#ill probably pick it up again tomorrow

[merthurians-prat-and-idiot]

Just watched the first two episodes! Had to stop myself from watching a third!! So good so far!!

[undyinglantern]

well now i know about the twins (wouldve liked to learn more about their teammates more than just the captain too though) but i still know next to nothing about mr germaphobe with the pretty curls

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bugsmoocher]

mmaster hcief

[theroseapothecary]

my immune system is apparently f u c k e d because i am sick once again that's literally every week for the past 4 weeks where i've had something i feel so shitty

[toastsnaffler]

nvm im too tired and overstimulated for this shit

[chososlilprincess]

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

[ltbunny]

Blind date with ex-husband price. It was like 4 peoples doing. It was your coworkers' yoga instructors, then the yoga instructors' supermarket bag boy and then his girlfriends who set up the date. How did we even get there?

Anyway, your dressed up, all pretty, excited to meet someone new. It's been a while since you've been on a date, a blind one at that, alot of guys take one look and either get too 'excited' or extremely deflated, both of them are horrible, but it's been a while since you've been on the scene after you finally got over your husband...

Annnndd, it's your ex. Fuck he looks good, fresh trim and his shoulders look so broad, he's wearing his 'going out, need to impress shirt'.. damn, he really wanted to appeal whoever his blind date was... maybe it's not to late to leave, he hasnt even no- oh.. his hand is on your lower back

"Sweetheart!" He smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes,

"John..." you acknowledge, looking up at him, "dont call me sweetheart."

"Sorry, love, bad habit."

You roll your eyes, but don't correct him. Is he doing it on purpose?

"Well, red bag," He smiles.

"Red tie," you respond

"So we're with each others company for the night then," He grins and looks at you, sheepishly, "well, that's if you want to continue the blind date?" He sounds hopeful...

He leads you to the table. Obviously, he pulls the chair out for you and gives you a bouquet of flowers, its only the gentlemanly thing to do, he says.

It starts off strained but you find yourself picking up the little things he does that you used to love, pointing out your favourite foods in the menu, listening intently to everything you say, stupidly lovey-dovey puppy eyes as he nods along, his hand on yours, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand, he even said some stupid line about 'me n u' and says soap put him up to it, fuck, you missed his laugh. You find yourself asking about the boys, work, it feels like you and price are just on a date night, like you two used to do before the divorce.

He walks you home at the end of the night, he started with hand holding, and now his arm is somehow around your waist, and he's closer than any ex-husband should be, really. When you get up to your apartment, he looks a little nervous,

"I'm not inviting you over for a nightcap, John."

"I know, love," he says smoothly, "just wondering... if it would be appropriate to end the night with a kiss,"

You feel a faint heat in your cheeks, unsure of what to do... after a few seconds, you nod, looking up at him. You feel his hand tentatively reach out for the back of your head, cradling it while he kisses you, you missed this, the tickle of his beard, his big hands on you, soft lips, soft kisses.

You can feel him actively try to hold back tongue, but the way you open your mouth slightly in the kiss makes him go for it immediately. You feel yourself melt. It's so desperate and carnal, but still so soft, like he doesn't want to push it, but it goes on longer than expected, neither of you really wanting to pull away, eventually you pull back, lips sore, heated faces, you wonder if you should withdraw the nightcap thing and just let him in.

"I had a lovely night, sweetheart, I... would really love to see you again." He says with a flushed face, his hand on your lower back again, going in circles.

"Me too, John."

"Text me, okay? We can go to that tex-mex place you really like, or somewhere fancier," he smiles softly, "I wanna see my woman happy."

"Not your woman, John."

"Yet." He says with a grin, leaning down and kissing you softly again, "thank you for giving this a chance, love, ill see you tomorrow, hopefully?"

You nod, and he walks home with a smile. Can't believe you had such a nice date with your ex-husband, thanks coworkers, yoga intructors, bag boys girlfriend...

(You probably wouldn't think it's so sweet if earlier you saw gaz in the back alley with bloody knuckles, after beating up the guy that was meant to be your date, texting price

'all done, sir.'

'Knew I could count on you, garrick.')

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 4 - LN

content warnings: fluff, angst, drama (the whole shabang).

ur girl is going back to working full time tomorrow so if we have slow updates blame my place of work. also, im still recovering from the 4am wakeup and lando p3

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

“max pick up the damn phone,” y/n said, taking great strides across the paddock towards the car park. once again, the phone call had gone to voicemail. she clicked his contact details, ringing him again. only this time, it didn’t even ring. the phone went straight to voicemail. and to add to the matter, max’s car had disappeared from the car park.

y/n sat on the empty floor of the empty parking spot her brothers car had been in, opening up her phone to check the time and send a message to max, she probably should’ve waited for the mix of fear and anger to fade, but here she was, tapping aggressively at the screen of her phone.

if you think you can ignore me forever, you’ve got another thing coming

dont think you can jump to conclusions and throw a childlike strop about this.

but of course, the messages stayed on delivered for hours. it was at least 2 hours before lando’s caller id popped up on her phone, still with no word from max.

“hey, where did you go? mum said something about you walking off,” lando asked her the moment she answered the call.

“currently? i’m sat on the floor of the car park. where are you - ill walk over now,” she said bluntly. he stayed on the line until she entered the mclaren unit.

“y/n? what do you mean max has left?” panic rising in his voice as she walked up to him, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

“i mean he’s left. gone. driven off,” she said with a shrug, “he won’t answer my calls, hasn’t read my texts, he’s just gone.”

“he might be at the hotel? we’ll drive over in a bit and see?”

“i don’t think we should do anything, i think we might have done enough damage for one day.”

“y/n your brother has just driven off. you should at least try and check if he’s at the hotel.”

“fine, but i’m going alone.”

“let me try and talk to him first, you never know something might’ve happened with P?” lando said, still stroking her hips softly, desperately trying to think of any reason that his best friend had up and left.

4 unanswered calls later, and lando and y/n found themselves sat on the sofa in his driving room again, her head laying on her lap as he stroked her hair, trying to resolve the anxiety.

“i don’t care what he thinks, y/n. i feel so strongly about you and i think i have for years.”

“i think i have too. but i hate the thought of people disliking me, let alone my own brother.”

“i know, angel. he’ll come around soon, i promise.”

“that man held a grudge against me for years when i accidentally scraped the side of his kart when i was 12,” she said, laughing sadly at the memory of their parents having to sit them down in the living room and make them apologise to each other. the moment was quickly interrupted by her phone ringing, max’s caller id popping up on the screen.

“ma-”

“no. don’t talk to me. you two have lied to my face for years about this. lando promised me he would never even think about you in that way. and you, i don’t know what ive done to you for you to go behind my back and fuck my best friend but it’s not on.”

“max i-” lando tried to reason with him.

“oh, of course he’s there. just waiting for the moment i left to start fucking my sister, didn’t you?”

“it’s not like that, max.”

“no? then what is it like? ‘cos from where im standing it’s pretty clear he’s been waiting years to take advantage of my little sister,” he argued down the phone, venom rolling off his tongue.

“take advantage of me?” she scoffed, moving to sit up and hold the phone next to her mouth, “who the fuck do you think you are to talk to or about me in that way? who gave you the audacity to believe you have any control over who i choose to date? you couldn’t care less about protecting me, you only care about protecting yourself," she said, her voice raising and her finger moving to point as if he were stood in front of her.

“he’s not right for you.”

“that’s your opinion max. if you can’t trust me, or lando for that matter, then why should i bother giving you a moment more to talk down to me?”

lando sat silently next to her, playing with his own fingers. this was not his fight to fight right now. he’d speak to max privately later, right now, he knew y/n needed to stand up for herself, and god was she smashing it.

“why can’t you just listen to me?” max sighed, defeated, “i know what’s good for yo-”

“go fuck yourself,” she said, hanging up the call, and dropping her phone on the floor besides her. lando’s arms move to behind her waist, pulling her back to rest into him on the sofa. the room fell into silence.

“im sorry,” she mumbled.

“don’t be sorry. this is on him, and me. i should’ve told him the truth the first time round. hell, i should’ve told you the truth earlier.”

“i’ve ruined your big day, lan. p2 - you should be celebrating, not arguing with your best friend.”

“im with you - that’s celebration enough,” he said, happy to see her smile for the first time in hours. she moved to lay her head back down on lando’s lap, this time looking up at him. a knock on the door brought the two of them back to reality, and cisca walked in, adam trailing slightly behind.

y/n contemplated moving, jumping away from the boy who was currently running his hands through her hair, but it had only been 4 hours of hiding whatever was going on between the two of them and she was already bored of keeping up the pretence.

“y/n, love, did you find max?” cisca asked, eyes softening at the scene unfolding in front of her. had she secretly wished for this for years? maybe.

“yea, he um, he went home.”

“he’s not happy about this, is he?” adam said, pointing between the two of you, yet even he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“not happy, fuming, absolutely raging - i guess you could say that,” she replied, laughing slightly to ease any tensions.

“he’ll come around lovely, he can’t stay mad at you. you’re his sister after all.”

“i love that you think so highly of my brother, cisca. he will go to the grave holding this grudge if he can.”

“ill talk to him later ang- y/n,” lando said, correcting himself quickly, not comfortable enough yet to be overly affectionate in front of his parents.

“good luck with that,” y/n joked, patting him on the arm sadly.

later that evening, y/n found herself sat on the floor of lando’s hotel rifling through her bag to find her pyjamas. earlier, her and lando had driven to her hotel room, to find that max had packed his stuff and left as expected. she didn’t want to be alone, and lando didn’t want to leave her alone. her phone began to ring, and she answered it praying it wasn’t max.

“y/n the videos of you are going feral on twitter right now,” her best friend, caitlin, shouted down the phone the moment she picked up.

“stop it - what are people saying?”

“erm, some people think it’s cute?” he friend responded, voice laced in slight worry.

“…and the rest of them think im a slut?” y/n added, but her friend only responded with a hum.

“what’s max said?”

“from what i remember, he drove off leaving me stranded at the track and then rang me to say i was making a mistake, i was a liar and he never wanted to speak to me or lando ever again.”

“taking it well then,” the girl responded, y/n could hear her eyes rolling. at that moment, lando emerged from the bathroom, with just a towel hanging around his waist. any words y/n intended to say got stuck in her throat. he took strides towards her, noticing she was on the phone and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before moving to his own suitcase to find a change of clothes.

“y/n…are you in lando’s room right now?”

“maybe?” y/n responded in a guilty tone, quieter than she had before, glad lando couldn’t hear the girl on the other side of the phone. however, he seemed to clock on to the question from the small grin on her face.

“girl why did you answer the phone? go spend time with your new controversial boyfriend.”

“he’s not my b- you know what, i’m gonna go.”

“dont do anything i wouldn’t do, stay safe!” her friend added cheerily, laughing as she ended the call. cheery was the furthest emotion from what y/n felt at this moment in time.

once y/n was in her pyjamas, she moved her way back into the room, lando was sat up in bed, his back resting on the headboard, phone in hand. he looked up as she walked in, patting the spot next to him for her to join. her face fell into a look that screamed apprehension.

“y/n nothing bad will happen if you get into this bed and cuddle with me.”

“something bad already happened,” she said, climbing under the duvet next to him nonetheless. his hand reached behind her waist pulling her into his chest, her head coming to rest on him.

“im happy this happened, but im not happy about every thing that’s happening as a result," she told him, her eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion from todays drama caught up with her.

“i know baby,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “get some sleep. we’ll sort this out tomorrow, i promise.”

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee

[inherdaze]

jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

9k

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

 “Yes.” 

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 

He doesn't. 

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.” 

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 

You peer down into the pot. 

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 

Your fingers twitch. 

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face. 

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn. 

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 

It’s a little loose. 

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 

Finally, he fesses up. 

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 

You see Kiyoomi make a face. 

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 

The both of you choke. 

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response. 

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 

“Miya.” 

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 

“Miya told me to confess to you.” 

Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 

“I wish you could come with me.” 

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 

Your mouth drops open. 

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 

You stay rooted still. 

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 

(He wants to). 

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 

He gives an approving cluck. 

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

[slasher-fxcker]

Hihi! I was wondering if you can do billy and stu and just the slashers reacting to their someone being hurt at their job and trying to hide it?

A/N: Okay I was going to do this request for multiple slashers, BUUUUUUT I started writing for Billy and Stu and got carried away. I love them too much

Billy & Stu Reacting to their S/O being injured at work.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, brief mention of killing (but I mean this is the slasher fandom so kinda expected lol)

This blog is 18+, Minors do not interact

GIF by casualwriters

You hadn’t been working at the video store for too long but you loved it, your friend Randy had gotten you the job when they were desperate for staff. It was great for the boys too; Billy and Stu would stop by all the time using the place as their personal hang out much to your managers displeasure.

Every Saturday night the boys would swing by and pick some scary movies to watch together after you finished, unfortunately for them you were going to be stuck doing inventory tonight. As usual Billy wasn’t impressed about having to share your time with anyone other than Stu, “Just blow it off what are they going to do fire you?” you rolled your eyes as you continued getting ready. “Yes Billy, probably.”

Stu got up from his spot in front of the tv to try to pull you back to the couch, “Come on babe, do you really think you should be out at night? Don’t you know there’s a killer on the loose?” You try to supress your chuckle as he raises his eyebrows at you, his usual smirk on his face.

You fake innocence putting on your best fear filled voice, “Oh no, what will I do if Mr. Ghostface comes to get me.” Billy laughs one of his rare genuine laughs before Stu steps closer to you placing his hands on your waist, “I could think of a few things.” Smirking as he notices the way you flush at the suggestion. You lightly smack his chest as he laughs at himself once again before you press a chaste kiss to his lips. You grab your bag, blowing a quick kiss to Billy before heading to the door. “I’ll try to get back in time for movie night, but don’t wait up.”

Inventory was fairly boring, you tried to get it done as quickly as possible while Randy spent most of the night showing you his favourite scenes from various movies. Shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth he continued his rant, “Come on how can you have lived your whole life without watching this movie? Quick you're gonna miss the best part!”

“Randy unlike you I’m actually trying to get this finished before midnight, now are you going to help me or not?” He sighs before finally getting off his ass and heading towards the storage room, 15 minutes go by and he still isn’t back to help. “I swear to god Randy if you're napping on the kart again I’m going to kill you.” You mutter to yourself as you head to the storage room.

You see Randy sitting on the kart going through a box of movies, you try to get a closer look before he sees you. You noticed the box of X rated movies he was looking at. “Randy you perv!” You didn’t realise you had snuck up on him before he jumped up knocking you into the shelves behind you both. Before you could move a box came off the shelf and fell onto you. Your head immediately pounded “Oh shit, Y/N!” Randy hurries to help you up, moving the various tapes that are scattered around to get you back out into the store, sitting up on the counter Randy starts looking over your head. “Oh shit, you're bleeding. Billy’s going to kill me.” You feel him practically prod at your forehead as you hiss in pain and slap his hand away. He helps you clean up the blood and tells you to go home, “Ill finish up here, it’s the least I can do.” You can see how sincere he is when he apologises. Your only worry is how you're going to explain this to the boys.

You decide to head straight home, hopefully the boys will think you just had to stay too late and will leave you be until tomorrow. That way you would at least have time to clean yourself up and come up with a story.

Looking in the mirror the damage is worse than you thought, the red tint on your forehead of smudged blood, the dried blood in your hairline and the bruising that was already beginning to show around the cut that could definitely not be concealed. You sighed as you wet a cloth in the bathroom sink raising it to your head gently, the pain immediately making you wince at the contact.

You raised your hand to try again when you heard something in your room, you looked out the doorway and saw what you could only assume was the boys sneaking in your window. You panicked and slammed the bathroom door closed locking it behind you. You hear the taller of the two call out to you as he knocks on the bathroom door. When you don’t answer he tries to open the door, “Whys the door locked babe?”

“Sorry Stu, I’m not feeling too well.” You try to sound convincing. This time its Billy that answers, “Come out here and tell us what’s wrong.” “Yeah we will look after you.” Stu giggles as you can clearly hear Billy push him away from the door. You feel bad hiding from them, “No its okay, you should probably go home in case I’m uh infectious or something. Yeah.” Your voice wavers and you know you aren’t convincing anyone.

Stu is quiet for once but you hear the edge in Billy’s voice as he speaks, “Y/N don’t lie to us, get out here.” You know they won’t leave, part of you wonders if it would be dramatic to climb out the window at this point. “Don’t make me break the door down.” You would’ve rolled your eyes but you knew he probably wasn’t kidding.

You slowly unlocked the door before slipping out of the bathroom, still not looking at either of them. You try to hide your face but of course they can see it, Stu is at your side immediately trying to make sure you're okay. He gently inspects the cut careful not to touch it. You try to ignore Billy’s stare but you can feel his eyes on you, looking at him for a second regret fills you when you meet his eyes. Billy might be a murderer but everything he does is so calm and thought out, never out of rage. You wouldn’t know that looking at him now, fists clenched at his side as his eyes narrow at you, gaze shifting between your eyes and the cut on your head.

Stu takes you to sit down on the bed, unsure of how to help you. He might be the most caring person when it comes to you but he’s also kinda hopeless. Billy’s gaze doesn’t leave you as you move around the room. Eventually after what felt like endless silence he walks towards you taking your chin in his hand and turning your face to look at the cut better. “Who did this to you?” Any other time Billy’s over protective tendencies would make you feel secure but seeing him like this, eyes dark and glazed over in anger didn’t bring you any comfort.

“No one did this to me.” He cut you off as his grip tightened slightly, “Don’t fucking lie to me. Who did this to you.” You don’t know what to say, you pull your chin out of his grip and sigh, “I was working with Randy and…” Stu seems to pull you closer protectively as Billy raises his voice again. “Randy did this to you?” Billy hated Randy already for so many reasons but this time Stu is the one to speak up, “That little fucker is going to pay,” he stood up and tried to walk away before you grabbed him, “No! I mean please just stay here with me,” you plead him as you pull him into a hug again, you know just how to stop this big softy from making a stupid decision like trying to kill Randy.

“He’s right. You think he gets to hurt you and get away with this.” Calming Billy down was going to be a harder task, “He didn’t hurt me Billy, we were taking inventory and it was an accident.” He scoffed, “He accidentally sliced your head open.” You walk towards Billy and take his face in your hands making him look at you once again, “It was an accident,” he tries to turn his head away but you bring him back to look at you, “And I’m fine now. I promise.”

You watch him as his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your lips, bringing himself closer to you. You reach up to place a kiss on his lips, slightly surprised when he begins to deepen it. His hands wrap around your waist as he starts walking you backwards towards the bed. You know where this is going and as the back of your knees hit the bed frame you break apart smiling up at him as you think you’ve won this one. He gently pushed you back onto Stu’s lap, the kind look gone from his face as he turns to Stu, “Keep her here til I get back.” Stu only seems to nod and Billy starts walking back towards the window, you suddenly realise what’s happening and frantically try to get out of Stu’s embrace.

“Billy no!” you practically yell at him, stopping him half way out the window, “Please Billy, don’t kill him.” He doesn’t respond as he sends you a bone chilling smirk and disappears out of your room.

[hopelessrromantix]

kinktober day 10 boot riding

daddy kink, amab reader yes ill post the missing days i swear sjdkf

cis women dni

The longer you stayed at a party, the more boring it got.

Sure, getting drunk and high and fucking around with your classmates was a good time. But after hours of huddling together with sweaty drugged up teenagers and having generic music blasted into your ears, it got a bit boring.

But Billy always found a way to make it more entertaining. Normally by pulling off a rather impressive keg stand. For once, he’d offered to be the designated driver (mostly because you’d done it for the past four parties and refused to do it again), so you were downing your second drink, talking to some junior you barely knew. The buzz of a high was clouding your head, though it wasn’t enough to impair your judgment.

But apparently your boyfriend felt like pissing you off tonight.

Eventually the junior wandered off, probably to flirt with someone interested. Billy, on the other hand, was chatting up some girl from your math class. You didn’t remember her name, but you most certainly remembered the way she talked to Billy.

She gave a fake laugh, making sure to lean forward and give him a decent view of her cleavage. Not that you blamed her for trying to sleep with your boyfriend. Billy was pretty, and it’s not like she knew he had a boyfriend. So no, you didn’t hold any resentment toward the girl.

Billy, on the other hand, was in a world of hurt.

He had every chance to turn her down. Every chance to make up some half-assed excuse or just plain tell her he wasn’t into it. But no. He joked and gave her some cheesy pick-up line. The brat even had the nerve to look your way while he was doing so, giving you a wink.

You watched for a minute longer, waiting for him to make some excuse to leave. But when it was obvious he had no plans of doing so, you decided to step in for him.

“C’mon Hargrove, you’re my ride home.” Luckily your head was clear enough to make walking out easy.

Billy frowned, trying to look as disappointed as possible. “Already? But I was having fun!” The girl next to him looked sad as well, as if begging you to let him stay longer.

“Sorry, I gotta get up early tomorrow,” You said, shrugging. Tomorrow was Saturday, neither you nor Billy had anything to do. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Fine, buzzkill.”

Billy, tap dancing on your last nerve, gave the girl a wink, causing her to let out an airy giggle. You rolled your eyes, stomping out of the house. You could hear Billy mumble what was most certainly a sarcastic comment under his breath.

You sat in the passenger seat the second he opened the door, waiting as he slid into the driver’s seat a second later.

After a second of him realizing you weren’t going to speak, he started driving, the music from the party fading into the background as he did so.

“Your mom and that bastard home?” You knew the answer was no. He’d made quite a big deal about getting the house to himself while Neil dragged his step-mom and Max on a ‘family outing’. Even with Max asking, Billy was left home alone.

“No, why?” He asked, glancing over to you before his eyes returned to the road. He was perfectly aware of ‘why’, you knew that much.

“Gonna let me stay over, pretty boy?” You asked, your tone low. He nodded, quickly taking a turn to head toward his house.

The trip was short and Billy got out of the car almost immediately after you arrived. You chuckled at how eager he was, fumbling with his keys in an attempt to get in quicker.

You followed closely, heading to Billy’s room without much hesitation.

The second you got in, you closed the door, pressing Billy up against a wall.

“You got some fuckin’ nerve, Hargrove,” you spoke quietly and quickly, though you knew he heard you from how he shivered. “You tryna get my attention, or just tryna whore around with some poor girl, hm?”

He shook his head rapidly, gulping down a breath.

Billy tried his hand at being a brat often. Always teasing you, getting your attention in public. But the second you were behind closed doors, he practically melted.

“Words, baby boy.”

“No, Daddy.”

God he knew what buttons to press.

“Then why were you flirting?” You spoke softly, loving how his eyes glazed over with lust when you did so. “Giving her hope for no reason. That just seems mean, baby.”

He made a noise of disagreement, shaking his head again. “Didn’t mean to, just wanted your attention.”

You chuckled. “No, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you slammed your lips into his before he could. You took over the kiss quickly. His arms twined around your neck, one of yours on his hip and the other gripping his hair. You gave a soft tug to his hair, forcing a loud moan out of his throat.

You slotted one thigh between his legs, giving him the chance to messily rut against you. Both your pants were tight, his jeans no doubt uncomfortable at this point.

“Pleeease just fuck me.” He was practically begging, arms tightening around you. “Please, I’m sorry for flirting with her, I won’t do it again.”

You both knew damn well he’d do it again.

“I don’t think I feel like forgiving you yet, baby.” He huffed at your words, hips still moving against your clothed thigh.

“How about this,” You suggested. You placed your hands on his shoulders, lowering him to his knees and placing your boot between his legs. “You cum in under two minutes, and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t remember your damn name.”

He nodded rapidly, head collapsing into your leg.

He moved his hands towards his jeans, only stopping when you firmly questioned what he was doing.

"I can't use my hands?" He asked, looking slightly hopeful. As if he'd get off that easy.

“If you really want me to fuck you, you can cum like this.”

He paused for a moment. “Like ‘this’?”

You smirked, tilting his head up slightly with one finger. “You think you can cum in your jeans for me?”

He shivered, nodding fervently.

"Good boy."

He started off slow, moving his hips against the firm leather of your boot. It was just enough stimulation for his sensitive cock. He was burying his face into your jeans, mouthing at your dick over the fabric. You just let him, watching as he desperately tried to get you to force your cock down his throat.

"One minute left." He whimpered.

His thrusts sped up, messily humping your boot in an attempt to get off. Barely decipherable mumbles of "please" "Daddy" and "more" tumbled out his lips, the words jumbled together and high pitched.

"You gonna cum, whore?" You asked, spitting out the term as if it was his name. He moaned, nodding.

"Please can I? Please Daddy? Wanna cum for you so you'll fuck me, please?"

You'd barely said yes before he buried his face into your thigh, hips stuttering and slowing. Cum slowly seeped through the fabric of his boxers, and suddenly he was thankful you'd waited until he was home to ruin him.

"Good job handsome," you said, leaving down and placing a surprisingly soft kiss on his forehead. "You get your reward now."

He was practically buzzing already.

[echoingalaxies]

cw: hospital/medical stuff mentions, unspecified illness or injury

“You wanna pick up some food on the way?” Caretaker asked, steering her car out of the parking garage and to the intersection.

Whumpee, sitting under a blanket on the passenger seat, watched the hospital disappear as they drove away on the mostly empty highway. He rubbed the pit of his elbow where a small bandage remained to stop the slight bleeding from a cannula.

It had been a long day. New bottles of medicine rattled in the pockets of his jacket when he shifted into a more comfortable position and leaned their head against the headrest. They had sat in the waiting room the whole evening before finally being admitted, and discharged only a couple of hours after. Caretaker hadn’t even tried to argue with the staff anymore. It always ended like this. Not enough beds and not enough people to take care of the ones lying on them.

Whumpee knew he was lucky. He knew he’d be safe going home with Caretaker. But it didn’t mean he didn’t keep dreaming about the day he’d be taken seriously. He’d receive proper care. Otherwise he’d just have to keep going back, over and over again. More pills, more bills, more wasted hours.

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh,” Whumpee blinked, realizing he hadn’t actually given Caretaker a response. “No, I… we should just head home. You’ve got work in the morning, and it’s already way past midnight.”

His stomach let out a loud rumbling sound just then, and Caretaker gave him a quiet look, which Whumpee pretended to not see. He could fix himself a bowl of yogurt at home. Caretaker needed sleep. She deserved it, after putting aside her own responsibilities just to stay with him again.

“What if I told you I already took tomorrow off?”

"What?" Whumpee turned to her, shaking his head. “Caretaker, no. You shouldn’t have.”

Caretaker shrugged. “It’s Friday, we get to have a head start for the weekend. Won’t that be fun?” Her smile faltered slightly and her voice shifted lower, to more serious. “The nurse said someone should keep an eye on you — and I wouldn’t want to leave you, anyway. You still need help.”

Whumpee knew that. He looked down, fidgeting with the hospital wristband. If he’d kept every one of those he’d got even during the past year, he could probably sew them together to make full sleeves for both arms. Money was already tight, as Caretaker worked to support the both of them, and Caretaker missing work because of Whumpee’s various appointments and frequent trips to the ER had had their effect on their income.

“Yes, but…” he said, the familiar tearing feeling of shame finding its place. “I thought we would call Friend or Sibling to stay with me while you’re at work. We have before.”

“Now we don’t have to.” Caretaker glanced at him, frowning. “Do you not… want me to stay?”

“Didn’t they say you can’t keep doing this anymore if you plan to keep your position?” Whumpee asked. “You like your job. I don’t want you to risk losing it because of me.”

“They will understand. I told them it is a family matter.”

Whumpee’s cheeks got hot and he moved his focus away from Caretaker again, watching out of the window instead. They were passing by shops, parks, and pubs, taking many turns in the little streets of their labyrinth of a hometown. Whumpee hadn’t even noticed they had left the main road, but he definitely recognised where Caretaker was heading.

“You didn’t have to lie because of me,” he mumbled, as Caretaker pulled into the parking lot of a local, 24-hour barbeque restaurant they both loved. “About it being a… a family thing.”

Caretaker turned to Whumpee, finally being able to give him her undivided attention as she turned off the engine, smiling softly.

“I didn’t.”

[flowwsblog]

Sober up

Peeta Mellark x f!reader

Summary; You and Peeta are enemies, but the golden boy get's a little too drunk at a celebration dinner; causing him to drunkenly confess his feelings for the reader. Long story short; Things get heated.

Warnings; smut, elevator sex, some light Dom/sub actions

Minors DNI

You had attended a dinner party that the Capitol had put together for the contestants before the games. You weren't one to party too much, and now especially since you had to keep your eyes open for any distractions.

Since you and Peeta had met, you didn't really get along. It seemed he acted like he was better than you, always trying to one up you. So from the get go, you weren't fond of him. Well, his attitude at least.

During this party, he had been drinking his ass off, you didn't know why, maybe to get rid of the stress.

You stared as Peeta downed at least two shots, along with some other people. Your eyes couldn't help but linger at how his Adams apple bobbed, how his face scrunched slightly as the bitter liquor entered his system.

As if on cue, his head turned your way. Probably from the lingering of your staring. You turned away. You sighed- 'I think it's time to leave.'

As you made your way out of the ladies room towards the elevators, you spot Peeta. The golden boy, drunkenly stumbling his way towards the elevator. He bumped into the wall, groaning at the sudden impact. But also pushing both buttons, summoning the elevator.

You laugh to yourself, striding towards the man. "Peeta, are you alright?" you questioned, your hand coming up to caress his strong bicep.

He looks at you like you've just sided with President snow, with furrowed brows. he suddenly pulls his arm back. "Y/n, leave."

You smile a little, of course he wanted to handle this on his own. You didn't mind, you needed entertainment tonight to get your mind off the games anyways.

The elevator dinged, signaling it was ready. Your face contorted to an upset one, faking a worried voice "Just get in the elevator, ill help you into your room yeah?"

His face still looked confused as you pushed him into the elevator, sighing as he leaned onto the nearest wall to compose himself a little.

"why are you even here?" He suddenly asked. you turned to look at him. God he looked good.

"I'm worried about you, that's all." there was a breath "But I know you’ll hate me tomorrow." you shrugged, turning to him. The bastard was checking you out.

"Uh.. yeah, I don't hate you Y/n." Your attention was fully on him now, what does he mean?

"I.. I just hate the way you make me feel."

You let out a breathy laugh, looking down before glancing at him once more. He seemed nervous. Maybe he wasn't playing around.

"Sober up Peeta, then tell me that." You smiled but you still felt uneasy. The elevator, once again, dinged. You were getting ready to walk out before Peeta lunged towards the panel and pressed the emergency stop button.

"what the hell are you doing?1" You question stepping forward, before you can do anything else he grabbed your jaw and kissed you.

You sighed into him, dropping your purse and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I need you, Y/n." He grunted, pushing your body against the elevator wall. "I need you now."

You stared into his eyes, pupils dilated from alcohol and lust. Was this really happening? Did Peeta Mellark actually have you pinned against an elevator wall?

"Are you sure?.. You're not fully stable right now.." You muttered, your lips grazing his in between words.

"Ive been sure since the day I met you." he mumbled, hands gripping onto your hips. You lunge forward to intwine your lips in his, both of you sighing into the kiss.

The kiss was passionate, teeth clashing and lip biting, fighting for dominance. You bit onto his lower lip, making him groan, the sound flowing straight to your soaking panties.

Your hands roamed into his neatly done hair, messing it up. He moaned sweetly, your hands gripping his hair as he picked you up. Your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His strong hands roamed your waist, one comjng up to wrap around your neck squeezing slightly. You whined into his mouth, the pressure his hand was forcing made the wait more agonizing.

“What princess?” He smirked into the kiss, his bruised lips coming down to leave wet kisses on your jaw and your neck.

“I need ..” your sentence was cut off by a moan; Peeta’s hand began messing with the edge of your cotton panties. His other hand, still placed nicely onto your throat, squeezed harder. “What do you need baby?”

“I need you.. please Peeta.” You whined into his ear, your head resting between his neck and shoulder. His hand crept into your underwear, causing you to gasp. His breathing became heavier; your mouth latching onto his neck, leaving wet kisses.

“God.. you’re so wet y/n.”

“All for me huh?”

Your nodded, whining, your hips stuttering at his touch. Peeta’s hand shifts, finding your wet folds. His finger rubs the bundle of nerves slowly; you moan loudly, tugging at his hair. He grunts, his hips bucking. The friction makes you moan, along with his fingers circling your core. He suddenly takes his hand away, moving to unwrap himself from you. You immediately move to unbuckle his belt, your hands quivering.

“Someone’s needy.” He teases, his eyes half lidded. You pull his pants down along with his boxers. His hands come under you thighs once more, shifting you so your level with his dick. You give a second take, seeing it hard and out, sprung up against his dress shirt. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Don’t worry honey, it’s all yours.” He mutters, you hum as you grab his cock, spit on it and start to move your wrist up and down. A throaty moan escapes him, your name sweetly following.

Peeta then grabs his cock and adjusts you both so he can comfortably place it against your folds. The feeling is euphoric, it’s not even in and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders.

Peeta slowly pushes in, both of you groaning at the sensation. “Oh my god..” you moan, your mouth coming agape. “Aaahh” he whines, bottoming out once fully inside your tight pussy.

“You’re so tight y/n.. god jus-… just like that.” The boy stuttered, his hips slowly moving until only the tip is in, then snaps back into you.

Pornographic moans escape your throat as his hips snap against yours at a lively pace, your nails scratching at his scalp just right.

“Mmm.. you’re such a good girl for me y/n..” he groaned into you, his hand coming up to grab your jaw again and kiss you. Your lips connecting and disconnecting because of the fast pace Peeta’s going at. His hand coming down to find your clit, rubbing it to assure you more pleasure. You whine into his mouth, letting his tongue enter your own. His tongue dances with yours in an act of dominance, and you feel your climax coming close.

“Peet..Peeta! I’m close..” you exclaim into his neck, your mouth coming agape once again.

“It’s okay.. I got you.”

“Come for me baby.”

The faster he went, the more the knot in your stomach grew. The sound of only skin against skin was heard in the cold space of the elevator. Goosebumps scattered across your skin as you felt it coming close, your hand moving to hold Peeta’s face as you kissed him once again. The knot in your stomach bursting as you moaned into his mouth. His pace became sloppy, your liquids dripping down his thighs. That was his last straw as Peeta came with a deep groan of your name, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Ecstatic breathing was heard for a minute. Your sweaty bodies heaving as he placed you down slowly. You whine as he removes his cock from your tired, sore pussy. A lonely feeling consuming you.

Your knees wobble, and I guess he notices because he snickers. You roll your eyes and smack his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Your move down to pick up your heels and purse, placing them securely into your hands. You watch as the man who just scrambled your insides buttons his shirt back up and buckles his belt. His hands which were once inside you, fixing his beautiful chaotic hair. You sigh “did you mean it?”

Peeta turned to look at your slumped figure, but hopeful eyes. “Mean what?” He stepped a little closer.

“Mean what you said? About how I made you feel?” Your bottom lip tucks itself in between your teeth in anticipation. Peeta comes close to your figure and places his hand on your shoulders, his head coming down to place a light kiss onto your pink, torn, lips.

“Of course I meant it y/n.”

You smile, a warmth consuming your chest. But then it drops.

“but.. what about the games?” Your hands rest against his toned stomach.

“Well figure it out. All I know is your mine, and always will be.” He assures, his toothy grin beaming at you. Your arms wrap around his waist as you rest your head on his chest. Sighing into him.

Peeta Mellark.

———-

A/n: I don’t feel very confident about the ending of this writing but I’ll make up for it next post, thanks for reading! likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated!!💞💞

[koolades-world]

hiii i was wondering if you could write abt an asian mc ? with the brothers or the dateables i don't mind! i just think it would be funny to see yk asian mc who's a high achiever (so even at RAD when they know nothing abt magic they'll try to score high), always take off their shoes before entering a place (entering a place with shoes is forbidden !!), always cook rice or stuff from their country when on cooking duties ("wdym we already ate that when it was my turn last time?"), will make you special herbal tea if you're sick (first time i suggested to make tea for my ill white friend they laughed :( ), tells you to eat more and in the same fashion, whose love language is giving you food, etc... bonus point if mc swears in their mother tongue. And if the MC was living in their native country before going to the devildom, their ability to just nap anywhere as if it's normal.

As someone who grew up in an asian household it's just regular to me but i can picture the face Lucifer would make if the first time mc enter Dia's castle they take off their shoes casually or like MC stuffing Beel's mouth with food as if he just didn't swallow the biggest mouthful of udon ever saying "come on Beel you need food, you need strength to play Fangol"

For the nap thing i was thinking about my relatives who take nap on their wooden bad or just the floor during summer (cause its fresh yk). My grandma always said a hard bed is good for the back lol

Anyway no pressure!! Have a nice day and take care !

hi!! yes of course :)

i'm a different flavor of asian but some of the culture overlaps so this was fun to write! haha the amount of times my grandma has urged me to eat more is hard to count. oh and the amount of tea i drank when we went to visit. i'll never forget watching her make the tea because it was a whole experience

i'm half indian and someone actually requested an indian mc so that will be out tomorrow because doing these requests back to back easiest for me!

enjoy <3

Asian Mc

Lucifer

you're ALWAYS on him for the amount of coffee he drinks

you also always make sure he takes a break to eat dinner because he needs to eat in order to continue his work

despite how bothered he might seem sometimes, he really does value what you do for him

plus, you not only keep yourself in line, sometimes you do his brothers for him too. thanks on his behalf!

Mammon

once you grow closer, he's asking you to teach him swear words so he can cuss out lucifer

if you don’t, well, he’ll just pick them up when you swear and hope he can figure out what it means haha

if you want, feed him random words, or even compliments so when lucifer hears them, he'll just be confused haha

despite the fact that he's the demon, maybe you can help him in class

Levi

when he first meets you, he'd not sure what to expect

however he quickly learns you're the best at everything you do

this includes video games and everything of that manner

he's got competition now, but he has no clue how you got so good considering it was probably your first time at all of the games you've tried

Satan

he's impressed by your work ethic and desire to achieve

you got dropped in a totally new environment and instead of struggling to adjust like he predicted, you bounced back almost immediately and were at the top of your class like it was nothing!

he tried to ask you once why you seemed so determine to get the best grade and never asked again after the look you gave him

something the two of you can bond over, though, is tea! he can often be seen with a cup of tea so that's an easy conversation starter between the two of you if not homework instead

Asmo

while initially he thought you two might not get along, you actually do quite well

he's huge on no shoes in the house and especially in his room

after all, he wants to avoid bringing as many outside germs into his room as possible

can and will ask you to teach him how you make your special herbal teas because he hates being sick and genuinely just wants to know

Beel

he falls in love with your rice cooker

rice that easy and that quick? sign him up! if he didn't already love rice you've put him on it

he doesn't think he could ever part with you and your wonderful cooking

even if you do cook the same thing every time it's your turn, he will inhale it because not only is it delicious, but you're an amazing cook

Belphie

even he's impressed by your ability to fall asleep anywhere

at least he's always with his pillow and maybe a blanket but he's seen you just curled up on the porch waiting for someone to get home

but that sighting was rare, because he felt like he always saw you doing something

however he really appreciated all the little things you did for him, such as making his bed

[natailiatulls07]

The golden trio Pt 5

Lando Norris x female!reader

Carlos Sainz x female!reader

Max Verstappen & Female!reader & Charles Leclerc

Summary - Being bestfriends with two famous formula one drivers is never easy, but what will happen when you get involved with yet another formula one driver??

Warning - a cringy pick up line, cheating, slight argument and swearing

A/n - I’ve been ill all weekend so I have just been getting some things done so you are getting loads this weekend

There is also kind of a time skip half way through, but you’ll know when 🤍

How is everyone feeling about todays Grand Prix?? 🥹

The golden trio

-

Text (White: Reader) (Orange: Lando)

Hey, are you lighting cause I make you McQueen 😉

Lando Norris are you trying to use a pick up line on me?? 😳

Of course darling, just trying to shoot my shot

Well in that case if you want to shoot your shot, take me on a date

Tomorrow 6pm I pick you up

Do I get to know where we’re going Mr Norris??

Nope. I’ll see you then 😘

See you tomorrow 6 pm 🤍

yourusername has posted a story

Gossip Groupchat (White: Reader) (Red: Charles) (Blue: Max)

Hey Bee, me and Charlie have found a new film wanna do a movie night tonight??

Yeah! It looks like a great film, we think you’ll like it 😁

Oh I’m sorry guys, I have a date tonight…

A date?!

With who!??

Um…Lando 🤭

Wait what?? Has finally come to his senses and remembered that night?!

Idk, he sent me a very cringy pick up line to shoot his shot

Yeah and then what??

I then said if he wanted to shoot his shot he should take me on a date so yeah he’s picking me up at 6

Ohhhh so that’s why you were busy all day

Yep, I was getting my nails done and doing some last minute pieces

Well we’ll probably see you just before you leave so I won’t give you the talk just yet 😇

Now I’m considering sneaking out 😅

Don’t you dare young lady!!

lando.jpg

Shooting my shot for her 😍

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 63,935 others

username I want dates like this 😩

username Lando taking photos of their date is just to make us jealous 😤

= username Well it worked 🫤

charles_leclerc Don’t forget about her curfew

= lando.jpg Of course, don’t want to get on the big brothers bad sides 😳

= username Overprotective brothers!!!

Texts (White: Reader) (Orange: Lando)

I had a great time last night, thank you 🥰

Of course, I had to win you over and I hope I’ve done that 🤞🏻

You were successful in winning me over

Yayyy!! Wanna do it again some time?

I’d be a fool to turn that down 😅

-

yourusername

Monthly dump 😚

Liked by carlossainz55 and 63,826 others

username Not Y/n posting Lando’s back like we don’t know who she’s dating like girl we know, it’s okay 😂

username The food is making me HUNGRY!!

username She’s just like us, posting the ‘worst’ photos of her bestfriends lol

landonorris Who’s that in the McLaren hoodie?? 😏

= yourusername Idk but he uses some cringy pick up lines 😃

username Not Max being an iPad kid 🫣

f1gossip

Spotted: Lando Norris sharing a kiss with another girl whilst Y/n L/n is seen shopping on the other side of Monte Carlo

Liked username and 2,383 others

username Isn’t Lando and Y/n a thing??

= username Yeah…

= username That means he’s cheating on her 🫢

= username Yeah…

username Why?? Lando why??!

username No I can’t, I just can’t today no!!

username He continues to fuck up my ship! FUCK!

Texts (White: Reader) (Orange: Lando)

Baby I’m so sorry!

No you can’t go ‘baby’ me. No not after you go and kiss another girl Lando.

It’s not what it looks like, please let me explain

Go on then explain why you were passionately kissing another girl in your car

Seen 4 mins ago

I can’t, I’m so sorry darling

Please it didn’t mean anything to me honestly

Baby? Y/n??

I love you sweetheart

Twitter

username Lando Norris you are gonna need to hide from Max and Charles once they see what you’ve done mate 😳

username He has fucked up so much!

username I bet she’s devastated, poor girl 🥺

username Every thing is okay, everything is okay, everything is okay… we’re fucked

Text (Blue: Max V) (Orange: Lando)

Look I’ve tried to talk to Y/n but I’ve just fucked it all up I’m sorry

Yeah you can say that again. Mate if you’ve come here trying to get cut of any slack you might want to think again

I know, I just wish I didn’t do it

Yk that girl LOVES you, she has been the happiest she has ever been since she started getting hate but you fucked that up

Yeah

Charlie and I have tried to get her out of her bedroom but nothing so you gotta think of something and fast

I will, I’m sorry

I know you’re sorry, please don’t think that me and Charlie hate you because we don’t

Thank you, she’s lucky to have you guys

We’re just abit annoyed that she has been hurt once again

-

Tag list: @eviethetheatrefreak @janeholt3 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @namelesssav @amalialeclerc @eugene-emt-roe @skepvids @ravisinghs-wife