Whiskers — Kuroo Tetsurou (au).

whiskers — kuroo tetsurou (au).

it’s been a while and i managed to push through with posting a short scenario for this blog. i know i haven’t been active in this blog at all and it will stay that way if there are no requests flying here. i am currently accepting requests for haikyuu and attack on titan (bc i indulged in it for quite a while now). with that aside, happy reading !!

summary : kuroo finds himself in a strange predicament and inevitably bumps into his crush. inspired by ‘a whisker away’.

Kuroo Tetsurou had enough of his life.

Everything was just in shambles the moment his mother screamed at his father, demanding a divorce. And with divorce comes the argument of which parent will take the responsibility of caring for the child. In the end, Kuroo's mother won, making him pack his bags and leave his father behind to live in his mother's house in Tokyo, along with the man that his mother chose to remarry. Living under his mother's care was perfectly fine; she wasn't in the house often because of her work and his mother's new husband tends to be fussing over him any chance he gets, but Kuroo chose to brush all of them with a practiced smile.

In the summer of Kuroo's second year in high school, the dark-haired boy received a message from his father. He was lounging in his makeshift study area in the bottom part of his bunk bed, reading a book that Kenma really enjoyed (it was filled with games though, probably the reason why the first-year liked it so much), when his phone vibrated on top of the coffee table he pushed at the front of his study area. Not having any enthusiasm at the prospect of talking to people, Kuroo sluggishly sat up and opened his phone, displaying his lock screen of the sky and the message from his father. With bored eyes from behind his long fringe, Kuroo tried reading the message without any attachment since it was only once upon a time that he was close with his father.

Father:

Hey, Tetsurou, I'm here right now in Tokyo. The summer festival is still ongoing so why don't we attend the highlights, I have something to talk to you about.

Narrowing his eyes at the glare of his gadget, Kuroo stared pensively at the screen of his phone. Festivals meant reliving those joyous moments he had with his father when he was young; catching goldfishes, buying masks and scaring his mother with the designs of their face accessories, and watching the highlights of the festival, which is the fireworks display. It also meant reliving that time when his father left him intentionally during a crowded summer festival. That event in his life spurred the divorce because as his mother told him, his father is one deadbeat and selfish kind of man. But his father wasn't like that. Kuroo remembered pleading to his mother to forgive the older man but it was all in vain. She still screamed in their dining room to nullify their marriage.

Tetsurou:

OK.

That was it. No residue of the playful nature he always had with his father, as it should be all those years.

Having a few minutes of silence and staring at the bottom of his bunk bed, Kuroo took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. Slowly sitting up, the dark-haired boy crawled out of his cozy hideout and stretched his limbs, because lying down and rolling on the carpeted floor definitely made him stiff. Walking towards his closet while taking off his shirt, Kuroo reached out for the red sleeveless hoodie hanging from behind his volleyball club tracksuit, quickly fitting it on him and choosing to leave his basketball shorts on. With his phone and wallet in hand, the tall lad walked down the stairs and opened the door to the living room and dining area.

Peeking his head inside a small crack of the door, Kuroo lazily scanned the area. "Ah, Hikaru-san," he called out, catching the attention of a tall man with soft brown hair and glasses from behind the counter of their kitchen. He was apparently preparing for dinner, which looked like fried chicken. "I'm going out for a bit. Tell Mom that I could be going home late tonight."

The man named Hikaru gently smiled at Kuroo as he washed his hands. "I heard tonight's the summer festival's highlights," he noted, wiping his hand on one of the clean towels by the refrigerator. "Are you going with your friend, Kenma, is it? Or your classmates, Yaku and Kai."

Kuroo shook his head. "Dad invited me."

He swore he could hear a pin drop from the awkward silence ensuing inside the room. This silence is one that he greatly distastes, and this is coming from a child who succumbed to a bout of silence once he moved to Tokyo. There was no question of how Hikaru wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroo's new father and the competition on who deserves to be a better father to Kuroo is brewing between the two males that became a part of his mother's life. Kuroo could see that Hikaru was doing his best but the messy-haired boy never really viewed him as a family even after years of being married to his mom, his dismissive behavior when it comes to Hikaru is masked with cheery remarks and loud rounds of laughter. And that's what he chose to do right now.

The tall lad laughed once again, trying to ease any tension in the air. "I'm thinking of bringing home a box of takoyaki. Do you want anything, Hikaru-san?"

Hikaru composed himself and sheepishly looked down to continue with his current task. "You don't have to buy me anything, Tetsurou." The brown-haired man glanced at Kuroo with a fatherly air. "Are you joining us for dinner later?"

Kuroo paused for a few moments, pretending to think upon the offer before shaking his head an easygoing smile. "Nope," he lightheartedly answered Hikaru. "I'll be off now!"

When Kuroo's footsteps echoed through the empty household, followed by the sound of the front door closing, Hikaru deeply sighed as he planted both hands on the counter. His dejected frame was noticed by his pet cat, Hanako, who mewled in concern as she approached her owner. Realizing his eyes pooling with unshed tears, Hikaru quickly took his glasses from the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes with his wrist, his forced laughter coming out huskily.

"I'm trying my best, Hanako, but why isn't it enough?"

Summer festivals in Tokyo always bring forth a chorus of laughter and the comfortable mellow lantern lights. There was a subtle beat of the taiko drums in the background, drowned out by the endless chatters of the people choosing to roam around during the highlights of the festivals. The streets of the enormous plaza in their area were arranged to have a line of stalls awaiting for customers, and one of them held a special place in Kuroo's childlike heart ー goldfish scooping. Here he was, crouched down in front of the small tub designated for the goldfishes, his hand poised right above him while his eyes never strayed from that fish who appeared to be brighter than anyone else in the shallow water. Right when he was about to catch the fish, his little net tilted and doubled over the water, scaring away the fishes from any human contact.

"Better luck next time, boy," the stall owner told him reassuringly but the messy-haired boy wasn't reassured at all.

Kuroo stood up brashly from his seated position, surprising the people around the little stall, and walked away with his hands inside the pockets of his sleeveless jacket. There was a hasty apology coming from behind him, along with hurried footsteps of the very person he doesn't want to interact with at the moment. Kuroo continued walking, mumbling apologies to the people he bumped on the way, until a firm grip wrapped around his arm, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" he asked the person desperately trying to catch his attention, the expression on the younger boy was hiding the fact that he was hurting because of this meeting.

"Tetsurou," Kuroo Tatsunari, his father stood in front of him, face so distraught that he nearly broke his practiced façade. "You can live with me instead of your mother, that way everyone will be happy. Please, Tetsurou, I already asked my landlord to have my apartment renovated to have your room."

Kuroo was baffled for a moment and he couldn't help but scoff in disbelief at what his father said. After shaking his head, his golden eyes trailed from the face he was starting to see in the mirror (except for the unruly hair he seemed to claim since he was young) to the hand still gripping tightly on his arm, as if asking for him to never leave the owner's side. He had enough of all of this and all he wanted was to cry his heart out and scream all his hidden thoughts to a barren meadow, but all he could do was place his hand on his father's, gently taking away the grip that kept him rooted on the ground for so many years.

With unrelenting eyes, he muttered darkly, "Have you ever wondered what would make me happy?" before turning away and running to who knows where this late at night.

"Tetsurou!"

He did what he always did best ー running away from his problems.

The young boy did this when he was in the middle of his parents' fights when he was just a little boy and he brought it with him until he was in primary school, where his mother took him under her wing all the way to Tokyo. He nearly ran away when Kenma came into his life, the prospect of having friends and interacting with other children his age so dreadful to the boy that he didn't speak until Kenma asked him what games to play, thus, spurring the two to start volleyball. He nearly ran away when middle school and high school came, the latter made his anxiety rise much higher than the previous point in his life. But this was all erased when many of his high school classmates approached him out of nowhere, clinging onto him and confessing left and right, something that he was not proud of.

The messy-haired boy slowed down his pace to a walk, tears bleeding through his vision and blending in with the drops of rain pattering down on him. "I hate this," he muttered, making measured footsteps on the cobblestones, not noticing that his surroundings seem to transition into a shrine. "I hate the world. I hate myself. I wish I would just end this miserable life right away." Just then, a strong odor of tobacco wafted through his senses, making him perk up in wariness.

In front of him was a huge man dressed in an elaborate yukata, casually smoking on a fancy pipe that Kuroo thought was a relic based on its golden sheen that illuminated under the shrine's overhead lanterns. Feeling skeptical at his current situation, Kuroo slightly took a step back with his eyes still set on the man sitting with a mask stall beside him. His heartbeat picked up its pace because of the nerves starting to churn in his stomach but the dark-haired boy still glanced at the number of masks plastered on the stall and oddly enough, all he could see were cats instead of the variety of animals that were displayed in some of the festival stalls down the hill.

"Welcome," the unnamed man said in a raspy and deep voice, his big, slitted yellow eyes glancing over at Kuroo. "Do you want to try one on? It is said to erase all your worries the moment your face touches the mask."

Erase all your worries?

Kuroo gulped before opening his mouth to speak, "How much is one?"

That offer tempted him and based on the man's appearance, he wasn't a scammer that would run away with his money. There was something from the man's voice that compelled him to try just one mask to see if what he said is true because he definitely needed an escape from reality right about now.

The man chuckled ominously. "No need to pay, young man."

The messy-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Is this because your offer is a hoax?"

At this, the unnamed man's chuckles became a full-on laugh. Laughter of scrutiny thrown at him, making Kuroo squirm in his perch. "There wasn't anything about a hoax in what I said, kid. Here," the man reached out from behind him and picked out a black cat mask, throwing it at Kuroo, who leaned forward to catch the object, "try it on."

Kuroo flipped the mask. The front was so detailed that it almost looked real, the paint on the mask's nose seemed to glint with the wetness of a real cat's and even the whiskers protruded on either side of it. The ears also captured his attention ー there were fur inside each one and it even depicted the real colors on what you can see on a cat. The back wasn't much with its embellished white appearance but when Kuroo slowly lifted the mask to try it on, it snuggly fit the shape of his face, sending chills down his spine. It was like the mask was made for him. But his admiring came to a halt when an invisible wall slammed on him, making him lose his balance.

The next moment was so bizarre to Kuroo. At first, everything was normal to him and the next, all objects loomed over his figure like skyscrapers. But when he blinked at the green color invading his optics, his vision seems to sharpen, even more, zeroing on where the man was previously seated and only finding no sign of the unnamed person. His chest tightened with anxiety, jumping at the slightest of sound picked up by his hearing. With shaky legs, Kuroo walked on the pathway with the sole purpose of going home and just wrapping himself in his duvet, praying that the next day will be much kinder to him. Upon passing by a vending machine right at the base of the shrine, his golden eyes widened when his reflection showed a black cat instead of his tall physique.

What is happening?

"What in the world?" Kuroo voiced out but instead of his usual timber, a series of meows ricocheted through the empty shrine. He jumped two feet in the air in surprise, spooked that even the black cat in the vending machine's reflection showed rod-like fur. After a few moments, he slowly walked towards the reflection, both curious and unnerved at what he just witnessed. "How?"

Placing a paw on the glassy surface, Kuroo roamed his eyes over his new body. He wasn't even surprised that the cat he donned has black fur and a small tuff of hair covering a portion of his right eye. Gradually, the boy's parted lips turned into a large smile as he whooped in the air while jumping around. It was cute in a human's perspective ー a little black cat hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone, his little meows twinkling in the night breeze. In all honesty, Kuroo felt so alive to leave his human life behind and the only thought lingering in his head is how much he wanted to be a cat his whole life ー lazing around and looking for different homes all day, no room for homework and the constant argument of familial connections. For an entire hour, Kuroo marveled at the world from a different perspective as he never stopped swaying happily down the path.

Until a familiar scent hit him ー watermelon.

And true enough, there on one of the benches was [Last Name][Name], who was looking blankly at the park in front of her with a half-finished bottle of banana milk loosely held in her hands. It looked like she came from one of her college prep classes based on what she was wearing — a beige turtleneck sweater and a tawny pencil skirt covered by a trench coat. Her hair was the same hairstyle Kuroo always liked on her, a loose braid running down on one of her shoulders, with her fringe carefully framing her ethereal face. It was no surprise to everyone how much he likes the girl and it shows how he gawked at her with round, golden eyes.

She looked at the side and when her gaze found him, Kuroo visibly jumped in shock again. The girl rose her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the adorable black cat pausing a few feet from her. Kuroo watched [Name] open her backpack and mumbling things under her breath as she searched for something in her bag. Brightening when she finally found what she was looking for, the black cat curiously watched as [Name] waved a pack of biscuits in the air and beckoned him towards her.

"I have some snacks, kitty," she told him, which strangely compelled him to come closer. Who doesn't? The girl he absolutely adores called him 'kitty' with that beautiful smile, of course, he would follow her. When he stopped by her shoes, she then lowered her voice, "Is it alright if I pick you up?"

Kuroo meowed in approval, which [Name] happily took as a good response since she carefully picked him up and placed him on her lap. She then softly ran her fingers on his head, making him purr in contentment. Before nibbling on a biscuit, Kuroo enjoyed the warmth [Name] emitted, looking up at her with his pupils blown wide, which is a sign of his fascination with the girl.

"The night is beautiful ー it's like everything disappeared," she pensively voiced out, her eyes softly staring at the black cat on her lap. "I need more moments like these. People want me to do things that they want, not knowing how much I wanted to be free when I step out in the real world. I mean, I'm going to be eighteen soon and it's a sign that my dad should stop placing shackles that makes me want to cry. I don't even want to be a doctor." She pursed her lips as she paused for a bit as she muttered, "It's so suffocating." The girl then felt paws on her shoulder, making her look up at the adorable black cat, which was a few inches from her face. Then, she felt the tiniest kiss on her cheek, something that elicited a giggle from her. "That tickles."

Raising her hand from her lap, [Name] wrapped them around the cat's body, lifting him a little higher and placing him on her shoulder.

"You smell like lavender," she whispered. "I love it."

Through the night, the boy trapped inside the black cat's body heard his heart pound in his chest, his adoration for the girl blossoming like the fireworks lighting the park.

Tags

haikyuu haikyuu fanfiction kuroo x reader haikyuu kuroo haikyu x reader haikyuu x you haikyuu x y/n i am in love with this movie uwu

kenma as howl

i couldn't take off kenma as howl in my mind so this took me a whole day HASHDJSJS

taglist:

@animoozies

Tags

haikyuu haikyuu kenma kozume kenma howl's moving castle fantasy au nekoma drei draws i'm a sucker for kenma

116 notes View Post

bluejohsai

4 years ago

YOUR OWN RULES AND STORY — KOZUME KENMA.

with the continuous grapple of people's mindsets and the ongoing battle of blaming the victims and not the harassers, i incorporated it through the words of this scenario because as what i have read in the trending hashtags of my country, this toxicity needs to stop.

i have experienced similar things like the one i wrote for this scenario but it involved my school uniform, a crowded bus, and sometimes just walking down the street. please, take time in being brave because what we wear doesn't define us and it isn't in the slightest, an invitation for people to become disgusting pigs.

YOUR OWN RULES AND STORY — KOZUME KENMA.

Having Kozume Kenma as your boyfriend had its perks and downsides.

The downsides definitely pertain to his occasional tendency of becoming aloof, which you had no trouble with handling, seeing as you both started dating when you were in high-school. From the first time you met him, his own choice of being distant towards others intrigued you, one reason for your interest being his captain of the volleyball club. For such a social role in a club, the members chose him to be their ringleader (a thing that he has no say on because his best friend and the previous captain insisted to the coaches to have his ‘promotion’).

You both met when the previous manager of the volleyball club decided to search for someone who would take over her position once she graduates, introducing you to the volleyball club right after knowing you. It was a normal lunch period and you were inside your classroom when one of your classmates asked if you had any participated clubs. Being a carefree student, you still didn’t apply to any clubs and mainly because you were only a first-year. And the next thing you knew, you were whisked away by a pretty upperclassman, who introduced herself as the manager of the volleyball club.

You had no idea what conundrum you just entered.

At first, you carefully asked for the permission of the pretty upperclassman that you wanted to start once your second-year rolls in. You didn’t expect her to nod fervently with a huge and beautiful smile on her face, which made you feel small for some reason.

That afternoon, you also met Kenma, noticing how he wanted to melt into the background, making sure to never meet your eyes.

And when the third-years graduated and bid their goodbyes, Kenma was chosen to be the club’s captain, a notion that he so blatantly rejected yet accepted (albeit reluctantly) and you were now the club’s official new manager. For the first few months, you managed to make him utter more words than he had ever said to another member. You both enjoyed each other’s company and taking the time to actually get to know him; learning about his favorites and deeply understanding him as a person. Kenma also followed Kuroo’s advice on lessening the coldness he carefully wrapped around his heart and by doing so, he started liking you more than he intended to.

Now, both of you are in a relationship that lasted for three years, and the perks in dating him just keep piling up, overpowering the downsides. For instance, Kenma would always take the time in making sure you were truly taken care of; whether it be picking you up from your last class, cooking for you every other day, or having you on his lap while he plays some games with his friends (a feat that he disdainfully expressed, thinking that he wouldn’t see the members of the volleyball club anymore). He would also go out of his way to help you study for some of your subjects or even leave an unexpected kiss on your forehead, cheeks, or neck.

The naked truth, he is an amazing boyfriend.

It was a fair afternoon and Kenma was waiting on one of the benches of the Medical Sciences building, his phone opened to some random game that he downloaded to pass some time.

“Kenma!”

The two-toned boy looked up from his phone and regarded you with a fond look, his eyes softening and lips stretching in a minuscule smile at the sight of you. Three years and here he is, still having butterflies at the reality of you dating him.

“Hey, how’s class?” he asked you, staring down at you while taking your heavy backpack from you and replacing it with his own. This habit initiated when he started walking you home during high school — you exchanging bags since he only carried little things in his backpack, making it weigh like it was nothing. Once you have his backpack on, he noticed the bright stare you gave him, earning a low chuckle from him. Taking your hand tenderly and intertwining them, Kenma started walking. “Excited for our Korean barbeque night?”

You smiled widely at him. “We had another quiz earlier and we have to pass our labs tomorrow so I guess this will be one of those caffeinated nights,” you cheekily replied at him. “But I know that our Korean barbeque night will make up for it.”

Kenma flashed a serene smile. “Want me to help you? I think it’s going to be my free night tonight.”

You looked at him disbelievingly, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not streaming tonight?”

He shrugged, looking down at you with a small half-smile. “Figured that you need some company while you finish your lab.”

The two of you then waked out of campus and into the busy streets of Tokyo, your conversation never ending until the both of you stopped in front of an intersection. Waiting for the signal to cross the street, Kenma took this as a time to play with your hand.

“Hey, Kenma,” you called out, feeling his phone vibrate from your back. “Someone’s calling you.”

Kenma looked at you, released your hand from his hold, and opened the front compartment of his backpack. He softly smiled as you started bouncing subtly as if you were listening to an imaginary beat but his smile quickly vanished when he saw a man inconspicuously standing too close at you, his phone right below your skirt. The golden-eyed boy narrowed his eyes at the suspicious activity but he felt anger boiling when he noticed that the man’s phone screen depicted a front camera, your short cycling shorts in view. Without any rational thought, Kenma slapped the man’s arm, making the older guy’s phone fly from his hand, shocking the people surrounding you.

“Hey!” the man shouted, his eyes blazing as he faced Kenma, who was looking at him with a dangerously blank expression. “What’s your problem, man?!”

The two-toned boy rose an eyebrow. “My problem is that you were taking inappropriate pictures of my girlfriend,” he menacingly stated, nearing the man with pounding footsteps. Now directly in front of the man and even though he was centimeters shorter, Kenma clutched the collar of the man’s shirt in a vice grip. He glared at the man and lowered his voice in a deadly warning, “Delete it.”

You couldn’t pull Kenma out of the way when the man pulled back his arm and punched Kenma hard on the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. “Your girlfriend asked for it! Dressing like a slut in public places—”

Though slightly hazy from the punch, Kenma did something that he probably would never dare if he was younger, thinking it was too much work and would probably give him a bruised knuckle. He mustered all of his force and punched back the man, earning him the sight of a nosebleed. For such an unfit person, Kenma managed to make the man tumble to the sidewalk.

This brewed an unwanted fight on the sidewalks of Tokyo.

Now here you are, waiting for your boyfriend in one of the lobby chairs of the police station. You chewed on your lip as you run your fingers on top of your bag, which was given to you while a police officer ushered Kenma inside to be interrogated. Your mind was muddled with conflicting thoughts, starting with that perverted man who managed to take a photo of your short-covered thighs. Heck, you were wearing one of Kenma’s sweaters tucked in one of your favorite skirts. It was a normal day for you to dress up and now this happened. Your lips curled in disgust at the audacity of the unnamed man to take a picture of you, your gut boiling in anger.

For what felt like hours, the door to your left opened and Kenma strode towards you with a busted lip and bruised cheek, a female police officer following close behind. You stood up and placed your hand gently on Kenma’s face.

“Let’s get you fixed up at home, okay?” you whispered to him, your eyes probably teary at the sight of your boyfriend grimacing.

Kenma covered your left hand with his right one and regarded you with tender eyes dripping of concern. “What about our barbeque night?” He then groaned, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry for ruining the night you’ve been looking forward to all week. I promise I’d make it up to you.”

“No, it’s not your fault, Kenma,” you retaliated, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Come on, I’m going to bake an apple pie once we get home.”

But before you could pull Kenma toward the exit of the police station, the female police pfficer stopped you. “Young lady,” she started, her expression quite troubled yet she painted a faux smile on her lips. “I think you should stop wearing revealing clothes and you should be more careful next time. Don’t wear this kind of provocative skirt when in crowded places—“

“Are your brain cells on the brink of extinction?” Kenma asked in his leveled voice, his eyes cast directly at the police officer.

“Pardon—?”

“This kind of mindset is one the reasons why our world never flourishes,” he sarcastically stated, never leaving your side while shooting his jabs at the police officer. “There will be no harassments if there are no harassers in the first place. So you’re basically implying that people get raped and sexually-harassed because of the way they dress? This is a new year and there are still people who think like that? Stop blaming the victim, then, and do your job right. You just let that perverted man go without a second thought.

“And one more thing,” he breathed, his grip on your hand tightening, “my girlfriend can wear whatever she wants.”

After that, every time you would go to class or just buy something from the mall, you would take time in making sure you never wear shorts or skirts again. Your mind was anticipating all kinds of scenarios just like the one you experienced so you only don jeans and long-sleeved shirts these days and with Kenma’s observing eyes, this didn’t go unnoticed.

One day, already dressed and preparing your breakfast, Kenma sluggishly walked out of your shared room, making a beeline towards you. He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled against your neck, his hair tickling your face, making you giggle at the adorable antics of your boyfriend. Never lifting up his head from you, Kenma only hummed against your neck while placing small kisses here and there every other minute.

“You’re wearing jeans again?” he asked on your neck, his breath making you shiver pleasantly. Bothered by it, Kenma lifted his head from your shoulder and replaced it with his hands, turning you around into facing him, your whines of burning the bacon following afterward. “Hey,” he gently called out to you in his soft-spoken voice, his hands planted on your cheek, “don’t let what that good-for-nothing policewoman and perverted bastard did get to you. I’m not saying that you don’t look good in jeans, I’m only reminding you to wear what you feel like wearing. It’s not your fault, okay?”

A smile slowly replaced the pout on your lips. Standing on your tip-toes to have your face level with Kenma’s, you placed your lips on his in a heartfelt kiss. Kenma didn’t waste a second in closing his eyes and deepening the kiss, your lips in a slow waltz with each other’s. Nipping your lip before pulling away, Kenma never increased your distance with each other as he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if relishing this intimate moment with you.

Kenma called your name softly. “It’s your body so make your own rules and go spend hours in choosing what to wear. I’m only asking you to stay strong and face them without fear. No matter what you wear, know that you’re doing it because of you and never because of them.” He paused to kiss you on the forehead. “I love you and I’m so proud of you.

“So don’t let them define who you are because the [Name] I know is her own story.”

Tags

haikyuu haikyuu fanfiction haikyuu kenma nekoma college au hq kenma kenma x reader kozume x reader a drabble part two hijaako

13 notes View Post

bluejohsai

4 years ago

i was today years old when i found out that ace's last name — trappola — is actually a card game ,,, and it's where the ace card takes the spotlight.

Tags

twisted wonderland twst ace trappola disney twst heartslabyul drei's random thoughts

37 notes View Post

bluejohsai

4 years ago

your kenma fic was really cute :)!!!

aaaaa thank you so much !!! 🥺

0 notes View Post

bluejohsai

4 years ago

why do i have the feeling that kuroo is married to someone in the post-time-skip arc

35 notes View Post

bluejohsai

4 years ago

Shingeki No Kyojin + OPs And EDs ⤷ Shoukei To Shikabane No Michi - Linked Horizon

Shingeki no Kyojin + OPs and EDs ⤷ Shoukei to Shikabane no Michi - Linked Horizon

423 notes View Post

bluejohsai

5 months ago

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency?

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation.

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you.

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound.

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks.

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.”

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent.

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?”

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding.

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?”

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies. Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.”

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.”

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face.

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained.

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him.

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you.

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before.

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform?

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head.

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away.

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

2K notes View Post

bluejohsai

4 years ago

at this point, i'm really convinced that furudate hates nekoma :))

Tags

haikyuu nekoma drei's random thoughts please furudate let them out we are suffering bcos of this

4 notes View Post

End of content

No more pages to load