him you loved him more times than you could count but he had never said it back and you were okay with that. He didn’t have to reciprocate it for it to be true. But, it did leave room for doubt that this might not always be what Sherlock chooses.

You thought of all the ways you could bring it it up and realized that straightforwardly was the only way to go. You brought your hands from his hair to hold his face and rubbed your thumbs in slow circles and he relaxed on the spot. He was putty in your hands, as much as he hated to admit it.

“I just don’t want you to feel stuck with me. It’s a big step. And if it ends up making you miserable, I just- I don’t know. I don’t want to be the one to make you miserable.” Your voice was soft as you spoke and you realized that with Sherlock’s bangs being much shorter now, you got to see more of his pretty face. Although, currently, it was contorted as he worked through trying to comprehend what you were saying to him. Blinking away at you for what seemed like forever, Sherlock cleared his throat and took your hands from his face and into his own instead.

“I’m... not sure I understand. I don’t mean to be rude at your expense but if I wanted to leave you, I would. I could rather easily. Just as easily as you could leave me. But you won’t. And I won’t... I’ve tried to show you in all the ways I know how. So would it not make sense for us to live together?”

It slowly started making sense for you and you could slap yourself for being so blind. Sherlock had let you take the lead in a lot of aspects in his life recently that you couldn’t explain what for. He urged you to pick out the next case he would work, allowed you to pick out his new microscope (Y/N, they’re the same color. Pick one. I don’t know Sherlock! I feel like this one is cool grey and this one is light grey, it makes a difference!), and now you were cutting his hair, the most important part of his appearance from his point of view. He trusted you to make the right choice every time and there really was no right choice, your choice was the right choice.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you phone began to ring with Mary’s picture posted on the screen.

“Shit, I’m so late! She’s seriously going to kill me.” Your gaze drifted from your phone to Sherlock who surprisingly patiently awaiting your answer. “Tell Mrs. Hudson as soon as John gets back from holiday that you two will start moving my stuff over. And make a little space for me in your closet, okay? I need more than just a few drawers.”

Sherlock smiled at you like you like he did when you called him brilliant and that was your highest honor to date.

You expected the usual slick remark but he simply said, “You’ll have what you want. Mary will be calling again in about 30 seconds. You should really be hailing a taxi right about now.”

And there he was, the Sherlock you wouldn’t change for the world. You wished you had time to tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine but alas, duty calls. You kiss him like you mean it- because you do, and rush off to your friend’s rescue but not without stopping in the doorway.

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes. But even more importantly than that, I trust you. I’ve had the time of my life fighting dragons with you and I’d happily spend the rest of my life doing it if you’d let me. It’s nice to know that you will. I just thought you’d like to know.”

Just like that, you turn his world upside down as you rush down the stairs, leaving him speechless. He thought his story was one that would be written about him and him alone and as sure as he used to be in that, he’d come to the realization that he was just as sure that two was better than one.

“And I, you.”

#bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x you #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock imagine #sherlock has feelings #sherlock headcanon #mary watson #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #luxwrites

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