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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 7 months

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good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them.

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel.

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color.

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays.

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

#i looked back at your trope tier list for this 👀#damn was that tag game useful or what?#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates #st #stranger things #eddie munson x steve harrington #steveddie #eddeve #noelle writes

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lebbys-world · 1 month

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I was wondering if request based of the manga base on chapters 365 -406 like you know how bakugou is currently severely injured in manga /anime instead of bakugou almost dying it’s the reader who takes all the hits blow for him when fighting shigaraki crushing reader arm and taking major brutal blow to chest to protect bakugou and since reader she cares about him aslo maybe reader quirk could be like somewhat similar to scarlet witch mcu or raven from teen titans but whichever you prefer maybe when fighting Shigaraki since reader was using her quirk to full strength potential maybe her powers it started corrupted her due over usage making Shigaraki have the upper hand i hope this makes sense can the ending have fluff and angst type fic if this ok i hope this requests is ok makes sense if uncomfortable with i can definitely change it

To Be a Hero

Bakugo x gn!reader; mentions of injury, battle, self-sacrifice, self-deprecation/insecurities, end of the war arc, angst to comfort

notes: thank you sm for the request, and thanks sm for your patience !! everything has been crazy rn for me because of college. i love bakugos character sm, especially just his development, so i hope this does him a bit of justice.

You’d never felt the world sting so harshly before.

The very air around you tore at your skin, debris scattered around, making quick lacerations.

You’d come into this battle no more than an ambitious child, striving to save those you could.

But now?

You’d seen more blood than you’d ever thought you would.

The smell of death was burned into your very existence.

It made you nauseous.

You just wanted this all to be over.

Yet, here you stood, center of the battlefield, watching as Shigaraki tore to pieces the life you once loved.

For the first time in years, you didn’t feel like a hero.

Your body stood frozen, watching as those around you fought with everything they had.

Why can’t I help them? You beg of yourself.

Those you love are risking their lives- losing their lives.

But your body has had enough.

Too much has poured out from every aching wound on your body.

Your head pounds, both reminding you of the physical pain and your mental inability to process the situation at hand.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be a hero, after all.

Above, an array of light drew your eyes.

You see Bakugo, battered, bloodied- the damn bastard barely even able to stand.

He’s flying through the air, putting himself straight in the middle of the action.

He was always that way.

You admired that about him- his sense of selflessness when it really mattered.

He wanted to be the best, and he sure had a chance at it.

Yet, you realize what’s happening before you even can properly see it.

He’s diving in, head-first, straight towards the same Shigaraki that killed so many of the Pro-Heros.

He may want to be the best, but he isn't the best yet.

That same selflessness you loved was the selflessness that was going to get him killed.

He wasn’t going to land the shot.

You lurched off the ground, your feet moving without you even telling them to.

You positioned yourself perfectly, feeling the impact hit you like a warm embrace.

You smile to yourself:

Now, they’ve got another chance.

The world spun for a moment, as your hearing dulled.

That crash onto the ground must’ve really taken a toll on you.

Either that, or, maybe the gaping hole in your chest.

You gaze into the blurry sky, letting the gray clouds turn black in your vision.

From a distance, you think you can hear a familiar voice screaming your name.

The world goes away before you put a name to that familiarity.

. . .

You awake to the sound of patterned beeps, the scent of sterilizing products hitting your nose quickly after.

As you open your eyes, the bright, fluorescent light forces you to close them again, hesitantly getting yourself out of your slumber.

The rustling of your sheets alerted the blonde sitting in the chair beside you, urging him to get up at once.

He looked at you gently, as though you were more fragile than glass.

The guilt he felt practically ran through him.

Why did you step in like that, Y/N.

They barely kept you alive on the battlefield.

And every surgery you’d had kept him on edge.

He’d lost so much, already.

He couldn’t lose you, too.

You opened your eyes enough to glance at the face in front of you, mumbling the familiar name:

“...Katsuki?”

“Oi, looks like someone’s finally awake.”

His usual demeanor seemed softer, almost as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“..where are we?”

“-hospital. You’ve been in here since you pulled that stupid stunt of yours.”

You looked at him silently, processing the fact that you even made it out of that alive.

Last you recall, the world had fallen dark.

You’d really accepted dying in that moment.

Yet, God had other plans it seems, since here you were, alive and, mostly, well.

You couldn’t quite believe it, but seeing the boy in front of you, you were grateful.

“Snap out of it” Bakugo hissed at you, rolling his eyes.

He thought to himself for a moment, before putting his head in his hands.

“Damn it, Y/N, don’t do that ever again.”

“...do what?” You respond, still in a daze.

"..."

“Trying to get yourself killed like that.”

You looked at him, as you took in his words,

“Don't step in the way for me, you idiot. It might get ya hurt, or worse, don’tcha see?”

“I didn’t try to.” You explained, slightly shifting in your hospital bed to fully face him.

His demeanor had changed from his usual self, and was instead filled with disdain.

He’d be tearing himself apart over this - that much, you figured.

“My feet ‘moved on their own’” you smiled, repeating the words so often uttered around class.

He scoffed, shaking his head, before putting your hand in his.

He smiled at you wholly,

“I guess that makes you a real hero then, huh?”

"..."

“I guess so.”

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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#reminder: these are TEENAGERS fighting a war #someone get them some therapy please #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katuski #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski x reader

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nerdgal27 · 9 days

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Home

Sunshine dapples the deep green forest. Burn the late morning dew glittering jewels in mid air. Coffee mug in hand black liquid slosh onto cold fingers as I wobble down the tiny staircase of the camper pickup truck. An old rust bucket is the last bit of my savings can afford.

Sit on a lazy afternoon in a cozy chair. Stare at the endless view of evergreen pines and misty gray mountains is worth it all. Take in the cool sweet wood scent of green fill sore lungs. Swivel chair further away from an old gravel path. Wind over the lush undergrowth. Where customary rodents cover last night's tracks. Eat the empty nut shells and left over trail mix I left for them. Can’t stomach to eat anything again. What’s the point now?

Shield away by Mother Nature’s warmth and green walls. Her sweet melody chirps and whispers in the silence. The sticky sun glues me under the camper cobweb awning. Spiders big enough to play the banjo. Thought grows a chuckle to who said that once. Forever gone away in the forever distance. All for the best. For everyone. For them most of all.

Free from pain, from it all. It has been done. No need to know the outside world. Can almost imagine it all. Not now. No need to think about any of that at all. Other than wonder how hot this coffee is for me to sip.

Deep rich aroma takes me away from the pines. Old giggles bounce from concrete walls. Sparks spray in all directions mingles the smell with old metal. When muddle hands rub black grease over my eyebrow. Old scooter parts vomit all over the floor. A victim to be torn apart, rebuilt to either drive faster. Or explode.

Phone rings memories back to green and soft blue reality. Muffle in the far depths of the 1967 brown and green camper. Can’t be right, I shut it off last night.

Crawl back into the sauna brown dungeon. Follow the ringtone to the front. Weave over the hot tea water bottles on the fuzzy floor. Brush last night’s debris aside in the trap of doom between the front seat. Bright pink old life shivers in a frenzy.

I shouldn’t turn the phone over to see the screen. This needs to be my new life now. Can’t go back anyways. How can I like this? How can anyone? Doing this for them. An glove box that only opens and closes by a swift kick is a good place to bury it all away. Turn off all of the past in orange velvet darkness. Leave it all tucked away. Return to the fresh sirene new life.

Canadian geese honk over the tall tree peaks. The way the flock swoops down a long terrain down from blue skies and feather clouds. Sunrays beam grasshopper hisses mid day summer heat. Follow the distant honks and splash. A cool lake lap over dry cracked feet sounds perfect. Clear this heavy head of mine.

Wander back inside. Cool worn out duds for lake water. Cold beer in hand, tuck comfy chair under my arm. A handful of fluorescent pink tags roll in hand. Nice way to return to my new home without getting lost. Wait for another set of geese to flutter above. Lead the way out of the hot sun. Weave between the trees. Step over tree root monsters. Smile at the odd bird or animal hops by.

“We don’t keep secrets, right?”

I whisper to the memories. “No, you don’t.”

Another voice in the dream rasp. “He still loves you.”

He shouldn’t, neither should any of you. Too broken, not enough. Difficult.

Out here. All are no different than any woodland creatures from the largest moose to the small voles scurry by. What is worse, to remember the words. Or the subtle silence of the first night when all of this began. A sink full of awful empty decisions. The oldest brother’s quiet gaze. Patterns flourish in the forest around me. Bright shapes shimmer all that is long gone behind me. Nothing wrong with a cold one in hand on a hot day.

Besides, take in all of this. A wide dark turquoise green lake. Full of life. A single loon lone coo along with the tiny dots of geese in the water. Soft gentle slopes into sand and clay. Show evidence of deer were here moments ago.

He misses you that’s all

One’s voice. Does he?… Of course he does. How could he not? Everyone else knows.

Sit down in the chair. Set down the last 3 cans of a 6 pack. Miraculous 3 survivors of a drunk blackout yesterday. Crack open heaven. Slide it down the fire throat. Feel it burn over it all. Take in this brand new peaceful life of quiet. Should bring out a couple fishing poles for tonight. If I remember to come back for them. Can’t go back to anything nowadays.

When will I see you?

My old self. When my voice had more life.

Soon, Sweetheart, it will be like old times.

There’s a reason why they are called old times. It was a good life. A loud life, somewhat chaotic. The endless laughs, pile ons, pushing around. Plastic cockroaches in cupboards, glitter in ninja smoke bombs. One time Mikey and I replaced Raphael’s shower gel for blue dye. Guy was a grumpy Smurf for 4 days. His grouchy growls. The wooden spoon in papa turtle Smurf’s hand. Mikey ran for his life. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Wash over the more recent screams and pushes away. Even more of the dark and bleek.

When closet doors rattle. Whisky bottles smash in the far distance-

No. Not again. Never speak of it again. None of that ever happened.

Water swishes numb ankles. Whirl to baby ducks splash nearby. Over work, Mother of 6 squacks her children to behave and paddle behind her. Chuckles at their little feet blur under the clear water. Match the same speed of their cotton ball wings. Can remember when Mikey used to run the same way. Anytime Donnie chases Mikey out of his lab. Sometimes so then Donnie and I could play science and pupil again.

Water waves between my toes. Shallow parts warm from the sun. Heat numb limbs. Swallow back to boiling hot water. Scorch delicate young skin.

Mommy it’s too hot.

No…stop

Screams echo. Blister scar. Bare to the summer heat. Every single one remembers every pain. Why did I wear this tank top? Why am I out here? Can’t stay.

Hands stick on to lawn chair. Water waves slosh against the sandy ridge. Small legs kick. Hot water splashes everywhere. Hands shove deep under water.

Sweetheart, breathe…

Violet voice whispers. Take his invisible hands. Squeeze them. The way he told me to. No thumb rubs my hands. Take in all of the cool fresh pine. Have to get used to this alone. Least this way is the best. No one’s burden any more. Can pick up this lawn chair anytime.

Wander back the pink flag trail. Lose myself to millions of songs birds and butterflies flutter by. Brush soft long grass under fingers as I go. Crisp fresh air. Think about what bait to use for food tonight. Another thing I will have to start getting used to.

Yellow happy face atena swings in between shrubs. Wave me down the direction home. Swig the last bit of powerful robust dark beer. Ignite pain away in a smooth burn. Drown darkness where they belong.

Soft breeze hushes the forest buzz. Breathe in strong bitter fuel knocks the taste of beer. Great animal growls a deep hungry growl. Take me back to a cool violet room. To a lab chair and elastic bands for hair tying.

“Sweetheart!?”

Old life hollars me dead frozen in the tall grass. Hidden behind thick honeysuckles. The low hanging tree branches block the meadow opening of my new home. Don’t need to see how close the voice is. Can hear his feet crunch back and forth in the gravel. Rusty truck doors whine open and slam shut. Yellow smiley atena whirs in a hyperactive spaz. Empty cans clang on the far away floor board. Fast in a frantic, more than the time he caught Mikey in his mutagen supply.

Footsteps wobble in the far depths of camper sweet camper. No.

He can’t be here. No one can find me like this. I did this for them. They need to stay away from me. Far from any ear shot here. Can drop everything and run. Spin to do so. Lungs leap to jump for the hot pink trail back to the lake.

Get back here!

Hot greasy hand clap thunder. Drop the entire lazy afternoon supply. Oh crap no! Don’t drop them.

Metal chair legs clang against beer cans.

Shallow gasp in the wind. Pushes me faster down the trail. Teenage bare feet pound thistles and burrs I weaved around before.

Child bare feet blur down a hallway. Slam the bedroom door shut.

“Tessie, wait!”

Oh shit! Dammit! All the curse words Mikey should never hear. He found me. Faster down the hill. Over the log. Reach for the ridge. Follow the open blue sky between the evergreen trunks.

Slip under fast large hands. Hardwood scraps small bare knees. Away from him. Away from the man. Go go go.

Feet hush to the quiet breeze and soft rainfall of leaves. The broken footpath behind me, bare. Maybe turned back to the shellraiser for something. No matter. Least I can slow down, and lungs can breathe.

Leaves rustle ahead. Green blur drops from above. Dead in his tracks. The tall slender turtle raises his hands and snatches me. Should have known. Been raised by ninjas for Pete sake.

Jerk arms in his grip. Swallow the rock down.

“Donnie, what are you doing here? Let me go.”

Sink away from his gaze. Loosen his grip to one hand on my arm.

He pants, “I’m not here to fight, and I should be the one asking you the same question.”

Rip his hand off me. No point in running. His long legs follow behind down the path. As I pick up the lawn chair.

“No phone call, no note, do you know what I found in that camper?” His feet pound behind.

Pick up what’s left of the 6 pack. Dangle the last 2 cans yet to be drank. No point in hiding it now. Plus he said he’s not here to fight. There’s no need to answer. Lanky green hands rip the plastic rings.

“Hey!”

Whirl back to the two cans soar into the forest. Shove Donnie back.

“What the hell was that for? That stuff ain’t cheap.”

He towers over me. Loom a dark shadow over. Calm eyes narrow into deep violet slits. Deepens his sharp tongue.

“Do you know how long I drove to find you,

How long we’ve been looking for you?”

Step out of his shadow. Continue down the path into the sunlight. Home sweet home lies ahead.

Shrug as I go, “You didn’t have to. Just decided to take a trip, that's all, what’s wrong with that?”

Old life lingers in the shadows. Listen to teeth grit splinters. Boy did he skip coffee? Why is he hear anyway. Everyone knows so what’s the point?

Set the lawn chair back under the shade of a hunter's green awning. Since Mr. Grumpy in the corner threw a good set of cans. Guess I’ll have to get more. Crawl back inside the brown velvet coffin. Weave over the thrown cans on the floor. Guess I’ll have to clean this soon. The camper door slams shut.

“I wouldn’t shut that, unless you want to melt.” I speak to the ghost by the door.

Silence. Gonna be civil now. Want to burn holes through my head? Go on, do it. Everyone else is gone, why should anything matter. Open the mini fridge. To an endless supply of bottles, cans, and what I forgot most. Leaps off the shelves, plop to the fuzzy floor.

Oh shit.

“…what is that?”

He’s the brainiac and yet he’s asking me? Should be pretty obvious by the label. Let his long legs weave around me. Take a bag from the fridge. I Crack open a cold one. Fire burns down all those dark heavy nights. Think back to all of the colorful waves last night.

“…T-this…”

Leave him in the camper. Let him figure it out himself. Wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with. Might as well read what brand I use, for what? Who knows.

Set the can in the lawn chair. Camper door shuts, no slam? Weird. Shouldn’t he be furious or something?

Been standing there for a while. Turn to him at the metal steps. Shaded from the hot sun. Bag shivers in between his fingers. Lost to the horizon. That I’ve seen thousands of times in his brown eyes. His internal gears whir. He never looks like this unless…

“You do know, right?”

Silence answers. The deep rise and fall of his chest. He sinks down to the flatten tall grass. Let the bag fall between his fingers. A look I make when I wake up from a nightmare. Before I would run straight to his bedroom.

Set the can away. How? What?!

Rise up from the old seat. I ask, “The guys never told you?”

Rise from his palms, bambi eyes round wide, “They know about this?!”

“Well…yeah”-

“How long?” He mutters, waiting for an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Take a step away from his ember coals glow. Shrug an answer, “I thought you knew, how can everyone else know but you Donnie, you know every inch of the city.”

“How was I supposed to know?” He shoots from the ground. Bury me in his height, “You never call or text me anymore, and then leave the city to who knows where, does Mikey know?!”

Mikey. Golden sun, white dust particles float over the sweet turtle. Bath in old and new sunlight. Breathe that old dry air of that lazy morning.

Nod in silence. Hoarse throat stops all words Heavy numb limbs drag back inside the brown coffin. Large queen size mattress at the back. Warm by the sun. Shut all of the curtains away. Curl all away in a ball. Close away from all life. This is not what is supposed to happen.

“Sweetheart?” Footsteps wobble the camper.

No answer. Feel the camper sink down with him. Warmth touches my arch back, soft thumb rubs me to the old cool lab. All those years ago.

“What are your plans for being out here?” He whispers.

No, he already knows now. He can’t know about this too. It will crush him. Shiver under his soft palm. There’s no going back. I’ve made this decision. Already caused enough problems as it is. First Leo. How it all turned Raph down into this dark hole. Times I’ve picked him up because of what I’ve done. Tried to fix it all for Mikey. Tried to be happy for Mikey. Yet…I am here. This is what I deserve. Donnie shouldn’t even be here. Why is he still here?

Weight shifts the mattress. Warmth drapes behind all along against me. His long arm slides around me. Pull me back tight against his beating heart. Donnie’s muzzle nestles deep into my shoulder. It doesn't take much for him to know.

Brush back strands from my cheek.

He whispers, “You don’t deserve to go through this alone.”

Roll in his arms. Drown myself into this chest I’ve missed so much all night long. Muzzle in his sweet scent and warmth. Squeeze all pain in his tight arms.

I shake, “I-I Don’t kn-know… if I can go back, big brother, I-I’m too broken. No one should be stuck with me”-

Soft lips plant firm silence my heavy forehead.

“You are never too broken, it’s okay to have space for a while when you need it.” His deep voice murmurs in my ear.

Cling on to his belt. The same way when I was small. Take me back to the memories. Away from all of this. Let all of the pain drip onto his chest. Choke on my words.

As my brainiac brother traces slow circles on my back. Sweet rich coffee fills my world. Over the fresh pine. More warm than the summer hot sun. A soft sigh quells more than the lone loon. I am back home. This is home. Safe. Can hide here as long as I need.

He whispers, “I will stay for as long as you need me, little pupil.”

Bit through all the painful tears to fall. That roll down my brother’s chest. Yesterday I was in darkness. Tomorrow, who knows where I will be. For now I am with Donatello. My close friend, my big brother.

I am home.

#tmnt #tmnt fan art #tmnt fanfiction #2012 Donatello #2012 Donnie #2012 tmnt #depression

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redwritr · 2 months

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WIP ...day

i was tagged ages ago by @cassietrn (thank you!), and since I know they're constantly working on things, here's a no-expiration tag back for @cassietrn as well as @shootybangbang, @twola, @reddeaddufus, @cheesewedge, @readingcoco and @revolversandlace

here's a tease of a future sidesmut (excerpt is sfw)💗

Lilacs in May

The two of you stand side by side at the front desk in the lobby of The Acadian Hotel, so weary from the road and the heat of the day, you feel as if you’re swaying in place. Wan-faced. Drained. Mud-caked. Bloody.

The clerk clears his throat. “I should mention that our rates are considerable.”

“That don’t matter, partner.” For having been dragged fifty feet or so by his horse, Arthur sounds almost conversational. Affable. Patient for a short while longer.

“Our rooms start at ten dollars, sir.”

“What dyou got for twenty?”

The clerk purses his lips, and his eyebrows push up before he can calm them to a more professionally neutral angle, and clears his throat again. “For twenty you could have room twelve, the Queen Vict-”

“Sounds good, partner.”

“Payment up front, of course, is…customary.”

Arthur unfolds two soggy bills from a thick clip, completely unaware of the attention around him immediately drawn to such voluminous wealth, and wipes away some mud to check the denomination. “I assume you take foldin money.” They fall with a flop on the leather desk top.

“…Yes.” The clerk lifts them with a pinch. “Yes sir.”

Behind the clerk, an ornate key rack hangs mostly empty, but for the one marked No. 12, and as the clerk turns to unhook it, his tone changes as if he’s remembered his duty, and he turns back around with a refreshed smile. “…Might I sugge- mention our spacious, state of the art private bathrooms, equipped with modern shower enclosures, nickel-plated, imported from Europe.”

“Europe you say.”

“England.”

“English showers, sweetheart, you hear that? Sounds perfect.”

“Finest cure for skin and lung ailments.”

He’s leaning on the desk now as he nudges your arm. You stand there lifting one grime-caked boot, clumps of half-dried mud falling off your trousers on the fancy patterned rug in soft thuds. Gray streaks coat the insides of your trouser legs, dried lather from your horse, and it reeks like a stockyard; even you are repulsed by it and unsure why you have to be waiting here so goddamn long. You notice two ladies across the room not very discreetly fanning the air in front of their faces.

“We have recently had a brand-new boiler installed. Enough to supply hot water to all twelve private baths. We may be on edge of civilization, but no man shall have a cold shower in The Acadi-”

“You got any soap?”

The clerk is silent for a long fluttering blink. “You’ll find an assortment of finest quality soaps and bath oils in the suite.”

Momentarily, his nervous glance veers left, to the adjacent dining room and its tuxedoed staff lighting tall candles in the center of white-clothed tables, and planting crystal glasses by the plates as delicately as seedlings. “Will you be needing a dinner reservation?” He seems to shrink in his suit, facing the man in front of him again and the prospect of enforcing a dress code.

“Have it brought up.”

With a noticeable sigh, the clerk glances down as another ten dollar bill is tossed in front of him. Arthur plucks the key from his hand and takes yours, as sticky and grimy as the soles of your boots, and pulls you up the wide, carpeted staircase. He touches his brim at a couple of ladies coming down, who freeze together in a cowering gawk, pressed against the opposite railing.

As soon as the door is closed, he falls in his full kit, two guns, bandolier, and his 10-inch Bowie knife, into a tufted chair in the nearest corner and hangs his arms off the sides and rests his neck loose on the back of the chair.

You trudge two steps past him before you lower, aching, to your knees, and your hands, and your stomach, and your face on the rug, and lie there flat, unexpectedly aware of how fragrant a rug can smell.

“Do rich people perfume their floors?”

“Probably.”

Behind you, the heavy dulled weight of his bandolier clacks on the floorboards, next his gunbelt, then you hear him wince and get down to his knees off the chair and feel him crawl stiffly overtop you until he hovers very close and leans down.

“You just gonna sleep there then?” He delicately nips the edge of your ear.

“Maybe,” you mumble, face mashed into the velvety pile. “Why.”

“I was told there's an English shower over there I'd like to show you."

“What's English about it.”

He's carving his hand under your stomach and fidgeting unsuccessfully with the buckle of your gunbelt while you do nothing to help him.

“I got a few ideas.”

“Why would anyone want to stand up to bathe?”

“Why would you stand up at all. Lazy…” he mutters, trying to jimmy your buckle up to the side as you make yourself even more limp over his hand.

“I was busy working while you had to get yourself dragged off down the road.” Your voice shakes as he lightly jerks your belt and finally pulls it off like he's just pried open a safe.

“If I recall, I was busy gettin dragged while you was bein a show-off.” He crushes you with his full weight before getting up with a heavy smack on your ass.

He explores the room; you hear drawers opening, lamps switching on and off, and then the heavy thud of one boot falling to the floor, and the other, and the sound of him walking into the next room.

There's a light knock on the door like a tremor, and Arthur steps over you to answer, accepts what was brought, and shuts the door while the man is still thanking him for, as far as you can tell, being a guest of the hotel, his tone really more of a question.

You’re half asleep on that plush and fragrant rug when he starts enticing you to your feet one small nudge of his toes in your ribs at a time. A sharp pop of a cork hardly stirs you from the strong magnetic pull of your nap.

And you’re about to ask what got into him, but you know.

#wip #lilacs in may #future sidesmut #shower scene #cunty arthur is cunty #god i want to post the rest so badly but no we are strong

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ozarkthedog · 11 months

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summary: while having a private moment with your boss, the ceo unexpectedly drops by… or so you think.

pairings: Boss!Layla El-Faouly x afab intern!reader x CEO!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Alt Universe. slight dubcon but reader is willing. power imbalance. free use. f/f -> f/m. established relationship (layla x reader). oral sex (fem receiving). fingering. sex in a private office. dirty talk. praise kink. cum feeding. cream pie.

word count: 3.8k 😅

author’s note: if a fic could come to life, i'd choose this one. thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta'ing and the mental support. i haven't written a fic this long in a while. hope you enjoy. 💙

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“I have the paperwork all ready for you to sign, Ms. El-Faouly.”

Your boss, Layla, peers up at you with her deep brown eyes from behind her monitor. “Hey, one second. I’ve got to finish this email real quick.” She sends you a soft smile in return before nodding to the right towards a big stack of papers sitting messily on her desk.

Layla had one of the corner offices and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite spot in the entire building. It floods with sunlight all day long and it’s got a great view of the city. Layla was also another reason why it was your favorite.

“How was your day?” She asks, typing as you place the paperwork on top of the stack.

She’s wearing that dark gray, silk blouse and skirt combo you helped her pick out last week during a night out on the town. You told her it made her look powerful and inviting as you got down on your knees for her later that same evening.

“It’s going alright.” You sigh, drawing imaginary patterns on the corner of her desk.

Layla clicks send on the email and turns her attention to you. She leans her elbows on the edge of her desk with a pensive brow. You can see her brain working on ways to fix your problems before you even tell her. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Nothing is wrong, I swear.” You raise your hands, shaking your head while the gorgeous woman looks you over quizzically.

Stretching your arms over her desk, you grasp her hands, giving them a squeeze. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just..”

“What is it?” she asks, tucking a few strands of her wild curls behind her ear. She leads you around her desk by your clenched hands and pins your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Tell me.”

Your eyes dance around the room, landing everywhere but on her. She gives your chin a slight shake and forces your eyes back to hers.

You take a deep breath. “Am I doing a good job?”

Layla’s heart sinks. “Of course you are. Why on earth-”

“It’s just, it’s so much work.” You cut her off, spilling your worries now that the dam has been broken. “I hate not being able to get everything to you on time. Not to mention there’s so much paperwork. No one ever says thank you but they’ll definitely yell when you’ve done something wrong. I don’t know if I’m doing things right-”

“C’mere, baby.” She ceases your ramble and pulls you down into her lap and into a searing kiss that makes your head swirl.

Tender, yet fierce lips encompass your own, stealing your gasps with fond affection as she winds her arms around your waist and maneuvers you into the position she wants.

You settle into the pose, kneeling over her lap with your legs on the outsides of her thighs, the cushion of her expensive chair a grateful soft bedding as she forms you to her body.

“Should we really be doing this?” You ask between broken, breathless kisses. It was after 5pm, so it was less likely anyone would walk in on you and her. Still, hesitation nestled in your belly.

“Everyone is gone for the night.” She confirms before lewdly dragging her tongue along the seam of your lips. “There’s no need to worry about them.”

Layla presses her forehead against yours sensing your apprehension. She searches your timid eyes for a moment trying to find the right words to express her gratitude.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. I’ve gotten no complaints from anyone. So if they have an issue, they haven’t told anyone,” she says, holding your gaze. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you more about how lucky I am to have you. My life has been so much better since you started working here.”

She holds your face, rubbing her thumb along the apple of your cheek. “In more ways than one.” She winks, playfully.

“Layla!” You gasp, lightly swatting her on the chest.

She sends you a look you know all too well. The raised eyebrow and slightly parted lips mean trouble is coming. In a good way.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know what you started.” Her hands tickle your ribs in a flash making your eyes bug as you try to keep your giggles at bay. You squirm incessantly in her lap, wishing you could break free but she had a strong hold around your waist.

Your skirt slid up your thighs in the process of all your wriggling, no longer hiding your want for her as your panties are noticeably soaked through.

“Oh, baby, you really are desperate for me.” She coos, eyes growing soft as she feigns a pout. “Poor baby.”

She skillfully undoes the pearly buttons on your white, flower-patterned blouse, sliding the thin material off your shoulders and onto the floor. Soft, warm hands palm your breasts, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin before she makes you gasp by wickedly pinching your sensitive nipples.

She teases her fingers down further then and along the soaked cloth of your panties, drawing light circles over your throbbing, hidden clit. You whimper into her chocolate curls, a soft pathetic mewl, begging her for more as you perch wearily in her lap.

“What do you say?” she asks with a sharp tongue and pointed stare.

She weaves her arm around your hips, smoothing a palm over the curve of your ass and dragging your panties down in the process before seeking out your aching warmth once more. A well-manicured finger teases down the slick, puffy seam of you from behind, teasing and torturing you until she’s satisfied. She loves breaking you into little pieces and putting you back together.

“Please-” You gasp as your hips buck on their own accord, chasing her fingers for relief. “Please, Layla.”

The older woman’s painted lips tug into a sly smile, “That’s my good girl.”

Your world is consumed. Her brunette curls smell of lavender and spice. They tickle your cheek and senses as she plays your body like a well tuned piano. Her hold on you is immense. There’s never any doubt that she doesn’t adore you.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Layla coos, grasping the back of your neck with her free hand as her other cups your searing mound. You jolt from the touch but do as she says, meeting her soft yet stoic expression with watery eyes.

She pins you with a firm stare as she slowly presses two fingers into your soaked core. You know better than to turn your gaze from her but your eyes flutter as she finally grants you the sweet relief you’ve been begging for.

“That’s my good girl,” Layla praises as she fills you to the hilt, knuckles grazing your puckered hole and claiming every inch of your cunt.

Deft fingers glide with prowess as a steady, toe curling rhythm is set. Your body trembles as a foggy bliss rolls into your mind. Your knees shake, desperately meeting her thrusts, wanting nothing more than to come around her fingers.

“You take what I give you, sweet girl.” Layla coos, nudging her nose against your cheek. She doesn’t like it when you get greedy. “You know that.”

One of your hands clutches the back of her chair while the other has her blouse in a death grip. A scolding is in your future but you could care less as you rock back onto her fingers chasing the pleasure she’s finally allowing.

Something heavy in your gut twists. The knot Layla began tying when she first got you onto her lap starts tightening. Your muscles ache, ready to collapse under the pressure when she gives you the word.

Just then, a quick succession of knocks rap on her door.

Your head whips up as Layla’s fingers go still. Ice courses through your veins freezing the searing wildfire that burns in your abdomen. You knew it was stupid to try anything at work. Besides the occasionally secretive kiss, you both kept things to a dull roar. No one knew about your relationship and you wanted it to stay that way.

“Shh. Be still.” Layla whispers, unfazed, as she cups her free hand along your jaw. “You trust me. Right?”

You nod in her tender hold, hips pressing just a bit harder into her palm. “Good girl.”

“Who is it?” Layla calls out. Your body jolts as her fingers begin moving again and you send her a bewildered look.

“Marc,” a gruff voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Shit — it was the CEO.

Marc Spector built this company from the ground up. He and Layla had been working together since almost the beginning. They explicitly trusted and respected one another even when they didn’t meet eye to eye.

You’d met Marc only once. It was a brief interaction as one of your coworkers showed you around on your first day. He was personable and made you feel welcome even though you were a lowly intern.

You thought he was handsome and could kill someone with his smile. His jet black quiff would curl on humid days when he forgot to gel it. It made you admire him even more for some reason.

“Come in.” She answers while holding your worried gaze with her own unwavering one.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Layla, what’re doin-” you hiss, squirming to get free from her arms again.

“Remember your safe word.” she says, quickly just before Marc walks in.

“Layla, I was wonderin-” Marc starts as he steps into the office and instantly cuts himself off at the lewd display.

You can’t breathe. Shame and embarrassment flood your system. If the floor could open up, you’d gladly jump in.

Marc stands in awe. You couldn’t turn to face him but you spy his reflection in the darkened window and that’s more than enough. You don't know how you could ever look him in the eye after this.

“What’s this now?” He ponders, intrigue shaping his words as he steps closer, tapping his knuckles on Layla’s oversized desk.

“I was just rewarding her for doing such a good job,” Layla responds like she doesn’t have you propped in her lap with her fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

You see Marc nod in the reflection and take another step closer. Your body burns like red hot coals as you feel his eyes on your body mainly where Layla’s fingers slowly thrust into your shiny, slick opening.

“That right?” Marc questions with a curious tone as he rubs a hand along his rough five o’clock shadow.

“She’s so attentive and such a hard worker.” Layla praises, finally looking in your direction. “I had to show how much I appreciate her.”

Marc chuckles. It’s a deep huff of laughter that rumbles from his chest and it makes your insides melt. “Is she any good at helping relieve some stress?” he asks pensively while looking at your holes like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“She most certainly is,” Layla smirks, raising a sculpted brow before sliding a finger under your chin, tipping your face in toward her. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

You’d been with Layla since the first day you started working, shared any and all free time together along with the inner workings of your bedroom. Explored each other’s bodies freely and with such passion. Falling to Layla’s feet came naturally to you and she made you feel complete; loved even.

You trusted her to push your limits whenever the time came but you didn’t think you’d ever be in this situation.

“Why don’t you show him how much you love being employed here, baby.” She dubiously insists, slowly nodding her head for you to comply.

You finally gather the courage to look over your shoulder.

Butterflies flutter wildly in your belly as you take in the devilishly handsome man. His hair is mused, like he’d been running a hand through it all day and his button up shirt is loose at the collar, exposing a column of tan skin with two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up exposing his muscular forearms. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

A nervous chortle bubbles up your throat at the nickname. Your insides turn to jelly; and your brain to mush. Your core can’t help but clench as the older man takes you in with a ravenous gaze.

“Oh, she likes that.” Layla quips upon feeling your pussy clamp down on her fingers.

“Does she now?” Marc croons, stepping up right behind you. He smooths his hands along the shape of you. His warmth feels good against your skin and you can’t help but moan when Layla curls her fingers along that spongy spot that makes you feel lightheaded.

“Damn, that’s a pretty pussy.” He drawls, crouching down behind your bent form. With your ass in the air, you already felt so exposed and now the owner of the company was getting a front row view of the most private parts of you.

Sticky, wet noises fill the room as Layla splays her fingers deep inside your velvet channel. You bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. So overstimulated and heated, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Want a taste?’ Layla asks, jogging you from your stupor.

Marc grunts in response. You look back in time to watch Layla feeding him her shiny, cream coated fingers. The debauched noise he makes while he licks and sucks her fingers clean has your heart falling into your lower half.

You meet his lust filled gaze as he stands. Layla’s fingers leave his lips with a pop, and he palms his hard length through his dark slacks. “You gonna show me how good you are at serving your superiors?”

A nervous whimper escapes from your throat at his question.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, lapping at some of your fallen cream as he pulls his cock out and gives it a languid tug. You watch dumbstruck as he pumps his length, from the obscenely thick base that’s littered with dark wiry hairs to a bulbous, desert blush tip that weeps in his hand after every twist.

“Is that a yes, sweetheart?” he questions.

A smirk lifts the corners of his mouth at your stupefied gaze. Marc raises a hand and grasps the back of your neck, moving your head in a crude up-down motion. “This is how you say, yes.”

Another deep chuckle burrows into your brain and makes you go even more dumb.

Fire ignites in your belly and races up your body, making your face burn. Your mouth bobs open and closed like a fish, wanting to answer him but you can’t even form the simplest word.

“She tends to go a bit brain dead when she gets overwhelmed.” Layla thankfully answers for you.

She thumbs your cheek. “But that pretty pussy of hers makes up for it.”

“You don’t say…” Marc quips before tapping his tip on your soaked folds. Your slick drips down your inner thighs showing that you would indeed make up for your lack of communication.

He notches the thick head past your dripping opening before slowly sinking into your cunt. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, pressing his full length all the way and grinding the cut of his hips against your ass.

“God damn.” Marc grits, hissing through his teeth at the way you squeeze him.

You whimper from the immense stretch. It feels like his cock is burrowing a new space inside your body. “Layla. Too much–” You gasp, having never felt so full before. “So. Big.”

She cups her hands around your face, hushing your cries. “I know, baby. I know.”

Marc’s hips never falter. He plunges into your heat with an unyielding, merciless pace, pushing slick and cream from between your folds, making your belly twist in pleasurable pain.

His strong hands knead your fleshy hips, pulling you back on every brute shove, forcing you to take every inch he gives. “Such a good girl. Doin’ just what we say.”

Your core clenches that much tighter knowing you’re making them happy. “You love it don’t you, pretty girl?” His heavy balls slap against your exposed clit making you mewl and writhe in the combined hold they had on you.

Sticky, sweet bliss drowns your senses. You’re a wanton mess. A plaything between two beautiful gods as they have their fun..

You whine when Marc slows his rhythm, canting his hips so his cock stays buried deep. “I thought you were one of the best.” Marc sighs with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. “But it seems you’re not as attentive as I thought.”

Your brow furrows as you look at him over your shoulder.

“I think it’s time to show your Boss how much you appreciate her.”

Marc moves quickly, dragging you out of Layla’s arms and down onto your knees in front of her spread legs. Layla quirks a brow at him.

“What? I wanted to see how attentive she really was.” Marc says, talking about you like you weren’t speared open on his heavy cock.

Layla pulls her dress up over her legs and spreads her thighs. Her panties looked much like your own, wet, sticky, and just begging to be removed.

“Go on. Show her how much you love being on your knees for her.” Marc commands. With a snap of his hips, he jolts your bones and forces your head between Layla’s thighs. “Eat your boss’s cunt.”

Heat flames your face at his words when a familiar hand curves around your jaw. Layla pulls her panties to the side and leads you gently, well as gently as she can while you’re being plowed from behind, to her slick folds.

She sighs as your tongue licks a long stripe from her weeping opening to her clit. You flick the tiny nub, drawing tight circles for a brief moment before sliding down her folds. You lap hungrily at her slit, freely licking into her tight hole and sliding your tongue in and out from her heat.

“There you go.” Layla coos down at you with a smile. She scratches her nails along your scalp making you purr against her clit. She grinds her cunt against your mouth, chasing her pleasure. Nothing made you happier than making Layla feel good. Your core throbs when she gasps and fucks her mound onto your tongue.

A rough, grating moan crawls from Marc’s chest as your cunt quivers and milks his length. “Such a good girl letting us use you like this.” He grits, slamming his hips harder into your ass and knocking your face steadily into Layla’s cunt. “Like you were made for it.”

Your core spasms at his words. You did love being on your knees for them. At their beck and call, wanting to be of service however they needed.

Marc lays his body along your spine, pressing his clothed chest against your bare back, and nuzzles his curved nose along your cheek. A large hand slinks around your hip and notches nimble fingers against your clit, swirling tight circles around the throbbing nub. “Wanna know all the pretty noises you make when you come.”

“Oh, they’re just the sweetest.” Layla moans, breathlessly as your lips lock around her clit. You suckle the tiny nub until

she’s digging her fingers into your hair, writhing and gasping.

Marc groans at the sight of his business partner unfurling with pleasure. His breath is hot in your ear and he crowds you even more, leaving no chance of escape.

“Come on, girl. Be good and come for us.” Marc commands, shifting his hips until his throbbing tip grazes that hidden spot behind your clit.

With Layla humping your face and Marc sheathing his cock further inside you with every shove, you’re pushed to the edge before you can even think. Your cream coated lips fall open with a feverish wail as your body locks tight.

Your muscles shake uncontrollably as you careen off the edge. Your soaked core clenches like a fist, forcing Marc’s pace to stutter and drag him along with you. He lets loose a dark roar when his balls draw up and he fucks your trembling core to the brim with his thick seed.

His cock twitches between your folds, pumping you full with every last drop. “God damn, you weren’t kidding. She more than made up for going all dumb eariler.” He slowly eases from your core with a hiss and tucks his half hard length back into his slacks.

Your head is still reeling from the powerful orgasm and Marc’s compliment makes you just that much more lightheaded. Thank goodness you were already on the ground.

“Oh you’re making such a mess.” Layla gasps when she sees the thick river of white that runs down your thighs. Your knees ache from being on the hard carpet for so long but the pain is forgotten as the pair crowds over you.

You whine as Layla and Marc drag their fingers through the hot stickiness and press them into your mouth.

You gag heavily around the two sets of fingers, tears pricking your eyes as they cover your tongue in the combined spend. “Good girl. Clean up the mess you made.” Marc nods slowly, heavy lidded with a deep moan of satisfaction as you choke and sputter while Layla proudly smiles down at you. “Did so well for me; for us.”

She shares a curious look with Marc before turning her gaze back to you and thumbs the last bit of white into your mouth.

“Might need to borrow her again sometime soon.” Marc comments as they help you onto your feet. “You know how stressed I can get.”

Your legs are shaky, like a newborn doe, as Layla brushes down your crumpled skirt while Marc helps you back into your blouse, securely buttoning you up.

“We’ll see about that.” Layla responds as she gathers you into her arms and sits back down on her chair, tucking your sleepy head under her chin.

“I’ll see you ‘round the office, sweetheart.” He raises a hand and tenderly grazes your dewy temple with his knuckles.

As he sees himself out, he winks at Layla and she smirks before he shuts the door leaving the two of you in peaceful silence.

As you relax in Layla’s arms, burrowing yourself into her safe warmth, you notice through sleepy eyes that her monitor is still on. The email she was typing when you dropped off the paperwork lights up the screen.

𝚃𝙾: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 (𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌)

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 - 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚊 𝙴𝚕-𝙵𝚊𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚢

𝙲𝙵𝙾 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌

*evil laughter* they were in cahoots the entire time!

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#layla el faouly #marc spector #Layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x reader x marc spector #marc spector x reader #oscar isaac #may calamawy

289 notes · View notes

gardenialver · 2 months

Text

School Festival

synopsis - them going to see you at the school fair

pairing - keiji akaashi, hajime iwaizumi, tooru oikawa

content - reader is fem, I'm sorry I'm working on a gn reader I promise, Oikawa's a little cocky, second hand embarrassment slightly, mentions of infections, I may or may not have stolen the plot of hsm 3 in one of them, the schools I mention in here are fake, fluffy fluffy

Keiji Akaashi

You had told him that since it would be you two's last high school festival he absolutely had to come see you, of course he already was but this made him anticipate it the slightest bit more.

Seemingly the drama clubs booth was the most spoken of, making the boy a little nervous. He'd go back and forth from his phone, waiting for you to message him and despite Keiji's often cool demeanor, the moment he received a text from you, he stood up with so much energy and speed the chair fell, the impact causing everyone else in the room to jump.

The setter ran out of his class to the school's gymnasium, only stopping at a gray plastic table, a cloth with the school's colours draped over it, 'Senior Year: American Style'

The first years sat behind the table smiled at the volleyball team captain, "Hello, Akaashi-san, 50 yen please?" Smiling, Keiji began to regain his breath as he took out the coin. They traded the coin for a ticket, "We gave you a discount, only Ikari-san is inside" they winked, referring to the drummer's boyfriend.

Looking at the array of chairs, the boy immediately took a seat close to the front, right in front of the orchestra and right in front of center stage. Looking to the side, the drummer's boyfriend smiled and greeted him, returning the gesture, Keiji listened to the announcement that followed, allowing the entire school to know to gather in the gymnasium for the drama club's festival wrap up performance.

Thankfully for Keiji, most people had already been anticipating the performance and the gymnasium was almost full within 7 minutes of the announcement. The number of people was often the queue for the orchestra to begin setting up and that they did.

Keiji had memorized the timing of performances after 3 years of attending them. After 4 minutes, the lighting settled, a single spotlight aiming at the pianist who introduced the musicians with a wave of each arm to each side.

As they sat down and began to play a few notes, the performance had finally started. With a soft and serene melody, the pianist and choreographer introduced the musical, that was until a second year dressed in a referee outfit blew a whistle.

A basketball hoop, soccer net, volleyball net, and scoreboard, were lowered, the audience immediately began clapping for the cheerleaders who came out. They cheered for the Fukurodani sports teams, the atmosphere becoming slightly tense, as if they were at a real game.

And as if the crowd wasn't already excited enough, members of both girls and boys teams of Fukurodani came out, the audience now standing and clapping, cheering for the members of the teams out, Keiji scoffed at the sight of Anahori and Wataru also there dancing, still clapping for them nonetheless.

The fun atmosphere was upheld for the next few performances, one of them being of the choreographer being twirled around by other second years and first years in pink wigs.

Keiji's eyes peeked down at the pamphlet, getting his phone out to film your performance, camera pointed at the stage, instead a boy spun out of the prop windows.

Another voice sang but from the other side of the gymnasium, and there you were, a little flower-patterned sundress on, elegantly bouncing and twirling your way towards the stage, winking as you caught eye contact with your boyfriend.

Stepping into the orchestra, you begun to play around with pianist and musicians, your boyfriend shaking his head with a smile at your childish behaviour.

Your way onto the stage was by climbing the tree prop, the boy's face leaning close to yours, that was until he walked in the other direction of the prop patio, the two of you playfully taking little steps and glances at each other, your glances making eye contact with Keiji every now and then.

Despite the fact that you and the boy were supposed to be romantic interests in the musical, Keiji could only focus on your voice, how perfectly melodious it was, and the way your sundress would float around your legs, just as it would when you would twirl to show your outfits to him.

The two of you danced around stage and while you sang lyrics about only wanting to be with the boy, your mind was on Keiji, and every other moment so were your eyes.

The rest of the senior cast also made their way behind the prop clear door, some of them sticking their faces out, and as you sung the lyrics "cause we'll always be together" while being spun by the boy, the rest of the cast joined you.

You held onto the guards of the patio, facing the audience while the boy had opened the doors for the rest of the cast to enter, with the lighting, Keiji smiled softly as your eyes glassed over.

The first one to greet you was your best friend and Keiji was of course impressed as you managed to hold your tone and pitch as you hugged her close, you spun around the patio, hugging the choreographer, bumping hips with the cheerleader you would eat lunch with.

Two athletes picked you up, spinning you around and coming close to kiss your cheeks, a grin encasing your face, Keiji's heart warm at your reactions, Anahori had wrapped his arms around you from behind, your hands going up to his arms and leaning side to side with him.

As he let go you came face to face with the boy and he gave you a bouquet. Your shoulder leaned into him and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, that was when Keiji finally realized that the boy was your childhood pen pal.

You continued to sing, this time harmonizing, your voice clear and loud, Keiji had wished someone recorded your microphone when you sang the next few lines because your voice simply sounded the epitome of beauty.

Keiji had got up and started clapping, one of his only moments of extraversion in contrast to his usual recluded personality, your eyes going to him with a smile, a smile that you would only use with him and he returned it, the rest of the crowd quickly followed his actions.

Pulling out a flower, you tossed it down to the pianist, blowing a kiss at them, the two of you slightly teary-eyed at each other. As the song came to an end, a wild round of applause greeted you. With a sigh and a smile you ushered people off the stage, one of the second years running in front of the closing curtains with a sign that read 'intermission'

Not having noticed this before, Keiji's body was stiff, having watched his girlfriend's performance closely, he allowed his body to relax and awaited the curtains to open again.

A bright light made him take out his phone, 'curtain opens in a minute ;P' and as promised the second year came out again, taking the sign, "Curtains open in 30 seconds" He projected before running back in.

This time a more upbeat melody took over, 4 senior boys sang about not wanting to swear suits, it then transitioned over to 4 girls, you being one of them. You spun around holding a dress to your body. As the song progressed Keiji couldn't help but be impressed at the choreographers attention to detail.

The consistent changes in levels between the two sides, Keiji had never been to prom and only had a loose understanding of it from American movies but it sounded as if you'd be pampered and pretty and he enjoyed both of those.

The stage turned around and Keiji smiled at the small sight of you running off to change your costume. When the stage turned back around, the boy's eyes widened at how quick this costume change was.

Thin wooden house props were shown with a boy in front of each one, the only other feature being a small square piece that was cut from the top of each house to look like a window.

Each window frame was aggressively opened with the doorbell sound effect and Keiji had to cough to cover up his snort, the action receiving many looks from around him.

Even though there was a small moment of humour, seeing you dressed up in a very glam style was incredibly fulfilling to him. He watched amazed as always at the full stage, other cast members dancing around synchronized, it was hard to believe you were all only high schoolers.

And when the number ended Keiji chuckled at the number of students scampering off stage, specifically third years. The curtain had reopened very slowly this time, a low, soft harmonizing from the juniors up front, clad in white graduation gowns.

Cheers erupted at the sight, "Ladies and gentlemen, our seniors," The head theatre club teacher introduced, 8 of you walking to the front, differentiated by black and gold gowns. You stood lined up to his seat.

The teacher began to reveal the recipents of the top music school's scholarships, joking around with other students that had passed until the attention had landed on you.

"Now I believe a graduate who has a decision to make, Ms. [Last Name]," With a sharp exhale you stepped up the stage, only a few centimeters away from the edge.

"I've chosen music and dance," Cheers erupted, Keiji smiling up at you, "But I've also chosen archery, the Central Tokyo University offers me both. But most importantly I've chosen the person who inspires my heart,"

Throwing a pink rose at your boyfriend from the stage you pointed a hand at him, "Only 12 kilometers away from you, Akaashi Keiji, captain of the Fukurodani boys volleyball team, Atama University, Literature, Psychology, and Art Management,"

Applause headed through out and your often level-headed lover was now sinking slightly into their chair, hiding their face while maintaining eye contact with you. The wildest grin on his face and when the show was finally over, he was the one to smother you before you could leap into him.

As the two of you embraced each other he kissed your temple, "Thank you, thank you so much [Name]," You giggle into him, the fabric of your graduation gown making you slide down. "Of course Keiji"

Hajime Iwaizumi

You and your boyfriend stared at each other in disbelief. "Babe what the eff is going on?" He looked at you with an equally confused expression, "I don't know either,"

Behind the two of you laid a background of pink, hearts blooming everywhere and a large arch, bold letters glaring at both you and anyone who cared to watch, 'Aoba Johsai's Couple Contest" It read and you felt your eye twitch.

Since the floral club was fairly small apparently they had banded with the volleyball club to volunteer the two of you for the contest. While Hajime glared at Oikawa, you sent one to your club exec she gave you a sorry look with prayer hands, taking out her phone and showing it to you with large font on her screen.

'I'M SO SORRY [NICKNAME]-CHAN THE PRIZE WAS A 5000 YEN GIFT CARD FOR THE CLUB AND A PAID CLUB DINNER' Your eyes remained on her, lifeless and burning holes into her. Turning her phone, her thumbs frantically wrote one more thing.

'THE WINNING COUPLE GETS A 70 000 YEN GIFT CARD TO EVERY DEPARTMENT STORE IN MIYAGI AND 10 FREE TICKETS TO ANY BOOTH HERE' reading that part you straightened up and sent a reluctant thumbs up, the members of your club sighing with a hand to their chests'.

The volleyball club however didn't seem to have as much luck with their vice-captain who was mouthing curses and shaking his fists at them. Gently placing a hand on his bicep "Hey babe, if we win we get to have a chicken and burger party, and a 70 000 yen gift card to every department store in Sendai, and also get to go to 10 booths for free, I could get that ducky plushie I saw."

His brows furrowed at first but then nodded, your eyes sparkling at the thought of going shopping and the duck you had gotten attached to. He nodded with pursed lips, "Ok, we'll do it, let's do our best ok?" You nodded with a smile.

He leaned in towards your head before being aware of his surroundings and taking a step back, the volleyball boys making teasing noises at him.

You could see his veins popping and stopped him with an arm, turning to the boys you looked at them with a smile. A smile that wasn't persay necessarily kinda, moreso 'do you want to know what happens if you continue to act like monkeys?'

Shuddering they took a step back, bowing at you. Before anything else could occur, the announcer took place, "Welcome everyone to the Aoba Johsai couple contest, the winning couple will win a meal for their club, 5000 yen, a 70 000 yen gift card to every department store in Sendai, and 10 tickets to all booths at our annual school festival!"

Cheers rang out and you and Hajime turned around to the other couples, staring at each other jaw-dropped at the sights around you. High school couples were cuddling each other, exchanging kisses and leaning on each other. To say the least both of you were shocked at their shameless PDA.

"O-oh sh-should we or?" You asked confused if you two should be following their lead, awkwardly the two of you tried to hug, your arm sort of flailing around each other and rotating a few times. Out of embarrassment you just shook hands with thumbs up as if you just contracted to be a brand ambassador.

Your clumsiness in public romance however was saved by the MC "Our first event will be the all time favourite bridal style endurance challenge, our contestants will carry their partners in a wedding style fashion for 5 minutes, if they drop their partner they will be eliminated"

The big timer on the screen began to countdown 10 seconds and you stretched your legs slightly getting ready for them to be slightly cramped. At the beep you were scooped up and just like before you had blank faces, your hands covering your face out of self-consciousness.

Hajime was narrating for you, "The basketball team and chess club lost, the poetry club as well, actually they lasted longer than I thought they would, their legs were shaking the entire time."

"The mechanics club, actually the camping club just lost, I thought they would've won since you know they're always carrying equipment, oh they just started fat shaming each other, the light rock band is doing pretty good, so is the soccer team, the fencing club, and the theater club is doing well. The home economics club is shaking but they're still in-"

Your boyfriend was cut off by the MC "Come on volleyball club, floral arrangements club, show some more love!" You felt your eye twitch and with a shaky smile you made a finger heart Hajime snorted at.

"Stop this is so embarrassing where is that gift card, I wanna go home." "I'm actually enjoying this dear," He teased and you groaned into your hands.

A beep signaled that the event was over. "Congratulations to the soccer club, volleyball and floral adjacent, theater club, debate team, home ec, and light rock band for remaining, now we'll have a representative from each couple come and pick a mystery bag.

Waiting for everyone to pick a bag you took the last one and scurried over to Hajime, opening it, the two of you stared at what was in it, both of your heads tilting.

"WELCOME TO OUR SECOND CHALLENGE, OUR COUPLES WILL BE DRESSING EACH OTHER UP AND TAKING PHOTOS IN THE MAKESHIFT PHOTOBOOTH PROVIDED BY THE ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY CLUB, AUDIENCES WILL THEN VOTE FOR THE TOP THREE CUTEST PICTURES, WHICH COUPLE HAS BAG ONE?"

The light rock club raised their hands and went in. "Tiaras, gloves, earrings, ooh scepter, rings, necklaces, which colour do you want?" Squinting at the contents of the bag, then to the screen, then to Oikawa he sighed, "Uh, the blue one? I don't think purple suits me." You nodded, separating the two colours so it'd be easier to put on.

"OUR FIRST COUPLE IS RETURNING, COUPLE WITH BAG NUMBER TWO PLEASE GO TO THE ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY CLUB." The debate team went to the back of stage and you and Hajime whispered to each other on what poses you would do, "Heart" "Heart, kiss?"

You pursed your lips, unsure if you'd be comfortable with that much PDA, "Ok kiss on cheek, confetti," His brows furrowed, unsure if it would be too messy. For some reason the debate team came out pretty quickly, satisfied looks on their faces. "Oh" You two shared, assuming the worst.

"OUR THIRD COUPLE" The soccer club and manager began to go in, smirking at you two as you stood cluelessly and just as they disappeared the boy who's name you couldn't remember for the life of you sliced his neck and stuck out his tongue at Hajime.

You made a question mark with your fingers and he shrugged although you could see a vein of his popping out. Gently reaching out to his hand you patted it, similar to how a grandma would after giving you candy.

The theater club went in and you two followed as they exited. "[Last name]-senpai," "Oh Chiyo-chan?" You questioned at your kouhai, "I'm helping with the art club, I designed the frames," Laughing endearingly at her enthusiasm, you ruffled her hair. "That's pretty cool Chiyo, do you think you could make confetti and throw it on us for the last photo," She threw a thumbs up at you and you pressed your thumb to hers.

"Iwaizumi-san, [Lastname]-san-" "Stop being so formal Takahiro" You warned, Hajime leaning against your hand as he tried to grab at his teammate.

He simply stuck his tongue out at your boyfriend before turning to you, "You two can choose from 4 frames and 6 frames, you can choose your frame design with [Name]'s kouhai, we'll give you 3 minutes to get ready since you guys have the most intricate costume, I'll buy you ramen after this Iwaizumi," He apologized and left to talk with the photographer.

Taking out the tiara from the bag you placed it on your crouched boyfriend's head, giggling at him, "You look very pretty my love" You teased and he rolled his eyes, clasping the plastic necklace on you. Having gotten used to you constantly adjusting your hair, he brushed it away with fingers and placed the purple tiara on your head, you clipped the earrings to him.

Almost done you passed him blue gloves and began to wear purple ones. Both of you holding onto plastic scepters with your respective colours in the middle of hearts.

You gave your boyfriend a little twirl, touching your scepter to his, "You look cute" He commented, tipping your tiara back in place. "Ok couple 5 how many frames would you like, 6 ok please stand on the X marked in front of the camera" You snickered at Hajime's face when Hanamaki had answered for the two of you without even looking.

"WAIT IWAIZUMI WHAT ARE YOU WEARING" He began chortling at the sight of the tough volleyball vice captain in a blue gemmed tiara and earrings. It came to an end though when you threw the bag at his face, "Shut it Takahiro," "Sorry ma'am, no wonder you two got together" He muttered at your violence.

The first two photos were the given heart hands hugging, his cheek pressed close to yours as you both spelled the camera. He then leaned in to kiss your cheek, his ears tinged red and you laughed at his reaction, your arms hanging off of his shoulders.

As a joke you pretended to propose with the little blue heart ring and he faked surprise. In the next photo the two of you were showing off your heart rings to the camera.

And as per to your request Chiyo threw confetti, well cut up pieces of tissue paper, at the two of you as Hajime spun you. Hanamaki whispered something to cameraman who was also pink in the face, having been talking to the club member next to him about how this was the type of stuff to only be shown in romance mangas or dramas.

"We're gonna go for 4 more extra photos in case you want to replace any." Hajime sent a thumbs up to Hanamaki as you were trying to clean up the confetti with a random broom.

Kicking the broom away, your boyfriend grabbed you by your legs and you held onto his chest to steady yourself, your other sceptered hand holding onto your tiara, a surprised expression on your face and a grin on his.

After calming down you asked Hanamaki for any plushy and the camera man offered a dog plush he won at a booth. Kicking your boyfriend away you placed the dog plush on the floor after doing a lot of wiping on it and pretended to use magic on it.

Returning it you dragged your boyfriend back into frame, pointing your wand at him this time and he kissed your forehead. Bending he motioned for you to get on, he piggy backed you, the soles of your shoes pointed at the camera and so was the wand, however, you kissed Hajime's cheek this time, one of his hands squishing your cheeks mockingly.

Jumping off you ran over to Chiyo while Hanamaki, the cameraman, and the cameraman's friend clapped for a blushing Iwaizumi. "Did they come out ok Chiyo?" You asked, your cheeks warm as the realization of what happened coming back to you.

"Sorry senpai, I kinda chose everything for you since I know you so well," Quirking an eyebrow at her you motioned for her to at least show you the frame designs. Scrolling on her tablet you complimented her skills.

"Oh this one's pretty Chichi," You pointed to a frame with pink, blue, and purple mixing while ribbons, hearts, and flowers were scattered around. "See I told you I know what you like senpai," Rolling your eyes you patted her back, "You did well, thanks for your hard work Chiyo," She wrapped her arms around your waist, "Anything to witness romance up close"

You rolled your eyes, taking off everything except for the tiara, Hajime was doing the same thing except he kept the ring, "We're married now I have to show people that," You furrowed your brows but went along with it, keeping yours.

Now that you were all finished, a few of the other couples kept their accessories on, a few with matching headbands and sunglasses. "NOW THAT OUR LAST COUPLE HAS RETURNED LET'S START WITH OUR VOTING, WHILE OUR COUPLES WERE BUSY DOING THE MISSION WE HANDED OUT CLICKERS. WHEN YOU WANT TO VOTE JUST CLICK THE BUTT. ON, YOU CAN ONLY VOTE TWICE,"

You sort of zoned everything out, simply staring at the screen rather than the audience. The first couple had matching bunny headbands, the second had matching berets and just as you assumed they were doing too much and Hajime's hand went to cover your eyes.

"Oh Lord," You heard him mutter at the screen change, apparently the Soccer team had Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde hats on and the audience loved it but they did kinda makeout at one point and so Hajime's hands remained over your eyes.

The other couples passed and you could finally see what was on the screen, it actually wasn't bad. Sure it was fun but you assumed they wouldn't turn out that great given you had been mostly goofing off together.

It was actually really cute and you marveled at how happy the two of you appeared. When it was official voting time after everyone was presented, you received printed copies of your photos. The 'extra' photos you had taken in case the others weren't the best were put into a larger 4 framed film. You smiled at them, "Hajime you look really handsome here" You pointed out where he was grinning at your surprised expression.

He smiled and nudged you, "Look it's a princess" He pointed to you changing him from a dog to a human. You pouted embarrassed before the photography club returned to take the photos to put in a bag for when you'd leave.

"Well then our audience has voted and the three couples that will stay are, in third place, the theater club with their matching sunglasses, in second place the volleyball club florist club adjacent who's chemistry we got to finally see, and in first place is our soccer club with their matching character hats. Other teams please exit through the back where the art and photography club will hand you participation bags.

You stood with your boyfriend, teetering back and forth trying to entertain yourself, the soccer club had looked at the two of you cockily but you just looked at them confused.

"FOR OUR LAST EVENT AND TO DETERMINE THE WINNING COUPLE AND CLUB OF, I'm too tired to repeat it again, ANYWAYS WE WILL DO THE INFAMOUS POCKY CHALLENGE, OUR TALLER CONTESTANTS WILL PUT THEIR HANDS BEHIND THEIR BACK AS OUR SHORTER ONES WILL TRY TO GET THE SMALLEST PIECE POSSIBLE OF POCKY!"

Your boyfriend held your forearm, "Babe try not to get greedy and eat all of it," You stuck your tongue out at him but agreed. As a student came to give you a pocky stick you thanked them and placed it in Hajime's mouth who's hands were placed behind his back.

With a hand covering your mouth you giggled at how he looked, pushing him down with your shoulder to match your height. "Ok everyone is ready BEGIN"

You held onto his shoulder, your ring clad hand holding his face, "STOP CHEWING" Hajime yelled at you and you rolled your eyes. "Do vou shink dish ish shamll enough" "Nor go a litle more" Your lips grazed and suddenly you frowned, "Eughh I von't vant to do PDA" You complained, before moving forward and biting.

You dropped the remaining biscuit in your hand, it could've honestly been mistaken for a crumb rather than the remanent of this challenge. The MC made their way to you, measuring it before giving up.

They went to the soccer couple before going back to you, "THE WINNER OF THE AOBA JOHSAI SCHOOL FESTIVAL CLUB COUPLE CONTEST IS THE VOLLEYBALL FLORIST ADJACENT CLUB" Cheers rang out from where the volleyball players were and you put the crumb back in your mouth.

"Really?" You simply shrugged before leaning into him, "Thanks Hajime but I'm never doing this again." A few students came up to the two of you, placing a sash over your shoulders and giving you clear files with the yen for the clubs, the gift cards, the meal party tickets, and tickets for the festivals booths.

You smiled at the gift card before smiling at your boyfriend, receiving a bag to place everything in, you looked at the participation and winner awards, two packs of pocky in each, a bottle of banana milk, your photos from earlier and a larger framed one as well as a few polaroids of that moment, and an Aoba Johsai test notebook.

"What is this?" You asked holding it up, but Hajime shrugged, grabbing your hand in his, "Come on I'll win the duck plush for you, it has a partner apparently" You giggled at his enthusiasm, walking away with him, the tiara and scepter were put in the bags for you to take home but the rings were still sitting on both of your ring fingers.

Tooru Oikawa

"Ok so just let it dry for 3 more minutes and it should be ok just don't touch it for 5 minutes from now ok? Our class pres has some candy when you exit so just tell her which one you want." You waved the girl at your station off, to be fair you were the only one really working at your class' attraction, of course everyone else was doing what they could but unfortunately you were the only one who could paint.

You began disinfecting the brushes you just used, even if everyone you met didn't have it, you were scared of being liable for passing on ringworm in any way. You dried the last set of brushes for your next client? As the curtain was pushed open you greeted the next student without looking, "Hello," This time a more masculine voice greeted you.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink," You smiled at him, "Dou you have any electrolytes?" He asked and you pulled a few from the cooler beside you, "We have grapes, citrus, white peach, guava, and strawberry lemonade." "Can I have a white peach?"

You put the rest back and popped open the bottle, placed a straw and placed it in front of him. Grabbing a book you opened it to let him know what options he had, "We have flowery and butterfly like designs here, character and animal designs, smaller ones, fantasy like ones, ones that resemble tattoos, more makeup like ones."

Flipping through them he quirked his lips while you took out a few palettes and add-ons. "Could you free-hand but with this style?" You looked and nodded, "Do you want to add anything else, we have metallic paints, pearls, gems, glitter, and shells."

"Just surprise me, all the girls have been raving about your work so," You nodded and began to activate the paint. Passing him a headband you pointed to his bangs and he slipped it on. "Is there any part of your face you're uncomfortable with being touched?" "I'm fine with anything but lips, I'd rather yours touch those."

You stared at him confused, eyes going back and forth between your paint and his face, "Um, huh?" Embarrassed he hid his face, "NOTHING I AM SO SORRY," Awkwardly you patted his shoulder, "Um I need you to look up to you know paint your face."

He looked up with a red face, not knowing what to do with the complexion change you held a hand-held fan up to him to try and cool him, offering the drink as well. "I'm so sorry please continue,"

You nodded and dipped a sponge in a blue, green, and turquoise, wiping the excess on the back of your hand, you diluted it and then began to pat on his face, holding the back of his jaw with two fingers. Going over his eyes, his nose bridge, over his eyebrows, and lower to his cheeks.

Dabbing it, you dipped a new sponge into orange, purple, pink, and yellow and dabbed it in smaller portions with more saturation. Satisfied you took out a brush and dipped it in white, holding onto his face as you carved out parts of his face with intricate lining, the corner of your lip bit in concentration.

Fluttering his eyes open while you worked on his forehead he stared at you. He wasn't completely sure who you were, you were often in the art room during break periods, he'd see you running in the halls with a half tied ribbon hanging off your neck, some sort of new colour in your hair.

The proximity caused his ears to blush, your lips were right above him, your delicate fingers gently brushing his cheeks as you'd move his face and his eyes shut close again, what he couldn't tell was that you were also slightly flustered.

You were so close to the boy you could smell his shampoo which was honestly slightly distracting because it was a bit strong but you could tell it was at least not a 5 in 1.

Tucking your hair behind your ear you exhaled through your nose as you finally got all the tiny detailed lines out of the way. "Would you like something to eat?" "Uh, yeah on the sweeter side." "Is hard candy ok?"

And he gave a thumbs up while is eyes remained closed. Tearing the wrapper you held the candy by his lips and pushed it, your fingers just lightly grazing his lips, nonchalantly throwing the wrapper away and returning to your work.

"Um, is it ok if you pass me the white peach, I'm sorry I'm thirsty," "No it's alright." And as your sorted through the gems and pearls you held the straw up to his lip and flustered Oikawa drank, opening one of his eyes to see what was happening.

You were holding the drink in one hand for him and again focused, it was kind of endearing for him, you were so committed to your craft and expressions of concentration made him want to smother you in affection which didn't make much sense for the boy, you two barely know each other so why did he feel like if he got up he'd trip over himself.

"Ok I'm almost done, thank you for being so patient, I just have to add last minute details. Rubbing some highlighter on your middle finger, you applied it on the parts you wanted to be focused, under the eyes and where the background colour was heaviest.

You then stuck the pearls and pale blue gems under his eyes. Taking off his headband, you fixed his hair and held up a mirror, staring at him, waiting for his reaction.

He stared at his reflection, the mix of colour in the background looked like light radiating off onto him and the intricate lines ontop replicated a soft image of wings but the bottom of each wing sort of faded and blurred and spiraled almost like mist, the shimmer brought attention back to his eyes and so did the small gems, almost as if he were the personification of a sea maiden or the beautiful goddesses told in the stories his older sister used to tell him.

"Woah, how much does this cost," "It's free since it's a school event" You winked with your tongue sticking out of your lips slightly at the corners and a thumbs up. Grabbing a tissue he wrote something down ferociously, "Please let me repay you then, you can choose where to go as well,"

"It's a date" You winked before folding it carefully but as you were about to give him instructions about what to do after so it wouldn't smudge he disappeared. As you felt the small bump in your pocket you slumped in your chair, steam radiating off of your flustered figure.

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unpopularwriter25 · 4 months

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Rainy Day Serenity

Summary: On a rainy day, Giyuu finds you curled up with a book by the window. Without saying a word, he joins you, bringing a warm blanket and gently pulling you into his lap. As the rain pours outside, you both share a peaceful, intimate moment, wrapped in each other's warmth and the soothing sounds of the rain. Through soft conversation and the quiet comfort of each other's presence, you both find solace and love in the tranquility of the rainy evening.

Warnings: None. Just pure fluff.

The rain was pouring heavily outside, the rhythmic patter against the roof creating a soothing symphony that filled the small cottage. You were curled up in your favorite armchair by the window, a thick book in your hands. The scent of damp earth and fresh rain wafted through the slightly open window, mingling with the faint aroma of the herbal tea you had made earlier. The soft glow of the lamp beside you cast a warm light, contrasting the cool, gray world outside.

Lost in the pages of your book, you barely noticed Giyuu entering the room. His silent presence was a familiar comfort, like the whisper of the wind through the trees. He stood for a moment, watching you with a gentle expression, the corners of his lips quirking up ever so slightly. Without a word, he approached, carrying a thick, woolen blanket.

You looked up just as he reached you, and he gave you a small nod, as if to ask for permission. Before you could respond, he gently pulled you up from the chair. You blinked in surprise but didn’t resist, letting him guide you. Giyuu settled into the spot you had just vacated and, with a quiet strength, pulled you down into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in warmth as he draped the blanket over both of you.

“Comfortable?” he asked softly, his breath tickling your ear.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face as you snuggled against him. “Very.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the rain continuing its steady dance outside. The soft sound of pages turning was the only interruption, blending seamlessly with the rain. You felt Giyuu’s steady heartbeat against your back, each beat a reassuring reminder of his presence.

“You were really absorbed in that book,” Giyuu murmured after a while, his voice low and soothing.

“Yeah,” you replied, showing him the cover. “It’s a new mystery novel. Really gripping.”

Giyuu hummed in response, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm through the blanket. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

You turned slightly to look at him, meeting his calm, deep eyes. “What about you? How was your day?”

“Training was intense,” he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “But seeing you like this makes it worth it.”

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “You’re such a softie, Giyuu.”

A faint blush colored his cheeks, and he looked away, pretending to be interested in the rain. “Only for you.”

The rain continued to fall, a gentle backdrop to your shared warmth. The scent of rain and earth mixed with the soft smell of Giyuu’s clothing, a comforting blend that made you feel safe and cherished.

“Do you like the rain?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Giyuu nodded slowly. “It’s calming. Reminds me that even after the darkest storms, there’s always a renewal.”

You leaned back into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. “I like that. It’s like us, isn’t it? Finding peace together, no matter what.”

He tightened his hold on you slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Yes, exactly like that.”

The two of you continued to sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the soft cocoon of the blanket. The rain was your symphony, the room a sanctuary of peace and love. No words were needed; the quiet moments spoke volumes.

As the evening wore on and the rain began to lessen, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. Giyuu’s presence was a steady anchor, his silent strength a constant comfort. You closed your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the moment lull you into a state of perfect tranquility.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible over the rain.

Giyuu’s arms tightened around you, his voice a gentle promise in your ear. “And I love you.”

In that cozy, rain-kissed room, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the moment, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

#anime #fandom #fanfic #writing #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer zenitsu #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer inosuke #demon slayer tanjiro #demon slayer anime #short drabble #demon slayer #drabble #fluff #toothachingfluff #anime writers #giyuu tomioka #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu x reader

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lightningidle · 2 years

Photo

Drew myself a little comfort Riz; may he bring you comfort too.

DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST

[Image description: Riz Gukgak, a teenage goblin boy, sits sideways in a yellow barrel chair with one leg thrown over the arm of the chair. He has unkempt, curly hair and both arms are covered in random tattoos about the Nightmare King. He’s reading a book and wears a black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, a mismatched pair of socks (one purple and one with the aromantic flag pattern) and wears half of a best friends necklace. His hands are covered in scars. The outline of a circle is behind his head, reminiscent of a stylized halo. The artist’s signature LightningIdle is under the chair. /end id]

#Riz Gukgak #Dimension 20 #Fantasy High #dimension 20 fantasy high #d20 fh #d20 fhsy #d20 fanart #aroace #my art #trying my hand at this ID thing so please let me know where I can improve!#hc that Riz doesn't read fiction bc he has the same stinkbrain I do re: feeling guilt anytime he's not being 'productive enough'#so the book is probably work related

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keqism · 2 years

Text

⎯⎯ 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⊰

.࿔ feat. xiao + gn. reader

.࿔ premise. letters from the heart are always written in gold.

.࿔ cw. fluff, college au, meet cute, a single virginity joke

.࿔ notes. utterly in love with xiao, please come scream about him with me

Despite popular belief, the library is never silent.

It's a muted cacophony of rustling pages, the creaking of chairs, and the occasional soggy sneeze from the unfortunate soul who caught the latest virus on campus. But fortunately for you, it's the right amount of noise needed to focus. You're tucked away into the back corner, notebooks hazardously strewn across the table. Your only companion is a lukewarm cup of iced coffee, condensation running down the sides and forming a puddle that threateningly inches toward your papers.

Today, the library is unusually empty; the seats at your table are vacant. It's a blessing to you—fewer eyes to witness your silent paroxysm of stress. With multiple deadlines approaching (underlined in three different colors in your agenda), you can feel the exhaustion catching up to you. It's your fault, really, for procrastinating. But in your book, the early bird doesn't get the worm, and things turn out better with a deadline chasing after you.

Nevertheless, procrastination or not, the stress was taking a toll on your mind, and as you slam your head against the table in frustration, you feel tears well up in your eyes.

Amidst your breakdown, you hear timid footsteps approach your corner and look up, forehead aching from hitting your head against the table. The sight in front of you takes your breath away.

The boy before you is beautiful.

Snowflakes litter his hair like powdered sugar on dark chocolate, dampening the dark strands. Large hands awkwardly grip the straps of his backpack as he lingers in front of you, burrowing his nose into his emerald green scarf as a cold draft comes in from the windows. The only part of his face left unhidden are his eyes: golden, lined with dark lashes and a light dusting of red eyeshadow—golden eyes that now meet your gaze.

You feel your heart skip a beat. And then it skips another beat when he speaks.

"Can I sit here?" he mumbles, gesturing towards the empty seat across from you. You nod, scrambling to gather your haphazard mess of papers and frantically push them onto your side of the table. Something fragrant floods your senses as he sits down; soft notes of vanilla and amber drown out the dusty smell of the library, clearing the fog in your head. Taking a sip from your watered-down coffee, you watch as he pulls his laptop out of his bag, a myriad of colorful neon sticky notes covering its gray exterior. You sneak a brief look at them.

"Email Prof. Zhongli back ASAP"

"Lunch with Kazu and me tomorrow 2PM, don't forget!! — the better friend >:)" (scribbled in glittery purple ink)

"XIAO YOU THIEF DID YOU TAKE MY POETRY BOOK??"

The last note makes you choke on your coffee, an unattractive cough escaping your lips. Golden eyes glance up in surprise, but concern quickly melts into amusement when he sees your shoulders shake with laughter. You awkwardly clear your throat and duck your head behind your laptop screen. But curiosity eats away at you, and when you peer up at him, you see his cheeks flush red and a small smile curve on his lips.

Something in your stomach flutters.

His name is Xiao, you later learn, and you know exactly three things about him.

ONE

An intricate pattern of green decorates his right arm, but it's usually kept hidden in the sleeve of his sweatshirt. You've seen it exactly once, when the air conditioning in the library broke one day. Xiao had grudgingly shed his jacket when the heat got unbearable, leaving him in just a white T-shirt.

You could have sworn that the temperature in the room got hotter when you caught sight of the green ink.

TWO

Every Tuesday, his friends accompany him to the library—not to study, it seems, but to serve as a distraction for both you and Xiao. The one who sits to his left is Venti, and also who you consider the library's worst nightmare. Rather than working, he chooses to talk Xiao's ear off and scroll through his phone. But although he glares at Venti during the entirety of their stay, you can tell that Xiao doesn't really mind his presence.

To his right sits Kazuha, literature major and Xiao’s roommate. Unlike Venti, he's rather quiet, spending his time scribbling in an incredibly worn-down notebook, leaving you wondering what stories he could be weaving within its covers. He's pretty, you think. If you weren't enamored by Xiao, you would have gone after him.

They're an odd mix but it somehow works: Kazuha proofreads everyone's papers (and nearly loses his mind when he sees Xiao's). When Xiao and Kazuha are visibly stressed, it's Venti who pesters them until the tension in their shoulders relaxes. And when Kazuha's just about had it with Venti, Xiao's the one who holds him back until he calms down.

In your opinion, they're quite entertaining to watch, albeit a little distracting.

THREE

Despite his aloof exterior, Xiao is endearingly shy.

You've never had a proper conversation with him; a small nod and a smile are sufficient enough for both of you. But as the months slowly pass by, he comes out of his shell—like a stray cat, you muse.

Behind his stern gaze and intimidating aura, Xiao is sweet and attentive. When you caught a nasty cold during exam season, he made sure to pack a box of tissues just for you. When your stomach makes embarrassing noises in the evenings, he slides a granola bar across the table without a word. And once, when you accidentally fell asleep with your nose buried in a textbook, you woke up hours later to a familiar sweatshirt tucked under your head and a note stuck on your laptop screen that read "good luck on your exams, you can do this".

You tucked the note into your nightstand later that day.

Your friendship isn't one-sided, though. Your fancy highlighters always end up on his side of the table, colorful ink decorating his neat handwriting. When his phone dies (and it often does; it's rather old) and his eyes pleadingly look your way, you're already handing your portable charger to him. Oftentimes, your extra hair tie makes its way from your bag and into his messy hair, holding the strands up into a bun. And on some days, Xiao arrives at the library to find a cup of coffee waiting for him at his seat—iced caramel macchiato with extra vanilla syrup.

Slowly, something more than a friendship blooms—something filled with quick, bashful glances and soft smiles. And although the warm, fluttering feeling in your chest is hard to ignore, the two of you are too shy to address it.

Today is different, though.

He's late—it's a quarter after six when Xiao scurries into the library. And instead of sitting across from you like he usually does, he slumps into the chair next to you.

You watch the flustered boy pull his laptop out, your brows furrowing in confusion when you notice the lack of the usual obnoxiously vibrant sticky notes stuck onto the lid. Instead, there's a single blue square covered in writing.

"You can do it Xiao!!"

"OUR BABY XIAO GREW SOME BALLS"

"RIP to Xiao's virginity!!"

The last note was furiously scribbled out in black ink.

Today feels different because Xiao appears to be very nervous: his left knee bounces under the table, jolting against the leg of his chair. A sheen of sweat beads on his forehead and he refuses to make eye contact with you—even when you wave hello.

"Hi," you smile. He nervously meets your gaze for a second before glancing away, mirth glittering in your eyes like the sun's reflection in the summer sea.

"Hello," he mutters, and he attempts to smile back, although he's sure it looks more like a grimace. He awkwardly clears his throat, raking his hands through his hair while he tries to collect himself.

"Xiao, are you okay?" you ask, and he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, knocking your cup of coffee all over the desk.

"Oh," he gasps, scrabbling to save his laptop and your papers from the growing puddle of caffeine. You mop up the spill with some spare napkins and try to reassure him, but your words fall on deaf ears.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," he stammers. "I was going to ask you out but I got nervous and—"

Realizing what he was saying, he snaps his mouth shut in embarrassment and slams his head against the desk, cradling his head in his arms and praying to every deity to erase his existence while you hold back your laughter. Xiao is usually ever so composed; seeing him so flustered is rather endearing.

A soft touch to the back of his hand interrupts his prayers, startling him. He peeks out from the protection of his arms to see a pink sticky note stuck to his skin. You're smiling, and the sight is enough to feed the butterflies in his stomach. The setting sun bathes the room in a soft golden glow; time feels like molten honey as Xiao slowly reads the note.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

if it's hard to talk, we can always text :)

Something in him warms at the sight of your handwriting, and he finally looks up to meet your eyes. A real, genuine smile dances on his lips, and he hears your breath catch.

Golden eyes always looked prettier under the sun, after all.

.࿔ notes. big thank you to aly, kyo, and xin for beta reading!!

#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin impact fluff #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao fluff #genshin impact x reader #xiao x you #genshin impact

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kkanabel · 19 days

Text

caffeine addiction - chapter 11

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! + Fashion? AU

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~2.8k

One espresso shot at a time turned into three shots of espresso at a time, but it was all being downed by you. Both you and Bakugou were currently in the back room of the Kindeki store next door for your daily work after your shift at the coffee shop, which Bakugou had to hire more employees for. The coffee shop was currently bustling– next door was loud and filled with chatter of something along the lines of “When will they be back?”

The cork boards on the walls were covered from top to bottom in a spread of photos of Gothic Architecture– rib vaults, flying buttresses, and elaborate tracery all framing stained glass windows. Papers with designs, patterns, and sketches were sprawled all over the mahogany desks. A couple of these papers had coffee stains on them. Bakugou leaned back in his chair with a sigh, flinching when the pencil tucked behind his ear fell behind him onto the polished marble ground with a thunk. You drank the last of your iced espresso shot before picking up the fallen pencil and placing your sketchpad onto Bakugou’s brown corduroy-clad lap.

Bakugou in his zone was truly something to admire. He wore blue light glasses when researching online to reduce strain in his eyes, but did they suit him well. It was a blessing to see him in these moments– all focused while sketching up a storm– pencil lead all over his fingers from blending the graphite onto the paper. “Dramatic, but not overwhelming…” He’d mutter while taking a picture from the cork board and using it as a reference for a pair of pants. Each stroke of his pencil was so easy and well-practiced, making it look easy. He could transform something from his mind onto paper and then fabric like it was made for him– and it was. Red eyes narrowed in on a small imperfection on the paper, and it would disappear like it never existed.

The entire day was filled with espresso shot after the other– and after that were your brainstorming sessions with Bakugou. Deep plums and jewel tones paired with blacks and grays offset with metallics filled the room along with intricate lace that you spent days designing yourself. The room was filled with a litany of different cloths and fabrics– some stiff and some flowy. Combining luxurious, draping fabrics with strong silhouettes that emphasize shoulders, cinched waists, and long, flowing elements reminiscent of Gothic cathedrals’ towering height with intricate embroidery mimicking Gothic rose windows and lace patterns that resemble wrought-iron gates.

You work on embroidery that mimics the stained glass windows of 12th century cathedrals, ensuring symmetry in the embroidery and a touch of asymmetry in the silhouette to imitate the cathedral as a whole. You’re planning on putting actual pieces of glass onto the dress’ corset later.

You take a step back and stand over the desk, arms crossed, eyeing the latest design Bakugou just sketched out. The jacket’s sharp, angular lines mimic the Gothic arches you’ve been obsessing over for weeks, but something feels off. “It’s too… aggressive,” you say, tilting your head. “We’re going for structured, but this feels like it’s about to stab someone.” “Tch. It’s Gothic. It’s supposed to look like it could stab someone,” Bakugou retorts, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You said ‘sharp,’ and that’s what you’re getting.” Rolling your eyes, you grab the pencil from his hand and start redrawing the shoulder lines, softening the angles just slightly. “I meant sharp in a stylish way. Not like... this is going to start a fight in the conference room.” Bakugou snorts, watching you make adjustments. “Isn’t that the whole point of fashion? Making people talk, starting shit?”

You pause for a moment, considering his words. “Okay, maybe. But I want them to talk about how good it looks, not how dangerous it is to wear.” “Some people like danger,” he quips, raising an eyebrow at you with a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you’re just scared to take risks.” “Risks?” You turn to him with a raised brow. “I’m the one embroidering literal stained glass into a dress. If anything, you’re the one playing it safe.” Bakugou leans in a little, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, yeah? I’d say I’m taking a pretty big risk working with someone who can’t even keep up with me.” You backup a little and scoff, ignoring the way your heart clenches at his teasing tone. “Please. I’m doing the hard part here. You just scribble a couple lines and call it a day.” His toothy grin widens, and he nudges the sketchpad toward you. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do the pants, too?”

“Because I’m not trying to show off like you,” you say, pushing the pad back at him. “But if you need my help, just say the word.” Bakugou chuckles lowly. “Help? You wish. You just wanna see me sweat.” His eyes flit down to your lower face for a split second. You blink, not catching the double meaning in his words. “What? No, I just… ugh, whatever. Just finish the damn pants.” You check a nearby mirror to make sure you don’t have anything in your teeth– why was he looking there? He leans back, folding his arms behind his head, watching as you turn back to your embroidery. “You’re cute when you get all flustered.” “Flustered?” you mutter, not really paying attention. “I’m not flustered. I’m just trying to fix your mess.”

Bakugou chuckles again, the sound low and teasing. “Whatever you say, princess.” You pause but brush it off, assuming he’s just being his usual cocky self. “Just focus, Bakugou. I don’t want to be stuck here all night.” He smirks to himself, watching you concentrate on the embroidery, completely oblivious to the small ways he’s been trying to get under your skin. “Yeah, yeah. But don’t worry—you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Rolling your eyes, you get back to work at your station. Your fingers glide over luxurious fabric, testing the weight, the drape. The wool you chose for the structured blazer clings to your fingertips, sturdy yet pliant under your touch. "It's still missing something," you mumble, tracing a pattern you’ve yet to commit to paper. Beside you, Bakugou furrows his brow, lost in his sketchbook, muttering half-formed ideas. The soft scratch of his pencil across the page fills the air, almost rhythmic, like a second heartbeat in the room. “Do you think we need a stronger contrast here?” you ask, holding up a swatch of deep plum silk next to the black jacquard fabric that’s been frustrating you all day.

He glances up, blue light glasses sliding down his nose. “It’ll look washed out. Try a metallics to bring out the color,” he suggests, eyes flicking back down to his sketch without waiting for a response. It’s so casual, so assured. He doesn’t doubt himself—not for a second—and the way his hands move from sketch to reference, it’s infuriating how easily his mind works through these problems.

Meanwhile, your sketchbook is a mess of crossed-out lines and question marks, drafts discarded before they even make it to the final page. You flip through your notes, eyeing the reference photos pinned to the corkboard. Flying buttresses and towering arches loom in the background, begging to be translated into the clean lines of a suit or a dress.

“I think I’ve got it.” You grab your sketchpad, pulling it back onto your lap. Sharp, structured lines—just like pointed arches—make their way onto the page. Your pencil flies, inspired. “This! Like pointed arches! Sharp, structured, but with curves!” you exclaim, waving the sketch in Bakugou’s direction.

He stops long enough to glance over. “Not bad,” he grunts, but his fingers twitch toward your sketchpad. “Let me fix the angle here. And you need a stronger taper at the waist.” Before you can protest, he’s taken your design and made a few deft adjustments that somehow elevate the whole thing.

You watch in begrudging admiration as he perfects it effortlessly. Each stroke of his pencil adds depth, structure—it's flawless, and somehow, irritatingly so. There’s no denying it: Bakugou was born to do this.

You bite back the jealousy that nags at you, pushing yourself to sketch with renewed vigor. The stakes are high, and you’re not about to let him outshine you. Not when this collection—the fusion of Gothic splendor and cutting-edge business fashion—is yours just as much as his.

Your hand flies across the pages, the scratches of the pencil against paper mixed with the trills of music sung in Middle English to truly encapsulate the feeling of the medieval architecture you were emulating on paper.

Your hand cramps as you set the pencil down, finally satisfied with the latest design. The blazer dress, now meticulously sketched out with pointed arches forming elegant, sharp lapels, lies sprawled on the desk between the two of you. Bakugou leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, surveying his sketches with a critical eye.

“Looks like we’ve nailed the structure,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, which has grown messy from hours of working in silence. You nod, rubbing at your temples, the espresso shots from earlier starting to wear off. Just as you’re about to suggest a break, Bakugou’s phone lights up on the desk, buzzing incessantly. At first, he ignores it—he's been too immersed in perfecting the collection to care about any distractions. But the buzzing doesn't stop.

He frowns, picking up the phone. You can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that something’s up.

“What is it?” you ask, stretching your arms over your head.

“Tch. It’s my mom.” Bakugou’s expression shifts from mild annoyance to a mixture of confusion and disbelief as he scans through the string of notifications. He scrolls for a moment, and then his phone buzzes again, this time with a notification from the Masaki store’s account.

He glances up at you, his red eyes sharp. “Check your phone.”

A sense of unease curls in your stomach as you reach for your own device. The moment you unlock it, you see it—another flood of Instagram notifications, messages, and emails. All your social media apps are practically screaming for your attention. You swipe to your email, eyes widening as you scroll through the dozens—no, thousands—of pre-order confirmations. The Kindeki PR team has emailed you countless times– along with dozens of journalists asking for an interview.

“What the hell…” you whisper under your breath.

The notifications are relentless, and when you switch to Instagram, you finally understand. The Masaki Official account has posted the photo—the one from the café. The picture of you and Bakugou, mid-laugh, caught in a candid moment of camaraderie and partnership and… something else. The caption is simple but effective: “Fashion royalty at work. Coming soon: Masa x Kin x Deki collection.”

Your jaw drops as you read the comments beneath the photo.

“CUTEST COUPLE”

“fashion royalty fr… they a couple tho??”

“take all my money NOW.”

You scroll down further, but the app glitches momentarily, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of activity. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s Bakugou who breaks the silence first, reading from an email: “Sales are up by 65%. Pre-orders are through the roof.” You look up at him, wide-eyed, but he’s already dialing his mom. “Oi, what the hell did you post?” From behind you, another notification dings: Kindeki (aka your precious aunt) has just uploaded a behind-the-scenes video on the store’s Instagram. In the background, you hear a familiar cackle from Bakugou’s mom. You glance over at Bakugou, who catches your expression with an eye roll. “Looks like we’re not done yet.”

The clang of the last chair being stacked on the table echoed through the empty café, a quiet contrast to the buzzing streetlights outside. The Kindeki shop was already locked, but you followed Bakugou to his café to close. You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled down the metal shutter halfway. The day had been long—filled with both customers and creativity. Bakugou was wiping down the counter, his movements deliberate, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. The quiet was almost comforting after the frenzy of the day. “I’ll lock up,” Bakugou grunted, grabbing the keys from the hook. You nodded, moving to flip off the last few lights when suddenly, the distinct murmur of voices outside the window grew louder. You froze, glancing toward the front of the café. You swore you saw a flash of light from outside the shop for a split second.

“Bakugou… what’s that?” you asked cautiously, squinting through the glass door. He moved past you, standing close enough for you to catch the heat radiating off him as he squinted out into the street. A low grunt rumbled in his throat, and you followed his gaze. Outside, you could see them—reporters, camera flashes lighting up the dusk, a couple of people holding phones up, trying to capture any glimpse of movement inside. The soft murmur had turned into a low buzz of voices and questions being thrown into the air. “Great,” you muttered, “exactly what we need.” “Tch, of course they’d show up now.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, glaring at the crowd. “Stupid vultures.” He crossed his arms, muscles tensing as he glanced over at you. “Stay behind me.” He moved toward the door, his hand clenching around the keyring in his palm, eyes narrowed like he was already considering breaking some cameras. “Are we seriously doing this?” you asked, following him but keeping a slight distance. The last thing you wanted was your face on a hundred Instagram stories and all over news articles.

Bakugou glanced over his shoulder, his lips curving into a smirk. “What, scared of a little attention? You’re the one who wanted to be in fashion, remember?” You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort as he unlocked the door just enough to speak through the crack. “Shop’s closed,” he barked at the crowd, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. “Bakugou! Are you and her working on a new line together?” “What’s the inspiration for the upcoming season?” “Any truth to the rumors about your relationship?” You winced at the last question. Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “Back off,” he growled. “Get a damn life.” He slammed the door shut, locking it in one swift motion before turning to you. “We’re getting out of here.” You blinked. “And how, exactly, are we going to do that? They’re right outside.” His smirk widened, mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. “There’s two back exits, genius. You think I don’t plan for this kinda crap?”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you along. The café lights dimmed behind you as he led you through the narrow hallway toward the back door. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly, mingling with the faint buzz of reporters still stationed outside. Once outside, Bakugou paused, glancing around before pulling you along again. The back alley was empty, the cool night air brushing against your skin as the two of you hurried through the narrow path. The distant hum of the city faded slightly, replaced by the more familiar sounds of your breathing and Bakugou’s muttered complaints about the reporters. You exhaled in relief as you made it a few blocks away, the noise fading. “Guess we’re a hot topic now, huh?” Bakugou’s voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of pride in it. You shot him a look, shaking your head. “I didn’t sign up for this level of attention.” He shrugged, smirking as he crossed his arms. “Too late, princess. Fame comes with a price.” There was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he added, “You better get used to it.”

You were about to retort when you felt the heat of his gaze settle on you, a little too heavy, a little too intense. He took a step closer, just enough for you to notice the way his eyes lingered on yours, something unreadable in them. Before you could say anything, he dropped the teasing smirk and muttered, “I’ll protect you from those vultures. Grew up with it. But don’t expect me to be this nice all the time.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his voice. He turned and started walking ahead before you could respond, leaving you standing there, heart fluttering slightly as you tried to make sense of the tension in the air. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “we’ve got work to do tomorrow.” And just like that, the moment was gone, leaving you wondering how Bakugou could make your heart race with just a few words. As the two of you walked side by side, the city lights flickering above, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

a/n: we're back!

lol not beta read again please let me know if you see any typos or anything that's just like. wrong.

i had a looooot of trouble with writing this chapter bc describing clothing aint my best suit, but we're workin on it (thats why im writing this fic in the first place tbh) :> also, my taglist is open! thank you to @itztaki for being the first LOL-- just message me or comment on this if you'd like to be added!

thank you for reading & stay hydrated, y'all <3

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨ Taglist: @itztaki

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #reader insert #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #coffee shop au #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha au

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