#this au has been bouncing around in my head for like. months maybe.

[honey-and-diamonds]

kinnporsche princess diaries au

okay but please consider an au where everything up to the finale happened BEFORE PORSCHE like the minor family coup and kinn taking over with korn lurking in the shadows. but the minor family needs a new leader. naturally this position should go to the long lost eldest son of the kittisawads. cue korn wearing his best julie andrews disguise and showing up at porsche and chay’s home.

porsche is still doing the same old same old pre-kinn routine of lore

he meets kinn differently though-- kinn comes into hum bar with time and tay and porsche flirts it up (for tips. not because kinn is hot. because he’s not.) kinn humors him and tips well

one day korn shows up at porsche’s door and says “youre the heir to this mafia family” and porsche says “shut up” in his best anne hathaway voice and tries to kick korn out

korn explains (threatens) porsche that people gunning for the minor family power will be trying to eliminate porsche now that gun is six feet under and vegas is no longer able to take up the position (read: korn wont let him)

porsche does not care

korn brings out the big guns: chay will also be in danger

suddenly porsche’s ears are open

korn says that if porsche accepts his new role then chay will be able to go to the best schools and have every opportunity open to him and he will be safe (he is not manipulative. he swears.) 

so porsche reluctantly agrees to try out this whole mafia thing. 

korn makes sure chay gets a “””scholarship””” to his dream uni, effectively keeping him out of harms way but also his way

porsche comes to the compound and lo and behold, there is kinn

i personally would like to see porsche stomp on kinn’s foot a la princess diaries 2 bc porsche is embarrassed and thinks that kinn knew about this whole mess when he came to the bar. (kinn did. he wanted to see what street rat his father picked up to take over the minor family. he didn’t expect porsche to be so charming.)

porsche is very bad not good at this mafia thing. he half asses all of his training with chan (who i imagine to be the very reluctant joe equivalent in this universe)

until things go really really badly one day. people die because of porsche’s mistakes, and he’s haunted by it. he wants to be better, because the weight of his responsibilities is finally hitting. he swallows his pride and goes to kinn for help. 

kinn basically says there’s no use trying because porsche is just a pawn in korn’s game anyway. porsche is the perfect candidate for the head of the minor family because he has no experience and can be easily influenced. korn couldnt control gun, so he got rid of him. korn thinks porsche will be much easier to mold. 

oh this makes porsche BIG MAD

like. REALLY REALLY MAD

you know who overheard that whole thing? tankhun

tankhun, who has been underestimated and undervalued for so long, and is SICK AND TIRED of his father’s games, sees porsche and decides thats his blorbo

cue revenge montage where porsche takes a minor family for dummies crash course taught by arm

porsche is supposed to attend his first major meeting with the heads of all the clans and tankhun decides that this is the time for a paulo-style makeover 

”tankhun is exhausted. because he takes this--” points to a picture of porsche mid sneeze, “--and this--” a picture of porsche asleep and drooling, “and give you THIS”

arm and pol, in unison, “a mafia boss”

pete claps from his spot on tankhun’s sofa

anyways porsche shows up to the meeting and it’s tense but he manages to hold his own, much to the chagrin of kinn

but the problems are only beginning!! because there is discontent among the clans that porsche is literally a civilian with 0 experience, and thinks either 1) kinn should just absorb the minor clan’s businesses into one theerapanyakul conglomerate or 2) bring vegas back somehow

tankhun, as always, has a suggestion: porsche needs to make an “”””alliance”””” with another heir to a clan.

cue that scene in princess diaries 2 where theyre going through eligible bachelors except it’s mafia heirs/heiresses that arm put together in a tidy powerpoint and theyre going through it on tankhun’s sofa eating caramel popcorn

porsche goes on a series of dates/meetings/whatever you want to call them, and accidentally ends up charming the pants off of all of them bc lets face it porsche is adorable and sexy all at once and it’s throws everyone for a loop. he ends up with a harem. because he needs that.

kinn_watching_in_jealous_rage_from_a_corridor.gif

MEANWHILE IN CHAY’S WORLD

he is at uni and having the time of his life, ignorant of the fact that it is now paid for by the mafia

he makes friends with macau because thats what should have happened to begin with

cue kim appearing from the shadows to investigate the brother of the guy taking over the minor family. feels sus to him. and FRIENDS WITH MACAU???? mega sus.

except chay is pure sunshine and is so earnest that kim falls headfirst into love send help.

i mean it he’s really in the TRENCHES

anyways thats all i have so far. obviously kinn and porsche kiss kiss fall in love and realize that they are better TOGETHER and also the usurp korn and his schemes with tankhun’s help and they live happily ever after 

[highvern]

Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?” 

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.” 

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely. 

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day. 

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.” 

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building. 

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown. 

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers. 

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision. 

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B. 

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground. 

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.” 

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault. 

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—” 

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward. 

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark. 

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose. 

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.” 

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue. 

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously. 

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness. 

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!” 

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed.  “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles. 

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?” 

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips. 

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth.  Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.” 

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath. 

“Good?” 

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful. 

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning. 

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[loonmartell]

𓄹𓄼 Rainy day brew 𓄼𓄹

(No outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary : Can a stormy night and well brewed coffee bring two hearts together?

Rating : Explicit/+18 (Smut! MDNI)

Word count : 6,336 (I got carried away sorry..)

Warnings/tags : No outbreak AU, forced proximity cuz rain, pining, Alternating POV, pet names, one “yes, ma’am” because I couldn’t help it, a sprinkle of plot, lil fluff & banter, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, kissing, teasing, One (1) playful ass slap, creampie), storms (rain, thunder & lightning), A LOT of yapping about pour over coffee, no use of y/n.

A/N : Hello again! Today I come with Joel smut 🙏🏻. I wrote this for @undercoverpena ‘s April Showers Challenge! I absolutely fell in love with the idea when i saw it, cuz if there’s one thing about me it’s that I LOVE rain! So ofc i had to try and do it <3 A big huge colossal thank you to @joels-darlin for being my lovely beta <33 and @coispunk for not blocking me after i bounced off the walls contemplating if i should upload this or not ✨✨✨

Masterlist

——

“You need a ride home darlin’?”

You turn to the source of the voice and find Joel talking to you through the rolled down window of his pick up truck.

“Oh! no it’s okay I can wait for the rain to—”

“Non ‘a that now, This storm could last ‘til tomorrow night” he leans over the passenger seat to open the door for you.

It’s not that you wouldn’t appreciate the ride —you most certainly would— but you didn’t want to be an inconvenience and you especially didn’t want Joel to think that you were aburden.

You didn’t know each other very well. Your best friend Maria is dating his brother Tommy. And you’ve been dragged to a couple of dinners and drinks over the last couple of months with the three of them. But the conversations were always guided by the other two, so you and Joel never really spoke much. In fact, you had the fleeting idea that maybe Joel didn’t like you. He’s always so tense around you, you know this because you literally saw his jaw tensing after you showed up. And you caught him glaring at you a couple of times. You thought you may have unknowingly offended him somehow, but Maria assured you afterwards that you didn't say or do anything wrong and that he was probably just tired. So you let it go, but the idea is still floating around in your head.

Tonight was one of those nights where you went out for drinks, Maria and Tommy headed home early and left you with Joel half an hour ago. And not long after that Joel excused himself saying he had an early morning and said his goodbyes.

You waited a couple of minutes before you got out as well. Only, much to your delight; a storm was brewing and it was raining by the time you were ready to walk home. What an incredible choice you made to walk instead of drive on this day.

When Joel was one street away from where he left you at the bar. He thought back on when you mentioned leaving your car at home because you thought it was nice weather for a stroll. He tried really hard to get the idea of you walking home in this storm out of his head. You can manage. Get an uber, call a cab, whatever. But then again, Joel's southern manners would never allow him. That, and this big, colossal crush he has on you.

The first time he ever saw you was when he picked up Tommy from Maria’s (and your) apartment one morning. Tommy left him waiting long enough for you to get out and go to work (he assumed). You really had him in a chokehold. You were really, breathtakingly beautiful. You had your hair in a high ponytail with a few strands deliberately out, framing the gorgeous features of your face. You had both your hands full. One had a large handbag hanging from your wrist, hand holding a travel mug and a coat hanging on your forearm. The other hand was holding a bright red watering can. You started watering the flower beds on the windowsills and the big pot of gardenias right by the door. Your next door neighbour, an old lady, got out at that time. And Joel saw your cheery smile for the first time, and what he assumed were good mornings were exchanged. What a sweet, little thing.

He had the sudden urge to roll down the car window so he could hear what voice accompanied that divine face. But he thought better of it. And sooner than he would prefer, you were in your car and driving off.

When Tommy finally showed up, apparently physically unable to take his lips off of Maria’s, judging by how they never separated even after he was out the door. Joel rolled his eyes and turned his face away from that scene and towards the street on his other side.

Finally Tommy got into the car with a disgusting, lovesick smile on his face. But he smelled like shampoo and his hair was relatively wet. He showered and for that Joel is eternally grateful.

“You’re late” Joel deadpanned.

“And good morning to you too, brother” The younger man scoffed before placing two travel mugs in the cup holders.

Joel scrunched his eyebrows “what's that?”

“Coffee, Maria’s roommate brews her own with one ‘a those pour over kits and she insisted that we try hers.”

Joel’s throat went dry, thinking about that pretty girl he was unashamedly staring at, going out of her way to make enough coffee for her friend’s boyfriend’s brother. A sweet, delightful little thing.

“That’s real nice of her” if his voice cracked a little, Tommy didn’t notice.

“Yeah it is. So I’ve been thinkin’,” Tommy changed the subject faster than Joel would like. “You think you can drop me off at my place at say.. Two?”

“Two? We finish at the site at least after Three, what d’ya mean you wanna get out at Two?” Joel shifted his eyes from the road long enough to glare at his brother.

“Yeah I know but I was thinkin’” Joel is really starting to hate it when Tommy thinks “today’s me and Maria’s six months anniversary, and I kinda wanna do somethin’ special for her”

Six months anniversary Joel mentally scoffed, the fuck is a six months anniversary? And why isn’t he talking more about that damn sweet roommate!

“Yeah no can do, Romeo. We’re already behind ‘cause ’a last week, need I remind you that you ditched me laying down parquet on my own? had to do the three bedrooms that day all by myself”

“I told you we should’a done planks instead of parquet but you never listen to me, do you?” Tommy’s counter argument was weaker than he was hoping for. It was the owner’s choice, not Joel’s. And they both knew it. “Plus I had a damn plausible excuse that day”

“Not sure if a discount on an already cheap restaurant counts as plausible”

“It wasn’t just a ’discount’, Joel. It was a surf ‘n turf for half the price!”

“Yeah well I was surfin’ and turfin’ alone on the floors of the Johnsons. You’re not ditchin’ me again.”

Tommy slumped down on his chair like a toddler would.

On a red light Joel finally picked up his mug and took his first sip. A sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making little thing.

——

Before he even knew it, Joel was opening the passenger side door for you, not taking no for an answer. Thankfully, you didn’t put up that much of a fight and climbed your pretty ass in his truck.

The ride was pretty short and silent. The sound of thunder and loud smacks of raindrops against the car not leaving much room for chatting anyway.

When he parked as close as he could to your door, he reached behind your seat to the pocket of it. And brought out a small, folded umbrella. He knew it was a mere seconds walk from the car to your door, but he had the umbrella with him already, so why risk giving you a cold? Your nose, red and sniffling. He had to actively suppress the upturn of the corners of his lips.

“Here” he handed you the umbrella and before you could get a chance to speak, he followed with “not taking no for an answer, darlin’. Gettin’ soaked in this wind could get you sick”

“Um.. actually the storm’s getting stronger, and I was gonna suggest you come inside? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you driving in this weather”

A sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful little thing.

He looked out the windows, trying to figure out his next move.

“Think I’ll take you up on that offer. It does look pretty bad, and the slippery streets are harder to navigate when I can’t see further than my nose.” He brought his eyes to you. Hoping he wouldn’t seem too eager to agree.

You graced him with a smile and said “well alright then, guess now I don’t have to feel bad for hogging you umbrella”

“ ‘s not hogging if I’m voluntarily givin’ it to you” he smirked as he turned off the car. He got out of it with a quick “stay where you are” and opened the umbrella as he rounded to your side of the truck.

You walked under the umbrella he was holding. You’ve never been this close to him before and it gave you goosebumps that had nothing to do with the weather. You fiddled with your keys until you got the door open. There was no car outside or shoes in the foyer. They must’ve gone to Tommy's then. As much as you always wanted some quiet, alone time in your apartment. This was not one of those times. You were hoping Maria and Tommy were here to take the edge off of being alone with Joel, but you can’t really back out now and you’re already here. So, time to take a page out of the southern manners book.

”What would you like to drink?” you offered after he settled on the couch. His large frame dwarfing your whole living room, making everything look almost miniature. The thought had you blushing and you don’t really know why, but you don’t even want to find out.

“Coffee would be nice, if it's not a bother” his voice travelled through his place on the couch to the kitchen.

You can’t help the excited grin you have on “not at all! I just got a new Holklotz set that I’ve been dying to try out” when you get a new brewing set, you need time to experiment with different coffee grinds, ratios and timing between blooming and brewing to master the perfect cup. Time is a luxury not available to you on late mornings when you trade it for extra minutes of sleep.

Footsteps approaching the kitchen make you raise your head to see Joel coming into view, his eyebrows scrunched and confused “you got a what?”

You smile and hold the wooden base of the dripstand that you took out of the cabinet “this is my newest set, it arrived a week ago but between work and being too tired after, I haven’t had the time to bring it out and try it yet. Until now” you look at him with a too excited smile that you don’t try to hide.

“Well alrighty then, you happen to have here the perfect white mouse, test away” he settles at the barstool by the kitchen island that you’re standing by. You weigh the coffee beans and put them in the manual grinder, set to the size you need. Not too coarse but not too fine.

“Okay white mouse, care to help?” You hold up the grinder.

“Tell me what you need, boss” he concludes. So, you hand him the grinder to work on it as you heat the water and take the rest of the set out and put it together.

He continues working on grinding the coffee and wonders if you have immensely great upper body strength, since you do this every morning. His coffee is already ground and comes in a container. He doesn’t see the necessity for an upper body workout every time you need a little caffeine. But truth be told, he has been craving that coffee you made him that one time. Damned if it wasn’t the best cup he’s ever had.

The silence is killing him, and he has to avail from the storm that brought him to your home. “So, when you’re not at work or training for an arm wrestlin’ tournament,” he gestures to the grinder “what do you like to do?”

“Obviously, I take part in the tournaments I train for” you say with a serious expression that has his eyes widened in surprise. “I’m kidding, Joel. Although I think I have a good solid shot at winning.” You stick your nose up in the prettiest little smug face and Joel wants to kiss it away so bad. Focus.

He drags himself back to the present “can’t argue with that. But, if you’re basing that over this,” he again gestures to the grinder in his hands “then it’s not enough bargain for winning”.

You scoff and raise your hands up, wiggling your fingers “you have no idea what these hands can do” Joel can see you regretted blurting out the words without thinking, judging by the rising blush on your face and the way you don’t meet his eyes anymore. He can’t say he’s any better, his mind is already conjuring unholy images, reeling his brain and sending a rush of tingling heat down south.

What can they do? He imagines your small hands trying to wrap around his throbbing cock. Or you writhing on your bed stuffing yourself with three of your too small fingers, desperately trying to cum. He bets he can do it faster and better for you. If you give him the chance.

He knows he shouldn’t be picturing you like this. It’s crazy to even think about you like this. You haven’t even told him if you’re interested. Hell he never even said anything to show you he’s interested.

Clearing your throat, this time you’re the one bringing him back to the present, you say “anyway, I think I got off topic there” you let out a nervous chuckle. “To answer your question. My time is pretty much divided between work, coffee and my plants. I’m kinda boring, don’t really got much going on”

Joel doesn’t hear the presence of a partner in your life, and he selfishly likes it.

“Don’t sound boring to me, ‘s pretty comfortable” you smile at his comment and he gives you the coffee grounds, ready to be used.

You start your brewing process, talking him through every step you’re doing. Wetting the filter, dumping the coffee grounds in and meticulously pouring the water on the dripper. The blooming, the timing. He can’t promise he heard everything. Because you bite your bottom lip and your face contorts in the cutest focused face and he can’t help but stare. You really love doing this and he wants to eat you up.

“My chemex is my go-to on late mornings,” You suddenly pipe up as you’re waiting for the water to drip through the coffee grounds. “Even though it takes longer than a V60, It’s just faster to clean up and I can dual-task while it’s brewing. So I don’t mind.”

He lets out a hum from the back of his throat, considering what you said. “What about the taste? Whaddya like more?” He surprises himself that he actually cares and not just trying to be polite.

“I like them both the same, the flavour with the V60 is usually richer ‘cause the filters are thinner, but I still like the soft, smooth taste when using the chemex”.

In the back of his mind, Joel thinks he’s ready to fall in love with you. He loves coffee, sure. But to him it’s just something he needs in the morning and sometimes later in the day. Never really thought much of it, he has a coffee machine that gets work done for him. And yet, here you are, showing him a different, almost artistic aspect of it.

“Although..” Okay so you’re not done yet. “If we’re talking taste-wise in the brewing methods, I’ll have to go with the syphon”

“Syphon?”

“Yes syphon, I tried it once in a lovely family owned coffee shop across town. I’m telling you, if I lived near there? I would be a regular faster than you can say syphon”

“Well syphon is a long word, two full syllables” he faux ponders, making you giggle.

“Okay smartass, coffee’s ready.” You pull out two mugs from the cabinet. And fill them up. And slide his across the kitchen island, a brown owl adorning the ceramic surface.

You both sip at the same time then let out a ridiculously simultaneous soft sighs. You look at Joel with wide, pleading eyes, gauging his reaction. And of course, being the honest man that he is, he would never lie.

“Damn, that is good” he clicks his tongue and goes for another sip.

You smile brightly “I like it too. Although it’s a little more bitter for my liking, think I'll adjust the grind next time.”

You want to kick yourself so bad. You’re only now realising that you got too comfortable and you let yourself go on and on about something he probably doesn’t even care about. You had to shut the caffeine talk down.

“So, Joel, how's Sarah?” You gestured for him to follow you to the living room.

He settled on one side of the loveseat while you occupied the other, folding your legs under yourself. “She’s alright, her mom wanted her to see her grandma so she’s with her this week.” Maria told you all about their co-parenting system and how they’re succeeding in making it work so far. Little 10 years old Sarah spends equal amounts of time with both her parents and she feels loved by both. Not everything is a bed of roses, of course. But they deal with obstacles when they appear in their time.

“That’s nice, and how was her game last week? I remember you said she was nervous about it?” He stared at you for a few seconds too long that it makes you wonder if you crossed a line or said something wrong. But he blinked a couple of times and continued.

“Doin’ great actually, my little goal getter” he pondered softly before announcing “she scored the winning goal in last week’s game!” He sat up a little, you think it’s unconsciously as a result of his excitement.

“Oh my god! That’s so amazing!” You matched his energy “you must be so proud!”.

His smile widened if it was possible “I am, she puts her mind into something and never rests ‘til she gets it,” he reclined against the couch again “dunno where she got it from, but I sure as hell am not gonna complain”

“You’re selling yourself short, Joel.” You offered a warm smile “I’m sure you’ve been a great influence on her, your determination is probably rubbing off on her.”

Joel’s expression softened, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “Thanks, sure means a lot coming from you, sweetheart. If I’m bein’ honest, I just wanna see my girl chasin’ her dreams and be happy. ‘s all I want”

“I have no doubt she’ll do so much, and she’ll achieve great things with your guidance and support” you placed your hand on his knees for reassurance.

He felt warmth all over his chest, his heartbeats exceeding those of a hummingbird. His eyes fell down to where your hand was touching and almost burning him, and they stayed there for a while before looking back at your eyes. He has this immense urge to kiss you. The tension has been building all night and his ability to hold himself off is getting harder and harder by the second.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady his racing heart as he met your gaze. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your faith in her means the world to me."

Your hand lingered on his knee for a moment longer before you withdrew it, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "She's lucky to have you as her dad, y’know" you said softly, the look in your eyes showing the sincerity of your words.

A moment of silence passed between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Joel's gaze flickered to your lips, his own heart still pounding accompanied by longing. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to convey the feelings swirling inside him.

He brought his eyes back up to yours only to see that your gaze had been on his lips, mirroring his desires. Your gazes met, the tension snapped. Lightning flashes through the window right before your eyes and your lips crash in a bruising, soaring kiss that to outsiders would look as if you were trying to devour each other. Everything happened at a rather fast pace. The roaring of the thunder dwindled by frantic breathing and the rush of blood in his ears. His tongue demanded entry, which you gave no problem. He brought his large palm over your hips, pulling you over to straddle him, never breaking the kiss.

He felt your heat through the layers of clothes between you as you settled on his lap, pulling a soft gasp out of you. Using his grasp on your hips, he rocked you back and forth to grind your center on his bulge, eliciting a string of whines you let out in between the clashing of tongues. In a moment of sudden clarity, he broke off your lips but never moved too far away, he rested his forehead to yours, sharing the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice husky with emotion.“Um- I’m sorry, is- is this okay?”

You continued to move against him, seeking more friction. Then you chuckled through your laboured breathing, “yeah, yes I want this. If- if you do too.”

“Oh darlin’ you have no idea” he hurried out before picking up where he left off, trailing his lips down the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck where he settled on open mouthed kisses that sent your head falling back, giving him more of you. He got addicted to the taste of your skin on his tongue fast and he craved to taste more.

Dragging his mouth over your shoulders then to your collarbone. He huffed in frustration, your shirt was personally offending him by denying him the access he needed. Seeming to sense his frustration, you pushed him away slightly so you could pull off your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. He wasted no time roaming his hands all over your torso, returning his mouth to your collarbones, kissing his way down to the parts of your breasts spilling out from your bra.

His hands slithered up from your hips to the sides of your waist, then wrapped around your back and moved up to hook his fingers underneath the strap of your bra. He mumbled against your skin, “can I take it off?” You gasped your affirmation. Overwhelming sensations leaving you breathless.

Even though it was a simple bra strap, he struggled to unhook it. Hands too shaky and excited. You breathed a laugh and did it yourself. Once you’re completely bare, nipples perking up as soon as the cold air hits them. He pulled away, looking at you with wide, fascinated eyes. His lips immediately latched around a nipple, flicking his tongue slowly, almost as if he’s savouring the feeling. He pulled away and murmured “beautiful”. Just to latch onto the other one with the same treatment, “absolutely beautiful” he murmured again into the plushness of your tits.

You felt a shiver at the undivided attention from the gorgeous man that seems to never get enough of you. Of course you always thought he was handsome, that was non negotiable. The man was gorgeous from day one. And tonight, you felt a connection that you never felt before. And as soon as the ties were made, the tension rose suddenly, as if it had always been there but you were too much in your head to notice it, contemplating whether he likes you or not. But now, you do notice it. Very much so. And it’s becoming unbearable. You want him so bad. You want him to drown all your senses. You want him inside, outside, under and over you.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

You held his head with both your hands to pull him away from your chest before saying “need to see you too, Joel” you pleaded as you fumbled with the hem of his shirt trying to lift it. His eyes darkened at your desperation. As quick as the lightning that occasionally lights up the room around you, he flipped you so your back is against the couch and took off his shirt and jeans and hovered above you.

You took a steadying breath and your eyes drank in the sight in front of you, bringing your hands on each of his wrists. You mapped the outlines of his thick arms, moving towards his shoulders. Then brought them back to his broad chest, bare except for the hair that formed a thick layer in the center. You felt the muscles ripple under your fingertips. Built from the physical labour that a contractor would endure. You lowered your touch a little to feel his soft stomach. Squishy tummy, a sign of a man that was actually living and feeding himself well. Not shying away from a meal or obsessing over fitting society’s mould of perfection. You wanted to kiss it and nibble on it so bad, but you weren’t sure if he’d be okay with it, that was probably more of a second time type of thing. Mentally shaking your head away from the idea that you’re already thinking of next time when nothing even happened yet. Lastly, you ran your fingers on the smattering of coarse, dark hair that dipped further down into his tented boxers.

Mostly empty coffee cups long abandoned on the table. He knelt on his knees between your spread legs, and yanked your pants and panties in one quick motion. Towering over your naked form. His eyes danced around every inch of your body. He brought his thumbs to each side of your heat. Tracing the outside of your folds. He murmured so low, almost as if he’s talking to himself “Too goddamn pretty for your own good, baby”. He was basking in the sight of your desperate writhing as your need for any kind of friction became unfathomable.

“Please,” you whined in frustration, A smirk pulled on his lips at your little pouty face.

“Please what, darlin’?”

“Touch me” your keen hands reach for his wrists to coax them where you want him. But he was determined to keep his hands at their place.

Yeah, your hands are too small, too soft for such a sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager little thing.

“I am touching you now, ain’t I?” He keeps stroking the outside of your lower lips.

“More, please.” You whimpered.

“Well, you leave me no choice now, since you asked so nicely”

He wasted no time gathering the slick from your opening and plunging his thick middle finger in and out. Your breath catching at the sudden but welcome stretch. Not long after, his ring finger joined inside and he curled them both up, searching and finding the spot that makes your eyes roll and your hips buck into his hand in shock.

“sit still, angel.” He placed his other hand on your lower stomach to keep your back rested on the couch. He picked up the pace of his fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, massaging the same spot over and over and over. He felt your walls slightly tightening around his fingers, and there’s a change in the rhythm of your breathing. You’re close. “Cum for me, angel. Come on lemme see this pretty pussy droolin’ for me”. He kept his pace up until you were gasping for air. And with a specifically strong stroke, your walls clumped down, choking his fingers and soaking them to the wrist. Working you through your high, he kept his eyes on you, the sight of you coming apart on his fingers. Heavenly.

He took his fingers out and sucked them with lewd, obscene sounds. He made a show to lick his palm clean of your release and humming around his fingers. “Next time, I’m havin’ it straight from its source” he leaned down and kissed your parted lips. “Oughta have a palate cleanser ‘f we’re gonna give your coffee a fair shot” he gave a playful smack to your ass “and you sure know how to make ‘em.”

You blushed and giggled as you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of the prospect of a next time. The image of Joel relishing the taste of you is already seared deep in your brain. You couldn’t wait to have these slurping noises happening between your legs, certain already that he doesn’t eat, he devours.

He sat up on his haunches and lowered his boxers below his balls. He took his cock in his hand. Not even his large hand wrapped around it makes it seem any less girthy. The head is angry and leaking a steady stream. He gives himself slow, languid strokes from base to red-purplish head. You couldn’t help yourself, you sat up and your hand took over his. Stroking him at the same pace he was. He shuddered at your touch and marvelled at the contrast between his rough, calloused hand versus your soft, smooth ones on his cock. You gradually increased the pressure, adding a twist at the end that sent his head falling back with a stifled groan between his clenched teeth.

His hands were tight fists by his sides, desperately trying to hold off but ready to pounce at you any moment. “Hold on, baby” he groaned “I- I gotta grab a condom”

“But I wanna feel you, and I’m safe” you said in a little, unsure voice. Still stroking him and loving the velvety softness enveloping the steely hardness. When your gazes met again, the hungry look in his eyes made a tiny sound climb to the back of your throat. With that, the last thread holding off the beast inside him snapped. With a low growl he grabbed your ankles, yanking you closer to his pelvis, making your back hit the soft pillow on the couch with a dull thud.

“Baby, I’m clean too. But I need ya to be sure, angel. ‘Cause when I start, ‘m not really sure I can stop” He said through dark eyes that were straining to hold off.

You held firm eye contact with him “I’m sure, Joel. Please fuck me now”

“Yes, ma’am” with that, he ran his cock through your slit, gathering you wetness before lining it with your entrance and with one quick motion he sinks into you. Your moans and his name on your tongue, dripping honey onto his ear. He feels your warmth enveloping every inch of him. He wants to get lost in the feeling. To replace every bad memory he has with this sensation, the divine fit of your silky smooth walls, encompassing him. So tight, so soft, so perfect.

As his hips rocked back and forth, you wrapped your legs around him, and dug your heels into his ass, wanting him impossibly deeper. Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy little thing. He removed his hands from beside your head to hold the base of your skull in one of his palms and wrap the other under your waist for leverage. Grunting into your neck while your pretty moans filling his ears got louder as he moved in a pace that promised him a date with painkillers and an ice pack on his back tomorrow night.

When he felt the telltale signs of your near release, he gently let go of your head to bring his hand down and circle your bundle of nerves. Your continuous string of frantic pleads prompted him to lay soothing kisses to the corner of your mouth. With a compulsive string of “it’s okay, baby”, “sound so pretty whinin’ like that”, and “just let go for me, princess.”

The last one pushing you over the edge. With your legs quivering, your breathing turning into shallow panting and your hands clawing at his back. He was working you through it all with a “that’s it, angel. There ya go”, “so good for me” and “look so pretty cummin’ on my cock”.

Once your muscles stopped contracting and your heartbeat settled on. Joel switched to a more gentle pace. You stuttered out between small gasps of air “cum for me, Joel. Fill me up”. Leaving him no choice but to buck into you wildly with renewed vigour. Fucking you like all of his goddamn life is depending on it.

Loving the effect you have on him, you whispered “Wanna feel you inside me after you leave, Joel”. This makes his release hit him like a freight train. With a few forceful plunges and a string of grunted out fucks. He shoots his load with a prolonged groan of your name, painting your walls with strong, long spurts. He came so hard, he thinks he blacked out for a minute.

He collapsed on top of you, nuzzling in your neck and surrounding himself in your scent as he comes down from his high. In the middle of the chaos of regulating heartbeats and relaxing bodies, your laboured breathing turns into a giggle when his beard tickles your neck and under your jaw. He lifted his head to look at you with a “what?” and scrunched eyebrows. You stifled your giggle with a shake of your head. Only failing when he dips his head in your neck again. He smirked when realisation hit him. Lifting his head again “You’re ticklish ain’tcha, angel?” His face is so close your noses were touching.

You pressed your lips in a firm, straight line and shook your head again.

“No? So you don’t mind me doing this?” He rubbed his beard on your neck again and again. You went into a giggle fit that triggered his own breathy chuckles as he switched to the other side.

“Okay, okay I am, I am!” You managed to say between giggles.

He stopped and looked you straight in the eyes “ ‘s what I thought” he descended his lips on yours and they mingled in a soft, deep kiss that made you lightheaded. He wouldn’t mind getting used to this, “Lemme clean ya up, princess”.

One year later.

The anniversary of your first “get together” is today. Joel wanted to skip work all together, but he knew Tommy would give him shit about it. How ironic.

He rented a gorgeous, comfy cabin for the weekend, that’s a thirty minutes drive away from town. Joel coaxed Sarah into a slumber party at her uncle’s, which she would’ve very happily agreed to either way. But she’s a smart kid and she chose to haggle for a later bedtime and ice cream for dessert both nights.

He wanted to take the extra time to prepare everything you might need, from basic essentials like food or first aid kits, to extra entertainment options like books or puzzles. He doubts they’ll need the latter though.

——

But then again, it’s April, and a storm was closing in. Rendering the drive there too dangerous to make during the night. And the storm is predicted to last the whole weekend, even threatening to close schools on Monday.

“I’m just upset you didn’t get your money’s worth from that cabin” you say with worried expressions as you put away the food that you aimlessly packed earlier.

Joel brings the last of the suitcases in, sitting them by the door. “The owners seem pretty nice, bet they’ll understand and agree to push the reservation back”

“Then, that settles it.” You sighed and closed the fridge with finality. “We’re having our anniversary weekend here” you approached him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He instinctively placed his hands on the dip of your waist, and grunted with furrowed eyebrows “I got a long ass list of things I wanted to do to you in that cabin, now ‘s just sitting in my wallet mockin’ me”.

“It’s for the better, gives me time to make my own list” you teased him with a wink and a bite to your lower lip.

He squeezed your waist with a low, gravel groan. Eyes on your lips in a strong, hungry stare.

But before he can act on his thoughts you unwrap yourself from his tight grasp and turn away with a shout that carries upstairs “Sarah, change of plans! We’re staying here for the weekend!”

Hearing her footsteps descending the stairs, Sarah asked “you’re staying with us too?”. She squeals when you nod with a bright grin. “Now we can watch that movie I told you about last week!” With that, she drags you into the living room, gushing to you about the movie while you listen with interest and occasional oohs and aahs and reactions Joel knows are genuine.

Every other sound dies down as one thought only echoes in his head.

Oh god, please let me keep her.

The black, velvet box burns a hole in his suitcase. And item no.1 on his list sits idle by, just waiting to be checked.

He knows you’ll say yes, this isn’t a subject you avoid. You’re both aware of what you want in a relationship and you communicate your needs to each other. So you’re both sure that you’re on the same page. The element of surprise lies in the timing and method only.

As he looks at you and his daughter, he knows that this feels right. This is how it is supposed to be.

Okay, he owes Tommy an apology. Because now he understands disgusting, lovesick smiles and the urge to get out of work early. He understands six month anniversaries, because when he’s with you; there isn’t a damn thing he wouldn’t do for the mere chance to make you happy.

A Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy, dreamy little thing.

My Sweet, delightful, damn-good coffee making, thoughtful, eager, greedy, dreamy little thing.

——

A/N : Again, if you’re still here, I love you so much & you made my day <333 pls tell me your thoughts! I write cuz i love doing it but i need to know if i should continue to upload or just let the contents of my delulu brain stay in my phone 🫣

Loon out, luv yaa <33

[planet-dusk]

pay me // s.cb

you're having the worst month of your life: you got dumped by your ex, lost your job and now your car has broken down. luckily, the mechanic knows a way for you to repay him.

⛓️ PAIRING :: seo changbin x f!reader

⛓️ GENRE :: smut, dubcon, car mechanic!au

⛓️ WORD COUNT :: 1.3k

⛓️ WARNINGS :: dubcon !!! (sex as payment), mc is a virgin, corruption, degradation, mention of anal, pussy spanking, unprotected sex, oral (m), possessive behavior

⛓️ NOTE :: 18+ minors dni. this work contains dubcon. proceed with caution if the above warnings may be triggering to you. i do not condone any of these actions. the characters don't represent real people. this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. don't edit, copy, repost or otherwise steal my content.

📍 skz masterlist

Your hands are shaking under the mechanic's stern gaze. Sweat coats your brow when your card declines for the third time. 

“Are you sure the card works?” The man frowns. You’re standing in his small office at the back of the shop. It was the only one in town open on a Sunday and he towed your broken car all the way there. 

You bounce on the balls of your feet. His dark eyes make you nervous. You know there’s not enough money in your account; the repair was more expensive than you expected. 

“I can call someone. Let me grab my phone from my purse. It’s in the car.” 

The truth is you have no idea who to ask for help. Your cheater of a boyfriend broke up with you last month. You don’t talk to your parents. And the handful of friends you’ve got all have their own troubles. 

“So you can drive off without paying? Don’t think so.” The mechanic (Changbin, Seo according to the tag on his shirt) crosses his arms in front of his broad chest and watches you closely. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I-I,” you stutter, taken aback by the question. His probing eyes burn right through you so you don’t dare to tell him anything but the truth. If you’re lucky he might even take pity on you. “I got fired last month.”

“Sorry to hear that.” His smirk doesn’t match his words. “So I’m guessing you don’t have the money?”

“I promise I can pay you back later—” 

He shakes his head and wipes his hands clean on a towel. “Heard that one too many times before. You’re not leaving without payment.”

Tears burn behind your eyes as everything around you comes crashing down. The breakup, losing your job, the car… It's too much. You blink the tears away and take a shaky breath. You’re not going to cry in the mechanic’s office. 

The man steps closer and tilts your chin up with his hand. He smells like a mixture of motor oil and sandalwood. Something twists deep in your gut. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He smiles. “I have a solution."

When the mechanic had told you how to repay your debt you’d expected he would want you to give him a quick handjob or suck him off. Even though you felt shame at such a transaction you had agreed. You didn’t see another way out. You’d just have to get him to cum quickly so you could leave and never think about this day again.

But it would be a lie to say your eyes weren’t drawn to his strong arms and muscular chest. 

What you didn’t expect was for Changbin to put you over his lap with your skirt flipped up, the cold air hitting your exposed cunt. 

He has been playing with your pussy for what feels like hours. His rough fingers circle your hole and trace your lips, ignoring your throbbing clit. It drives you crazy.

He laughs at your helpless wriggling and spreads your folds to spit in your hole. You can feel it trickle down together with the last of your dignity. 

His wet thumb presses up higher, against your asshole and you gulp in surprise at the strange sensation. 

“Have you been fucked here before?”

"N-no," you hiccup. 

“Maybe I should be the first. Fuck your tight ass while your needy cunt stays empty until you’re begging me to cum.” 

You can feel his heavy cock prodding at your stomach and you wince. He'll never fit. Fear mixes with arousal and he laughs again. 

“Does that thought make you wet, sweetheart? Look at you. You’re fucking dripping.”

Changbin applies more pressure now, thumb almost breaching your rim. You realize he could do anything he wants to you. 

And you would let him. 

Shame washes over you and you hide your burning face in your hands. 

"What's wrong, princess?" he mocks. 

When you stay quiet Changbin slaps your pussy with the flat of his hand and you tremble at the sting. It’s the first attention your clit receives and the pain bleeds into a dull pleasure that settles in your core. 

"Answer me." 

You shake your legs anxiously. You and your ex never got the chance to take it any further than third base. He had already left you for another girl by then. One he could fuck any time he wanted. One that didn’t want to wait. 

“I’ve never… I’m…” you start. “I’ve never had sex before.” 

Changbin groans. You’re a virgin? His cock twitches at the thought of being the first man to fuck your pretty little cunt. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he echoes his earlier words. “I’ll ruin you for every man that comes after. Make sure you want nothing but my cock.” 

You whine at his words. You feel so deprived you could cry.

"P-please," you whisper. The neediness in your own voice disgusts you. 

"Please what? Please stop?" 

You shake your head meekly. "Please, sir, want your cock." 

Changbin laughs. "Such a spoiled little whore. Can't even pay me and now she wants my cock? What makes you think you deserve it?"  

He slaps your clit again, harder this time. You sob. 

“I-I’ll be good for you, sir.” 

“You better be. I spent a whole day fixing your car.” 

His strong arms hoist you up and he bends you over his desk, your hips hitting the hardwood tabletop. You hear him fumble with his zipper and then, without warning, you’re breached by his heavy cock. 

You cry out at the burning sting, the stretch bringing tears to your eyes. “H-hurts, ah, sir—” 

Changbin grunts and grasps your waist, setting a relentless pace. “You made a promise, sweetheart. Now pay me.” 

You whimper and sob as his thick girth stretches you open. It’s a foreign sensation, pain mingling with pleasure until the sting fades away and all you can feel is the tightening knot in your tummy. 

“You’re lucky no one else is here today to watch you getting fucked like a whore.” Changbin’s hands tighten their grasp. His hips snap into yours roughly, hard enough to bruise. “You fucking love this, don’t you?” 

You mewl in response. It’s impossible to think straight when he’s pounding into you like this. 

He laughs. “Who would’ve thought you’d be such a slut? Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Gets me so hard, princess. Gonna make you cream around this cock until you can’t take it anymore.” 

You’re crying and drooling all over his paperwork now. Your entire body burns in humiliation at getting fucked like this: bend over a desk in a repair shop, letting a stranger use your body for payment. 

But the worst part is that you’re enjoying every minute of it. 

“Make me cum, sir, please,” you’re begging him between sobs. You feel so high-strung you think you can snap at any moment. 

Changbin slaps your ass harshly and you cum with a cry, your cunt squeezing around him like a vice. He fucks you through it until you’re clawing at his desk. 

You gasp for air and try to squirm away from him. “Too much—sir, hhng, ahh—” 

He pulls out and grabs your limp body to turn you around and force you down on your knees. You look up at him with wide eyes, red-rimmed and makeup smudged from crying. 

“Look at what you do to me, sweetheart.” Changbin strokes your cheek and your shaky hands come up to guide his cock to your mouth. He’s fucked you so dumb you’d do anything to get more. 

He rests the tip on your lips before pushing past them and drool spills from the sides of your mouth as you choke around his cock. “I think I’ll keep you here for a while longer, princess. Until I say your debt is paid.”

[the-kr8tor]

back to back requests, if you are okay with that. r finding out that she’s pregnant, and then hobie finding out? or maybe they both find out at the same time? up to you!!

Another banger request, bestie! Thank you 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW vomiting, description of illness, pregnancy talk, Billie and Ramona AU, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The portal opens in the living room, from the force of it opening has the boat rocking in the stagnant water. the sounds of your trinkets falling and crashing on the floor has Peter B. Cringing, while Mayday giggles excitedly in his arms. MJ follows close behind, all dressed up and pretty for their anniversary. The portal closes behind her in a mechanical sound.

“Hobie! Y/N?” Peter yells across the small space.

Mayday babbles to what sounds like your names. She tries to escape from her father's hold, kicking and squealing excitedly.

“Maybe they're still asleep?” MJ looks behind the kitchen island, she shrugs, having no idea where you or Hobie are.

Meanwhile, Mayday escapes, crawling across the floors. Upon your request, Peter took off Mayday's web shooters because in their last visit, well, the toddler almost gave you a heart attack.

Peter scratches his head, eyes flicking towards the closed bedroom door. “Do you think they're, you know?” he asks his wife with a slight whisper, wiggling his eyebrows.

MJ side glances, “Come on, really, Pete?”

Mayday points at the bathroom further down the hallway, Peter's enhanced hearing picks up retching and dry heaving inside the closed bathroom, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls.

He picks up Mayday, cradling her head. Looks like date night is postponed when the only person who volunteered to babysit Mayday is sick.

“Everything alright in there?” he knocks softly on the door.

The living room window slides open and out jumps Hobie holding onto a brown paper bag.

“You're early, hey MJ.” He says nonchalantly.

“Hi, Hobie, is she okay?” MJ grimaces after another round of retching continues inside the bathroom.

“Dude,” Peter makes way for Hobie to enter the small hallway. “Is she sick? You know I can't drop Mayday off while there's some sort of infection happening in here–” he gets a thwack upside the head from his wife.

“She's fine” Hobie says it to the couple but it's more of a reassurance for himself. “We both think she ate something bad a few days ago and she's been like this every morning.” He knocks twice on the door.

MJ looks like she's thinking.

Your pained muffled voice echoes out. “I'll be out in a minute, sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, love. I've got your meds, yeah? Come out so you can drink it” he says through the door.

With a click of the doorknob, you reveal yourself to the party in Hobie's jumper and a very old sweatpants hanging on your hip. Your eyes are flushed, sniffing to hell and back.

“Hi, sorry I don't think we can take care of Mayday today.” You say dejectedly, eyes forlorn as you look at the toddler who's equally devastated to hear the news.

“Aww man but we've got reservations–” MJ slaps Peter upside the head again.

Hobie helps you walk with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, thumb massaging comfortingly. He whispers to you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like my stomach is doing somersaults.” You groggily say. Hobie sits you down on the settee, handing you a water bottle and medicine.

“Y/N, sweetheart, when was the last time you had your period?” You almost did a spit take when MJ asked you the question.

“Honey, what the he–cow” Peter fumbles, realizing that his daughter's still in his arms, watching him with her big eyes.

Hobie looks at you with wide eyes, slowly realizing something. You ate the same thing he eats everyday so why are you the only one with the stomach bug?

“Uh I'm late this month…” you side eye Hobie who looks like he's about to vomit right there and then. “Why? I'm probably just stressed and…” MJ gives you a soft look.

“Are you fatigued?” MJ softly asks, you nod while Hobie observes you and you only. “Any tenderness in the chest” you nod again. Hobie flicks his eyes down to your stomach. “Y/N, darling.” She smiles at you and Hobie, Peter gives you two the most awkward thumbs up. Mayday copies her dad, nodding along.

You chuckle nervously, facing Hobie, your bottom lip wobbling.

“Y/N” Hobie looks at you with glistening eyes. “Love, I think I should swing by the chemist again.” He holds your hand affectionately, eyes never leaving yours as a smile spreads across his face.

Peter's spidey senses warn him, covering Mayday's ears in one quick dad movement.

“Holy shit! Am I pregnant?!” you screech.

One agonizing fifteen minutes later, two lines appear on the small plastic stick, confirming MJ’s suspicion. Hobie was with you the entire time, holding your hand, caressing your back as he whispers ‘I love yous’ in your ear. You know you and the baby will be okay.

[koiir]

THE FEELS

Scenarios with your crush, based on moments with me and my crushes

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ━ Characters; Isagi, chigiri, reo x gn!reader

𓈒 Genre/content; fluff, some angst + comfort on chigirs part | high school au, not proofread

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ ISAGI YOICHI

Isagi who is the boy who you’ve liked for…how long? You don’t know why you still hold feelings for him, it’s a bittersweet feeling for you since you haven’t actually ever talked to him. Unless it was school related, you just never had the guts to talk to him on your own free will.

Maybe it’s the hope in your heart that things maybe some can potentially happen, I mean—you two do have three classes together, and this isn’t the first year you two have had classes together.

So when you walk into class seeing your classmates scattered around, its evidence of the new seating chart that has been made. Somehow, your seat is the same and your friend is also in the same seat as before—but he isn’t. Isagi.

Cause now you have isagi seated right in front of you…you feel yourself try and compose yourself as quickly as you can before walking to your tabel. You notice the look your friend is giving you, a clear indication that they will clearly have a fun time with this arrangement…

“How long are we assigned these seats for?” You ask heading over to your table placing your items down and taking a seat. You try and not to look at isagi, but it’s so hard when he is clearly the other person in your view as you look at your friend.

Why out of all seats does he sit in front of you…it only makes your heart pound faster as he looks at you as you speak.

“Oh…I think for like a month or so.” What? A month of having isagi sitting in front of you?! You feel like you might pass out.

You try to keep your eyes on your teacher as she teaches, but whenever you take notes it’s almost perfect with how you and isagi move at the same.exact.time. You can’t help but spare glance at him—I mean, he is your crush after all…and what’s worse is he does the same thing.

You try not to crack a bashful smile, you keep your mouth covered with the your hand on your chin as you write down. But to focused on your own emotions, you don’t notice the way isagi has a red tint on his face as he takes on more glance at you.

Class feels more longer as you hear the soft ticking of the clock, your leg bounces up and down as you feel so many thoughts run through your head. It’s only worse when you’re stuck on a problem, you reread the question over and over but to no avail. You can’t seem to get an answer down.

You notice the way others around you turn the page over while you are still stuck, you start to feel anxious if you will be able to finish this before class ends.

“Do you need help [name?]?”

“Huh?”

You feel your face lift up immediately after hearing it, isagis voice catching you out of your trance. It’s only until you look at him that you feel yourself grow more nervous speaking to him face to face like this.

“You seem stuck” he tells you, you notice the soft smile on his face as he runs his hand looking at your sheet of paper filled with scribbles.

You grip your pencil tighter as you look down, holding eye contact with him for this long is making your heart want to explode. You wish for a smile to make its way on your face but you keep yourself composed.

“Oh…well, yeah. I just don’t…”

“Get it? Yeah, I had a hard time with that question too..”

Isagi hands you his paper, the smile now genuine as you see his flushed face. You feel yourself look at him and then the paper before giving a small smile before taking it.

“If you want I can explain it…or you can just copy it.” You look down bashfully as you smile writing down what he has on his paper onto yours.

“Ah no it’s fine…thanks.”

You don’t know why, but your hand writing comes out more sloppy. Maybe it’s because of the way you can feel isagi watching you closely as he awaits for you to finish, you try and rush but you wish for this moment to last longer.

“Of course, I can help anytime you need.” Maybe this month wouldn’t be so bad as you thought, cause now you had a chance to share more moments with isagi like these. That definitely feed into your delusions.

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ CHIGIRI HYOMA

You remember the first time you were introduced to chigiri, it was when you both were ten and in the same class. At first you found his confidence quite annoying as he would always find some way to annoy you, but you also found yourself looking forward to seeing him as well as playing with when it was time for recess.

Over the course of the couple months of your friendship, you found your feelings grow more for him—it stayed this way for a year until he ghosted you. Even though you were young, you knew what heartbreak was—and you felt this feeling once he no longer spared glances at you or tried to talk to you.

You and chigiri didn’t have any classes the year later, but even then you both kept in contact—but all of the sudden he just stopped. You didn’t know why, but it was clear something happened. To him at least.

It’s been a couple years, you won’t lie to yourself but you sometimes ponder on what could have been whenever you notice chigiri through out the hallways, you both now in middle school…until it’s your first year in high school.

What you didn’t expect was to enter the classroom filled with familiar faces, yet his face was one you didn’t expect. It seems you have no assigned seats, so you walk over to an empty table in the back with a friend of yours and when you do chigiri turns and looks at you.

It feels only natural to look back, but you quickly glance away while he doesn’t. You slowly sit down on your seat as you feel a weird feeling, it isn’t exactly that you are nervous but rather you don’t know what to feel. Maybe it’s because he left without saying anything.

You notice his small glances at you as he has to look back slightly to even see you, but you try to pay no mind to these glances. It’s not like you’ll see him after this, right?

Well you seemed to have jinx yourself because you have two other classes with chigiri…you definitely didn’t expect this since you haven’t had a single class with him in years.

It’s been three weeks since school has started, and you don’t know how to feel with chigiri being in three of your classes, you notice his glances—and you yourself find it hard to not look at him at least once. It’s been like this, where you two would occasionally make eye contact or in which you would find him glancing at you.

Or…those awkward moments in which you two stood face to face as you two looked at each other before you both walked away, or whenever you stood next to each other. The awkward tension being so unbearable for you….

It’s a normal class, yet you feel yourself dreading the next activity as you can’t be partners with someone you already have…you give your friend an annoyed glance as you both sigh wishing you two could work together.

When everyone is given instructions, most stay in their seats until someone gets up, and then the next until the cycle continues. You have options, you know most of these people so you wouldn’t mind being with any of them, but just as you are about to get up you notice him walking towards you.

“Wanna be partners?” You feel yourself immediately because stiff as you hear his voice, it’s been a while since you have—especially with how close he is. You haven’t been eye to eye with him for so long…

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” You hate the way your voice comes out saying that, but you feel your heart pounding. Maybe it’s because he isn’t smiling, maybe it’s his tone that makes you feel like he forgot all about the friendship you two once held. Buts that all in the past, you can’t do anything about it no.

But his smile makes you rethink things, it’s an awkward smile yet so cute on him. You feel your own lips curl into a small smile as you two get seated next to one another, reminding you of the past when you two always sat next to each other.

“You ready?” Unlike earlier, you notice the difference in his tone as chigiri looks at you, a grin on his face as he looks at you. You feel yourself looking back at him before feeling the warmth of this feeling in you, it gave you a sense of nostalgia being with him like this.

“Of course I am.” You say as you give chigiri a smile that reflects his own. You thought you could push away your thoughts from him, but not with the forced proximity, it seems to have worked out in your favor. Chigiri knows that this time, he won’t run away from it.

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ REO MIKAGE

It’s well known to you who reo is, his reputation already perceiving him even though it’s only the first year into high school—everyone hogging him trying to become a friend of his.

As for you, you don’t try and get to know him like your other peers as you just try and get all A’s—but it does annoy you how easily someone like him can get amazingly good grades. Does he even try?

As you pay no mind to the others around you and keep focused on yourself, it comes as a surprise to you that reo starts talking to you. It’s not exactly a normal conversation either…it’s more like he’s pestering you trying to catch your attention.

And you think that this is just him trying to get to know all of his classmate, yet when he does it more than once—you know reo is doing this on purpose. It certainly doesn’t help that you both share another class together, where he sits right across from you.

It stays this way throughout the year as reo’s pestering now turns into short conversations between you two, in which he always starts as he walks up to your desk.

You want to brush him off, but even you can’t get enough of this. You don’t know why, but you find yourself craving more because clearly these short lived moments aren’t satisfying you enough.

It only makes you more conflicted when you both share glances in the hallways, or whenever he waves to you whenever he can. In these moments, you find yourself smiling seeing him bashfully walk away with a blush as his friend drags him away.

It isn’t until the end of the year that you realize how you start to feel the flutter in your heart whenever reo is near, or that feeling of jealousy as you see others trying to hog him all for themselves. You can only sit as you watch, knowing that you feel more for him than you eventually thought.

It’s now your second year, a new year and you feel yourself hoping to have at least one class with reo as you walk through the hallways.

You feel a sense of happiness wash over you as you know you have two classes with reo, your last class you two share gives you the perfect view to spare glances at him—which leads you both to smile as he gives you a small wave. Similar to the year before, this continues for the rest of the months to come.

It’s most of the talk right now, the dance that the school holds every winter. Everyone talks the talk, throughout the hallway and even when entering the classroom.

“Are you going?”

“Who are you going with?”

You stand behind your desk as you talk with some others, until you look to the side and see reo enter into the classroom. You immediately look away before smiling as you ponder the question if reo is going.

“Hey, [name]…” he now stands in front of you as he grabs something behind your for the class, it isn’t the first time he’s been eye to eye with you like this.

“Hi reo.”

You notice his odd attitude, but it’s similar to other times whenever he talked to you at times. He looks away, almost wondering if he should say what he wants to. He then looks back at you asking you, “are you going to the dance?”

You feel taken aback at the question, since it is coming from reo. But you know everyone is talking about it, so you try and brush this feeling away.

“Oh…I actually don’t know yet. I know a couple of my friends are going but…you know.”

You laugh a bit wanting but reo takes your words and feels himself wanting to ask more. But the bell ringing is causing a disturbance to him as it indicates class will start, giving him no time to say what he wants.

“Are you going?” You quickly ask, seeing others starting to head down to their seats.

“Ah…yeah, why not!”

Reo says sheepishly, he looks down before giving you a grin as he walks to his seat to get ready for the class.

If anything, reo wasn’t actually planning to go—but he views this as an opportunity to at least ask you to go with him, hoping it will change your mind about going to the dance. With him.

[woahjo]

bird of prey (tendou x reader) - chapter 3

series masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tendou x Reader, Bokuto x Reader

Series Summary: Satori Tendou is your best friend, but you fuck for fun.

Chapter Title: Act I, Scene 3 — Pomegranate

Chapter Summary: Work is a nice distraction sometimes. Satori uses it as his own personal way to forget the shit he doesn't want to think about. It's a shame that said shit walks through the front door.

Chapter Content Warnings: afab!reader, tendou's pov, college au, friends with benefits, no strings attached, angst, jealousy, competition, insecurity, tension, sexualization of a fruit (my bad), dirty pictures / suggestive conversation, multiple partners (not cheating)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: After many moons, she's back and in the same exact outfit she wore 6 months ago. crossposted to ao3 ofc.

< prev |next >

“So what if they're seeing someone else?” Wakatoshi says, tossing him the small, round figure they’d been throwing back and forth. “Has that stuff ever really bothered you before?” 

Satori is a contradictory person, he thinks. There is a lot about him that he feels defies definition. An unplaceable sense of desire that radiates from every crevice in his body. Something about him that he can both hide, but never hope to conceal. 

“Not really,” Satori responds. 

He’s reclined on his bed, his neck craned at an awkward angle against the headboard. Wakatoshi sits across the room at his desk chair, one foot pushing him absentmindedly back and forth. 

“So what’s the issue?” Wakatoshi questions, his baritone voice bouncing lightly off of the walls. 

“Not really sure,” Satori says, turning the object over in his hand before tossing it back. “I just don’t… like it.” 

“But you don’t wanna go out with them?” He raises the question like it baffles him, which Satori supposes that it does. Wakatoshi has always been… monogamous, for lack of a better term. When he likes something, he goes for it without thinking about anything else. 

Satori isn’t quite like that. That’s not to say that he’s considerate, because consideration requires a sort of awareness for others that Satori lacks in a very abstract sense, but he’s calculating. What Satori does, he does because he wants to and because it feels right, but he considers the dynamic of it. He thinks often about what “could be” in an extreme sense and then seeks out that thrill with whoever he has in mind. 

“It’s not really in the agreement,” Satori laughs dryly and with no particular disdain. 

“It could be,” Wakatoshi says, his ideal state of mind peering through. 

Satori just gives Wakatoshi a pointed glance before turning his attention to the window. 

Late November this time of year sees the beginning of snowfall and as December begins to get going in full swing, snow comes down often. Thick, powder-like clusters flurry past his window outside, clinging to the small divots on the outside of the window. It begins to crowd his view and if he were to glance out of the window, he’d see that the streetlight outside is hazy and looks somehow distant. 

“I like what we have going though,” he says, not with any particular sort of conviction. “It works for me and it’s nice. The sex is good and their company is great. It seems like a shame for it to end.” 

“They haven’t said anything about ending it yet though, have they?” He tilts his head. 

Satori shakes his head noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders briefly. 

It’s true that you haven’t. The two of you tip-toe carefully around the subject of your relationship to Bokuto, but you never break it off. Each time you finish and lay sweat-soaked and panting in each other’s company, Satori gets the distinct feeling that it’s coming, but it never quite does. The ball never drops and he vaguely feels like there’s a space there for him to speak. To maybe be the bigger person and do it himself. He doesn’t think he will though, he likes this far too much to end it. 

“Not yet,” Satori says. “But they’ve been seeing each other for more than a few weeks now and from what I know, it’s pretty regular, so… you know… matter of time, I guess.” 

Wakatoshi doesn’t really say anything. He’s never been a man of all too many words. Satori shouldn’t find his silence unsettling, but for some reason he does. It’s like a quiet confirmation. 

Satori is an idealistic person at times. The world, for him, is played in saturated color. It’s vibrant and it glitters. He’s never been all too preoccupied with the negative side of situations because when things sour, Satori is exceptionally good at cutting his losses. There’s fun and then there’s not fun and they exist in two completely different universes. Satori happens to exist in the fun one, where he never has to take anything all too seriously. 

Maybe it’s a negative quality of his. He sometimes thinks that if he never takes anything too seriously, he’ll never have to worry about getting hurt, and if he’s always having fun, there’s no room for pain. Satori doesn’t like pain or discomfort. He has a very low tolerance for it and he’s never been too keen to stick around and see where the limit is. Of course, the flip side of this is that Satori inadvertently causes pain wherever he goes. Carelessness acts as a sort of medium for it, one that he himself manages to circumvent. 

You have been the first arrangement where he’s avoided that particular discomfort. The discomfort of causing another person pain. You just get it and in the process, you get him. 

“The futon is in the closet,” Satori says, sinking down into his bed and pulling the comforter up to his chin. 

He hears Wakatoshi get up from the chair and it gives a distinct click as it moves back into its fully upright position. There’s the gentle squeak of the thin closet door, the soft sound of a blanket rustling, and then the click of the closet latch. Satori listens as Wakatoshi lays the futon out on the carpeted floor beside his bed, the distinct ruffle of it as he throws it out and slowly lays it down. As Wakatoshi crawls to lay down, Satori glances over at him, watching his friend’s broad body get under the blanket he’d laid out with it. 

“You know that it’s really impolite to make your guests get out their own futon, right?” Wakatoshi says absentmindedly as he settles in. 

“You’re more like family,” Satori grins, the corners of his lips curling up. “And since I’m older, you should do it yourself.” 

Wakatoshi blows a quick puff of air out of his nose and Satori gives a small chuckle as he settles in. There’s a long beat of silence as Satori turns out the light and they lay in the dark room. He can hear as Wakatoshi turns over and then finally settles and lays on his back. 

“I think it’s worth talking to them about,” Wakatoshi adds, picking up the previous conversation as if it had never stopped. “You’re stupid if you don’t.” 

Satori lets out one quick laugh. “Maybe I’m stupid, I don’t know.” 

Wakatoshi groans a little and Satori is a bit surprised to see him show that sort of frustration over something other than volleyball. He laughs a little and stares at the ceiling. 

“What?” 

He hears the sound of Wakatoshi shaking his head against the pillow. “Nothing. It just sounds to me like you like them.” 

“Well,” Satori muses. “I do. Obviously. They’re one of my best friends, how could I not?” 

“Like that?” Wakatoshi emphasizes.

Satori just sort of hums noncommittally and it isn’t long before the room has settled into silence, evened out by Wakatoshi’s breathing. 

Satori supposes that there may be love there. There has to be. Maybe it’s not the kind Wakatoshi thinks he’s looking at, but Satori is near certain that it exists. 

—

Satori works part time in a small izakaya. It’s an out-of-the-way, run down place, but he likes it. At first, he only picked up the job to help pay for his car, since the shit-mobile’s expenses were dipping a little too far into savings, but now, he finds that it’s a nice escape. For some reason, the space feels like he’s just walked into a picture. 

It hasn’t been redecorated since the place opened and it’s dressed in a classic Japanese style. The space is small, no more than 8 tatami mats for the sitting area, giving it a pleasantly stuffy and crowded feel, and it always smells vaguely of barbecued meat and beer. Satori thought the smell was unpleasant at first. He didn’t like the way it clung to his clothes, giving the impression that he’d spent the evening drinking, but now he’s grown rather used to it. It’s become one of the many smells he sometimes carries with him. 

The outside of it is modest, just down a step from the sidewalk, with a small sliding door that is always open during daytime business hours. There’s a glowing neon sign just outside, protruding from the side of the building and into the alleyway. It’s the most marketing this place does, but that suits it fine. Most of its customers live in the neighborhood anyway and tourists are infrequent visitors, as there are far trendier bars in Sendai. 

The inside is homely and gives the distinct impression of having walked into somewhere familiar. Just inside the doorway, there is a small area to remove your shoes, along with cubbies lining the wall. As Satori enters, he sees a few pairs of shoes already inside and he slips his own off carefully and puts them in the staff section along the other side of the entryway. Haruna’s shoes are already in there. A pair of neat black flats, worn at the toes and creased just behind where the balls of her feet would be, tucked squarely into the left middle cubby. She stands on her tiptoes a lot. Akio’s shoes are also in the cubbies. He wears a pair of old white sneakers with soles so worn that they’re completely smooth in the center. 

His work shoes, the uniform ones meant for the kitchen and behind the bar, are just beyond the main room and around the corner. Satori enters the izakaya without a bow. He’s so accustomed to being here that he no longer does it and Haruna just tosses him a pointed look from where she’s rounding the corner to the staff area. 

“You’re late,” she comments. “Your shift started ten minutes ago.” 

Haruna has a pointed way of speaking. Her words are sharp on her tongue and almost nothing slips past her. 

“You keepin’ track of my punch card now, Runa?” Satori laughs, breezing past her to punch it in the old fashioned machine by the wall. It’s not even automatic. Satori has to physically push the stamp to make it work. 

“No, I’m keeping track of when I get to go home,” she scoffs. “We only have a thirty minute overlap today and I can’t leave if you’re not here.” 

“But I am here,” he teases. 

“You’re lucky Daisuke likes you so much,” Haruna scowls, scrunching her nose. 

Satori shrugs his shoulders and fastens his apron, walking behind the bar without a proper response. Haruna just shakes her head a little. 

She’s really not a bad person. Haruna is actually really enjoyable and Satori likes working with her, she’s just… particular about how she works. She doesn’t like working longer than she’s scheduled. It fucks up her mojo as she would put it. Satori finds it endearing, despite her being nearly six years older than him. 

Haruna actually works two jobs, one in a retail office and another here at the izakaya. Her other job is what the flats are for. He only ever sees her actual shoes on weekends. 

“What are you even doing here?” She says, coming to stand next to him behind the bar as she gathers small plates on a tray. “You don’t usually work Thursdays.” 

She’s right. Satori usually works on Sundays, Mondays, and Fridays. 

“Yasu called out, so I’m covering,” he states plainly. 

“Why are you doing that?” She pulls a face. 

Satori places a beer in front of a customer at the counter and then leans one hand on the bar. He lets his weight rest on his shoulder, causing it to rise to his ear as he tilts his head. 

“Are you not overjoyed to see me?” 

Haruna doesn’t dignify his tease with an answer and he clicks his tongue with mock-disappointment. 

“Needed a break,” he says. 

“So you came��� to work?” She laughs, a plate topped with sprouts in her hand. “Yeah, right.” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, “I needed a break so I came to work. You gonna keep grilling me and wait for those bean sprouts to become full-blown mung beans or what?” 

“Smartass,” she mutters. 

Satori hums again and it’s not long before she’s back around the corner and serving a table on the far end of the izakaya. 

He falls quickly into a rhythm, calling back orders to Akio in the kitchen. Satori disappears a little when he works. It’s like he goes on autopilot. Satori doesn’t like rules, but when he goes into work by choice, especially when he feels he has a lot on his plate, he seems to appreciate the work flow a little more. Besides, his job is relatively relaxed. As long as Satori serves drinks and food, he’s golden. 

Of course, another one of his stress relief methods is photography. Pictures of the things he likes, beautiful things that some people find ugly or without taste. Usually sexual things—pornographic, as his classmates might say. In his second year, Satori did a photo series in his film photography course centered around a pomegranate. He only used one and he carved it up over the course of many days. He let the fruit bleed, nearly rot, and photographed it throughout the process. He liked the color of it, so red and inviting, and the photos seemed to give off the distinct tarte smell of the peel. His classmates said that it made them particularly uncomfortable and that the pomegranate, which was really just a fruit, no longer felt like something inanimate by the end of the photo series, but rather something alive—or something that was once alive. It’s a little abstract, but that’s exactly what Satori was going for. 

He can’t really take photos in this situation. Lately, you’ve been a bit of a muse to him. There are aspects of you he’d like to photograph and when Satori wants to photograph something, he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He thought about that pomegranate for weeks. About the roundness of the juice-full seeds, the way they began to dry out and the ones that survived long enough to shine amongst the bunches of dried pulp. A small part of him regrets not eating it. 

Ideally, he’d like to disappear into the lens of his camera for a bit. Look at the world through the little window at the top of it and enjoy the December season behind glass. Maybe it was a bit of a hasty idea to make you the central point of his project for his self study class. After his conversation with Wakatoshi earlier this week, he’s afraid that the pictures will chronicle his marvelous, long overdue downfall. By the end of it, the photos will no longer be of your back from a few inches away, but rather of your face in a crowd of people he’s never met, surrounded on all sides and taken from feet away. He never wants to use a distance lens on you. He’d take your picture with a microscope if he could, if only to see the cellular composition of your skin. 

He’s deep in these thoughts when the inner paper door of the izakaya slides open with a thud and a raucous composition of three voices. His coworkers welcome them in, but Satori is so caught up in the thought of you and the pomegranate that he forgets, idly wiping at a glass in his hands and staring blankly at the shining, translucent rim. 

“Tendou?” A voice calls, baritone and confident. They sound almost surprised. 

He looks up from the class and is greeted with eager, gold eyes and thick expressive eyebrows. 

“Bokuto,” he says, his lips curling into a faux smile. So much for getting his mind off of things. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“Well, we were in the area,” he laughs a little, motioning his head to the people who begin to seat themselves at the bar near him. 

There are two other people with him, a girl and a boy. The boy he recognizes as someone who usually hands around Bokuto, but he’s never seen the girl before. She’s got a mid-length, reddish-brown bob and calm eyes. She doesn’t look up as she peruses through the menu and Satori gets the distinct feeling that Haruna might like her. 

“You gonna drink, Akaashi?” Bokuto turns to his friend with a raised eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” he says, “If I get a beer are you gonna pressure me to drink four more afterwards?” 

“When have I ever done that?” Bokuto questions. 

“You do it every time we go out to drink,” the girl chimes in. “Why do you think you always have to beg him?” Then, she turns her attention to Satori. “Three beers and two orders of beef skewers, please.” 

“That’s so not true,” Bokuto responds indignantly. “But also, why end the party just ‘cause your glass is empty. Might as well get more.” 

“Here he goes,” the girl laughs. 

“Yukie, don’t just order for me,” Akaashi chides the girl for getting him a beer. 

“You know you’d have caved eventually,” she says calmly. “Let’s not go through all the back and forth this time. Bokuto’s a hard person to say no to.” 

“Hey, woah,” Bokuto turns to Akaashi and gives his friend a genuine look. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just saying that I’ll be so crushed and sad and depressed if you cancel the order. That’s all.” 

Bokuto speaks earnestly, like he doesn’t realize how hypocritical he sounds as he talks and his friends chuckle pleasantly at his airheaded demeanor. It’s too late to cancel the order anyway. Satori eavesdrops on their conversation as he fills their glasses with the house beer. He’s already pouring the third. Akaashi is getting one whether he likes it or not. 

“Three beers,” Satori sets them down in front of each of them. “Skewers’ll be out in a second.” 

“Thanks man,” Bokuto says, pleased as he takes a sip of the amber liquid. “Drink up, Keiji.”

The grill is just behind the bar facing the guests. Since the izakaya is rather homestyle, Satori prepares and grills things like skewers directly in front of guests, though it’s not really for performance purposes. Right now, he wishes that Akio were in charge of cooking things like this. That way, Satori wouldn’t have to stand directly in front of Bokuto and his friends for all too long. No matter, he can deal with it. It’s not like he particularly dislikes Bokuto. 

“I thought you’d be with ____ tonight,” Bokuto says brightly as Satori places the first of the skewer sets on the grill. Akaashi gives him a somewhat mortified, sideways look. 

Satori smirks down at the grill and flips a skewer with one hand. His lips curl at the corners and he pleasantly takes in the idea that Bokuto had assumed you’d be with him. 

“What makes you think that?” He smiles, his words a little slimy. 

Bokuto shrugs his shoulders, leaning up to look at the meat on the grill. He doesn’t spare Satori a glance as he watches it. 

“Well, they’re usually with you no?” He says evenly. “Otherwise they’re with Yuki. Maybe Alice or Keiko. Oh, not this Yukie, though.” He jostles the girl’s shoulder and she lets out a huff of air as she struggles not to spill the drink held up to her mouth. 

Satori shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head briefly at the assumption that he wouldn’t have noticed that this Yukie is an entirely different person from the one he met at the party. Then, he gives Bokuto a slick grin and returns his attention to the meat on the grill, satisfied with Bokuto’s relief.  

“You know,” Bokuto starts, “I’m a little relieved they’re not with you right now. The idea was making me jealous.” 

Satori furrows his eyebrows and lets out a small laugh. Bokuto looks almost bashful, though not in an insecure way. Instead, the statement almost gives him an indiscernible look of unknowing confidence. Bokuto doesn’t have to worry about divulging this information to Satori because he doesn’t even view it as a competition. Neither does Satori really, but it irritates him that Bokuto is so nonchalant about his confidence. It’s almost like he’s sure that things will work out for him. Satori isn’t sure if that’s something with his personality or something that you told him, and the idea unsettles him. 

“Well, I’m here,” Satori says, plating two skewers of meat and starting on the next two. His eyes dart up to look at Bokuto over the tops of his cheeks, tone dipping slightly with the next part of his statement as his lips curl up in the corners. “And so are you. No harm, no foul.” 

Bokuto nods his head a little at the slight. He picks up on it, Satori can tell that much, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show. The comment rolls off of Bokuto’s broad shoulders and he moves on to the next topic with an almost unintentional ease. Yukie glances up at Satori briefly, her expression closed and unreadable before she returns her gaze to Bokuto. 

Even the steam from the skewers gets caught up in Bokuto’s social pull. It floats towards him evenly, almost as if it’s drawn to the openness of his expression. Satori idly works on the second plate of them, turning the wooden skewers with his bare hands over a crosshatch grill. Bokuto’s voice carries and as Satori busies himself with the remaining order of skewers, he can see the way other patrons of the izakaya glance at where he sits at the bar. He passes the plate over the counter, setting it down in front of the group. 

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he offers before starting off to the other end to help a few other patrons. 

Satori briefly studies the sort of looks Bokuto receives, his eyes slinking across strangers’ expressions. Most of them, it seems, are admiring. They look at him as if there is something there to be desired, something they’d like to take for themselves or experience. Bokuto carries on with his loud conversation obliviously and Satori wonders if he truly doesn’t notice that people are looking at him or if he’s so accustomed to it that it no longer phases him. It’s likely the latter and Tendou furrows his eyebrows momentarily before setting down a glass of dark beer in front of an older patron. She thanks him with a practiced smile, curling her shoulders forward as she takes a sip.

“Hey!” Bokuto calls from across the bar. His voice rises above the conversation in the room and if the whole room weren’t already aware of his presence, they certainly were now. “C’mere for a sec.” 

Bokuto waves Satori over casually and he obliges, slinking over and leaning forward on the bar with a raised eyebrow. Bokuto raises his glass of beer to his lips with open posture, tilting his head up slightly and taking a large gulp. There’s not a hint of shyness in his movements. All of it is executed with an oblivious, admirable confidence. 

“Yes?” Satori questions, glancing at the half empty beer in front of him. “You wanna prematurely order another drink?” 

Bokuto swallows and sets his glass down, shaking his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Akaashi makes a face at him. 

“Nah,” he says, leaning forward a little. “I wanted to ask you something.” 

Tendou raises an eyebrow and Bokuto offers him a broad smile that feels too friendly for their relationship. It’s all teeth, surrounded by full and round lips. 

“You and _____,” he starts. Yukie sighs heavily and glances at Akaashi, who shrugs his shoulders in a defeated manner. “What’s going on there?’ 

Satori is caught off guard by the question, though he really shouldn’t be. Bokuto has proven time and time again to be so forward that it borders on stupid. 

“Why do you ask?” He grins lightly. 

Bokuto gives Satori a bashful look, running his hand down his face to cover the expression he wears. It does little to hide it and the gaps in his fingers and color of his cheeks betray a recklessly confident emotion that makes Satori wonder through what light Bokuto even sees him. 

“Ah, well, you know,” Bokuto says. “We’ve been talking.” 

Satori nods slowly, subconsciously chewing the skin on the inside of his cheek. What he wouldn’t give to be able to leave this conversation. 

“So?” Boktuo presses. 

Satori’s lips curl up in the corners, his expression twisting into something cat-like and aware. It’s not quite friendly, but Satori’s never had that sort of face. 

“We’re friends,” he offers. 

“Friends?” Bokuto says, perking up a little. “What kind?” 

“Good friends,” Satori says, sticking his tongue in his cheek so that it rests over a sharp canine. 

Bokuto nods, his body language opening up a little bit. Satori examines the way he moves, the confidence in the breath he lets out, as if the idea that Satori might be lying has never even crossed his mind. That, or it betrays the idea that Bokuto doesn’t even view Satori as being in the same playing field. Both are irritatingly casual and he rolls his head over his shoulders as if to rid himself of the tension. 

“So you don’t mind?” Bokuto adds, his words a little more measured. “If I ask them out?” 

Satori momentarily grits his teeth, raising an eyebrow as he returns Bokuto’s gaze. On either side of him, Akaashi and Yukie are suspiciously minding their own business. 

“Why would I mind?” Satori answers, hiding the way his stomach clenches unpleasantly. He greases up his words with a curled smile, as if the idea is amusing to him. 

Bokuto looks at him for a moment before setting both of his hands on the counter and leaning back with a wide grin. 

“That’s good,” Bokuto says, his tone returning to the light and somewhat airheaded tone he usually maintains. “Probably would have made things awkward if you did when we start goin’ out.” 

Bokuto says this with his head angled down, picking up a skewer and taking a bite out of it. 

“Oh, this is good,” he says to Akaashi, putting the skewer in front of his face. “Try it.” 

Satori comes to the quick realization that Bokuto hadn’t been asking for permission. He’d been letting Satori know that he’ll be asking you out. It wasn’t a question of if he can, but rather a warning that it will happen regardless of what Satori wants. The arrogance of it makes his skin crawl. 

There’s a confidence about Bokuto when he talks about you. Something intrinsic within his person. A haughty, unabashed confidence that things will just work out for him, so much so that he hardly seems to notice when he says something arrogant. Even worse, his arrogance comes across as justified.

It’s rare that people genuinely get on Satori’s nerves, but Bokuto does. Bokuto grates on him like sandpaper and Satori can’t help but click his jaw as he turns around and returns to his duties. There’s something in the way he talks about you, as if you’ve already handed yourself over to him, that makes Satori feel uneasy. It would be unfair to say that you’re Satori’s. After all, it’s just sex, but he can’t help but feel some sort of possessiveness over you. You’re not just a fuck buddy either, you’re a friend, someone he connects with on a very real level. To have Bokuto reduce the relationship between the two of you to something as definable as “minding” provokes him. 

Of course, this sort of thing is likely inevitable. It’s not like Satori plans to put any sort of ring on your finger. Shit, he doesn’t even intend to put any sort of label on it. For Satori, this is fun. It’s fun he’s not exactly eager to give up. It’s his. This discomfort, however, toes the line and he can feel the way the urge to just let go creeps up on him. Satori’s never been all that much of a fighter, even when it comes to the things he adores. Boredom follows displeasure quite quickly with him. 

Bokuto and his friends linger for the larger portion of his shift, chatting idly. Like Yukie said, Bokuto pressures Akaashi into quite a few more drinks and by the time they leave, the two boys’ figures are swaying as if thrown softly off their axis, pushed and pulled by imaginary breezes. They settle their tab with cash on the counter and clamor out with a final wave. Yukie, the soberest of the group, stops in the doorway to give Satori a look that he can only interpret as apologetic. The sort of look you give someone who has started a losing battle. 

He laughs to himself at it, lowering his gaze as he clears away their plates and wipes down the counter. None of them even know the half of it. Not the way you whisper to him, the way you look at him, the curve of your body in his camera lens. What do they know about the two of you? 

—- 

The air outside is cold when Satori steps out of the izakaya and shuts the sliding door behind him. It makes his cheeks and nose feel like they’re being pinched and as he exhales, he can see the billow of clouded breath that leaves his open mouth. The street is calm in the way city streets get on weekdays in the late evening and the streetlamps create a familiar glow across the black pavement. He pulls his phone out of his coat pocket, studying for a moment the way his knuckles redden in the cold. 

Satori: Saw your boyfriend today. 

You: Not my boyfriend. 

Satori grins at your message, exhaling through his nose and shaking his head. He’s unable to hide his pleasure at the quickness of your response. 

You: Where? 

That’s a little less funny. 

Satori: Work.

You: I thought you didn’t work today? 

Satori: Someone called out. 

You: Sucks lol 

Satori tucks the device and his hands away in his coat pockets after liking the message, stepping further out into the street and starting off in the direction of his apartment. He focuses on his breathing, distracted by the way his breath comes in clouds that he leaves behind. His cheeks burn and his lips are chapped from the delicate nip of the cold. A thin layer of snow tucks itself away at the edge of the street, fading out into puddles on the road. 

Some part of Satori regrets the answer he’d given Bokuto. So noncommittal and careless. He’s never been one to give the whole truth, but it’s obvious to anyone that the two of you are fucking. Even his photography class knows it. 

For some reason, it makes Satori feel worse that Bokuto didn’t even squirm. He hadn’t even stopped to consider that maybe he’d lose. What Bokuto would be losing, he isn’t sure, but he knows that it never even crossed the other man’s mind. 

Satori hates losing. He’ll stop competing if it means he doesn’t have to admit that he did. He’d rather not play at all than get burned doing it. Even when he played volleyball, he’d been noncommittal. When his team lost in his final year of high school, he’d let it roll off of his shoulders because it was just for fun anyway, the thrill of the game. What’s fun about a game where he loses? Or worse, a game that he wasn’t even considered to compete in in the first place but thought he’d been playing all along. Yukie had given him a look like that, like he was only on the team to be kept from being left out. Satori likes high stakes, but he’ll take the bets he knows he can win.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he gets back to his apartment, vibrating quietly in his pocket when he slides the key into his lock.

You sent an image 

You: How about something like this for your photography project? 

It’s a dimly lit photo of your legs, cut off just before the apex of your thighs where they meet your center. One knee is bent, leaning against the other outstretched leg, and in the mirror across from you he can just barely make out where your bare ass rests on your duvet cover, shadow hiding the place on you he most wants to see. He stares momentarily at the photo, feeling the way blood rushes to his lower half. 

Satori: I’d rather keep something like this for myself. 

You: Good, that’s who it’s meant for. 

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 1

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None really in this first chapter.

Word Count: 2,656

A/N: Okay, so this is the series that I orphaned over on fanfiction.net and I conducted a poll on what people wanted me to do with it if I brought it over to Tumblr. Converting it into a Dean x Reader AU won quite handily. So, that's what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy.

Just so everyone knows, this is a historical AU set in 1900, and there is no hunting involved. (Though there is a family business. 😄)

Dean Winchester was bored; he admitted it. He was bored of the balls, the soirees, the empty conversations, the glittering jewels and the painted smiles. He needed a break. So he'd left New York City and all its glamor and come to Newburgh to spend time with his brother, Sam, Sam's wife Jessica and their little girl, Lucy.

However, now that he was standing in the quiet train station, waiting for Sam to pick him up, he had to wonder what he'd been thinking. With the sleepy ticket agent sitting behind the counter, gently dozing, and an old man sitting on a bench, lazily browsing through a local newspaper, this no longer seemed like a solution to his restlessness and boredom. This place actually seemed like the town that boredom was born and raised in!

But what could it hurt to stay for a week or two? He'd visit with Sam and Jessica, see how much Lucy had grown in the last year and maybe it would wash away the taste of sweaty, over-crowded ballrooms and smoky parlors with too much lemon furniture polish.

He shook his head. He didn't know what had gotten into him lately. That life was all he'd ever been interested in. Certainly, he'd never wanted his brother's life. Slaving away at his private law firm, saddled with a wife and child, and living in the middle of nowhere, a six hour train ride away from civilization; it had always horrified him.

In the last few months, however, the idea of breathing fresh air, of laughing with and even arguing with his brother, of bouncing his niece on his knee, and even the idea of listening to Jessica's bouncy chatter, had been growing in his mind until it was a constant disruption in his thoughts. So, he'd left the reins of his family's shipping and trade business in the hands of his very capable manager and sent a telegram to Sam that he was coming to stay, and to pick him up at the station.

But Sam was late. Dean had been waiting nearly an hour. Tired of standing around, Dean decided to wander a little. He woke up the ticket agent briefly to ask if he could leave his suitcase behind the desk with a message for his brother. The agent yawned and gave him a pen and paper, reaching over to take his suitcase.

"Thanks." He said to the agent, and set off on his quest to cure his boredom. There had to be something in this town to interest him.

Sam,

Got tired of waiting for you. Went exploring. Be back in an hour - two o'clock.

D.

***

Y/N breathed in deeply, and let out a long sigh. The air was crisp, fall air that smelled faintly of damp leaves, spice, and wood smoke. It was a warm and inviting smell and it made the lonely chasm inside her heart widen.

"Miss Y/N, watch!"

Y/N gave her attention back to the little girl who was running down the hill, scattering the birds, and laughing loudly. She couldn't help but smile at the little hellion. It might not be very ladylike behavior, but she wasn't even four years old yet. Y/N decided to save the admonishment and let her be a carefree little girl while she could. These years of innocence and abandon were fleeting. The little one should enjoy them.

"Hello."

Y/N jumped abruptly at a man's deep voice. With a hand over her thumping heart, Y/N turned to scowl at the stranger who'd startled her. As she looked up into his face however, her scowl melted and her heart started beating hard enough to jump out of her chest.

The man was smiling at her, a smile that hitched up one side of his mouth and made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. He was very tall, towering above her where she sat on the park bench. The perfectly tailored, brown traveling coat he wore stretched across broad shoulders and narrowed in a V shape over his flat stomach. His wool pants were of very fine quality and accentuated the strength and muscle of the legs beneath them.

He was beautiful, there was no doubt, but his eyes were something more than beautiful. They were a bright emerald green, long-lashed and penetrating. They stared into Y/N, like he could see through to her back collar button. His eyes alone caused Y/N to blush and she realized she was blushing because there were promises in his eyes, promises of something dark and sensual and all consuming.

He was speaking. She tried to clear the buzzing in her brain so she could hear him.

…"Dean."

She shook her head. "What?" she asked quietly.

He chuckled softly and Y/N's stomach clenched at the sound.

"Dean. I said my name is Dean Winchester and I asked you for yours."

"Y/N!"

At the sound of her name, Y/N turned, thinking wildly for a moment that someone had simply been telling this man her name, but then she realized it was Mr. Winchester, her boss. And as she realized this, the name the man had just given her penetrated through the haze in her mind.

She looked back at the stranger. "Winchester?"

But he wasn't looking at her anymore; he was looking at her boss who was jogging slightly towards them. "Dean!" he called out. "You weren't at the station, so I thought I'd track you down. Sorry I'm late." Mr. Winchester threw his arms around the man and pulled him into what looked like a bone crushing hug. But the man simply pounded Mr. Winchester on the back before her boss turned to face her.

“You’ve met my brother?”

***

Dean closed the door of his wardrobe and leaned against it, closing his eyes so he could bring that perfect face into his mind's eye. Beautiful (y/c) eyes, soft features, and an incredibly succulent mouth. He'd immediately had plans for those perfect lips and he'd already begun imagining them beneath his own, or moving down his body, slowly…

Then suddenly, he'd heard his brother's voice and was crushed in an embrace. When he pulled away, he could see the woman (Y/N?) was blushing profusely and trying to stare a hole into the ground.

He had quickly learned this woman was governess to his niece, his brother making the formal introductions. Lucy came running over and launched herself into Dean's arms.

"Uncle Dean! What did you bring me?"

"Lucy, manners." Sam had scolded. 

But Dean chuckled, and pulled gently on one of her braids. "I have lots for you, kiddo, but it's back at the station."

So, Sam had herded them all back towards the station. He'd told Lucy and her governess that they should get into the carriage as well and ride home with them, but Y/N had refused quickly, blushing again.

"No. Thank you, Sir. You're very kind, but Lucy needs to stretch her legs and wear off her energy. We'll walk back. I'll have her ready for supper at six o'clock." With that she took off with Lucy's hand in hers, walking fast enough that the little girl had to jog a bit to keep up.

"What did you do?" Sam had asked immediately, cuffing Dean none too softly in the back of the head.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "I barely said two words to the woman."

"Really?" Sam asked, disbelievingly. "Well, two words from you and my level-headed, almost stoic, governess has turned into a blushing school girl."

Dean had just grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and cuffed him again.

Now Dean was changed out of his traveling clothes and into a fresh suit having bathed and rested. And he was bored once again. Sam had returned to his office in town to see his last client of the day and Jessica was out paying calls. He wandered around their modest, but beautiful home, reacquainting himself with the warm wood floors, expensive oriental rugs, and the smell of freshly cut flowers that Jessica grew in a hothouse in the back.

After a half hour, he was officially restless and all the signs of his brother's apparent domestic bliss had him desperate to find a distraction.

He wandered into the library hoping to find a book that might do the trick. Instead he found the beautiful governess he'd met so briefly. She was sitting on a green chair in the corner. She had her legs tucked up on the seat and one stocking clad ankle was showing as it peaked out from beneath her skirts. Lucy was nowhere to be seen, and he assumed she was taking an afternoon nap.

His body thrummed with desire immediately and he had to give his head a shake. He wasn't some green boy about to lift his first skirts. He needed to get control of himself.

Then she looked up from her book, sensing him, and her look of surprise mixed with the innocent desire that flooded her gaze took that control away in an instant. He pictured pulling her into his arms, and ravishing her sweet, lush mouth, which was now open slightly in surprise.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I apologize, Miss Y/L/N. I seem to startle you each time I see you."

She closed her mouth and shook her head. "Not at all, Mr. Winchester. I'll leave you to your reading." She stood to go, but Dean leaned against the closed library door and crossed his arms.

"No, I'd like you to stay, please. Can you recommend a book? What are you reading?"

She took a moment before answering, swallowing several times. She held up the small book. "It's a book about biblical poetry."

"Oh?" Dean couldn't think of anything less interesting, but he moved to her side, and took the book from her hand as an excuse to get closer.

The scent of something sweet, but spicy hit him as he stood near her, making his head foggy, so it took him a moment to register what he was reading as he looked down at the page she'd been on, it was marked with a piece of ribbon.

Taking the ribbon out, he read the words again and then looked back at Y/N with an incredulous expression. "You were reading…this?" He turned the book back to her and pointed his finger at one passage in particular.

"Yes, that's right." Y/N confirmed. "I must confess, I'm not much of a poet, it all sounds fairly confusing to me. This poem talks about a man and woman who are gardening. What a mundane subject to write poetry about." She shrugged delicately. "But it is biblical, so I thought it could only enrich my mind."

Dean couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across his face. "This is the Song of Songs. It's love poetry."

Y/N looked puzzled. "Love? Of what, gardening?"

Dean's smile deepened. "It's written in metaphor. You know what a metaphor is, don't you?"

Y/N's expression became slightly annoyed. "Of course I know what a metaphor is, I'm a governess."

"Of course." Dean said and suddenly he had a wonderful idea. "Let me see if I can help you see the metaphor here. Sit back down, and allow me to read this section to you and see if you understand."

***

Y/N was trying hard to pull air into her lungs without appearing to pant. There must be something truly wrong with her that made these kind of thoughts run through her mind. She couldn't focus her gaze on anything. When she looked into his eyes, thoughts fled completely and her mind was just a rolling mass of red haze.

So, she tried to focus on his neck. But the column of his throat and square corner of his jaw, with it's slight shadow of stubble made her breath catch again. She looked lower to where his hands held the book. But his hands were large and his fingers were long and thick, with blunt squared tips. They made visions pop into her mind's eye, visions that no respectable lady would be having. She pictured those fingers taking hold of her hand, wrapping around it, she imagined the warmth of his skin on hers, and soon she was nothing but a mass of nerves again.

She was very proud of herself for getting words past her lips. But then he'd suggested he read to her and she heard herself agreeing. A part of her mind was telling her to simply leave, but she thought it might seem rude, he was the brother of her employer after all. So she sat.

He opened to her page and began:

Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread everywhere. Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choice fruits. I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

Y/N listened and the words themselves held no new meaning, she could find no metaphors in them. But she heard the husky timbre of his voice, heard the low rumble as his tongue and lips formed the words, and she suddenly knew that what he was saying was scandalous. She could hear the impropriety in his voice, knew it from the way it made her shiver. Quoting the bible shouldn't create such a hedonistic reaction!

She jumped to her feet, unsure of what her next move would be, but she knew she couldn't stay in this room alone with this man another minute.

Dean stood slowly, putting the book down.

"Did you like it?" He asked and his voice was rough and low, slow and drawling.

She shook her head. She definitely didn't like this feeling. Her head felt stuffed full of cotton and her body tingled. He stepped closer to her and reached out to take her hand.

It felt exactly as she had imagined. It was warm where his fingertips held hers.

"I just realized that when we were introduced earlier I was very rude. I didn't even offer a kiss for your hand."

He tugged gently on her hand and she shuffled forward until only a few inches separated them. Her breathing was rough and her mind screamed at her to pull away. But she didn't. Instead she watched as he brought the back of her hand up to meet his plump lips. They were smooth and warm, and his breath just heated her skin there.

He moved his lips slowly, turning her hand in his so he could kiss the inside pulse point of her wrist. She had to tell him to stop. He was behaving with unbelievable impropriety. But his lips…they moved again, grazing her skin as they did, up to the tip of her thumb. Then he kissed the tip of each finger, before grasping her hand more firmly and pulling her the last inch toward him, so that now she could feel the heat radiating off of him. He dipped his head and she felt his lips in the center of her palm. Suddenly she felt his tongue flick out briefly to taste her.

It was the jolt of fire that shot up her arm that brought her to her senses. She gasped loudly and wrenched her hand out of his. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the mouth that had brought on such a feeling. Then, desperately, she bolted from the room, trying to outrun the image of the heat burning in those stunning green eyes and of the wide, sensual mouth she suddenly longed to feel against her own.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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Dean Fics Only:

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

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[thesweetnessofspring]

Kiss Cam

In honor of Katniss's birthday, here's an Everlark fic I've had bouncing around my head for a few weeks. Modern AU; fluff; rated G

“I don’t know if I want to go anymore,” Katniss says from the passenger seat of Peeta’s car. But they’re already a half mile from the stadium, stuck in the traffic with everyone else going to the game. She fiddles with the vent to blow the cool air directly into her face, something to calm her.

“Come on, these seats are right behind home base!” Peeta says. 

“I know, but I can’t stand baseball anymore.”

“You shouldn’t let him take something you love from you.” Peeta waves a car through to merge into the narrowing lanes. 

“It’s just a game.”

“Not just a game. The game,” Peeta says. “Consider this a bit of exposure therapy.”

“You promise to get me as many nachos as I want?” Katniss asks.

“And peanuts and cracker jacks.”

The Mockingjay’s stadium came into full view then, no longer blocked by surrounding buildings. Katniss hates that Gale has soured baseball for her, the game her father had introduced to her, the memories she has of catching a fly ball and getting it signed by Haymitch Abernathy, of summer nights spent in the yard perfecting her throw and her swing. And the only way she could cope after her father’s death was by giving her all on the field with her teammates.

That’s where she’d met Gale, on the varsity baseball team at Lakeside High School. She had been the only freshman to make the varsity team that year and he was one of two sophomores. Together, they became an unstoppable pitcher/catcher duo. Katniss knew Gale’s every move, could read his decisions like they were her own thoughts. 

She thought it would always be like that.

“I talked them into putting on extra jalapenos.” Peeta hands Katniss her first round of nachos as she sits down following the national anthem.

Katniss takes the food from Peeta and dives in. There was nothing better in her mind than this–salty, creamy, spicy, with some crunch to top it off. She hums with approval at her first bite and smacks her lips to lick up the gooey cheese. When Katniss looks up to offer some to Peeta, she notices his eyes on her mouth–just briefly, but it sends a warm rush down her body.

She startles at the feeling and focuses instead on the players taking the field, getting a sense for the lineup. But Peeta reaches over to take a chip teetering with orange cheese and that flustering feeling comes back at the proximity, his shoulder bumping into hers.

Of course when he looked at her mouth, he was probably just noting how she was eating–he’d often teased her before about how ravenously she ate. That certainly made more sense than what had flitted across Katniss’s mind. Peeta was, after all…Peeta.

He moved into town their sophomore year of high school and immediately became popular. He played football, wrestling, and of course, baseball. This is where Katniss got to know him, an outfielder far away from where she was at home plate. Still, his arm was reliable in throwing the ball far, all the way to where she would catch the ball and get the out. She and Gale had already been dating for a year, but they’d never been that couple that excluded others. While Peeta socialized with anyone, he always prioritized the group Katniss had acquired (Gale, Darius, and Madge), and usually brought along the girl he was seeing at the time. None of them ever lasted too long.

Katniss had never been able to figure out why exactly Peeta had never been able to date anyone longer than two months. Sure, in high school that felt like forever, but when they moved onto college, it got stranger that of all the girls interested in Peeta, none of them seemed to stick around for longer than a couple months. So strange when Peeta had been the most loyal friend Katniss had ever had–or maybe she felt that way because while everyone else went away from their hometown for school, Peeta had stuck around just like Katniss, attending community college and then the local university.

That was the first big fight Katniss and Gale had gotten into. Gale received a scholarship to play baseball in a city four hours away. He wanted Katniss to come with him the next year, but she couldn’t leave her family. Her mom had to work overnights at the hospital and sleep during the day. She wasn’t going to leave Prim. Gale pointed out how he was leaving his family, too, and that they had to look at the future. The school he got the scholarship for was better than the small state school that didn’t boast any major sports teams. Better opportunities, better future. Katniss had stuck to her decision, though. She couldn’t leave Prim.

Long-distance had sucked, but Gale had seen her through some of the hardest years of her life and Katniss was never one to abandon someone she loved.

She should have just broken up with him then.

The Mockingjays versus the Mutts, their rival team. Katniss had to keep it together not to hiss when the first batter went up to the plate.

She wouldn't admit it to Peeta, but it was nice to get back into baseball again and she feels glad he pulled her out to the game today. Just watching it on TV hadn't been enough to remind her of how much she loved it. She needs the sun, the spring air, the cheers of the crowd and the kick of the nachos to bring back to life she'd once been so passionate about.

Then the first inning ends, and the jumbotron focuses in on a man and woman with a heart around them and in bold letters the instructions: GIVE YOUR SWEETHEART A KISS!

"Ugh," Katniss says when she sees it. "I hate kiss cams."

Peeta grins. "All right. Let's hear it."

"It's totally rude," Katniss says. "It puts people on the spot. Some people hate PDA. Some people are just friends, or they're siblings. And it's totally heteronormative! It pressures the kiss out of the people they feature and comes out of the blue so they're unprepared."

"Those are good points," he says. "After all, we're here together. And we're not dating."

"Exactly," Katniss says, though she wonders why her heart is squeezing in her chest so much hearing him say it.

"Though...we are both single," he says. The way he's talking, so measured and considering, makes her focus in on his words, connecting her gray eyes to his blue. "So if the kiss cam lands on us, you can kiss me if you feel like it."

She feels the blood rush to her cheeks and she doesn't know how to respond except to giggle, the thought of kissing him sending a strange flutter through her body.

"What?" Peeta asks. "That bad?"

"No," Katniss says. "No, I...I guess I'll allow it. On the cheek, of course."

"Of course," he says.

The next inning gets started and Katniss adjusts her hat to cover her face a bit more while her heart pounds in her chest. Why was the idea of kissing Peeta having such an effect on her? They were friends, had been friends for years. He'd been her best friend since the break-up eight months ago for sure. She shouldn't be having these feelings for him.

But as they talk and cheer for the Mockingjays, Katniss can't help but feel curious. She'd always thought Peeta was cute, even if she would never have admitted it out of loyalty to Gale. Plus there had been talk...she'd just been so confused about how Peeta, ever the kind, funny, warm, loyal man never kept a girlfriend for very long. Katniss had brought it up to her friend Johanna, wondering if maybe Peeta was actually gay.

"I guess I can't rule out bi," Johanna said. "But he's definitely into women."

"How are you so sure?" Katniss asked.

"Dude, we hooked up freshman year," Johanna said. "All I'm saying is, no gay guy is as into kissing a girl as Peeta Mellark."

"Was he...good?" Katniss asked. Being into and being good at were two separate things, after all.

"Really good," Johanna confirmed. "If he wasn't so goody-goody it would have been perfect."

Maybe that's all it is, Katniss thinks. Loneliness mixed with friendship and the burden of knowing that friend is apparently a really good kisser.

Between the fifth and sixth inning, Katniss gets up to go pee, hoping for the line to be short, but of course it's not. She takes her place and checks her phone, where a text from Prim comes in.

Having fun at the game?

Katniss types out a response: Yeah, only I think I might be into Peeta now?

The message is sent off with a swoop noise. That's when a woman coming from washing her hands stops and plants herself in front of Katniss.

"Hey, Katniss Everdeen!" she says. It's Clove Sanchez, someone Katniss had gone to school with, and was one of the girls Peeta had briefly dated.

"Oh, hi Clove," Katniss says. "How have you been?"

"Great!" Clove gives a smug smile. "My Instagram has hit a hundred thousand followers, and District Knives is sponsoring my content. Plus, I'm dating Cato Larsen."

Cato Larsen, the Mockingjay's starting shortstop. He looked like a caveman to Katniss, but Clove had always been the type of person to go for the best, which is why she'd sunk her claws into Peeta for a few weeks in high school.

"How about you?" Clove asks, and by the glint in her eye Katniss can tell she's trying to goad her.

"Good," Katniss replies briefly. "Yeah, things are good."

"I heard about you and Gale online." Clove pouts with fake sympathy. "So sorry about that."

"Well, it was for the best." Usually Katniss hates that kind of cliché phrasing, but dealing with people's comments about the end of her seven-year relationship warranted them. The only people she'd really shared her thoughts with about the situation had been Prim and Peeta. Other people like Madge and Darius warranted more details than others, since they were also friends with Gale, but it wasn't anyone else's business.

Finally a stall opens up and Katniss says, "Good catching up. I'm just going to–"

She points toward the toilet and escapes Clove. In the stall she takes a few deep breaths. Damn Gale.

They'd survived long-distance through college and Gale was getting scouted by the major leagues. The Mockingjays had made an offer, and Katniss had been ecstatic he could come back home. Then the offer from The Trappers came along, and they were a better team. The Mockingjays, admittedly, hadn't been good for the past fifteen years, so it was the better career move.

They were going to do one more year long-distance while Katniss finished up her bachelors degree. But something shifted then. Gale was the hot new rookie, pulling The Trappers from a middle-ranking team to battling for a spot in the championships. And college was very different from the pros.

Katniss, who had never been into social media much and kept everything private, had hundreds of requests to follow her from random people she didn't know. But they had figured out she was Gale's long-term girlfriend from his own posts and were curious. Worst were the comments on his pictures. Most were kind, but others seemed determined to drag her down. Criticizing how she looked, how they perceived her personality, claiming she wasn't hot enough for him, or only with him for the money. Katniss asked Gale to not post pictures of her anymore, which upset him.

"I'm trying to build my image," Gale said. "I'll get better brand deals if I have an angle to it, and part of that is you. You're my girlfriend. I want to be a solid example of a good family man, and you're part of that."

"Family man?" Katniss asked. They'd talked about kids in the far future, but they didn't have any plans soon. They hadn't even discussed marriage outside of a future, undetermined time.

"Yeah," Gale said, "After my dad left us, I had to look to other men to figure out who to be. I want to be that for other boys who might be like me."

"I hate the attention I'm getting, though," Katniss said. "I don't want to live a public life!"

"This is my career," Gale said. "It's part of the job."

They had never really been able to settle the argument. Gale didn't post pictures anymore without Katniss's permission, and occasionally she'd allow a story, but nothing permanent. Toward the end of Gale's first season, Katniss had flown out to see a game, but in his hotel room they ended with an argument about the same issue regarding social media and Gale's career. Then Gale proposed a compromise: they get married and have a baby.

"What?" Katniss asked. "How is that a compromise?"

"I'll be able to play up the dad angle and you can stay private," Gale said.

Katniss's mouth flew open. "I can't believe you want to have a baby to market yourself."

"We're going to have one anyway eventually!" Gale said.

"I don't want my kids all over Instagram where any creep can see them!"

They never recovered from that. Katniss went back home a single woman for the first time in seven years. Several pity parties with Prim and Peeta, a new job, and some time later, she felt steady enough.

Her phone pings with Prim's response: Well it's about time you realized how you felt about him.

Katniss types quickly: What do you mean by that????

It's not until Katniss is back in the stands with Peeta, who has gotten a fresh batch of nachos that Prim's response comes in.

Look, you've always had a soft spot for him. You've always said he was the greatest person to ever exist. Then when you and Gale broke up, it was like you didn't have to censor yourself. That "platonic cuddling" you were doing during winter when our heater didn't work sure didn't seem so platonic. You could have gone to his house where there was heat, after all. You give him really long hugs good-bye, you smile when his name is mentioned, you're constantly wondering why he hasn't dated anyone longer than a couple months. It's in your eyes most of all, when you think he isn't looking. Maybe I'm wrong and you're just really, really good friends, but it doesn't seem that way to me.

"Everything okay?" Peeta asks. Everyone else is on their feet and clapping at Phillip Gloss hitting a home run, while Katniss's eyes are fixed on Prim's text, trying to absorb it.

"Prim's having some boy trouble." She rolls her eyes. "Sent me a huge text about it."

"Well, good thing she has you to protect her." Peeta gives her one of his sweet smiles, with just a touch of shyness, that she's now realizing is only for her. She's never seen it on his face when greeting Prim or joking with Madge, or with any of the over dozen girls he's been with since she's known him.

Katniss puts her phone away and tries to focus on the game, but she can't with Peeta so near. Everything he does seems to draw attention to his mouth. Cupping his hands to his face so his shouts of encouragement can be heard, leaning in close to her ear to compete against the noise around them, sucking cheese off his thumb from the last of the nachos (okay, the last of his nachos–Katniss polishes those off).

Then during the seventh inning stretch, the person beside Katniss pushes against her shoulder and points to the jumbotron. There her own face stares up in confusion with Peeta's in a giant heart and those words GIVE YOUR SWEETHEART A KISS! above their heads.

Peeta shrugs with a lift of the corner of his mouth. He's prepared for a peck on the cheek, the main way to assuage the kiss cam operators to not continually embarrass those who try to refuse the attention. But some impulse comes over Katniss and she seals her lips over his. He jumps a little in surprise, but is quick to return the gesture, cradling her face with his hand and parting his lips to her. He tastes spicy and salty from the nachos, but underneath that, like an incredible delicacy. Katniss becomes so warm in her belly she's sure she swallowed a star and it's burning up in her body.

When they pull away, they're no longer on the jumbotron and a group of guys behind them whistle. Katniss shifts back into her seat, unable to look at Peeta. Oh, god. She just kissed her best friend.

Trying not to have to deal with the aftermath of this quite yet, Katniss takes out her phone and texts Prim:

Katniss: I kissed Peeta.

Prim: !!!!!

Katniss: It was for the kiss cam.

Katniss: But I liked it. A lot.

Katniss: What am I gonna do? He's my best friend. I can't lose him!

Gale had been her friend, before. Then he'd kissed her and she felt like she had to go along with it so she wouldn't lose him. And she had loved him before, had told herself that the love she had for him was good. It wouldn't be like when her mom lost her dad. Safe. That's what Gale had been.

Prim: I don't think you could ever lose him.

Then a different notification comes up on Katniss's phone. She'd been tagged in a story on Instagram. Curious, she opens the notification and saw that Clove had posted a video of the kiss cam footage to her story with the comment:

Guess @Katniss2008 is over @PitcherGale

Katniss watches in the story with horror, clicking back several times to watch the way she moves in so insistently, the way Peeta takes her up on this chance, and the eagerness both of them display kissing each other. Gale might not see this, he got tagged in so much now. But Clove, a player's girlfriend with over hundred thousand followers, had certainly assured that the whole baseball community would be talking about the kiss. This is exactly the kind of thing she'd wanted to get away from!

"Oh no," Peeta says. Katniss looks over and sees that he has the same story pulled up on his phone. He looks up at her, apology all over his face. "Should we go?"

Katniss nods her head and they gather up their things and trash to get out of that stadium. They walk briskly, mostly because Katniss has to get away from the crowds, to feel like she might have some kind of privacy in this stupid social media world.

The sky has turned orange and red with the sunset as they reach Peeta's car. Once inside, Peeta won't take the silence anymore.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks. "How are you?"

She chokes out an incredulous laugh. "I don't know! Angry, upset, embarrassed. I want to use one of those sponsored knives and cut her!"

"I'm sure you could explain to Gale," Peeta says. "If you're worried about him. About him thinking we..."

And he stops, blinking and turning away. And Katniss caught the a glimpse of the rarest emotion to cross Peeta's face–pain. He was always the first to help, the first to offer a smile or a kind word. Katniss wonders if what she's thinking is true, if Peeta has feelings for her, what it must have been like. Her and Gale together for so long, then her rants against ever dating again after what happened.

"I don't care what Gale thinks," Katniss says and meaning it. "I just hate that Clove put our personal business up for everyone to see."

"We did kiss in front of thousands of people," Peeta says. "But I get what you mean."

They sit in spent anger and simmering disappointment until Peeta says, "So, did this totally ruin any chance between us?"

"No," Katniss says. "Not for me, at least."

Peeta exhales a chuckle in relief. "Good. Because I've liked you forever."

"Forever?" Katniss asks, surprised. She'd thought it must have snuck up on him like it had for her.

"Since the first day I saw you," Peeta says. "Mrs. Trinket's history class. You looked really cool, with your leather jacket and long braid, and then Dylan Marvel threw an apple toward Rue Jackson and you reached out your hand and just caught it and threw it back at him, right on his head."

Her mouth hangs open. She vividly remembers this happening, but her memory hadn't clocked Peeta being there.

"That was the first day of sophomore year," Katniss says. "You've liked me all this time?"

"Yeah." That shy, sheepish look is back. "But you were always with Gale and it seemed pretty set. I tried to date other girls, but it didn't feel fair to date them when I still had feelings for you, so none of them really stuck."

I'm the reason he's dated so many girls, Katniss realizes. Not commitment issues or because he was closeted. Because of how he felt about her.

"But these past eight months?" Katniss asks. "Ever since Gale and I broke up?"

"You needed time, and you needed a friend," Peeta says, brushing hair out of her face. "I figured, if it was going to happen, it would happen when you were ready."

He's perfect, Katniss thinks. And then she's leaning over the car console and he's following and they're kissing, finally, finally just for themselves. And she knows it's only the second kiss of many, many more to come.

[dracoxmalereader]

Hello again

This is kinda personal for me can you maybe do a high school au where reader is a drama nerd and Draco a jocks and after the show he was in (idc which one) some boys harass him physically and Draco there to protect you, and they share a little make out session

Encore

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Muggle!Everyone, nomag AU, Draco and Crabbe and Goyle are jocks and you're a theater nerd.

Summary: You've been looking forward to your months of dedication paying off, and you're proud of the work everyone put in to make the show happen. That being said... is it so much to ask for to play a part in peace for once?

Word Count: 856

“Just waiting on my ride.” 

You wave goodbye to the last of your castmates, watching them nod back at your reassurance and leave for the exit. You lean back against a locker-lined wall, twiddling your thumbs behind your back to stave off boredom. 

Guttural snickering worms its way down the hallway towards you. Goyle’s big head makes itself known in the shadows. 

You watch for a couple moments as he lurks closer, Crabbe emerging from the same curtaining darkness right behind him. They bring their obnoxious cackling with them. You roll your eyes and let out a sigh. How do they always find you?

“Right, what’s this we have here?” Goyle’s face contorts into an ugly smirk at Crabbe. 

“Don’t you have better things to do?” You groan.

It falls useless in the rising volume of Crabbe and Goyle’s cruel laughter, and before you know it you’re being pushed around. Goyle yanks you towards him by the collar of your shirt just to shove you backwards into Crabbe’s open palms.

“What are you imbeciles doing now?” 

Draco’s voice has Crabbe and Goyle turning towards him. He stomps down the hallway, his stance wide. Your heart beats a little faster at the sight alone.

“‘Bout time you showed up.” Goyle snickers.

“We’re taking the piss out of this knob jockey-”

Draco interrupts Crabbe. “Like he’s worth any of your time.” He barks, grabbing your arm when he finally gets to you. “Piss off, yeah?” 

With a sneer at Crabbe and Goyle, he’s tugging you away. The two bullies incessant yapping fades. Goyle bellows something about Draco taking the fun all for himself. 

It doesn’t halt him in the slightest, his hand steady, pulling you down the dark corridor with practiced confidence until you’re swallowed by the shadows and pushed into a stairwell. 

The side exit below the stairs casts a glow from the parking lot. It bounces off Draco’s face where you both come to stand, giving the grey of his eyes a bluish tint. Tense silence fills the air between you; Draco crosses his arms. 

You mutter, “Thanks.”

He wastes no time in getting to the point. “Why do you let them push you around like that?” 

“They’re your friends.”

“And you know I think they’re a set of complete wankers.” His brows pinch inwards. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come down the hall? Just let them do anything they want to you?”

Your eyes are rolling before he even finishes his sentence. You opt not to respond, looking away and watching some car pull out of the parking lot outside. 

He scoffs. The sound of his shoe has an echo when it hits the floor with his step back, gaze trailed on your face. After a moment of quiet, he sighs. His arms uncross. 

“Wimp.” He says, almost fondly. 

“That’s why I have you to protect me, right?” You levy a smile at him, looking to ease any lingering awkwardness. “Scary dog privileges and all that.”

He chuckles, a grin tugging at the side of his mouth. “Damn right.” 

Then he’s stepping closer again. One hand comes up to tug on the tie of your costume, fumbling to undo the knot. It slips from your collar and he stuffs it in his own pocket for safekeeping. Your eyes meet again.

“You look ridiculous in this, by the way.” His one-sided grin refines to a smug, teasing jeer. “Like purple Potter.”

“It’s Professor Plum, you nitwit. Were you even watching the show?” You laugh.

He reaches up to pull the round-framed glasses off your face. “I was more focused on how I was going to get these bloody things off you.” 

He doesn’t offer the glasses the same courtesy as the tie, letting them fall to the floor. The complaint that bubbles in your throat about dropping props dies before it reaches your tongue. Draco’s hand snakes around to the back of your neck and he presses his lips to yours. Can’t argue with that. 

You tilt your heads in unison, noses brushing past one another. His breath puffs out his nostrils onto your upper lip, and you can’t help but laugh, smile breaking the kiss. He pulls back, hand leaving your neck. He bends down to pick up the glasses.

“You still driving me home?”

He hands the frames to you. “As long as you don’t put your dumb music on again.” He chuckles again.

Your smile widens. “Come on, you know it’s growing on you.”

He rolls his eyes, but the smirk that his face has settled into doesn’t falter. His hand grabs yours and he tugs you towards the door, pushing it open and holding it with his foot so you can go first.

You tuck the prop glasses into your pocket as the two of you are walking through the parking lot. You take your seats in Draco’s expensive car. When the engine revs, your eyes meet in the internal mirror. You wink, and a breath of laughter blows out of him.

After that, well, it’s not hard at all to talk him into putting on your “dumb music”. 

So sorry this took so long, I hope it being the first ever mouth kiss on my blog makes up for it. </3 This was so fun to write it was mwah chefs kiss. First ever non-hogwarts AU here, too.

I hope it's okay that it wasn't really a makeout makeout, I simply don't trust myself to write that in a not horribly wattpad-esque way.

I hope all of y'all crickets got to enjoy the eclipse today. 😎 Fear not if you didn't, I took many a picture both through my eclipse glasses and not. I didn't get the total total eclipse though, it was only 90 something percent covered where I am. Don't make fun of the grain, I have a pixel 3.

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @siuspider @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog @we2222 @ashton-laufeyson @solas-things @mqzze @itsfitzroyy @dolly-dollar @pinkb4t @daybreakmistakes @ronaldweasleyhowdareyou

[archersxartxblog]

Warden's Twins: Wondering thoughts part one

this was just a fun idea I had in head for a bit, though I let it out here. just letting you know, I wrote this on my phone and this hasn't been spellchecked. Part of Warden's Twins AU

----

Summery: a lot things have changed since Akari caught Dialga and Palkia, and it all feels like it's happening so quickly, and yet they're still not home. Emmet has some thoughts about it all, and needs some time to sort things out. But in Hisui, one should never let themselves become too distracted, not when space and time can distort on a whim. ____

He didn’t mean to wander away from his brother, but at the same time he just wanted to be alone for a little bit, just to try and get his thoughts straight.

It had been several months since the sky had turned red and Akari had caught both Dialga and Palkia, stopping the two from ripping the world apart. 

Since then, a lot had happened.

Two of the biggest being that Miss Zisu had moved in with them, and their dad telling them that they would have some new siblings joining them.

That had been a shock.

At first Emmet had been really excited.

He really liked Miss Zisu, she liked battles, she was fun to be around, and she made their dad happy, so having her around more was not a problem for him at the time. Plus, the idea of being a big brother was thrilling to think about. Most of his life Emmet had been the younger brother, despite Ingo only being a few minutes older than him, so to have actual siblings that were younger then him, who could look up to him, and depend on him; that had sounded exciting.

But as the months went on, they spent less and less time with their dad. He and Ingo were either being sent to the highlands to attend to Sneasler with one of the other Warden’s, or being sent out to spend time helping the other Warden’s with their duties.

It was starting to feel like they were being pushed away, in favor of something new.

Ingo simply shrugged it off, saying that their dad and Zisu ‘were just busy preparing for the new babies, and didn’t want to worry about them being bored’. And while that made sense, it still brought up some uncomfortable thoughts.

Like…what were they going to do when the time came to go back home? If there were new babies then what was going to happen? Would their dad just abandon them to join Ingo and Emmet back in Unova? Or would he end up staying in Hisui with the new babies and send him and his back all on their own? The new babies could always come with them to Unova, but then what about Miss Zisu? It didn’t seem fair to her to have her kids ripped away from her, or for them to have to lose their mom. But then again…it wasn’t fair for Emmet and Ingo to lose their dad either, not after finally finding him after all these years.

Maybe that was why they were being kept away from their dad. So it would be easier to let go when it was time to say goodbye to Hisui.

Then again, maybe he was over thinking things, after all there had been no sign of them even being able to go home.

Which was another thing he didn’t want to think about.

He didn’t want to stay in Hisui.

He didn’t want to be stuck here, in the past.

He wanted to go back to Unova, with his brother and his dad in tow.

He wanted to continue his journey.

Earn all eight badges.

Take on the Pokemon league.

And take on everything the Future had in store for him and his brother.

He didn’t want to stay in Hisui.

Didn’t want to stay in the past, where pokemon wanted to attack him at every turn, and the gods threw temper-tantrums.

He just wanted to go home, back to his uncle, back to his friends, and back to Unova, where things felt less confusing.

But yet, it felt like it had been over a year now and they were still here.

“I am Emmet! And I just want to go home!” he yelled, kicking a pebble in frustration as he let his emotions out, listening to it bounce off the cave’s walls as he continued deeper in.. “Is that really so much to ask for?”

As if on cue Emmet felt the hair on the back of his neck stand one end as a strange electricity surged through the air. At that moment, he felt his heart suddenly drop as he realized what this was.

Without another thought, Emmet took off at a full sprint back towards the mouth of the cave, hoping to escape the boundaries of the distortion before it was too late. 

Yet even as he ran, he could already see the ground beneath him change and distort. Grass starting to form on solid rock, puddles forming where it had been dry moments before, items from the future, some of which Emmet even recognized came from out of nowhere. Even the walls of the cave began to change, almost seeming to resemble Charge stone cave in some ways. 

His Father had warned him about this. Space-Time distortions. Small storms that happened when space and time just suddenly started to distort. They were extremely because they tended to bring with them angry and aggressive pokemon from different points in time and places. Their Father had always warned them to stay as far away from them if they could, and to run if they ever ended up getting caught in one.

“Ingo!” Emmet called out to his twin, trying desperately to find a way out of the cave as the walls around him changed and shifted. “Ingo!”

No answer. 

How did he manage to get this deep? He was sure he hadn’t been walking that long.

Was it a right or a left he took? He really should have been paying attention to where he was going.

“Ingo! Warden Gaeric!” He tried again, wishing his voice carried the same way his brother’s did.

“Elect!”

It was an answer, but not the one Emmet was looking for, as space and time bent around in front of him and allowed a very angry Electivire to step out of the Rift. Emmet skidded to a stop in front of the beast, staring up at it in fear as pokemon looked down at him like he was to blame for this.

“Elect!” The pokemon growled once more, raising its arms high over its head.

Emmet didn't wait for what came next as he quickly spun on his heel and fled deeper into the cave, and the Electivire charged after him.

He panted hard as he continued to run, pushing his little body as hard as he could, even as his engine felt like it was about to give out. 

He couldn't stop, not even to throw out a pokemon to fend off the enraged Electivire, if he did then he risked being open to an attack, or worse, another pokemon appearing behind him and joining the battle.

“Tivurrrrr!” 

Emmet felt electricity surged through the air as the pokemon behind him started to charge up an attack, and quickly ducked into a small opening in the wall; the heat of the attack just missing his cheek.

Emmet’s heart pounded in his chest as he slowly backed from the opening, his hands pressed firmly to his mouth in hopes of preventing any sound from escaping. 

The opening was just big enough that Emmet could stand if he slouched a bit. It was probably dug out by something small to hide from bigger predators. So, a big pokemon like Electivire had no way of coming in after him…but that didn't mean he was safe.

The Electivire stocked up to the opening, not fooled for a moment, as it glanced into the opening with a loud growl. Quickly Emmet backed up even further away, as a big yellow arm reached out for him, just inches away from grabbing him. 

Only for his back to hit a wall.

A Dead-end.

Emmet screamed as the now frustrated Electivire roared, as it smashed both its arms against the side of the wall in an attempt to make the opening bigger, and the air surged with electricity as the distortion continued to rage on.

He was going to die here.

He was going to die, all because he wandered away from his brother.

They might not even find his body, the distortion might just take him with him, and he'll be found dead in some random time and space.

Once more he felt the Electivire charge up another attack, and this time he had nowhere to go. And there was not enough room to even send out a pokemon.

 All he could do was close his eyes, and wait for it to happen.

“LOOK OUT!”

Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of his tunic in an oh-so familiar grip, and he was pulled backwards.

Emmet’s eyes snapped open and he watched as the walls turned from the harsh jagged and rough surface of stone to the smooth clean surface of metal, plastic and glass.

He saw the Electivire through what looked like the rift above Mt Coronet had formed in a window.

He watched as the Electivire smashed through the opening with its large body, electricity pulsing from its being as it continued towards him…

“Dragon Pulse!”

“Drrrraga!”

Only to be knocked back by a shock wave.

An alarm blared, sounding extremely loud to Emmet’s ears, before what looked like crystal shards formed over the rift, sealing it off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone asked him. But their voice sound so far away.

He opened his mouth to answer, only to find himself unable to speak.

His mouth was dry, and he felt like he hadn't drank anything all day.

Why was everything so blurry? 

“Hey?”

Was the ground shaking or was it just him? 

“Hey!”

He should probably answer the person trying to get his attention, they were starting to sound worried…

But first…

…he just needed…

…to…close…his…eyes…

Just…for…a…moment…

“No! Don't pass out!”

—

[izvmimi]

malevolent enterprise ch. 7

cw: ceo!au. yuuji talks about the state of the company with one of his best friends. header by @/cafekitsune! masterlist

The squeak of overpriced sneakers bounces loudly off the walls of a private court. The two young men are only using half-court, but that makes their one-on-one no less exhausting. Yuuji has control of the basketball now, planting his inside foot as he pivots and blocks Megumi out of the way, and fakes a turn that his childhood friend, Megumi, has the misfortune to fall for, then swings back and throws the ball down the middle to the hoop. The shot lands with a satisfying swish and Yuuji’s grinning just as intensely as his dark-haired opponent is scowling.

“Fuck you,” Megumi replies as he picks up the ball and pushes it hard into his friend’s chest. Yuuji lets his body stagger backward as he grips the ball and laughs.

“Not my fault you started slipping! They don’t have courts in California?”

Megumi frowns, then pulls up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Yuuji is reminded to wipe the sweat off his own brow, brushing away the pink strands sticking to his forehead.

“No one to play with,” Megumi murmurs under his breath. This makes Yuuji frown in his own turn as he starts another dribble, but in response to his facial expression, Megumi swipes the ball out of his hand, stepping back with his own dribble and cocks his head up.

“I didn’t go there to dick around, I was in school,” he replied. He leans in and starts advancing, then runs up on the court with Yuuji chasing quickly. 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t let loose,” Yuuji replies. Megumi sticks his tongue out as though he’s disgusted, then takes the shot, blocked by the smack of Yuuji’s hand. He groans, but recovers the ball faster than Yuuji can, sidesteps him, then shoots; the ball hits the rim, but he’s able to recover himself.

Satisfied, he jumps down. Yuuji hangs off the rim, and also jumps down, now disappointed as he recovers the ball. Smugness and redemption is written all over his face as he catches the ball Yuuji thrusts at him. 

“I think I’m doing just fine.” Megumi teases. Yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“How’s the company?” Megumi asks, suddenly. Yuuji had sounded stressed just a month earlier, and Megumi, while unable and frankly unwilling to drop everything and come back to Japan just to bail his buddy out, he’d been concerned. The last time they’d talked however, Yuuji had seemed considerably less bothered and focused less on his corporate struggles and more on what the newest horror movies coming out were and whether or not Gojo would settle down before he turned 50. 

“All taken care of.” Yuuji sounds pleased and Megumi is curious. They start another run and Megumi cuts through, scoring another point, but Yuuji doesn’t pout this time, still thinking. 

“You actually took that bastard’s advice,” Megumi asks, raising an eyebrow. They pause, and Megumi leans on the cool stone wall, taking a swig from a water bottle. Yuuji does the same, but sinks to the floor and crosses his legs.

“Yeah, and it’s one of the best decisions I ever made.” Yuuji laughs. He readjusts and stretches out his legs, letting himself rest on his hands. Megumi observes the relaxed pose, squatting to the ground.

“Gojo doesn’t know how to run a company.” Megumi remarks, as if he’s reminding him of something that neither of them know.

“Maybe not, but the girl he told me to hire does,” Yuuji replies. Megumi scrunches his nose.

“Do you actually know what’s going on there?”

“Her name’s ___,” Yuuji answers in disregard to whatever Megumi just asked. “She’s a little no-nonsense but very nice and I swear she has like 3 brains, and-”

“Enough.”

Megumi throws a ball at his face and Yuuji forgets to block, still mid-conversation. He curses, but gets up, and the two are on the move again. The conversation shifts as Yuuji silences himself, contemplating for a moment why his immediate urge was to gush over his employee.

“Do you have to join Sukuna’s company?” Yuuji finally asks. It’s something that’s been nagging him for a while, that his high school, then college friend won’t be joining him in this endeavor, but he’s been afraid to ask, and he knows Megumi has his reasons. As an heir to old money, Megumi doesn’t really need to work at all, and barely needs to get his degree in Marketing, especially not overseas, but Megumi does a lot of things as insurance, always thinking ahead.

“Would you rather I dick around in yours?” Megumi asks, responding as Yuuji expected. Yuuji ponders for a moment, dribbling without moving, then takes a shot from afar. It misses, hitting the rim with a clanging sound, and he curses under his breath again. 

“No, but I mean, I don’t really care if you don’t but it’d be nice…”

“You know I'm just doing this shit till my dad dies, right?”

Yuuji considers telling him that he probably should be a little less crass about a family member when his own grandfather has yet to die but Toji Fushiguro, as he lives his life now being the literal scourge of the wealthy Zenin family, will probably die under a stripper smelling of alcohol and Red Bull, and the two of them have been well aware of this since they were teenagers. The only question is whether or not Sukuna will beat him first to the most embarrassing way to be found dead. 

As if Megumi can read his thoughts, he adds - 

“I’m voting for a car crash in a couple years.”

Yuuji doesn’t bother reprimanding him, snickering actually now that he’s been desensitized to Megumi’s sense of humor, and they finish up the rest of the game.

—

“The gorilla still works there, I presume?” Megumi asks.

Yuuji nearly spits out his drink as he sputters. “Bro, he’s still my friend.”

Megumi takes a bite of his burger, nonchalant. “He’s not mine.” Yuuji sighs in defeat, then leans forward.

“If you’re gonna work for Sukuna, I’m gonna need you to spy for me.”

Yuuji is only half joking, his grin wide and brilliant.

“Fine,” Megumi agrees. He chews for a bit longer than jabs a bunch of fries in his mouth. Yuuji watches as he washes it all down with another large Coke, amused by his friends’ appetite.

“Weren’t you just in America?” Yuuji jokes. “You’d think you’d be sick of burgers by now.”

Megumi glares at him. “You suggested this place.”

Yuuji blinks. “Touché.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, asshole.” Megumi takes a final bite, then leans in as well. 

“Okay, what were you thinking?” He asks, a sparkle in his blue eyes. As unbothered as he likes to pretend to be, Sukuna stings at the same wound Toji does, and he’ll stop at nothing to be a thorn in his side. Yuuji considers that perhaps he shouldn’t send an actual mole to his brother’s company, but then remembers the time Sukuna convinced him he was adopted despite nearly looking the same as him, then remembers the time Sukuna ate his birthday cake at his eighth birthday, then remembers the time Sukuna slept with his girlfriend, and realizes it probably isn’t that big a deal.

“Let’s get Kugisaki in on this,” he suggests. “She’s good at this type of mess.”

Megumi is already calling her as they speak.

[polaroidtelevision]

I was going to post a list of the several writer steve aus bouncing around in my head for people to take and use as they please but then I spiralled on a specific one and now it’s at 2k and counting and too long to post here like I was going to so anyway chapter one of this will be out on ao3 soon. Maybe

Basically Steve’s a writer and Eddie’s a barista at a queer friendly cafe with a rockstar side gig.

It’s 1987, the upside down didn’t happen, Steve finally gets out of his parents house and gets an apartment with robin in the city. He starts going to community college to work towards eventually being a counselor or teacher or something. While he isn’t studying he picks up hobbies he felt like he could never even begin to approach while under his parents roof and he and robin explore the queer scene of the area(he realized he was bisexual in 1985). They find a cafe not far from the apartment, it’s called Dorothy’s Keep, it’s decorated very fantastically and it just screams this is a safe place to be yourself, not to mention the name, it’s a queer refuge hiding in plain sight. And Steve becomes a regular. He claims a table in the corner and spends lots of time their studying, and then he starts writing. He gets the idea on a whim one day when on the phone with Dustin, who’s telling him about their latest dnd campaign back in Hawkins. The storyline evolves into its own thing in his head, and then he puts his own twists into the scene, his own monsters and characters, and he starts writing. Its a fantasy horror romance that starts out being about a boy and a girl, but after a few interactions with the cute barista at Dorothy’s keep he makes the main characters queer. His writing end up being good, and he’s cranking the story out, between the atmosphere at the cafe and his life being actually pretty sorted out, he can finally afford to be creative.

Said cute barista AKA Eddie Munson always greets Steve by name or nickname when he comes in now, it’s been a couple months since he first started coming in, and maybe Eddie has a bit of a crush on his favorite regular.

One day he sees Steve looking particularly frustrated in the corner, and frustrated Steve looks like a kicked puppy and Eddie just can’t have that going on, so he decides to finally gather the courage to do something like he’s been meaning to. So he brings Steve his favorite pastry that he often orders. Steve says “I uh, I didn’t order this?” And Eddie says something about how he looked so sad and “i can’t have my favorite regular being down in the dumps, now, can I?”

Steve says thanks and is like yeah you know what I’m done with this for today and closes the journal he’s writing in and Eddie’s guesses “schoolwork?” And Steve replies with “nah, writers block is kicking my ass.”

Naturally, Eddie asks “you’re a writer?” And it ends with Steve telling him all about his story for the next hour and Eddie assuring him that he’s the manager and won’t get in trouble for extending his break a bit and they flirt. Like. A lot.

They talk more often after that and flirt a lot and we’ll, you can guess where the story is headed.

Keep an eye out for the fic, it’s gonna be super gay and cute, I’ll repost this when chapter one is out. I haven’t decided if I’m gonna add angst yet or not, but knowing me there’ll be a.. little bit. There’ll be a happy ending though, I promise.

[hopusthebrainlessfloof]

Jumping on the Spewart × Roy train(?)!

I personally view Spewart and Roy as a QPR, considering how brotherly Roy is to Spewart. However, I was... Inspired to write some fanfic (which is below the cut). My little autistic brain is bouncing around with glee. Hope yall like it!

[ Colouring style inspired by @nrcy-d0 . AU belongs to @thekoopalingsandstuffs . ]

Dear Dieter

He drew a breath of the bitter air as his eyes settled on the brick walls of the alleyway. This was the place where it all happened. It felt so long ago... The thought of it didn't seem nearly as disturbing compared to back then, though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to come here. Closure, he assumed. His mind could rid of that rotter known as... Ha! For a moment, he forgot his name. Dieter. He only remembered because of that Other version... Not that it was a bad thing, but he didn't neccesarily want nor care to remember any Dieter at all.

Two months ago was chaos broke loose. This very alley was where it happened. And he was whom was affected. And Ludwig, of course, but Ludwig didn't exactly have the issue of concealing his feelings from everyone he cared about. Did he? Was he overthinking again? Maybe.

He only told one other person about everything. Well, not everything. He conviniently kept out the part about watching Dieter die... Not even Twila knew, to currently date. He only told Rango, though that also came as a surprise to him once he thought about it. It felt so strange that... Rango, of all people, was the one he told. However, that comment he made back when they first adopted Bun and Boomerang... It echoed in his mind. "He must've done something real messed up to have you acting like that." It was small, and of course Rango being Rango, was oblivious to the hint in his response. But at least he cared enough to notice he wasn't okay... Meanwhile Hariet kept persisting of Dieter's return and Topper celebrated his loss of virginity...

He wiped his nose, unable to tell if it was running because of the harsh cold or if he was due to cry again. He was supposed to be going for a walk, or so that's what he told Hariet in order to avoid the noise that came with their recent company... The Koopalings were at their home, and they were all supposed to be making Christmas cookies, to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Alas, he got overstimulated... And now he was here, face to face with the demon of his mind. This alley. He could feel Dieter's presence, oddly enough...

"Spewa-a-arrrrrt!"

He turned with a gasp, his heart jumped... Roy's figure was made more clear as he slipped on the icy pavement to run over. He calmed his breath. "You scared me," he muttered with a small cloud of frozen breath.

"Ah, sorry... But you scared me too. You've been gone for like... An hour?" Roy stuck his hands in his coat and gave a shudder. "This ain't the weather to be running off in..." "I'm sorry... " He didn't mean to make anyone concerned. Honestly, he didn't think anyone cared... Roy shook his head and smiled. "Nah, just... I don't want you to get hurt out here! Or freeze, or... something! It's way, way too cold..."

Spewart nodded. "How did you know I was out here though?" He paused for a moment and lowered his head... Spewart thought he could see his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Ludwig..." he began. "Luds told me... About you, about Dieter, about...-" "So you know." "... Yes."

A long moment of silence passed before he sighed and lowered his head. "I'm sorry." "What for?" "For worrying you. Let's just go back to the house." Roy blinked before slowly nodding, and the two began walking in the direction of Spewart's home before he slowly stopped again. His head hurt. His presence was strong. "Roy?" "Hm?" "Give me a second, please." "Of course." He turned around, facing the alleyway before breathing in deeply.

Dear Dieter, he began. I moved on. You need to as well. I don't like you, I never did... But I'm sorry you're dead. Please, move on. It's okay to move on.

Roy patiently waited, and soon enough, Spewart rejoined him. "What was that about?" "Making peace," he softly muttered.

Roy nodded and the two resumed walking before Roy turned to him. "Heard a new café opened. Wanna grab something before we go back?" He thought a bit and smiled. "Yeah, just not anything with a lot of dairy. I don't wanna throw up suddenly..." "Oh? Why would-... Oh yeah, CVS." Spewart nodded, still smiling. Roy couldn't tell, but Spewart's chest felt much lighter. His head felt more clear. They both moved on.

[laughingphoenixleader]

hey hey!! kanera highschool au? 👀

“On your left,” comes a deep, voice from…well, her left, as Hera slides a book into her backpack. She freezes, head still in her locker.

Hera knows that voice.

“I’ve, uh, seen you around school,” the voice continues, flirtation dripping off it. “And I was wondering if you might wanna go out after sometime. I’m free tonight, for example. Just throwing it out there.”

Her back straightens.

“Can I ask you a question?” Hera asks, still staring into her locker, letting her own tone lilt flirtatiously.

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, for whatever reason. “Anything.”

Then Hera slams her locker door shut and whirls on him. Kanan Jarrus, school heartbreaker, among other things that both other people and Hera herself has called him, jumps, his grin fading. He’s handsome, Hera can’t deny that, with his shoulder-length chestnut waves that all the girls swoon over, striking aqua-blue eyes, and charming smile. But he’s got a devil-may-care kind of swagger and a complete lack of worry about how his actions affect other people. Hera intends to change that.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?!” Hera yells, heat rising in her cheeks and anger that’s been simmering for months on end erupting out of her voice. Everyone in the hallway turns to look at them. Good. He deserves to be embarrassed for what he’s been up to.

“Do you really think that running around breaking hearts is a good use of time?” Hera asks him, her words bouncing off the school hallway walls and coming back to make him flinch. “Making girls cry? Getting their hopes up and then crushing them?”

She takes a step closer to him. He’s frozen now, and the fear of God is in his eyes.

Now that’s a better look on him.

“I’ll have you know that your actions have consequences,” Hera informs him, filling each word with venom. “Your little flings are fun for some people, but for the ones who were looking for serious relationships? Who were so giddy over the fact that you were leaving them love letters that said they were the “only one” when seven other girls got the same one?”

Hera’s voice lowers, so that the rest of the hallway can’t hear her next words. “Like my best friend, for example?” She growls, and she can practically feel her eyes flashing. Kanan takes a step back, brow furrowing as her words seem to hit home. “Were painful. Do you find causing pain fun, Kanan Jarrus?”

Words seem to fail him. For once, the biggest talker in school keeps his mouth shut.

“I didn’t think so,” Hera remarks, satisfied that he isn’t a total jerk. Not 100%. Maybe just 98%.

She pulls her backpack tighter on her shoulders. “I believe anyone can change,” she continues, her voice just as steely, but slightly less venomous. “And that everyone deserves a second chance.”

Then she levels him with another of her infamous glares, and the fear in his eyes grows.

“So I suggest you do some rethinking and some self-improvement before you ask another girl out,” she strongly recommends, her voice rising in volume again. “For her sake.”

Kanan blinks, still struck dumb.

“So, no,” Hera finishes, her voice returning to normal volume. “I won’t go out with you.”

And then she turns around and walks off, braids swinging behind her, feeling thoroughly satisfied.

this is a prequel to this fic!

[raplinesmoon]

An Affair Of The Art (KNJ x F!Reader)

pairing: husband!Namjoon x reader genres/au/rating: fluff, slight angst, pg summary: One rainy day looking at art sets off a spiral of events Namjoon can’t control, leaving his heart for the taking

warnings: references to infidelity (no actual infidelity), references to PPD, dad!Joon (yes this is a warning)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: so I went to go look at art when it was raining today and saw so many kids with their parents, and then listened to Namjoon’s podcast which was a mistake bc the yearning is just at all all time high. please enjoy this self-indulgent piece. disclaimer: i’m not a mom, and have never experienced PPD, but i’ve known moms who did. my heart goes out to anyone who struggles with it, I’m sending you a big hug.

It starts when Dan-Bi is seven months old – but Namjoon never meant for it to happen in the first place. He can see the exhaustion seep into your bones, the light leave your eyes, how every day you become less and less like a person and more and more a machine that changes, feeds, burps. Being there for you had always been his solution, but even that doesn’t seem enough. 

So one day, when you’re finally able to catch up on sleep, and he’s unwilling to rouse you from some well-needed rest, he settles on it. Slipping on his boots and sliding his rain jacket, he looks around him nervously before sending a hushed message to the other person in his life that it was time for them to get away for a bit, maybe at a nearby gallery.

And so he sets out on the rainy city streets, the anticipation making him shiver almost as much as the cold. It’s a prolonged journey, one where he stops in for cup of coffee, the hot liquid warming his frigid inside. Next he stops by the park, looking at the many families that travel along the lush green walkways, and his mind guiltily flashes back to you. It wasn’t your fault. You needed time to be yourself again, as did he.

When he finally steps into the warm gallery space, the hostess greets him with a flutter of her eyelashes, her gaze hungrily traveling to the way his plain t-shirt has soaked through, clinging to the muscles of her chest. Namjoon doesn’t indulge her. There’s only one person whose company he craves right now.

The stares of the other patrons burn into the back of his head when he rides up the elevator to the second floor, and he wonders if they know his secret - if they silently judge him for being here in this state right now, a fraud amongst them. Instead of dwelling on it, he shakes the rain from his hair and walks right out, never turning to look back.

His boots click against the tile floors, the echo bouncing off the walls as he wanders, searching, and searching until — he finds it. The vivid reds and pinks reflect onto the floor, creating an eerie glow to the harshly caricatured scene Guston portrays - Namjoon can’t stop staring.

A squeal startles him, and he jolts, looking around to see if anyone else heard it, but they all remain still, hyper-focused on the pieces in front of them. Sighing, Namjoon mentally prepares himself for the worst when he decides to investigate the source.

Only to come upon his daughter’s smiling face in the stroller, Dan-Bi looking up at him with wide eyes as she kicks her legs and squeals again, her eyes then squishing into the familiar crescent moons that mirror his own. Namjoon wonders what could have a barely year old baby so joyous in a space that she barely understands, but he freezes when he sees Dan-Bi look over at the painting he’d had his eyes trained on mere moments ago, her gaze equally as transfixed as her father’s.

Her fingers end up in her mouth as she slobbers, and Namjoon chuckles at how she drools over them, stroking her fine hair with a soft touch before he goes back to looking at it too. He couldn’t tell anyone how much time passed with the two of them looking at the piece. Maybe it was five minutes, maybe it was twenty, but Namjoon remains rooted to the spot, Dan-Bi’s protests and cries keeping him in place every time he moves the stroller. He leans to look at every brush stroke, every vibrant hue that blends into another, each thread on the canvas before turning to look at Dan-Bi’s tiny figure, fist smooshed into her cheek as she slumbers. That was enough to hold him over for now, and it was time to get back home to you.

And so began Namjoon’s affair of the art.

Over time, he sees you brighten, the changing of the seasons enough to bring you out of your shell, the former enthusiasm you had returning. You feel well enough to hold Dan-Bi without feeling pained and sorrowed, yet it hits you just how much your daughter has grown up in the past few months, her tiny delicate features becoming sharper and more refined, blending into the perfect amalgamation of you and your husband. And then the guilt settles in for missing so much of her life.

You weren’t naive - you’d woken up more than enough times to find Namjoon gone, Dan-Bi nowhere to be found in the house. After panicking the first few times, the bittersweet feeling set in when you realized they were gone, and you were here. You knew Namjoon meant well, intending for you only to rest, but it hurt that they were living on, while you remained stuck in the same place.

One day, when the trees begin to shed their flowers and the rainy skies melt into sunshine, you decide to follow behind them, slipping out no more than five minutes after they’d gone. Your footsteps take you to the art museum that Namjoon had taken you to on your first date, and you watch the security staff coo as he waves to them, walking in with Dan-Bi strapped to his shoulders.

Before you can stop him, you’re following behind, your haggard appearance and the bags underneath your eyes a sharp foil to your husband’s fit, healthy frame and Danbi’s adorable chunky thighs. You linger behind them on the stairs, Namjoon paying no mind to who’s behind him as he leads Dan-Bi into a gallery, this one full of works by the Impressionists, the soft colors and works transporting putting a smile on your face when you finally realize.

Monet was my first, he’d told you all those years ago. The Lunch.

Tears spring to your eyes when you see him holding up Dan-Bi to look at the water lilies splotched across the canvas, his gentle voice reassuring her to “look only, uri ttal, no touching”.

The choked sob that escapes is what gives you away, Namjoon and Dan-Bi turning to find you behind them, wet streaks streaming down your face.

“Baby,” Namjoon’s voice rumbles, his concerned eyes looking at your tired figure. “What are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”

“I thought you were having an affair,” you half sob, half cackle, and Dan-Bi squeals at seeing you, making grabby hands.

“Eom-a-ma-ma-ma,” she blubbers, and you take her from Namjoon, not caring for the stares of passerby that look at the strange scene, an oddly calm child with the mother in the midst of a meltdown.

“Are you for real?” Namjoon whispers, his arms coming around to wrap you in a hug. “___-ah, I would never. You have to know that. I love you.”

He curls you and Dan-Bi into him, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before continuing on.

“I’ve been waiting months for the day you’d feel better, that you’d finally be able to join us. Dan-Bi is better company than I expected at the art museum - she doesn’t scream or cry, mostly just tries to destroy thousands of dollars of precious art by knocking into it or grabbing for it.”

“She’s just a baby,” you pout, cooing at her. “She’ll learn one day.”

“It’s nice to see you here with us,” Namjoon mumbles against you. “I missed you.”

“Thank you for waiting for me Namjoon,” you say to him. “Now, what do you say we go look at some more paintings? I know Appa is a fan of Monet, but I want our little raindrop to learn about the wonders of Degas.”

And you carry her away, Namjoon trailing behind you with a grin on his face. This affair for his heart may have ended, but a new one was just beginning.

a/n pt. 2: it’s fluffing szn idc about cuffing szn. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜