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gaiuswrites · 3 years

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King of Cups || Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Judgement

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | seven

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: Things have changed, things have stayed the same.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: e m o (i can't stress this enough), illusions to mental health issues (?), emo, mature themes and language, EMO, family-trauma related angst, emo

Notes: I wanted to completely cut Din's perspective out of this chapter to emphasize the reader's pov. Hopefully it tracks? Big lovey-dovey shout out to @pedros-mustache for bonking me in the head with a proverbial pool noodle. ily friends. Be kind to yourself. Cheers x (gif credit: @bestintheparsec)

This is fine. You’re fine.

You’re okay with this.

You’re okay

You’re

You think, perhaps, the sting is made worse by the normalcy of it all.

You think, perhaps, that this stabbing—this splinter in your gut, prodding prodding prodding—would not be so sharp if it were different between you—if things were different; if it were clumsy and cumbersome and mauled. Ruined.

But it isn’t; it’s the same. You and Din and his boy, his adi’ka—it’s ordinary. Evergreen.

You suppose you should be grateful—grateful your dynamic hasn’t shifted, hasn’t sullied any. Grateful you still have your Mandalorian piloting you home. Grateful you have his foundling to keep you company, to keep you preoccupied.

But you feel false.

It’s as if you slipped into an alternate reality—one where you and Din touched each other, held each other; one where he buried his frustration to the hilt in your womb and you moaned his name like your tongue was formed for it—and then were snapped back to this one here—this nothing, this void—without anyone taking note of your absence. Because your routines—those domestic tableaus—remain unchanged. They are well-oiled and operate regardless— undeterred, succinct.

The days start the same.

You set aside a warm bowl of fruit and porridge, steam rising to greet him as it fans over his helm. Good morning.

Exiting the fresher, you find the dishes washed and dried—the towel folded neatly into a square beside them. Good morning.

You return the bowls to their shelf, nestling them right next to your unfulfilled expectations and embarrassing desires—butted against your silly, silly heart.

“Anything good?” he asks one night, passing through the galley as you thumb through the news on your holopad

You nearly choke on it—your throat closing up tight around the casual banality of the question. Because that’s what you two share now: you have things. You have quips and lines and normal and none of that disappeared after you’d made each other unravel not four paces away, pressed there against that wall—the wall that stands there even now, a tall and mocking reminder.

You wonder, if you sealed your ear to the bulkhead, could you still hear yourself? The symphonic reverb—your girlish pants, Din’s hoarse rasps— trapped there in the seams of the steel siding like the grooves of a record, to be played and played again.

“Never,” you say, like you’ve always said, and do your best to flash him a grin—the one you’ve worn before, the one, perhaps, you hope he likes. The one where you go dimpled and dove-like.

And then he makes for the cockpit and you are left

without.

The afternoons stretch familiar, too.

Din flies the ship and you watch the child—steering him clear of disasters and shenanigans the best you can. He tugs gentle at your hair; you nip at his little hand until he’s dissolved to giggles—the same the same the same, all of these acquainted patterns continuing to revolve on. Din lands and prepares for his hunt—banging around the belly of the ship, gathering weapons and ammunition and rations—and your eyes skitter along after him, following his hulking figure as he steps past where you and Munch are seated, heading towards the mouth of the Crest.

Din.

You’re half afraid of what it will sound like now— what it will feel like, bruised and jagged in your mouth. Like it doesn’t belong there, like it has no right laying claim to your tongue.

“Din,” you call hurriedly to the span of his broad back as he leaves the ship, your spine straightening out of the chair. You say it; you speak his name and to your surprise find it is none of those things—none of those ugly fears, none of those roughened gums. It’s worse.

Because scarier still, it comes out cotton soft; it comes out comfortable and true. It tastes like home maybe — like a version of home where people could come and go and laugh and not be frightened. Where they could hold little children in their arms and sleep and breathe and be and say I am here with you. Here we are. How special. I have chosen this. I have made this with you.

Din.

His shoulders tense and his feet stop short, just before the apex of the ramp. He turns to you, slow. Controlled.

“Good hunting.”

Din looks at you, the heavy umber of his eyes settling on your own, and he freezes—stock-still, his blood and muscles and bone thickened to paste, rendering him motionless. His dark gaze scans over you—the wisps of hair dancing around your face, the sag of your shirt lolling from your shoulder, his son in your lap. You bounce Munch on your knee and he gurgles out a quieted hum, glancing between his surrogate parent and you.

“Thank you,” Din replies, stilted, and you think you discern a subtle scrape of his modulator; you think you sense his lips part, pained and breathy, the cusp of another thought—of more, anything more— corralled by his sense of duty, hampered by the armor that plates him.

You untangle the boy’s claws from your hair and slip your fingers around his wrist, waving his green hand in a delicate to and fro.

Goodbye, it says. We’ll be right here when you get back.

He stays. For another glimmer of a millisecond he remains, sunlight pouring in through the opening of the Crest—shining off his beskar, off the gunmetal grey covering his body—focus trained on you both—before he pivots, cape whipping behind him as Din vanishes like he does without fail—away. Away.

To vapors.

Three days of this—three miserable days. Seventy-two suffocatingly mundane hours.

You figured this would be easy. You figured it could be as painless as you chose to make it. You were two consenting adults, after all—you both had needs, and you both met them—and you thought that this would be simple.

What you failed to take into consideration however, is that Din Djarin is anything but a simple man.

Because he is all these things, paradigms and paradoxes, coiled into one very tightly wound warrior—a warrior who can dismember a blaster just as effectively as he can sop up baby vomit from his foundling’s brown robes—one handed, no less. In flight. Din is all sharp edges and smooth silver, he’s cold and calculating and roguish and endearing and you can’t grapple with the dichotomy of him—with all these mismatched pieces at odds with themselves that somehow fit perfectly, inexplicably together.

You were naïve to assume you could go back—as if you could unremember the shape of his fingers as they filled you; as if you could make yourself forget how needy he bowed against you, how hot and thick his cock rested in your palm when he pitched his hips and released his desperation in white streaks along your skin.

And when your mind isn’t wholly consumed—smothered with the crushed velvet sin of that time-capsuled memory—it’s tortured in other ways, with crueler techniques. Pointed. Specified.

You watch him. You wish you could look away, but there isn't anywhere else to look. There isn’t a corner you can escape to, nor an inch of the Crest that isn’t him—isn’t an emblem of him, isn’t an extension of his personage.

You see him - day in, day out - interact with the child and Maker, it’s so precious and he’s so damn good. Two arms, cradling Munch snug to his chest—you know their strength now, you know their weight—and you observe as Din holds this boy with the same hands that unmade you—that molded you like clay and parted your wet heat. You see this man—so stoic, so reserved—dote on his child in a way that you never were, and bit by bit, it breaks you.

You caught them napping together once, compressed in that dingy of an alcove by the refresher. Your feet halted in their tracks at the sight and you held your breath—he’s a light sleeper, you didn’t dare wake them—Din’s helmet nodded to his chest and the kid, open-mouthed and adorable, nestled into the crook of his arm.

It made you want to sing. It made you want to cry.

You had to pry your boots from the floor and force yourself to move, to scram. You had to be anywhere else but there, ogling like a spectator at a zoo, nose smushed against the glass, watching the last of some great species simply be as nature intended—calm, drowsy, at peace.

You busied yourself then, scuttling preoccupied about the Crest but the image never evaporated, it never faded—it dogged you, tacking itself onto your psyche: the picture of him there, Din and his boy, holding on to one another like anchors while they slept, and you can't resist drawing the question.

Is that what it’s supposed to look like, to feel like—a father’s arms around your shoulders? Is that what safe looks like? Is that what family is?

You wouldn’t know. You cannot recollect the glow of it—the memory of such an embrace—on your own skin, and isn’t that what makes it all so achingly befitting, so inevitable. As if the Moirai—those weird sisters—spun this string of fate tailored to your being and plucked it like a harp, curating a melody for you and you alone.

Because you see Din give what you never got, and it makes you want. You want him. You curse yourself for it, but fuck you want him—every sordid part of you is tugged and pulled in his direction. You want him, magnetically, you want him you want him you wa—

And Din is fine. A Mandalorian pillar, undisturbed. He is bedrock. This is the Way.

And while he withstands the weathering, you crumble beneath it. It's eroding you. Like tides crashing monotonous against a beaten shore, you are in granules—and these morsels, ever-fine, they nick you - gritting - sanding you raw, abrading you rugged.

You thought you could ignore them at first. They were but lace whispers behind your ear—muted and tickling and just far off enough to deflect. But with each passing moment those feathered words grew loud—rude and vocal and you couldn’t keep them out. Round and round, they wriggled into your most tender swathes of skin. Skipless. Poison.

He regrets it.

He didn’t want it.

He didn’t enjoy it.

He didn’t want me He doesn’t want me I’m not wanted

These thoughts, insistent and pervasive, they are sewn into the bed of your mind one ugly seed at a time. You water them. You don’t mean to, you don’t wish to cultivate these errs but you know they will fester and grow with or without you. So you tend them—watchful, you garden—and they push up through the soil, sprouting weeds, choking the dirt. Marring it fallow.

But you’re okay with this. You’re fine—look at you, you’re fine.

///

The planet of Jelucan is bustling.

It’s got a pulse of its own, energetic and thrumming; there’s an electric current charging the cool air. It’s alive. This place is alive. Towers and buildings are chiseled into the cliff faces of the mountains framing the city, reaching tall towards the pale blue sky overhead. The capital—Valentia, you learned—is almost offensively busy— far busier than any of the backwater territories you and Din had explored in the recent months. There’s so much noise, it’s cacophonous— speeders dodging pedestrians milling about the throughway, engines whirring and backfiring, merchants arguing, hawking foods and goods from their windowed shops and brightly colored stalls, politicians and well to-dos seemingly gliding above it all as the common rabble of varying species and origins mingle and mix.

You suppose it reminds you of Coruscant. You suppose that makes you nervous.

Because you’ve been holed up in his ship and flitting through the Outer Rim, seeing the stars and the moons and planets and there’s just so much life—everywhere, everywhere— this galaxy is chalked full of it; it’s spilling over the sides with it all. And Maker, these months have felt like an adventure; they’ve felt like a fantasy, like an escape. You’ve eloped, caught in the whirlwind romance of it all—shirking your duties, your career, absconding from your shitty, shoebox of an apartment back home.

But Valentia is all too quick to ground you, all too eager to remind you of that blissfully forgotten reality; it taps on its wristwatch, gutting you with a look:

your time, my dear, is up.

The cobbled pavement underfoot is stony and industrial, each step landing too hard, too hollow—like everyone can hear your chipped heart pounding through your boots—exposing you, coloring you a liar.

This is fine. You’re fine. You’re okay with this.

You’ve been telling yourself that—bargaining, pleading—attempting to manifest into fruition; speaking it to yourself like a chant in hopes it’ll stick—in hopes you’ll fall for the ruse.

But it’s as if each dulled footfall shakes the rust from your neglected truth, revealing all too plainly that no. No, you’re not. You aren’t.

You and Din do not walk in tandem—his gait is longer, and he’s a stride in front of you—but there isn't so much space between your bodies that his presence doesn’t distract you completely, doesn’t eat you up and make you fizz. Your gaze could latch anywhere in this packed, teeming city, and you would still see him. Still feel him—on the nape of your neck, in the wet pink of your cunt. Throbbing reminders of the man that has knotted himself so seamlessly into your world.

You shake your head, locks rustling— as if you could rock him loose from where he clings on to your mind— when you feel a spindled hand at the wing of your back. Startled, you spin towards the touch.

There’s a woman— she isn’t human, but judging by her general appearance she’s some species close to it. She’s old. Whittled. Her maroon eyes are clouded, her silvered hair swooped back into a low bun, wiry frizz haloing the crown of her head.

She’s petite, but it looks wrong— inorganic. Too knobby, she’s all elbows and boney angles where she shouldn’t be. It’s as if she’s shrinking, right there before you. Time, pressing her in— pressing her down.

She’s lived a life in the sun; she wears lines on her face, deep and haggard, and her skin is pulled taut around her skull like hide stretched over a tanning rack. She’s ancient, prehistoric.

She’ll probably outlive you all.

An alien language you don’t recognize comes spilling fast from her thin mouth. You can’t decipher the string of words rushing like river water, the current unstoppable, but you garner she’s insistent; there’s no misconstruing the earnest fervor in her voice. Something woolen is held tight in her grasp—a blanket, by the looks of it, intricate and pleated—and she’s handing it to you like her very existence depends on it.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, confusion evident on your brow, “I’m sorry I don’t—”

She continues speaking, urgent and desperate and pleading—gesticulating as she offers you the throw, the shiny golden thread needled into the patchwork winking in the afternoon sun. The child slung at your side chirps curiously, saucer-large eyes following the shimmer of the fabric.

“I’m sorry, it’s beautiful - really - but—”

You’re jobless and blowing through your savings at a blistering speed. You barely have two measly credits to rub together; getting supplies is tricky enough as is. Purchasing something as ornate and superfluous as a blanket was out of the question. Munch coos sadly, a twitter of his voice, and it ruptures your heart to say it, “I can’t afford something like this.”

The bell on the door to the adjacent shop grabs your attention, producing a Twi’lek as it opens. She’s younger, perhaps around your age, and her lilac lekku bob as she bounds over to you.

“Hi,” she breathes, lips pulling back to reveal a charming smile as she glances between you two. “Everything okay?”

Before you can get a word out the elder resumes chattering, incensed as she addresses the other store attendant—you think it might be Old Corellian, some archaic dialect you presumed died out eons ago, predating the Battle of Yavin by centuries.

Just how old is this woman?

There’s a hushed exchange between them—the Twi’lek’s attempt at the language proving stiff. Her cadence is clunky, nowhere near as smooth and lilted as the other woman’s, but they must come to some sort of a conclusion, because they face you—two sets of eyes, burrowing blinkless into yours. The girl takes a small half step towards you, speaking - blessedly - in Basic.

“The blanket. It’s for you. She wants you to have it,” she explains, “for the little one.”

A twitch notches your eyebrow, gaze flickering back to the older woman, something akin to a crinkled smile worn into the grooves of her wizened face. She nods, fervent and solemn—a seriousness set in the desperate way she bores into you, urging you to understand. To see.

More foreign utterances pass between them— the younger woman listening to her soft vowels and gritting consonants for a beat, before continuing to translate.

“She says, you have a beautiful family. It makes her—” the Twi’lek pauses, choosing her next words, “yearn for the past, to reclaim time.”

Family. A beautiful family. A beautiful—

You consider telling them.

You consider correcting her, informing these kind souls that you’re only temporary. A fleeting thing— like the seasons, autumn dying cold into winter— you’ll leave when the time comes. You consider telling them that that’s the arrangement you agreed to, and that you’ll be delivered back to Coruscant and deposited off at your doorstep with nothing but a cheap, portable cot and an unused blaster the bounty hunter had unfathomably given to you once upon a time. That they’ve mistaken you for someone else—someone important to Din and his foundling. Someone relevant. Someone permanent.

But, you don’t.

You don’t rectify their assumption. Your silence betrays you, confirming the lie, and you grant yourself to revel in it. Like slipping into silk sheets, you roll in the luxury of the imaginary sentiment— letting it swaddle you, comfort you, kiss your skin.

And just for a moment, maybe you allow yourself to believe that this is real: the three of you, a perfect band of misfits; entwined together, fated and star-crossed.

A family.

“She hopes you know that what you have is special. She says, she hopes you hold onto them—never let go. Never.”

Fuck.

Can they hear it? Can they hear the way parts of you fracture like slate and quake to the asphalt in shards? Can they see the shiver in your knees—how your nails dig into the rough tweed of the satchel hung long beside you?

You steal a trepid glance back at Din who has since stopped and stands idle in wait—there in the middle of the lane, a single stone splitting the sea of people passing through. He’s unreadable, his visor illegible. He appears statuesque, arms immobilized in plaster by his sides—inhuman under all that effacing steel as life moves in flurries, eddying around him.

The kid babbles, snapping your focus off the Mandalorian and returning it to the two women. They adorn their sincerity openly, as one would a badge, extending the blanket to you—you, a perfect stranger.

Shit. Tears prickle the wells of your eyes. There’s something lodged in your throat— a canary in a cage, batting violent against its bars. You attempt to swallow it down with an ugly gulp, but it provides no relief. This emotion you’ve leveed—your joy, your pain and embarrassment, your desire and need—it swells in you, threatening to slosh over. You blink it back, keeping it confined safely behind your lash line.

“I—thank you,” you manage, looking between them. Awed and humbled, you accept their offering, handling it with the care of something holy—something sacred—and drawing it to your chest. Immediately, Munch latches a claw into a drooping corner of the woven material, a happy hum sounding from his droll grin. “Thank you,” you murmur again, reverent and breathy, reversing away from them—refusing to drop their gaze until you must—before finally righting yourself and walking on.

You’re shaken. You’re shaking.

And it is on shaky feet that you meet Din some steps later, pausing once you arrive next to him. His helm shifts; you register the sweep of his eyes roving over you—the burn of them along your shoulders, sloping down to the blanket folded against your breasts, slipping lower to his adi’ka sitting in the satchel at your hip. He’s clutching at the new token, dipping the edge of it into his tiny mouth to teethe.

And then,

he lifts at the wrist, orange glove tips raising - reaching - towards you. Din takes the hem of the quilt between his fingers experimentally, massaging the feel of the fabric—his knuckles brushing the exposed skin of your arm, searing into your flesh like a hot iron, lingering there mesmerizingly.

It’s the first he's touched you. It’s the first he’s touched you since, since—

His hand drops, hinging back to his side.

“Ready?”

His modulated voice crackles indiscernible and your stomach leaps to your neck. Are you breathing? Kriff, you’re not sure. You have to check—deliberately drawing in a gust of chilled air, the rush burning your lungs as you suck it down. With a nod of your head, a placid smile glosses over the shudder of your features, dousing the singe of your nerves.

“Ready.”

///

You think about that old woman later that day, and the many days that follow, her visage marked with centuries and regret and history. Life, evident in the spider’s web of wrinkles engraving her. But there was love too, clearly wormed into the lines of her face. So much of it— almost too much for a galaxy this hard and war-torn. The things she’s possibly witnessed: the atrocities, the devastation, the loss.

The wisdom she has gained while all of those she’s ever known succumb to the inevitability of age, as her past decays around her. The knowledge she absorbs while she withers—while time does nothing but skip by. Blameless. Forever onward.

In your dreams that night, she appears in front of you like mist rising off a lake, astral and ephemeral— there, but not. Haunting you, inescapable wherever you fix your eye. The woman nods silently. She’s mouthing something to you, but the words never come.

You understand.

tags:

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @djarrex @djarinsbeskar @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled @bookishofalder @helmet-comes-off @grumpymuffinmama @niiight-dreamerrrr @spideysimpossiblegirl @janebby @greatcircle79 @gracie7209 @thatonedindjarinfan @altered-delta @email2ash @stevie75 @shegatsby @onebrownoneblue @sammysdaisy @uniquebiscuitmongerdonkey

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #mando x fem!reader #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #star wars fandom #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x you #mando x you #din djarin x ofc #mando x ofc #king of cups

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karasunology · 4 years

Text

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ BOKUTO KOUTARO BEING A DAD HEADCANONS! ❞

✎ . . . will you please write about oikawa, bokuto, and sugawara as dads?? :>

❝ ― submitted by @ nonnie <3 ❞

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ bokuto koutaro <3

[ trigger warnings ━ slight manga spoilers !! ]

✎ . . . DAD HEADCANONS.

[ SUGAWARA KOUSHI & OIKAWA VERSION. ] [ MIYA ATUSMU VERSION. ] [ KUROO TETSURO & KOZUKE KENMA VERSION. ] [ IWAIZUMI HAJIME VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . no thoughts, head and heart full of bokuto koutaro

BOKUTO KOUTARO.

➜ bokuto wanted to have a baby with you

➜ that's it that's the tweet thank you for reading😌💅

➜ i'm kidding don't leave, i have abandonment issues

➜ just like oikawa, kou ─ your husband, has gotten baby fever and it wasn't going down any minute until bb boy gets his way

➜ phew, i'd let him get his way with me✋😳

➜ bokuto was great with kids, always playing around with them in a park as if he was one of them, and both of you knew that

➜ and when bokuto sees that you're also good with kids, mans knew he wanted to build a family with you

➜ he wanted not just one, because seeing what both of you created taking in different forms and pieces of their parents would leave him so proud

➜ would very much take it as a sign from the universe saying to him that the both of you were meant to be patents

➜ the day he lets you awknowledge his little daydream, was when the both of you were sitting down on the coach re-watching his match last week after babysitting one of your guys' friend's kid

➜ mans couldn't TAKE IT ANYMORE

➜ the way you coo at the child, you cooked with the child and just the way you tenderly supported the kid with your arms as you helped him reach a toy from the shelf

➜ and of course, you accepted it; there wasn't any other man other than kou that you wanted to start a family with

➜ let's just say mans wanted to make one right then and there after you confessed to him that you wanted to start a family with him as well

➜ and y'all did just that💀

➜ after receiving the news of your pregnancy, bokuto has never been more happy, aside from those times he won a match on nationals and, well ─ marrying you

➜ but in the white noise of excitement and joyfulness, there was a lingering thought and it was terrifying; what if he doesn't make enough time for both you and his child because of volleyball? will he have to take a break from it? would your child love him?

➜ bokuto was now down to emo mode just with the thought of your guys' children hating him

➜ and when the thoughts became to unbearable, he contacts akaashi.

“ bokuto-san, ” koutaro could tell akaashi was thinking about it before saying something,

“ you're one of the best men i know that's good with children; don't waste your time sulking about nonsensical what if's, when the present is right there in front of you ”

➜ akaashi was, to say the least, your one of your children's godfather.

➜ but the day your babies was going to arrive, it was as if your husband had a switch and unlike the usual ─ he was the one supporting you

➜ he held your hand, squeezing them to let you be aware that he's right there by your side, knowing that you needed all the support right now and he gave it to you

➜ tenfolds the support you gave him

➜ and when be first saw the first triplet being born, he knew right there that he fell in love once again, but with the child he has co-produced with the love of his life !!

➜ i just wanted to say that y'all's kids are NIGHT OWLS, literally, gets the biggest bursts of energy at ungodly hours

➜ koutaro would still get anxious and terrified, but there was something about your triplets that puts him at ease ─ like, one thing he'd be doubting himself and then the next thing, he'd be all fuzzy inside when his three triplets just looked like a litter of puppies asking for his attention on his lap

➜ and he'd just, revert back to reality seeing how blessed he was and stopped doubting himself and just live in the present

➜ EYE ─ I'M SO SOFT I CAN'T😭✋

“ now say dada ” he encouraged the little sunshines on his lamp as a youthful giggle serenated from his son's lips

“ dawa ─ ” the baby tried to copy his words, before shreiking of laughter when kosuke saw the defeated look on his father's face, somehow bringing him joy

➜ while his baby girl, kouzumi, was peacefully attached to him as the most interesting in her golden eyes were his hair ─ attempting to reach her arms to his hair, making grabby arms

➜ after a few months, you've noticed how much your triplets were in sync with their father ─ all together, being balls of sunshine

“ you've been trying for hours kou, take a break. ” you laugh, as you looked up from the book you were holding seeing your husband housing an offended look, and of course ─ a weird sound, a scoff? you didn't know, until, your other son imitated him

➜ almost perfecting the one he made

➜ and bokuto was ECSTATIC

“ hONEY, HONEY, OH MY GOD DID YOU HEAR THAT? ” he squealed, as his son imitated his sound again

“ he's responding to me !! ”

“ dO IT AGAIN KOSUKE ” he says as he takes out his phone

➜ the type of father to do the peek-a-boo game with his triplets and doing it perfectly as they're just enamured by his father as if he was doing some avada kedevra shit 😭🗿

➜ hey queen!! 🙆👑 GIRL, YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN, CONSTANTLY RAISING📈📉 THE BAR🔝 FOR US AND DOING IT F L A W L E S S L Y

➜ the type of father that would never miss any important moments with his children, even though he's a busy with volleyball especially since it's his profession

➜ the type of father that has too many videos of his children on his phone saying papa in different ways, trying to imitate him, first steps, first laugh & JUST EVERYTHING

➜ has a whole usb of his children, three folders for each of them

➜ has a whole ass frame of his daughter's drawing from five years old of him and her and he would NOT let anyone touch it other than him and maybe you when you when you need to dust off the frames because it's getting too dusty

➜ you guys would always be there to support him no matter what, either in the stands of at home

➜ but when you guys do visit his games and cheer him on, MANS WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE

“ mommy !! look, daddy's coming ” kaoru, the youngest of your triplets, tugged softly on your coat

➜ you smiled as you saw your husband running up to you and your kids after his matches as a few reporters, in respect, stood a few meters away from you guys, taking kosuke on his right arm, the other with kaoru and on top of his shoulders was kouzumi tugging on her father's spiked hair she could never seem to get over with

“ ahH ─ my hair baby girl, you're kinda hurting daddy ” koutaru laughed as your daughter tried processing his words before wrapping her arms around his head softly to not fall off a small gasp escaping her lips

“ i'm sowry for hurting you daddy! ” she exclaimed as her brothers tried telling her off while the reporters just watched in awe at her

“ don't hurt daddy just because he lets you on top of there ─ ” kosuke scolded her, slightly jealous that she had the highest view

“ ─ yeah! ” your youngest vigorously nodded his head as he agreed to his brother, both obviously pouting that she had the chance to be ontop of their father's shoulders

“ uh kou, i can take them now since there's a few people wanting to interview you. ” you offered as you jerked your head onto the reporters directions smiling at them

“ oh no ma'am !! it's alright, we also kinda wanted to interview your children as well, since a lot of netizens are curious about them, seeing them everywhere on his socials. ”

➜ you guys agreed as they start asking you guys questions, but more to the triplets as they responded cutely, their identical amber eyes looking at them like an owl in curiousity

➜ JUST IMAGINE THREE ADORABLE OWL LOOKING KIDS HANGING ON TO THEIR MOTHER OWL AND BOKUTO JUST LOOKS LIKES A MONKEY BAR LMAO

➜ like these kids just attached to him lmao

➜ but there are times where he has to go on tournaments, training camps, olympics & probably photoshoots/commercials ngl and these three owls he left in your care are in EMO MODE LMAOO😭✋

➜ they got it from their dad, and you were now stuck with three emo bokutos but times three

➜ wow multiplication

➜ when she's a mathematician😍

➜ but bokuto would honestly also miss his children clinging to him for dear life

➜ like they would never be separated without having facetime calls every five hours

➜ but your kids understood that he has other things to do and theg try not to complain that much for your sake

➜ your kids are actually sweethearts okay 🥺

➜ when they grew up, his sons were still attached to him but they weren't as clingey as when they were in their childhood days ─ but your daughter phew, your daughter used to be the clingiest of them all and now it's just none, nonexistent, vanished, obliviated, avada kedevra LMAO

➜ like you know how teenagers be

➜ and your husband was DEPRESSED ABOUT IT

➜ his bb girl won't touch his hair anymore :(

➜ his bb girl won't be a little girl no more :(

➜ especially when kouzumi starts having boyfriends😭 MANS WAS SAD THAT THERE ARE ALREADY BOYS OTHER HIM IN HER LIFE

➜ it felt as if it wasn't even yesterday that kouzumi said that she don't need no prince, she'll be both a fucking princess and knight in shinning armor

➜ ugh periodt💅

➜ and koutaro's nows just like

“ WHERE DID ALL THAT TALK GO ?? ”💀💀💀

➜ ALSO BOKUTO GIVES THE BEST ADIVCES NO CAP

➜ gives volleyball advices, relationship advices better than u could ever

➜ this is getting too long but, even if some of his kids may not show it anymore, they still love their father so much and won't let anyone replace him because he's basically the ace of their hearts.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #bokuto koutaro #bokuto koutaro headcanons #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutaro scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #bokuto x reader #hq imagines #hq scenarios #hq fluff #bokuto koutaro imagines

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carynnhalen · 3 years

Text

Club Olympus was one of Carynn’s favorite spots in Gotham to visit. Usually because security was lax and it was easy to sneak in without paying the cover fee. Maxie Zeus was doing another stint in Arkham, and that meant it would be easy to score free drinks. Carynn weaved her way through the crowd of dancing people and headed for the bar, shoving her way between a couple of frat boys who were trying to work up the courage to ask Deadshot for a photo.

The guy behind the bar sent her a nod in greeting. “Sup, Carynn. You workin’?” his name was Nick. She’d met him a few years ago when he worked in a hole in the wall bar Josie’s that was in Hells Kitchen. He was nice enough. He was one of the only guys Carynn knew that still had a mohawk, but he was nice enough.

Carynn scrunched her nose, shaking her head. “Taking the night off,” she shouted over the music. “Needed some peace and quiet.”

Nick laughed, setting two glasses out in front of her. “The usual?” it was a rhetorical question. Nick filled one glass to the brim with whiskey, the top shelf option tonight, and the other filled with a vodka soda. “You stay out of trouble.” he said with a wink, pushing the two glasses towards her.

“Always do! Later, Nick.” she scooped up her drinks, expertly heading back through the crowd and up to a balcony that usually served to be a little more quiet than the rest of the club. She hadn’t really had much of a plan for her night off. Mostly she just needed to blow off some steam. Between Captain America showing up to her apartment, and her phone ringing almost non stop with calls from Bruce, things were getting a little too mysterious and heavy all at once.

Carynn plopped down in a booth, her kicking up her booted feet up onto the table. Taking a generous sip of her vodka soda, she pulled her phone out of her jacket and unlocked the screen. More calls from Bruce. A text from Cel. A few notifications from Dante commenting on her Instagram.

She scrolled through her contacts; Bruce (even though she kept deleting and blocking his number it still seemed to find it’s way back onto her phone), Cel, Dante, Oliver, a few numbers of work contacts...was that it? Carynn sighed, downing the rest of her drink and picking up the glass of whiskey.

“I see you still have no manners.” a voice said in Russian just before Carynn’s feet were shoved off of the table.

Carynn’s frowned, looking up from her phone. “What the fuck do you think you’re-...oh, Christ. It’s you,” she rolled her eyes at the woman that was now sliding into the booth across from her. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere skinning a puppy or something?”

Isabel Rochev. She was the current owner of Queen Industries and a certified nutjob. She smiled sweetly at Carynn, almost like she was happy to see her. She folded her gloved hands onto the table, leaning towards Carynn with interest. The large rock that had once belonged to Oliver’s mother was almost blinding in the flickering lights above them.

“I’ve missed you too, Carynn.” she said again in Russian, passing a glance over her shoulder quickly before looking back at the red head. “You are hard to find. Not because you’re in hiding, but because you can’t seem to sit still. I almost thought I’d have to forego my little proposition.”

“You could tell me Keanu Reeves is downstairs waiting to use me as a chew toy. I’d still tell you to fuck off, Isabel.” Carynn said, kicking her feet back up onto the table.

Isabel laughed a genuine laugh. Like they were good friends catching up. “Unfortunately, that is not the offer I have for you. My contacts have told me that Oliver is on his way back to Gotham. I was hoping you and I could come to an...agreement. I know you and Oliver are not in the best of places. And I know that for the right price you remove problems.”

Carynn had to admit, this was a first. She’d never really expected anyone to offer her cash to off Oliver. And maybe, if it had been anyone else sitting across from her, she might have considered the job. “If you want him gone you should do it yourself. Nothing says girl boss like killing your sugar daddy’s son...” she frowned, tilting her head. “Was he your sugar daddy? I’ve never really understood your relationship, at least aside from him definitely being married to someone else the entire time...”

Isabel pursed her lips. “Do not patronize me, Carynn. You and I are far more alike than you will ever admit. You know this deep down. I am offering you a solution to both of our problems.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Carynn spat. “And Oliver isn’t my problem anymore. I don’t waste time thinking about him. I have bigger shit to worry about.”

“Well, what are these problems? Perhaps I can help you. We could form a partnership. Take what belongs to us. I have come a long way since I last saw you-” Isabel looked to her right, into the crowd below them. She visibly froze, her eyes set on something.

Carynn leaned forward, trying to follow Isabel’s gaze. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The bar was a little less crowded now. Carynn could spot one of the exit doors nearby. There was someone standing next to it. She couldn’t really make him out. Long, dark hair. A leather jacket. The black mask covering his nose and mouth stood out the most, but in a place like Gotham it was definitely not the craziest thing she’d seen.

Isabel looked over her shoulder once more, nodding quickly. A tall man, who Carynn assumed had to be Isabel’s security, stepped towards them. He looked down into the crowd, surveying the area before speaking into an earpiece. Isabel turned her attention back to Carynn, her smile more nervous now than genuine.

“I must go. Something has come up...please, think of my offer,” she set her clutch on the table, fishing through it before pulling out a business card. “This is where you can reach me. The number is safe, don’t worry. I hope to hear from you soon, Carynn.”

Carynn watched Isabel walk off with her security guard before sinking down further into her seat and groaning. So much for peace and quiet. She picked up the card, rolling her eyes at the idea of taking up Isabel’s offer. Another number to put in my phone, at least, Carynn thought with a sigh.

She tossed back the rest of her drink, slipping her phone and Isabel’s card back into her pocket before sliding out of the booth. Maybe she’d go to another club, maybe she’d head home, she wasn’t sure yet.

Carynn headed downstairs, waving at Nick before slipping out of the same exit that Isabel’s mysterious friend had been standing next to just a few moments before. Carynn didn’t really care who he was to Isabel. Maybe he was some pissed off ex boyfriend, maybe he wanted to kill her. Who could really know? Carynn just didn’t want any part of whatever shit storm Isabel was no doubt stirring up.

The alleyway outside of the club was quiet tonight. Usually there were a few people milling around, someone puking into the dumpster or arguing about what club to hit up next. Maybe it was still too early for that. Or maybe Batman was out patrolling and had spooked them all.

The closer she got to the mouth of the alley, Carynn realized she could hear another heartbeat. It was slow, very quiet. Maybe someone passed out in the trash? That was definitely nothing she hadn’t seen before. She slowed down a little, pulling her phone out to pretend she was busy as she approached the dumpster.

The smell wafting from it nearly smacked her across the face. It wasn’t a bad smell. Completely the opposite. Sort of a smoky yet spicy smell that made her mouth water like in the fall when Pauli’s Diner was serving pumpkin pie. Carynn leaned forward to try and get a look at whoever it was hiding by the dumpster.

Something hit her like freight train.

Carynn had been completely caught off guard. Her back smacked against the brick wall, pain radiating down her spine. Her attacker’s hand was around her throat, the gloved hand making her gurgle as she struggled to breathe. Her vision blurred in and out, but she could just barely make out the man that Isabel had been watching just minutes ago.

“How do you know Isabel? What were you discussing?” more Russian, great. This was very, very, very not good.

His hand was like an iron clamp around her throat. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. Carynn reached out, swiping blindly at his face to scratch him.

Mister tall, dark and creepy let her go with an eye roll. Carynn slouched against the wall, coughing. “Talk.” he spat.

He had gotten the upper hand on her once, that much she could admit. That wasn’t something that would happen again. “I don’t know anything,” Carynn snapped back in English. “It’s not like we’re friends. She’s a pain in the ass...! Look, I don’t want any trouble, okay? I don’t really have much info-”

She pulled the knife she had clipped to her belt free and lunged forward. Her mystery man moved quickly, but not quickly enough. The blade pierced through his jacket, grazing his skin.

He grabbed her throat again, slamming Carynn back into the brick wall. She’d been expecting something like that. She grabbed her knife, getting a better grip of it and kicking her feet up against his chest and using all of her weight to shove him away.

Carynn rushed forward, Dark and Emo blocking her physical blows easily. He moved just as quickly as she did. Now that they were both fully alert, it was difficult for either of them to get a good hit in. Carynn noticed that he didn’t guard his left arm as vigorously as his right, and she saw a window of opportunity.

She tried to bury her knife into his left bicep. It ripped through his jacket, but the sound that was almost like nails on a chalkboard made Carynn flinch and jump back from him. The blade of her knife had been almost snapped in half. “What the fuck...” she muttered, tossing the dagger aside.

Her opponent leaned down, pulling a large, tactical knife that was strapped to his boots. He lunged towards her, Carynn throwing her arms up in front of her to block his swing. She kicked down hard at his shin, throwing him slightly off balance as he tossed the knife from one hand to his other, the blade stabbing through her jacket.

Carynn slipped down and around him, jumping onto his back. Her legs wrapped tightly around his wait, she put him into a headlock. Terminator man didn’t seem very panicked, regardless of his airway being cut off. He spun around, slamming Carynn into the wall a few times in an attempt of knocking her off of him.

Her grip around his throat loosened, instead she decided to try and pull his mask off to get a better look at who was trying to attack her. Unfortunately that distraction left her open, and the man sunk his knife into her thigh. Carynn screamed out in pain, her opponent tossing her off of him easily.

She landed on the ground with a thud. She had to move quickly. He was stomping towards her, his hands clenched at his sides. Carynn ripped the knife from her leg with a grunt. This would definitely slow her down. She couldn’t afford to be slow.

Carynn tossed the knife. It was better to keep him from it than having it to defend herself. The Masked Douchebag bent forward to grab her ankle. Carynn kicked at him, but he easily smacked her leg away. He lifted her up, slamming her into the wall. Carynn fell face down, groaning loudly. Get up, get up, get up, she told herself.

The sound of boots stomping towards her made her panic. She reached inside of her bra as the stranger picked her up by her jacket, pulling out the pocket knife she kept there. Before he could throw her again, she plunged the knife into his side. This time it did more damage than ruining his clothes.

He dropped her, grunting in pain and anger. Carynn used the distraction to push herself up off the ground, rushing away towards the dumpster to put distance between them. Her leg gave out from under her, and she fell into a pile of trash bags.

Her opponent pulled the knife from his side, once again tossing it aside and heading straight for Carynn. She scrambled backwards, freezing at the sound of a phone ringing. The two went still, looking at each other as the ringing filled the alley way.

The man reached into his jacket, pulling a flip phone out. “We have spotted the target. Enough of whatever it is you are doing. Get to the bottom of whatever Isabel has planned.” someone said on the other line.

“Yes sir,” the Masked Asshole said. “Send me the address. I will find her.” he closed his phone, his eyes trained on Carynn. And as quickly as the altercation had started, it was suddenly over. He turned, grabbing his knife from the ground and wiping it clean on his pants. Without looking back at her, he strolled off and out of the alley way as if nothing had happened.

Carynn let out a loud, relieved sigh and sank back into the trash bags. “Holy fuck that hurts,” she hissed out, grabbing at her thigh. Her hands were covered in warm, sticky blood. “These are my favorite pants...I’m gonna find you you goddamn bastard!” she shouted after the stranger.

She groaned, pulling out her phone. She would heal eventually, but now there was no way she’d be able to make it home on her own. And taxi drivers didn’t like it so much when you bled all over their seats. She opened up a new message, pinging her location and typing the word help to Dante.

“I fucking hate this city.” she sighed, leaning back to look up at the starry sky above her.

#plot points

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akitokihojo · 4 years

Text

Delicate - Chapter 3

Inuyasha was unsuspecting of his own actions as time steadily progressed. Without realizing, he'd begun to scan the school grounds for Kagome, feeling a little less edgy when he'd spot her walking along or standing by, listening to her friend rant about something. Instead of appearing unaware and self-involved in the corridor, if he caught her scent or her voice, he'd glance over at her. She was almost always looking back. The real kicker that knocked the air from him was his unconscious reaction to her greeting. When did he go from brooding grunts to smiling hello's? Where was the shift? How was it suddenly so natural to respond to the upturn of her lips when she traveled over to him with a grin of his own.

He was beginning to panic.

Clearly, she was a dangerous creator of emotional turmoil. The same witchcraft Sango casted on the flirtatiously-smooth Miroku must have been casted on Inuyasha. And she was cruel enough to do that idiotically cute cock of her head when she greeted him after her seance had been completed. The audacity of this woman. There was no evidence of ritualistic activities in her room, though, sans for a scented candle on her nightstand which could potentially pass for something, but with how often his dumbass of a friend went on about that being the only feasible reason to his own problem, it had somehow weaseled its way into Inuyasha’s head that it was a tangible possibility for his, too. What else would explain the half demon suddenly growing mushy and nice after claiming from the get-go that he wasn’t worried about developing any sort of connection with her? So, he made it a point to check for clues when he visited for their study sessions. Nothing. Not a gothic, ceremonial, sacrificial, or satanic thing in sight. She was the epitome of bubbles and flowers - until she was mad. It was bullshit. Because all that meant was he was becoming just as fucked in the head as Miroku.

He'd told himself, just stop reacting. Mind your business. Keep your head down and go back to grunting, and the sensations will eventually go away for good. This isn't anything to worry about. But, then his eyes landed on her right after school one day. Koga stood a little too close for his liking, and she was giving the wolf that same smile that made his brain a little foggy. He didn't like it. It was a stiff awareness that crawled up his esophagus, that heated him unpleasantly, that tensed his jaw and sharpened his sight. He was jealous, and unwillingly so. He was wrong to think opening up even the slightest was harmless with Kagome. It was always the other person he had to push away; it was never - not once - himself that he had to hold back.

Every day since, he had to swallow his growl when he saw the jock joke around with Kagome, give playful touches to Kagome, ask Kagome if she wanted to go somewhere with him. Especially when the stupid wolf grasped for any excuse to talk to her while she was hanging beside Inuyasha. He had to remind himself, and he hated that he actually needed the reminder, that if he didn't want anything from her, he was in no position to give anyone else shit. Nor did he plan on giving anyone any insight on the feelings he was currently attempting to subside. It was irrational. He felt utterly foolish.

That was as far as he'd allow things to go.

Hey, gotta cancel tomorrow's study session. I'll let you know the next time I'm available.

Kagome grew increasingly disappointed the longer she stared at the text message. He'd been coming over every week for the past three months, multiple times a week more often than not. It was easy to grow accustomed to, and if anyone asked her, she'd be willing to admit she enjoyed the time they spent together. She'd learned how to bounce off of his attitude with her own, how to get him to admit little things he was reluctant to at first, how to read his sloppy handwriting - which was a feat on its own. She liked his presence most of all, because he wasn't as hostile or grumpy as looks would deem, but she also liked when he came over during the weekend and he wore one of those casual, v-neck shirts that didn't sink too low but showed the edge of his clavicles. She liked the way cotton sweaters hugged him, and how, no matter the weather, he still rolled up the sleeves of the shirt of his school uniform. She liked the way he leaned a little closer when she had questions about a problem, and how she could catch his pleasant and unnerving scent. She only had to deal with the rampant fluttering in her belly during the first two minutes of being with him - yes, she'd timed it - and then things would calm and everything flowed rhythmically from then on.

He was busy, he had a life, she totally got that. She was just bummed that she didn't get to see him this weekend when it had been something she’d been able to look forward to for a while now. Even when she caught the drift of her studies and he didn’t necessarily have to help her with anything, they’d sit and do homework together, and sometimes watch a movie in her room if they finished before he had to get home.

No worries! Have fun doing whatever!

She meant it. She really did. No one had to know she was ready to turn on anything emo by Avril Lavigne to drown out her exaggerated letdown. She wasn’t so selfish that she’d act like he owed her his time or anything. Just dramatic enough to wallow in self-pity with her bedroom door closed while absolutely ignoring every freaking thought that told her he might, might, be out with another girl.

Kagome wasn’t oblivious to the exact moment she’d sunk so low that she couldn’t convince herself into thinking she didn’t care for him passed study buddy material anymore. It happened rapidly; like the Twilight Zone’s Tower of Terror dropping six stories kind of rapid. He’d come over after school for not the first time, he’d greeted her mom and brother for not the first time, he’d carried the waters up for the umpteenth time, but then once the door was shut and the books were out, he brought up a picture on her bookshelf in the far corner of her room. It couldn’t have been the first time he’d seen it, but he acted like it was. He asked who was hugging her, and she told him that it was her dad. She could see the question on his face, how he hesitated to ask, how if she didn’t proceed on her own accord or changed the subject, he probably wouldn’t have fought her on it. Kagome didn’t have a problem talking about it, though. She’d come to terms with what had happened, and she trusted him more than enough to tell him the truth. About how her dad had gone missing when she was seven and found dead a week and a half later. Truthfully, she didn’t know the nitty gritty details of the incident, nor did she want to. She preferred that the last image she had of him in her head was the framed photo there on the shelf. Furthermore, she’d explained that that was why and how she’d learned her mom’s little habits of making sure she was home by checking for her shoes or her keys or little displacements of items in the kitchen or bathroom. And, it served as incentive for her to be a little less discreet about those indicators, while also not being obvious that she knew her mother’s secret, overprotective habits. It helped soothe her worries. This was also why she’d often walk her brother home from practice after school, or why she’d head to wherever necessary if her mom was working late to pick her brother up from his friends. Sota was only eleven, and the boy couldn’t hurt a fly if he tried. To spare her mom the ulcer, she played backup guardian to the twerp with minimal complaint.

When you tell someone a story like that, it’s reasonable to expect a bit of awkwardness to linger. Kagome was fully prepared to wave off the subject and give him the perfect setup to return to normal and call her dumb for not understanding the chemistry assignment she’d been given. It’s perfectly understandable for a person to not know how to respond to the subject, but Inuyasha was different. He was watching her almost the entire time she spoke; his eyes not drifting down or to the side in the air of discomfort. He was tense, but in a sympathetic way. And, when she shrugged and smiled at the end, concluding her explanation, Inuyasha shook his head and stroked her hair, apologizing for bringing it up in the first place.

Of course, she’d dismissed his apology. There was nothing to be sorry for. His hand had landed on her shoulder, his fingers threaded through her hair, and that was it. She remembered feeling hot in that moment, short of breath, lost and found in succession. That was the first time he’d touched her, and it was unbelievably tender.

Did he feel the same way towards her? Yeah, right. Kagome was on a one-way train to Painsville no matter what, and this was just the beginning if she didn’t get a grip. Sango liked to feed her hope, and Kagome would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate it. That didn’t give her any reason to be obvious with her stupid, crippling crush, though. Anytime she wanted to get close to him, maybe graze his hand in a way she could pull off as casual, or even flirt like she had on that very first day, Kagome froze. Having feelings for someone was terrifying. You’re vulnerable and susceptible to unbelievable amounts of humiliation, and while Kagome was bold with her words, she wasn’t quite the same with her actions. At least, not in regards to this field.

Guys were supposed to make the first move, anyway. Not girls. Not her. And until then, until Inuyasha miraculously sprung some feelings for her too, she would be moping face-down on her bed.

Inuyasha only made it to her house once in a two week span. He hated admitting it, but it was hard to stay away. Kagome didn’t ask when he’d be able to again, and a small part of him wished she would. It was this nagging twinge in his heart wanting to know if she’d even cared or wanted him there, but no. He didn’t bring it up and neither did she. Of all the times for her to mind her business, this was when she chose to. So, he caved. He asked if she still sucked and needed help, and it seemed like her face lit up, his nerves grasping at any little cue that could spark needless anticipation. As if he wanted anything more to fuck him over. The original objective was to spend less time with her, and cut the chord he’s disturbingly developed. The former he was succeeding with; the latter was a different story, which became evident to him when she didn’t show up to school one day.

Kagome never missed class.

He told himself she’d probably caught a cold, but it didn’t help any. Answers were easily attainable, but seeking them out was too conspicuous; Sango was too clever not to immediately figure out his motive, and he could see her having too much fun taunting him before giving up an answer. Getting Miroku to ask Sango would send Miroku spiraling into a wild panic attack on the floor. Texting Kagome and asking, himself, was just purely out of the fucking question for no good reason other than preserving what was left of his sanity.

Throughout the day, his worry increased. Fuck if he knew why. He figured if Sango was fairing fine without her, he should be too. Right? But, her best friend most likely knew the reason she was out. He didn’t. He didn’t like that he didn’t know, either. Inuyasha liked knowing things. Kagome was fairly open with him. He should have just texted her. Chances were probable that she would have answered without skepticism. If he had just sent the damn message, he wouldn’t have felt so stressed right now. Yet, here he was, tapping his nail against the surface of the desk in his bedroom, knee bobbing erratically, completely frustrated - with his irrational mood more than anything.

“I’m going out real quick. Be back in twenty.” Inuyasha announced, throwing his jacket over his shoulders at the door. His uncle gave him a small acknowledgment from the living room, the words as horse and wheezy-sounding as usual, and the half demon slipped out the door without another word.

Kagome bounced around the center of her bedroom, light on her toes, swaying to the intro music of her favorite show on TV while she scooped small spoonfuls of ice cream from the pint in her hand. A couple soft knocks had her stop, the taps sounding like they’d come from glass but her common sense saying that wasn’t possible. She waited to see if she’d hear it again, willing to dismiss the noise as a creak in her floor, but when it did happen, she turned toward her window, a chill shooting up her spine as she saw Inuyasha staring through. Her gasp was loud and high-pitched, but the swear she let out was murmured between other swears beneath her breath.

The hanyou gestured for her to open the window, perched on the small roofing available from the first story.

“What are you doing?” Kagome hissed after dropping her pint on her desk, opening the frame for him to come through.

“I forgot something here. I wanted it back.” Inuyasha stated, keeping his tone casual.

“You forgot something here? Four days ago? And, you decided now is a good time to come get it?” She crossed her arms over her chest, watching as he twirled around the room to look for his object.

“Yup.”

“It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Yup.”

“What did you even forget?”

“My,” He delayed for a second, thinking. He’d rehearsed this the entire way here, yet he still blanked on his excuse. “Pin. Must have fallen out of my pocket.”

“Really? I haven’t seen any pins.” She mentioned, doubtfully.

“Oh, there it is.” He pointed to the small, golden crown pin stuck in her cork board. “You even made a home for it, liar.”

“That’s because it’s mine.” There was something off about him. Nothing that tipped her concern, but strange was strange nonetheless. She cocked a brow, and her lips inadvertently curved upward in response to it all. Even as he leaned over her mattress and stole the pin right out of the cork board.

“Oh. Well, does it have any sentimental value to you?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll just keep it to replace my own then.” He twiddled it in his fingers, shrugging resolutely.

“You’re being weird.” She pointed, entertained. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you, I forgot something.”

“Except you didn’t.”

“Except I did, and you weren’t at school for me to ask for it back. So, I took it upon myself to come get it.” His tone was slightly rougher than usual, gruff, and not cooperating to conceal his main purpose in the least. Was he worried about her, or just courageous enough to sneak over in the dead of night? “Speaking of which, you don’t look sick.”

“I’m not.” She disputed, a little surprised. “Sota tripped during soccer practice last night and broke his ankle. I stayed home to watch him so mom didn’t have to take off work.”

“Oh, shit.” Inuyasha’s brows pinched together. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s fine for the most part. Until he learns to crutch his way upstairs, the living room is his new bedroom for the time being.”

“Need any help taking heavy things down for him?”

“Nah, we got the important things down there so he’s comfortable. Besides, mom may not appreciate us making a ton of noise with that right now. But, thank you.” Kagome softly raked her teeth over her bottom lip.

He gave a slow nod, feeling a little stupid, wishing he’d just had the guts to text her. Seeing her, though, was so much more satisfying. His eyes travelled over her, taking in her camisole and flannel pajama bottoms, her bare feet, her messy waves, her makeup-less skin, and the glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. How did she still look beautiful? It was time for him to go.

“Alright, gramps, go to sleep. It’s passed your bedtime.” Inuyasha said huskily, brushing her shoulder on his way back to the window.

“Oh, wait.” Kagome went over to her nightstand, pulling the only drawer open and rustling through the miscellaneous belongings until her fingers pinched a small, rubber top. Turning back to him, she took the crown pin from his hand, pushing the sharp end through the top of the chest pocket of his jacket and fastening it there with the rubber. “There. So you won’t lose it again.”

“I’m not keeping it there.” Inuyasha shook his head, unamused. Still, she giggled, perfectly happy with her little stunt, giving it a pat for good measure.

“By the way, I won’t be at school tomorrow, either. Just in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” He lied, slipping through the window frame.

“Just in case.”

“And, even if I was to begin with, is there any problem with me coming over to find out!?” There was the lick of defensiveness in his tone.

“Not really. Feel free to use the front door next time.” Kagome smiled.

“Yeah, because your mom would be so cool with me showing up this late at night.”

“Window’s fine, too.” She said, bobbing her head back and forth to agree with his point.

“Lock the hatch. And, get some better dance moves.” He said, though his small grin robbed his joke of all harshness. The half demon was light on his feet, easily scaling a nearby tree to reach the ground silently, walking through her front yard and disappearing passed the neighbor’s house.

It was comforting to know he cared. It was warming to think that he’d worried about her to the extent that he had to come see her. The joyful smile on Kagome’s face cramped her cheeks, her face hot and blustery as she shut the window.

—

He smelled the wretch before he’d even walked through the front gate, his chest clenching and abdomen going uncomfortably rigid. It was like anxiety instantaneously washed over him, making him angry, his fingers furling into fists, and his upper lip curling in a snarl. He was so fucking tempted to slam the gate shut and turn around to leave right then and there, but the scent of someone else along with their uninvited guest had his curiosity rising. To top it off, after all these years, Inuyasha wanted to know what the fuck this bastard could possibly want.

Upon entry, his stomach was almost in complete shambles. It was like he could physically feel his blood coursing rapidly through his veins, boiling, hot.

“Inuyasha, that you?” His adoptive uncle called, his elderly voice ringing from the living room. He didn’t answer. It was too fucking difficult to open his mouth without the threat of a fearsome growl coming out instead. “Come in here. I’m sure you’re aware that we have some visitors.”

The hanyou dropped his book bag in the entry hall, taking a deep breath that filled his tight chest as he moved his feet forward. Turning the corner, amber eyes immediately collided with matching amber before the opposing shifted away, utter disinterest marring his straight expression. His hair was nearly matching Inuyasha’s style, long and worn high, silver, straight, and making Inuyasha want to cut his length off entirely. Looking at him sitting there at the small table, the shape of his shoulders, his matured facial features, their numerous similarities, he realized how unforgivingly powerful their father’s genes were. He was glad, among all else, the big differentiation between the two of them were the ugly fucking facial birthmarks Inuyasha was spared.

“You’ve grown up, little brother.” Sesshomaru claimed in his monotonous voice. It was insane to notice that despite their separation, the asshole still hardly seemed to have changed.

“Yeah, that happens when you haven’t seen a person in eight years.” Came Inuyasha’s venom-laced reply. “What do you want?”

“Now, now, Inuyasha. Civility.” The old man said from the nearest end of the table.

“I come with news. I’ve already told Totosai, but he insisted I stay for dinner and tell you, as well.” Sesshomaru still wasn’t looking at him. It didn’t even seem like he was looking at his uncle. The arrogant bastard was looking through the old man; like they were beneath him.

Before Inuyasha’s relative further explained, small footsteps padded down the opposite end of the hall Inuyasha had just come from, walking toward them, humming softly and attracting one of his ears to twitch in their direction. He turned, seeing a small girl no more than five enter the room, large eyes looking up at him with curiosity and ample amounts of excited wonder. Her hair was messy, wavy, and a deep brown, long but half tied back to keep loose strands out of her face and at bay.

“Rin.” Inuyasha’s brother beckoned, and the little girl didn’t hesitate to follow the call, crossing the room to sit next to him. “I am getting married. This is my fiancé’s daughter, which I treat as my own. Though, I couldn’t care one way or the other, Kagura, my soon-to-be wife, finds it important I indulge you two in our happenings and introduce you to your niece.”

“Isn’t that nice, Inuyasha?” His uncle asked, his tone one that pushed for pleasantries from the hanyou.

“Yeah, sure. It’s nice that you’ve found someone to whip your ass into a family you won’t desert.”

“It’s hardly desertion if I had no responsibility to you.” Sesshomaru coldly replied, now looking through Inuyasha.

The little girl’s smile had faded, obviously picking up on the animosity in the room. He whole-heartedly pitied her for the guardian she’d been bequeathed. Sesshomaru was flaky and more emotionally constipated than Inuyasha could ever be accused of. Children deserved love and attention, and from his own experience, he just couldn’t see the plausibility that his brother could ever be capable of giving that to anyone. Then, as he focused on the innocent more intently, details became a little more clear.

“She’s,” He paused, a heavy disappointment sinking into his stomach. Betrayal began to crawl its way up his spine, through his muscles, into his throat to create weight in his words. His eyes flickered back to Sesshomaru’s. “She’s human?”

“Mostly.” He responded with a single nod, not a shred of guilt in his tone. His hand rose to land on the top of Rin’s head, softly stroking her hair. “Her biological father was such and she did not inherit much of her mother’s demonic traits. But, that is unimportant.”

“Unim- Like hell!” Inuyasha barked.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Inuyasha.”

That was all he had to say? For all the years of shit he’d put him through for the blood coursing through his veins that he had no control over, that was all he fucking had to say? Like, it was no sweat off his back. When he said it was unimportant, what he actually meant was “unimportant” had two different definitions here. In terms to Rin, it didn’t matter that she had human blood. In terms to Inuyasha, he didn’t matter.

“Go fuck yourself.” Inuyasha growled. Without missing another beat, he left the room, heading out the front door and slamming it shut on the way. Knowing the bastard, he had no intention to stay overnight, so he’d wait him out for as long as it took. Totosai would text him when the coast was clear, so until then, he’d walk it off. He’d get as far away as necessary until he didn’t smell either of the intruders anymore, until his justified anger was calmed, until Sesshomaru was long gone with his happy fucking family.

The sun had set, his feet carrying him to a part of town he often hung out in. One mostly populated with college students that drank coffee late at night for fun while hanging in The Square below strung lights. Hardly anyone was out at the moment. Anyone he knew, at least. He was thankful for that; the last thing he wanted was to socialize. It was unintentional that he’d come this way to begin with, he just needed ample amounts of air that still weren’t helping to quell his surging frustration. He was safe to go home; he’d received the green light already, but the fact that his breathing was still ragged, and his chest still felt heavy, and his nose crinkled with disgust every time he thought back to that brief conversation told him he was better off staying out.

With a dragged inhale, Inuyasha took in a lungful of Kagome’s scent, feeling a minute percentage of his stiffness falter. He thought he’d imagined it, but the further he walked, the more powerful she became. He looked over the surrounding area, trying to pinpoint her when she appeared from an upcoming corner, aggressively locking her phone and shoving it in the front pocket of her pullover hoody. As if she’d sensed someone coming - or heard his footsteps approaching, which was the more feasible option here - she glanced his way, her lips parting slightly as she focused on him.

“Oh, hey.” She smiled softly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He couldn’t even bring himself to return anything half as welcoming as she’d mustered, his nerves still on edge and his agitation still roaring. “What are you doing out here?”

Kagome sensed his rigidness and noticed the way his ember eyes swept left and right over her head, landing on her momentarily only to do the same sweeping motion. His hands were tucked in his charcoal pant pockets, and he still donned his school uniform telling her that he hadn’t even been home. He seemed upset, but thankfully there wasn’t any visible evidence of fighting to serve as the purpose. For the moment, she brushed it off. She could be wrong, and if she jumped the gun and started prying too soon, she’d only make him mad. “Well, my friend, Ayumi, is going out with this guy for the first time. She wanted me to hang back and spy to make sure everything went smoothly, and if she gave me signals, I’d move in and give some lame excuse to end the date. But, she gave me the wrong address for their meetup spot, which is nowhere near here, so she’s on her own now.”

“This isn’t a safe part of town for girls to be alone. Go home.” Inuyasha ordered. She was sure he didn’t mean for the ice in his tone, but it was there. It was disconcerting.

“I - I was heading home.”

“Good. Head down the block and make a right at the crosswalk, and you’ll be on a straight path to - no, fuck it, I’ll just walk you.” He stepped to the side so their shoulders wouldn’t brush as he passed her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Wait, are you okay?” The question was properly warranted now. It was clear that he wasn’t. Far from it, she presumed.

“Fine.”

“No, you’re not. Stop for a second.” Kagome sped to catch up to him, walking at his side with bared hands. He did as she said, irritation evident in his eyes as he looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It wasn’t believable in the least. There was no conviction in his voice, the word coming out forced and gruff. “Can we go?”

“No. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Kagome. I want to fucking get you home.”

She wrapped her fingers around his exposed forearm just as he began to continue walking, halting him mid-stride, his skin heated. If he didn’t want to talk, fine, but she didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of him being alone after dropping her at her doorstep. Most importantly, she could tell by his heightening levels of aggravation that being in the public’s eye wasn’t the best option for him. She knew if she were emotional, on the brink of losing her temper, and under the pressure of onlookers, her anxiety would spike and she’d end up in a preventably-critical state. So, she gave him a tug in the direction of the park.

“What are you -“

“Just come on. Trust me.”

Surprisingly, he hardly resisted. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull his arm from her hold, allowing her to guide him through the trees and along the cemented path, around the empty play area for kids and toward the large pond. Not a person was in sight to disturb their time. As far as she was concerned, Inuyasha was free to let it out. They stopped at the edge of the water’s barrier where she finally released him, the fingers of her right hand dragging down his skin to drop at the hem of his pocket.

“Something’s clearly wrong, so don’t lie to me about that. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but the option’s there. I’ll listen. If you’d prefer, I won’t even say a word while you tell me; I’ll stay completely quiet. But, if you’re not comfortable talking about it, I’ll just stay with you until you feel better.”

“I don’t need you to babysit me.” Inuyasha sneered, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not babysitting. It’s company. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

He knew she wasn’t going to give in. The girl was fucking stubborn and relentless. The trouble was, he didn’t have a good enough excuse to not open up at the moment. Her presence was already helping his tension levels decrease, and his brain was muddled enough not to fight anything more than he already had to.

“Don’t talk.” He grumbled, giving in. Kagome gave a nod of understanding, watching him walk passed her to pick some twigs off the ground, breaking them apart and tossing small pieces into the pond. “My half brother decided to pay me a visit. We’ve got a shit relationship. Always have. We’ve got the same dad, but different moms, and his is demon so that makes him full-blooded and better than me by default. When our dad died, our moms still attempted to help us establish this brotherly bond, but there’s a considerable age gap between the two of us so it was a struggle. Man, I still remember the first fucking time he said he never considered me his brother.” Inuyasha chuckled cynically. “I was, like, seven or something. He calls me ‘half demon’ like it’s disgusting. He looks down on me. I’m pretty sure he blamed my mom and I for dad’s death at one point. And then when he hit eighteen, the fucker was gone. Mom got sick and died when I was thirteen, and the only blood relative I had left was him, but where the fuck was he? I was in the system for half a year before my dad’s old friend showed up and took me in. Haven’t seen my brother in almost a decade, and he just waltzes in today like it’s an ordinary Friday playdate. Tells me he’s getting married to a woman with a daughter whom he considers his own now. And the kicker is, she’s mostly human. The kid’s mostly human!” The laugh that time was laced with his concealed pain, and Kagome’s heart was dropping, sinking, weighted with the grief he tried to swallow. “What’s even better is he hasn’t changed or anything. He didn’t come around to make amends, he doesn’t look at me any differently. Fuck, he doesn’t even look at me! I’m still this low-life half demon to him, and he’s still a piece of shit. The kid - it’s not her fault. I know that. But, for some reason, I can’t help but hate her, too.”

Because she’s getting everything he was robbed of. Inuyasha was an orphan. He’s had it so hard. Where he should have had familial ties and support, he had prejudice and heartbreak and scar tissue. He was left alone only to have it rubbed in his face.

Even if she was allowed to talk right now, what could Kagome possibly say to make him feel better? She didn’t understand the half of what he felt, and pretending like she did could potentially only serve as salt in the wound. He didn’t deserve that. She’d promised she wouldn’t speak, but allowing him to roost in the pain he felt, undisturbed, wasn’t okay with her. She wanted, among all things, to comfort Inuyasha. As he swung his last stick into the pond, Kagome stepped forward, gently grabbing his arm so he’d turn her way.

Years. It had been so many fucking years since anyone had hugged him. Kagome walked into him slowly, almost cautiously, her hands sliding from his waist to his back, holding him so securely as she tucked her face into his chest and pressed her body firmly against him. It was almost like he didn’t know how to respond to the gesture anymore, his muscles stiffening, his arms hanging at his sides. He felt her fingers clutch the back of his shirt, bunching the cloth, her breaths so deep and calming that they inadvertently began to guide his own. Three years since anyone had touched him so affectionately. He’d had his rendezvous, he’d kissed, he’d lost his virginity, but none of it meant anything. It was empty. To him, and even the girls on the other end of it, it was a way to kill time, none of them knowing how to fill the void inside. There was no touching outside of hookups. There was no security. There was no emotion.

Yet, with a single hug, something he hadn’t experienced in so damn long, Kagome had successfully breached every one of his defenses in the most peaceful of manners.

Inuyasha’s shoulders gradually lowered, his chest aching, his fear rising, his arms wrapping around her body - not quite holding but not quite hovering. He suddenly realized how much he trusted her, and he detested it. Trust could be broken. Bonds were indefinite. People leave on a whim. They could get into accidents and leave their families behind, they could be careless and get themselves murdered, they could get sick and die, or they could just decide they’d had enough of you and disappear. Relationships, in any variation, would always be seen as fragile and pitiful and pending for disaster to him. There was no stability. The farther he kept himself from all of which, the less disappointment the future carried.

He felt a numbness expand over him, dulling all sensations as his decision solidified. Kagome couldn’t matter to him anymore. Sesshomaru’s little visit helped magnify Inuyasha’s reasonings for always keeping people at a distance. He wasn’t going to go through it again. He was stupid for allowing it to have gone as far as it had.

“You should get home.” He said, gently pushing her away from him. “It’s getting late.”

| 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

#inuyasha #kagome #Kagome higurashi #inukag #miroku #sango #mirsan #Inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #high school au #coming of age #delicate #my writing #akitokihojo #:))))))))))))

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groovycatcollector · 4 years

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The Wonderfully Right, And The Horribly Wrong (Daryl Dixon Love story)

Summery: After losing her brother and his wife, one young woman is left on her own, caring for a new born and trying to survive. After being taken in to a community after years of mistrust, how will she adapt, and what effect will a certain archer have on her. Starts the last episode of season5

Warnings: slowish-burn, angst, eventual fluff, violence, strong language. ptsd, Age gap

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x OFC

@buckysjuicyplums ;)

Chapter 3

Now my blood was boiling. Thoughs stupid motherfucking sheltered ass bitches making me feel like shit. I decided I would be useful and help Carol with the goddanmed inventory with the other women and fuck me I’m never doing that shit again. They started asking me all types of shit that is none of their fucking business. I storming back to the house, my mind gone foggy with rage, and this stupid sun certainly wasn’t helping with my coherence. I had barely noticed that I had nearly knocked that asshole Daryl to the floor.

He had become somewhat confusing over the last few days. First he brought me some clothes for the boy, then that same night I heard him arguing with Carol that they should kick me out, stupid fuck. “Watch it” He growled, grabbing my arm. I looked up at him, my fists clenched ready to fight. I shook my arm free and turned to face him, I didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t find any words. I looked up at him, looking at his heavy brow and thin lips, trying to find one crack of a threat. We stayed glaring at each other until I felt the pure red fury build up in my throat, snarling my nose and making me run. I ran into the house and made a Bee line for the bathroom.

I couldn’t get they’re words out of my head, I sat in the bath, rocking him back and forth “He looks small for 6 months” They’re words were echoing in my head “Do you talk to him much? You really should, it’ll help his skills” Who the fuck do they think they are? They got to raise their kids where it was safe “What do you mean you haven’t done tummy time with him?” It’s not like we were in a place I could focus on the domestics of the child “Ya know a sense of security is really important for the first three years” My throat got tight and I couldn’t stop the tears “Are you not scared he won’t develop like he should?” God why am I even trying with this kid, all the air left my lungs as I gasped, trying to breath. I’m rocking more now, not sure if it’s more for the baby or me. I rested him on my knees and looked at him, while he grabbed my hair, playing. I know I’m gonna fail him, I’m gonna let him down eventually but was just reminded that I already have. I’ve no idea how long I stayed there trembling thinking about how ill prepared I am to look after him, but the knock on the door broke my train of thought, making me wipe my eyes

“Hey, Nina, you okay in there? Daryl said you seemed upset” Maggie, Carl introduced us a few days ago, a0nd she seemed to be the closest to my age. “Yeah I’m good” I called back with my now starchy voice, torn whether or not I wanted to see her, we did get on, but I’m not sure if I wanted to explain. I could hear her clear her throat “Do you want to talk about it?” She sounded uncomfortable, but not noisy, might as well, I’ll be gone in a few weeks. I climbed out of the bath and gently unlocked the door. She opened it with a furrowed brow. “C’mon” She walked and I followed meekly

She swapped the cup of water for the baby and handed it to Glenn, who said he was gonna take him for a walk. I for once didn’t say anything, and he was probably better off being away from me right now, with my head feeling so foggy. “So” she said sitting next to me on the couch “What happened?” I opened my mouth to speak but nothing was coming out. I took a gulp of the water while trying to think. What did happen? “I just…” I began “I just don’t know what I’m doing, and I suppose the moms down doing the inventory reminded me of that” Maggie looked at me and her eyes softened. “So this is about your kid?” I stayed silent, I’m not even sure what the blow out was about, once again having no idea how to even process this I told her everything, or nearly everything; from my brother, to the first few days, to the gangs trying to abduct us. She kept her hand on mine the entire time and just listened.

“Sorry, I think I just needed to get it off my chest” I said, whipping a tear away. “You’re okay” She paused, when I looked up she was examining my face “Nina, you were on your own, trying to mind a kid and keep yourself alive. But now you have people who want to help” Maggie took a deep breath before looking back up at me “And people want to help, and you need to learn to exept help when its offered, I can already tell you’re a danmed stubborn woman” I cocked an eyebrow at her“well I suppose you have to be too stubborn to die” I chuckled at that and she smiled back, her eye getting bright. “Thank you Maggie, I suppose it’s just hard adjusting to everything.”

I stood up from the couch, brushing my pants off “Ya know I think I need a job” I joked “I mean look at these clothes, no colour at all, I look like an emo” I gestured to my black camo pants and tank top. She giggled a bit “I think a few people are going on a run soon if you want to go, could try find clothes or baby stuff for the kid” She stands too, and I walk towards the sink to clean out my glass.

“What do you miss the most ?” I asked her drying the glass with a table cloth. She hummed and leaned agents the island “I would say chocolate, like Maltesers” I sighed, suddenly remembering how much I missed chocolate” Danm that’s a good one” I turned and put the glass back on the shelf. “I think I might just miss Ms Dolly Rebecca Parton the most” She let out a cackle “Dolly Parton?” She used her arms to give her leverage on the counter top. “I would not have pegged you as a Parton girl” I scoffed, fake offended and crossed my arms “I will have you know I was born and bred a Dolly girl” Just as I burst into a fit of laughs Glenn walked back in with the baby.

He smiled in hello and I put my arms out to take the baby.“Hey they’re having a meeting at Deannas house about the horde” Maggie nodded at him and turned to me “Are you coming ? You don’t have to if you feel like you need to rest more” I stopped and thought. I could try do some good before I left, try clear this horde and leave a little good behind.

Part one Part two Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten Part eleven

#daryl dixon #daryl fic #daryl Dixon fic #Daryl Dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfic #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfic #twd fic #twd fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x oc #daryl x ofc #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x ofc

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lake-valentine · 6 years

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no more ‘almosts’ | valentinely

{ continued from this [x] chat }

mouse--quinley‌:

[He shakes his head, laughing along with Lake, at himself, and touches his fingers to the spot lightly. Of course he’s gonna be hit-and-miss with all of this, but he’s still gonna try things when he feels like it—plus, he’s usually a quick learner, and Lake seems totally up for being his guinea pig, which is encouraging.]

[He arches an eyebrow in silent questioning, as clearly Lake’s gotten an idea. He doesn’t share it with Mouse, though, leaving him to watch curiously when he holds out a hand towards the washing machine by the door. When he realizes what Lake’s trying, it’s— he gapes a little. But he’s never seen Lake actually use his telekinesis outside of when he’s been really upset. He knows it’s not easy for him. At all.]

[When the washing machine proves too much, Mouse is about to reassure him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t need to do this— and he’s a little concerned, honestly. But Lake swears, once, and focuses on a new target. Mouse is mostly looking at Lake’s face, at the effort of it, but the shelf moves and he’s caught between staring at him, and watching a whole bloody shelf push over to stop in front of the door. Mouse isn’t sure he’d be able to move it with his whole weight— and yet here Lake is just— and all to get them one shred of privacy. It’s… incredible, and sweet, and like… insanely hot at the same time.]

[He’s gone still, hands resting on Lake’s chest.] H–Hi? [He manages, weakly, his voice higher-pitched and breathy.] Convenient is right. Holy shit, you just—that was so fuckin’ hot—

[It’s too late to find words, and besides, Lake has other plans. Now that they’re actually completely alone—just for however long it takes them to be discovered and for someone to make them move the shelf again, but fuck it, it’s still amazing. They’re alone. Mouse doesn’t argue, just reaches behind his neck, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Then, he feels something completely unexpected. Ends up with his shirt tangling his elbows, as he lowers his arms in front of him, suddenly… nervous. Self-conscious?]

[Which is complete bullshit, and he’s confused by even feeling it. A year of full meals and actual training, he’s not as skeletal as he had been after his time at the farm, where food was always rationed and Mouse ate only what he’d absolutely needed to. Besides— Lake clearly likes him? And Lake’s seen the scar on his chest, knows even how he got it… Mouse isn’t shy mostly ‘cause he doesn’t think about how his body looks, only whether it can do what he wants at any given time. It’s a tool to him, usually. 'Cept he isn’t exactly delicate with it. The bruises that asshole Axel left on his shoulder are nearly invisible, but there are others from training. And a few more scars, less noticeable, both from after D-Day and before. He usually doesn’t care. Except right now, he… does. He won’t ask, obviously, but he has to wonder what Lake thinks of this… this body he’s inconsiderate of, and too rough on, and the marks it carries from so many bad decisions and even worse luck…]

[It only lasts a second though, 'cause now Lake— Lake, no shirt.] Jesus, fuck. [He claps a hand over his mouth, reflexively. He really hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But he’s looking at Lake and remembering actual fantasies fuelled by just those goddamn shoulders— and also his arms— and it’s a— it’s a lot. Right in front of him. He lowers his hand, and forces his eyes back… up… to Lake’s. They take more than a few detours along the way.] I mean. [Clears his throat.] Mm—yep. It’s fine. I’m good.

Lake had started out kind of one-directional when it came to sex (though he should probably disclaim that it is in no way a reference to a cheesy boyband from the 21st century). And actually, not just sex, but like anything remotely RELATED to sex. Kissing, flirting, running his mouth and fumbling like a baboon because a certain black haired (before he’d run out of hair-dye) emo-asshole with a tongue ring, had made him feel even more uncoordinated and awkward and geekish than he already did. And he DID already feel all those things, to a pretty, like, intense degree. And SOME people, hint-hint, just made it a heck of a lot worse.

But yeah, he’d always been a complete mess. A basket case with an energizer battery pack. He just kept going and going and going even when he should have stopped, like, five miles back, before he accidentally insulted everybody and their grandmother and tried to look sexy and confident but wound up with apple juice all down the front of his Batman T-shirt.

Basically, the fumbling and emotionally imbalanced virgin was all he’d been for so, SO long.

And with Ryder, leaning into that role had worked. In fact, Ryder had eaten it up. Had loved Lake’s charming nervousness and had apparently found it attractive. Probably because he liked control and it was easy to take control of Lake. And Lake was pretty sure he NEEDED that at the time. Needed to have his first time with the big ‘home-run’ be with someone who could take the reins and lead the way, because, like, Lake even on his good days, had too many emotions and over-stimulating thoughts to know how to navigate. He could hardly take control of himself, much less anyone else.

Slowly though, things began to change. And it was funny, because if you’d asked him along the way, he probably would have laughed in your face and maybe gotten a little mad, too. Because he wanted nothing more than to be able to stop being that immature, talkative freak who got even more embarrassing when he talked to pretty girls in low cut tops. To be taken seriously for once, to maybe make a fool of himself LESS times a day than he did. Even if he just got it down to a COUPLE times a day, he’d have been happy. So, if you had told him back then that he WAS changing, he would have resented it, because he didn’t feel like he was. Everything was going so slow and it was all so frustrating and he seemed to just be making the same mistakes over and over and over again.

But he knew now, that things HAD been changing. And at some point, he was able to look back over these past couple of years and see the differences. And at some point, even with Ryder, he’d started acting different. More confident, more sure of himself and what he wanted, and less afraid to speak his mind when it REALLY mattered. Not when he just couldn’t HELP it because he was having another case of verbal diarrhoea, but because his opinion mattered, and standing up for himself MATTERED, even when he was terrified of being rejected, or of losing people who mattered to him who might not agree.

But taking a bit of control back, being more sure of himself, as it turned out, didn’t push Ryder away at all. Didn’t turn him off, or make him want to be around Lake less. It brought them closer. And if anything... it made their, uh, sexy times, even sexier. Because Lake was still finding new ways to surprise Ryder and lately, Lake was getting a little addicted to surprising his friends. To that feeling of people being like... wow, okay, so you ARE an almost-grown up, now. Big kid pants and everything. No need for those cartoon bandaids anymore, (even though Lake will always pick comic book bandaids over plain ones, because, like, come ON, they’re just way more fun???)

So... anyway. Fast forward like, a million months, (but still back a bunch from where they are now), and things had always been a little different with Mouse. Even in the beginning. Like, at first, Lake was just as afraid of not being liked by the Torren as he was with pretty much everyone. And he’d looked up to him a lot and so he’d... been wary of saying anything with confidence. It was reflex to be the more passive person in a situation.

But he wasn’t sure what it was about his friendship with Mouse—maybe it was more about the TIMING of it than it was about Mouse himself—but Lake had actually found himself in a position time and time again where he had to speak out, a bit. Stand up for himself. They’d fought even, a couple of times. Or, well, just the once in like, a really bad way, but they’d definitely had conflict before that. And... of course there was also the whole making out in the dorm room after an episode thing... when Mouse had started in a position of power but Lake had very quickly taken control in a way that surprised even him. And it had definitely surprised Mouse.

As it turned out... his sexuality was nothing like he’d thought it’d be, when he was like, 16 and could hardly look at a lingerie commercial without jizzing his pants. Apparently puberty was still doing its thing in his teenage years. Who knew.

And now, at 20 (Darn-Tootin’ he’s STILL not used to that), and NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE (just a guy who can count on one hand how many times he’s actually had sex), he is still finding himself and still changing and like... yup. Change feels good. THIS feels good. Seeing that goofy grin on Mouse’s face when he takes off his shirt, hearing him call him ‘fuckin’ hot’ after his little stunt with his Telekinesis.... it felt GOOD, damn it. He liked that with Mouse, LAKE was actually the one with a little more experience, a little more confidence. He so rarely got to BE that, and the funny thing was, Mouse was like... well, he was MOUSE. He was the leader of the lost boys, he was always in control, he always knew what he was doing and bossed people around a lot. Lake knew, because he’d seen it, (and he’d thought it was hot, too).

But when it came to THEM, well. Lake got to see sides of Mouse that he was pretty sure Mouse didn’t like to show often. Or to anyone else. And it was... kind of exciting? Knowing he, like, had an influence over Mouse that evened the playing field a bit. So they were BOTH kind of insecure idiots who knew nothing about anything but pretended like they did.

He had a feeling, too, that like... yeah, there was no stopping this freight train. Because, like, they’d BEEN in this like, heated, I-don’t-wanna-stop-you-gotta-stop-me mood before. They’d made out before and had fun before but it’d always been... bad timing, or like, IN PUBLIC or like, invading a dorm room other people wanted to get back INTO or... or there was the issue of Ryder.

But now it was different. Now Ryder KNEW and Lake felt so FREE for the first time in a long time, and holy CRAP BALLS was he uh... what’s the non-trashy word for Horny? And not Aroused, because that sounded like a bad Harlequin or something. But let’s just say his libido was OFF THE DAMN CHARTS because he’d had so many ALMOSTS with this nerd, and they’d ALWAYS resisted. Stopped themselves. Like good boys.

But now he didn’t have to be a good boy. And he very, VERY much wanted to know what not-being-a-good-boy with Mouse looked like.

He was so into it, in fact, that he hardly even had the brain power to make jokes anymore. As much as he wanted to tease Mouse about his current state of boyish infatuation with Shirtless Lake, he couldn’t, because his tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his vision was foggy and he just WANTED.

And Mouse was... equally as shirtless. Muscle over bone and fair, freckled skin and Lake’s mouth was watering. And something in his pants was.... doing something else.

So his hands were all over Mouse again as soon as he’d done away with his shirt. Trailing up a toned abdomen, humming at the feel of the heat coming off Mouse’s stomach. Wrapping his hands around Mouse’s hips and waist and pulling him close again. Getting back that feeling of being flush against his groin and HOLY WOW that was, uh, NICE. Nice and hot and Lake’s mouth had moved down from Mouse’s in favour of taking his own turn on the Torren’s neck, sucking purple marks into it and feeling Mouse’s gasps against his tongue and pressing closer—God, please just a LITTLE closer, because he could feel Mouse’s heat through his trousers and Lake could taste him, but he wanted to be tasting more of him, wanted to hear him whimper the way Lake knew he’d done before, wanted to know what it would be like to feel Mouse shiver if he wrapped his hand around—

“Fuck.” It was muttered against Mouse’s lips, mid-kiss, mid-roll of his hips. Ugh, and he WANTED him. He did. He wanted a lot of things. But he didn’t know how far Mouse was willing to go and he didn’t know how far HE was willing to go, either. Like this. In the laundry room. Rushed and zealous and greedy.

But he was definitely getting FREAKING tired of stopping just before the good part, every DAMN time.

#no more almosts #p: mouse #p: no more almosts #okay so i pasted in your last reply bc otherwise it wouldn't be on my blog and i thought this made it clearer that they're connected?#hope that's okay!#sorry about the confusing formatting everyone but this is now a paraaaa

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virryth · 6 years

Text

Classmate!AU Jun

before we start can I disclaimer: this went on for longer than expected;; also it’ll be a little more emo than the rest of the classmate!au bc i got emo lol

1874 | Bullet | Fluff

where weak-hearted Jun signed up for a horror film class on a dare but you signed up to nap

Analysis of Modern Horror Films is the easiest class for anyone who wants to knock out the required cultural credit

It’s 6 hours once a week, and class lecture consists of watching one movie and a short analysis at the end of class wow it’s literally The Easiest class for nappers and busy non-liberal art kids who just want an easy A

And that’s why you’re here, your pre-med major literally sucks the life out of you and this is the perfect time slot to take a quick nap in the back corner

Except.. it’s not that easy

The dark and cold auditorium is the perfect environment, yes, but the sound system works a bit too well, and even though you’re a heavy sleeper it sometime gets too loud you wake up 20 minutes into a nap and couldn’t go back to sleep

On such a day you usually just sit and watch the movie since there’s not enough light for you to crack open your books and study

That day “The Conjuring” was shown, and you didn’t think this movie was super scary the first time you watched it but the guy sitting 2 seats from you certainly did

For the whole ten minutes where there was silence building up to the jump scare, the guy had his hands over his eyes and both of his legs pulled towards his body

The hood of his hoodie all the way stringed up so only his nose and eyes were visible

Also it’s kind of strange because you’ve never seen anyone all the way up at the top where you sit, it’s usually just you and another (probably premed) kid napping away the hours

Anyway, you watched the guy for the whole ten or so minutes and it’s super amusing bc he flinches at every single little noise but kept watching it through the gaps between his fingers

You got curious so you move to sit next to him and you wait for the jump scare and then you just.. poke his arm when the jump scare happens

I kid you not the guy jumped so high up in his seat and, since his legs were already drawn up, almost tumbled and fell over

But you caught his shoulders like a ninja right before he fell so you technically saved him from hitting his head on the seat in front

Even though it was because of you that he fell over

The guy turns and looks at you in horror

“sorry sorry I just wanted to scare you a bit,” you mumbled an apology between quiet breaths of laughter, both surprised and impressed that he didn’t scream

But the guy, instead of getting mad, clutched your hands and in a low, shaky voice asked if you could hold his hands until the movie finishes

And you’re still laughing, but a bit taken back

Usually you find skinship bothersome, but today.. you feel kinda bad for scaring the poor guy so you agree

For another hour you sit in darkness as the boy duck his head and occasionally squeezes your hand so tight you were sure there would be marks (and there were)

At the end of class the light goes back on and as usual the professor told the class to write a reflection and turn it in at the back door

Now, this is when you expect him to let go of your hand because the movie is over and, well, you have a reflection to write

Not that you need your right hand since you’re left-handed

But you’re also not gonna play bff and stay for the aftermath to comfort him

“J-just a few more minutes,” he takes a deep breath and swallows, “please.”

Now that the lights are on and you can see his face, he’s pretty cute

aNYWay you’re not kind enough to lend a shoulder to a total stranger but he honestly looked so shaken up he might pass out if he tries to stand up

So.. you think of it like helping a small animal

“I’m Jun, by the way. What’s your name?”

Honestly there really was no need for introduction as you were sure you’d never sit here again, but you conceded, partly to calm him bc you can feel the shakiness in his voice

Then Jun apologizes, something like this is the first time you’ve meet and he looks like a total loser

But you shake your head like no no it’s fine lol

And you catch a glimpse of the quick relief that spread across his face. Wow this guy is really good looking–

“Why do you take the class if you can’t stand horror films?” You managed to ask before the blood rushes to your face

At this he seems to hesitate, clearing his throat as he regains his composure

“I did it on a dare.”

“Just go ahead and laugh,” Jun broke into laughter as you epically failed to hide yours

He signed up for 6 hours a week of something he hates.. bc of a dare

Is he stupid or is he stupid–

“Sorry, I just.. it’s not everyday you meet someone signing up for a class they absolutely hate on a dare. Have you attended every lecture until now?”

Jun nodded a yes and you starts feeling some sort of respect for his bravery

He said something along the line of bringing ear plugs and secretly listening to music during class but to no avail, he always ends up covering his face with muffled scream because nothing had worked until today when he held your hand

This entire time you’re talking to the guy his hand still clutches to yours, and for the first time you feel slightly bashful about that huge small fact

As the both of you finishes the reflection, you said goodbye and left first since you have another class right after this

But Jun just looks at you after you left like you’re the most peculiar human he’s ever seen

“First of all, she didn’t know who I was”

Chan looks at Jun in disbelief, his mouth stops chewing the fish cake he was having for lunch

“What do you mean?? She doesn’t know Wen Junhui astrophysics and dance double major president of the school’s track team?”

“Isn’t that better?” Jihoon chimed in, taking a sip of his dark black coffee, “a clean slate. You hate people who only only sees you for your looks anyway.”

“I don’t hate them,” Jun clarified. It’s just that he finds it hard to connect with someone on an emotional level when all they care about is his outer appearance and reputation

But Jihoon’s words gave him something to think about

So the next time he saw you in class, you were in a different corner than where you usually were, so he went over and sit himself next to you and try to strike conversation

And at first you’re like.. who are you again?—ok just joking, but seriously why are we talking again lol

But he keeps trying every time to talk to you that eventually you just gave up

Talking and being next to you makes Jun feel a bit calmer in horror film class

Even though he still jumps every now and then, and you still scare him every now and then for your own amusement

Jun doesn’t mind it though, he loves interacting with you

Your personality is quite similar to his friend Jihoon— straightforward, a bit shy and silly, extremely unbothered sometimes but can be warm and engaging once your attention is focused on something or someone

And once that someone is Jun you give him your full attention because you’ve never met someone that responds to you with so much warmth

Even when he receives full attention anyway from the stares of girls and guys alike, nothing makes him feel as important and appreciated when it’s you

Sometimes he lay awake at night, unable to fall asleep, but when he does he’d wake up in the middle of the night and his thoughts would wander to you

Jun didn’t realize he was falling for you until one afternoon at a coffee shop, when Jihoon had played him a demo of a self-composed track, Run To You, and at that moment Jun had never wanted to see anyone else so badly

And as you’re walking to your last class at 2pm in the hot afternoon, in the distance you see Jun

He’s running towards you and jumping over fences and side-stepping so many people

He’s running so fast he almost tripped over a pot of plant around the corner and you gasped because be careful!!

And he makes you laugh again and again, like that time he was drinking water and a scary scene jumps out so he choked and coughed for a good ten minutes he almost had to leave class for making so much noise

Or that time you study together for a midterm and the both of you fell asleep against a bookshelf in the library but stupid Jun’s Attack on Titan alarm went off so loUD you woke up and bumped heads against the shelf

And a few books fell down but Jun shielded you so he got hurt instead, yet he was still smiling and laughing like an idiot

the many times he unintentionally did something either dumb or cute, he makes you laugh, and you were sure you’d never laugh so much if not for Jun

Jun stops in front of you to catch his breath, eyes never once left yours

For the first time he wasn’t smiling when meeting you, instead there was something desperate in his eyes

And in yours, too, perhaps, because in that moment you had realized how much he meant to you

“I have something to say,” he started between sharp takes of breath, “even if this doesn’t reach you, I—”

You don’t say anything to that, instead you pull his collar and kiss him

Jun is like!!! he can’t believe

But he reciprocated and you two kiss for a long time dndrjkgjfkd

In the middle of the courtyard

With everyone staring

And from that day on you two are known as the campus power couple

You bring each other coffee and have lunch date with talks over quantum fields theory and the expansion of stars it’s cute [and informative] bc it’s mostly Jun talking and you smiling

And he’s smiling at you and you’re just there like “Jun please we’re already dating stop giving me heart eyes”

But he can’t stop bc you’re adorable and you rarely initiate skinship with him in public but when you initiate to hold hands his heart leaped and he’s the happiest man in the world

And he’s one of the types that will interrupt you mid-sentence to kiss you and snuggle into your neck and you have to tell him to stop bc you keep losing your train of thoughts

“No I’m listening I’m just not mentally here hehe you’re so cute”

Minghao joked that seeing you two is like seeing Jun date Jihoon bc you’re both so similar

And Jihoon is like gross but he’s nodding at you from across the table in mutual respect

“Jun you have cool friends”

“I do. wait just my friends am I not cool?”

“no”

“?!?!?!? D:::”

“just kidding ilu”

“;DDDD <3333”</li>

#ughhh i love jun so much #protect the baby #svt au #seventeen au #sfw #jun #jun au #jun scenarios #jun imagines #classmate!au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen jun #virryth #Junhui #Junhui fluff #Junhui fic #jun fic #jun fluff

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