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gguk-n · 10 months ago

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Hate you (Lando Norris x Reader)

{Lando's POV}

As I lay in my bed, the sheets felt cold, devoid of any warmth; as if their previous owner had taken it all with them. I found myself staring at ceiling after spending the better part of the night twisting and turning in my bed.

"Lan, babe" she whispered, "can't sleep?" she asked. My eyes locked with her, a gap in between us while we lay in bed. As if on queue, she opened her arms, "come here" she mumbled. "I'm too sleepy to be still awake" she continued. I scooted closer, into her arms. I found myself laying on her open arm while the other wrapped it self around my shoulder; our legs tangling themselves in each other. "Go to sleep, love" she whispered while her hand raked through my hair and kissed my forehead. I heard the rhythmic beating of her heart, lulling me to sleep.

A tear slipped out of my eyes, pooling on the pillow case under me. I spent the entire night tossing and turning as I tried to chase the sleep that never came to me. Morning couldn't come any sooner, I decided to head out to the gym and get done with my work out and exercise for the day. It helped my thoughts from running rampant as I focused my energy on the task at hand. As I opened the door, "Babe, I'm back" I called out, only to be met with the cold gust of wind that blew at me. I slowly walked into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab myself something to eat. It was empty.

"Lan, here, I heated up your breakfast for you." she said, handing me a bowl of the diet food I was supposed to eat, as recommended by my trainer. But her cooking made the food so much more delicious and I never felt like I was ever on a diet. I pecked her lips while grabbing the bowl from her hands. "What would I do without you?" I asked with a laugh. "Crash and burn" she replied proudly turning to get back to meal prepping for me.

The last time I had asked my trainer to send me my pre-cooked meals was years ago. Since we had started dating, she had taken the role of making my food. The fridge now lay barren, a remnant of her absence. I poured myself a glass of water and went back to my room.

The bedroom felt like a hotel room, devoid of any character. My stuff lay sprawled out on the floor. The small trinkets or the photo frames that adorned my side table were missing. The dressing table looked cold and my closet empty.

"Babe, you're gonna have to buy new hangers, a couple more towels and some cleaning supply." she called out as she unpacked her bag for the first time as she moved into my our flat. "You know what my card pin is, order whatever you need" I replied. "I'm gonna stock up on my skin care too" she teased. "You can buy the Kohinoor diamond if you want" I teased back. I could hear her laugh echo through out, making my heart warm and fuzzy. She spent the next couple of months turning my stock image of a flat into a home. There were clothes, books, magazines, utensils and candles decorating our home. She took her time making this place ours.

Right now, our my home was back to it's stock image self. All the picture frames and the candles were empty and missing their owner. I stepped into the shower to find the shelf empty which was usually filled with all her shampoos and conditioners.

"It's a good thing" she said as she massaged the shampoo into my scalp. "What is?" I asked, enjoying the sensation. "The fact that the both of us have curly hair. Your hair's taking my products pretty well" she replied. "Yeah, you've made me hotter than I already am" I joked. "Hair can do a lot for a man" she said solemnly. "I'll wash this out and we'll try the new conditioner and curling cream I got yesterday" she giggled while grabbing the bottles.

My hair was a mess since she left. I never paid attention to what she used, she's always make me look even more handsome than I was. I got done with the shower and decided to grab something to eat from outside and left the house with the keys to my McLaren. I hadn't taken the Lambo out since she left because it was her favourite car and it smelled like her.

The next couple of day were spent without much sleep and the most outer body experience. I found myself at the club asking the bartend to get me drink after drink to drown out my sorrow. I kept telling my self that she was selfish and she never thought about me before breaking up. I drowned drink after drink lamenting the lost of the best person I knew. She was selfish, she broke my heart and took it with her. It wasn't fair on me since she decided to prioritise herself and forget all the good times we had; I told myself. "I hate her" I mumbled as I downed another glass of whiskey. Before I know it, Max was wrapping his arm around my waist and walking me back to his car. I didn't feel as inebriated as I wished I did, to not be able to remember anything.

She had been anxious the whole weekend, fidgeting with her fingers as she sat in my drivers room. Every time I asked her about it, she would brush me off. I decided not to press her wait for her to spill it out. After the race on Sunday, we headed back on the private jet, just the two of us. The flight wasn't very long and I couldn't wait to get home. Her posture had gotten even more tense then before. "Lando, we need to talk" she said barely above a whisper. This couldn't be good, she never called me by my name. Her hands clasped and unclasped themselves while she rocked a bit on her heels. "I got an offer, from that video game company that I love" she began. "That's great news baby" I lunged forward holding her hands. She pulled her hands away from me, "They are based in Australia" she spoke. "That doesn't matter. You'll be working remotely anyways." I suggested. "Actually" she spoke, "They want me to come in to the office, since the new game they are working on is top secret and it's a big deal for them too" she finished. "Well I can travel with you whenever you need and you can come and go" I suggested. "I might not be able to come to any races or stay in Monaco for the next couple of years" she said tentatively. "What" I almost screamed. "How can you make such a decision without talking with me?" I shouted. "I never made the decision. It's just that, this is like a dream come true for me, you know" she replied meekly with tears in her eyes. "You don't care about me. How can you be so selfish?" I cried out. "baby, I'm not, I...this is a once in a life time opportunity" she croaked out. "You don't love me" I mumbled. "What no, baby" she reached out to hold my face in between her hands, but I was angry and I pushed her away. How could she be so selfish and decide to move away after so many years together? "I love you, I really do but we talked about how long distance was a deal breaker for you, so I wanted to discuss this with you" she cried out. "yeah, it is. I can't imagine being away from the one I love" I spat out. "I love you Lando, I really do but this my dream like Formula one is yours" she whimpered. "You can't be serious right" I muttered. It was the anger talking; before thinking it through; "We're done" I said in a sharp voice. I got up from my seat and walked away to the door since we had just landed.

She ran after me, begging me to reconsider but I was too angry and I wasn't thinking straight. I broke up with her and didn't even look back. I stayed back at Max's place as she emptied out the apartment. All I could do was hate her for not wanting to stay, to numb the pain away.

The next morning I woke up to a note from Max and a glass of water with some pain meds. I drank the water and took my medicines. As I placed the glass back, my finger got caught in the lowest drawer of my side table which came open as I moved away. In front me lay polaroids from our dates. The one's I had taken. The top one was of her sending a flying kiss and the one next to it was of us kissing. It hurt seeing these, now. I couldn’t help but cry. I knew, deep down that the only way I would be able to make the pain go away was by making her the villain even though she wasn't one; because I was selfish and didn't want to feel the hurt.

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yumiyue07 · 4 months ago

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Bumping into Christmas Magic ✨

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

POV: K-idol x reader

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name ｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Saturday arrived in the blink of an eye, and the anticipation of your first real date with H/N had you buzzing. You’d told Mariko all about it, and she couldn’t have been happier for you. Ever the best friend, she’d helped you pick the perfect outfit: a dark green A-line dress paired with black stockings and chic stiletto boots. Gold and green jewelry added a touch of elegance, while a wine-red A-line coat with a black bow at the neckline and matching black gloves completed the ensemble. You’d prepared everything the night before, ensuring nothing was left to chance.

But fate had other plans.

Since you had enough time, you decide to do some grocery shopping. The queue at the tills was endless, each minute stretching longer than the last. You checked your watch nervously, trying to calm the rising anxiety. “It’s fine,” you told yourself, “I still have plenty of time.” But as the line refused to budge, an announcement blared through the store speakers: “Dear customers, please be patient. A technical error has occurred. We are working to resolve it as quickly as possible.”

“Great.” You sighed, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. Thirty frustrating minutes later, the tills were finally operational, and the line inched forward. What was supposed to be a quick errand had turned into a mini endurance test.

By the time you loaded your shopping bags into the car, you needed a moment to collect yourself. “We’re off to a good start,” you muttered sarcastically, taking a deep breath before starting the engine.

If the store chaos wasn’t enough, the roads seemed equally unforgiving. Every light turned red as you approached, and traffic crawled at a snail’s pace. The stress was mounting, but when you finally pulled into your driveway, relief washed over you.

You sank back into your seat for a moment before heading inside. “Note to self,” you thought wryly, “on days with important events, don’t tempt fate with unnecessary errands.”

With that, you resolved to shake off the morning’s chaos. After all, the day was far from over, and you still had your date to look forward to.

You headed into the kitchen to unpack your groceries and start preparing something to eat. As you opened the fridge to put things away, your hand brushed against a jar of pickles perched precariously near the edge. Time seemed to slow as the jar tipped forward, tumbling out of your grasp.

“Nononono!” you yelped, reaching for it too late. The jar hit the floor with a loud crash, shards of glass scattering everywhere, and a wave of pickle brine soaking your socks.

You stared down at the mess, stunned. “Seriously? What is going on today?”

With a deep sigh, you grabbed some paper towels and a broom, carefully picking up the glass pieces while trying not to step on anything sharp. The tangy vinegar smell filled the kitchen as you worked, your socks now a lost cause.

To make matters worse, as you carried the glass shards to the trash, you accidentally bumped into the edge of the counter, knocking over the salt shaker. Its contents spilled everywhere. “Of course,” you muttered to yourself. “Why not? Let’s just go for a full comedy of errors.”

Despite the chaos, you forced yourself to stay calm. You

cleaned up the glass, the brine, and the salt, finally setting the kitchen back to rights. As you tossed your briny socks into the laundry, you couldn’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all.

“Okay, universe, I get it,” you said with a small grin. “No more disasters today, please.”

You shook off the lingering frustration. Tonight, you would see H/N again, and the thought of him warmed your heart, washing away the mishaps of the day.

It was finally time to get ready for the evening. No more mishaps, you promised yourself. You carefully applied your makeup, accentuating your eyes just the way you liked. You styled your hair with care, adding a touch of elegance that you hoped would pleasantly surprise H/N. The last time you met, your look had been casual, but tonight was different—you wanted to make an impression.

A final spritz of your favorite perfume added the perfect finishing touch. You gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror and smiled, satisfied. “Not bad, Y/N,” you murmured, hoping H/N would agree.

To avoid the chaos of city traffic, you’d decided to take the subway into the city center. Leaving earlier gave you a comfortable buffer, or so you thought. As you exited your apartment building and headed toward the subway station, a nagging thought hit you. Your phone.

“Ugh, how could I forget my phone now of all times?” you muttered, spinning on your heel and rushing back toward your building.

Hurrying to your apartment door, your heart sank as you searched your bag. No keys. A wave of panic began to rise, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. “Relax

and think, Y/N,” you coached yourself. You patted your coat pocket and—thankfully—felt the reassuring weight of your keys.

Inside, you darted to the bedroom, scanning frantically before spotting your phone sitting innocently on the dresser. Relief washed over you for all of two seconds—until, in your rush to leave, you caught your leg on the doorframe. A sharp sound tore through the air. You looked down in horror to see a gaping run in your left stocking.

“No way. What the...!” you groaned, staring at the damage. A glance at your watch made your stomach flip—you’d miss the next subway, too. Your buffer was quickly vanishing.

You dashed to your drawer and grabbed a fresh pair of stockings, slipping them on as fast as you could. Before leaving the apartment, you did a mental checklist: phone, keys, wallet, everything. Satisfied, you stepped out the door again, silently pleading with the universe to give you a break.

As you finally made your way to the subway, you muttered to yourself with a wry grin, “Okay, Y/N, enough excitement for one day. Let’s just make it on time—and in one piece.”

The subway station was a whirlwind of activity. Crowds of people bustled around, many also headed to the ceremony. You glanced at your watch again, anxiety knotting your stomach. You were going to be at least fifteen minutes late, and it gnawed at you. Punctuality was important to you, and the thought of H/N waiting alone made you uneasy. Hopefully, you’d still make it in time to witness the magical moment when the Christmas tree lights were switched on with H/N.

When the subway finally arrived, relief swept over you—until you saw it. Your breath caught. The train was packed to bursting, with no space to squeeze in. A sinking feeling gripped you as the station announcement crackled overhead: “Due to an earlier breakdown, this train is at capacity. Boarding is not permitted. Please wait for the next available train.”

Your shoulders slumped, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Why was this happening today of all days? It was as if the universe was conspiring against you. If you were much later, H/N might think you weren’t coming and leave. Worse, you hadn’t asked for his number, a mistake you now regretted deeply.

“You’re so stupid, Y/N. Serves you right,” you muttered bitterly under your breath, scolding yourself. The excitement of being asked out by H/N had clouded your judgment, and now you were paying the price.

The next ten minutes dragged painfully, each second stretching into an eternity. When the next train arrived, it wasn’t as crowded, and you scrambled aboard, relief

mingling with lingering frustration. To your surprise, you even managed to find a seat, but as you sank into it, your eyes darted to your phone.

Half an hour late.

The guilt weighed heavily on you, threatening to smother the joy you’d felt earlier in the day. You just hoped H/N would still be waiting.

H/N had arrived earlier than planned, wanting to ensure he was there to greet you. His usual confidence wavered, replaced by a strange nervous energy. It was unfamiliar territory for him; meetings with high-profile clients, critical decisions, and tight deadlines never fazed him. But waiting for you was different. Ever since that first accidental encounter, when you’d quite literally stumbled into his life, he couldn’t shake the thought that you were extraordinary.

You weren’t like the women who typically gravitated toward him—drawn by his wealth, his title, or the opportunities he could offer. You saw him, not his résumé. That thought warmed him in a way he couldn’t fully articulate.

Being around you felt easy, natural, and profoundly different from the polished performances he had to endure in his world.

With plenty of time on his hands, he wandered the square. The scent of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled the

chilly air. Small Christmas stalls dotted the area, selling everything from warm drinks and festive snacks to handcrafted toys and ornaments. It was quaint and picturesque, a perfect setting for a holiday evening.

He glanced at his watch. You could arrive at any moment now. The ceremony began with a speech by the mayor, who stood on a small stage flanked by twinkling lights and a children’s choir. The crowd fell silent, all eyes on the festivities, but H/N’s gaze remained fixed on the edge of the square. He scanned the faces in the growing crowd, searching for yours.

Fifteen minutes passed. The mayor concluded his speech, and the choir began to sing carols, their young voices ringing out like bells in the crisp night air. Still, there was no sign of you. A twinge of concern crept into his thoughts. What could have delayed you?

H/N repositioned himself closer to the towering Christmas tree, choosing a spot where you’d easily spot him as soon as you arrived. His eyes darted from the stage to the

crowd, scanning every approaching figure. But none of them were you.

Half an hour now. You still weren’t there. A quiet unease settled over him. Why hadn’t he thought to ask for your phone number? It seemed so obvious now, a mistake he couldn’t fix. He’d wanted everything to be perfect, but this uncertainty gnawed at him.

Doubts began to creep in. Perhaps you’d changed your mind. Had he misread your excitement when he’d asked you out? Maybe you’d only agreed out of politeness, a way to avoid awkwardness. The thought sent a pang through him.

He turned his gaze to the giant Christmas tree, its golden lights shimmering like stars against the night sky. Funny how something so beautiful could suddenly feel so hollow. The crowd around him buzzed with laughter and anticipation, but all he felt was an unexpected sadness.

What if something had happened to you?

To be continued...

♡ Author's note

Stay tuned for part 8!✨💝

Love, YumiYue 🌙

@catlove83 @burningemberz @alonahh

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★ Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram: @yumiyue07 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction inspired by Stray Kids’ song “Christmas Love”. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

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pbandjesse · 6 months ago

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We are just now leaving Jess's soupsgivings party. It was such a nice evening. And it's been a pretty great day.

I am wildly full right now though and pretty uncomfortable. But I will be okay. I am glad we should have a fairly quick hour drive home.

I didn't sleep amazing. I woke up with a nose bleed. I had had such a nice time watching shows with James and felt really happy but physically it is starting to be consistently hard to find a comfy way to sleep. I'm trying really hard to not toss and turn and just stay in one orientation. But man. It is tough to stay comfortable, and on top of that I can't breathe? Not fair.

I didn't wake up enough to hug James but I do remember them kissing my cheek. Love them so much. They had moved the car and unloaded some stuff so we would have room for what Jess was giving us this evening. And I appreciated all the things they do for me.

When I woke up I made the bed, and took a shower, washed my hair, and tried to feel ready for the scary Ticketmaster queue.

I have never bought tickets for something that may sell out, something people describe as a war. All I have heard was about the app or website crashing and scalpers getting all the tickets. And I had resigned myself that it may not happen. I felt like I have to be emotionally ready for that.

At 945 I realized that while I had attached my PayPal, I had not attached my credit card to my account. So I quickly did that. I would get that done one minute before the waiting room lobby opened. I was basically trembling with nerves.

I would be in the lobby for 9 minutes. And then I was in the queue. With almost 16,000 people ahead of me. I was stressed. I was doing all of this on my phone and was very afraid of closing the app, in case it made it restart or crash. So I was also on my tablet googling things.

This is a stadium tour. I checked how many seats are in citizen's bank stadium. About 50,000 seats. So I figured with the behind the stage seats not being available, but the field being available, I was probably in a good spot. And the time would slowly ticket down. I was in the queue for a half hour but then it was my turn.

No thoughts when into this. I grabbed the first two tickets I saw. $93. Some of the cheapest tickets they had. I was thrilled. And even with fees they were only $127. And then I had them! I didn't even know where they were in the stadium. I would check later and was fine with them. Like they are high up, but a baseball stadium is set up to see a tiny ball so there aren't actually any bad seats. I was so excited.

My chemical romance has been one of, if not my favorite band since I was 13. I have never seen them perform. I never thought I would get to see them perform. I feel so lucky that I got tickets. I didn't even try last time they were in Philly and I have regretted it for years. I am just thrilled. Like I don't even know if this is going to be a full album playthrough, new music, or what. But it for real does not matter. They could just play covers of other bands and I would be so excited still. This is going to be such a good time. Can't wait for August.

I was in a great mood after getting the tickets. And the day wasn't even over yet. I still had soup to make!

And my soup went really well. I was proud of how it came out. I wrote out the recipe in a post earlier. But in the moment it was mainly off the top of my head. Loosely based on Liz's chili soup from back when I was in bronze casting classes at community college. I always loved when it has lots of bell peppers. And so that's what I do. And I added orange bell peppers this time and not just green. I could have minced the garlic a little more maybe but it was a valiant effort for something I hate doing (cutting garlic and shallots).

It took me about an hour to make my soup. And once it was done I had a bowl, and put the rest in jars to bring to the party. I was also just texting with my dad and talking about music. He told me that him and his brother saw Led Zeppelin for $8. Wild.

I would spend some time resting. Just hanging in bed. It was nice to just lay down. I'm 22 weeks pregnant today. Baby is the size of a papaya. She's finally reached a pound. At least statistically. The last ultrasound they said she's 29th percentile so she's just a little small. But I am feeling very round. My organs already feel squished under my ribs. But I am doing okay. I'm more comfortable in some ways, and way more uncomfortable in others. I'm just taking it a day at a time.

Eventually I would go for a walk. I went to the CVS down the street and picked up some cereal. It was nice outside but I got a sharp pain in my leg and didn't want to walk more then I had to go get back home.

When I got back home I had a bowl of the cereal. Hung out on the couch with sweetp. And eventually went upstairs to gather myself for heading to pick up James to go to Jess's party.

I got a flannel for James. And packed up my soup. When I got to the car I realized that I couldn't put the seats down because of the wagon behind the passenger seat. So I took that back to the house. Jess said she had a bunch of stuff for us so I wanted to make sure we had the space.

And then I was off. I would get to the musuem a little before 4. And I was just happy to sit with James behind the desk. It's been kind of a hard week of work on James. I hope that my presence brings them some peace.

I told them about my day and getting the tickets. And it was just nice being together.

We would finish up at the museum and start the journey to Jess's at 430. And it was a fine drive. Not much traffic and at all and got to her house right at 6.

We beat the other guests. But it wasn't a long wait. In the mean time James helped Jess bring a box to the attic and loaded up all the baby stuff she had for us in the car. And then we were just waiting.

4 other people were coming. And I was looking forward to trying the soups. Besides my chili soup, Jess has made a cauliflower, Kelly made a pickle soup!!, Rex and their partner made a gourd soup, and Chuck made a Thai noodle soup. It was so fun to get to try all of them. Jess also made an excellent salad and tiny bread bowls for each of us. The conversation was good, though I was feeling really tired which made me feel withdrawn. I have been feeling very withdrawn lately and it's hard to hold conversations. I feel like I'm making a really big effort every time. But I still enjoyed the conversation. I liked sitting next to James in the bench seat. And I was just feeling happy and warm surrounded by the holiday decor.

We stayed for the ranking of the soups and then dessert. The pickle soup was a favorite of basically everyone. I liked my chili best but no one should be surprised by that. All of them were good though and the bread only made it better.

But I was feeling wildly full. Which was just not comfortable and I was struggling finding a way to sit. If I crunched up I hurt my back, but if I sat straight I hurt my belly. I couldn't win. Jess let me try her new back massager thing but I found it a bit painful. But really it was just time to go.

We said goodbye to everyone. Jess yelled at my belly to try and get baby to hear her. And then we were off.

We're about 40 minutes from home now. And I am very much looking forward to bed. Tomorrow should be a full day. With the market and then an educator event in the evening. I believe that's a wedding. So it'll be a busy day but I hope to get some rest in the middle. And hopefully I can make some sales and just have a good time.

I hope you all have a good day too. Taken care of yourself. Goodnight everyone.

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lunasohma · 2 years ago

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gone fishin’

[ ao3 / ff.net ]

Two exorcists wade into a river.

Alternatively: Natori and Matoba’s riparian adventure with an 80% chance of death or at the very least, grievous injury.

There is a hold-up at the pet shop. The sounds of a disagreement filter back through the shelves and Natori listens with the vaguest sense of disquiet. A separate queue has been formed so he moves along with it.

Matoba Seiji is arguing about aquarium dimensions at the counter.

"So, will you take this one, sir?" He watches the cashier age ten years in real-time.

Natori himself is next in line and there is nowhere to retreat.

"Yes, thank you." Matoba side eyes him when he finally steps up to the counter and he is all but pinned to the floor.

Natori Shuuichi can't help the sneaking suspicion that his day off won't be a day off anymore.

—

Once they're outside, Matoba generously offers the use of the trolley he's borrowed for Natori's bag of birdseed.

Natori relents.

The look Matoba fixes him with is innocently curious—the one he makes when it comes to potentially finding out something about his contemporaries.

So rather, it's carefully cunning.

"It's for birds," he blurts out inelegantly.

Matoba's expression morphs into bemusement and mild alarm. "Well, I should hope so, Shuuichi-san."

And so, as it always goes with Matoba, he feels the need to explain himself further.

It had started one morning with his half-finished breakfast. His last piece of toast had been spirited away before he could blink. The sparrow had glared at him in such a way that Natori had felt abashed.

Tossing a preemptive handful of crumbs before breakfast had turned into an investment of a bird feeder and birdseed. His elderly neighbor who shared his balcony space had turned up at his front door one morning.

"I find that they like these!" Natori had hurried to relieve her of the bag of birdseed that was more than half her height.

"So they'll grow big and strong," Tachibana-san had beamed.

While he ensured the safety of his future toast, the little bit of wildlife really was a respite in the city. He had found Hiiragi admiring them through the window on more than one occasion.

In fact, it had been Hiiragi who had sent him out this morning.

"They don't like this kind." They had run out of the usual brand. She was quietly devastated and Natori could not abide that, so he'd set off on his mission.

Of course, his luck had landed him in the same pet shop as Matoba Seiji.

"How sweet, Shuuichi-san.” Matoba is fighting a smile.

"I am." Natori lifts his chin and is pleased.

Matoba Seiji cuts a severe figure against the haze of the summer day. All harsh lines with his tailored suit and perfect posture. Natori would reckon that he was previously with a client. Or on the way to one? Either way, Matoba doesn't seem to be about to volunteer any information. Least of all about the fish tank.

So when he stops abruptly, Natori crashes into him and then knocks his shin sharply against the trolley.

"Shuuichi-san." He turns to him with a one-eyed stare.

"What." He rubs sullenly at his leg.

"I need to catch a fish."

"…What."

”Would you help me?"

It is with this plea and the look on Matoba's face—one that would sooner be seen on a basset hound—that Natori finally, officially, forfeits the rest of his day off.

—

There is a fish in the river.

This particular fish has been terrorizing the waterfowl and fauna. Growing at an alarming rate, it is poised to singlehandedly (fin-edly?) wreak havoc on the local ecosystem.

“Big. This big.” Matoba had held his hands apart, adjusting after a moment. “Well, thereabouts.”

Natori raised an eyebrow. “Very descriptive.”

”My informants were, yes.” Matoba said solemnly.

You’re being oddly cryptic, Seiji, Natori thinks.

“That’s about all they knew.”

Oh. Guess he said that aloud then.

And time is of the essence, apparently.

It wouldn’t be long before larger things were on the menu. The local poodle. The local poodle’s owner. That kind of thing. Natori makes a face.

”It’s not unimaginable,” Matoba says.

”I never said it was. Just improbable.”

”It’s not like you to lack imagination, Shuuichi-san.” A sliver of a smile.

“That is not something I’d like to imagine.”

“Me neither.”

—

Spells are out of the question for now.

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

”As you’d like.”

Water is difficult. The smallest ripple can and will push spiritual energy off course, disabling and dissolving a spell entirely. Forget about a river.

Conversely, if he were to believe the rumors he’s heard, if you have patience in spades, it is possible to work the ebbs and flows to your favor. Just a bit. Because ultimately, Nature has no qualms for your efforts.

Natori himself has a day job and finds solid ground preferable.

—

Currently, they are seated upon the bank, Matoba reinforcing his fish tank with pieces of spell paper.

”If only that kitty cat was here.” Natori smiles at the frown he can hear in Matoba’s voice.

“Natsume’s? He’s very conditional. I doubt you could afford his starting fee. Plus…” Natori lies back in the grass, catching sight of Matoba’s consternation in full. “For you, he’d probably refuse on principle.”

With a huff, Matoba returns to his seals.

After a while, Natori fidgets with the need to do something.

When he impulsively begins rolling up his pant legs, Matoba blinks up at him in surprise.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

”Well…”

“Exactly.”

Natori doesn’t miss how Matoba glances down at his left leg.

“Seiji.” The other man startles. “If this is it, promise me that you’ll finish me off.”

With that, he steps carefully down the bank.

And it’s true. Monster fish claims exorcist’s cursed left leg. Natori shudders. Even he is under no illusion that he would be able to live that down.

Is it really summer? Natori hadn’t been able to hold back a yelp when he’d stepped into the river.

“Something the matter?” Matoba calls from behind him.

“Oh, s’just fine.” Natori just barely keeps the chattering tremble from his voice. “Just lovely.”

You brought this upon yourself. A voice in the back of his mind chides. It almost sounds like Hiiragi.

I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy!

”Is it cold?” Natori turns with a beatific smile. Sparkles too, surely Matoba can’t be immune.

“Not at all. Come on in.” Matoba watches him warily, starting to back away.

Oh no.

It is on.

“You get in here!”

—

It is only once they have both been thoroughly soaked and have started to dry out on the bank that Natori starts thinking about poetry.

Because there is something of the sort at work here. An expanse of unfamiliar ground that they find themselves navigating together again.

Contrary to what one might think, Natori Shuuichi is not against poetic justice. The fluffy kind that his acting allows him to indulge in is the best fun. And the fact that it helps pay the bills doesn’t hurt either.

Then there are the ancient grudges and blood oaths he encounters in exorcist work that are all too real. But that’s kind of exciting in its own right.

And whatever he and Seiji have going on. Natori’s not blind. More… willfully ignorant. Ever trying for blissfully obtuse.

For today, Natori is not going to be the one to point it out. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.

The clouds are that wispy kind, all gossamer and lace, combed out against the blue of the sky above.

It is all too easy to let his eyes drift closed. His dreams are full of poetry.

—

“Surely this is not how you operate nowadays, Shuuichi-san.” Shuuichi wakes up to find Seiji peering down at him.

“Only on my days off.”

“Oh. I apologize for that.”

“S’not a big deal.” Shuuichi stretches, feeling surprisingly refreshed. “Have you seen our fishy friend?”

Seiji shakes his head. “That’s why I woke you up.”

“What?”

“We’re going to buy bait.”

Bait is an assortment of sandwiches from a nearby convenience store. Two of them are for Shuuichi and Seiji. One is for the fish.

The sandwich does the trick.

—

And it has teeth.

Several rows, like a goddamn shark. Shuuichi knows this because he has the fishy fiend by the tail, an arm’s length away. What good that does him is anybody’s guess, the creature is a good deal longer. That leaves him with one arm to keep its jaws as far away from his person as he can.

A burst of panic had made quick work of the restraints they’d managed to cast.

“You want this thing alive?” Shuuichi staggers back, thrown by the yokai’s frantic thrashing. The spell circle they’d set up as a last resort is a tempting thing.

“If you can manage to keep it like that,” Seiji calls over his shoulder, with a lilt of challenge. He’s making last minute adjustments to the tank.

Shuuichi proceeds to exhaust every curse he knows and then some as he attempts to keep the fishy devil from taking a chunk out of his hand.

—

When all is said and done, it is an impressive specimen of a fish.

Fans of fins sparkle with iridescence and its eyes glow cat-like.

Shuuichi almost feels bad, seeing it in its glass prison. Granted, he feels like that whenever he goes to a zoo or an aquarium. Of course, those animals have never tried to eat two of his fingers.

Yet the principle stands. So he is almost tempted to tip the tank and tell it to swim away as fast as it can.

Go on. Only if you apologize first. They make eye contact. A piece of Shuuichi’s shirt sleeve is still stuck in the fish’s jaws. It slurps the rest of it down before turning its tail to him. Ungrateful little brat.

—

“Hey, Mister! You caught it!” Shuuichi looks up to find two boys scrambling down the bank towards them. Dragging his heel through the last remnants of the spell circle, he watches them approach Seiji.

Seiji greets them with a pleasant smile. “Hello, again.”

The boys enthuse over the brooding behemoth at a safe distance.

“Oh yes, it put up quite a fight, but we managed.” Shuuichi rolls his eyes at the ‘we’.

They have placed bets on all manners of its features and now one boy owes the other a week’s worth of manjuu.

For some reason, Shuuichi feels his throat closing up.

“Dinner?” Seiji is saying. “No, actually this one’s going to be my pet.” He pats the tank. Absurdly, the fish seems to be enjoying the attention. It executes one lazy barrel roll.

The boys cheer.

Seiji turns to Shuuichi then, raising his eyebrows. “My informants,” he intones formally. The kids are amused.

Big. This big. Potential poodle devourer. It all makes sense. Shuuichi simpers internally.

He’ll spare Seiji today. Time for some Old Man and the Sea-esque regaling of their catch.

—

“Really? A pet?” Shuuichi asks. They’re waiting for Seiji’s car to come pick him and his new charge up.

“Maybe pet is a little generous. Rather… garbage disposal? And if it doesn’t work out…” Seiji gives a noncommittal shrug. Shuuichi shudders. Right. The Matoba are nothing if not resourceful.

“Don’t worry, Shuuichi-san, your efforts won’t go to waste.”

“The least I could ask for, I suppose,” Shuuichi sighs. He glances at the fish.

“It was nice.” Seiji watches him. “That you did that.”

“You know me, always a wellspring of goodwill.” His tone is light, a touch sardonic. The sentiment could float away to nothing. Shuuichi won’t let it.

“Yeah, you can be. Sometimes.”

Seiji doesn’t say anything. Shuuichi wonders what he’s thinking. But he won’t press that for now. Instead, he pursues the other thought nagging him.

“Do you think that they…” Shuuichi doesn’t know how to finish. At least Seiji gets the gist of it.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s grown powerful enough to be seen.”

Shuuichi considers that. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah… okay.”

There’s nothing more to say, so they don’t.

—

Seiji is surprised when Shuuichi takes him up his offer to drive him home.

The birdseed is settled next to the tank in the back and the fish snaps at the colorful bird pictured on the front of the bag, knocking its nose soundly against the glass.

The sound Shuuichi makes can only be described as a guffaw. Seiji quickly shoos him into the car, not wanting to further cement this vendetta between them.

Shuuichi promptly falls asleep.

And then maybe it’s not the best time, but when has Seiji ever really been good at that?

”Thanks for helping, Shuuichi-san.” His head falls onto Seiji’s shoulder and Seiji doesn’t have to hide his smile.

“I’m glad you were here.”

Seiji wonders what Shuuichi will say when he wakes up to find their hands laced together.

He doesn’t mind waiting to find out.

#natsuyuu #natsume yuujinchou #horrible exorcists #natori shuuichi #matoba seiji #and one big ol’ fish #fanfiction #my fic #an absurdly long time in the making #i’m glad i can finally look at it #I. Am. Looking!!#🎉#it definitely got more indulgent over time #*cough*years*cough*

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cerubean · 2 years ago

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hiii i was wondering if you have any plans to get back to the myers, i miss them! no pressure if not haha hope you have a good day

hey! i've been tossing around the idea of at least posting the posts i already have edited and ready that have been sitting in my drafts for months (it's quite a bit).

i think i'll try to come up with a schedule to queue them since i've already got a lot of gameplays going on i don't want it to be too confusing

also the reason why i stopped posting them (tw death + spoilers (? kinda)

death had been following devan for a long time in my gameplay. if im not mistaken his death counter is up to 4(?)

he got meningitis

he got malaria

he died of laughter

and lastly he died in a plane crash(??) or it might've been a car accident idk lmao

this most recent time was of a heart attack

(in conclusion, adeepindigo's mods are wild, but really good for spicing up your gameplay)

and so i decided to just let him go when he died the 5th time, and it made me really sad! i never thought i'd get emotional over a sim's death but it felt so weird not having him around to be a goofball, so i stopped playing them for a while.

i recently started playing with violet again now that she graduated from hs (and college but that's much farther ahead) and i've been having fun! im determined to make it to the 2nd generation bc i've only done it once before!!

anyways yeah that's why i took a break, thanks if you read this far!

#tw death #tw death mention #s #replies #thanks for asking btw! im always so in my head about things i forget ppl actual enjoyed those posts/household #i was looking through old posts and it wasnt as cringy as i remember

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yuusishi · 2 years ago

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Hi hii !! :3 May I request Ace, Deuce, and Idia hcs with an s/o that has a lot pf pillows on their bed? Like 12 pillows and one really soft comfortable blanket?

Bonus if their bed is an absolute mess 🫶🫶

. . . CLOUDS IN THE DORM !!

pairings : Ace Trappola , Deuce Spade , Idia Shroud x gn!reader (sep.)

genre : fluff , can be read as platonic

cws/tws : none

a/n : I HATE TUMBLR QUEUE

Ace Trappola !!

He sneaks out/finds excuses to go to your dorm often to a. spend time with you and b. your bed.

Aren't you supposed to also be a broke college student like him? How can you afford so much high quality bedding and pillows?

Hell, he even thinks that your pillows might even be the same quality of those in Pomefiore, specifically Vil's.

Whenever he comes by your dorm he'd greet you then immediately run to your room and crash on your bed, especially after a long day like exams or Professor Trein's tests.

Your bed is messy enough from you not wanting to fix it just yet and Ace is there to mess it up even further. Not tossing pillows type of messy, but somehow the pillows that were originally below the headboard ended up either on the floor or on the foot of the bed.

Which leads to you either putting the pillows back yourself or scolding Ace to do it himself. 50% chance that he'd do the latter though.

He likes that your bed smells like you, not in the creepy way, but after a while he thinks of you as a person he'd like to have around him for the rest of his life so naturally he finds your scent comforting in a way.

He has like 12 pillows surrounding him the entire time he's laying there.

Most of the time when he and the other first years hang out in your dorm, all of you stay in your room since 2 out of 5 of them are laying on the bed without a care in the world (aka Ace and probably Epel).

Deuce Spade !!

A slightly more respectful version of the Ace portion, still crashes in your dorm after a long day, though. At least he bothers to remove his shoes before entering the dorm.

Honestly Deuce won't immediately just body slam himself into the bed, even when both of you have gotten really close already.

He'd calmly sit down first then just crawl into the bed, maybe even put on the blanket if he feels like it.

The type to hug one of your pillows because of how soft it is, he kinda looks like he's suffocating it in his sleep though...

I feel like he'd still end up messing up the bed in the times he falls asleep (which is often) because he gives off the energy of someone who'd move around a lot in his sleep.

Evil warm pillow enjoyer, the warmer your pillows the eepier he gets.

If the first years are over, he'd just sit on the floor then lean on the side of the bed, occasionally he either sits on one of your pillows or unconsciously holding one.

Idia Shroud !!

Oh my god he's in heaven.

His routine (after class) is usually just "play games, sleep on bed", his bed is a 7/10 at best. Pillows are average, the saving grace is that hanging phone holder he has placed on his headboard.

But sometimes he comes by your dorm to hang out and play games, most of the time in your room to sit with you on your heaven-sent bed with the softest bedding and comfiest pillows he's ever felt.

Sometimes he falls asleep because of how comfortable he is there and gets embarrassed when he wakes up laying down with the blanket on and 3 pillows surrounding his sides.

When those situations happen he doesn't know if he should get up and apologize for falling asleep or stay there and just enjoy the moment.

He doesn't really mind the messy bed actually considering his own room is pretty much a mess as well. But sometimes he'd help you fix up your bed to just do something nice.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #deuce x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader

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finniestoncrane · 3 years ago

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11 and 31 with Arkhamverse riddler, but when he still worked for the GCPD. After a shitty day at the cybercrime division at work he leaves the GCPD to catch a taxi ride home. Then boom, it starts raining heavily and the man is drenched to the bone. While he was just sitting on a bench cursing the weather, he suddenly noticed that the rain stopped trickling onto him. He looked up to see someone holding an umbrella over him. This wasn't just some ordinary someone, it was one of his coworkers, they don't talk much, but they are the only person at the GCPD that Eddie doesn't hate with every cell in his body.

Want Some Company?

Arkham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 900 poor wet rat of a man, my god i love him! thank you for this request it's so good!! 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: none omg this was fluff, pure fluff

Nothing had gone right for Ed on that Thursday. Nothing.

To begin with, his coffee order had been wrong, but the line was too long to queue again, and the barista kept whispering to their colleague and pointing at him as he stood to the side, trying to get their attention. He tried a sip, grimaced, and put it in the trash can outside.

Then, he’d had to face three of the cops he detested most as they demanded to know why he hadn’t done whatever it was they had asked of him the day before. “Because I’m not a machine.” They scoffed at him. “Could have fooled me, weirdo.”

He’d tripped on his way back from lunch, in the middle of the bullpen, dropping his cup of soup and then slipping in it in an effort to clean it up and avoid the stares of the officers, who were sniggering not so quietly as they watched, not one of them offering to help.

The system had run slow, his computer crashed and deleted three separate files he was working on, he walked in on two cops making out and was consequently berated for not knocking the door to his own office, and then he had to stay behind to finish something that was tossed onto his desk and marked urgent at 5.13pm.

And yet, he had kept his cool entirely, even when he stepped outside just as the rain fell in what seemed like sheets from the gloomy clouds, a policeman standing at the station across the street yelling at people that due to an incident, there would be no more trains that evening.

No, Edward Nigma, a man of considerable intelligence, emotionally regulated in order to maintain a strict control of himself and his environment, was capably handling everything the day had thrown at him. Until he had stepped out to hail a taxi and instead had been drenched, not that he wasn’t soaking already, in disgusting, filthy puddle water. With very little will left, he resigned himself to the worst day ever, where he had left his coat at home, and his wallet on his desk, with no food inside of him and only crappy break room coffee seeing him this far. He sat down on a bench against the wall of the GCPD, feeling very morose, letting out a little chuckle at the sky as he wallowed in his sodden, miserable, self-pity.

“Want some company?”

He turned to look in the direction the voice came from, noticing a similarly soaked figure that he recognised after straining past the rain droplets on his glasses. A colleague from the GCPD, clerical work, he was sure. Nice. Nice to him. Efficient, capable, little to no social standing much like himself. If he were the type of person to bother himself with making friends or…more…then they would be a strong contender for sure.

Upon reflection though, he didn’t even know their name. And yet, here he was, completely flustered by their appearance, the fact they had noticed him. What confused him more was that he wasn’t even the slightest bit perturbed by their presence. Usually, distance and unfamiliarity were the two things Ed valued most in any ‘relationship’ he had with someone, even a passing crush. But after the day he had, he actually welcomed someone to share it with. Still, the fact you recognised him, knew of his existence and wanted to extend a modicum of kindness to him was suspicious to him, and he needed to make sure this wasn’t going to be yet another incident in the long list of things that had royally pissed him off today.

“Company?…What?”

“Would you like some company?”

“I’m…you want to sit in the rain?”

“Not particularly, but you looked like you might need a little bit of a reprieve from sitting here wallowing!”

Every muscle in his face strained against the instinctive urge to scowl or roll his eyes at the assertion that he might be sitting in his sorrow, maybe even enjoying the rain on his skin, letting his day get completely horrible in the hopes that something, anything might come along to make it seem even a tiny bit better. And now it had, and he couldn’t be mean or he might scare that good thing away.

“I’m not wallowing. I’m…absorbing the feelings of pity I have for myself.”

“Yeah…same thing, smart guy.”

It was hard for him not to smile at the comment. Sure, it was meant to be in jest, but any time his intellect was praised he ate it up. It came so infrequently from anyone but himself, he needed to make sure he appreciated any positive comments when they happened.

“Come on, I think there’s a taxi rank somewhere on the next block. If we’re quick we might beat that group of people heading to the station now. Share a cab?”

“Do we live near each other?”

“I guess so, you take the train and get off at the same stop as me. Not that I’ve been stalking you!”

They were laughing sheepishly, and Ed couldn’t help but join in. Although internally he was cursing himself for never paying attention to the people around him. If he’d know that their laugh was so sweet and pleasant, he’d have made it his mission to listen to it on the train home every evening. It might have made the commute bearable.

Nevermind though, it would make this evening much brighter, which he definitely deserved after the day he’d had.

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omiyagiri · 3 years ago

Text

what's mine is not yours | part 2

pairing: Sakusa x f!Reader cw: swearing word count: 2.3k part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 forthcoming

Breakfast is a whole ordeal. The queue is a painful zigzag stretching all the way out from the cafeteria doors into a corridor, floundering down, down, down into a slice of space meant for quiet study. Except it's not quiet anymore; students are huddling together in their social groups, a mass of writhing limbs, passing jokes and tired nudges.

You take one look at this, at your phone's clock, and decide a vending machine coffee will suffice.

But even the vending machines have queues. Goddammit. There goes your schedule, your plans, everything. Tossed out the window—Goodbye. Your mood curves, stutters, and spirals down into the floor where it crashes in an inferno and dies. Oh well. Just one of those days. Means the day tomorrow has a higher probability of going right. Right? Right.

You march straight to class as you rub the vestiges of sleep from your eyes. It's a gross kind of crust which embeds into your waterline, and you really have to swipe at it three to four times, using passing windows to ascertain if you've completely removed it.

While you wipe the flakes off your knuckles and suppress a yawn with your other hand, you nearly backend a student. His long legs circumnavigate around you—It's gracefully humiliating because you on the other hand are stumbling and losing balance from the weight of your backpack sucking you to the floor.

"Crap," you say as you reach out to anchor yourself against a hallway chair and regain your footing. When you're certain you won't fall over, you raise an apologetic hand. "Sorry about that. You okay?"

Of course you had a gut feeling about who you almost collided with. Because it feels like any interaction you have with this guy is just a collision in of itself—A disruption, an inconvenience. Unpredictable.

Sakusa stares at you with his permanent resting bitch face, hitches his backpack up higher, and says on a suffering sigh, "Watch where you're going."

"Yeah, that's on me." It's easier to not make enemies with someone you're forced to cooperate with on a shared grade. "I'll watch my feet next time."

"Hmm," he says noncommittally, and retreats into the classroom.

Stellar start to the day. It gets better and better. You follow after him and try to not linger on the aggravation bubbling inside your stomach.

Sakusa is true to his word and doesn't steal your seat again. He ascends up the lecture hall stairs and slides himself into a vacant row. Fuck, he even swabs down the desk surface with an antibacterial wipe before he procures his notebook and writing utensils. Once again, you feel far less prepared by comparison.

The professor drags himself in, his throat-clearing reverberating against the wall panels as he shambles towards the projector. You whiteknuckle your pen, tearing the tip into your notebook paper. Time to release your suppressed anger into cathartic, violent notetaking.

Thirty minutes into the lecture you're experiencing the symptomatic repercussions of skipping breakfast and your morning coffee. Eyelids are solid weights, stomach is shivering and groaning, and your mind has settled into a gelatinous mist. No thoughts, just write. Persevere through this lecture.

And persevere you did. Through the stabbing pain of hunger, and the brain-fuzz, you manage to record every syllable leaving your professor's mouth until he's spreading his arms and banishing you all from his classroom for the day. You pack your things and coalesce with the herd of students with one goal in mind: Cafeteria.

God, please.

"It's still packed," Sakusa says, several feet away from you but walking parallel. His legs allow him to eclipse your pace, and you're staring at his yellow backpack and red duffel bag.

"The cafeteria?" you say.

He gives a curt nod.

"Was it that obvious I was heading over to it?"

He peers over his shoulder, one lidded, brooding eye critically analyzing you. "I could hear your stomach from a whole row away."

Shit. You trail further behind him, maneuvering away from his gaze so he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. Noted. You'll never skip a meal again. Next time pack a snack to avoid this kind of situation.

"Sorry, I hope the noise wasn't distracting."

Sakusa walks at the same speed—As in, entirely outstripping you. This prompts you into thinking it's his silent way of indicating the conversation is over, but then he slows down, examines his phone, and casts another glance at you.

"It's because there's several road teams staying in the sports dorms."

"Road—Uh, road teams?"

"Visiting teams."

"Question still stands. Sports noob, remember?"

"It means other collegiate teams are visiting to compete against our home ones. Which is why the cafeteria is at max capacity."

Okay. Maybe you didn't need that much information spoon-feeding, but it was entertaining seeing him commit to talking more than usual. He has a distractingly deep voice. Pleasant sounding. It's a shame he doesn't talk more in general. Dude really hit the gene jackpot with everything. Sharp jawline, appealing black curls framing the edges of his face, and two—

"You're staring," he says.

The both of you were now walking in sync. Even though your leg strides weren't mirroring one another, as his were longer, he had slowed down significantly into an easygoing gait.

"Yeah," you admit, "I didn't realize you have two moles."

"Surprise," he says with zero inflection, eyes looking straight ahead.

"Do you get a lot of confessions?"

He answers your question with a question of his own, doused with his usual dose of blunt sarcasm. "Does having two moles have any correlation whatsoever with receiving love confessions?"

"Certainly. They're very eye-catching."

"Clearly not enough. You didn't notice them until now."

"Because I was tired yesterday and this morning—And, and I don't like making eye contact. It's awkward."

Sakusa then decides it is prime time to make eye contact with you. It's flat, devoid of emotion. Just a taught connection between your eyes and—

"There he is!" A tall man carves a path out of the students in front the two of you—An ocean bisecting apart. He raises a hand up in the air.

A high five? Sakusa doesn't indulge him, instead shouldering past, chin collapsing towards his neck and shoulders hunching inwards.

"Murai," he says in lieu of a proper greeting.

You feel distinctly out of place. Especially when this "Murai" person, realizing he's not receiving any high-fives from Sakusa, repositions his palm to face you with a cheeky grin. His other is resting against the duffel bag slung across his shoulder—The same color as Sakusa's. It clicks in your brain. Sports. Volleyball. Road teams.

Sakusa's on the volleyball team, and this must be a teammate of his.

Wanting to make a good first impression, and because the people pleasing side of you of course heeds any request, unspoken or otherwise, you on instinct raise your hand and give him the weakest, floppiest high-five. There's sweat on his palm and it smears against yours when you peel your hand away. Ah. Hopefully the disgust isn't evident on your face.

Murai fingerguns you with a wink. "A team player. You love to see it. A general you, of course."

You have no idea what the fuck he just said but you nod and laugh along like the socially awkward monster you are. "Aha, yeah. I guess?"

"Lay off, Murai. She won't understand your gross eccentricities." Sakusa swings his gaze back towards you. "And don't enable him. He'll never stop. He's like a fucking dog whose behavior is guided by operative conditioning based solely off of positive reinforcement."

"Well I'm in luck since according to a poll taken last year, about fifty percent of the population is comprised of dog people." Murai continues fingergunning you to the point you're worried he's stuck on an infinite loop. "So what's it gonna be? I've got a fifty-fifty chance here. You a dog person?"

"Dogs are nice," you say. What the fuck who words it like that? You sound like you're some alien creature from outer-space trying to assimilate with mankind.

"Gross," says Sakusa.

Murai fist-pumps and salutes you. "Knew it. You had those vibes. Man's best friend, right? What's your favorite breed?"

You have no clue. You've never owned a dog before. When's the last time you've seen one in person? "The Labrador."

"Double knew it." Murai conveniently grows bored of talking to you and returns his attention to Sakusa. "You pumped for today's match?"

"As I'll ever be," Sakusa says simply.

"They've got a talented setter. Knows how to hide his hands." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie for effect. "And their blockers are infamous for stuffing every ball."

"I'll just break through their blocks, then." Sakusa shrugs. "Or go around them. They're not a powerhouse team."

Murai laughs and shakes his head. "Whatever you say, dude. Are you on your way to practice? I'll help you stretch."

"I don't need help stretching."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' I'll see you at the gym." He nudges his face towards yours and pulls one hand out from his pocket to send you a wave. "Would you like to watch us practice? We don't get much of an audience."

Sakusa heaves a sigh. "Because. It's practice. Nobody watches practice. You don't have to watch us practice."

Before you can pop open your mouth for a response, Murai is huffing out an offended squawk. "We look so cool when we practice! The secret is it's far less tense when we're not playing against an opponent team, so we're at liberty to really pull off some cool, experimental moves. C'mon, c'mon. The stands are all empty. It's lonely. It'd be cool to know someone's observing us!"

There's too much spotlight on you, and you're not sure you have the stamina to watch some dudes play who you're not friends with. Even acquaintances seems like too generous a term. You try to mentally parse through friendly ways of declining his offer, but fortunately Sakusa steps in with the save.

"Stop pressuring her. She's busy with schoolwork." Sakusa lifts his chin up and tampers with his phone. "I won't be able to contribute to the project tonight because of a game. If you could work on the segment I've assigned for today—"

"Yeah! My pleasure, really." Thank youuuu, Sakusa. Absolute life saver. Whether he knew it or not, or maybe he genuinely didn't want your presence anywhere near him more than necessary, this freed you from Murai's pleas for attendance. "I'll go ahead and work on it tonight. I hope you guys have a good game at baseball—I mean, volleyball. Volleyball."

A gasp tumbles from Murai's lips. "Do I look like a baseball kinda guy? That's the most boring sport."

"You'll have to forgive her," says Sakusa, with something reminiscent of a smug grin on his face. It's so tiny, so microscopic, that you think it's the blaring overhead lights playing a trick on you. "She's not a sports person."

"Noted," says Murai gravely. He claps his hands together and bows his head in prayer towards you as he walks backwards. "I pray you one day realize that you're sleeping on the coolest sport to ever exist. And that you look up my name online to watch clips of my nasty dumps."

"Your what?" you say, gut-punched and reeling.

"Again. Not a sports person. Stop throwing terminology at her she won't understand, you idiot."

"It was intentional! The look on her face is hilarious!"

"It's really not," says Sakusa.

Murai's not listening, his bellyfuls of laughter drown out Sakusa's response and he's literally holding his abdomen like he's afraid his internals are going to spill out. Meanwhile your hands feel too inactive, your legs are walking through jelly, and a pulse rings in your ears. This is it. This is pure, unadulterated embarrassment.

What makes it worse is you can tell Murai's not trying to actively make you uncomfortable.

Sakusa rubs behind his ear, fingers assuaging the chafe marks from where the elastic band of his mask meets his skin. He squints at Murai. It shuts him up and he smiles apologetically at you.

"Sorry, did I go too far?" he says.

You nod. "Just a little. But don't worry, it's just hard to match your energy right now."

"Noted, I'll tone it down a notch." He pushes his thumb and index finger together.

"Thanks," you say.

Sakusa and Murai move further away from you as the hallway forks into two different directions. You take the hint, and wish them one last goodbye and a good day.

Murai's eager "You too" overlaps with Sakusa's more quiet "Goodbye." But you don't miss the way your last name falls from lips. His expression is still as uncaring, impassive as ever, but this doesn't stop the way your heart squeezes in an unfamiliar way, or the buzz riding through your veins, and the tightening of your throat.

Of course.

You found him handsome, you found his mannerisms both no short of irritating and also endearing, but did this really have to mean you like him? Then you realize, this is a feeling you haven't had since elementary school. Since you were forced to hold hands with a classmate, and experienced them squeezing onto you like a lifeline. Experienced them laughing at a joke you told, like it was the funniest fucking thing they'd ever heard. Experienced them pushing their crayon box your way when they saw you ran out of blue ones to color in your sky. Experienced them sneaking their food onto your tray with a gleeful smile while the teacher wasn't looking.

That feeling of being the most important person in the world, even if it's for two minutes or two seconds or the time it takes for someone's mouth to form the letters of your name.

You wanted to be Sakusa Kiyoomi's friend.

Not even ten minutes later your phone vibrates with a message.

Chair stealer: Sixth floor. Staff building. Vending machine near room 631 is always overstocked with canned coffee. Sorry about Murai.

Chair stealer: He's a highly acclaimed setter, and like most setters of that kind of caliber he has an infuriating personality.

You: Do all highly acclaimed setters boast about their nasty dumps

Chair stealer: Unfortunately.

You laugh, and finally change his nickname from "Chair stealer" into "Sakusa."

by wobbles

#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu headcanons #hq!!#haikyuu!!#hq x reader #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa #haikyuu x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #kiyoomi sakusa #wobbles

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shaunsummers · 2 years ago

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Reunited, and It's in the Woods!

"Sounds like a plan." Sticking close to her side, Lilith is quick to pull out her phone in search of music. The time away on their little retreat was in need of some fun pop beats and, as a bonus, it would be sure to piss Devin off; she had just the play list. Though, in wondering where that angry goblin ran off to, her eyes trail across the cabin in search for clues. Both dogs were content on the couch. Zeus' eyes trailing their moves with a smile while Captain chewed on his ball with drooling chomps. That's when she spots it. The light shining underneath the bathroom door. No doubt, Devin was already stressing the sewer system of this nice little cabin. Oh yeah, she was gonna get it. Not a moment too soon, Lilith queues the music that causes a loud scream of "NOOOOOOOOO!" from the bathroom.

"California girls

We're unforgettable

Daisy dukes

Bikinis on top"

Just like that, Tek was so quick to reassure her that everything was okay. It was a relieving contrast to the different varieties of lashing out Ash could provide; she wasn't going back, couldn't relive anything of the sort. It might as well have been a slow death. As she tried to still the crashing waves, the notion is returned in kind with a deep kiss against her temple; this moment serving a purpose to begin cementing the fountain of the things she treasured most. "You might get tired of hugging me when this is all over." Still, Siren couldn't help but to chuckle in the display that was Tek as her purest. What a fine thing it was to be reunited. "But I think someone beat us to the music." As the bass of the song's volume is turned up loud enough to be heard outside, her feet start to carry Tek towards her car, not willing to let her go just yet. "Let me help you with your bags."

----

Having spent so much time around Lilith, she knew the music that was about to come blaring through those speakers. But hearing Devin's wailing on top of it immediately sent her cackling. She wasn't even in the room. "Christ, already?" She didn't need to look to guess Devin was already having a shit. They just got there. Shaun still set to work, pulling already chilled ingredients from the cooler. "She's never been my favorite, but suddenly I really like Katy Perry. For some reason." Shaun flashes Lilith a shit-eating grin, idly rifling through the cabinets for a pitcher and a glass. Hell, Devin was getting a paid-for trip, free food, and booze. She could suffer a little.

After assembling Lilith's guilty pleasure—long island ice tea, gin instead of rum and vodka—and filling a cup, she could already feel the side-eye. "Not yet." Shaun shoos away her hand. She couldn't afford the cabin when the only income she had was disability, but she could cover food and drinks. And if chucking a few bucks towards some lemons and a pack of little paper umbrellas would help make the difference, that she could do. And so, she cuts off a slice to add to the edge, digging around until she found the pièce de résistance, popping in the tiny floral accessory before relinquishing her hold. Meeting Lilith's odd look, though, she raises a brow with a humored smile. "Well, we are on holiday."

"Tired of hugging you? Never." Tek grins, clinging to her without protest as they travel back to her car. But hearing the distant thump of music, her smile only widens. "Hot. Girl. Summer." Hell, Lilith managed to escape her for now, but Tek had a whole lot of hug coupons to cash in.

Even when she has to get down to cut the engine, she was still unwilling to abandon their connection and holds Siren's hand, pulling her along to open her trunk. "I didn't bring much." And she didn't; she separates for only a moment to toss Siren a deceptively light duffle bag before grabbing the other, swinging it over her shoulder. "I said a lot of snacks." Tek easily returns to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist as they make their way back. "And I dunno about you, but I'm ready to get sorority schwasty." It was just a flash of thought, but she couldn't help but to think how jealous/proud Aiden would be right now.

Entering the door, the sight before her had both her excitement and bewilderment. "There's tiny umbrellas?!" Oh, he'd be so jealous. It was strange, though. Such a small, barely noticeable thing, but she'd been around Shaun long enough to know there was nothing tiny-umbrella about her. Or to not at least groan at the music. And they were standing so close. It wasn't as if Tek had never thought it—she even straight up asked because she'd assumed they were together—but Shaun gave a solid, emphatic "No.". Lilith did too. Yet, the suspicion was quick to surface again. Despite time making her less angry and a little sweeter, there was just no way the girl that was snorting coke, drinking whiskey, and setting fires was sitting there making "froo froo" drinks with mothafuckin' umbrellas in them. Still.... "You gonna share?" She smiles broadly.

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lovebugmusings · 5 years ago

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The Manager || Platonic! Sunset Curve x Reader

Requested by anon

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: the guys swear because nobody can tell me that a bunch of 17 year olds in a rock band in the 90’s didn’t swear. I know i said fluff but i had an angst idea and it was too good not to add (i’m sorry). and while i don’t bother with adjusting to the american spelling most of the time, I did for ‘mom’ and ‘flavor’ and i hated it every time i typed it. final note: if i were to do more parts it would become a series rewrite, so if that’s something that interests you, let me know!

Warnings: character death, unhappy home life (no details)

While being the manager for Sunset Curve often felt closer to being a parent sometimes, it’s not a job you would trade for the world. Well, less a job because you weren’t really getting paid, but it was a good gig. You got to see some awesome venues and other small musicians, you quite often got free food from venues, and of course, got to hang out with your favourite boys. They gave you a place in the world, somewhere where you felt at home. They were family. Plus, Luke had graciously allowed you to crash in the studio with him when things got bad at home.

You swing the door open, duffle bag over your shoulder, and march into the studio. It’s late, again, but your parents had started going off while you were trying to study and your father had mentioned your name, so you grabbed the emergency bag and climbed out the window. Luke looks up from his page and watches as you drop the bag on the ground and flop face down on the sofa.

“Again?” You hum and nod into the pillow before flipping onto your back.

“Dad said my name and mentioned something about grades and the band and I left before they could drag me into it further.” You glance over to see he has closed his journal and is resting his forearms on the acoustic in his lap.

“Smart move.” You laugh and shift again to lay on your side. “The guys are in the house getting food by the way.” As if on queue, Reggie walks in with a stack of pizza boxes, Bobby has his arms full of bags of various snacks, and Alex is carrying an open cooler full of bottles of soda.

“Oh hey, Y/N!” Alex raises the fingers on one hand in a wave before putting the cooler on the ground in front of the sofa.

“Parents again?” Bobby gives you a sympathetic look before dropping the bags next to the pizza boxes Reggie had put on the coffee table.

“Yep!” You pop the ‘p’ sound with false enthusiasm.

“You may as well just move in at this point.” Luke says it like a joke, but it’s been a joke for so long that you all know he says it seriously.

“You know what?” You sit up quickly and give a short nod. “My parents both have work tomorrow, you lot are gonna help me grab what I need.” It was that simple. The boys all make varying statements of agreement before sitting on the miscellaneous chairs around the coffee table.

Luke had suggested you all dress in black for the heisting of your belongings, and as Alex was the only voice of reason, you all ended up head-to-toe in black.

“Shh.” Luke whips around and presses a finger to his lips when you swing the door shut behind the group.

“There is literally nobody home Luke. And also this is my house. We don’t need to be quiet.” You gesture around the entrance with your hands as you speak, and Luke turns around and pulls the black beanie he insisted you wear, down over your eyes. You swat him away and he shushes Reggie as he laughs at you.

“It’s a heist! You gotta be quiet.” You roll your eyes after putting the beaning back in place on your head, before walking towards the staircase. “Everyone remember the plan?” Turning around you fold your arms and roll your eyes again.

“School stuff.” Bobby salutes Luke, who nods.

“Blankets and pillows!” Reggie copies Bobby’s salute, and is also nodded at. Alex rolls his eyes, and with far less enthusiasm holds his hand in a salute.

“Stuffing and zipping up bags.” Luke nods once more then turns to you with an expectant look.

“Toiletries and underwear.” He taps his foot and clears his throat dramatically, staring at you, waiting. “Oh, right.” You salute him as well.

“And I’m on clothes!” You hear the noise of his hand hitting his forehead as he salutes with a bit too much force. “And if we hear the ‘rents, we move to Y/N’s room as quietly as possible, where we will finish packing what we have and bail out the window. Let’s move out!” You aren’t sure if he expected you all to go separate ways, but you move as a group up the stairs and into your room so that everyone can collect bags. Bobby takes your school bag, Reggie a duffle bag, and Luke and Alex reef a suitcase out from the top of your wardrobe. You swing a drawstring bag over your shoulder as you watch Luke nearly drop the suitcase on Alex, who promptly swears at him.

With a final salute, you all part ways. You hear Bobby thundering down the stairs as you walk over to the bathroom, rolling our eyes at him. Grabbing your toiletries, including spare deodorants and toothpastes, before moving back into your bedroom where your drawers have been pulled open and clothes are being tossed onto the bed by Luke. You can only watch in horror and amazement as your clothes are thrown out of the drawers, and Alex folds them at an incredible speed. You want to ask him how he is folding them so quickly, but you don’t want to break his concentration. Instead you move to the unopened drawer and collect all your underwear, shoving it into the bag in your hands on top of the items already in the bag. You grab your hairbrush, adding it to the bag, before pulling the strings on the bag and closing it.

“Need a hand, Alex?” He looks up after placing a folded shirt neatly in the suitcase. He opens his mouth to respond but instead snorts as you are hit in the head with a pair of jeans.

“Shit, sorry!” You pull the jeans from over your shoulder and glare at Luke, who has his hands covering his mouth.

“Screw you.” You flip him off, then fold the jeans and place them in the suitcase.

The three of you managed to empty all your drawers and were in the process of sorting out what heavier jackets to take from your closet when you hear a door close, followed by thundering feet. The door is swung open and Bobby leans against the doorframe.

“Mother.” Is all he manages to get out before Reggie tries to push past him and they both tumble into your room, making a thump as they land.

“Shhh!” You and Luke push your index fingers to your lips, shushing the guys at the same time, but it’s too late.

“Y/N?” You all freeze as your mom calls out for you. You turn to the guys, left index finger still pushed to your mouth, as you point to the window with quick and sharp motions. They all nod and collect the bags and suitcases (a second was grabbed at some point in their packing) and move to the window. You don’t want your mom to know you are home to avoid whatever argument will undoubtedly occur, hence the attempt at silence, but when Reggie drops the suitcase he’s carrying with a echoing thud, you realise that won’t be possible.

“Shit. I’ll meet you at the car. Go!” You whisper harshly at the guys as he raises his hand to apologise and you leave your room, shutting the door behind you to hopefully muffle any more noises they make and buy them some more time. “Yeah mom?” Your mom waits at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, as you make your way down. “What’s up?” You try to mask your anxiety about the whole situation by leaning against the railing.

“Don’t ‘what’s up’ me. You disappeared last night, and while I know you were at the studio with the band, you could have at least called to let me know that you were okay. Because really I didn’t know for sure because you didn’t call! You could have even called me this morning to say you were coming home. I had no way of knowing if you were safe, or, or, or if something had happened. I didn’t know!”

“Mom-” You try to say something to calm her down but she interrupts, clearly not finished with her lecture.

“And you’re letting your grades slip! Running around with those stupid boys in that stupid band. You say you’re their manager, but it’s not a job and it’s definitely not a career! You need to pay more attention to class instead of going to clubs and venues with them. Which isn’t safe! Running around Hollywood with those four idiots in the middle of the night, sometimes not even coming home. There are all kinds of dangerous people out there and with no adult supervision anything could happen!”

“Mom!”

“No. Your father isn’t right about a lot of things but he’s definitely right about not letting you see them again. Being friends with them is dangerous, not because they are, but because none of you have any common sense or self preservation!”

“Mom, enough.” You rarely stood up to her, and you had never scolded her before, but calling the only four people that truly felt like family ‘idiots’ was the last straw. “I know it isn’t a job, but they are my best friends, and I enjoy going to those venues! I know it could be dangerous but the five of us are always together. My grades haven’t slipped, except maybe a couple of classes by one or two percent. But it’s not going to ruin me. And-” The door slams shut and you look up quickly from your mother to see your father in the door.

“Y/N.” Your father speaks very even and monotone, and his moves are all calculated. But his hands are clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Hi dad.” It was overly formal, and your brain screams at you to run, run from this conversation. But you can’t. You need to make sure the guys are as far away as possible, hopefully even at the car. You don’t think your father would track them down to stop you, but you don’t want to tell your parents you are leaving, and really you weren’t actually sure he wouldn’t track them down and drag you home. “How was work?” Poking the bear was very stupid.

“You disappeared last night, didn’t bother to leave a note or anything and scared the shit out of your mother!” You flinch slightly as he raises his voice. “You won’t be seeing that ridiculous band ever again, I can promise you that.” You glance at the clock and quickly decide that the guys have had enough time to get to Bobby’s car parked in the next street over. So you nod along in faux understanding. “You’re grounded, and you will spend the rest of the night until dinner studying.” You scoff and try to act pissed off, storming back up the stairs. To add to the act, you slam the door shut behind you, before grabbing a hoodie and climbing out the window.

You sneak around the house, watching your parents carefully as they move to the living room. They seem to be arguing again, almost certainly about you. You hop the fence into the neighbours yard then book it down the street to the waiting car. The engine is going and the second Reggie sees you, the windows are rolled down and they are yelling at you to hurry up, Bobby leaning over to open the passenger-side door. You laugh as you dive into the passenger seat. The door is barely shut when Bobby revs the engine and you drive away, a rock song from a mixtape you had made Bobby for his birthday playing loudly through the speaker and the five of you singing along and laughing.

“Boys I have excellent news!” Wrong notes are played and a drumstick is dropped as you fling open the door with a piece of paper in your hand.

“Christ, Y/N.” Bobby places a hand to his heart as Alex leans down to pick back up his drumstick.

“What’s the news?” Luke places his guitar on a stand and slides over to you.

“Sit sit!” You gesture your boys towards the sofa on the opposite wall. “I won’t just tell you, there’s no fun in that!” They groan but comply, squashing together on the sofa, Alex with his legs over Luke’s, Reggie sitting cross-legged with his feet under him, and Bobby putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“Well?” Luke leans forward over Alex’s feet and rests his elbows on his knees.

“As you know I have been going around to potential venues to get you guys a show that isn’t in a bar that perpetually smells like puke, while you are playing your puke-scented shows and writing new hits.”

“Yeah.” They all reply at the same time and your smile grows.

“And I am also the best manager in the world, especially because of the fact that I am your manager.”

“Yeah yeah. Just tell us.”

“Bobby, quiet. I am building suspense.” Reggie swats his arm as if to say ‘yeah Bobby’. “Anyway. You also know that you are all incredibly talented and you will become the biggest band every.” The guys are all leaning forward and staring at you, waiting for you to finally tell them what news you’ve bought. “Alex, drumroll.” He immediately complies with an enthusiastic drumroll on Luke’s back. “You’re playing the Orpheum!” You throw your hands up as the guys all jump up and celebrate. “Are you serious?” Bobby grabs the piece of paper with the show contract as Reggie picks himself up off the floor after tripping over his feet trying to stand.

“How did you do that?” Luke is jumping on the sofa and Alex is shaking you by the shoulders.

“I’m just that good.” You manage so say through the laughing and shaking.

“Size beautiful.” You roll your eyes as Alex groans and Reggie hands the poor bartender the shirt and demo.

“Thanks.” She laughs as she holds up the Sunset Curve shirt before tossing it over her shoulder.

“I am so sorry about him.” You say genuinely to her, stood between Reggie and Luke.

“No worries. I’ll make sure not to wipe the table down with this one.” She offers them all a polite smile that you can tell is a forced customer service smile.

“Oh, good call. Whenever they get wet, they just kinda fall apart in your hands.” Alex gestures with his hands and you hear Bobby sigh.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hotdogs?” Oh? You realise that Bobby very likely wants to flirt with Bartender Rose and is trying to get rid of you all, finding his bandmates embarrassing sometimes. Luke pushes him back and nudges you with his shoulder as he leans over the bar, giving it a quick drum with his hands.

“Yeah, he had a hamburger for lunch.” He bounces then walks away, and Reggie shoves his shoulder.

“See you before the show.” You elbow him as you follow after Luke and Reg, and Alex bounces to catch up to you.

You eye the hotdog as it is handed over to you. You trust the guys but you don’t trust this hotdog ‘vender’ who is the sauce bottle sitting in his engine. You watch as Alex tells him that he spilt pickle juice into the car as you add sauces and toppings to your own. The vender says that it will help and laughs as Alex sputters, looking at you mumbling about how that doesn’t sound right.

“That’s a new flavor.” You nod, continuing to chew as Alex says what you are thinking through a mouth full of hotdog.

“Relax,” Reggie looks over at him, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The logic is sound enough so you all take another bite.

You stomach hurt, god it hurt. It was like being punched in the gut over and over again, and your stomach was turning, and with every breath in your sides hurt. You could hear Reggie and Alex groaning over your own noises, but you couldn’t hear Luke anymore. You felt the tears rolling down the sides of your face but you couldn’t move your hands away from your stomach. You barely heard the paramedics arrive over the sound of the blood rushing through your ears, and while you could hear them talking you couldn’t decipher words.

You let out a sob as a paramedic leans over you. You barely register being lifted onto an ambulance bed, but you turn your head and watch as Alex is lifted into one. As they wheel you out you see a black bag being zipped up.

You feel light headed as they lift you into the ambulance and you hear Reggie gulp in a breath, before the paramedics swarm over to him. Alex is wheeled in next to you and you see his hand reach out to you. You forcefully peel your hand away from your stomach and hold his hand. You squeeze your eyes shut and hear the paramedic sigh, defeated. You let out a groan, then a sob, and squeeze Alex’s hand as you struggle to breathe. He lets out a pained noise and squeezes your hand back.

Then it’s all gone, and your body is rising. You turn to Alex and see your body, and Reggie’s body, with a version of him floating above his body. You stare at him wide-eyed but he looks past you at Alex. You both watch as the paramedics give up on you and move over to Alex as the heart rate monitor gives a solid high beep. And then he’s rising and looking at you and Reggie. The three of you rise above the ambulance and you hear Alex whisper Luke’s name, looking above just you. You catch sight of him for a second before he disappears. The second he does you feel the pulling that was simply causing you to slowly float up, gave a harsh tug and you were suddenly in a black room.

Alex cried when he arrived, and you felt yourself panic. You were dead. You just died. You and three of your best friends had just died. Reggie was pacing and Luke had just sat on the ground, head in hands. Your own hands were shaking and you couldn’t look at one spot or person for longer than a second.

The pulling feeling returns after a while and you are falling, the four of you screaming before landing on a carpet, a girl around your age screaming back at you.

---

Taglist: @parkeret @marinettepotterandplagg @amazing-socks (if you want to be added to a tag list, send in an ask!)

#sunset curve x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #platonic sunset curve #jatp x reader #platonic jatp x reader #platonic julie and the phantoms x reader #platonic sunset curve x reader #platonic reggie x reader #platonic luke patterson x reader #platonic alex x reader #char writes #redhoodparker-writes masterlist #platonic julie and the phantoms #gender neutral #this may end up as a series but i don't know if i want to commit to multiple series'#though not sure if i want to let go won't be a series

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sad-boy-hank · 3 years ago

Note

Following a pair of g03lms unnoticed as loud as they were wasn't very hard to do. You'd most definitely be tossed around and treated like a cheap stress toy if they were to ever catch you judging from how you've seen them treat others caught on the job- but they do keep you safe by clearing out areas that used to be occupied by the blue light survivors n zeds.

Known Visit #1

After the first few times you've run into them and figured out the areas they frequented you made the mistake of leaving your draft letters of appreciation and self rambling of what might've been appropriate gifts to maybe start leaving as payment for the accidental protection in one of your earlier hiding places. Being called a little creep and being judged for how messy your drafts were didn't exactly feel good but neither did the moment they figured out that the spot had been recently used and you were likely still slinking around somewhere. Definitely took your queue to get the hell out of there. Pulling the wires for the main lights, what you didn't think of is the possibility that their goggles probably gave them some advantage to see in the dark and just as you were about to make it out the nearest vent four cyan lights had been trained on you. A careful step forwards was made from the light of the main gunner.

...

"Jorge, what are you fucking doing?" after bolting into the vents you could hear Jorge bitching at the other for scaring you off and it almost would've seemed cute if you hadn't known anything about them. It was bright out so there was no way you'd crawl out of the building completely and instead hid just beyond the first bend of the vent until the two seemingly lost interest

Known Visit #8

You're well aware they know of your presence out on the streets when they stop insulting a now dead, smaller pair of grunts abruptly. The one you've learned to be Church lightly shoved Jorge to the side saying something about how it's his turn to try to call the pipsqeak over. Kneeling and holding a hand out, there was a long, uncomfortable silence. Staring at the offered hand for a few before switching your attention to their eyes. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to entertain them? Few steps forwards from yourself and their armor started to vibrate from how hard they were growling- freezing in place and bracing for the worst and the growling stopped instantaneously. Purring? that was their purring? Chri-

You landed flat on your ass jumping away from Church's hands when he made a sudden grab at you- an actual growl from both g03lms caused you run out into storage to hide until they hopefully gave up until the next day

Hiding, hiding, hiding- they never gave up!

That's really about as much as you can do at the moment. Your pursuers were being uncharacteristically quiet and the apprehension that comes with the irregular and slowly approaching sound of crates and shelves being violently thrown out of the way. Hearing the foot steps grow quiet and the crashing go into another room let you know that it was safe to sprint out to the nearest safe exit was Now-

large hands wrapped around your chest, crushing your ribs as they pin you against the floor a terrifyingly loud laugh from someone with a mask sounds out of Jorge,

"Eat shit! I told you I'd get it first!" Silent crying. You're hurt but you don't need them knowing that- even if he most likely already knows, with his own hands being the ones to make your bones make noises they shouldn't. Jorge lifts you up with one hand and shakes you side to side while calling Church over to come take a look.

Further harassment to your chest caused a yelp of pain, "Awe, quit being such a baby. I didn't even grab you that hard." but he stops holding you so tight. Seeing you try to hide even now was amusing to them, especially when you resorted to pressing your face into either of their hands or chests when trying to close your eyes and pretend it's all just a nightmare that you'll wake up from. Poor thing, the nightmare never ended on their own terms.

I think they got cuteness aggression </3 -teo

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAA SCREAMS AN WAILS

#GWEE GWEE GWEE

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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

Text

The One With The Princess Leia Bikini

~Notes: This gets sorta smutty.... :S

Send Me A Friends Episode/Storyline? | Rebogs Ar Love, Reblog Are Life!

Sirius tosses a glare at an indignant James sitting across the counter from him, affronted on everything he has ever stood for.

“Brooklyn Nine Nine is way better than some stupid, ruddy drama about doctors.”

“Take that back you prick!”

“’S true!”

”Gray’s Anatomy paints the manic highs and lows of their jobs with dignity and realism.” James argues with an imperious tilt of his head. “The storylines don’t even compare!”

“There was a bomb at their wedding!”

“There was a bomb lodged in someone’s arsehole!”

Sirius opens his mouth to retort, but stutters on his words when one of their ducks steps out of his room, spitting up something green before he begins to peck at the sofa cushion.

“Good morning Pronsie,” James crows, walking over to cradle him into his arms and kisses the top of his head.

“Mate, you have to stop feeding him the peanut butter, ’s making them crazed,” Sirius tells him sagely before taking a spoonful out of the jar for himself.

“They’re just demanding,” James sniffs, perking up once Lily walks into their apartment. “You agree, love, don’t you?”

“What?” She asks, single brow kinked as she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, still dressed in her athletic wear from her run. “That your ducks are demonic.”

“See!” Sirius shouts.

“They’re just a wee bit ill, poor things,” James says with a cluck of his tongue, gingerly petting Prongs’s feathers and wandering over to Lily for a quick peck to her sweaty forehead.

“Ill in the heads,” Sirius retorts lowly, grabbing for his discarded Guinness.

James casts him a heated glower, never halting his gentle caresses to Prongs’s feathered back. “Maybe I should call Mum, she’d know how to help.”

“Oi, right, because your veterinarian mother has nothing better to do.”

“She likes the marauders wanker!”

“Okay, did not come here to interrupt one of your lover’s quarrels,” Lily sighs, forever suffering, as she loosens and regathers her hair anxiously, tying the red main into a messy topknot.

“Rude,” Sirius and James chorus with the same peeved inflection.

“I’m exhausted you berks! Dorcas has been staying at our place ever since Marlene went on that tour around the continent to find new athletes for the firm to sign.”

“Oof, is it nasty?” James asks, gently placing Prongs the duck to the ground and straightening back up.

“She’s in a real strop over it, yeah. Re’s with her now.”

“Lils, you underestimate Cas,,” Sirius snorts, bending down and giving into Prongs’s silent plea for a snack, holding out a chunk of peanut butter for him to nibble at. “She’s not gonna let something so temporary fuck her up. They’ve been going out for over a year now.” Sirius studiously ignores the little nagging voice in his own head— one that frighteningly sounds like Mrs Potter of all people— Tooting at him that he’d certainly not be this nonchalant if Remus had to go on some research sabbatical in Rome or Athens for half as long as Marlene’s three month stint.

“You are so full of it Black,” Lily sneers, and he really wouldn’t be surprised if she’s somehow secretly found out how to read minds on her downtime from the restaurant.

“Dorcas is a diamond,” James says cheerfully. “I’m sure she’ll be right as rain soon enough.” As if right on queue they hear a booming crash coming from across the hall in Lily and Remus’s apartment. “Or erm— Maybe she won’t?”

"Prats,” Lily mutters lowly before pivoting on her heels leading the way for the three sum to frantically scramble and follow suit.

Sirius is all levels of confused once they walk in only to findDorcas starfished flat on the ground with her curls still soaked from what must’ve been a shower and grasping tight to a pink hairbrush. Remus’s standing over her with his hands on his hips, and lips pinched ever so slightly, the face he gets when he’s trying to figure out how to solve a particularly difficult dilemma. And it might be smarmy of him, but Sirius can’t help feeling a little parched when he sees the way Remus’s drenched T-shirt clings to his perfect form— near see-through.

“Is everything okay?” Lily asks as she steps closer, frowning bewilderedly.

“We just had a bit of an incident when Dorcas saw a clunk of blonde hair in the brush that Marlene shares with her.”Remus explains, excepting the kiss Sirius offers him in hello. “And well, ahem then she found a garment that Marlene had left behind… And well things escalated.”

“I’m going to be alone for forever,” Dorcas moans, making his point for him.

“I love it when you’re the dramatic one, Cas,” Sirius crows, narrowly dodging the aforementioned brush that Dorcas launches at his head. “Nice aim!”

“Leave me so I can whither away!”

“Nonsense, love, you two will be fine.” James interjects good naturedly.

“Let’s get some frozen yogurt, yeah? Get your mind off of everything,” Lily suggests lightly, helping pull her up by the hands with Remus, Sirius’s own never leaving Remus’s back pocket.

“Can we go to the place with the jellybean toppings,” Dorcas asks with a pout, head resting on Lily’s shoulder— dark tresses falling into strawberry blonde.

“Course, sweetheart,” she assures with a glowing smile.

Breathing in deep, Dorcas nods slowly, stretching her neck just slightly so to kiss Remus’s cheek in thanks before she lets Lily cart her off into her room to get changed.

“I better put the marauders into their crate if we’re going to be out long,” James announces, effectively leaving Remus and Sirius finally, blissfully, alone.

“Is this the part where I tell you that I thought you only get wet when I’m around?” Sirius asks cheekily, rounding on his boyfriend with a smirk already painted over his face.

“You can,” Remus relents with a one armed shrug. “But only if you want to not speak with me for the rest of the day.”

Sirius lets out an endeared huff, head shaking slightly before he dips down to greet him properly. “Morning gorgeous,” he beams, cupping his hands around Remus’s face before kissing him nice and thorough.

“I missed you last night,” Remus says, foreheads pressed up against each other as his hands wander up and down Sirius’s back muscles appreciatively, landing on his forearms with a small squeeze.

“I had to concentrate on that proposal for the new tube stop that Moody wanted by today.” Sirius tips back his head, toes curling ever so slightly at the way Remus is mouthing along the column of his neck, nipping at the hinge of Sirius’s jaw with particular focus. “And believe it or not Messr Lupin, but you prove a formidable distraction."

“Is that right?” Remus smiles against his skin, pressing him even closer. “And did you finish all that paperwork, architect Black?”

“Hmm, you’re getting off on this shit, aren’t you?” Sirius can’t help but laugh, especially when Remus pulls back, blinking up owlishly at him. “Oh don’t give me the innocent act, gorgeous. I’ve been able to see through that since the first night we met.”

Remus’s face turns a fetching pink, snickering slightly as he presses back up against him. “Can’t. Help. It.” Remus says between another round of peppered kisses on the lobe of Sirius’s ear, the hallow of his cheek and corner of his mouth too. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re touched in the head, just a ball of hornyness.” Sirius accuses, tugs him close once more and slants their lips together while one hand slings around Remus’s narrow waste and the other begins to knead into his ass muscle. “Shall we take this back to your room? Do this properly without any clothing?”

Remus flushes, fingers toying with the collar of Sirius’s shirt as he swallows down, hard.”Could you— Erm, could you maybe wear those glasses you use sometimes for when you’re reading those long contracts?”

Absolutely preening,, Sirius cards a hand through Remus’s caramel curls, scraping his nails gently against his scalp. “And the professorial kink makes another appearance in the bed ladies and gents.” He announces to the empty room, as if he’s a twentieth century gameshow host.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a kink, per se.” Remus argues haughtily, cheeks infused red, and teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“‘S okay gorgeous, I think your swottyness is rather cute.” Sirius goads, pecks Remus’s mouth lightly before dragging him off to his room to finally get at some bare skin.

“It’s not because I’m a swot that I like seeing you like that,” Remus harrumphs, watching as Sirius sheds off his top before sitting leisurely on the bed, feeling bloody incandescent when Remus mounts his lap, nuzzling his nose against Sirius’s neck with his arms resting against his broad shoulders.

“I’d wager you have dirty librarian fantasies too,” Sirius laughs through the kisses, thrusting upwards so that Remus’s bum bounces slightly against his hardness, fucking miraculous.

“Hah— Hmm,” Remus breathes a bit more laboredly as he settles back down. “And what if I do,” he asks primly, unwittingly making it so a thrill runs down Sirius’s spine with the thought of his boyfriend— the bloke who is most certainly the love of his god forsaken life— picturing the different ways he wants Sirius— above him and under him, all around him and deep inside of him. And Christ, what a beautiful thought.

“’S not a problem with me goldilocks,” Sirius tells him with a slight catch to his voice, not having expected that the idea would effect him so thoroughly. “Tell me do you like me stern? Maybe you turned in some late books and I had to teach you a lesson.”

“If I’m being honest, love, you don’t talk much in the fantasy,” Remus laughs when Sirius bolts upwards, flipping him so that he’s beneath Sirius and his hair is fanned on the pillow like a gilded halo.

“Fucking lies,” Sirius slips a hand through the hem of Remus’s sweats, unsurprised to find that he’s not wearing any boxer briefs, knowing full and well how Remus prefers to sleep in the nude.” “You love it when I’m waxing poetic about you, and when I’m harsh at you. When I tell you about how your mouth is meant to suck my cock, how I want to put you over my lap and spank that perfect little arse of yours.” Sirius wraps his hand around Remus’s length, twisting it slightly before starting to pump, absolutely beaming at how he’s already begun to get Remus to get that oh so beautiful glazed look over his eyes, turning him undone with a few strategic touches and perfectly crafted, perfectly illicit mutterings. “When I call you gorgeous and a filthy little slag and when I fuck into you even after you’re already spent.”

Remus’s hips rock up, eyes squint shut when Sirius uses his free hand to thumb at one of his delightfully pink nipples and pinches it for good measure while he quickens the pace of his hand sliding up and down Remus’s shaft. “Tell me how much you crave that, love. How much you love being good for me, how much you love it when I show you how.”

“Sirius— Hold on,” Remus begs, voice coming out in an almost whine— haggard and breathy and high pitched— while both his hands knot into Sirius’s dark hair, quaking so hard that Sirius knows he’s got him on the edge.

Tenderly, he dips down his head, lips pressed against Remus’s ear and hot tendrils of breath skirting against his skin. Shh, ‘s fine, baby,” he promises him, stroking him through the climax. “’S okay, just let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Oh God! Fuck! Fuck— Sirius!” Remus chokes out, hips thrusting rapidly as he chases that relief and slumping back once his orgasm quite literally pulses out, coating Sirius’s hand and abs and some on Remus’s jumper too.

“You really are gorgeous,” Sirius tells him with a smile, gingerly kissing the lids of his still shut eyes before grappling for the little baggie of wet wipes they’ve begun keeping in Remus’s night stand drawer for moments like these.

“I hate how you could do that to me,” Remus tells him with heavy breaths as Sirius cleans up, taps his side lightly so Remus rises up his hips and Sirius tosses his pants to the corner, followed by Remus’s now spoiled jumper. He really couldn’t wait to get his hands off of him after a day apart.

“Oi! ‘S not my fault that the thought of me as some stodgy librarian is what gets you going, Moonbeam.” Sirius rebukes, pulls up the comforter so that it pools around their hips, while he lies back leisurely with Remus’s head propped up on his chest.

“We’re breaking up,” Remus tells him flatly, tracing small circles against Sirius’s tanned skin, interrupted by intermittent pecks.

“Cruel,” Sirius pouts, still carding a hair through Remus’s mussed curls, can’t imagine ever living without this, not after so many years of never ending yearning and countless almosts and taking one step forwards before being pushed two back so many times that it made them bloody barmy.

But they’re here now. Sirius has Remus in ways he never thought he’d ever want to claim a person— and lets himself be claimed in the same ways right back. Sirius knows Remus and all of Remus’s little quirks— loves him all the more for it. He knows the way Remus likes his tea when he wakes up at three in the morning and can’t go back to bed, how it’s different from the tea he prefers to drink in the afternoons. Knows the way Remus licks the lip of the mug before every sip. Sirius knows Remus’s favorite book for each of his various moods, and knows that on those quiet days— the ones when Remus doesn’t like talking much at all— that Remus only needs time, needs to know that Sirius’ll be there when he wakes up the next morning with sunlit smiles and kisses that taste like violet skies and cinnamon scones and promises meant to be kept.

And of course Sirius will be there, of course he’d have Remus in any and all ways that he’d let him— He knows it in his bones that Remus feels that same crippling sort of devotion for him right back, knows that it’s a once in a life time sort of ordeal. He knows that he’s grateful for every breath they share with one another.

“”A man could take only so much smugness from his boyfriend,” Remus tells Sirius petulantly, the words belied by how he tenderly kisses his chest.

“No but Remus, darling, tel me. Who makes more of an appearance in the sexy thought time? Librarian me or the image of me in the rugby kit.”

Remus moves to flip him the bird while he nips at the patch of skin he was just lapping at with quiet reverence.

“Ouch!”

“I hate that I told you that.” Remus fumes, actually embarrassed looking as he pulls away from him.

Sirius is frantic when he circles his arms around Remus’s torso and brings his body back to lie over his own. “Nah, no, gorgeous, I like it. Gets me going. The idea that you’re so lost on me that you picture me in those different outfits.” Sirius tells him, pressing a kiss of apology to the temple of his head.

“’S not weird Sirius!”

“Course it’s not baby,” Sirius soothes, hand caressing his side meaningfully.

“You’re bloody fit— you know that! ’s totally normal that I’d wanna wank off to my beautiful damn boyfriend.”

“Completely, no one’s arguing against you, baby.”

“Hmm,” Remus huffs before springing up suddenly, pinning Sirius with a suspicious glower. “So what, you don’t ever picture me like that? In your favorite sorts of fantasies.”

Sirius throws back his head, laughing at how distressed he looks. God he’s in love with such a bellend. “Cor! Remus, me calling you Prince Ponce all those years before we finally just shagged wasn’t simply because you had a royal scepter up your arse that I wanted to replace with my prii—“ Remus shoves Sirius hard enough so he won’t finish that line, and honestly? Valid.

“So what? That’s all?” Remus fumes, settling away from him once more. “You’ve only ever imagined me as some sorta golden boy you wanted to get your grubby hands on?”

“Course not, love, there’s like hundreds I think of.”

“Like what?” Remus needles, and Sirius feels his cheeks burn scarlet as he has to avert his gaze, knowing precisely what his top fantasy is and too nervous to actually say it out loud.

“Oh c’mon Sirius,” Remus sighs, obviously having read the doubt blotched all over his face. “I’ve seen you piss while eating an ice cream cone in a public beach, and that was before we began even dating.”

“’S not my fault that Marlene got stung by that bloody jellyfish!”

“We’ve crossed the possibility of being embarrassed in front of the other long ago,” Remus continues as if Sirius hadn’t interrupted.

“Ugh fine,” Sirius grouses, tossing himself back on the mattress. “But you swear not to poke fun?”

“You have my word,” Remus says evenly, and gestures at him to continue.

“Okay— Well you don’t know this because we met so much later. But when Jem and I were younger— back in secondary school, maybe.” He coughs only slightly, gaze razor focussed on where he’s tugging on a stray strand of string hanging off the comforter, feeling suddenly very hot under Remus’s appraising gaze. “We, erm. Ahem. We were really bloody bored this one weekend so we watched the Star Wards prequels, you know. Just because everyone’s seen them and all.”

“Mmm, right. I don’t know where you’re going with this though.”

“I’m getting there tosser,” Sirius harrumphs, still doesn’t meet his hazel eyes, even if he’s a bit brassed off.

“All right, well don’t let me stop you.”

“Right, well— Hah. You know the Empire Strikes Back,” Sirius asks tentatively.

“Course I do,” Remus nods, faltering just slightly once he pieces it together. “Oh.”

“’S just a thing I’ve thought about since I was like thirteen—“ Sirius explains lamely.

“And you’d— You’d like to see me in that get up?” Remus asks, voice betraying his inhibition.

Sirius has a mild heart attack thinking of Remus— his Remus— in that golden bikini and doing it just for Sirius and Jesus fuck he can’t even breathe. “Yeah— Yes, ahem, I would really like that.”

“All right,” Remus says with a nod and Sirius’s not really sure what he means by that. Whether it’s a thank you for sharing or a you have my permission to think of it or what, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to ask when there’s the sound of something else crashing in the background followed by the muffled curse of a voice that is so painfully Peter that it hurts.

“Right, well let’s see if he’s broken anything, shall we?”

A week goes by.

Sirius never really thinks of the conversation they had, supposes it was merely a passing fancy for Remus to be validated that Sirius has those same heated thoughts about him. (Which of fucking course he does. Remus’s the epitome of what it means to be beautiful. A God damn angel— Of bloody course Sirius is completely lost on him. But hey, it might’ve been just one of those insecurities of his, a hurtle that needed to be past over for them to proceed in their relationship. So yeah, whatever.) Sirius doesn’t think of it again.

Though the refrain from that is thrown out the God forsaken window on a typical Wednesday morning in the office, when Sirius gets the Snapchat notification that quite literally turns his brain into a stew of slush.

There’s a meeting with Benedict Carro who’s asked the firm to build his newest golf club in Devon, and Sirius is just collecting some of the charts and preliminary sketches from his desk for the impending meeting with the old git. So he really doesn’t think much of it when he sees his phone light up with a message from Remus, is expecting it to be a picture of his adorably scrunched up face or of a new addition to his ridiculous collection of candles, or maybe even of the ducks wandering across the hall like they’re occasionally want to do.

What Sirius most certainly does not expect to see is a fucking photograph of two distinct costumes lying on his bed, and the line “Look what came today,” written on the black bar.

“Mother of God,” Sirius thinks that he might be in the midst of an actual fucking seizure, feels his heart palpitating irregularly and his breaths catching and his insides fucking imploding all at once.

He can’t believe that this is a thing that is happening. That Remus went out and bought them just to surprise Sirius with and now he’s teasing him mercilessly because Sirius’s in love with a wicked fucking mastermind. And just, holy fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

“Mr Black, Mr Carro and his associates are here,” Sirius’s newest assistant— Benjy Fenwick, says in a tone that makes it obvious that he’s been trying to get Sirius’s attention for quite a while now and is about fed up. Sirius is really tempted to flip his phone around and show him a photograph of how insanely sexy Remus is, then he’ll surely understand the reason why Sirius’s been dissolved into a puddle of pure longing for the day to be over. But he ultimately reasons that wouldn’t be exactly appropriate, technically being Benjy’s boss and all, even though they’re nearly the same age.

But yeah— not a good look.

So he hurriedly texts back that Remus is the absolute devil incarnate before shutting off his phone and following Benjy into one of the meeting rooms in the back— trying to muster an air of nonchalance even if the image of Remus in that God damn Princess Leia bikini, is permanently scorched into his every thought.

“Sirius spent the rest of that afternoon sending admittedly explicit texts to Remus about all the things he wants to do to him that night, and practically sores back to their building when he leaves work.

Thankfully Remus had taken care of getting the place to their selves that night, so all Sirius has to do now is jump around from foot to foot in his room, beyond jittery in anticipation of Remus finally coming out the closet dressed in Sirius’s greatest fantasy of all time.

“Is the music absolutely necessary?” Remus calls out through the closed door.

“Yes,” Sirius says in a tone that’s about two octaves higher than his usual speaking voice, so beyond flustered. “’S for the ambiance Lupin!”

“Oy, if I had known this was such a thing for you, I would’ve done it earlier,” Remus snorts, walking out in a white bathrobe that gives nothing away as he eyes Sirius in the Han Solo outfit he got— complete with a fake blaster pistol and its holster. “You look so cute.”

“You’re a God,” Sirius tells him in aw, reaching a gentle hand over to run through his dark, tawny curls.

Remus rolls his eyes, but Sirius catches the smirk he’s wrestling down on his lips. “I love you.”

“I know,” Sirius breathes, padding up closer to him and kissing Remus slow and thorough, a tender hand caressing his cheek.

“God save the queen, that reference actually did something for me,” Remus chuckles, but Sirius can’t respond, has permanently lost all ability to function or piece together words once he spots how Remus loosens the knot on his robe and slinks it off to reveal miles and miles of bare skin, only slightly concealed by the golden bikini of his fantasies, even complete with purple little frills that dangle off the hips.

Sirius realizes that he must’ve been gaping by the way Remus waves a hand in front of his face, “Earth to Sirius? Is this not how you pictured it? Did I get the wrong model or—“ Sirius shuts him up with a heated and desperate kiss that leaves them both breathless by the time they separate.

“Remus, please, for the love of God, get on that bed and wait for me to decide what I want to do with you."

With a small grin turning up the corner of his lips, Remus nods eagerly, perching up on the edge of Sirius’s bed and blinking up at him— practically imploring for Sirius to finally just have his wicked way with him already.

Sirius mildly thinks that he doesn’t deserve such a gift, but gets distracted when Remus separates his legs a little further and he can spot the way his dick is poking out the metallic colored panties, throbbing with anticipation.

“Budge up, I want your back against the headboard,” Sirius demands lowly, and Remus is quick to comply.

On his knees, Sirius shuffles up close enough to clamp his hands on Remus’s inner thighs, pulls them further apart as he smacks a hard kiss to Remus’s mouth, slowly moving to nose at the edge of his cheek and ear as he tells him in a very quiet, very deliberate tone to keep his hands above his head. “You’re a good boy, baby, so I won’t tie them, but you’re gonna keep them up there and you’re not gonna move them, okay?”

Remus, already completely flushed, nods vigorously. He prefers staying quiet when they get like this— Sirius would ordinarily prod at him a little to get some words out, but he’s far too distracted right now.

He kisses across Remus’s protruding collarbone, thinks of how swan like and gentle his features are. How Remus’s a work of art and how he wants Sirius more than breathing, how that’s splayed all over his face, especially now. And God, how heady of a thrill.

Sirius kisses down the line of his chest and stomach muscles with slow precision, nuzzles against the material of the bikini before he nearly breaks the left strap trying to get at Remus’s left nipple, teeth grinding and playing with the ball— biting a little harder when Remus whimpers, trying to cant his hips upwards.

Sirius pulls back, pinching his side lightly. “Stay still,” he reproves, excepts it wen Remus quietly apologizes, ducking his head down to the other nipple now, his hands tenderly petting against Remus’s sides as he sucks on it with the same ferocity.

“Sir—Sirius, please,” Remus begs from above him, head tossed back to show off the long trail of his beautiful neck.

“You’ve been teasing me all day, baby,” Sirius tells him in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, beginning to mouth against the light feathering of pale hair that runs down Remus’s torso, leading to his dick.

“I’m sorry,” Remus tells him, bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“Shh, it’s ok, I got you,” Sirius kisses the point right beneath his naval, and he ducks down to what he was trying to get at in the first place

“Turn around,” he tells him, words clipped. “ON all fours.”

Remus looks relieved to finally be able and do something as he tells him “Yes,” and flips over, already rigid with anticipation.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” Sirius tells him, places a hand on the small of Remus’s back for leverage as he kisses the smattering of freckles that dance over Remus’s thighs. God he has such amazing thighs, strong and elegant and Sirius’s favorite thing is when he gets to kiss them like this, to nip at them and hear the little, abrupt inhale that Remus sucks in at the touch. “Stay good for me, okay,” Sirius tells him as he takes his hands and he spreads open Remus’s asscheeks, revealing the little, dark hole Sirius has spent many a night moaning exaltations towards.

Softly, and with hot breaths Sirius pulls to the side the weak material of the thong, peppers kisses all around Remus’s ass before dipping down deeper and lapping a tongue against the tiny, fluttering ring of wrinkled skin.

“Sirius, please,” Remus moans pushing closer to the hot sensation.

“I got you, sweetheart,” Sirius tells him, lips pressed against him as Sirius kisses the entrance adoringly—tongue plunging inside deeper, harder, slower. And he loves this, the sensation of it, of Remus coming undone in his very hands.

Sirius is about to wrap a hand around the length of him, to stroke in tandem with his worshiping with his mouth, but suddenly there little moment of bliss is cut by the sound of insistent and boisterous knocking.

“Ignore it,”

“It could be important,” Remus argues weakly, obviously all levels of regretful as he peers over his shoulder.

“Fuck it, who cares, ’s my flat and they can sod off!”

Remus presses his lips together, looking like he might agree, but then comes a new round of rapping, and Sirius sees the resolve in his face.

“Oh bloody hell! Fine!” Sirius fumes, scrambling up. “But if it’s someone trying to sell me shit, I’ve got the legal obligation to punch them in the face!”

“Of course darling,” Remus smiles at him, and it’s the only thing that gives Sirius enough strength to swagger towards the front and open the door without already being in mid shout. Though, what he doesn’t expect to happen is to find his adoptive mother of all fucking people on the other side.

“Mum?”

“Sirius? Love?” Dr Potter greets, eyeing him worriedly with a tsk, bringing a small, brown hand to his forehead as if to take his temperature and making it so Sirius flinches back. “Why do you look all red, and honey it’s not October yet, what’s with the outfit?”

“Mum!, why are you here!” Sirius asks instead, avoiding the question all together, voice completely strangled.

“Oh, well James called me to check up on the ducks this Friday, but I was in town with an old girlfriend, so I reckoned I’d just pop over, see if you guys needed anything for me to bring you.” She explains blithely, still looking up at him with concern. “Your taking care of yourself, aren’t you dearest? You’re not working too hard?”

Sirius panics, tries to think of a perfectly plausible excuse besides the obvious— So but of course that’s right when Remus decides to shout from the bed. “Sirius who’s at the door?” And no! Jesus no!

“Remus? Lovey?” his mum calls back.

“Oh— Erm. Dr Potter.” Remus has stepped out of his room now, mercifully already back in his robe. “I didn’t know we were expecting you,” he says with a pale color tinting his pillar, like he’s about to be sick.

Okay, yup, Sirius’s erection has died forever now after hearing Remus speaking to Sirius’s bloody mother dressed like that.

Fuck his life.

“Are you boys okay? Did I— Did I interrupt something?”

“Mum! James is just out to dinner with Lily! We’re fine, honest! And erm, we can’t wait to see you Friday night!”

“Oh dearest, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you guys— ah dressed up—“ Dr Potter flushes, but there is definite amusement glittering in her eyes, and that’s right when Sirius slams his hand against his face and retreats back to the bedroom, barely hearing it when she bids farewell to Remus and tells Sirius to call her tomorrow.

“I reckon we won’t be continuing?” Remus asks, a total giggle to his words. Holy fucking shite! Everyone in his life are such pricks!

“I’m jumping off the balcony!” Sirius screams back in response, plunging his head into the pillows and contemplating everything that’s brought him to this point.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist~

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #Marauders #harry potter series #spilt ink #this is trash tbh #plz clown me #I also edited it from an old Firstprince one shot but I'm not writing Friends AU for them anymore #or like never really started lol #so I fixed it #for My OTP #FIC: Friends AU

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alotofteez · 4 years ago

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Ghosted | Chapter 3

Series: ⇢ Pairing: San x fem!Reader ⇢ Genre: Angst, fluff, and a bit of smut ⇢ Trigger Warnings: depression, death, suicide ⇢ Synopsis: An apartment close to campus with a lowered price of rent was something you couldn’t pass up. But little did you know you would have a roommate who won’t leave you alone and breaks things he can’t pay for.

Chapter 3: ⇢ Warnings: language, mentions of medication, creepy/scary bc boo! ⇢ Word Count: 1,788

It has been a few days since you have seen the man. You keep looking over your shoulder as if someone is after you. Every little movement around you freaks you out, paranoia getting the best of you. There’s a small sprout of hope that he was just a hallucination from exhaustion.

The dreams, however, continue, each ending the same way with you desperately trying to save the man in your mind. This has caused you to sleep restlessly to keep yourself from going too unconscious to dream. Coffee is the only thing keeping you awake.

As you unpack a small box of miscellaneous bedroom things, a few orange bottles catch your eye. You pick them up with a sigh, reading over the labels you have seen a million times before. The inevitable reliance on the medication still annoys you, and you toss the bottles in the trashcan next to your desk.

A shower sounds like a calming idea. Throwing a towel and washcloth over the curtain rod, you queue up your favorite playlist on your phone before stepping under the warm spray of water.

You hum along with the song as you mindlessly cleanse yourself. Just before the first chorus of the song, it stops. You’re confused and grab your phone off the back of the toilet. The music app has been closed out. Writing it off as the app crashing, you resume the music. Your shower continues along with the restart of the song… but it stops again around the same part. Frustrated, you relaunch the music app and slam your phone on the toilet, completely over the stupid app.

You sing the lyrics to calm yourself down. As the song goes past the first chorus, you feel relieved. You lose yourself in the song, actually beginning to enjoy it. Right before the last verse ends, the music stops.

“Fuck me,” you burst out of anger, not bothering to mess with your phone again.

But the silence is taunting, you need your mind occupied. Shower thoughts have led to other things before, and right now you feel especially vulnerable. Therefore, you sing to yourself that one love song you really like and know all the words to, even the instrument parts. As you sigh and lean over to scrub down your legs, you’re met with a familiar voice carrying on the song. At that moment, you decide your shower is over and rinse off as quickly as possible.

After throwing on the clothes you sat out on the bathroom counter, you cautiously open the door, steam pouring out into the hall.

“Hello?” You try to sound confident and intimidating, but it comes out weak and shaky.

The usual sounds of the old apartment building are the only things you hear. For a moment, you question your sanity. Maybe your duet partner is just in your mind.

Walking back into your room, drying your hair with your towel, you halt at the sight of the orange bottles lined up on your nightstand.

A crash of glass followed by a “fuck” from the kitchen jolts you back to reality. On the wooden floor is the candle you left burning while you were in the shower.

“I-I’m so sorry. I was just trying to blow it out.” A man stutters behind you, causing you to flinch away. It’s the man again.

The lack of sleep must be taking a major toll on your sanity, enough to make you do stupid things. Adrenaline coursing through your veins wills you to run and tackle him.

“Wait-Wait-Wait!” He warns and puts his arms up in defense… Yet all your force falls through him, you falling to the ground.

“Y/N, I thought you learned with the coffee cup,” he chides playfully.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” You yell with tears in your eyes, ignoring the pain in your wrists from trying to catch yourself as you turn to sit and face him.

He realizes how serious you are, and his smile drops. Something in your mind begs you to ask the burning question planted by Wooyoung.

“Are you dead?”

After a long moment that feels like an eternity, he simply nods.

“Did it hurt?”

“I don’t remember.”

“So… you don’t remember… how?”

He shakes his head.

You try to process what is happening, and the questions keep coming. “Why are you haunting me?”

“I don’t mean to. I don’t know how to leave. I can’t really control when I appear. You’re the first person to see me.”

You regain the strength to stand, still uneasy of whatever is in front of you.

“Who are you?”

“San.”

“… Is that purple marble yours?” You see a spark of recognition in his eyes.

“You have it?” He asks, stepping closer.

“It’s in my room.” You move towards your door behind San who simply goes through it. When you enter, you find him staring at the small shrine you made for him.

“You didn’t have to set this up.”

“I wanted to be respectful.”

He opens his mouth to say something but closes it and returns his gaze to the marble.

“My grandmother gave me that marble when I was little. She told me it would bring me good fortune.”

You remain quiet as he falls back into his memories for a moment. The fact you are being unusually calm in this situation has you questioning yourself, but there is a comfort being in San’s presence that you can’t explain. He seems so familiar, but you don’t know from where.

“This must be the only thing left of mine in this apartment,” he says somberly and slowly reaches out to touch it. Just as his finger brushes it, the light bulb in your bedside lamp pops, causing both of you to jump.

“I don’t think you should try to touch it anymore,” you recommend, and he quietly agrees.

“I need to get to class, so please don’t break anything else while I’m gone.”

He lets out a sigh, eyes glued to the marble, “I can’t make any promises.”

Your thoughts are a scrambled mess, and you can barely focus on the lecture. Once you stepped out of your apartment, it finally hit you that you are haunted by the ghost of the previous tenant. That statement alone sounds insane. Having talked to the ghost sounds even more insane, and at that moment, you determine you should not tell anyone about San. Wooyoung would never step into your apartment again, and Yeosang would seriously worry about your mental health. You can’t let that be a burden on someone else again.

“I will be assigning partners, so don’t get too excited,” the professor announces and glances up from his paper on the podium to give the class an unimpressed glare. You force your mind to pay attention to what is going on inside the lecture hall.

He starts rattling off names in pairs. Your anxiety kicks in as you wait for your name. You don’t know anyone in this class, so this project could absolutely suck if your partner is a slacker.

“Seonghwa and Y/N.”

You raise your hand and search for the other person. A guy with his hand up a few rows down meets your eyes and smiles. The only things you know about him are that he’s quiet and others find him intimidating. No one except his friend will sit next to him. Last week someone made half the row move a seat over so that they didn’t have to sit by him.

“Please move around to sit with your partner, and then I’ll discuss the project in more detail,” the professor says before stepping over to his laptop to bring up a presentation.

Students immediately stand, and your row starts slipping by you, making you awkwardly shift your legs. If they had just waited for you to stand up, this wouldn’t be such a tight squeeze. Before you can see where your partner is, he’s already standing next to you. You open your mouth to greet him, but someone steps on your foot, making you yelp instead.

“Hey, watch where you’re stepping,” Seonghwa addresses the person, his face inches from theirs, and they look like a deer in headlights.

“Sorry,” they meekly apologize and hurry away.

When Seonghwa turns to you, his eyebrows are still furrowed, and you understand why that person ran. But his hard exterior melts away once he makes eye contact with you. He pulls down the seat next to you and relaxes into it.

“I’m Seonghwa.” His smile is back, and you’re completely charmed. He’s even more handsome up close.

“Y/N,” you sound nervous and mentally kick yourself, “Thanks for…”

“Of course,” he says, and just as he opens his mouth again, the professor demands focus back to the screen.

The class feels like it drags on because of how monotoned the professor is and boring the subject matter is. He manages to teach longer than his allotted time, and the professor for the next class impatiently hovers at the front desk. Once the class is freed, Seonghwa waits as you pick up your things and walks out of the building with you. He makes a joke about the professor, apparently having had him before. From what you can tell, this class is going to be hell. After what you dealt with this morning, life is just slapping you with more anxiety. At least for this, you’ll have someone by your side.

“Here,” Seonghwa says, holding out his phone with the keypad open.

You nervously put in your number and save the contact with your name. After handing it back, he quickly sends you a text with his name.

“We should meet up later this week to start some of the research if you’re free.”

“Y-yeah, we should,” You awkwardly agree.

“Alright, I’ll text you later about it. I have to get to another class.”

“Oh, yeah, just, um, you sho- yeah, uh, have a good class,” you stumble over your words, wanting the world to swallow you whole.

He laughs cutely, “Thanks.”

As he walks away, you head in the other direction, your face on fire from your own stupidity. “Have a good class,” you mock yourself under your breath.

You spend the whole trek back to your apartment thinking of how that conversation should have gone. The embarrassment vanishes as you step inside your front door. A pile of glass is on the floor as if someone has swept all the broken pieces up.

“I broke another one,” San sheepishly admits as he appears in the living room pointing at one of the light fixtures.

How in the hell are you supposed to live like this?

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