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ditttiii · 4 years

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Brothers Conflict || 02.

Thrust into an already established family, you struggle to find your footing while dodging the advances of seven, incredibly good looking stepbrothers.

Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (reverse harem)

◈ CHAPTER TWO

WC: 3124

Warnings: Curse Words (sfw)

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There needs to be a limit, you think. A threshold level to how bad a day can go before it ends, or maybe you faint and are left craning into nothingness. Just something to tell you that this is as bad as it can possibly get for you.

You hear Seokjins' concerned voice get drowned by the much louder voice of your best friend, but you don't respond. You realise that you should get up, reassure everyone that you are okay, but you are starting to wonder if you can even salvage the day anymore.

The limit to how embarrassed I can be has hit a new high today.

Groaning and cursing every single god up there, you finally raise your face from the floor, bringing your hand up to scratch your cheeks and rub your eyes, as you purposefully avoid all the gazes that you can feel trained on you.

Wincing you scratch at the burn you feel on your chin from where your face had hit the carpet. The fall could have been a lot worse, but the rug had saved you from the worst of the burnt.

Saved, everything but your dignity that is.

"I am fine," You reassure everybody without looking at anybody; before you turn to Sunmi and squeeze her hand in silent reassurance. Her concerned eyes stay trained on your hunched figure, but at your small smile, she nods, sending a small worried smile back.

Sunmi has been your best friend since middle school. Your friendship blossomed the day she punched another girl in the school washroom for you, the girl; a bully was making fun of you for being a late bloomer, when Sunmi, your schools' resident queen-bee, swooped in like a raging goddess in all her angry glory and gave the girl a black eye.

You still think back to that day with fondness and a slight sense of wariness. Your petite, barbie doll of a best friend could pack quite the punch. It was a reassuring yet scary skill of hers.

Snapped out of your thoughts at the feel of a hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Seokjins’ concerned eyes peering into yours, and exhale out a heavy breath.

Okay, now it can't get any worse.

Maybe you shouldn't feel as reassured as you do with that thought, but you do. The realisation that you have already hit rock bottom when it comes to first impressions is, funnily enough, liberating to you.

At least now, I don't have to worry about if the pitch of my 'hello' is right or not.

Evidently, such frivolous solicitude was no longer a concern of yours. You have risen to higher grounds, where your first impression bar now ranges from psycho to batshit crazy.

Yep, that sounds about right.

A cough snaps you out of your thoughts, and you quickly rise to your feet, with a little help from Sunmi. In your peripheral vision, you see Seokjin’s hands hover uselessly in the air as he stops himself from reaching out to you. Clearly, your earlier responses to his touch had left an impression on him, one that was probably not all that great, you realise.

Wincing at both your embarrassment and the slight sting you feel, you finally swivel your gaze away from the floor and to the six men ahead of you, Seokjin still hovering worriedly by your side, like a concerned mother hen.

If you had any dignity left, you'd have laughed, but as it is—you are probably bordering on crazy, and you don't want to push it.

Not today.

"Umm," You start as your eyes lock with that of one of the brothers who is looking at you with concerned filled eyes and you quickly break your gaze away. Focusing at a point on the floor somewhere by his feet, you bow low and mumble out an "Annyeonghaseyo!"

The words feel foreign on your tongue, even though your best friend is Korean. While you don't live in Korea and aren't Korean, your new extended family is. You know that they know English and originally you had no plans of speaking Korean. But nerves shot, and performance pressure high, the slightly accented greeting tumbled out before you even fully realised what you were saying.

An awkward silence stretches on for a second too long, before the man whose feet you are drilling holes into with your gaze, is bowing and introducing himself.

"Ah, Annyeonghaseyo! I am Kim Namjoon, the fourth oldest brother or well the middle one," Here he flashes you a quick close-lipped smile, and your eyes automatically stray to his dimples.

‘Pretty’

While your eyes are still locked onto his dimples, utterly fascinated by their definition, he continues, "We have been waiting for you, it's a pleasure, to finally meet you Y/N-ssi!" His smile widens as he finishes his greeting, and you want to reply, but your eyes are, again, focused onto his dimples.

'So pretty.'

It's when Sunmi pinches your side subtly that you clear your thoughts, moving your gaze away as you smile back—a soft, genuine curl of your lips.

"Um, sorry I'm late, there was some traffic," Here you wave your hand in the air aimlessly before you realise what you are doing and force it down, biting your lip. "This is my best friend Sunmi, and um it's really nice, to finally be able to meet you all too!" You finish lamely. Your introduction, a mess of stutters and random flailing limbs, leaves your face feeling hotter by the second.

"Finally! We have been waiting to meet our cute little yeodongsaengie all day! I am Jung Hoseok, the third oldest and welcome to the family Y/n-ah!" Greets Hoseok, a bright megawatt smile overtaking his face, as he swoops in and gathers you in a hug. This time though you are ready and without a seconds delay, your hands wrap around Hoseok's back, as you awkwardly pat, unsure of his boundaries.

Hoseok though has no such concern, as his strong, warm hands wrap affectionately around your shoulders, pulling you closer and giving you a proper bear hug. Somehow it doesn't come as a surprise to you that Hoseok would be affectionate, something about his bright smile and sunny disposition had you feeling more comforted and reassured than awkward.

Surrounded by your now brother's warmth, you melt in his arms and for once enjoy the feeling of belonging in someone else's hold except Sunmis’.

"Did you have any problems coming here? I knew one of us should have come to pick you up instead." Hoseok continues, his eyes soft and concerned as they rake over you, keeping you at arm's length, as he checks you for any injuries, and a laugh almost slips out of you at his over the top concern.

"I am fine Hoseok ss—" You pause, hesitant to continue as you think of what you should address him as before you try again, "Hoseok-oppa?"

Your voice comes out soft, questioning and a little hesitant as you look up at Hoseok to see his reaction, but he's grinning. His smile somehow even brighter than it had been before, and then he's pulling you into another hug.

His arms wrapping around your shoulders and softly rocking you from side to side as he coos, "Aish, call me Hobi-oppa, Y/n-ah! That's what all the dongsaengies call me!"

You giggle as your limited Korean knowledge kicks in and you realise he's talking about his younger brothers. A groan echoed from behind him and in response a laugh booms out of Hoseok, as he finally loosens his hold.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he turns to Sunmi, and again introduces himself, Sunmi doing the same.

You watch the interaction with an unfamiliar almost, warm, feeling in your chest. Usually, it would be you introducing yourself to Sunmis' family at Christmas or family vacations for which you'd tag along; and your father was never really home enough to ever meet Sunmi.

So, to finally have someone call you family in front of your best friend, was a simple but strangely comforting thing, and you grin, feeling rapidly more at ease in your brothers embrace.

"Aish Hob-ah! Stop hogging our little yeodongsaeng, will you?" Jin jokingly reprimands, and you chuckle, your grip around Hoseok tightening as you lean into his side.

"Well, it's only fitting; I am going to be her favourite oppa, after all!" He jokes as his head tilts to look at you and he winks. His soft black hair slips low over his forehead, as his shimmery dark eyes sparkle from in between the gaps of his strands. And you smile softly, shaking your head fondly at his antics before you extract yourself from his embrace and move to introduce yourself to the rest of your stepbrothers.

"Min Yoongi, second oldest, Welcome to the family Y/n." You smile and nod, a small 'Thank you oppa,' slipping out as you shake Yoongi's hand. His palm is soft, and a little cold against yours, and your smile widens at the small grin he gives you, blonde locks messy and rumpled as he runs his hand through them.

Turning to look at the other three men in the room, you smile and bow as you greet them too. Your eyes rise when one of them steps forward, bowing to you, his cotton candy pink hair catching the light of the room and shining bright. But what gets your attention is his smile. Full lips curled into quite possibly the sweetest smile you have ever seen in your life, as his eyes turn into two crescent moons.

"Nice to finally meet you, little sister, I am Park Jimin the hyung of the maknaes'" He winks before continuing, "and the fifth oldest one. We have been waiting to meet you for a while now. Glad to have you be a part of our not so little family! It might be a bit overwhelming at times, but know that we are all delighted to have you here." He grins, and you let out a chuckle yourself, comforted and appreciative of his efforts at trying to make you feel more at ease.

"Thank you for welcoming me!I..uh am not the best at first impressions, but I promise I am not always such a clutz." You quip back and watch surprised, as Jimin throws his head back, eyes crinkling into those crescent moons again, as a laugh tumbles out of him. His hands rest on his chest, as he hunches over laughing and you smile, your gaze travelling to his palms and a snort slipping out when you realise his hands much like the rest of him are exceptionally pretty and delicate.

You aren't usually very self-conscious, but surrounded by so many ridiculously attractive people, the insecurity was starting to creep in.

Blessed men.

Shifting your gaze to the last two brothers, you smile, bowing a little as you greet them, but when only silence greets you back, your raise your head, eyes furrowed as you look up to see the last two of your seven step brothers looking at you with disinterest and maybe the slightest bit disdain?

A little more hesitant now, you smile at them again, but receive back even more silence.

An awkward silence stretches on for a while, as you take in their appearance. You already know the names of the youngest two, had painstakingly learned then a week ago when your father had informed you that you'd have to move in with your extended family.

Kim Taehyung, the one with crystal-like cerulean eyes and platinum blonde hair, that was almost silver. Long, messy strands that reached low and covered almost his entire eyes. His face so perfectly chiselled, it was like the gods personally took their time sculpting it, not a single flaw or blemish on his pale, smooth skin.

In any other situation, you'd have gaped and taken your time appreciating the fineness that was his face, but since those crystal blue eyes of his were glaring angry holes into your forehead, you decide not to.

Next time.

Snapping your eyes away from Taehyung; your gaze falls onto the last brother, Jeon Jungkook, the youngest in the family, at least before you came along.

For someone who was only a year older than you, his build was impressively large. Even from under the oversized loose tee he was wearing; you could see his broad shoulders. The t-shirt hugged his pectoral muscles before it loosened over the abbs. Jungkooks, from what you could only assume, abdomen was coiled and defined under the loose shirt he was wearing.

After a few more seconds of awkward silence during which you see Jimin hiss and glare at the duo from the side, you snap back to your senses. Clearing your throat, you twist onto your heels as you look back at Jimin, who stops mid hiss when your eyes catch his before he pushes his signature bright smile your way.

The smile you give him is a little shaky, your awkwardness from before coming back in full force, in response to the two youngest giving you the cold shoulder.

You aren't surprised though; you were expecting some sort of resistance. When your father had pretty much ordered you to move into your new 'mothers' house, you were pretty pissed too. You had then thrown a tantrum, screaming and crying about how unfair he was being. That even as your father, he had no right to uproot your life like that, but no matter what you said he didn't budge.

His decision was final, and so cursing and screaming, a week later here you are, trying your best to be the ideal sister your father expects you to be, as you attempt to accept these seven strangers as your family.

'Life just doesn't give me a break, does it?' You think wryly, letting out a soft sigh when you feel the glares against the sides of your face darken.

Okay then, act like a bunch of pouty little brats, see if I care.

Rolling your eyes at the immaturity, your two older brothers were currently showcasing, you move back to Sunmi who was now talking to Namjoon.

"Your boxes were delivered a few hours ago, we've moved them all up to your room, but we haven't unpacked any. Would you like help with the unpacking? I have to leave for court now, but a few of us are free today, and we'd be more than happy to help." Namjoon offers, his dimpled smile again on full display, and if you were any more juvenile, you'd have called it a personal attack.

Pretty 2x.

Feeling the glares at your back not letting up, you just shake your head. You have a feeling Namjoon is talking about the two overgrown babies who are currently wishing death upon you, but you'd rather have the boxes fall and slowly suffocate you to your demise than have them help.

"It's fine; I can do it. Thank you for sending the boxes up to my room though!" You reply, and Namjoon just ruffles your hair in response. Squealing you try to move away from his reach and groan, fixing your now rats nest of hair.

Chuckling at your apparently hilarious antics Namjoon nods and calls Jimin over, asking him to escort you and Sunmi to your room. You figure since it's still early on in the day, most of them have their jobs to attend to, and will probably take their time to socialise with you later.

You don't mind, the more time you have to get your shit together, the better.

Waving goodbye to Namjoon and everybody else, You, Sunmi and Jimin make your way to the stairs. Why you can't just use the elevator like before, you don't know, but considering it has been less than an hour since you have joined your new family, you don't bother complaining.

Too soon.

Much like downstairs, the interior of the floor above was simplistic. Metallic, with lots of glassed walls and plenty of potted plants.

'Someone in this family is obsessed with plants.' You think amused as your gaze travels to all the different types of plants around you. Some of them, you think, look too green and fancy to be real.

The marble staircase is wide and curved, and once you reach the end, you turn back to look down and raise a brow, impressed, at how high the floor was.

Fancy indeed.

"This floor is where most of the rooms are, only Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung live on the floor below," Jimin explains, as he leads you to where you assume your room is.

Passing by different doors on your way, you wonder whose room is which. You'll figure it out later you know, but you just hope none of the younger brothers are near you.

'Except Jimin, he's nice.' You decide as you follow his lean figure.

Pink, a colour you think would look absurd or emo on anyone else, looks bright somehow fitting, on your brother's head, and you watch entranced as his soft silky strands bounce with every step he takes.

'What is with these people and their genetics?'

It's that thought that leads you to an epiphany. You almost stop in your tracks but stumble forward when Sunmi nudges you from behind.

Earlier you were too nervous and wired, terrified of somehow messing up and offending your entire new family and so you hadn't given it much thought. But thinking back, you realise there was something weird about how they all introduced themselves.

Min, Jung, Jeon.

Their last names were different. You don't understand how you hadn't noticed it before when you had learned all their names, but you blame your anger and stupidity for the oversight.

'Kim Young-Soon', your step-mother, and the woman you currently hated with all of your being.

However, what you hadn't realised before but now do was how only Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung, had the same last name, 'Kim' as their mother.

'What the heck is up with this family?'

More confused than anything else by your realisation, you continue to follow Jimin blindly. His voice fading into the background, as your eyes track his movements, the way his full lips curl when he smiled, and your suspicion only grows.

There was something your new family wasn’t telling you, and you were going to find out just what it was.

At least now I have something to do besides stressing out over suddenly having seven brothers, two of whom would set me on fire if given a chance.

Nodding, you decide you are going to have to do some interrogation tonight.

A/N: If you like my work, leave me your feedback, even if its just a single word, it leaves me feeling immensely happy.

I updated in less than a week! Heh, clearly my stir craziness is achieving new heights. Oh well, more content for y’all so yeeehawww 🥴

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secretpeachtea · 4 years

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Onigiri Miya Tidbits Ch 7

Title: the fox’s den

Genre: gen fic, reader insert

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Onigiri Miya is now hiring and you just happen to be the right person for the job. The business has been gaining popularity since its grand opening, and many customers travel from different cities just to have a bite of Miya Osamu’s delicious recipes. You did expect some craziness from working in food services, but what you didn’t expect was to be bombarded with frequent tomfoolery from a bunch of attractive volleyball players during your shifts.

disclaimer: manga spoilers

A/N: Hey y’all! There’s gonna be quite a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but I hope it’s not too boring. I was really excited to write this chapter since Inarizaki is my favorite team :D Hope you enjoy!

Previous///Next

There was always something entrancing about the second half of the year when the green and gray streets transform into a multicolored wonderland as a response to the incoming shift of seasons. You admire the different shades of red, orange, and yellow that litter the ground that you’re walking on as you make your way to work. The only things going through your mind right now are serenity, peace, and-

“‘SAMU, YOU BASTARD!”

At the sudden voice, you almost trip on your own feet in surprise. Once you’re sure you won’t fall flat on your face, you look up and see two familiar twins right outside the front door of Onigiri Miya, clear irritation written on their faces.

“How could you say that?! Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?” Atsumu yells at his brother while clenching his hands by his sides.

Osamu’s eyebrows are furrowed in distress. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one with common sense here. I’ve done what I can to convince you, but you just won’t listen to me!”

You start to worry now as you continue to watch the two glare at each other from where you’re standing a few feet away. You know it’s best not to interfere, but there’s a part of you that wants to stop them before things get out of hand. It seems like you don’t even have to make a decision as Atsumu’s eyes meet yours. “Hey, sweetheart! Come over here and tell this tasteless scrub that he’s wrong!”

“Who you calling a tasteless scrub, you uneducated swine!” Osamu crosses his arms in disdain but softens his gaze when his eyes land on your approaching figure.

“Hold up. What are you guys even talking about?” You try your best to keep your voice as relaxed as possible but still proceed with caution in case one of them were to blow up again in anger.

What you didn’t expect, however, were the next few words that came out of the blonde’s mouth. “The best Disney princess is obviously Rapunzel, but ‘Samu doesn’t agree!”

“You just like her ‘cause she’s blonde! Clearly, Belle is the superior princess!” The other twin spits back.

You pause for a moment to process the situation. That’s...not exactly what you expected when you first saw them arguing outside of the shop (and quite loudly too). A deep sigh leaves your lips as the two childish men in front of you continue to banter.

“Oh yeah?!” Atsumu suddenly directs his attention on you and places his hands on your shoulders for emphasis. “Sweetheart, who do you think is the best Disney princess?”

Already feeling an incoming headache, you just say the first thing that pops into your mind in hopes of stopping this madness. “Oh, uh...I don’t know. I think Mulan is pretty badass.”

The twins go silent as they contemplate your response for a brief minute. It seems like you gave a satisfactory answer because they both make eye contact with each other and nod their heads. Their strange twin telepathy is something you’ll never understand.

No longer having the patience, you just brush off Atsumu’s hands and use your spare key to open up the front entrance of the shop. The two men just follow you inside and the blonde is the first one to break the silence in a much calmer tone than before. “Okay, fair. But, I really do think-!”

Atsumu halts his footsteps as you and Osamu just glance at him confused. The blonde gasps dramatically as he stares at the new additions to the shop’s walls. “HEY! Why do you have their autographs on your wall?!”

Not wanting a part 2 to the previous fiasco, you just head over to the back room to put your belongings away and get yourself ready for work. Securing the cap on your head, you walk out of the room and stroll to your spot on the register. It seems like Atsumu is a lot more fired up than usual because he’s still arguing with his brother.

It took everything in Osamu to keep his voice at a normal level while responding to Atsumu’s pettiness. “They came over to eat one day and I thought it would look good for the shop.”

“Don’t you know that we’re ultimate rivals?! You can’t be siding with the enemy!”

“They’re your rivals, ‘Tsumu. Everyone’s technically considered a customer to me.”

“Traitor!”

You swear you saw puffs of smoke pop from Osamu’s ears from his frustration. You were about to place a hand on his shoulder in hopes to keep your boss from throwing something at his brother, but a smooth voice interrupted the tension in the room.

“Calm down, Atsumu.”

You and Osamu jumped in surprise, while Atsumu let out a startled yelp at the unexpected guest. The three of you turned toward the front entrance to see who showed up an hour before opening. Although you only heard one voice, three tall figures in casual clothing stand at the doorway. They step inside the building and you vaguely remember seeing their faces in a picture Osamu once showed you from high school.

The person in the middle of the group brushes away a couple strands of his gray hair with black tips while his other hand sits on top of the handle of a small suitcase. The one on the left has a built body with dark skin sporting a kind smile. The one on the right has a lanky body and long fingers that reach up to his face to cover a yawn on his bored expression.

If you remember correctly, Osamu had told you about some of his former teammates and the ones standing in front of you were Kita Shinsuke, Ojiro Aran, and Suna Rintarou.

The twins brighten in recognition and make their way over to the newcomers. “Kita-san! Aran-san!”

“I’m here too, you know.” Suna comments.

All of the guys greet one another in the middle of the room with smiles on their faces. You’re not really sure what to do since you’re the odd one out.

You stand off to the side behind the counter awkwardly, but you are interested in their little group dynamic. The Inarizaki alumni all hold completely different demeanors and postures, but one thing that they all share is that all of them are incomprehensibly attractive in their own way. Why are all of the former and current volleyball players that you’ve met so far like this?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you’ve been staring at Kita in particular for a couple minutes. He must have felt your eyes on him because he momentarily looks away from his current conversation to make direct eye contact with you. You let out a small squeak after getting caught staring, but it doesn’t seem like Kita is bothered at all.

“Ah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Kita leaves his group to walk over to where you are and this catches the attention of the other four males as well.

“It’s no problem! I wanted to give you guys room to catch up.” You lift up your hands to wave off his apology and give Kita a bright smile as you speak. “It’s finally nice to meet the oh-so-praiseworthy rice provider for the shop, Kita-san.”

Your reply elicits a soft laugh from the man’s mouth. “Nice to finally meet you too, (Surname)-san.”

“You know my name?” You ask, surprised.

“Aside from looking at your name tag, yes. I’ve heard some things about you from the twins,” Kita answers.

Your cheeks turn a bit pink in embarrassment because you completely forgot that you were wearing your name tag for work. Your embarrassment doesn’t last for long, however, when you quickly realize what Kita had just implied about the twins. You shoot an intimidating look at the two culprits and neither of them meet your gaze. “They talk about me?”

“Only good things. No worries.” Kita tries his best to reassure you that there hasn’t been any slander against you, but you still feel a bit insecure.

Knowing that feeling this way is probably unnecessary, you just resort to a little bit of teasing. “I don’t worry so much about Osamu-san. It’s the other one that needs to be kept in check.”

“Hey!” Atsumu’s head quickly turns to your direction at your very obvious accusation.

Suna snickers while ignoring his friend’s outburst. “She’s a smart one.”

“Hey!”

Aran chuckles in amusement and Osamu just smiles at his brother’s distress. You try to fake exasperation by placing a hand on your cheek and Kita’s smile falters as he catches something from the corner of his eye. The charm bracelet that you received from Osamu is secured to your wrist with the small onigiri charm shining under the fluorescent lights.

“Oh, so you’re the one…”

You look back at Kita in confusion. “The one what?”

Kita hesitates for a moment before simply shaking his head in dismissal with a knowing grin on his lips. “Ah, it’s nothing.”

You’re bewildered by his mysterious response, but it doesn’t look like he wants to talk about it anymore, so you just brush it off for now.

As everyone else continues their own conversations, Kita thinks back to a conversation he had a couple months back.

“The rice should be coming in a couple days, Osamu.”

“Sounds good, Kita-san.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“Actually...I have a quick question.”

“What is it?”

“What would you...um...give to someone who just graduated that’s not so generic or meaningless?”

“...Are you asking for your coworker?”

“Scary! Are you sure you don’t read minds or something, Kita-san?”

“I don’t believe I can. But, to answer your previous question, if you want to give a gift that holds more meaning, I would say buy or make something that’s personal to both of you. It could be from a fond memory you share or a common interest. However, based on the positive things I’ve heard about her, she would probably appreciate anything you give her.”

“Hm…”

Kita is pulled out of his thoughts when he hears Osamu’s voice nearby. “I’ll get you guys the usual, right?”

The rest of the guys all nod their head and Aran makes the motion to take out his wallet. However, before he can do so, Osamu lifts up a hand to stop him. “No worries, Aran-san! All of this is on me!”

Atsumu’s ears perk up. “You’re not gonna make me pay for my food this time, ‘Samu?”

Kita looks towards Osamu and slightly tilts his head in confusion. “You make your brother pay for his food?”

“Always.” Osamu answers without hesitation and with one of the most deadpan expressions you’ve ever witnessed on him.

“I see.” Kita simply nods his head in understanding. “It would be detrimental to your business if you gave things out for free too much.”

Atsumu grabs onto his former captain’s arms in exasperation. “Kita-san!”

A quiet giggle leaves your mouth at the scene in front of you. It seems like the twins are a bit more competitive and bicker more often when their former teammates are involved. Seeing this side of Osamu amuses you since you’re more used to his laidback nature.

Eventually the brief comical moment calms down and Osamu begins to prepare all of the food. Kita and Atsumu seemed to be in their own world, so you decide to try and speak with the other two people in the room that you have yet to be acquainted with.

Suna and Aran seem to have been thinking the same thing because they are already walking up to the counter in your direction. Suna raises his right hand in greeting, while Aran gives you a polite smile before speaking, “You must be (Surname)-san. Apologies for taking so long to greet you.”

“No worries.“ You wave off the apology. “You guys were also teammates with the twins in high school right? The only thing I really know are your names. What were your positions?”

“I was a wing spiker. I’ve actually known the twins since we were in elementary school,” Aran replies.

You clap your hands together in realization. “You guys are childhood friends then! I’m surprised you haven’t come up in my conversations with them more.”

“Those two were always running around all over the place just to compete against each other, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t remember half of the things they experienced in school.” Aran lets out a deep sigh, but you couldn't detect any real annoyance.

If the counter wasn’t in the way, you definitely would’ve patted the man on the shoulder. “Well if you’re as patient and calm as you are now with their antics for all those years, then you definitely deserve the appreciation, Ojiro-san.”

“You deserve it just as much since you see at least one of them almost every day now.” Aran sends you another kind smile and you can’t help but mirror it.

Not wanting to leave out Suna from the conversation, you turn your head towards the male who is just listening with his hands shoved into his pockets. “What about you, Suna-san? What was your position?”

“Middle blocker. Although, I did work as a part-time witness to the twins’ stupidity.” The stoic male smirks and looks at you in the eye. “Seems like you’ve taken up that job?”

You burst out laughing. “I can’t really deny that. We should be compensated for all this work.”

Suddenly, you feel a heavy weight on your shoulder that catches you off guard. When you look up, Osamu’s elbow is leaning on your shoulder and there are pieces of rice stuck to his fingertips. He has one of his eyebrows raised in suspicion. “Hey, why do I get the feeling that you guys are talking behind our backs?”

Suna looks directly at Osamu with his usual expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Feeling a bit playful, you also answer with the same deadpan tone. “Yeah, we’re just bonding over some relatable stuff.”

Suna takes one of his hands out of his pockets and raises it up next to you. Without hesitation, you give him a high five while holding back your smile. Aran just chuckles at the unexpected tag team between you and his former teammate.

Before your boss could make any more comments, his phone dings from where it’s sitting on the counter between his work station and the register. Osamu seems briefly conflicted since his hands are covered in rice but quickly comes to a decision. “Hey, (Name)-san. You mind holding up my phone for me? I think it’s a message about a shipment for some ingredients we needed to restock.”

“Yeah, sure!” You pick up the phone and a picture of Onigiri Miya with a large ‘Grand Opening’ sign in front of the entrance illuminates the lock screen. “Oh, you have facial recognition. I’m gonna have to borrow your face for a bit, Osamu-san.”

Osamu leans down as you place the phone in front of him for a couple seconds, but nothing happens. You try to angle the screen differently and wait a little longer, but it’s still not unlocking. Across the counter, Atsumu watches the two of you struggle through a few more attempts before losing his patience. “Just put the phone up to my face. It’ll probably work.”

A bit curious to see if the phone will actually unlock for the other twin, you move your arm to where Atsumu’s waiting. You keep the phone up for a few moments, but there’s still no response.

The blonde just stares at his brother’s phone in disbelief. “What the hell? Why isn’t it working??”

“Wow, even my phone can tell who the uglier brother is.” Yup. Osamu’s definitely feistier today.

“WE LITERALLY HAVE THE SAME FACE.”

The twins look like they’re about to start another round of unnecessary bickering. From the side, Kita sighs at the idea of having to intervene in yet another argument. He opens his mouth to stop the madness, but you beat him to it. You shove Osamu’s phone into his face again and surprisingly it unlocks. “Alright, guys. You can shut up now. I got it to work.”

Both Atsumu and Osamu shut their mouths immediately. They still looked a bit irked at one another, but no longer have the will to fight. Kita stares at you with shock. He’s never seen anyone other than himself dissipate the twins’ bickering so quickly and you haven’t even known them for as long as he has. Even Aran gives up at some point. Perhaps you are a much more important presence than he realized.

Clicking on the message notification, you lift up your arm just enough so that both you and Osamu can look at the screen comfortably. The message consisted of a picture of a shipment with a list of items. The list is barely legible due to the small font, so the two of you have to lean in closer to the screen.

“The text is so small. Can you read anything?” You ask as you bring the phone closer.

Osamu squints and wipes one of his hands on a clean towel before placing it over your own to steady the phone. “Barely. Why did he send such a terrible picture?”

The close proximity and subtle touches between you and your boss do not go unnoticed. As you’re discussing the contents of the picture, Suna and Aran share a knowing look with each other.

After a couple minutes of trying to decipher everything in the message, you and Osamu have successfully written down a complete list of all the shipment contents on a napkin. Osamu pockets his phone and the napkin before turning to look at you. “Okay, I think everything’s all good. Thanks, (Name)-san.”

“No problem!” You rub your eyes from the slight strain and move back to where you were standing before while Osamu finishes up making the last of the group’s food. Suna and Aran just watch you both go back to whatever you were doing before as if your cheeks weren’t millimeters away from each other a few seconds ago. The two males make eye contact once again, but just shrug their shoulders.

“Food’s ready! Grab your onigiris and drinks. We can sit at the table for a bit.” Osamu announces to his friends. Your boss turns to you briefly as he starts going around the counter. “Wanna join?”

“No, that’s alright. You guys use this time to catch up. I can take care of setting up the shop on my own, so take your time.” You give him a reassuring smile and he returns a grateful one back.

While the guys chatted about their lives, you set up the chairs and checked each of the sauce bottles to make sure none of them were empty. About fifteen minutes went by and you now had a broom propped up against your shoulder after sweeping. On your way back, you pass by the table where everyone is still talking with one another.

“I am funny! There just wasn’t anyone competent enough to get the joke!” It seems like Atsumu was yet again becoming a victim to the endless teasing of his former teammates because his face is slightly flushed and he’s fidgeting with pent up frustration. In hopes to ease his heated face, Atsumu roughly starts refilling his cup with ice water with a tight grip on the glass.

Suna shakes his head. “I thought it was funnier when you almost passed out from being overheated from the Jackasuke suit.”

“What?!” Atsumu abruptly stands up from his chair and in his haste, he doesn't realize that he had also raised his cup just as quickly causing the water to splash onto the nearest thing which just so happened to be you. “Oh shi-! (Name)-chan!”

The front of your shirt is entirely soaked and water drips down from your face and the tips of your hair. You mentally thank your boss for making the uniforms black. Lucky for you, your pants are completely dry because your apron took all of the damage. Aran, who is the next person closest to you, takes the broom from your possession and hands you a couple napkins to at least dry your face, but it’s definitely not enough to make a dent in your drenched clothes.

Atsumu frets over you with a look of immense guilt in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, (Name)-chan! I-I didn’t mean to do that!”

“It’s...it’s okay. Just try not to lose your cool so easily next time.” You can’t really say you’re happy about your current predicament, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good if you lash out in anger. The running A/C is much more apparent now that it’s much easier to feel the circulating cold air and you start to shiver a bit.

Osamu catches your attention from the corner of your eye when he stands up from his seat. “You good, (Name)-san? You should probably go put on a jacket or something.”

“I didn’t bring a jacket or any extra clothes with me today.” You sigh at your misfortune at how something like this happens on the one day you don’t have your hoodie with you.

Osamu’s frown deepens at the growing unfortunate circumstances. “Ah, damn. We usually have extra shirts in the back, but I left them at home to wash.”

You dread at the thought of either working with a wet shirt or having to walk all the way back to your apartment to change while suffering through the chilly breezes. However, the universe must be taking pity on you when you hear another voice join in.

“(Surname)-san, I have some spare clothes in my suitcase.” Kita pats the suitcase that he had brought into the shop with him.

You know that the best and most efficient way to get out of your misery is to accept his offer, but you’re still reluctant. “Oh no! It’s okay! I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble for you.”

“I don’t mind. It wouldn’t do you any good to go around with wet clothing. You might catch a cold, especially since the weather is becoming cooler.” Kita immediately brushes off any concerns you may have. He zips open his suitcase and grabs a simple navy sweater from his pile of folded clothes. There’s a slight pause when he holds out the shirt to you before continuing the conversation, “It would mostly cause Osamu to be very distressed.”

There isn’t much room for arguing, so you slowly take the soft sweater from the older male’s arms and nod your head in understanding. “Yeah, I guess he would have to work twice as much if I’m not able to help out.”

Kita blinks at your oblivious rationale. “...right.”

You hear a hint of something in his tone but don’t dwell on it for too long because another blast of cold air hits your body causing you to shiver again. Muttering a quick thanks, you rush to the bathroom to change. After peeling off your uniform shirt and bundling it up with your apron, you wipe off any water that remains on your skin before slipping on the borrowed sweater. It’s much larger and warmer than you thought it would be. After gathering the wet pile of clothes, you head out of the bathroom in your new attire.

The table that everyone was sitting at is now completely cleared of any food and some of the guys are sitting at the counter while Osamu is washing all of the used dishes. Atsumu’s head is laying on the counter and still has distraught laced into his expression. He immediately stands up to apologize again when he hears you come out of the bathroom, but his words get caught in his throat when he sees you.

Kita’s sweater is definitely too big for your frame. The sweater reaches your mid thigh, but you’ve opted to fashionably tuck the front of it into your pants. The sleeves go past your hands only exposing your fingers and the collar reveals a sliver of your collarbone. The overall fit of the sweater creates an image that can make anyone stop and stare.

Atsumu’s ears redden at the sight in front of him and Osamu is frozen in front of the sink. Even Suna and Aran have briefly halted their conversation to stare silently. The only one who is visibly unaffected is Kita.

Kita decides to walk over to where you are and hands you an empty plastic bag. “You can place your wet clothes into the bag so it doesn’t get anything else wet. You can return the shirt to Osamu and he can give it to me before I head back home.”

“Ah, thanks! I’ll wash it tonight and give it to Osamu tomorrow when I come in for work.” You smile at him gratefully and do as he suggested. During the process, your sleeves roll down uncomfortably and you have to constantly pull at it so that it doesn’t get in the way.

Kita notices the way you are fidgeting and gives you an inquisitive look. “Are the sleeves bothering you?”

“Oh, um...just a bit, but it’s not too bad.” You reply.

The male just pulls the plastic bag away from your hands and puts it off to the side for the time being before holding out his own hands in front of you. “Here, let me help.”

You accept his assistance and hold out one of your arms to him. Kita calmly folds the sleeves to a proper length while you just watch quietly. Once he’s finished with one arm, he gently lifts the other and proceeds to fold the sleeve as well.

The rest of the guys were just watching silently. The entire scene is almost like it’s from some kind of shoujo anime. Atsumu swears there is even a sparkling background with multiple flowers to match the sweet moment. There’s a strange feeling bubbling inside Osamu’s chest, but he chooses to look away and continue washing the dishes. You and Kita looked really good together.

“Thanks again, Kita-san!” Once Kita finishes up the last sleeve, you smile at him once again. “I guess I was lucky that you decided to visit so suddenly today or I might’ve been in trouble.”

“You’re welcome.” Kita returns the smile. “We were all busy on the twins’ birthday last week, so it’s a good thing we rescheduled to today.”

“What.” You blink once. It takes a few seconds for you to process what the man in front of you had just said, but once it clicks, a wave of shock passes through your body. “What?!”

You scramble over to where Osamu is avoiding your gaze and grab onto his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me your birthday was last week?!”

“Oh uh… it never came up?” A bead of sweat runs down the side of your boss’ face.

Still enraged, you swerve your head towards the blonde twin and point an accusing finger at him. “And you! I would’ve expected you to be all over having the attention!”

Atsumu shrugs his shoulder in an uncharacteristically nonchalant way causing you to drop your arm in confusion. “Meh, I’m not really all that big on birthdays. I thought my brother would’ve told you.”

When you look back at Osamu, his hand is rubbing at his neck sheepishly. “It was your day off and you looked like you weren’t feeling well the day before, so I thought it’d be best if you rested.”

You’re not sure if you should feel touched that he noticed that you weren’t feeling so great last week or upset that he didn’t think to tell you about such a special day. Your boss has also been pretty busy lately due to work, so there is a part of you that is understanding of the situation. There isn’t really anything you can do about it now since it’s already too late, so you just sigh in defeat.

Kita decides to intervene before you get even more upset. “No worries, (Surname)-san. There’s always a next year for birthdays. If you wanted to spend time with him, I’m sure just asking will suffice.”

“Indeed. Osamu would definitely not mind making time for you, (Surname)-san.” Aran adds.

Atsumu seems to be feeling a bit left out and chimes in, “Wait, but what about me? It was my birthday too.”

“It’s not like Osamu knows how to do anything but play volleyball and work. Might as well take him out somewhere nice.” Suna mentions while ignoring Atsumu’s outburst for the nth time today.

“Woah, guys!” Osamu’s face flushes a bit from the teasing. You laugh at the group's antics and feel your frustration melt away.

Suddenly, a phone alarm goes off and Kita pulls out his phone to shut it off. “Well, we should get going now. We wouldn’t want to be in the way of your business, Osamu. We’ll see you tonight with the rest of our former teammates.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys later.” Osamu replies with a wave of his hand.

“I have to get to practice too, so I’ll walk out with all of you.” Atsumu walks towards the exit with his hands folded behind his head. Aran and Suna get up from their seats to get ready to go as well. The two say their goodbyes to both you and Osamu before stepping outside to catch up with Atsumu.

Kita is the last one out, but before he closes the door he gives you one last glance. “It was nice to meet you, (Surname)-san.”

“You too, Kita-san!” Your lips curve upwards at being able to have met yet another kind person at work. Kita finally closes the door and now it’s just you and Osamu left in the shop. After having such an eventful morning, the peace and quiet is pretty refreshing.

Osamu looks at you from the corner of his eye thoughtfully. His gaze then shifts down to where his former captain’s sweater rests on your figure and he feels a twinge of irritation but keeps his expression neutral. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home and change? You live pretty close by too.”

You think for a moment but eventually shake your head. “Hm...no it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to miss work just to change into another shirt. I think my extra uniform needs to be washed anyway. Is there something wrong?”

“...no.”

“Jealous that I talked to your friends more than you?”

“N-no!”

A giggle escapes your lips when you hear your boss stutter. “You know you’re my favorite onigiri chef, right?”

“I’m the only onigiri chef you know.” Osamu points out and you giggle even louder. The male can’t even be upset because your laughs are quite contagious. Although, he does make a mental note to bring one of his own sweaters to keep at the shop from now on.

Leftovers

The Miya household is a simple two bed apartment with a decent view of the suburbs around the area. Both Miya twins are considered residents of the complex, but Atsumu usually stays in the dorm available for MSBY players. Today, both twins are in the apartment.

“‘Samu, I swear this shirt makes me look fat-...?” Atsumu barges into his brother’s room without knocking but cuts off his words when he sees his brother intensely staring at a pile of hoodies scattered on his bed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out which hoodie I wanna keep at the shop.” Osamu responds distractedly.

Atsumu stares at him incredulously. “What? Just pick whatever. It’s not like you don’t go to work every day. Why does it matter? ”

Osamu pauses for a moment. “...for emergencies.”

“Whatever, man. I’m heading out to go buy some new volleyball shoes with Shoyo-kun.” The blonde shrugs off his brother’s strange behavior and chooses to just walk away since he needed to leave soon. He momentarily looks out the window and notices some dark clouds filling up the sky. “And, I’m taking your umbrella!”

Osamu doesn’t hear what Atsumu says and barely registers the slam of the front door because he’s too deep in thought. What was your favorite color again?

A/N: Ouch. I realized that if you were to actually follow the haikyuu timeline, some of this wouldn’t actually make sense. BUT I don’t care :D Also, not me indulging on some Kita action cause I am whipped for this man (but not as much as Osamu hehe)

taglist: @kiyoo-omi @tris-does-stuff @livshotel

#onigiri miya #onigiri miya tidbits #secretpeachtea #inarizaki #atsumu #osamu #kita #aran #suna #haikyuu fanfiction

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danddymaro · 4 years

Text

Resistance | Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Anime Abba if no one minds; Just an advance since I know the manga and anime have different color schemes.

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word count : 3229

After the fight With Illuso Abbacchio can no longer hold back

Stay Back

His glazed, golden eyes stayed trained right ahead as his body sluggishly slumped over the brick wall. He struggled to stay upright, somehow pushing past the overbearing pain for just a moment longer as the strength of the human spirit coursed on within his tired, worn being long after he’d accepted his fate.

Like a traveling sludge, he'd left a sticky trail behind, one that would be evidence of his sacrifice, all of which would be the only thing left behind aside from his cold carcass,

And he was fine with things being left as they were; so long as the mission was a success.

After all, they'd gotten the key, and as messy as things got, it was a win in his book.

' That's all that matters… ' he thought with content, struggling to breath, his sight beginning to blur as occasional little black splotches scattered across his hazy vision,

"Yeah...At least… At least I did that right," he thought with a snicker, albeit a rather bitter one, humored that while his life had been a waste, he’d done just one thing successfully,

'But...there's just one thing…' he thought to himself, chuckling wearily at the recollection of a rather dejected face he’d last seen, deeply wishing that hadn’t been his last memory of her, but somehow grateful that it was, because then he could live on with the idea that he died with her resentment.

And maybe then, she wouldn’t miss him. Maybe then he’d only be an ugly memory she’d be willing to forget, finally getting it through her head that he wasn’t ever worth the worry.

“Just stay back!” he barked at her, looking back at her with hardened golden eyes narrowed fiercely at her as she tried to leave along with them.

“Keep watch if you want to feel useful,” he said in an offhand sort of manner, making her face fall, disheartened.

(e/c) colored eyes then hardened as he followed up with more expected backlash, the woman visually preparing herself for his sharp tongue, swallowing it all down with a quiet nod.

“Why the hell Bucciarati insisted on you coming… it's a mystery to me.” He said lowly, completely turning from her by then, not sparing her another glance after the uttered words.

Frowning, Giorno stepped towards her, his hand raised to touch her slumped shoulder before she shook her head, immediately perking,

“Okay!” She agreed, “I’ll stay here!” She chirped, “Abba’s Right,” She went on, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” She added, an undertone of hurt weaved through the façade she put on.

“So you guys go ahead. I’ll take care of things here.”

All the while her eyes were stuck on the other man’s back, watching as he drew further, his shoulders squared and tense as he went in search for the important item, the other two males following in suit, though seeming just as exasperated as her at the elder man’s choice of words.

“I’ll have a talk with him,” Fugo said softly as he walked past her, offering her a lax, apologetic grimace of a smile.

‘You always do,’ (f/n) mused, smiling back nonetheless, finding his effort to help her to be sweet, yet futile because it never changed anything.

‘It won’t change a thing,’ She added, her expression dying as they drew further from her.

She wished it wasn’t so and that somehow, the cycle would cease.

“By now… She should hate me…” Leone said to himself, his heart weighed down by the thought,

'But it's all for the best, ' he silently added, lazily blinking.

‘It’s better you’re not here…It’s better you stayed back,’ he thought with true gratefulness, a shuttered, thankful breath falling past his painted lips.

He thought of her running into the Stand user herself, doubting she’d have any better luck than he did, because after all, her stand wasn’t made much for the offensive, just as his own stand wasn’t.

Hers was meant for love; to care for and tend others. It did wonders on everyone else, the drawback being that the power was useless to her, something that was befitting of such a selfless person.

She could do wonders for others, but not for her own self.

‘And If you were hurt...I just know that bastard Giorno would have the time of his life fixing you up,’ He thought bitterly, hating how close the two had gotten, right from the start,

“It’s nice to have another healer,” she said while showing off a happy, little, quirky smile, one that made Abbacchio’s jaw clench, and seemed to have its own effect on the younger male as well.

Sweetly, Giorno smiled back, a featherlight blush dusting over his features, “(f/n), right?” He said back, meeting her halfway to grasp her hand, the small contact being something the elder man paid attention to keenly because it bothered him so much to see her cozy up to the rookie as though they were old pals.

“ Bucciarati mentioned you briefly.” He revealed to her, making her smile grow,

“Really?” She said surprised, “What did he say?” She asked curiously, wondering just what her Capo had said about her to the rookie.

What was she known for?

“He said well...” Giorno trailed off while suddenly growling nervous as the words formed a knot in his throat, “ Oh well, nothing really!” he insisted, not wanting to repeat that he’d actually referred to her as ‘the pretty, little sweetheart,’ much more, that he’d actually agreed with him the second he found himself locked eyes with her and she smiled to him, seeming to be the most amiable of the group.

It was easy to tell that in some sort of way, Giorno liked her and it irked him. It bothered him even more so to see that not only Giorno showed interest in her, but also had the nerve to go out of his way to make her giggle, finding any excuse to do so, behaving innocent with each attempt,

"Usually the flowers trail behind you," Giorno started, falling into step with (f/n) as she walked alone, "But today..." he trailed off, humming, "I don't know, " He started, “You don't seem as bright," He added, quirking a brow, stopping right before her, reaching down to lift her chin up.

"It just isn't right," He told her, concerned, the genuine look of worry crossed over his features.

"What do you mean?" (f/n) asked, her dimmed (e/c) colored eyed gleaming up at him, curious as to what he meant.

She knew that perhaps she seemed dull, but to be fair she hadn’t had much sleep to begin with.

"You haven't smiled today," He explained, "which isn't right, as the sun should always shine," He added.

Shaking her head, (f/n) giggled, finding the quirky, little line to be even cornier than Mista’s own cheesy throw-away ones. She was ready to comment on it when his stand appeared before her, the humanoid being’s power at work,

" Giorno," She muttered, watching with growing eyes as a little flower sprouted from the blonde’s hand, the golden, little face of the white petaled blossom facing her,

"Ah...There we go," He mused, a cute, little dust of pink on his own face, chuckling at his own moronic actions.

Perhaps it was over the top, but he knew it would liven her up, and that's all that mattered to him at the moment, because to him, if anyone deserved to have a smile drawn over them, it was the kind woman.

All the while, (f/n) thought of him as sweet, the charming young man being someone she greatly appreciated for his considerate nature, while on the opposite end, the other man in the room brooded, annoyed.

"Tch, " Leone clicked his teeth, his eyes fallen far away from the pair as he ground his teeth together, turning his nose,

'She'll grin at anything he does,' He thought irked. 'She'll just stupidly smile at any shit anyone tells her,' He added, wanting to turn back and eye the cute, little expression, but knowing full well it would scathe him as he remembered just why it existed.

"Shit.." He muttered, trying to push the thought of her away as he realized that she’d yet again invaded every bit of his mind, even during his final moments of what was supposed to be peace.

And it seemed as though somehow, his thoughts had reached her, because before him a small moving blur grew, coming closer to him with hasty speed,

“Abbacchio!” He heard her say, following up with large pants as she knelt before him, immediately falling to both her knees to be more on his level, the skin above both joints burning from the sudden, harsh friction.

He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, the smell very faintly wafting into his nose as she came even closer, slipping through the personal bubble he’d kept himself in.

During then her (e/c) colored eyes skimmed over him and every beaten bit of him that was visible, visually shaken at the sighed of his missing limb.

'she came…' he thought to himself, 'she….bothered to come…' he added, grimacing.

After he ordered her to stay…

After he'd pushed her away so many times already…

‘You always come to me…’ He said to himself, falling forward, his heavier body almost toppling her over with the sudden action.

"Hey!" She began worriedly, steadying him, slowly easing him back towards the wall to sit upright, “Come on now,” she encouraged him, her comforting smile present as her hands which were firmly placed on his shoulders immediately went to cup his cold cheeks,

“Abba,” She urged him, “ Stay with me,” She added as she gently eased his lolling head straight, trying to get a better look at his paled face with frantic (e/c) colored eyes.

“I’m right here now,” She told him, “ So you're going to be just fine,” She assured him with an unshaken determination.

He squinted, trying to get his eyes to work right, only to find himself stuck on her own shining (e/c) colored gems.

Her (dark/light) eyes looked into him, and as she did so, he felt an electric charge run up his spine at the glance, the powerful bolt that came down on him raking his entire being with unforgiving violence.

He was spiritless in the motion, yet somehow found it in himself to stray his golden orbs away, deciding to not challenge her own look with his own fading will, the man slowly growing even smaller beneath the grace of her sweetly trained stare.

“Quit staring...Quit looking...at me...like that,” He grumbled, savoring down the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, "Tch… you damn idiot," he rasped, slowly shaking his head from her sweet hold, doing so with all the mustered strength he had left.

He couldn't feel anything, and yet it burned, her touch scathed him, the unbearable ache that was present bursting through from deep within his being.

Maybe she was overreacting she reasoned, chuckling wearily, but unable to fight back tears,

“ It’s just...I...I thought I’d come here too late!” She cried out, not able to resist the urge to hold him, latching onto him with desperation, the bloody grime over his body sticking onto her clothing, causing her smell of sweetness to be masked by his pungent gore.

By then his head was pressed to her chest, placed right over her heavily beating heart as she continued to shake, holding on tightly in a desperate embrace,

“For just a moment there…” She muttered, “ I thought I was going to lose you,” she added, little tears still pricking her eyes as she began to heal him, her (e/c) colored eyes closed as she coddled him.

'stop...stop touching me ...' he thought to himself, his lethargic body beginning to squirm as she tended him, her hold on him remaining unmoved.

'stop crying over me,' he added feeling her tears fall over him, the droplets falling onto his face even after she’d expressed her relief, despite the fact that gradually his body began to feel warm again, function slowly coming back to him.

'stop…' he pleaded, his bottom lip quivering, wanting to snap at her and make her go away altogether.

He could feel his fingers begin to move, his gaze beginning to align right with the more time he spent under her care.

“(F/n),” He rasped lowly, her head rising at the utter of her name as her face lit up the sound of his voice. And it was then that she drew back from him, her brightened eyes gazing into his glowing eyes with expectancy.

(E/c) eyes stared right at him, her face streaked with salty tears and as she saw the dimness from his golden eyes begin to fade, her face lit up with sheer joy,

“Leone,” She said softly, a smile gracing her, very faintly taking over her, "I’m so ha-," she started, cut off as his hand that was now healed, took hold of the back of her head, tightly weaving itself through (h/c) strands as he grabbed her,

"Why don't you just stay away from me?" He said lowly, teeth grit together as he shoved her down, straddling her as he glared down at her, " You shouldn't be here," he reminded her, “remember?” he asked her, having thought he’d been very clear.

“Are you an idiot?” He went on, his grip on her hair bound tight enough that it began to sting, causing her to wince, “If that asshole was around still...what would you have done?” he asked her, already knowing the answer.

He thought about it with so much rage it had him shaking,

‘ Don’t you get it? I’m doing this for you!’ He thought to himself with utter frustration.

All the while her eyes were wide as she wordlessly looked up at him, caught beneath him as he continued to loom over her, the sight making his hold slacken for just a fraction of a second, realizing just what he was doing,

“Damn it (f/n),” He grumbled, continuing to look down at her, completely taken by the sight of her in her current state, his vexation slowly dying out.

Through teary-eyed and bloodied, she seemed beautiful lying beneath him, her (h/c) colored strands caught in his hand and tangled there to create the very same scene he’d selfishly conjured up on more than once occasion.

Mindlessly, his eyes then drew down to her lips, tempted by the sight of their inviting curve and thickness, causing his own to press together with longing.

She was filthy now, drenched in his blood, her back pressed onto the filthy ground as well, and even then, it took nothing away from her beauty and much more, the undeniable attraction he had for her.

“It’s so damn annoying when you think I need you,” He told her, trailing off as he came down closer, his lilac-colored lips almost touching her (color) ones, “...even more annoying when you're right.” He muttered, hating just how perfectly she fit beneath him.

They fit like two puzzle pieces slowly being inched together, and he’d already known it would be the case.

“Leone...I want to tell you I l-”

“I know,” He said quietly, “ I already know,” He told her, his heart racing, not wanting to hear her say it, because he knew he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he actually heard her say it.

He was currently struggling, unable to function right, and the single admittance would undoubtedly rattle him, making him do something he’d long fought,

“So quit crying. And quite following me around like a lost dog,” He told her, his voice soft, the words meant to be snide, but missed all the bite they needed.

“I...I don’t want you around me,” He struggled to say, biting his lip afterward.

‘You say so.. but you haven't drawn back,’ She noticed, ‘You’re shaking...And all the while your eyes...Your eyes are so soft,’ she mused, a sudden realization falling down upon her with the weight of a ton,

‘...You’ve been doing it purposely.’ she understood, ‘ But you’ve also been hesitant.’

"...Why do you do this?" She asked him, her heart heavy as she looked up at him, seeing the same hurt crossed over his features as he tried to push her away yet again.

It was a frail shove, but a sign of resistance nonetheless.

‘Whenever I feel so close to you...Whenever we’re just inches apart, you find a way to drift back away.’ She thought to herself, helpless as she was stuck in the same repeated cycle with him.

Yet again, he was so painfully close, but all the same remaining distant, blocked off as though there was a stone wall between them.

"- It's better," He said to her, though sounding unconvinced.

He shook, his breath being both inhaled and released in the same shaking manner as for just a second, his lips brushed hers, accidentally smudging the soft color of his lips onto hers,

“How?” she dared to ask.

“ Don’t you get it? I’ve been trying to fight it... But when you go out of your way for me, I just want you more,” He admitted, swallowing down harshly. "So just quit it already," He begged, "Before I regret it...before you regret it too," he added.

"I'd never regret it," She insisted, "because I lo-"

Cutting her off, he smashed his lips to hers, his palms both pressed to her cheeks as he rocked his body to hers, wanting to completely melt over her,

“(f/n)” He said in between the heavy kiss, “What did I tell you,” He panted roughly, his lips trailing down her jaw, falling over the flesh of her neck with long, wet kisses as his hands traveled down to her waist, holding her still.

“Just stop, “ He argued, also being a hypocrite, occupied with trailing his mouth over her, not being the one to draw back instead.

“No..” She breathed, “Because I...I love you.” She said instead, feeling his body suddenly tense, his actions stopping, suspended as he held in a breath.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much Leone,” She said to him, her hands reaching for his long strands of hair, the silky lengths weaved through her fingers before she curled them down to her palms, tugging them whilst he released the air in a small, light groan.

‘And I don’t want to ever lose you,’ She thought to herself, eyes shut tightly as she focused on the feeling of his hands roaming over her body, desperate to grip every bit of her.

As she’d seen him bloody, and barely alive, she knew she couldn’t live without telling him the truth that lay locked within her chest, much more when she began to understand his own reasoning.

“(f/n)...I...I love you too,” He finally admitted, breathing along the side of her neck with tightly shut eyes as the last bit of his resistance died, by then the only thing he held back on was the threatening tears that welled in his eyes as his body relaxed, finally finding ease.

So this was basically Abba the Tsun-Tsun （≧ｙ≦＊）

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haliyam · 4 years

Text

interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you.

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest.

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat.

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale.

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard.

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!”

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.”

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear.

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you.

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard.

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—”

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes.

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?”

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear.

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside.

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.”

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name.

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs.

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager.

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs.

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak.

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are.

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration.

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes.

“Night, Lucy.”

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?”

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading!

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shuadotcom · 4 years

Text

Convention Crush | KNJ

➛ Summary: You’re spending your first anime convention alone, in one half of a couple’s cosplay, until you meet a new group of friends and your other fictional half. ➛ Pairing: Namjoon x Gender Neutral!Reader ➛ Genre: Fluff, slice of life ➛ Rating: PG ➛ Warnings: Like two curse words but nothing else ➛ Word Count: 1.7k ➛ A/N: For BHQ’s Anime Club Event! Thank you @nightowls388 for the prompts! 💚

nightowls388 said: Carese darling!! May I has Namjoon in spirited away with dialogue prompt 10 please :D

The hotel is loud and bustling with life as you walk through the doors. A group of teenagers dressed as various Naruto characters runs past you, arms back and backs bent in classic “Naruto run” stance. You weave through a group of My Hero Academia cosplayers to the registration table to get your convention pass.

Once the lanyard is around your neck, you beeline for the hotel’s attached Starbucks. You’ll need the caffeine if you want to survive your first anime convention alone. You’re supposed to be here with your best friend, but Jungkook decided to catch the flu two days ago. The four-day pass was non-refundable, and you weren’t about to lose out on $70 that you barely had to begin with. So, here you are, alone in a sea of over-excited cosplayers and exhausted parents, in one half of a couple’s costume, not even sure where to begin.

“Hi!” A group of teenagers dressed in various Studio Ghibli cosplays approaches you as you head to the escalator for the main convention floor. “You’re Chihiro, right?” A girl dressed as Princess Mononoke asks, gesturing to your pink bathhouse uniform.

“I am.” You offer a nervous smile, unsure where this is going.

“Can we take a picture with you?! We don’t have anyone from Spirited Away in our group!”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” They all crowd around you, squishing you between a Howl and a Kiki as they get a passerby to take a picture of you all. As soon as the camera shutter goes off a few times, they all thank you in a rush and are gone just as quickly, sprinting up the escalator and disappearing into the crowd.

Still reeling from how fast-paced the interaction was, you finally step onto the escalator and fish the convention schedule from your backpack to scan the upcoming events. An ask the cast panel for Demon Slayer could be interesting, not that you’re sure what that consists of, but that’s one of your favorite anime and you have to start somewhere.

Too absorbed in the schedule, you don’t notice the group of men crossing in front of you at the same time you step off the escalator until you bump into one of them, dropping the pamphlet.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you reach down to grab the dropped paper, luckily still clutching your coffee safely to your chest.

“No problem, I got it,” One of the men bends at the same time as you and picks your pamphlet up. It’s not until you really look at him that you notice the black bob wig, blue pants, and white Haori.

“Oh! You’re Haku!”

He flashes you a dimpled smile as he takes in your outfit. “And you’re Chihiro. What are the odds.” You share a laugh, both of your hands grasping either side of the pamphlet longer than is probably necessary.

“Ahem.” A throat clear next to you has you both snapping out of the moment you share, remembering the other people he’s with. You make eye contact with a grey-haired man wearing the signature volleyball costume from Haikyuu. Checking the number on his jersey, you deduce he’s dressed as Sugawara. “This is a super cute moment and all, but the AMV contest starts in like fifteen minutes, and we need to get good seats. You can come with us if you want.” He proposes the last part to you.

“Ah, well I was going to go to an ask the cast panel.” Haku, Sugawara, and the other two men with them dressed as Ash Ketchum and Eren Yeager all give you the same pointed look.

“Is this your first anime convention?” Haku asks.

“Yes...how did you know?”

“No one who comes to these things often would ever put themselves through an ask the cast panel. It’s just a bunch of high schoolers being loud and obnoxious, pretending to be the characters. Total shit show.” Sugawara says matter of factly. “Were your friends really gonna have you suffer through that?”

“I’m actually here alone.” The four of them share a look before Haku turns back to you.

“That means you have to hang out with us. We can’t let you fall into any first-timer traps.” He shoots you another smile that’s all dimples, and you feel your pulse quicken. Even under the wig, he’s the most attractive man you’ve seen all day. Maybe even all your life.

“Okay.” You may have just met these men, but you don’t have any internal alarm bells going off about spending time with them. Your possible blooming crush on Haku aside, you don’t feel any negative vibes.

“Now that that’s settled let’s go! I’m not sitting in the back of the room for the contest!” Sugawara takes the lead as you all fall in line and follow him to one of the main meeting rooms.

As the day wears on, you’re more than happy that you decided to spend your time with your new friends instead of wandering alone, letting the four of them take you to various panels that they deem worthy of your time. Haku, whom you now know as Namjoon, is nothing but sweet to you all day. He explains that he and his friends have been going to anime conventions since high school, and now that they’re all seasoned college students, they still make it a point to attend. He mentions that he’s dressed as Haku because Jin, his roommate who’s the most handsome Erin Yeager you’ve witnessed at the convention, was supposed to be Chihiro but backed out last minute for the “cooler” cosplay instead.

Sugawara, who you find out is named Yoongi, is roommates with the fourth member of the quartet, Hoseok, dressed as a very compelling Ash Ketchum. When you compliment him, he flashes you the biggest, sunniest smile you’ve ever laid eyes on. After the AMV contest, they take you to a History of Horror in Manga discussion, much to Hoseok’s constant complaints. Around lunchtime, the five of you leave the hotel and cross the street to look for food. After Jin and Hoseok argue over sushi versus burgers they ultimately have you choose. You opt for chicken, much to everyone’s delight.

Out of everyone, you find yourself talking more one on one to Namjoon, finding out you have quite a few things in common. You both share a love for music and nature and are plant parents, although you tend to kill more plants than keep them alive. Namjoon promises he’ll give you tips on keeping your plant babies alive and grins at you for what feels like the fiftieth time of the day. Each time, your stomach does somersaults, and you feel your skin heat up.

At the end of the night, as you’re all leaving the 18+ Bad Fanfiction Reading panel, you almost don’t want to part ways.

“We can’t let you leave without getting your number!” Jin shoves his phone into your hands, demanding you put your digits in. The other men do the same, with Namjoon being last, hand shaking as he presents his phone. A series of four beeps come through on your phone, signifying the text messages from the group.

All of you are staying upstairs in the hotel rooms, so together, you head for the guest-only elevators as Yoongi announces the panels and events he’s planning for you all to go to tomorrow. Hoseok makes it a point to say that you’re included and that you’re now friends, therefore you have no choice but to spend the rest of the convention with them. Of course, you don’t object and agree to meet them downstairs tomorrow morning.

Your room is on the 8th floor, while their rooms are on the 10th, so you reach your floor first. Preparing to say your goodbyes for the night, you step out of the elevator and send a wave, but before the doors close, Namjoon is shoved out beside you.

“Joon will walk you to your room!” Hoseok calls as the doors close.

“Yeah, we’ll see you in a few, Namjoon!” Yoongi adds, then the doors are shut, and the elevator keeps going up.

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, please lead the way. I’ll make sure you get to your room, okay.”

Feeling nervous yourself, you simply nod as he follows you the short distance to your room.

“This is me,” you move to the door, and you both stop in front of it. Seconds tick by with the two of you staring at one another while you try and come up with something to say.

“Today was great,” Namjoon says at the same time you do, making both of you chuckle. “Sorry, go ahead first.”

“I just wanted to say thank you for inviting me along with you all today. I had a lot of fun and didn’t think I could’ve done so if I was by myself.”

“Really?” Namjoon says, looking surprised. “I thought we would’ve been a little too high energy for you. You really had a good time? Today made you happy?”

“Yes. I am happy. Because I was able to meet someone like you.” You blurt the latter part out and watch as his eyes widen and a dark shade of red blossoms over his cheeks.

“I, uh, I’m glad you feel that way. I’m really happy I was able to meet someone like you too.” Namjoon’s eyes dart down to your lips momentarily before he lets out a cough. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. Make sure to meet us downstairs at ten on the dot. If you’re late, Jin will probably nag you for the rest of the convention.” He hesitates momentarily, then reaches out to pull you into a hug. You instantly melt in his hold, inhaling the warm cinnamon scent of whatever Namjoon’s got on.

Your grip on his waist tightens at the same time his arms around your shoulders do. You’re not sure who pulls away first, but reluctantly, you do release each other. Namjoon gives you another goodbye, and then he’s shuffling down the hallway and back towards the elevator.

Once he’s around the corner, you let yourself into your room, his scent still in your nose, and the feeling of his toned arms around you still lingering. How you managed to run into a great group of friends on the first day, you don’t know, but you’re not about to question it. The only thing you worry about is how you can make your cosplay planned for day two as cute as possible, now that you’ve got someone to impress.

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the-villian-i-seem-to-be · 4 years

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I have a request that you don't have to do if you don't want.

Would you write a yandere William and Sherlock from Yuukokou no Moriarty? Or are you not interested?

Damn! Yandere William and Yandere Sherlock!! Ok so both or separate? I'll do both!!

(Y/N) could feel themselves grow weary of the rising tension between her and Sherlock. You see, (Y/N) is a journalist who loves to write about Sherlocks cases in the newspaper. They always are accompanying him for cases with Dr. Watson, even if the detective dislikes her nosy attitude to his work life and personal life. But the journalist could tell he was warming up to her. Even if it was only.

Anyway, she decided to accompany Sherlock and Dr. Watson on another case. Though the doctor had caught the flu and had given her his train ticket to make sure Sherlock wouldn't cause trouble on one of his cases with Inspector Lestrade. So she agreed and three rode off to York for his case. Though it was a waste of time in detectives eyes once he couldn't find what he was looking for. He started spew a few curses under his breath once Mr. Lestrade went to get a newspaper.

Saying he'll come to the train car a bit later before it takes off. So the journalist and detective were alone on the boarding dock. Heading to their train. "Honestly, to hell with your death by illness. Get yourself killed, seriously.."

Sherlock utters with clear agitation in his voice. "Aw, c'mon detective Sherlock. It's okay, we can always come back and take another look around!" The (h/c)-nette smiles, hoping it would ease his worries.

Which didn't work because it seemed as if he grew more upset.

"I should of shot him when I could. If I had..."

(Y/N)'s knew he was talking about the Mr. Hope case. Though she never thought he should of killed him! "Sherlock-!" He cuts her off, "if I had killed I would have been one step closer to a huge mystery!"

"We both know that you would of done it if given the chance! You don't even care for the mystery, only the story that gets coverage!" "That isn't true!" The journalist hollars, making Sherlock turn quiet.

Sucking in a shaky breath, they try to speak more calmly. "I may go on your cases for a story. But I also care about the people in them. Sherlock, I don't want to write a article about you killing a man, and for what? A bigger mystery that you want to solve?"

"I.. I thought you weren't like that, I thought you actually seeked the truth, but not the way I hoped for." They say, sadly starring at the dark haired male in front of them. "I'll meet you in train car shortly, I-I, need a minute to calm my nerves." As the woman walks off, Sherlock scowls at his actions.

"That is-I didn't-" the male sighs and ruffles his hair. His mood and thoughts in a jumble. Pulling out a cigarette, he lights it up. Taking in the toxic fumes into his lungs to calm himself and clear his head.

(Y/N) finds herself siting in the food car, she rather be on her lonsome than deal with a unpleasant Sherlock. He was acting childish and locked her out of their shared car. So she decided to wait for his anger to subsidize. Though they were growing antsy and they needed to talk this out with Sherlock. She didn't want their supposed "one sided friendship" to end!? He let her try his cigarette once.

Only after, thought she was dying after taking a puff of the cancer stick and he laughed at her. Not only that, but she was given the privilege to hear him play the violin once before he kicked her out of his house for bothering him! Sighing, she felt her pumped up spirit slowly fading into a husk.

"Enough sulking, get a grip!" She sits up and slaps her cheeks. Frightening the waiter that waited for her to make her order. "M-miss are you alright?" Turning her eyes to the waiter with determination, she nods. Telling the waiter she wasn't ready to order yet.

Getting out of her seat, she was about to head over to Sherlock. Though her eyes find a familiar blond headed man sitting in one of the booths a little farther from her's.

Stepping cautiously to his booth, she holds her head up high an stands in front of him. "Mr. Professor Moriarty..?" The blonde male looks up from his empty dish and his red rubies stare at her with confusion and another emotion she couldn't quite place. "Mr. Professor! It truly is you!"

"My god, how are you? It's been quite awhile since I saw you." The mathematician smiles at her, "yes, hello Ms. (Y/N), I am well. How are you?"

The woman smiles gleefully, "yes I have-!" She held back her tongue as the memories with Sherlock resurface. Yet her smile stayed stuck to her lips. "Uh.. I should go. I don't want to over stay my welcome-" "there's no need for you to leave just yet. Me and my brother were getting quite bored. Please sit awhile, it will be nice to talk once more."

Mr. Moriarty says politely, letting her join them. The Journalist tries to force herself to decline, yet, she may never take this opportunity to sit to a nobleman as interesting as him ever again. She couldn't miss her chance! She can just make some small chit chat then run off after to talk to Sherlock! Genius!

"Alright.. But not for long, I need to talk with a friend of mine after." "A friend?" The second oldest Moriarty questions, his tone slightly cold. (Y/N) doesn't bother to notice his tone and sits down next to Williams brother. "Yes, I came here with a friend, well, in my opinion. I'm pretty sure he hates my guts now, but he's still a close companion of mine" (Y/N) chuckles dryly.

"I, see. I hope the two of you are, well." He replies stiffly, hiding a unhappy look with a smile. Though his observant brother could tell that he was slowly growing annoyed by her words.

"If you do mind me asking, but how do you know of my brother Ms. (Y/N)?" Louis asks her, her focus shifts to the male next to her.

Her eyes light up at Louis. "Ah, we met on the Noahtic. I was covering a story about a performance that was going to be held on it. I met Mr. Moriarty at a small gathering held on the ship floors. I offered him a drink and the two of us chatted for awhile." (Y/N) said with sheepish grin.

"Then I heard a murder had occured durring the performance. I was so shocked yet, forgive me for saying this, but thrilled! This was something that needed to be shown to the public- oh um, forgive me for blabbering!" (Y/N) blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand to stop herself.

William just chuckles at her, shaking his head. "It's quite alright. I didn't know you were so passionate about your job. I find it very endearing and admirable." (Y/N) flushed from his compliments, letting her hand fall to her lap as she gave him a sweet smile. "Thank you, Professor Moriarty. That's very kind of you."

Before William could say another word, Inspector Lestrade walks up to the booth. "(L/N)?" Looking up to see who had called her, she sees the Inspector. Quickly getting up from her seat, she greets him awkwardly.

"Is this the man you said that "hates your guts" ?" William questions, though his eyes don't glare at him. "NO, NO, NO, NO!" Flailing her hands around, she tries to clear up the misunderstanding. "I was joking!"

"Mr. Lestrade doesn't hate me! I was talking about someone else! Not him!!" The journalist cries out, the Inspector sighs and shakes his head.

"I apologize for my acquaintance, Mr..?" "Oh, this is Professor Moriarty! And the one sitting across from is his brother." (Y/N) introduces them to Mr. Lestrade like nothing had ever happened. Or at least pretending too.

"Professor Moriarty and Mr. Moriarty, this is Inspector Lestrade. He's another good friend of mine. He works for the Scotland Yard. Pretty neat right?"

(Y/N) winks, doing small jazz hands to make his introduction a little interesting. "(Y/N), why aren't you with-" before the Inspector could finish his sentence. A shrill scream of woman was heard.

~°~

Running to source of the scream. (Y/N) follows behind the youngest Moriarty and Inspector Lestrade. She bumps into one of the passengers and apologizes. Not looking at who she bumped into.

(Y/N) could hear Sherlock and Professor Moriarty discus. Growing immensely curious, she wiggled her way through the two men. Walking up to Sherlock and

"What happened?!" She said, but mostly to Sherlock who arrived before her. Who was looking through a peep hole of one of the rooms inside the train car.

"Look for yourself." He remarks, stepping away from the peep hole. (Y/N) hesitates for a moment, though creates false courage to see what happened. But was then was stopped by Sherlocks hand on her shoulder.

He didn't stare at her in the eye like normally, instead her shirt. Confused, (Y/N) looks down, she regrets it soon after. There, on her shirt was fresh blood. Even some smeared on her hands. "What.."

All eyes focused solely on her, the air quiet as she was panicking inside her mind. "It seems we have a valuable prize in our game now to make things more interesting." William said to the shocked detective, who gave the noble man a twisted smirk. "I guess so, I don't plan on losing, Liam." A disturbing smile crawls onto the crime consultant.

"Neither do I."

(Okay, this ask went a LOT longer than expected. I wanted to make it shorter but a rush of creativity hit me because I was re-watching ep 10 of Yuukoku No Moriarty! And reading the manga!! Yes!! And I hope I made them very Yandere-ish.)

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #(y/n)#william james moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty sherlock #yuukoku no moriarty sherlock x reader

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torilovestowrite · 4 years

Text

[18+] Dabi x Reader; Try Again pt. 10.5

Synopsis: Years ago, (Y/n) was left by her villain boyfriend, Dabi after discovering an unexpected news. Ever since then, she never had a lover— focusing on her only son, Yuta. Later on, she meets Todoroki Touya— a new co-worker who seem to be persistent towards winning her heart and attention.

Ship: Dabi x Fem! Reader

❗❗❗Content Warning: Mentions of Abortion, Unplanned Pregnancy, Manga spoilers, Dabi is a Todoroki theory

chapter navigation

A/N: THIS IS SMUT SOOOO PLS CLICK READ MORE!!

WARNING: SOFT/VANILLA SECKS WITH OUR VERY OWN TOUYA UwU

"Hey," Y/n greeted Touya who entered her room at the late midnight. "Do you need anything?"

Two fucking weeks since the kitchen incident. And guess what? Both of them are back together in each others' arms; their love becoming sweeter than the one that was formed in the past. Both of them started to interact sweetly in front of Yuta— Touya placing an arm around Y/n's shoulder while she lays her head closer towards him. The young boy found it odd— but either way, the young h/c-haired lad felt happy for his mother. She started smiling again— which made Yuta think that she was joyful with having a companion.

If there's something that Y/n loved in terms of Touya's changes, that would be his approach. He was no longer the rough and playful Dabi who never took a thing seriously— but Touya, a good father to Yuta and a great lover towards her. His gentle moves made her heart topple and shake; how he'd be sweet towards their son; no signs of Dabi at all, Y/n thought.

"Yeah, you." Touya replied, sitting on the space beside her bed and hugging her— putting his arms around her waist. Y/n smiled at this and began to play with his red fluffy hair. "I need you right now."

The h/c-haired lady chuckled in response as she listened to Touya, asking him a question. "Sweet. What's the deal today?"

"Nothing really. Just want to cuddle with you a bit, I guess." Touya answered, planting a peck on her lips. "I just miss spending time with you like this as much as before..."

Touya swore that he could hear every beating of her heart; how fast it is— yet calm. It was a beautiful sound to his ears. The sound even grew louder as they both looked at each others' face; a small smile planted on their lips.

"Can I..." The red-haired man looked at her to ask for permission, caressing Y/n's face lightly while staring at her lips. "Can I give you a kiss?"

As soon as the young lady nodded in reply, Touya immediately attacked her lips— giving her a heated and intense makeout session. Y/n glanced to the side to see if the door was locked— and gladly, it was. She swears to god, she'll immediately die if Yuta see them like this. It wasn't too soon until she focused on the beautiful person whose hands were roaming around her body— Touya. Y/n began playing with his hair while kissing back— as they both began to lay on the bed. His body was placed between her legs— which were spread as he was gently tracing circles on her thighs while still kissing her.

Few more seconds, Touya pulled away from the kiss— only to see a flustered and panting Y/n; the sight was too cute— truly, only for his eyes to see. Her legs were spread while her lips were lightly parted. Her e/c eyes were also half-lidded while both of her hands were clenching on the sheets. No matter how much he tries to be soft and gentle, he always ends up being rough and feral. But tonight, Touya wants to give her the love that she deserves— the love that was taken away from her arms few years ago.

"Damn, I didn't know this was you meant by kiss." Y/n chuckled as she lightly pinched his cheeks.

Touya replied, looking down in embarrassment," Sorry. I couldn't help it."

"No. Don't be sorry." Y/n responded and gave him a warm hug. "I also want to feel you tonight, Touya."

They continued making out— until Touya began living marks from her chest to her neck— rubbing his growing erection on the slit between her legs. Y/n let out small whimpers as he began touching her clit while his lips were sucking on her nipples.

"A-ah... Touya." Y/n moaned as he continued to make her feel better with his hands and lips.

In his thoughts, she deserves this after all. Touya knew that he should be compensating for all these years of absence. And this is just one of the ways he could express his gratitude— for raising Yuta well and for giving him a chance to be a better father and make up for all those years that he should have been there.

Few seconds later, Y/n began to undress him— and he did the same. As she was lying naked on the bed, Touya began to insert a single digit inside her core— earning a light yelp from her. A small smirk appeared from his lips. Just, how much did he miss seeing her like this? He could feel her insides clenching as she began arching her back— but he took his fingers out, which earned a frustrated panting from her.

"You wanted to feel me, right?" Touya whispered lovingly, "I want you to cum on my dick, not on my fingers. Is that okay with you?"

Y/n nodded in response as the red-haired male positioned himself in between her legs, slowly entering her tight insides; her voice letting out a loud gasp as she tightened her grip around his toned arms. Her eyes were closed— trying to ease herself from the pain.

It's been years since she did this with someone. And now, it all feels new. But truly, Y/n appreciates Touya's desire to make her feel better. Moments later, when the discomfort on her face disappeared, Touya started to move— the speed of his thrusts slowly increasing every time he moves. The young lady could only let out light whimpers as her back began to arch— immediately cumming from the sensation.

"You came that easy," Touya planted a kiss on her lips. "But that's okay."

This was something new to Y/n. It's been so long since she had loving sex with Touya. During his past Dabi days, they would only have a loving session evert after fights— which rarely happens. Usually, it was quickies or rough sex. This was something unordinary— but the young lady liked this side of him.

As Touya began to pick up his pace, he began to let out grunts— his grip slowly tightening. He pants, "I-I'm going to cum."

Her soft thighs began to wrap around his waist tighter, bringing his body closer as he spurted his seed inside her tightening core. It was an amazing feeling for the both of them. The redhead immediately plopped himself on top of Y/n's body— inhaling the scent of the tired woman who pecked his forehead.

"You can sleep here for tonight." Y/n stated as she was playing his hair with her soft hands as he was laying on the top of her chest.

"Totally," Touya let out an exhausted chuckle in reply. "I'd love that."

The both of them lay in each others' arms that night— making up for the years of being separated. Things weren't surely easy for the both of them. Y/n and Touya faced the hardships that the world has to offer as individuals; but as soon as they felt the warmth of each others' arms, they knew that everything was designed; and that every obstacle that they went through— were all worth it.

Taglist [OPEN]: @babayaga67 @marydragneell @xxtrash-kingxx @paranoiac-666 @velvet-kissesss @orenjineki @mermaid-starlet @ikita454 @yo-girl-lunar @pansexual-booknerd @daimiyu @marvelousbakugou @peculiarinsomniac @cutesnakemum @sam-i-am-1025 @lawlesshedgehog @sonderkook @miss-buttersworth @threbony @noonewouldlisten25 @missalicebaskerville

A/N: vanilla secks w touya/dabi should be a thing in the fandom :<<

#bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagines #dabi headcanon #dabi x y/n #dabi fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #bnha touya #touya todoroki #touya x reader #touya x y/n #todoroki touya x reader

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brokutosan · 4 years

Text

Title. Before The Snow Falls, I Would Love to See You

Pairing. Hinata Shouyou x Fem!Reader. Very slight mentions of Yamayachi!

Summary. In which after two years, he’s finally coming home.

Warnings. Manga spoilers up to chapter 379. Super short, but fluffy. Title is a line from ‘An Early Winter Letter’ by the Korean poet Kim Yong-taek.

Being in a relationship with Hinata Shouyou meant being in a relationship with his love for volleyball as well. But when that love led him to Brazil, on the other side of the world of all places, Y/N had nearly gone ballistic.

Working around his tight volleyball schedule in highschool was one thing, but having to accommodate to him being in a whole different country was a whole different matter all on its own! Making a relationship work was hard enough with the other at your side, but putting an ocean between that bond makes it that much more challenging. Besides, Hinata had only grown the balls to confess to her long after their highschool graduation. Meaning when Hinata left for Brazil, they’ve only been dating for a few weeks, maybe a month or two at best. Preparing to fly across the world three weeks into their relationship was a minor setback, Hinata once said.

Though Tsukishima argued that the mere fact that they were actually dating deserves a recognition all on its own. “Like two lovesick idiots that were too blind to notice their mutual feelings for three years,” He said. (Hinata hates how Yamaguchi and Kageyama wholeheartedly agreed, feeling betrayed by his own friends for never telling him his feeling were requited).

And the beanpole was correct. Hinata took too long to confess and he couldn’t find it in his heart to blame Y/N, who was probably just as clueless as him. Had he sucked up the balls to do it literally anytime in his highschool years, then maybe having a highschool sweetheart would have been another thing he could lord over Kageyama (he’s only half joking).

Though at the end of the day, Hinata still confessed and his feelings were returned, or even better, she pined after him all of highschool too! (“Yeah, that’s not something to be proud of.” Yachi told him with pure sympathy in her eyes the night Hinata told her he confessed). And despite thousands of miles between them, his relationship with Y/N is still far stronger than Kageyama’s relationship with his stupid milk cartons. (God, he really needs to help that guy get a girlfriend).

Anyways, emotional whirlwind and memories over dating his dream girl aside, Hinata is finally coming home! Two years of texts, calls, and the few handful of weekend visits led up to this moment when Hinata, in all his sun kissed glory, can finally properly announce his homecoming to all those he’s missed while living alone in Brazil.

His mom, Natsu, the Karasuno boys, even Kageyama and Tsukishima (those slimy bastards), Yachi, and most importantly, Y/N. No longer does he have to crave her presence during the lonely nights, tossing and turning until Pedro yells at him to go to sleep. No longer does he have to wish he could slip into his cellphone where the pictures of them together has helped him survive long days spent without her. No longer does he have to worry about crossing oceans to have her in his hold again, because he’s finally coming home.

Hinata lets his excitement get the best of him and sprints towards the airport exit, where, lo and behold, he spots her standing in the crowd. Granted it’s easier to spot her next to Yamaguchi, who’s about six feet tall. Oh, and also there’s that hideous poster in his hand, which looks like the work of a toddler. He tries not to let out a laugh as he approaches them.

“Shou!” Y/N screeches, momentarily dropping the bouquet of flowers in her hands as she bolts towards him. Hinata simply laughs as he lets go of his bags in order to catch her in his arms. In one fluid motion, he tightens his hold on her back, supporting her legs that are wrapped around his waist.

“I knew you couldn’t keep it cool.” Yamaguchi chuckles as he watches the event unfold. Y/N sticks out a tongue from over Hinata’s (much broader) shoulders as she tightens her hold on her boyfriend.

“You’re not allowed to leave me, ever.” She pouts. Hinata gushes while Yamaguchi cringes at the couple in front of him.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“Okay! Let’s get out of here, I’m starving!” Yamaguchi exclaims, clapping his hands together before reaching out for one of Hinata’s suitcases. “There’s this ramen place that recently opened up, and I can’t wait to try it! Oh, Hitoka-chan said she’ll meet us there!”

“Did he ever grow the balls to confess?” Hinata whispers to Y/N after setting her down. She shakes her head ‘no’ and adds, “No, he’s much worse than you.”

“I can still hear you two!”

“Woah, Hinata, you got so tanned!” Yachi says upon arriving at the table. She sets her bag down in front of her before taking a seat beside one blushing Yamaguchi. “You look good!”

Hinata says something that can’t be understood, mostly because his mouth is full of food. Y/N smacks his arm for being gross, Yamaguchi proceeds to wipe down everything that was in the ‘splash zone’ and Yachi laughs at her friends.

“Ew, say it don’t spray it, moron!” Y/N scolds, taking a napkin and wiping Hinata’s mouth. The scene reminds Yamaguchi of his little cousin.

“It’s a shame Tsukishima-kun and Kageyama couldn’t make it.” Yachi sighs, reminiscing her highschool days. “It’s fine, I’ll see those jerks eventually.” Hinata responds, this time with an empty mouth.

“Ah! Speaking of, mind giving this to that Four-Eyed-jerk face for me?” Hinata reaches for his backpack and pulls out something shockingly pink and equally sparkly. All three eyes turn to the horrid thing he’s holding up so proudly, a ‘Rio de Janeiro!’ shirt that looks like it straight up got shit out by a unicorn.

“I -” Yamaguchi speaks up first, reaching for the shirt with trembling hands.

Yachi is the first to snap out of her trance, and giggles out, “I’m surprised you didn’t get one for Kageyama.” Hinata’s response is a shit eating grin, all while reaching in his bag for a matching shirt, this time a shocking shade of red. “First thing I’m doing in Tokyo is recording his reaction.”

Y/N gives him an unamused look, somehow not surprised at her boyfriend’s childishness. Hinata turns to her with a familiar glint in his eyes. “Y/N! I got you one to-”

“I’m shipping your ass back to Brazil if you so as much take that thing out.” Hinata gulps, shoving his hands back in his bag and nods his head vigorously. Their two friends laugh from across the table, reminiscing about the very familiar scene in front of them.

“Nice to know some things never change.” Yamaguchi lets out a dreamy sigh. Yachi simply nods in agreement.

“By the way, what’s your plan Hinata? What team are you thinking of?” Hinata’s mouth is stuffed, but Y/N pinched his thigh before he could even think of talking with his mouth full again. He swallows everything in his mouth and answers, “The Jackals!”

“Is there a particular reason why? Oh! Is it ‘cus Bokuto-san’s playing there?” Yachi asks.

“Wait really?!” Hinata’s leaning over the table, a bewildered look in his eyes. “Oh man! I didn’t even know that! I was just gonna go ‘cus they’re the best team holding tryouts right now!”

The pair, Yamaguchi and Yachi, once again look at him out of disbelief. “Wait, why does that totally sound like something you’d do?!”

“Because it is.” Y/N answers, not as surprised as her friends since she’s heard him blabber about this for the past month leading up to this day. Still, it was nice to see him get so excited for something.

“Yeah - and I, being the perfect girlfriend that I am, even did research on all the V.League teams and made a powerpoint about their strengths and weaknesses. And then this idiot tells me he already had his mind set on the Jackals because they’re the only team holding tryouts within the same month he’s coming home.”

Hinata fiddles with his fingers a bit, before speaking up, “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that babe. If you told me beforehand I would’ve checked out your presentation!”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise!” Yachi and Yamaguchi simply watch their friends with smiles on their faces.

“They’re totally forgetting we’re still here.”

“Yup.”

The four friends finish their meal, heading out into the night and going their separate ways.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow! I’m gonna go walk Yachi home!” Yamaguchi calls out. Hinata has a cheeky grin on his face and Y/N is making kissy faces while connecting her hands into a heart. These idiots are perfect for each other, Yamaguchi thinks to himself.

The two immediately halt their motions when Yachi turns around to say her goodbyes, fake innocent smiles adorning their faces. “See ‘ya next time, Hitoka-chan!” Y/N smiles, sending one more wink at Yamaguchi’s direction for good measure. Her and Hinata laugh as he flips them off the moment Yachi turns the other way.

“Ah, young love. Remember when that was us?” Hinata muses like an old man. Y/N snorts in response, “Yeah, I remember pulling all my hair out wondering whether or not you liked me back!”

Hinata chuckles, reaching for her free hand. “I think it’s safe to say that you were worth the wait.” Y/N blushes as he brings her hand up to his lips, placing a light peck on the back of her hand. God, the things this guy can do to her.

“Yeah, yeah.” She mumbles, a soft smile on her face as she’s finally all alone with the man she’s been missing for the last two years.

“Shouyou.” She calls out. He stops in his tracks, looking at her with those beautiful brown eyes. He looks back at her beautiful form standing under the street lights, and wonders how in the world he got so lucky with her. He notices her eyes are a little teary, and before he can voice his worries, he’s interrupted by a,

“Welcome home.” The sentence is simple enough, yet conveys so much emotion he just knew she’s been holding in this whole night. With his other hand, he cups her face and wipes away a stray tear with his thumb.

“I’m finally home.”

A/N. Another reupload! Originally meant to be a contribution to Hinata’s birthday, but either way, I love him. - chuu

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshots #hq imagines #hq scenarios #hq x reader #hq oneshots #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo imagine #hinata shoyo scenario #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo oneshot #karasuno

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hajike · 4 years

Text

hitsuhina: Forecast

For: alexiethymia for the hitsuhina gift exchange! Feel free to check it out on AO3 too :)

Words: 2.3k

Notes: Set post-manga ending and based off your lovely headcanon -

-Renji, once when he was really drunk, consolingly put his hand on Hitsugaya’s shoulder as if to say he understood. Hitsugaya’s ensuing glare could freeze his soul and he then realized that it was only because he was Hinamori’s friend that he wasn’t cut down on the spot.

Whatever had happened on the trip to and back from the 6th Division’s Senkaimon had apparently completely rattled Renji’s brain. Somewhere along the way to return Ichigo and his friends to the Human world after the wedding reception, Renji had taken whatever speck of common sense he had and promptly tossed it out with the last pathetic remnants of his self preservation.

Or maybe, Toshiro reasoned, they had gotten attacked by some remaining Quincy. Or Arrancar. Or even bloody Captain Mayuri looking to test out his new toys on some unsuspecting idiots idiots. Hell, maybe this wasn’t even Renji, maybe this was some Reigi clone, because the real Renji would know better than to—

“—keep holding strong, Captain Hitsugaya! The bond between you two is strong, stronger after everything, just like ours! Happiness is still in reach!”

Toshiro eyed the arm firmly draped over his shoulder with no small measure of disgust. Renji appeared oblivious to it. The vice captain’s other hand was frantically wiping the horrid mix of tears and snot streaming from his face as he kept choking out, “I know, Captain Hitsugaya, that if you persevere! If you persevere, you too will be in my position one day, joined together with your childhood—“

The small bit of reiatsu that leaked out of him was enough to freeze the sake cups before them solid. As well as a good portion of the mess on Renji’s face, along with part of his hakama sleeve. “Ah! My nose! What—“

Renji lifted his slightly frostbitten head to meet Toshiro's stare and froze. What little of a drunken flush he had left quickly bled into a look of deep regret. Ah, the poor man had sobered up some. Enough, at least, to realize that it was only the smallest of margins that kept him still able to use his extremities, margins that included the fact he was a vice-captain of the Gotei 13, that he had imbibed enough sake to not be completely in control of his motor functions, as well as the most important—

“Oh, Renji! Congratulations again!” Momo’s voice echoed through the bar, even through the din of Rangiku appearing to be challenging Captain Kensei to another drinking game in an effort to keep him from dragging away his already unconscious lieutenants away. Pour souls.

Toshiro forced himself to pay some attention to the ensuing scuffle, even as his childhood friend smiled across the table, her face beaming with a drunken flush and pure joy. Joy currently directed at the man putting careful distance between him, rubbing at the icicles that still clung to his nose.

Renji’s face was lit up in relief at her arrival. “Momo! Just in time!”

Toshiro shot him a sharp look just as Momo blinked. “Eh?”

Renji darted looks between the both of them - Toshiro’s face blackened with impending doom and Momo’s slight confused smile, one of her hands brushing back a small strand of hair that had fallen from her intricate bun. The newlywed's mouth opened and closed, once, twice, and just as Toshiro was rather sure the man was about to stick his foot in it—

Rukia slid in neatly beside him at the head of the table, her arm linking with his. Her face was a mask of polite geniality of the Kuchiki variety. “Ah, my apologies Captain Hitsugaya and Vice Captain Hinamori! I’m sure what my husband meant to say was, how glad he was that the two of you could make it to our reception! And with everything seeming to wrap up, you’re both just in time to give last congratulations.”

It was a shoddy deception but effective, Toshiro had to admit. Momo’s face immediately brightened at seeing the now married pair. Renji was staring at his wife like she was Bodhisattva come again. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t a far cry from how he typically looked at her so there was every chance he had already forgotten the precarious position his loose lips had put him in.

“Rukia! Rukia, we’re married! In the marriage registry! Together!”

Definitely. He’d definitely forgotten. And gotten sidetracked enough that he was gushing about his wife again, same as when he’d first sat down next to Toshiro. Although now she had appropriately substituted in as his arm rest, thank the frozen heavens. Rukia’s answering smile as she leaned into his shoulder was full of amusement and a near overflowing affection. “Yea, Renji. I was there.”

Toshiro couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Renji’s answering cheer, knowing it was only the fact he’d frozen the sake in his cup that it didn’t spill all over the inebriated man and his now wife. Although Rukia probably wouldn’t have minded much, not with the lovestruck look on her face from her husband’s excitement.

The soft moment was interrupted by a sudden hiccup, following by the sound of high pitched sob. Ah, Toshiro noted with a wry smile, crybaby Momo strikes again.

“Rukia, Renji…I’m so happy you’re together!” She was looking at the linked pair of Vice Captains with tears streaming down her cheeks, frantically wiping at an eye with the corner of her kimono. “So..hic…happy!”

Toshiro frowned. Ah, she was gonna mess up the sleeve. Rangiku had gushed about the kimono to him earlier, calling her one of her best selections apart from her own peony patterned one, selections that had taken a good half a day longer than the time off she’d gotten approved for. He’d complained as much as expected, but it hadn’t been that much of a chore taking over the paperwork. Not when they’d both returned flush faced and grinning over the spoils of their fabric battle, sharing excited giggles and promises to visit that draper’s again. And besides, paperwork actually got done faster without Rangiku there to stuff the longer forms in the back of her cabinet.

Momo’s own kimono pattern was dotted with peach blossoms and was a soft blue that left the whiteish pink petals as a striking contrast. A far cry from the dull brown she’d used to favor in their youth. Then again, it had been some time since he’d even seen her with a new kimono. Or new anything.

Resolving to give Rangiku some leeway the next time she insisted on rushing off for another girl’s shopping spree in the human realm, Toshiro jumped in, “Stupid Momo. Aren’t you the one who told them they had to have a wedding ceremony? Now you’re going to spend the entire time crying?”

She sniffed in response. “I can’t help it! It’s so wonderful! After everything, it feels like my heart is boiling over in excitement!”

“Eh? You sure it ain’t just the entire bottle of fruit sake you finished on your own?”

“Shiro! I did not!

He shrugged, leaning on an elbow. “Right, right. Your zanpaktou must have just evaporated it, huh?”

Momo puffed out her cheeks, ready to snap back just like her sword’s release, only for a crash from the other end of the bar to take their attention. For heaven’s sake. Toshiro groaned. He took his eyes off Vice Captain for five seconds and this.

Apparently Captain Kensei was not at all as straight laced as he had been led to believe. Or maybe he still didn’t understand exactly why it was that no one ever accepted a drinking battle with the Vice Captain Matsumoto. Toshiro had seen members of the eleventh division clear a path for her the day after one particular competition, one where he’d heard on good sources that both Madarame and Yumichika had needed to be sent to the fourth after. Commander Kyōraku was one of the few that could keep up with her, although with his new duties he hadn’t had much time…which might explain why Rangiku was currently trying to induct Kensei into her drunken circle.

“Ha! You’re just on three? I’m on four, Captain of the Ninth, four! Four whole bottles of sake!”

Mashiro had woken up from her slumber, although not necessary her stupor, to cheer her captain on. “Waa, Kensei! You’re losing, you’re really losing! Your super lieutenant is so disappointed!”

Hisagi slurred next to her, “Your super-duper lieutenant is still here for you, Captain!”

Red faced and swaying a little, Rangiku still shot him a look, “Ah, Shuuhei, you’re really rooting against me? I’m hurt! Our drinking relationship means nothing to you, huh?”

“Oi, don’t try and turn my vice captain against me,” Kensei growled, eyes narrowed and barely supporting himself on the table with a hand. “Loyalty is everything in the ninth! Right, Hisagi!”

“Ah, no, I mean,” Hisagi waved his hands around, “As your vice captain I’m rooting for you, Captain! By as a friend I’m also rooting for Rangiku! Not that I don’t see Captain as a friend, I—“

“Wait, how many bottles?” Rukia leapt from her seat, yelling out, "Idiots, we’re covering this one, you’re gonna use up all our gift money!”

Renji, who had apparently been relying on his wife to sit up straight, cursed as he started to slip sideways. Toshiro watched with amusement as Momo struggled to catch him before he broke his head open on the table. He kicked away the leg of an already passed out Kira before she tripped on it, ignoring the way the man drunkenly groaned and rolled over, cuddling a sake bottle to his chest.

Rangiku was absolutely unashamed facing the new bride. “Ah, ah, already tight with the purse! Just ask your brother, I’m such Captain Kuchiki would love to assist his lovely little sister!”

“Like hell I’m asking my older brother to cover you drunkards! I’m taking this out of the seventh and tenth division budgets, don’t think I won’t!” Rukia shot back.

Rangiku puffed up, pumping a fist holding a sake cup in the air. “Too bad! Captain already cut my expenses off from the division! Besides, I have! No money! Hah!”

“Wow,” Mashiro said, eyes wide and nursing another sake bottle. “You say that so proudly, Rangiku! Amazing!”

Kensei looked at them with a stricken face. “Wait…am I on the hook for this? Dammit, you evil witch! You’re worse than Lisa!”

Beside him, Momo laughed, light and free. Toshiro couldn’t help but tear his eyes away from the developing scene again to watch her. She’d managed to balance Renji before he hit the table, which was good, although the man had already broken free to cheer his wife on in her berating of their drunkard friends. Quite loudly, if he might add. Momo seemed none too put off by it, her laugh only growing louder as Renji offered to back Rukia up in beating the sake out of them. Toshiro barely registered the noise, attention entirely fixed onto his childhood friend.

It’d been…a long time since he’d seen her laugh like that. Growing up her smile was a given, as regular as the sun rising in the morning or one of his spinning tops knocking everyone else’s out. She’d smile at everyone, everything, and always saved that brighter smile for when he was looking at her and returning it.

Granny smiled at him too, but it wasn’t the same. Didn’t feel the same, anyways. Momo had always smiled like she was welcoming the world home, taking everything around her in and finding such delight in it that it couldn’t help but spill over her face. Her smile was energy, condensed, and he’d coveted it like a man starved.

And maybe he had been. It had certainly felt like he was wasting away whenever she was upset, or hurt, or during those long months she’d been in the fourth and twelve divisions recovering from the betrayals of a world that dared not value her enough. Her. Of all people.

Other could tease him all they wanted on their childhood friendship, their suspicions of further feelings, but Toshiro never spared a thought for what they thought, only following what he knew. And what he knew was that Momo was the most important person in the world to him. That he would protect her, always, that smile of hers, the light of hers, that unending warmth she so freely gave, every bit of her light that graced this world and blessed him with the opportunity to bask in it.

It felt greedy to ask for more, when he’d already been given so much. And yet…

As Rukia made the ill formed decision to challenge Rangiku to a drinking battle for the money, Momo’s giggles turned to quick snorts of amusement. When Rukia began to argue about taking shots of alcohol per body mass instead of cups, and that Rangiku counted as three of her, her snorts turned into peels of laughter that left gasping, following by — a rather loud burp.

Toshiro raised his eyebrows in astonishment. The noise managed to wake up Kira for a second, who promptly hit his head on the underside of the table and passed out again.

Momo clapped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. Toshiro slowly smiled at her and she flushed further red. “It—it was the sake!”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, unconvinced. She noticed and hunched her shoulders, kimono wrinkling at the action.

“It was!”

Toshiro leaned his chin against his hand. “Bed wetter, cry baby, and burp champion, Momo. You’re really wracking up the titles, huh?”

“Shiirroooo,” Momo groaned, burying her face in her hands completely. The sight of her, flushed and embarrassed because of him, sent a quick burst of contentment in his chest, a warmth that was at odds with the permanent chill of his reiatsu. He couldn’t help but let his smile soften as she continued to bluster in embarrassment, somehow also managing to press closer to his side as if trying to hide in his captain's haori. He absentmindedly tucked her closer, running a hand down her back.

A flicker of movement nearby caught his eye and Toshiro looked to see Renji giving him a smug look. It would be worthy of reprisal if not for the soft, understanding gleam in his eyes.

Toshiro humphed and turned his head away, making sure not to move so much that the inebriated woman latched onto his shoulder fell off.

Fine. Maybe Renji was onto something.

#hitsuhina #bleach #hitsuhina gift exchange #hinamori momo #toshiro hitsugaya #t

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frospino · 4 years

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What’s Your Name?

Pairing: Tsunashi Ryuunosuke x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Your new neighbour comes home a little drunk and tries to enter the wrong flat. Fluffy awkward first meetings.

A/N: Reposted because the last one didn’t show up in the tags! // It’s been a while since I fell in love with a 2D character! w This is me getting comfortable with writing for Ryuu and figuring out if the IDOLiSH7-fandom is interested in self-inserts.

The clinging of keys in the lock of your new flat scared you so much that you almost dropped your cup of Sleep Well-tea. While the sound would be fairly normal under other circumstances, the fact that you were currently inside of your flat, your first flat without roommates, certainly made this a strange occurrence. As did the deep baritone mumbling in a dialect—or was it a language?—you didn’t understand. You placed your tea on the kitchen counter and moved to the door on tiptoes, hoping to make as little noise as possible. You peaked through the peep hole and found a young man who, from the looks of it, tried to fit keys into the lock that just wouldn’t fit. A faint blush graced his features, and his stance was just the faintest bit wobbly. In a moment of Sherlock Homes-like clarity, you deduced that this was probably the neighbour you hadn’t met yet. He seemed drunk. Too drunk to notice that this wasn’t his flat? You decided that he most likely wasn’t a threat, unlocked the door and carefully opened it. For a short moment, the world turned into a slow-motion-film montage as your probably-neighbour registered that the door was being opened, still managed to lose his footing, and, with a burst of even more colour in his face, tumbled into you. Good thing I put away that cup of tea, you thought at the same time as registering that your probably-neighbour was incredibly toned, with an incredibly handsome face, and still smelled incredibly good. Even though he was incredibly drunk. All in all, it really was a less-than-ideal situation to meet your new neighbour. Your face burned hot with embarrassment as you helped the man onto his own two feet and took a couple of steps back. You couldn’t stop apologising, even though you weren’t really sure what you were apologising for. This was your flat, after all. Your flat, in which you performed the perfectly normal act of making a cup of tea before going to bed in your fluffy bunny pyjamas which were absolutely appropriate for your age. Your probably-neighbour, who was still incredibly attractive, but also really drunk, should be the one apologising. You blinked once, twice, as your brain tried to process what exactly he was saying. After a couple of seconds, you decided that he was speaking Japanese, but in a dialect you hadn’t encountered yet. The confusion must have been apparent on your face—Probably-Neighbour scratched the back of his head and flashed you a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I slip into Okinawan when I’m drunk.” The two of you stared at each other for a while longer. The silence stretched and filled the room. You used the moment to really take in Probably-Neighbour’s appearance—beautiful amber eyes, tan skin, brown hair that was probably styled a couple of hours ago. He looked as if he had stepped right out of a perfume advertisement… Get a hold of yourself! You bowed, all too aware of the awkwardness of this situation. “I’m—I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner! I, ah, I couldn’t get a hold of you—” You offered your name and the custom formalities, ending with a “I’m your new neighbour…?” If Probably-Neighbour had been a character in a manga, his face would have literally been three exclamation marks as it seemed to dawn on him that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. He bowed, and you suppressed the urge to reach out your hands to steady him should he fall again. “N-no, I’m sorry! For not introducing myself earlier, and for trying to enter your flat…! I’m Tsunashi Ryuunosuke, and I live—” He looked at the number on the plate next to your flat, and pointed to the right. “I live next door. I’m really sorry for the intrusion! I promise I’ll be more careful next time!” “It’s okay. I was just surprised, is all. I wasn’t asleep yet or anything, so you’re fine.” You smiled at him, hoping to put his mind at ease. True, this was about as awkward as first encounters could go, but that didn’t mean it had to continue that way, right? “Are you sure? You look ready for bed…” You felt your face grow hot again as you remembered your pyjamas. Bunny pyjamas. Pink, fluffy bunny pyjamas. “I’m sorry for my outfit—” “No no! It’s very cute! You look very cute in it. It’s super cute.” Another uncomfortable silence. Ryuunosuke groaned. “I didn’t mean that in an inappropriate way. I—I can already feel Tenn scolding me…” He trailed off. “Anyway, I’m going to bed now. I apologise again for keeping you awake! I’ll make it up to you. I—have a good night!” Before you could reply, Ryuunosuke sprinted over to his door and turned the keys with a dexterity you didn’t think he was capable of in this drunk state. Your heart beat as fast as if you had just run a marathon. When he complimented you, your entire body began to feel warm, hot even, as if on fire—but not in an uncomfortable way. It had been a while since you last felt this way. Smiling, you made your way back into your flat and over to the kitchen counter. The conversation must have gone by much quicker than it felt—your abandoned tea was still warm enough to drink. With a fluffy feeling that matched the bunnies on your pyjamas, you went to bed, dreaming of amber eyes and ruffled brown hair.

#IDOLiSH7 #Tsunashi Ryuunosuke #Tsunashi Ryuunosuke x Reader #My writing #look you can't tell me anyone who meets Ryuu manages not to fall in love at first sight

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years

Text

“triad”

Chapter 15: the end of summer

Finally getting into the meat of the manga spade arc! Enjoy!

AO3 link

Days grew shorter. Shadows grew longer. So long that they seeped over the border and into the once-peaceful Clover Kingdom.

Many didn’t know it as they went about their lives, farming and working and sweating like usual. Only a few actually understood the threat that was growing, the threat they desperately wanted to overcome. But to overcome, you must be prepared to fight for your life.

Months and months of work were finally coming to a close. But would the Clover Kingdom be ready to face the spade Kingdom?

But also… would the Spade Kingdom be prepared as well?

“You’ve been sitting in that seat for months. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured anything out, yet?”

The man with shaggy white hair and large, reflective glasses nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of the deep, rough voice behind him. He turned around, now backlit by the magical screen his eyes had been locked on. It played a clip over and over again, ripped directly from a Clover Kingdom broadcast that they managed to intercept.

“That’s not true, Lord Dante. I’ve moved.”

Dante let out a chuckle, his serious expression dissolving. The man was in a good mood, and why wouldn’t he be? The end of these agonizing six months was near, and it was almost time to make their move. Finally, he would be able to enact his plan, and get to fight some interesting people along the way.

“Not that I can tell. Every time I come in here, you’re staring at that screen, Morris. In the exact same position, too, I might add.”

Morris felt a little irked by the comment, but he couldn’t do much about it. Dante and his siblings, the Dark Triad, were the reason why he was allowed to flee the Diamond Kingdom after Mars took over. Well, that wasn’t going to end well for Mars, as Zenon himself dispatched most of the enemy country’s troops. It was a small comfort, but overall the situation wasn’t too bad. Morris got to do what he did best, and be part of something catastrophic.

“Whatever. And no, I haven’t.” Morris sighed before turning back to look at the screen. The clip looped again, and again, and again. Just two or three seconds of footage, a critical moment that defied all explanation. “All I know is that this new power is something she calls true time magic.”

“Ah, groundbreaking.” Dante narrowed his eyes at the display. “Is this something she inherited?”

“No… I don’t think so.” Morris weaved his fingers together as he watched, barely aware that Dante was there still. “It’s true- because of her Dyad magic, she was able to steal part of Julius Novachrono’s magic. But Simulcian Dyads don’t just borrow their partner’s magic. Over time, they make it their own. So, effectively, she’s come up with new time spells that even Novachrono did not.”

Dante nodded slowly, faint recognition registering in the back of his mind. Well, not his mind.

The power to steal part of someone’s soul… their essence, their magic… and make it their own. How terrifyingly powerful.

“You sure seem to know a lot about it, Morris.”

“I told you before- The Diamond Kingdom harbored a group of Simulcian refugees for over a century,” Morris reminded him. “They offered to share their Dyad with our army in exchange for a safe, private place to stay.” Morris let out a wistful sigh. “I was the only one who visited… I even talked to their leader, Mikal. He was interesting… He showed me the research he was doing on his own family. Quite diabolical.” Morris’s smile dropped. “But then all of them disappeared… I thought I’d never find out what happened, but then, 6 years later, the Clover Kingdom attacked us with a Dyad of their own. One containing the Wizard King of all people.”

And now, the other half of that Dyad was Wizard King as well, the Wizard King they would have to face in only a matter of days.

Or maybe not.

The woman’s movements were instantaneous. There was no delay, no movement, between where she began and where she ended. But in that moment, all 8 of her opponents were down.

“She hasn’t made any public appearances lately. She’s been keeping to herself… it’s too bad, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fight her.” Dante finally spoke, his own little brain trying to figure out her trick. “According to the intel our spies provided, she should be over 6 months pregnant.”

“Or dead.” Morris shook his head. “Mikal explained it to me- When you form a Dyad, you cease to exist as an individual. You share the essence of your soul, your EGO, with the other. When Julius Novachrono died, he broke her Ego. So…”

Dante’s eyes widened a little when he realized what Morris was about to say. Morris just let his voice trail off, because there was no reason to voice the inevitable.

She is wilting away. LIke a flower who has forgotten what the sun looked like.

“It’s a shame. She was getting so powerful.” Dante shook his head sadly, but couldn’t help but smile. “I really hoped I would get to fight her one day.”

Morris let out a chuckle. Dante, your mind dwells on the wrong things, sometimes. I don’t think you would want to fight her. “I suppose. I would have liked to research her powers… there might be something in there I can use. For now, I guess I can dream…”

Both men watched her form on the screen, again and again.

“And besides…”

“She’s very cute-” “She’s very cute-”

Dante and Morris both cut each other off. For the first time, Morris actually turned in his chair to face his superior, fear starting to register on his face. It wasn’t much, just a tinge, but it was more than Morris had felt in his entire life.

“Morris…” Dante’s smile was gone. “What did you just say?”

Morris gulped, feeling the hair on his arms standing on end. “...nothing. Nothing at all.”

After a few moments saturated with tension, Dante finally relaxed his frown into a grin. “That’s what I thought you said.” He reached down and slapped Morris on the shoulder, a little harder than could be considered friendly. Morris stiffened, watching as Dante turned to leave, his cloak flaring out dramatically.

“If I do get to fight the Wizard King… I will conquer her. Just like I conquer everything else.”

Dante’s eyes glimmered at the thought, the hope he held close to his heart.

“Meeting you… is going to be so much fun.~”

(a couple months later)

“All rise for her majesty, the 29th Wizard King!”

This is the same room where I was married, and where I was later crowned. But now, I feel none of the nervousness of that previous visit. I’ve walked this aisle many times, my head held high, a crown glimmering upon my hair, and my robe flowing behind me.

I am the Wizard King, and this is my court. This is where I sit on my throne.

These past few months have been dense with work, more work than I’ve ever had in my time as advisor. After accepting my fate, I threw myself into this position more deeply than ever before. There’s a whole kingdom of people who need help, and another whole kingdom about to attack us. But little by little, I chipped through the work with the help of Marx and Adeline, slowly but surely repairing the damage and making sure those who were hurt were well cared for. But even now, there are problems, which is why I keep my doors open to whoever needs help.

“Y-Your majesty…”

A pair of men stand before me, their hands clasped together to keep them from shaking. They look like peasants, and there’s fear glistening in their eyes.

“We’re very sorry to bother you… our town was lucky enough to receive aid, after all. But-” He gulped, his eyes flickering up to my neutral face, leaned up against my propped up hand. “The magic knights in our town are wreaking havoc… they steal our food, slack off… and they even harass the women. If it isn’t too much-”

“Remove them?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter on my throne. “Tell me, what squad did I send to your town?”

“T-The Purple Orcas, ma’am-”

“Oh, I see.” Of course it’s them… I’m sure Kaiser would have a fit if he knew, I think, letting out a tired sigh. “Well, in that case, your wish is granted. I’ll send for the immediate removal of troops. Should I replace them?”

The two men looked at each other excitedly before turning back to me. “No! We’ve mostly recovered, thanks to you, those knights were just taking advantage of our recovery.” They both bowed in unison, grins still shining on their faces. “Thank you, your majesty!”

I smile down at them, motioning for them to rise again. “No problem! It’s my job to ensure that every citizen in this city is safe.”

As they leave, the crowd murmurs angrily. For whatever reason, many people usually come to watch as I listen to those who have requests, probably just to gossip and jeer at me. I do my best to be a good King, but there’s always going to be people who hold my status against me. They still see me as nothing more than a consort, someone who used Julius for power. It couldn’t be further from the truth; there’s nothing I want more than for Julius to be sitting on this throne today.

“I can’t believe it! Who gave you the power to redistribute my funds in the treasury?”

Now a wealthy, noble merchant stands before me, with much less benevolence than the peasants. His face is red with anger, like a tomato about to split open with juice. “I put those riches in there to gain interest! I was supposed to get richer, not poorer!”

“Oh, you did get interest, though,” I tell him casually, smiling a bit to myself at how angry he is. “That’s all I took out of your funds, too. You know that the Kingdom has been suffering lately-”

“THE KINGDOM? My ass!” he cuts me off. “Sure, some towns out in the boonies got destroyed, but do I have to pay for their problems?!” He points at me accusingly. “That’s not right! You don’t have the right to do that!”

“Look-” I shake my head, letting out an exasperated sigh. The night sky outside signifies how long I’ve been here, hours at this point. I’m starting to get tired. “The interest I took was enough to feed a town of starving people. You’ll make it back soon. Can’t you be happy that you’re helping the greater good-”

“HELP?! Why do I have to suffer for them!” he yells again. “My life was perfect! Why should I care if-”

“SILENCE.” In an instant, I’m on my feet. The air around me suddenly crackles with mana, and I hold up my hand to let an orb of dangerously bright blue light gather there. The entire room vibrates, and the crowd cowers behind the man who dared to speak to me like that.

“Cut me off again… and I will cut you in half.”

I clench my fist, and the orb intensifies. The noble’s eyes are wide, and the strength in his knees finally gives out. He collapses, his head ducking down as his body wracks with tremors. “I-I’m sorry- please- have mercy-”

“Mercy?” I smile again, but my eyes are as empty as ever. “You would show no mercy to those below you either, right? So why should I care if you live or die?”

He doesn’t answer, just squeezes his eyes shut and accepts his fate.

Satisfied, I release my power, and the light disappears. With a sigh, I sit back down on the throne, crossing my legs once seated. I feel heavier than normal, and for good reason; My belly is swollen, life kicking around inside. It’s only been about 7 months, but with a clever magical strategy, I managed to accelerate the pregnancy by two months. So, any day now, I will be meeting Julius’s child.

“Don’t bother me with this nonsense again. Just be grateful that I’ve given your life more meaning than you’re capable of yourself. Goodbye.”

Finally, everyone leaves, still muttering about the display of power I decided to throw out.

“You really shouldn’t be so rash, they’re just going to hate you more.”

Adeline lectures me, as usual, as she holds my hand to help me up the stairs to our room. We moved into one of the empty rooms together. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel like it was right to keep sleeping in the old bed. I still brought the robe with me, and it sits on a chair in the corner by the window. “One of these days, it’s going to come back to bite you.”

“Eh.” I shrug, not denying it. As things stand now, they’ll have to target another Wizard King soon. “I want to get through this Spade nonsense first before worrying about that.”

“Understandable.” Adeline leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, you need to sleep.”

The two of us cuddle up under the blankets. I close my eyes and inhale her scent, a smile traced onto my lips. When we’re here, all alone, I almost forget about the world outside, and the fate within me.

However, the peace is short lived.

A scream rips through the early morning, jolting me from my trance. I sit up in a panic to see Adeline already awake, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. A cold sweat coats her skin, and she’s shaking violently. “Adeline?! What’s wrong- hey-” I get cut off as she throws herself into my arms, bawling into my chest. I freeze up, not able to do much but stroke her hair awkwardly. I’m not the best at comforting people, since Julius was the one in charge of that back in the day. But slowly, Adeline starts to calm down, her sobs quieting. “So… a nightmare?”

“No… worse…” Adeline finally sits up, her eyes dilated with fear. “I… I got a flash.”

A flash….

Adeline’s Celestial Clairvoyance magic allows her to see flashes of the future, and sometimes those flashes come at random times, like when she’s asleep. I gulp nervously, my fingertips going cold. Usually these flashes help me in some way, but from the look in her eyes, I know this one is serious.

“What did you see?”

Adeline squeezes her eyes shut.

“Bones… bloodstained bones. Fire. Rotting flesh. And a tree… a huge tree being uprooted as an even larger one grows beneath it. And-” Her eyes pop open.

“A butterfly…”

My blood runs cold.

“Or maybe it was a moth…”

I take Adeline’s hand to distract her (and myself). “I see… I think I know what it means. Something we already knew.” I give her a strained smile. “War is coming… and soon.”

Slowly, Adeline nods. Somehow, I’ve managed to calm her down. “Right… right.” She glances over at the clock. “It’s early, but I’m going to get up. I don’t think I can sleep any longer.”

“Alright. I’ll do the same.”

Only fifteen minutes later, Marx comes bursting into the office, out of breath. “I have news from the Heart Kingdom- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!”

Adeline and I almost jump out of our skins at the sound of the voice. We freeze in our position. Of course he had to come running in as we decided to have a little make-out session, with me sitting up on the desk to reach her lips. My face heats up, and Adeline opens and closes her mouth trying to find an excuse. “Um… I was… feeling the baby?”

Marx lets out a rattling sigh before closing the door behind him. “Some things never change… anyway, the news from the Heart Kingdom-” He straightens up, looking worried. “They were attacked by a mobile fortress from the Spade Kingdom early this morning.”

“WHAT?!” My eyes widen and I hop off the desk immediately. “This morning!? What happened? Are we at war?”

“Not quite…” Marx sucks in a breath. “Our knights over there were able to stop them and even take over a border town. The situation deescalated so now we’re just waiting for the Spade Kingdom to retaliate.”

“Oh… oH!” I let myself relax. “That’s great news… hopefully this promises good things to come.”

“I hope so…” Marx looks at Adeline. “Come on, I have some work for you to do downstairs.”

“Awww, ok.” Adeline pouts before leaning in to give me a kiss. “See you later!”

“Yeah, of course!” I wave goodbye before sitting back down in my chair and pulling more paperwork towards me. The door shuts, and I am alone.

So… it’s going to end soon, right?

I reach down and rest my hand upon my belly.

I need to give birth to you before the war begins… so I can fight, and…

I close my eyes. Mana starts to course into my belly, time spinning around the baby gently. This is how I’ve sped up my pregnancy, bit by bit, not noticeable by anyone but myself. Any day now, I would be able to give birth.

And then, I smell blood. My eyes pop back open. I take my hand away from my stomach and reach up to wipe under my nose. Sure enough, a red streak comes with it.

Oh, fuck-

It hits me with as little warning as usual, the tidal wave of pain ripping through my head and through my soul. WIth a strangled cry, I spasm in my seat, my head thrown back against the head of the chair. The agony intensifies, this episode growing worse and worse with every moment. It happens infrequently, but over these last months it visits as a reminder of the fate ahead of me.

NO…. not yet…

I can feel what’s left of my soul desperately tugging itself away, desperately trying to die.

Just a little longer…

I clench my fist as lights pop at the corners of my vision.

I need… I need to die on the battlefield.

The lights get brighter, blinding me. A moth flutters towards me.

Not… YET…

------------

“Oh god… oh god please wake up…”

Adeline’s voice eventually coaxes me back to life. I blink my eyes open to see her, Marx, and Owen standing above me with scared looks on their faces. “W-What happened?”

“You had another spasm episode,” Adeline tells me softly. “How do you feel?”

A spike of panic shoots through me. “T-The baby-”

“It’s fine, perfectly healthy,” Owen assures me. “I’m more worried about you.”

I gulp nervously at the way they’re looking at me. I can tell that they know I’m hiding something.

“Sorry… I can’t control the seizures. I’ll try and warn you next time I feel it coming on.”

Owen sighs. “Right… well, I need to run and check up on the others. I’m sure they’re also traumatized…”

“Traumatized?” I repeat. Owen stiffens up, and so do Marx and Adeline. The tension has grown, but for what reason? “Wait, what’s going on? How long was I out?”

“Hours…” Adeline whispers. Owen exchanges a glance with Marx before leaving. “It’s evening now… and… well…”

“There’s been a development.” Marx finishes her sentence as she trails off. “Listen… while you were out… there were more attacks. One in the Heart Kingdom and two here.”

My eyes widen, but he doesn’t give me a chance to talk.

“There are three devil hosts in the Spade Kingdom… they call themselves the Dark Triad. And…”

Adeline hangs her head, unable to look me in the eye.

“They kidnapped Lolopechika… and…”

There’s static in my ears. His next words are fuzzy.

“They took Yami and William, too.”

A huge tree is uprooted as an even larger one grows beneath it.

A moth flits through its branches.

Fate has arrived.

Uh oh.... next time, chapter 16: the shadows. Yami and William are gone, and the apocalypse has arrived. What is one supposed to do when the inevitable stands ahead of you? We'll see what our poor Wizard King decides to do...

#black clover #fic #triad #oc: lisa #bc oc

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“K AGAIN”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"He's K!"

"K is here!"

"The genius of fried rice has appeared, "K"!”

When the man appeared at the "Tatsuya Honpo" store, more than 100 floor employees were yelling at once.

"K! Thanks for visiting us!"

"Please come here!"

The manager and the two assistants rushed on a small run, inviting the man, K, and his partner to the VIP room. The room, which is used for small group meetings, is a complete space with no spaces in terms of interior decoration, furniture, air conditioning and sound effects.

The manager told K, he was sitting in a relaxed environment.

"The owner will come soon. We will examine the ingredients from now on, so if you have a rough idea of what you would like to eat today…”

K's answer to the question was just silence and an optimistic smile.

"That was rude... It was a stupid question."

The manager bowed deeply and left with his subordinates.

The partner who had been looking around the room until then, hit K with his elbow.

"Hey, alright Kamamoto... I don't have much money."

++++++++++

What is this? Yata thought. he just wanted to eat fried rice.

He went out with Kamamoto and on the way home made him hungry, so he said "Let's go eat something."

"Ok, Yata-san, are we going to eat fried rice then?"

Somehow they suddenly came right here.

"Why fried rice? That kind of thing is usually, "Oh, that's how you feel when you're hungry, you feel Chinese," or something like that.”

"It's Ikisu or fried rice."

"Not really. Well, if they tell you fried rice, fried rice, you start to feel like this.”

"Hehe, I had to come. Actually, I know a good store around here.”

"Oh, what? Suddenly the difficulty increased. Not alone…"

When he arrived after Kamamoto while chatting with his usual story, it was a bit annoying.

Separately, they said, "Five hundred yen for three shobo sharks at a chain of fried rice stores," or "A store where a stubborn grandfather and grandmother are together, and the Meshi is delicious but the chair vibrates and you are not calm." So it was nice. That is to say…

What is this store. It looks like a skyscraper about 10 stories high that belongs to an entire Chinese restaurant. There is a large sign on the side of the building that is about the size of a large monitor in front of the station, and it looks strange. The ground floor is another great room, like a party place or a hotel restaurant.

This room he passes through was another. It is much quieter than the hallway...

The tabletop is so thick that it cannot be grasped by hand. It is a century old tree that has been cut and polished.

The slippery jar placed close to the wall makes a big difference. It is almost like a child.

There is an ultra-realistic carving of a dragon on the ceiling, and the ball in his hand is really real crystal. If a series of melons falls and hits his head, he may die.

In general, their sense of distance is dangerous. Even if he eats it like that, it doesn't taste good. Most of the time, the menus in these stores come out in Chinese, so he will have to eat something that he really cannot taste or taste. And the price is "market price".

No, this is not right.

"Kamamoto, let's go out."

When Yata tried to leave his seat ...

"Hahaha!"

A chef-like man came in opening the double doors, pointed to Kamamoto.

"You finally showed up... I've been waiting for you, K!"

When he finally appeared, he walked over to Yata next to Kamamoto and held out his right hand.

"Are you K's friend? Welcome from my teacher. I am Otori, the owner of this Tatsuya Honpo.”

The powerful hand of a craftsman firmly grasps Yata's hand. Not only the grip, but also the pressure as a human being.

"Hey, Kamamoto, how long have you known him?"

"Well, we've been talking for some time..."

Kamamoto scratched his head.

"Long ago, the kitchen game where I was a judge, triggered your store to lose."

Note: Chapter 3 of the manga "Stray Dog Story".

"What are you saying you did?"

"Huh... K, don't worry. My defeat is my own defeat due to my pride. I prefer to thank you for being judged on your sense of taste and being aware of my immaturity. But…"

Otori, who felt bad, looked back at him and pointed at Kamamoto again.

“I'm not what I was at the time! Let's try it now! My ultimate dish, the "Galaxy Cradle", has evolved even further!”

Then suddenly, Kamamoto sighed deeply.

"Still... you seem to be sticking to your own wins and losses."

"What?"

"I just want to eat delicious fried rice... the best fried rice. The "supreme dish" in this store is not your big "Galaxy Cradle".”

"Ah...!"

Kamamoto smiled invincibly when he turned his head.

"I must get it out... the "fried rice that "uncle" doesn't spread".”

++++++++++

"Wow, what is this? The moment you eat it, you feel like you are in a universe!”

Yata yelled, as grains of fried rice flew from his mouth.

The place is inside the roof garden of the Tatsuya Building, and a small Chinese restaurant, which was relocated there.

“I saw it, it's just normal fried rice, I wonder why, I wonder if my arms are different. Hey, Kamamoto..."

"Hehehe... Otori, the owner of the Tatsuya Honpo, which was once called the" Chinese Supernova", but the rumor that there is another genius of fried rice, hangs in your head and is driving you crazy."

Again, Kamamoto asked for fried rice, and Otori clenched his fist.

"It's a shame, but I have to admit it. I am still an apprentice. It's that guy who really needs to be honored.”

"They will come upon you. Even if you praise me, nothing will come out.”

That's when the man with a stubble and an apron seems to laugh. He has a towel around his head. Although he appears to be in his forties, he has juvenile infantilism somewhere, or vice versa, he seems to be using a very old air.

"No, it's serious. Really…"

Yata leaned towards the man named "Ojiki".

"Ojiki, are you always here? I will come to eat again. I like this type of store. Haha, the chair is ringing.”

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

An old man, who was happy looking at the meals of two guests next to the "Ojiki", said to him.

“This store is just a monument. I'm not in business anymore.”

"Eh... it's true. So, this fried rice...?”

"That's why I don't like it, Yata-san." Kamamoto said.

"Just come to dinner." The old man laughed.

Otori bowed deeply.

"Sorry, teacher. I couldn't refuse because I came to see "Ojiki"…”

"Well, is this your lunch? Damn, I ate it!”

“Well, if you eat that much, this Ossan will be happy. Do you want me to do it again?”

"Oh, "Ojiki", wait!"

Yata stopped the "Ojiki" trying to stand up.

"I will because I have eaten it. Well, I'm not a professional like you, but I still help in the kitchen of a store I know.”

"Okay. Then, you will come with me.”

The "Ojiki" sat down,

"Huh?"

"Ah..."

Otori and Kamamoto said quietly.

And…

Otori was watching Yata's kitchen knife, standing in the kitchen behind the counter. In an immovable posture with his arms crossed, but his eyes capture all of Yata's actions, and his thoughts never stop for a moment.

(Hmm, if you think about how skillful he is... "I'm used to newbies.")

(Is the oil, a salad oil? Does it seem like the pan is sweet...?)

(Hmmm, do he put the rice first?)

(Why do you open the refrigerator after starting to make a difference?)

(What?! Is that... pineapple?)

"Heaven is complete!"

The dish was a big departure from Otori's definition of "fried rice."

"Is this fried rice...? It's a little sweet and salty... too innovative...”

"Is it okay to give something so unfamiliar to a respected teacher or “Ojiki”?" Otori was interrupted.

"Ah, this is simple. When I was playing at home on my day off, that's what my mother gives me.”

"Hehe, my mom's taste."

"I feel like I'm not ready, it's not good."

The "Ojiki" and "Teacher" started eating the mysterious fried rice, which cannot be said to be fried rice, in a simple and unexpectedly funny way.

"Hmm, really..."

The sight evoked a certain emotion in Otori's chest.

“Cooking is not only done with ingredients and heat. Memories, feelings ... the hearts of the people who eat it. I could have lost something important again…”

"It is the path I have been through."

Otori looked up at Kamamoto's voice.

"K... You know, today somehow, you taught me that..."

"Hehe... come on, I wonder..."

And…

To thank the Tatsuya Honpo people for the food, the two guests returned. Looking back as they step outside, Otori turned gloomy.

(K, the great genius of fried rice... is a sympathetic man.)

++++++++++

“No, it was delicious, fried rice. Also, I was allowed to eat it for free, thank you very much.”

Yata said, hitting his bulging flank.

However, Kamamoto, I gave a tip to a professional chef, and he understood. I thought it was a small dining room to eat one by one, I was a little surprised.”

Then Kamamoto replied with a serious look.

"Well, it's relatively textured, that kind of thing."

"Hey, what is that?"

"That owner, Otori, is agitated when I say something like that, and I am surprised that he let me eat for free."

"Oh, I’m sorry."

Yata was afraid.

"Don't cheat on a serious person. I can't forgive that!"

"But was it good? Fried rice."

"Well, it was fine, but does that "Ojiki" come only occasionally?”

“Yes, this is the first time I have met him. He is a "ghost cook".”

"I see. Please thank him again… I hope to see him again.”

When Yata looked up at the sky while taking a nap of the taste of fried rice,

"Oh, I'm sorry."

A man walking behind ran into Yata, who had slowed his pace. A long-haired man wearing a Catholic priest's foot collar.

"Ah, priest."

"No, it was nothing."

The "priest" waved his hand slightly, then left quickly. The leek sticking out of the shopping bag in the other hand looked like a mess.

"That…"

Yata looked at Kamamoto again.

"Hey, Kamamoto. The person just before… isn't it similar to "Ojiki"?”

"Hahaha, no way. He's just a little bit similar in profile.”

Kamamoto laughed.

“The fried rice feel of this fried rice genius can never be overlooked by a good fried rice cook.”

"No, I was wondering, who was that "fried rice genius"?"

"Fufufu, it would take longer to talk about that..."

As the conversation between the two drifted toward the "Great Genius," that guy's back dispersed into the crowd.

#K #k project #k stories #k fan clan #yata misaki #kamamoto rikyo #iwafune tenkei #homra #jungle

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rakuraiwielder · 5 years

Text

at the eleventh hour (don’t you dare knock)

Even through her hazy deliriousness Shinobu is sure of one thing. She cannot let Tomioka Giyuu die. // When Shinobu wakes in the aftermath of a mission, she knows she is dying.

Giyushino. Where both are fatally injured in different ways.

A Kimetsu no Yaiba Fic / Allusions to manga spoilers.

Also on A03

Foreword:

i am that one friend at parties that get the prompt ‘nsfw’ and immediately think of gore instead of spice- in that vein, this could be considered a very late submission for giyushino week’s bonus prompt

Shinobu wakes to a sharp flare of pain and the light of an approaching dawn. Her head aches all over, buzzes with a numbness she was only vaguely aware of. The feeling only grows heavier as she attempts to sit up, hazy eyes blinking sluggishly as she struggles to gather her bearings. Strange, she thinks as she sways against the rapid beats of her pulse, that it should hurt to breathe.

They had been fighting a demon; her partner and her, her partner-

Shinobu snaps her head up and flinches, feels bits and pieces of her memory return in the form of painful stabs to her abdomen. Giyuu had been with her; the two of them fighting off a demon classified to be on par with that of a Lower Moon. It should have been easy, it should have been easy and yet...

They had been taken wholly by surprise; the mission had gone awry, and she had remembered nothing else but the shattering of bones amid a demon’s dying scream as she fell, fell and fell and-

The choked noise that leaves her mouth spittles into a croak; Shinobu feels her whole body threaten to lurch, trembling as she tries to focus her sight on battered flooring and broken rice paper doors. They had cornered the monster in an old deteriorating shack both to mitigate the damage and draw as little attention as possible from the surrounding village. It had been a smart move then, but she was beginning to think it had backfired now. No one would find them here if they were rendered incapitiated. No one would come, and for the first time she feels trepidation as the pain that courses through her flares sharply again.

From behind, a hand curls over the cloth of her haori, tugs her back weakly, and Shinobu feels herself fall against something warm and decidingly not flat. A hiss of pain catches in her throat even as her head lolls back, resting against the crook of...of something. Slowly she becomes aware of the low rise and fall behind her back, the pair of legs that encompasses her sprawled body, the hand that she now sees clenching the bloodied ends of her sleeve.

“Tomioka san..?”

Ah, she was just wondering where he had gone.

Relief rises in wisps through the receding numbness, bringing with it the rising awareness of more pain, of the slow stirring in her gut that alerted her to something being very wrong. Shinobu tilts her head, squints at the sliver of faint light that streamed through the quiet trees and splintered wood. She wonders just when had she closed her eyes. Sluggishly she turns around a little more, feels her stomach pang and throb as she tries to find the presence behind her. Every motion brings her pain; another slow shift, digging the backs of her ankles into the grainy wooden floor, poised to lift-

Pain, white hot, blinds her vision, forces her mouth open into a rattling cry. The hand on her haori spasms, and Shinobu feels pressure on her other side, foreign fingers curling gingerly over the disheveled redness of her soiled clothi-

Shinobu screams, flinches away from his touch and curls in on herself as her pulse skyrockets and her ears ring. It hurts. For a few moments thereafter she cannot hear anything but the rapid pounding of her own heart. The scale of its intensity scares her; makes her mind race for answers through the numbness. It must be more than just a few broken ribs. Appendicitis? She thinks back to that one moment of snapping bone as her body collided with the ceiling; the taste of bile and blood tingeing her tongue as the demon had lunge for her. It wouldn’t be unlikely for the broken bone to puncture an organ from the impact then or after she fell. If she even fell. There were no bruises and cuts to show for it.

She cannot remember now, but the thought of having a ruptured stomach or bleeding innards here scares her enough to break through the haze. Clarity returns to her in between sets of delirious pain. Her head swims, but still she struggles, tries to turn around again. The hands that held her had retracted, but as she moves they return to her sides, fisting into the ends of her haori and forcing her still.

“Don’t.” A raspy whisper from behind her. Giyuu breathes, heavy and ragged, and Shinobu feels the last of her reassurance burn into ashes.

“Don’t.” He says again, before she can open her mouth, clutches the fabric of her clothes tighter as he heaves. “You are hurt, Kochou.”

Why hadn’t she realised it earlier? The erratic rise and fall of his chest. The signs of struggle in every clench of his hands. Most of all, why he remained unmoving in a place like this after the slaying of a demon. The Water Pillar may be a man of few words, but even she knew him enough to know he would never want to linger on the deathbed of death and decay.

“So are you. What’s... wrong?” It hurts to speak, and she has to focus on each word as she slurs them out. Shakily she lifts one hand, raises and drops it on his leg. The movement makes him tense; he gasps, soft and unnoticed as she pokes weakly at his knee. “Come now, let me turn around.”

Shinobu does not wait for him to protest, shifting her buzzing legs to the right as she attempts once again to search his face. She makes it halfway before the pain starts to take over, a warning flare that brings tears to her eyes. This time the wave leaves her floundering, coils tight over her heart as she sways. Giyuu reaches for her shoulders before she can collapse again, fingers curling against the expanse of her arm and guiding her closer as she slumps tiredly, this time sideways against his firm chest. He wavers for a moment before touching her, and Shinobu knows, even through the ache, that he did not want her to cry out again.

It was so like him to blame himself for it, though it was more her fault than his. She would scold him for it, but as it were she could barely focus on the ground before her. Slowly she tilts her head again, blinking through the haze to squint up. Giyuu can barely meet her gaze, his ragged breaths borderlining wheezing as he pants in uneven tempo.

One look at him and she knows he has been poisoned.

No wonder they had been unable to leave.

You look awful, she wants to say. But all that leaves her mouth is another pained whimper. The poison had spread, turned his skin pale and clammy, highlighted the bulging veins that circled his temple and eye as he attempted to maintain total concentration breathing. Shinobu wonders when the demon even had the chance to inflict the deadly deed. But then she remembers the dust-like spores that had encircled the shack’s perimeter before, and thinks she understands.

For now, she must start on administering the antidote. As far as she could see, he had not coughed up any blood. Perhaps the poison worked in different ways, and he wasn’t in immediate danger. She can only hope so. Her hands shake as she turns back into herself, struggles to get them past the layer of bloodied haori into her inner pockets to reach the pouch that held her syringes. A careless brush against her chest makes her see stars; Shinobu cannot tell if she made a noise, but when she comes back down the hand over her shoulder was quivering, Giyuu’s other fist clenched tightly over butterfly winged cloth.

He had pushed away from the wall, head lowered and face buried into her hair; she can feel him shudder with every heavy exhale. It makes her heart clench, though it could have been just from the pain. He was not himself.

“Tomioka...san..?”

“I’m.. I’m alright…” Another deep breath before his fingers loosen their hold, dropping off her shoulder. “It’s... not what you think.”

He was turning incoherent, and Shinobu tries to shake the anxious drumming of her pulse as she reaches for her haori and tries again. The poison’s effect was escalating; it could have been one that takes away lucidity, has the victim experience confusion and hallucinations. It was not nearly enough to work on, but Shinobu notes it down anyway, finally grasping the pouch out from her uniform and fumbling it open with numb fingers. She needs him to keep talking, if only to reassure her, if only to let her have something to anchor herself onto besides the unbearable pain.

“Our...crows?”

“Gone at first light. The Kakushi will be here soon.”

But how soon is soon enough? It was a traitorous thought that she quickly stamps away. She can cure him before anything happens. She must. She cannot consider herself the Insect Pillar if she fails doing this one simple thing that was under her expertise otherwise.

The medical kit drops from her shaky hands, hits the wooden floor with a metal clang that rings painfully in her ears. Giyuu picks it up before she even notices, presses it back against her trembling fingers. It takes her too long to grip it properly so he can let go, longer still to push her head off his chest so she can face him. Giyuu makes a soft noise but pulls back. His eyes were glazed, fixed unseeingly at a point on her mouth. She wonders if she really was slurring her words that badly.

“Tomioka san (c’mon, work with me here), I need to-” Another wave of pain from her abdomen. She can barely curl her arms around it, fearing that touching the wound would only agitate it more. More bile rises up her throat. “I need to...check your symptoms if you want me to help you.”

“I-” The Water Pillar hesitates, unable to meet her stare as a slow flush of red crept over his ears, neck. Fever..?

Shinobu would interrogate him more, but then his fingers were on her cheeks, swiping at the water under her eye. His gaze was soft, softer than she expected, the pad of his thumb gentle and lingering as it presses into the corner of her lips. It barely lasted a couple of moments, but as soon as she thought to comprehend it he snatches his hand back, cheeks tinting pink. His mouth parts uncertainly, seemingly at a loss for words.

The ghost of his touch dissipates from her skin, fleeting like the forgotten words on the tip of her tongue. Later, she is sure it would confound her more than anything if she remembers.

“I recognise the effects.” He says almost shamefully, breathing strained.

Shinobu nods, blinks slowly as her head swirls and she struggles to keep her balance.

“...It’s acting like an aphrodisiac.”

Shinobu feels her brain shock circuit.

Silence, as it takes her too long to put the pieces together, during which Giyuu turns increasingly more embarrassed. His palms clench into rigid fists as he rests them by his side, but he makes no other moves to touch her. She thinks she owed to be grateful, but somehow like this it feels harder to stop her back from collapsing in on itself. It was easier to keep steady, knowing that his hands were there if she ever needed the support.

...How strange her thoughts were. The internal bleeding must be getting to her.

“...Is that it..? No wonder you are acting strange.” She smiles then, a jittery, feeble thing as she untenses. The gravity of his words had hit their mark with its somber weight, but still Shinobu wants to laugh at the irony of the situation. As it were another flare from her abdomen shoots down her legs, and her smile trembles, fades into a thin line. “That makes things easier...”

“Can you..?”

“Who do you think you are talking to?” This time she does laugh amidst the pain, breathy and stuttered as she folds into herself. She regrets it immediately, feels something shudder and shift wrongly inside her. Something brushes the edge of her covered elbow, tugs hesitantly at the sleeve; it takes her mind off the pain a little, even as she struggles to ground herself, knuckles turning white as her grip on the medical kit becomes bruising. “I will have you better in no time.”

“You need help too.”

Only the look of sheer disbelief on his face and the need for propriety gives her pause when she teeters dangerously close to slumping against his chest again. She doesn’t want to agitate him, doesn’t want to agitate herself.

“...Yes.” She says, not liking the helpless look he was showing her. “But that can wait after you.” Help you to help me and all that. Another pained smile. “It won’t do you any good for anyone to see you like this, no..?”

She wants to tease, but another shock runs through his body, turns his eyes dark and hazy. Giyuu growls lowly as he returns, the restraint in his eyes razor thin as he stares fixated at a point she cannot see. Shinobu has no time to wonder before the cloth of his haori was dragging across hers, his arms encircling the space of her small frame. They stop, barely touching the side of her body as he looms before her.

“I’m sorry Kochou.” He slurs, eyes flickering with turmoil as he grapples to stay his hand. Shinobu feels it fist tighter into her haori anyway, his arm brushing the small of her back as she starts to sway. A whimper leaves her throat, unrestrained as the motion rocks the pain back into focus, and she sees Giyuu freeze for a bare moment even as he bends, pressing his face into the exposed skin of her nape.

His touch sends shockwaves through her body, makes her jerk and tense as he starts to nuzzle, warmth breath tickling the curve of her neck as he pants. A voice in the back of her mind begins to drone about unspoken boundaries and the splintering cracks of their established dynamic, digging into her heart the bolder he becomes. Shinobu pushes it all away, hitches with stuttered gasps at the reverent way he cups a palm over her waist.

She would wonder, if she wasn’t so aware of the precious time slipping through her fingers. Black spots darken her vision, but the weight of his chest was enough to ground her back as she fumbles at the metal case in her hands.

“I’m sorry.” He shudders again, mouth pressing the words into her neck. It makes her shiver and lean into his grasp.

“Oh Tomioka san… If nothing else, I would say that your self control was admirable to this point.”

“Don’t.” He makes a choked noise, and Shinobu feels him pull back a little. “Don't joke about that. I, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ahah...don’t be ridiculous. Like I would die to something like this.” She says, thinks it a lie as her vision starts to blur. How frustrating, that all the effort and preparation she put herself under was going to be rendered obsolete because of one off-the-trails mission. All these years of slaying and training for the one fight she was going to stake her life on cut short due to bad compatibility and a bleeding inside. She would grit her teeth if she wasn’t feeling so weak.

She cannot die here. She cannot die until she fulfills the vow she made to herself.

“You are trembling. Kochou?”

And yet...

Even through her hazy deliriousness Shinobu is sure of one thing. She cannot let Tomioka Giyuu die. She will administer the antidote on him if it is the last thing she does, on her honour and pride as the Insect Pillar. She won’t take him down with her. She won’t. It was all she could do now.

“-chou? Kochou, say something pl-”

“I’m here.” She coughs, runs shaking fingers over fastened needles and surgical knives when she finally pries the medical kit open.

She must have blacked out, because she barely remembers prepping the antidote together, her body on autopilot as she stumbles in and out of clarity. Aphrodisiac effects were not fatal as long as they could be flushed out of the system, though that was clearly out of the question now. What she had on hand would only work as a temporary neutraliser to restore awareness and basic motor functions to the victim for a short period of time. It would be enough, she knows even as she mixes the concoction and spills precious drops down her haori, if it was Giyuu with his boundless self control, Giyuu; who fought and trained and compensated for more than any other Pillar, it would be enough.

The uncapped syringe was in her hands when she feels her stomach churn unnaturally, bile sour and unpleasant as something inside her twists. Her body spasms in unbearable waves, and with widened eyes she pushes out of his grip, heaving a silent cry as she throws up mouthfuls of her own blood.

Shinobu heaves over and over again, dry heaves some more even when there was nothing left to throw up. She was scarcely aware of the man beside her, of the spreading pool of blood that blankets their feet, could only register the clotted fluid as black and sweet smelling. Ah, she thinks through her dizziness, hopes against hope that he does not recognise the scent of wisteria.

She didn’t think she could explain it to him anyhow, with the way they are now.

Soft cloth wipes at her lips when she slumps back, and she opens heavy eyes to see Giyuu brush the sleeve of his haori across her mouth. Apprehension dances in his eyes, fades in and out like a blurry canvas as she forces herself to focus on the antidote in her hands. Or maybe that was just her, and she was about to black out again. It only further stirs the restless anxiety that laid exhausted within her bones.

It takes longer than she would have liked to reach for him and position the syringe over his wrist. Giyuu has to hold her hand to steady her grip, help guide the needle into his skin. Black spots dance at the corner of her eyes again; Shinobu resists, wills herself to watch every last drop of antidote sink into his veins. With the rest of her dwindling strength she pulls the needle out cleanly, hears the clanking of metal and glass as the syringe drops to the ground.

The sound echoes oddly in her ears, as though faraway. She blinks, feels her eyes droop as she looks at her frozen fingers. Giyuu was speaking to her, but she cannot pick apart his words, can barely recognise the odd puffing sound she could hear come from her mouth as darkness took her back into its embrace.

Oh, since when had her skin become so ice cold?

The black out feels longer this time, but still she fights, claws her way out of the endless dream with pained gasps and tired wheezing. It cannot end like this, not until she was sure the Water Pillar could move. When she wakes again her head was resting in the crook of a familiar neck, her body swaying in the rhythmic motion of being held in a person’s arms. The pain in her abdomen was still present, ebbing and flowing with very breath she takes. She takes comfort in that. It means she was still alive.

Gentle warmth and birdsong caresses her face, strokes the deep sleep from her eyes as she opens them slowly. Small beams of morning light stream down the canopy of leaves, halos their wounds and disheveled clothing with every step down the forested path. Shinobu takes this all in, tilts her head up just in time to feel Giyuu stumble as he moves.

The sudden jerk sends a sharper pang through her chest, and with a hard swallow she coughs, curls deeper into the grip of his arms. She can hear him mumbling a mantra, words soft and trembling as he struggles with every step. Please, please please please.

“Don’t die on me, Kochou.”

He sounded almost afraid, the raw vulnerability making her heart clench again. She doesn’t like this new side of him, doesn’t want herself to be the cause of Giyuu’s uncertainty. Giyuu, who never wavers, who refuses to play along with her antics, who allowed her to see glimpses of the person he used to be. Giyuu, who was the one solid constant in her life she trusts more than anything. Her partner. Her head lolls to the side, wheezing softly from her lungs as she struggles to keep her consciousness. It hurts to speak, but she can do it. For him.

“Oh..?” She croaks, feels him tense at the sound of her voice, as though he had not expected her to answer. Had he been speaking to her all this time? “You...won’t let me..?”

“Never.” He bites out, uncharacteristically fierce and taking her by surprise.

She wants to laugh, but she lacks the energy to even try, the taste of blood bitter in her mouth. Instead she grounds her head into his shoulder and focuses on her breathing.

(Shinobu, her sister sings into her ears, the most important thing to total concentration breathing is to relax and brace-)

“Then, I will be in your care…”

(Kanae, she thinks as her vision darkens, I might be selfish for this. But I don’t want to see you just yet. Not today. Not until I have no more regrets.)

Shinobu closes her eyes, oblivious to the quiet panic of the man carrying her, and drifts off to his calls of her name.

Kochou Kochou Kochou Kochou pleas e

Shinobu..!

When Shinobu wakes, she knows she is not dead. The room she was in looked strikingly similar to those of the Butterfly estate, and there was an aching numbness all over her body, throbbing with an insistence that felt too much like material pain. She could barely feel because of it, hardly think of anything past the numbing emptiness in her head.

She has no idea what Heaven could be like, but she was sure it wouldn’t be like this; a direct continuation of her torment from before. But ah, she could be in Hell for all she knew, and that was a thought sobering enough to have her close her eyes and try to sink deeper into sleep.

A slight sensation envelopes her hand and breaks her from that notion.

Slowly her eyes flutter open, turn to stare at the face looking down on her. Gentle recognition pierces through the veil of comprehension, and Shinobu cracks a smile even as her limp muscles protest. Giyuu blinks back, looking worse for wear; dark circles hanging under his eyes of his too pale face, but the relief was palpable in his expression, and to her that was enough.

“You kept your promise.”

“I had to.” His face contorts and falls at that. “I almost-”

He cuts himself off then, narrows his eyes unseeingly at a corner of her bed. He was falling back into old habits, one that Shinobu doesn’t see the point of. It was misplaced; all of it. If anyone was to blame it should be her. Because she was the weak one.

But the haze was blowing the thought away before she could think it further, turning her musings to mush. A convenient distraction, she thinks in a daze, something she wishes she was quick witted enough to use on the Water Pillar now.

“Ah.. you haven’t been listening to the doctor’s orders, have you?” It takes more effort than she wants to get the words out. But Giyuu turns to look at her, so she can consider it a success. “You look tired.”

His answer comes in the form of his head hitting her pillow. The soft thump snaps her out of her reverie, and Shinobu stares at him with wide eyes as he moves closer until their heads touch. Giyuu turns his nose into her hair, sighs in exhaustion as he breathes her in, that for a moment she fears the poison’s effects had yet to leave his system.

The fear fades when he shifts some more, this time until their foreheads touch, until Shinobu can see clearly the silent desperation in the depths of his eyes and how they threaten to drown him in. Here, in the quiet lull separated by four walls and a single wooden door, he allows himself to loosen the facade he always wears, lets her catch glimpses of the person he used to be.

You are a very kind person aren’t you, Tomioka san? She should be flattered; that he would feel so for her, and yet all she can feel is a sense of painful emptiness. She supposes this is what near death situations does to you; make you connect with fellow survivors in a twisted, tragic kind of way. So lost in thought she was, that Shinobu does not notice the ache of her own heart through the medicinal numbness that locked her body still.

Giyuu makes a soft noise, and she closes her eyes, equally tired.

“Go to bed, Tomioka san.”

“I can rest here.” He says back, burrows his nose into the pillow as he exhales raggedly. “Shinobu.”

Another shock, milder than the last, as weariness starts to take its toll. Shinobu would stare, but as it were she could barely open her eyes.

“I thought I lost you. Shinobu.” He says her name again, on the cusp of an invisible boundary, but in that moment all she could think about was the kind of face he had made, and how she never wanted to be the subject of it ever again.

“I’m here, Giyuu san.” She whispers, knows full well they were both breaching something unsaid and untouched.

As her consciousness slips away she squeezes the sensation over her fingers she now knows as his hand, hopes to convey what she cannot find the strength to say. He grips her tighter, burying his head into her matted curls, and joins her in sleep.

A/N

i had a lot of fun making the title and synopsis as clickbaity as possible aHAh

i think Shinobu would be both flattered and anguished if she ever has the chance to see Giyuu grieve for her. it’s an unbearable feeling i don’t think she will be able to take, knowing how important she was to him

#giyushino #kochou shinobu #tomioka giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba #writing #Property of the Rakurai #honestly I have no idea what their current relationship in this fic is #its probably a weird more than friends less than lovers grey area rn

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nicka-nell · 4 years

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There is no such thing as a perfect world - Chapter 6: Just look, don’t touch. No, looking is also forbidden!

Words in this chapter: 2.380

Warning: Manga Spoiler

Chapter 5 - Your friend, my friend, our friend

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = your last name | (h/c) = haircolor | (e/c) = eyecolor

Several weeks pass in which (y/n) meets with Wakatoshi. No matter whether in the park, at her or at his home. They always had a lot of fun together. (y/n) maybe even more than him. Because after only a short time she had to admit that the silent Wakatoshi no longer went out of her thoughts and that she feels more than just friendship for him. Since she doesn't want to break their friendship, she keeps it to herself. "Please come all together," the trainer of the Schweiden Adler calls his team. "Again, you did a good job today. Keep that up. But what I wanted to tell you, we were invited to a gala this Friday. It's about presenting volleyball, but also us as a team. You shouldn't do interviews there or anything. You should just be present. I'll do the rest." he calls to his team. "Oh and ... if you want to take a nice companion with you, then you are welcome to do that. That was all for today. I'll see you tomorrow.” he adds. "A gala? What do you wear there?” Kageyama mumbles to himself. "I think a suit." Ushijima replies, who, like Kageyama, looks after his trainer. "Guys, it's going to be a great evening. Don't you think so too? ”, happily their teammate Romero puts his arms over their shoulders. Both look at him in amazement. "Are you taking someone with you? I think I will ask a friend if she would like to go with me.” he grins. "I will come alone. I can't think of anyone I could take with me.”, brooding, Kageyama looks over at Romero, who has already turned his gaze to Ushijima. "I just have to write a message." Ushijima nods to himself and walks over to his sports bag. He knew exactly who he would like to have with him.

Wakatoshi Ushijima [6:49 p.m.]: Good evening (y/n), are you accompanying me to a gala next Friday evening? (y/n) (l/n) [6:55 p.m.]: Hello Wakatoshi, what kind of gala? Wakatoshi Ushijima [6:56 p.m.]: I don't know. Our trainer told us today that we should go to a gala, and we should dress fancy. Does it matter what kind of gala it is? (y/n) (l/n) [6:59 p.m.]: No you're right. I would very much like to accompany you Wakatoshi. Wakatoshi Ushijima [7:01 p.m.]: Well. Then I will pick you up on Friday at 7:00 p.m. See you (y/n). (y/n) (l/n)[7:08 p.m.]: I'm glad. See you then Wakatoshi.

(y/n) thinks for a long time about what she wants to wear, but in the end her eyes keep hanging on the black, very tight sheath dress. It's quite short and strapless. The fabric is made of satin and it looks really great. She decides on this dress and does her hair. When she looks at the clock, it is almost seven p.m. Wakatoshi should be here soon. Quickly, she hurries downstairs and puts on her black high heels. "Woa! Where are you going tonight?" She hears her brother's astonished voice behind her in the hallway. "I told you I was going to a gala with Wakatoshi today. With his volleyball club.” (y/n) sighs. Why don't you put on one of your long dresses? If there are so many men, they'll be staring at you like crazy if you walk past them in such a tight dress.” With his arms crossed, he now stands in front of her. "Yato ... leave it. I'm old enough and I also have Wakatoshi by my side.” She answers him annoyed and pushes him into their living room. "Now just sit down and watch some series. I'll be back in a few hours." She goes back into the hallway and to the minute, the doorbell rings. A little nervous, she opens the door and looks at Wakatoshi. He's still looking at his watch, but he looks damn sexy in his suit. Since it is still warm outside, he has rolled up his sleeves a bit. His jacket is over his angled arm. From his watch, he looks up and at (y/n). His eyes widen, and he notices how his face gains warmth. Completely silent, he just looks at her. She looks so incredibly sexy in this dress. He'd love to rip it off of her and do other things with her than go to a stupid gala. Wait a minute ... What is he thinking? "The dress suits you very well.", is the only thing that comes out of him, according to his previous thoughts. "Thanks Wakatoshi. The suit looks great on you too.” She replies with a smile and pulls the door shut behind her. They start walking and the men on the street all greedily turn to (y/n). Wakatoshi also finds himself looking at her more often than intended. And he also realizes that he is annoyed by all the looks of the men who are directed at (y/n). It bothers him that they look at her as if she belongs to them. Without really thinking about it, he puts his free arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer to him.

A pleasant feeling spreads through her when he touches her, and she looks up at him somewhat embarrassed. "Wakatoshi? Is everything all right?” She asks him and puts a strand of hair behind her ear. "No. You are with me. The men here shouldn't stare at you like that.” His deep voice sounds almost annoyed. Giggling she leans against his chest, and they walk on with his hand on her waist. Arrived at the gala, Kageyama and Romero are already standing in front of the entrance together with a young dark-haired woman at Romero's side. Behind them are the other team members. Only Romero came with an escort. When they discover Ushijima and this young attractive woman, they all stop their conversation and stand before them with their mouths open. "Waka- toshi ... Who is this woman?" Asks a white-haired young man who introduces himself to (y/n) as Hoshiumi. "This is (y/n), my companion." he introduces her, pressing her even closer to him because the greedy looks of his team members annoy him. "Ushijima ... I didn't even know you had a girlfriend," Kageyama eyed her. "How did it come about that a pretty young woman like you came to Ushijima of all places?" Asks the tall man who introduced himself as Romero. "We're just-" she wants to correct him when Wakatoshi interrupts her. "That's enough now. Let's go get something to drink.” hisses Wakatoshi slightly annoyed and goes with (y/n) to the drinks. "Wakatoshi what's going on?" She asks concerned, because he's suddenly behaving so differently. "I don't want them to look at you with their hungry eyes. Even if they are my teammates.” With a deep voice, he presses a glass of white wine into her hand and also takes a glass. "So you don't like what I'm wearing?" She asks unsettled. Oh god, how could she think that? He likes it too well, and he too, would not be able to keep his eyes off her if his eyes weren't constantly busy keeping the men away from her. "I like it very much but ..." with a sip, he drinks the last bit from his wine glass and sets it down at the table next to him. Roughly, he grabs her hip and pulls her in front of him so that she almost rests on his chest. "But I would like to have this sight only for myself.", completely serious, he looks into her eyes, and she blushes. Her heart is beating like crazy, and she doesn't know what to say now. So she put down her wine glass and takes a deep breath before putting her hands around Wakatoshi. Startled, he tries to back out, but then returns her hug and closes his eyes. "Should we go to the others? The evening should be fun, right? “She tries to get through to him. "Okay. But you won't go anywhere without me.” He orders and goes back to his teammates with his hand at her waist. The evening passes very quickly and at three a.m. they are finally on their way back. (y/n)'s feet hurt, and she is tired too. She tries to hide it as much as possible, but after a few minutes on their way back she feels her body lifted up in the air and two strong arms hold her legs and shoulders. "Wakatoshi? What are you doing?” She asks him in surprise as he holds her in his arms. "You're slow in your shoes. And I want to get home before four.”, he answers her monotonously and accelerates his pace. Actually, he just didn't want to see her suffering face anymore. "My feet just hurt and I'm tired.” She now sighs annoyed at his rough statement. "I know. One more reason to take you home as soon as possible.” With his eyes still looking ahead, he moves on to her home. "Oh ... that was what he meant ..." She mumbles quietly to herself. He didn't mean it bad... When he arrives in front of the apartment, he puts her down as a few drops fall on his white shirt. A few more, and a few more. Now quite a few. Like a summer rain, it suddenly starts to rain heavily. "Come in quickly, Wakatoshi!" (y/n) calls to him and pulls him by the arm into her apartment. Giggling she looks at him and takes off her shoes. "Ah... much better,", cheerfully she sighs and looks over at Wakatoshi. "You can still stay until the rain stops. If you go out now, you will get sick and then you will not be able to play volleyball again for a while.”, she smiles lovingly at him. Part of him is happy that he can stay with her a little longer, but another part of him tells him that it is dangerous to stay with her. "Come to my room. I have to put on something else and then I can make us tea.” Her calm voice pulls him out of his thoughts and her little hand, which is now on his, gently pulls him in the direction of her room. Her bedroom is large and on the right wall is another door leading to her own bathroom. Thoughtful, she stands in front of her wardrobe and looks for a pajama and then disappears into the bathroom. First he stands petrified in her room, but then he sits down on her desk chair and looks around her room. "Wakatoshi? Can you help me for a moment?” Her voice sounds from the bathroom, and she opens the door. "I can't open the zipper at the back." With her fingers she tries to grab the zipper on her dress. But it doesn't make it. So he should open her dress now? He swallows before walking towards her and stopping in front of her. Slowly his fingers move to the little silver thing, which prevents her dress from slipping off her body. He carefully opens it and realizes that she is not wearing a bra. Again he swallows and his whole body becomes warm. But when he opens the zipper even further, he suddenly becomes ice-cold. Timidly, he strokes a large scar that marks her back. "Where did you get the scar from?" He asks her in a calm tone. Her eyes widen and she avoids his touch. "Nothing special. I once fell as a child.” (y/n) lies. She can't tell him where that scar is from. She's not ready to tell him yet. With a fake smile she goes into the bathroom and changes. When she comes out it has already stopped raining, and she accompanies Wakatoshi down the hallway. "Thanks Wakatoshi. Thank you for the nice evening with you and thank you for carrying me home.” Lovingly she gives him a kiss on his cheek and disappears into her apartment. All that remains is a puzzled Wakatoshi, who is holding his hand to his cheek. What was that all about? And why did it make him so happy? Why did he always want to be around her in general? He remembers the words of his friend Tendou. 'In addition to your passion for volleyball, you also need something you can love Wakatoshi-kun.' Is it her? Is (y/n) what he still needs? Still completely tired, (y/n) wakes by her alarm clock. Three hours of sleep is not really relaxing. But well. Sleepily, she gets ready for the day and then goes to the market to buy the food for the coming week. On the way back she is addressed by a relatively pretty woman, unknown to her. "You there! I saw you with Wakatoshi yesterday!” She yells at (y/n). "Have a good day too ...", (y/n) answers calmly but with a sarcastic undertone. "Don't act so stupid! You were out with my Wakatoshi yesterday.” Now (y/n)'s eyes widen. Her Wakatoshi? “May I ask who you are and what you want from me?" She tries to stay calm, even if it is difficult for her. "Indeed! I am Wakatoshi's girlfriend! Here!” She holds her cell phone so close under (y/n)'s nose that she has to take a step back in order to recognize anything at all. On her cell phone is a photo of Wakatoshi and her kissing each other. And several more photos follow, in which the two are very familiar with each other. (y/n) is a bit confused because she does not assume that Wakatoshi is someone who is dating two women at the same time, but she also sees the photos and therefore does not know exactly what to believe. "Listen, I didn't know he had a girlfriend. But there are only friendly feelings between Wakatoshi and me.”, she lies. Because she knows that she feels more than just friendship for him. Even if she is very confused about all of this. "Just stay away from him!" She roars one last time before bumping into (y/n) and walking past her. And such a naughty brat really should be Wakatoshi's girlfriend? No wonder he has no feelings for (y/n). This woman is the exact opposite of her.

Chapter 7 - He, she and the other woman

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mininky · 6 years

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Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

"(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

"Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

"Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

"Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

"Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

"That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

"You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

"I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

"We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

"Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

"Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

"I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

"I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

"It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

"Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

"Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

"See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

"Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

"Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

"Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

"It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

"Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

"Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

"Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

"Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

"Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

"Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

"Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

"If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

"Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

"Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

"Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

"Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

"Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

"Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

"Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

"Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

"Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

"You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

"So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

"Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

"Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

"Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

"Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

"Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

"We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

"Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

"Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

"Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

"Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

"So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

"I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

"Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

"You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

"Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

"Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

"Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

"I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

"You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

-----------------------------------

Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

------------------------------------

You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

"Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

"What, no motorcycle today?"

"Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

"So...where exactly are you taking me?"

"You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

"I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

"Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

"I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

"Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

"Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

"Black, just like my coffee."

"And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

"Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

"Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

"I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

"Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

"Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

"Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

"My turn. What's your favorite music?"

The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

"Still no motorcycle?"

"Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

"It just looks fun that's all."

"It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

"You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

"Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"

You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

"You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

"Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

"Let's hope you only have one kid then."

"Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

"And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

"God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

"What happens when they both fuck up?"

"Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.

You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

"Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

"I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

"God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

"Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

"Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

"Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

"Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

"What's my name doll?"

"Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

"Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

"Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

"God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

"Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

"You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

"No. It's just for you Yoongi."

"That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

"This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

"That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

"Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

"Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

"Did you realize you squirted?"

"Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

"God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

"Yeah, but you love that about me."

"Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

"You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.

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