“What can you tell me about your information broker?”
The eye of the unfortunately familiar bar-man flits between me and the locs; a second worth of consideration. He leans against the counter smoothly, a calloused hand coming down to slide the bribe across the wooden surface and into his apron pocket. He fixes his gaze back onto me with an expression that reveals that this might not be the first time he’s been asked this today. The clench of his jaw confirms we share an aversion for each other as well.
“Skipping the pleasantries, eh?” He asks dryly.
I stuff my coin pouch back into my pocket, “There are no pleasantries to exchange, Zuric.”
He leans back with a sigh. The run-ins I have with Zuric are actually the most unpleasant. I only come into this filthy tavern when it concerns the kingdom. With the given circumstances, rumors spreading about an information broker who’ll sell people secrets of the palace is a pressing issue. We’ve already had three “rebel” groups invade the castlegrounds some way or another – no ways a commoner should know about.
“Yeah,” Zuric taps against his leather eye-patch, while his surviving crimson eye is casted coldly onto me, “maybe you’re right about that.”
Zuric pulls up a glass from under the bar. He takes the stained rag from his apron and begins wiping it down. A cautious look is thrown around the sullied room – the air so stale you can taste the lingering smoke of botched wooden pipes and see debris float in from outside – before Zuric’s voice lowers.
“He doesn’t talk about himself at all. People think he’s an outlander – a Vallandian,” he glances at me intriguingly.
Valland, the kingdom we’ve been at odds with since our late King took the throne. This kind of rumor was something I was expecting, but doesn’t make much sense. The desire to cause inner strife would be a good motive, however no Vallandian could possibly know the ins and outs of our castle.
“Not possible.”
A gravelly hum rasps from his throat.
“Of course you’d think that, Captain. But what if Averos isn’t the solid fortress you think it is?”
That damned half-orc always knows how to get under my skin. I click my tongue and tear my eyes away from his haughty half smirk. It wouldn’t be as insulting coming from someone without such barbaric tusks. I won’t entertain such ideas. Not from him. He’d be in a holding cell right now if not for his past cooperation with the Vex-Guards.
“Enough,” I snapped, a tense pause taking the place of venom I wished to spew, “What else can you tell me about him?”
Zuric put the wiped glass down in front of me before grabbing another. The one within his hand bears a crack that spans its length. He closes his eye briefly while rubbing circles on the worn surface. Always a game of patience with this oaf.
Conversations rouse throughout the tavern, a cacophony of indiscernible words and gritting voices. I hear the dwarf next to me babbling jovially about something or other while slamming his mug of mead against the counter. The frothy liquid splashes onto my trousers.
“He refuses to talk to anyone not part of the resistance. You might be shit out of luck, Bayard.” Bemusement sits on my face. He continues, “He tells people not to believe what the fuckers in the castle have to say about the King’s death – that not everything is what it seems.”
The gleam of his scarlet eye taunts me. What could he possibly know – or assume to know – about what goes on within the palace? He and this damn information broker are pulling shit out of their ass and wiping the walls with it, and the dregs of this tavern are eating it up. They’re turning their kind against us. Makes me absolutely sick.
The disappearance of Prince Leith says it all – he’s guilty as sin. No innocent man runs from something they didn’t do. The Vex Guards saw the aftermath and heard it from Prince Cassemir’s mouth. There’s no reason for doubt.
“He’s a nut. A drunkard.” I spat.
Zuric nods his head, patronizing me.
“I reckon he is. Even so – oh, what is it that people say…” He leans back, scrutinizing the glass he had just cleaned, “a broken clock is right twice a day.”
He places the cup down next to the other one on the counter. His implication is utterly ridiculous. I hate Zuric truly. Despite his reputation, he’s of no help to me ever. He just likes to toy with me, and I’m never in the mood. What more could I expect from a half-orc?
“You constantly waste my time. Nothing short of a con-artist, Zuric.”
The splintered stool scratches against the wood floor as I stand. A couple heads turn in my direction, but all of the others are too busy dribbling down their chins to notice. I hate trips to the Galdwin District. Just disgusting animals everywhere.
Liquid begins filling a glass behind me. I give a glance to the lousy barkeep. He pours what seems to be mead into the other empty cup.
“Don’t believe me, dear Captain? Why not ask him yourself then?” Zuric juts his head in the direction of a dark corner just over my right shoulder.
A lone occupant of the booth sitting beneath a flickering light; the infamous information broker. As I had assumed earlier, he looks to be a drunkard – head hung low, a large brimmed hat and long dark hair shrouding his face, shoulders tossed back against the seat. His silhouette matches that of many here, and yet he sticks out like a sore thumb.
Zuric pushes the full glasses toward me, froth spilling from all sides as it sloshes. I stare at the yellow liquid. He has been setting this up since I walked in.
“You insolent git.”
“It’s easier this way, is it not? You should be thanking me, Bayard. I have gone above and beyond the five locs you’d given me. Make sure you write that in your fuckin’ report.”
I grit my teeth, jaw clenched so hard I’d practically break one. This bastard. His glare pierces me so coldly I would’ve frozen over if it weren’t for my boiling blood. I cannot believe I’m going to be a victim of Zuric’s scheme. Thanking him? Absolutely not.
I have half a mind to walk out, but unfortunately – as much as it pains me to admit this – Zuric has presented me with a lead. I would be doing a disservice to the kingdom if I didn’t follow through with it.
I roughly grab the glasses from the counter.
“What’s this, then? The price?”
“No,” Zuric answers monotonously, “His price is usually silence. The drinks are so you don’t scare him away. Anyone here could guess you’re from the Knolls.”
He motions down to my clothes – strikingly clean, save for the mead stain on my thigh. It’s true, there’s a stark difference between me and these commonfolk. For one, I’m not a criminal.
I feel a snarl in the back of my throat. Zuric turns his back on me before I can spout any remarks, and for the first time ever I have to hold myself back from taking things further. Restraint is a trait the Captain of the noble Vex Guards should have, but it’s so much harder to find when dealing with the likes of him.
One calm breath and I start the small trek towards the kingdom’s most wanted. I can only imagine what kind of man he is – what kind of abilities he bestows to be able to give direction on how to invade a guarded fortress. Most of all, what kind of knowledge he claims to have to sow such distrust among the commoners.
And all too quickly my questions are answered, as I stand face to face with The Information Broker: Prince Leith.
note: this is an original story short story that’s part of a bigger universe i have been working on :D i’m hoping to further develop it soon, and if anyone is interested to know more, please let me know!
AN ORIGINAL WORK BY 1004KR. DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM AND/OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN.
“What can you tell me about your information broker?”
The eye of the unfortunately familiar bar-man flits between me and the locs; a second worth of consideration. He leans against the counter smoothly, a calloused hand coming down to slide the bribe across the wooden surface and into his apron pocket. He fixes his gaze back onto me with an expression that reveals that this might not be the first time he’s been asked this today. The clench of his jaw confirms we share an aversion for each other as well.
“Skipping the pleasantries, eh?” He asks dryly.
I stuff my coin pouch back into my pocket, “There are no pleasantries to exchange, Zuric.”
He leans back with a sigh. The run-ins I have with Zuric are actually the most unpleasant. I only come into this filthy tavern when it concerns the kingdom. With the given circumstances, rumors spreading about an information broker who’ll sell people secrets of the palace is a pressing issue. We’ve already had three “rebel” groups invade the castlegrounds some way or another – no ways a commoner should know about.
“Yeah,” Zuric taps against his leather eye-patch, while his surviving crimson eye is casted coldly onto me, “maybe you’re right about that.”
Zuric pulls up a glass from under the bar. He takes the stained rag from his apron and begins wiping it down. A cautious look is thrown around the sullied room – the air so stale you can taste the lingering smoke of botched wooden pipes and see debris float in from outside – before Zuric’s voice lowers.
“He doesn’t talk about himself at all. People think he’s an outlander – a Vallandian,” he glances at me intriguingly.
Valland, the kingdom we’ve been at odds with since our late King took the throne. This kind of rumor was something I was expecting, but doesn’t make much sense. The desire to cause inner strife would be a good motive, however no Vallandian could possibly know the ins and outs of our castle.
“Not possible.”
A gravelly hum rasps from his throat.
“Of course you’d think that, Captain. But what if Averos isn’t the solid fortress you think it is?”
That damned half-orc always knows how to get under my skin. I click my tongue and tear my eyes away from his haughty half smirk. It wouldn’t be as insulting coming from someone without such barbaric tusks. I won’t entertain such ideas. Not from him. He’d be in a holding cell right now if not for his past cooperation with the Vex-Guards.
“Enough,” I snapped, a tense pause taking the place of venom I wished to spew, “What else can you tell me about him?”
Zuric put the wiped glass down in front of me before grabbing another. The one within his hand bears a crack that spans its length. He closes his eye briefly while rubbing circles on the worn surface. Always a game of patience with this oaf.
Conversations rouse throughout the tavern, a cacophony of indiscernible words and gritting voices. I hear the dwarf next to me babbling jovially about something or other while slamming his mug of mead against the counter. The frothy liquid splashes onto my trousers.
“He refuses to talk to anyone not part of the resistance. You might be shit out of luck, Bayard.” Bemusement sits on my face. He continues, “He tells people not to believe what the fuckers in the castle have to say about the King’s death – that not everything is what it seems.”
The gleam of his scarlet eye taunts me. What could he possibly know – or assume to know – about what goes on within the palace? He and this damn information broker are pulling shit out of their ass and wiping the walls with it, and the dregs of this tavern are eating it up. They’re turning their kind against us. Makes me absolutely sick.
The disappearance of Prince Leith says it all – he’s guilty as sin. No innocent man runs from something they didn’t do. The Vex Guards saw the aftermath and heard it from Prince Cassemir’s mouth. There’s no reason for doubt.
“He’s a nut. A drunkard.” I spat.
Zuric nods his head, patronizing me.
“I reckon he is. Even so – oh, what is it that people say…” He leans back, scrutinizing the glass he had just cleaned, “a broken clock is right twice a day.”
He places the cup down next to the other one on the counter. His implication is utterly ridiculous. I hate Zuric truly. Despite his reputation, he’s of no help to me ever. He just likes to toy with me, and I’m never in the mood. What more could I expect from a half-orc?
“You constantly waste my time. Nothing short of a con-artist, Zuric.”
The splintered stool scratches against the wood floor as I stand. A couple heads turn in my direction, but all of the others are too busy dribbling down their chins to notice. I hate trips to the Galdwin District. Just disgusting animals everywhere.
Liquid begins filling a glass behind me. I give a glance to the lousy barkeep. He pours what seems to be mead into the other empty cup.
“Don’t believe me, dear Captain? Why not ask him yourself then?” Zuric juts his head in the direction of a dark corner just over my right shoulder.
A lone occupant of the booth sitting beneath a flickering light; the infamous information broker. As I had assumed earlier, he looks to be a drunkard – head hung low, a large brimmed hat and long dark hair shrouding his face, shoulders tossed back against the seat. His silhouette matches that of many here, and yet he sticks out like a sore thumb.
Zuric pushes the full glasses toward me, froth spilling from all sides as it sloshes. I stare at the yellow liquid. He has been setting this up since I walked in.
“You insolent git.”
“It’s easier this way, is it not? You should be thanking me, Bayard. I have gone above and beyond the five locs you’d given me. Make sure you write that in your fuckin’ report.”
I grit my teeth, jaw clenched so hard I’d practically break one. This bastard. His glare pierces me so coldly I would’ve frozen over if it weren’t for my boiling blood. I cannot believe I’m going to be a victim of Zuric’s scheme. Thanking him? Absolutely not.
I have half a mind to walk out, but unfortunately – as much as it pains me to admit this – Zuric has presented me with a lead. I would be doing a disservice to the kingdom if I didn’t follow through with it.
I roughly grab the glasses from the counter.
“What’s this, then? The price?”
“No,” Zuric answers monotonously, “His price is usually silence. The drinks are so you don’t scare him away. Anyone here could guess you’re from the Knolls.”
He motions down to my clothes – strikingly clean, save for the mead stain on my thigh. It’s true, there’s a stark difference between me and these commonfolk. For one, I’m not a criminal.
I feel a snarl in the back of my throat. Zuric turns his back on me before I can spout any remarks, and for the first time ever I have to hold myself back from taking things further. Restraint is a trait the Captain of the noble Vex Guards should have, but it’s so much harder to find when dealing with the likes of him.
One calm breath and I start the small trek towards the kingdom’s most wanted. I can only imagine what kind of man he is – what kind of abilities he bestows to be able to give direction on how to invade a guarded fortress. Most of all, what kind of knowledge he claims to have to sow such distrust among the commoners.
And all too quickly my questions are answered, as I stand face to face with The Information Broker: Prince Leith.
note: this is an original short story that’s part of a bigger universe i have been working on :D i’m hoping to further develop it soon, and if anyone is interested to know more, please let me know!
AN ORIGINAL WORK BY 1004KR. DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM AND/OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN.
⟢ 1.5k wc, tooth-rotting fluff, probably ooc, implied fem reader, fic // After a night of drinking, Zora takes it upon himself to take care of you.
Zora had no idea who’s bright idea it was to give you that much liquor. His first guess was Vanessa. But as he passed by a very much blacked out Magna, he was able to put the pieces together.
A Black Bulls celebration of any kind — most notably though, a birthday celebration — always led to heavy drinking.
Happy birthday, Magna. Enjoy your hangover.
Though that didn’t matter much, really. Not to Zora. No, what brought him back out of his room after hearing the festivities had quieted down, was your missing body that was usually pressed to his in bed at this time. An hour of silence had passed before Zora felt like he needed to find you.
With your luck — and his — you had probably gotten lost in the ever changing layout of the Black Bulls base. Or you could’ve happened to run into Henry and decided to have a chat with him, leaving you passed out for a different reason. The possibility he was hoping for was that you simply fell asleep on your barstool.
The moon smiled upon Zora. There you were in all of your glory — face smushed against the counter, arms laid haphazardly around your head, snoozing away next to an empty bottle.
Even still, Magna seemed in worse shape than you. Though, you wouldn’t be much better off. Zora sighed. Perhaps that’s best left as tomorrow’s problem; for now, he was just content that you seemed fine.
Zora placed a hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his palm seemed to stir you a bit, though your eyes remained closed.
“Oi,” Zora lightly shook you, “get up.”
You groaned. The furrow in your brow deepened with another shake.
“No, I just wan’ sleep…” You turned your head away from him.
Familiar hands pulled your shoulders back, forcing you to sit up. Your head lulled.
“Idiot. If you sleep like that, your back’s gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.” Zora pulled you up from your armpits. Loose limbs struggled to hold themselves upright, but with Zora’s support you had managed. He walked you slowly around the stool, cautiously guiding clumsy feet that seemed to drag easily against the stone floor. “And guess who you’ll come crying to?”
It was like teaching a toddler how to walk. Shoes caught on crooked cracks slowed Zora’s normally long strides — the ones that you’d complain about having to run to catch up with. They were not suitable for you when you were sober, and they sure as hell weren’t helping now that you were tripping over the mess of his feet and your own.
“I don’ cry. That’s you,” A hiccup. “Zora.”
Zora snickered, “Yeah, yeah.”
The walk — if you can call it that — down the main corridor felt never-ending. Something that took him a minute to pass through somehow ended up taking 7. Long arms remained hooked under yours, back pressed to a naked torso, and head rested against his chest. One step from him, a scraped step from you. It would’ve probably been faster if you balanced on his feet and he traversed that way. Though, Zora knew that journey was nothing compared to the stairs that stood ahead of you both.
Why did Henry have to give you stairs to your room tonight? Zora let out a small growl.
Careful arms released their hold, like trying to balance a coin vertically on a tabletop. He crouched down in front of you. A glance thrown back at your lightly swaying form.
“C’mon, get on.”
With no arguments, two hands wrapped around his neck. Arms looped under your knees and you both rose from the ground. First step taken. The hot breath that danced across his cheek smelled faintly of the wine you had downed in the time Zora had retired to his room.
Zora had to admit, though, that he liked how red looked on you — not in the form of wine stains on white shirts, but cheeks dusted in intoxicating shades. That one he’d keep to himself. He could practically hear a raspy comment from Yami about stoic Zora being a lover boy deep down. Not to mention the annoying reactions from the other idiots.
It wasn’t hard to figure out. He didn’t keep it secret, he just never talked about it. Or showed it publicly. And yet, most of the members took notice of his closeness with you — or rather, your closeness with him — and came to the somewhat wrong conclusion. Stupid ones like Asta and Magna teased you for having a big ole crush on Zora. Smart ones like Noelle and Vanessa hit them upside the head and corrected them. Zora didn’t care either way.
Well, he did and he didn’t.
“You’re so nice to me, Zor’.”
The words slid out in slippery succession. Zora’s lips curved up halfway. He stole a glance at your squished cheek against his shoulder.
“Don’t drool on me, stinkbug.”
A pout perched on plumped cheeks. You turned your head the other way, “I do not drool.”
The last step underneath his boots. His smile spread, mask molding to match. He turned right, heading towards two doors in particular.
“Tell that to your pillow.”
Long strides were taken down the new corridor, passing rooms that he knew belonged to his fellow magic knights. Room order did not typically change when Henry reorganized the hideout. Zora felt lucky for that; your room was always in between Asta and Charmy. Tonight, however, there was the added bonus of the washroom being within the same hall. It sat just a little ways past your door.
Zora didn’t usually go into the women’s washroom. Believe it or not, he was a gentleman. Tonight, though, it was unavoidable. It was late enough in the night that he knew — hoped — there wouldn’t be anyone in there.
The familiar feeling of lingering steam had your arms wrapping tighter around Zora’s neck, “No, Zor’… I don’ wan’ a bath. I wanna go to bed.”
He clicked his tongue. In one swift motion, he sat you down on the counter and placed one hand on either side of your thighs. His stance made you just about level with him.
“Stop being a baby. You’re not getting a bath,” Zora sighed, azure irises watching yours take slow blinks at him. “I’m just gonna clean your face. You’d kill me in the morning if I let you sleep in your makeup.”
Hazy eyes flitted away from him, jumping around the room before making their way up to the ceiling. Your head rested against the mirror on the wall. A dry gulp ran down your throat.
“The room is spinning,” You admitted.
Zora stepped back, placing his hands on his hips, “I bet.”
The steam — though not as heavy as when the bath was in use — was definitely not helping. He reckoned he would have a short amount of time before you’d vomit if you stayed in here for too much longer.
You showed no signs of moving — save for one hard blink. Zora had to make this quick.
“Oi, I need you to sit up."
A gentle tug on your hand was enough to lean you forward. Zora took a clean towel from the neatly folded pile on the counter and wet it. A cold swipe across your left eye coaxed your right one closed. His ministrations were careful and unpracticed. He's taken off his own eyeliner, sure, but it was different doing it for someone else.
The cool rag and his thoughtful touch had your head falling forward. He was quick to catch it, lifting your chin and continuing his circles on your eyelid.
Clean skin glistened under his fingertips. Zora pulled back just enough to inspect the area, and when he was satisfied, he moved onto the other side. One bleary eye scanned the upper half of his face — the part not covered by his mask. He tried ignoring it.
Your eyes crinkled in the corners.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
Oh god.
He didn't think you were at the stage of love declarations yet. You've only been drunk around him a couple of times, and in every instance, you had started these proclamations at random times — more often than not when you two were alone in your room.
"An unwise choice," Zora joked, though he wasn't in the company of someone who would find that very funny. Especially not in this state.
Your mouth fell open. Crinkled eyes were replaced by furrowed brows.
"You're so mean! Don' say that, Zora." Your lips pushed into a pout. "I can tell you so many reasons why that's wrong."
The assurance in your tone tugged the corners of his mouth up. With the shake of his head and a small laugh, Zora finished wiping down your right eyelid.
Lips became moist with the swipe of the damp towel.
They were all wrong. No matter what conclusion the others came to, they were wrong. It wasn't you with the giant crush — the bigger feelings in this relationship. It was Zora.
Hidden behind his cool exterior was a lover boy. Someone who didn't express themselves easily but knew exactly how they felt. Unspoken words within little actions. Sacred love confessions that pool in the tides of ocean eyes.
I love you's that dab at the corners of your mouth and trace the curve of your cupid's bow.
And as long as you knew that — tasted it in each kiss and felt it in each breath, that was all that mattered to Zora.
note: this is my first time writing for black clover yippee!! sorry i turned such a mundane task into 1.5k words 😭 i’m pretty sure i got zora’s characterization wrong as well but fuck it we ball
# professional e-sports player!wind breaker x reader
⟢ fluff, angst, multi-chaptered fic // You might have your sights set on a certain League of Legends pro player, but so does his ex! When she joins team KEEL in an attempt to get close to Umemiya again and prove her worth over you, you are suddenly in for the season of a lifetime. All about rivalry, love, and angst! Can you win Umemiya’s heart before she can?
CHAPTER 02. < m.list | gamer select >
Steam rose in wisps, intertwining with the rays of sun that drew in from the exposed parts of the floor-to-ceiling window. Four bowls of rice sat next to their respective matching plates, all of which had fried eggs, potatoes, and enough room for two slices of bacon. The bacon at that moment resided in the greased pan, sizzling with an occasional ‘pop’.
You stood over the stove with a metal spatula in hand. The first batch of bacon you cooked had unfortunately burned, due to your eyes demanding a restful break until alerted by the smell of charred pork. But no one would ever know of the mistake. Not unless they dug through the trash, or took too deep of a sniff.
To fully blame yourself, though, would be unfair, seeing as you were trying to do something nice for the men you had left waiting the night prior. It was about five in the morning when your alarm first sounded. As dawn had been near broken, you managed to pull yourself out of bed to shower and prepare a breakfast feast. They wouldn’t let you foot the bill last night, so really it was the least you could do.
But it was alright! Two glasses of iced coffee, as well as the playlist that hummed through the air, eased the exhaustion from your body – the rejuvenation of a morning glory embracing the sun with open petals.
Two bacon slices slid carefully off the spatula onto each plate. A relieved sigh left your lips as you swiped a hand across your forehead. You had expected to wait for them to wake up – or as a last resort, wake up Kiryu and have him drag them all out of bed – but the creak of a door surprised you.
Atop the stairs was Suo, already in his Bofurin windbreaker. His mouth opened slightly and head tilted at the sight before him. Slippers tapped against the wooden steps as he descended into the kitchen.
“My, my, what a spread you have here,” Suo commented, lips curved into something sweet, “Must’ve gotten up quite early to do this.”
“Not much earlier than usual.”
A total lie.
He hummed, taking a seat at the table. He didn’t make any motion to grab a utensil, just sat with his hands in his lap. His poised posture contrasted your own.
“Then I can expect this every morning?” He asked with a mischievous lilt.
You took a nervous sip of your drink, “P-Probably not. This was more of an apology for last night.”
“Ah.” He nodded with a teasing smile.
Your fingers tapped an unnamed rhythm against the marble countertop. Silence hung in the air for a couple seconds, with you observing Suo and him seeming to analyze the contents of the dish.
“You like tea, right?” You asked, already stepping towards the kettle, “I’ll make you some real quick.”
He didn’t protest – though he tried, he wasn’t really given a chance to. You had sworn you saw a variety of tea packs in one of the cabinets this morning. Only, they weren’t tea packs. They were tea leaves. And you’ve never steeped tea leaves before.
A peek over your shoulder revealed his closed-eyed smile. Nervous laughter bubbled from your throat and faltered as quickly as it appeared. Suo chuckled.
“It’s best not to let her near your stuff, Suo. Unless you want it miraculously burnt like the bacon.” Kiryu yawned.
Another set of slippers slowly pattered down the stairs as Kiryu stretched his arms above his head. The muscles in your back stiffened like a startled cat. Of course he noticed, after everything you did to cover it up.
“Ha-ha, Mitsuki. You know what’s funnier than that?” You said dryly, picking up an extra plate you made especially for your best friend, “No pancakes for you.”
“C’mon, Y/N,” He half whined, coming to stand in front of you, “You know I was joking. Everything looks delicious.”
“Thank you.” You nodded, satisfied with his comment.
You nudged the dish toward him, which he accepted with grateful hands. He practically pranced to his seat, picking up a fork and knife to tear apart the stack. A glance was thrown at Suo as he cut.
“Hm? I thought you were on a diet, Suo.”
“I am.”
Your face dropped. Guilt swam in an aggressive whirlpool within your chest as apologies made a home between your lips. That’s why he wasn’t touching it earlier.
Your hands reached for the dishes set in front of him, eager to take them away.
“I’m sorry, Miss Newbie.”
“No! Don’t be sorry, I should’ve been more considerate.”
But then again, how were you to know he was on a diet? It’s not like Kiryu ever mentioned it.
Kiryu dismissed your comment, lips curling comfortingly, “Don’t worry! Sakura can have two breakfasts.”
“Hah? What about me?”
Sakura and Nirei appeared out of the corner of your vision, walking down the stairs. Upon approaching the table, both of their inquisitive gazes were blown wide by the display on the table. Nirei beamed, pulling out his notebook from his jacket pocket, while Sakura took a seat in front of the double portion.
“Wow, Y/N! This looks amazing! You didn't mention being a cook last night!” Nirei exclaimed.
He quickly jotted something down in the book before settling down in the spot next to Sakura. You weren’t really, but you were glad it made him happy. You had cooked for Kiryu a couple times in the past, but those were simple things with box instructions.
The wheeze of the kettle made you jump. Before you could even turn around to tend to it, though, Suo was there taking it off the burner. You didn’t even notice him stand up…
“Thank you for starting this for me,” Suo spoke, his kind tone complementing the expression he wore, “I’ll take care of it.”
You nodded appreciatively.
“Sakura,” Kiryu hummed, “You got a bonus portion for being such a great IGL.”
The man’s stuffed cheeks reddened, a muttered ‘shut up’ casted Kiryu’s way. A smile formed on your face, seeing the guys bicker back and forth while enjoying the meals you prepared. A new feeling sprouted in your chest; the kind of lightness that you’d experience on rolling hills in the middle of spring.
Suddenly, Kiryu turned to you.
“Shouldn’t you get changed? We have to leave in twenty minutes.”
You forgot you were still in your loungewear. A quiet gasp left your lips and you nodded. Hurried steps were taken up the stairs as you mentally thanked him for the reminder.
.
It was only a ten minute ride from the dorms to the Furin Academy. The view of the illuminated sign overhead left you speechless when you exited the van.
Furin Academy & E-sports.
Just seeing the grand building had you buzzing. Being a professional e-sports player was something you had set your sights on after watching your first game. Once you had heard Kiryu was signed onto a team, you were happy but also quite envious of him. You had worked your ass off from that moment, truly doing all that you could to become a notable player in Overwatch’s top 500. Finally, it was all coming together.
Kiryu walked in front of you with a bag hanging from his shoulder. A fond smile formed the longer you stared at that mop of pink hair. You remembered bouncing around him when he first extended the invitation.
“You’re gonna be the only woman in our entire organization, though. You sure you’re okay with that?”
Back then, it really didn’t matter to you.
As you passed the herd of boys and men heading to their respective practice rooms, you found that you still agreed with that. You were all here with the same purpose: to win. So what if you weren’t a man? You’d still run circles around half the guys here.
The last door on the right was where you all came to a stop. The plaque next to the door really cemented in your mind that this was all real. Excitement fizzled in your stomach like a shaken soda-pop.
Sakura pushed the door open with one hand, holding his bag in the other. The rest of you filed into the room behind him, with Nirei being the one to shut the door. The first thing you noticed were the six computer set-ups; they all consisted of what you recognized to be the newest products released by Razer – all except for keyboards and mice. Those items they requested each member to bring with them. The desks that housed these monitors and towers sat three-by-three across from each other.
The next thing, or should you say people, who caught your eye were the two men lounging at their own respective desks in the corner. One seemed to be in his thirties, while the other might’ve been a couple years older than you. With the jackets they sported, it was likely they were the coaches.
Sakura, Kiryu, and Nirei began unloading their bags on the desks on the right side. Suo, however, gestured for you to follow him with the wave of his hand.
“This way, Ms. Newbie.”
You took a seat next to Suo, placing your bag in the other empty chair. The zipper slid open fluidly to reveal your custom built keyboard, mouse, and mousepad. You made quick work of plugging them both in and placing the pad in a position that allowed for least resistance. Before turning on the monitor, a figure behind you reflected on the screen.
“That’s a nice set up you got there, Alatus,” the man said.
You jumped at the sound. If your head whipped around any faster, it might’ve spun off your neck.
“Kanji, you really need to work on not sneaking up on people.” Suo shook his head.
Kanji gave you an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and holding the other one up defensively.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”
You shook your head, “It’s alright.”
It was slightly concerning that his footsteps were so light, though.
“You ready for this first game?” He asked.
Excitement danced across his features. Your lips curved up, as if affected by it. You gave him a curt nod, causing a jovial laugh to bellow from his chest.
“Great! There’s nothing riding on this, Suzuri and I just want to see your skill,” He raised his gaze to the rest of the men, “The boys are ready, just waiting on you guys to log on.”
A variety of acknowledgements were thrown out as Kanji went to the other side of the room. You pressed the power button on the PC that sat underneath the desk and watched as it booted up. The headphones that rested on their holder were thrown over your ears. You glanced at Suo, who had already joined the party with the others.
“Who are we playing against?”
“The advanced class here. If we were to be called the A-team, you could consider them our B-team,” he answered.
Interesting. You wondered how good they must be to be considered second to a professional team.
After logging in, an invitation to a custom game slid into view. Both teams lined the screen, with the two spectators being who you assumed to be one coach for each. Nepal was the map picked, which gave you a few options for support heroes to pick. A quiet voice spoke through the speakers of your headphones.
“Alright, we’re gonna start now.”
The Nepal map cover flashed on your screen. You closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths, opening them again at the voice prompt for hero bans.
“Alright, I.G.L.,” Suo called out, “It’s your pick.”
The timer clicked down. Thirty seconds became twenty before Sakura spoke up.
“Nepal is close quarters no matter the map. Ban Symmetra.”
“Roger that, Cap’,” Kiryu hummed.
A unanimous Symmetra ban appeared on screen, as well as a ban of Ana. Suo chuckled besides you. It was bound to happen. As you had heard, Suo was the most fearsome Ana player in the Academy.
“Aw, what a shame,” he feigned disappointment.
You watched as Sakura, Kiryu, and Nirei all locked in their heroes. Sakura chose Wrecking Ball, Kiryu with Sombra, and Nirei had Echo. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kanji come to stand behind you and Suo with a clipboard in hand.
“We’re going dive first, so Suo, I want you on Lucio, and recruit, I want you on Kiriko. Sound good?”
He gave you a knowing look. Who were you to disagree, you were a Kiriko main after all.
“No objections here.” Suo responded while you shook your head.
“Great, then I’ll let you guys do your thing. But, I want to see you both at least try to match your damage with your healing. If I’m seeing three thousand damage, I want to see you have three thousand heals as well, got it?”
You wordlessly agreed and turned back to the screen to lock in Kiriko. Kanji, satisfied with your answers, stood straight up and sauntered back to his desk.
The mouse underneath your hand glided across the mousepad in three solid rotations, your fingers tapping on the buttons afterwards. The game loaded into the lobby, where Lucio skated in front of your face. You snorted at the skin he equipped for his character.
“Think you can keep up with me?” Suo teased.
“With your speed boost, yes. Outside of that…,” you pretended to be deep in thought, “Absolutely.”
His eye crinkled.
“Good. Care to wager, friends?”
You furrowed your brow, glancing up at the men across from you. Sakura and Nirei wore similar expressions, whereas Kiryu looked amused.
“‘Ho? What’s this about?” Kiryu asked.
The look on Suo’s face was anything but innocent. It intrigued you, honestly.
“Just for morale’s sake,” he responded, “Whoever gets the lowest damage has to grab snacks for the rest of us. Sound fair?”
A smirk formed on your face. The conditions seemed to gain the interest of the others as well.
“You’re on, Eye-Patch-kun.” You stretched your arms above your head.
The doors to the lobby opened, signaling the beginning of your match. Considering the calibre of Furin, you had a feeling your opponent was going to give you a run for your money. Though, instead of feeling nervous, you were more elated. The coaches were nice enough to let you play your character, and the banter amongst you all helped to ease any negativity previously in your system. Plus, there were free snacks on the line.
There was no harm in a bit of friendly competition, right?
.
Wrong. Your eye twitched as you viewed the post-match stats.
You were beaten by a mere one hundred points. Nirei sat above you with seven thousand five hundred damage, whereas yours showed seven thousand four hundred. The others finished the game with at least a thousand more points than Nirei. Throughout the game, you kept your healing even with your damage, but the green-eyed monster in the back of your mind rasped that you should’ve done more.
The game might’ve ended in victory, but the loss of the wager tasted bitter in your mouth. It was a shot at your pride that you’d do anything to avoid next time.
“That was close,” Nirei sighed.
Not close enough.
Suo turned to you, taking off his headphones, “I must say, Kiryu was right. You’re pretty good.”
“Thanks. It looks like you’re more than just an Ana one-trick, huh?”
“Am I?” He feigned contemplation, “I just play whoever I’m told to.”
He was a mysterious guy, truly. You wondered what else he had up his sleeve.
Kanji stood with a beaming smile. He moved around his and Suzuri’s desks to stand in front of you all.
“Nicely done, guys. You really put on a good show,” he praised, eyes then moving to you, “Especially our newest recruit. You did exactly as I asked, and you excelled at it.”
Your cracked pride gained a piece back.
A whiteboard was moved to the center of the room by Suzuri. The notebook he held in one hand was flipped open as he grabbed a dry erase pen.
Kanji continued, “There are a couple things Suzuri and I want to go over, but let’s touch on that after a small break.”
The men wasted no time in moving from their seats. Kiryu moved to a beanbag in the corner of the room by the door and began typing away on his phone. He called for Sakura, Nirei, and Suo to join him while you straightened up in your chair. A bathroom break sounded lovely to you, as the three iced coffees you had that morning had caught up to you.
You briskly walked to the door and pulled it open. Your pace was halted, however, by the sight of a man leaning against the wall just a couple feet away. He bounced off of it at the sound of the door opening, and the gaze that fell on you had your heart leaping into your throat.
“Oh, just the person I was looking for!” He exclaimed.
Your mouth fell open and closed, like a fish out of water. It was Inari. You’d recognize his stark white hair anywhere – or his azure irises. You stared at them in the poster hanging above your bed long enough to map the golden flecks within them.
Footsteps behind you grabbed your attention, a hand placed on the doorway next to you.
“I sent you the list – oh, hey Umemiya.” Kiryu spoke nonchalantly.
Your stiff neck creaked as you turned to Kiryu and whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me Umemiya was Inari?!”
He stared back at you with mirth hidden in his eyes, “I did.”
Suddenly, you remembered the day prior when he referred to Umemiya as your man crush. That was not a good hint at all.
“Anyway,” Kiryu cleared his throat and straightened from his hunched form, “I sent you the list of things to buy. Have fun, don’t get lost.”
Just like that, he was gone. You blinked, trying to control your breathing. He was just a normal dude, it didn’t matter that he was a professional e-sports player you looked up to – you were one then, too.
You spun on your heel, coming face to face with Umemiya again. He tried to look inconspicuous, though, you were sure he had heard everything that was said. Heat spread across your face.
“I’m sorry about that,” You started, “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes!” He smiled, pulling something out from behind his back, “I was supposed to give these to you yesterday, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
In his hands were a jersey and windbreaker jacket wrapped in plastic. The dark green of the uniform jersey complemented his skin complexion well. You tried to steady your hands as you took them into your palms.
“This makes it feel more official, huh?” He joked.
You nodded, examining both items carefully. The crinkle of your eyes had Umemiya’s softening.
“Thank you, Umemiya,” You said, pulling them a bit closer to your chest.
“Of course,” He grinned, “Welcome to Furin Academy! Now, if I heard correctly, you have things to pick up?”
You confirmed with another nod of your head, unsure where he was going with it. He lowered himself to your level, expression turning sheepish. He was so much closer, causing your body to stiffen up once again.
# professional e-sports player!wind breaker x reader
⟢ fluff, angst, multi-chaptered fic // You might have your sights set on a certain League of Legends pro player, but so does his ex! When she joins team KEEL in an attempt to get close to Umemiya again and prove her worth over you, you are suddenly in for the season of a lifetime. All about rivalry, love, and angst! Can you win Umemiya’s heart before she can?
CHAPTER O1. < m.list | gamer select >
With the last box placed next to the plainly sheeted bed, you sat down on it with a sigh. Moving was never an easy feat, but it didn’t feel like you had reached the hardest part of this just yet.
Your new room was all too messy. Yes, the walls and basic furniture given to you remained clean, not yet broken in, but the floor was cluttered from door to window. Not a square inch of the hardwood could be seen. Maybe you brought too much with you from home…
A knock rapped on the door. Your head tilted at the sound; didn’t the assistant who brought you here say everyone was at practice?
“Yo, Ms Newbie,” a soft voice said beyond the door, “You in there?”
You chuckled at the nickname, and tip-toed onto any ground that could be safely stepped on. The door opened with a turn of the knob, your friend’s lazy smile greeting you.
“Mitsuki, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You teased.
Kiryu leaned against the doorframe, peering behind you. You moved in front of him to block his gaze.
“Nice room,” He mused, “Mind if I come in?”
You snorted.
“If you can find an open space, be my guest.”
You ushered him in with faked elegance before hopping on the spots you used previously. He looked around at the boxes, realizing that you were not entirely joking about the lack of room. A careful step to the left, then right, then in one swift motion he flopped onto the bed. The impact made you bounce in place.
“Your old room was worse.”
If you had a pillow you would’ve hit him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing?” You asked.
Buttons clicked beside you and you rolled your eyes. Part of you hoped he had came here to help you unpack, but it seemed that had been just wishful thinking. He tapped away at his switch with a hum of agreement.
“Got sent back early to help you settle in.”
You pushed him lightly, “Then why are you playing Tears of the Kingdom instead of helping me unpack?”
Your gesture had no effect on him. You watched as he masterfully dodged an attack.
“I will, I will. Just gotta beat this boss first.”
“You’re the worst.”
You shook your head and opened the first box in front of you, hearing a small ‘yeah, yeah’ in response to your comment. In the cardboard confines sat all of your desk trinkets, as well as a couple picture frames. The pictures consisted of your family, friends, and a special small one of you and Kiryu as children.
The desk supplied to you sat in the corner of the room, nearly covered by a transparent white drape. It was a nice birch gaming desk with a lot of storage space for your PC and whatever else you saw fit to put there. Like everything else the dorm was furnished with, it looked to be worth top dollar. Surely worth more than you’ve ever made at a part-time job.
Boxes were pushed to the side to forge a path to the first thing you’d decorate. Your desk chair had to wait, seeing as it was placed next to your door in the hallway. One at a time, you plucked and picked out spots for special items. The small frame of you and Kiryu earned a place on the shelf next to where your monitor would go. Your golden pig sat just underneath it. Then, the Zorua Funko Pop you got for your birthday next to him. As you continued digging through your box, Kiryu spoke from where he laid snugly.
“Oh, before I forget, Umemiya said he wanted to see you.”
“Who?” You asked indifferently.
“Your man crush.”
You scoffed. Who the actual hell is he talking about? Must be one of his jokes again.
You hummed in feigned amusement, “And what does this ‘Umemiya’ want with me?”
“Dunno.”
Go figure. Kiryu always had the most reliable answers for you.
You heard Kiryu shift on the bed and turned in time to see him stand. He slid open a flap of the first box he saw and smirked. You quirked a brow. His hand emerged from the box with a poster wrapped in it.
“Is this what I think it is?”
Puzzled, you respond cautiously, “If you’re referring to my Keshi tour poster, then yes.”
He chuckled with a shake of his head. Maneuvering around the myriad boxes, Kiryu took to the wall closest to your door and unraveled the sheet.
“Thought you were gonna bring your Inari one.”
“That would be embarrassing, would it not?”
After all, Inari was an active player in the Academy you had just signed to. Though you looked up to him, it was surely something that would garner incessant teasing. God forbid if you ever met the man…
Kiryu shrugged, sizing up the wall.
“Good here?” He asked.
You nodded. A sigh fell from your lips; if you wanted to be done at some point that night, you both would have to move a lot faster.
.
Anything can be done with the power of perseverance. And the promise of food.
You stood in the center of your room, now fully unpacked, and basked in the open space. With Kiryu’s special touches to the walls and random scribbled post-its from when he got bored, it felt homey. You looked at your friend, who was sprawled on the bed. He looked utterly exhausted, but you were satisfied with the work you both had done.
“Alright Mitsuki,” you tapped his foot, “You earned it. Let’s get some food, my treat.”
His green eyes sparkled. Then, a look of remembrance crossed his face.
“Oh, wait. The guys wanted to take you out for a welcome dinner at seven.”
You blinked. Swiping your phone from your back pocket, you saw that it was about thirty minutes past that. Panic set in, making you jump as if you’d been burned by an electric shock. You cursed out a string of profanities while running down the stairs.
“We’re late! Why didn’t you say something earlier?” You yelled.
Kiryu merely laughed, signature lazy smile etching his features. He walked down the stairs and waved you off.
“Relax, they’re not strict guys.”
This was such a bad first impression to make. You had to make it up to them somehow. Kiryu might’ve been calm about this whole thing, but you were still the new recruit. Anxiety writhed in your gut.
You were practically dragging Kiryu out the door as he struggled to slip on his shoes. Not often were you the one who was late to things, making this display quite amusing to the man. Luckily for you, the place they picked was right around the corner. You were thankful it wasn’t a fancy steakhouse or anything, just a cute little shabu-shabu spot.
The aroma of the various cooked meats and broths had your mouth watering. Each table you passed had dishes that looked better than the last. You made a mental note of what ingredients to grab from the counter as you approached the table. Three men sat around two boiling soups wells, two of them feasting to their heart’s content. They looked just like how Kiryu described them in past conversations.
You and Kiryu took the two empty seats across from them, heat rising to your cheeks when they seemed to all observe you. The blond one quickly finished slurping his noodles before beaming at you.
“Ah, you must be our new recruit! Kiryu’s told us about you!”
Before you could respond, the man adorning an eye patch placed his tea upon the table and met your eyes with a mischievous glint.
“A little late, are we?”
There was no malice in his tone that you could detect, but the guilt still weighed on you.
“Now, now, a woman is allowed to be fashionably late.” Kiryu smiled with the wave of his hand.
You bowed slightly, embarrassment hanging over you like a storm cloud, “I’m sorry, we got carried away unpacking things in my dorm.”
“Don’t let Suo’s teasing get to your head. Anyway, you’re here now and that’s what’s important! You should grab a plate before Sakura eats it all.” The blond spoke, passing over two black dishes.
The man with monochromatic hair, who you assumed the blond was talking about, was either too enraptured with his slices of wagyu to notice his comment or he just didn’t care enough to respond. Though, you had to admit, the way he was devouring his food made it look all the more delicious. You and Kiryu took the plates with grateful grins. Suo murmured a small apology to you, which you waved off, telling him not to worry. You grew up around Kiryu, afterall. He was a gentleman, but the man had his moments.
You wasted no time in cooking your meat in the miso broth. The blond swiped their shared ingredient platter from Sakura’s side and began pushing random vegetables onto your plate. Your gratitude was immense. Although you noticed – and it seemed that Kiryu did as well – the way his hand shook the longer he held it up.
“Nirei, how’s your wrist doing?” Kiryu asked.
Nirei’s eyes widened slightly as he lowered the platter back onto its place on the table, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. Kiryu had mentioned that two of his teammates had injuries of different kinds. One had been sustained quite recently which caused him to retire, and the other had a long-term condition which had been exacerbated on numerous occasions.
You remembered asking him why he’d continue to play if his carpal tunnel didn’t seem to be getting better – why he’d push himself to practice to the point of needing week breaks. Why not just retire at that point? But Kiryu just smiled, raising his eyes from his phone.
“Because he loves playing with his friends.”
And you understood immediately. That reason was mostly why you accepted the invitation to join the Furin Academy team. That, and you liked a challenge.
“A-Ah, that…” Nirei bashfully scratched the back of his neck.
At the hesitation to answer, Suo interjected, “He should be back to playing by tomorrow, right?”
“Oh, right! Yes, I’ll be ready for the practice game tomorrow.”
Kiryu seemed satisfied with the answer, replying with a hum, though you could tell there was concern behind his nonchalant attitude. Maybe it was a sensitive subject for all of them. You glanced at Nirei and your eyes softened at the way he seemed to stare off at his hands resting on the table.
“Prepare yourself Ms Newbie, Sakura is a handful as a tank.” Suo’s eye closed into a crescent shape.
“O-Oi! I’m not a handful!” Sakura barked, blushing a furious red.
Suo threw his hands up in surrender, “Yes, yes Sakura. But what are we to do if you overextend, hm?”
Sakura grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “Shaddup! I don’t do that!”
“Is that so? My apologies, now have some more meat so you can grow big and strong.”
Sakura grumbled something unintelligible as he let go of Suo’s shirt. Suo shoveled more of the wagyu and lamb onto his plate, offering what was left to you and Kiryu. You chuckled and accepted.
You threw a glance at Nirei and felt lighter in your chest. His lips were finally curved into something that suited him better than a frown. They really did understand each other well, a sign of a good bond. It was something you had experienced with Kiryu, but you wondered if you would build new ones with more people as well.
“Oi, Newbie,” Sakura called out, grabbing your attention, “have you gone to see Umemiya yet?”
Oh yeah, he said he wanted to see you… whoever he is.
You shook your head, “No, I completely forgot. I’m not sure what he wants me for anyway.”
Suo hummed in thought. Seemed that everyone but you knew who that guy was, maybe a higher up? But what would a higher up need you for? You had already signed all of the contracts given to you and completed all of the necessary paperwork. You couldn’t have done anything wrong just yet either, or could you have?
“He should be in tomorrow for practice, you can probably catch him after the game.” Suo replied.
You nodded. You supposed you’d have all of your questions answered the next day. For the moment, you had let the mystery dissipate from your mind.
“Nirei, didn’t you have questions you wanted to ask Ms Newbie?” Suo smiled.
“Hm? Oh, yeah!” Nirei straightened up, quickly whipping out a tiny notebook from his back pocket.
The next hour consisted of quite the interview, as well as a couple drinks shared amongst you all. Though you enjoyed yourself fully, there was one thought that remained by the end of it.
# professional e-sports player!wind breaker x reader
⟢ fluff, angst, slow burn, multi-chaptered fic // You might have your sights set on a certain League of Legends pro player, but so does his ex! When she joins team KEEL in an attempt to get close to Umemiya again and prove her worth over you, you are suddenly in for the season of a lifetime. All about rivalry, love, and angst! Can you win Umemiya’s heart before she can?
multi-char. x implied fem!reader, wc: 4.3k (total), req? no.
starring! sakura, kaji, umemiya, togame, hiragi, suo
mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant
h. sakura
You can see it in his face, how he's freaking out without trying to move a single muscle. You've known your husband for far too long to miss the panic shining in his eyes, the panic you've been watching steadily grow over the past nine months of your pregnancy.
But now he's holding your son, and it's so very clear that he's totally overwhelmed.
You had naively thought, while distracted by the difficulty of pregnancy and labor, that Haruka had come to terms with the fact that he was going to be—and now was—a father.
Your baby is here, a healthy boy with two beautifully different colored eyes, and you've only been home from the hospital for a few short hours. You had meant to sneak off and take a bath, but then you saw the nervousness lace your husband's lean frame and knew you needed to settle your big baby, first.
"Haru," You coo, kneeling on the couch cushion beside your husband. Your son is sleeping on his chest, Haruka's large hands holding him in the exact perfect way you were taught in those parenting classes Nirei had suggested you take together. "How's it going?"
"Dunno," He answers quickly, but you hear the breathlessness in his quiet voice, desperate not to wake your perfect son. He doesn't even bother looking at you, amber and coal eyes trained on the crown of your newborn's head. "He fell asleep."
"He's a baby. He'll do that." You tease, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your husband's head while the other brushes gently over your son's back. You see Haruka's ears burn red, still not used to your affection, even after so long married, but for once, you bite your tongue.
"I don't..." Your husband starts then pauses, jaw clenching tight in the way he always does while struggling to piece together what he wants to say. He's gotten better at talking through his feelings over the years, but big milestones always make him revert back to the way he was in high school. You know to wait for him, your fingers brushing mindlessly through his two-toned hair while admiring your son. "I don't know what I'm doing."
His words make you snort a laugh, and he looks away from his son just long enough to glare at you.
"Sorry, honey," You mumble, proving you're truly sorry by placating him with a sickeningly sweet kiss to his lips. "But you think I know what I'm doing?"
"That's not what I meant," He huffs. His usual dramatics are toned down, and you credit it to his awareness of his sleeping son on his chest. Your baby has been an easy sleeper so far, but you know it's subject to change.
"I know," You confess, leaning closer into your husband's side, cheek pressed against his shoulder so you can swoon over your son. He really is a perfect mix of your husband and yourself. It makes your lips twitch with a smile unknowingly.
"How am I supposed to be a good dad, when I had such an awful role model for mine?" He's asked this question before, shortly after you announced your pregnancy to him. He had been wracked with panic, then, but you had spent hours chasing those thoughts away. The arrival of your son must have stirred up old feelings.
"I think that the fact that you're even worried about that proves that you're already better than your father." You hum, letting your words sink in. You mean them, too. "Plus, I wouldn't have married you if I thought you were anything less than absolutely perfect for me."
“Shaddup,” He huffs, but his blush has spread to his cheeks. From your spot against his shoulder, you lean up and forward to press another kiss to the underside of his jaw.
“Mmm.” You settle against his shoulder once more, your adoring gaze settled on your sweetest baby. You’re certain that you could spend the rest of your life exactly where you’re sitting—on your couch, against your husband’s side, your son asleep on Haruka’s chest.
You reach out a hand and brush your son’s tiny closed fist, resting against the soft fabric of your husband’s shirt. He’s so tiny, and so, so loved. And you know he’ll grow up knowing it, if Haruka always holds him as tenderly as was at that moment.
“Just give him everything you wished your father had given you,” You murmur, feeling your eyelids start to droop. So much for getting the chance to shower while your son slept. “And if you mess up, I’ll be there to set you straight.”
You mean it as a joke, but you’re so sleepy the words drift out of you on a whisper. Haruka breathes a little heavier, something indicative of a laugh while his mind is a million miles away yet grounded to the moment.
“Yeah,” He hums, voice a deep vibration your son surely feels in his sleep. “I can do that.”
You drift to sleep with a smile on your face, your son nearby, and your husband feeling lighter.
r. kaji
You should’ve known you were in trouble when your husband and daughter were being quiet.
It’s not like they’re overly rambunctious or anything, at least, not for a toddler. But you don’t recall hearing even a peep from the two of them in the past ten minutes while you cooked dinner for your small family, and that never happens.
Suspicious, you turn down the heat and venture out of the kitchen. You saw them last in the living room, Ren roped into watching your daughter’s favorite shows. Except, they’re not there, and your confusion mixes with worry about what they could be getting into.
Yes, you trust your husband endlessly, but your daughter has him wrapped around her finger—just like you do.
You make your way further into the house. The door to your bedroom is shut, but your daughter's room is cracked just wide enough for you to finally hear the telltale whispers of your husband and child clearly getting up to something.
"Where did everyone go—?" You ask as you push open the door and step inside, though you pause the moment you find two so similar faces staring up at you with wide, we're getting in trouble, eyes. What's worse is the twin lollipop sticks hanging from their mouths—contraband. "Ren Kaji, I know you're not giving my baby candy while I'm cooking dinner."
Your husband, sitting on the floor with your toddler, looks so guilty you don't even need the bag of evidence—the bag of lollipops usually hidden atop the fridge—to know he's played right into your daughter's tricks.
And your sweet baby girl, your cunning three year old, turns to face you with a big grin on her face and one chubby cheek puffed out with a lollipop stored inside it. You try to frown at her, really, but it's so hard to get mad at her when she's nearly a carbon copy of her father.
"Mama!" She calls, voice muffled by the candy in her mouth. She's standing between Ren's spread legs, but one toddler-sized fist is pointing accusingly at her father. "Papa gave me this. I not in trouble!"
"Way to sell me out," Ren huffs, crossing his arms. Your daughter pulls the lollipop from her mouth and holds the treat in one hand. You have to use your own palm to smother the adoring smile overtaking your features as you watch the scene unfold, especially when your daughter leans forward to smack a sticky kiss to her father's cheek.
"It's okay, Papa." She assures him, voice serious and bright, like she wasn't playing her father right in front of you. Honestly, you admire her skill at getting Ren to do what she wanted. "I still love you, 'kay?"
And Ren nods dutifully, falling hopelessly for his daughter's tricks. You're not even certain he realizes that he just took the blame for the act they undoubtedly conspired in.
"You both know we don't eat candy before dinner," You remind them sternly, though your pointed mom-is-pissed look is mainly trained on your husband. You're grateful that they both look down at the floor in shame, because it gives you a chance to grin at how cute they both are before clearing your throat to get their attention.
Their attention snaps to you, and suddenly you're reminded that you're just as powerless to Ren's and your daughter's wide puppy-dog eyes.
"Dinner's almost ready. Wanna help me finish cooking while Papa sets the table?" Your question is met with a cheer as your daughter races towards you, getting scooped up easily into your arms. With a smile, you press a series of kisses to her chipmunk cheek, which has her squealing with laughter in seconds.
The sound is like heaven to your ears, and you know you can never be truly mad at Ren for caving to your sweet daughter's demands for an extra lollipop when you're just as likely to bend the rules of the world to give her what she wants.
Ren appears at your side, one hand settling low on your back while he presses a kiss of his own to your temple, despite the lollipop stick hanging from his mouth. You tug it out carefully, angling your chin up for a proper kiss that he readily gives you.
"Thanks for not being mad," He murmurs against your lips, words a quiet hum despite the way your daughter rambles on about something she had done at daycare that day.
"You're dealing with her sugar rush later," You fire back, winking as his face pulls into an expression of pained realization at what he had done. Popping his lollipop into your own mouth, you grin around the candy and turn to leave your daughter's room with her on your hip and Ren's heavy sigh.
And a chastise from your daughter, too.
"Mama, no candy!"
h. umemiya
There was never a doubt in your mind that Hajime would make a brilliant father. Always so doting, so attentive. He practically oozed fatherhood long before you married him.
So when you found out you were pregnant with twins, you knew you'd be perfectly fine.
Not that you thought it would be easy, oh no. You knew the hardships of becoming first time parents, and now you had double the tasks to do with two babies, but you had Hajime by your side.
And you were right.
The twins, one boy and one girl, are only three months shy of being a year old, and everyday has felt like a dream. They each have developed their own personalities, but one thing's for certain—they love their papa.
You're doing laundry. It's a mundane task, but with two babies, there's always a pile of something that needs to be washed. Hajime has the twins, so you're able to knock through a few loads without interruption. It's only when you take a load of sheets outside to hang that you realize just where your husband has been entertaining your children for so long.
"And this one's a tomato plant!" Hajime declares proudly, pointing to the aforementioned vegetable not quite yet producing. The twins are in their carrier, both strapped to his chest and facing outward as he shows off his garden for the umpteenth time to your drooling babies. "You both liked tomatoes last time we tried them."
You're stuck standing by the laundry wire, arms wrapped loosely around yourself. There's something so unbelievably heartwarming about seeing your husband talk to your children without him knowing you're there.
"And, oh, that's sweet peas! You like those," Hajime presses a kiss to the crown of your daughter's head to reference her while he stands tall with his hands on his hips. He repeats the action with your son, a chuckle shaking his shoulders as he does so. "But you just threw your peas in my face. Your mama thought that it was really funny."
You grin at the memory. Of how your son wasted no time in lobbing his food at his father the moment he got control of the spoon, how despite the sweet pea puree sliding down his face, Hajime didn't once stop smiling.
"When you're both old enough, you'll have your own garden plots to grow whatever you want!" Hajime declares, to which your daughter babbles excitedly, matching her papa's energy. Your son turns his head to chew on the strap of the carrier, and the action brings you into his line of sight. He coos instantly, chubby baby arms stretching out for you to hold him.
The movement catches Hajime's attention, and he turns to face you. Just like his son, your husband brightens when he realizes you're nearby, one arm extending to beckon you closer. And really, you'd be a fool if you ever denied Hajime anything, so you abandon the laundry to find your way to your husband's side, overlooking his garden plots.
"There's Mama," He wraps an arm around shoulders as soon as you're in reach, crushing you into his side, careful of your son's legs. You twist in his hold so that you can press kisses to the chubby cheeks of your twins, then to your husband's lips. "We were admiring the garden. I can't wait until they can help me with it."
"They're going to be veggie experts before they enter preschool." You joke, poking Hajime's side teasingly. Adoration shines so brightly in his eyes, you're once more reminded why you made the perfect choice in marrying him.
"I think we're going to add some cucumber seedlings before the season for them passes. The twins love them." He sways side to side as he speaks, large hands splaying on the bellies of both your children through the carrier. You smile at him, swaying along with him. Your son has a tight grip on one of your hands while your daughter expertly gnaws on the fingers of your other, anchoring you in place.
Not that you had any intention of running off anytime soon.
"That sounds perfect, Haji."
j. togame
"Papa, what about that one!"
Your son's excited shouts carry over the crowd of the festival. You smile up at him, sitting on your husband's shoulders and excitedly pointing at the fifth food stall you've passed so far.
"Oh, yeah. That one too." Jo assures your son, squeezing his legs in his large hands that are holding him still and safe over his shoulders. Your four year old giggles in excitement, pudgy palms pushing against Jo's cheeks from his vantage point.
"I met your Papa at a festival, you know." You call out to your son, smiling brightly up at the miniature carbon-copy of your husband. "He was working at a food stand, then."
"Woah..." Your son gasps, drawing a deep chuckle out of your husband. You slip your hand in the folded crook of Jo's elbow, keeping yourself close to him while you walk.
Jo had told your son about all the food stalls he had helped out at over the years, which led to your son asking if he had worked at every stand you passed.
Jo told him yeah, but you're starting to question the legitimacy of his assurances. There's a very real chance that he's just saying so that he can keep hearing your son's excited laughter at each stall.
"That's why your mama fell in love with me," Jo smiles, though it's a little wonky with the way your son squeezes his cheeks. "One bite of my fried noodles and she was begging to marry me."
"Oh please," You huff, laughing. Your free hand smoothes over the swell of your baby bump, six months pregnant with another boy. "You were the one begging for a date."
"Worked out pretty well for me, didn't it?" Jo's grin is charming and wide, his lazy grin sliding over to you with a warmth that matches the burning in your chest.
"I wanna work at a food stall!" Your son exclaims, bouncing with energy is certainly did not get from Jo. You laugh at his eagerness, turning your chin to press a soft kiss to your husband's bicep.
"I'll ask around," Jo nods, not even wincing when your son pulls a little too tightly on his hair in his excitement. He's twisting around on your husband's shoulders, like he's already looking for someone Jo can ask to let him help. It reminds you of Choji, and you make a mental note to invite him over to dinner so he can run out your son's endless energy.
"But for now, why don't you think of something you want to eat?" You pinch your son's leg, enjoying the shriek of laughter he lets out. Jo holds him tighter, a secure anchor keeping your son safe atop his shoulders.
"Hmm..." He hums in contemplation, considering the very important decision of what to eat. Something very important for his four-year old self, evidently. "What does baby brother want to eat, Mama?"
"I don't think you want what baby brother's been craving." Jo warns your son in a comment meant to tease you. In retaliation, you nudge him with your elbow but you can't argue. Your second pregnancy cravings are far stranger than your first had been.
"Baby brother wants some sweet bread." You counter with a snack you see at a food stall nearby. Jo sees what you're talking about and carefully redirects your route, sending you a subtlety pointed look when you attempt to remove your hand from his arm. With the crowd picking up the longer the festival carries on, Jo doesn't want you far from his side.
It's his own brand of silent, easy protectiveness that makes you wish you could marry him all over again.
You just might have to ask if he'll let you—after you give him his second son.
t. hiragi
Oh, your husband is screwed.
He's late for dinner, and your two year old daughter is going to give him hell for it. You really aren't sure if you should feel sorry for him, considering she gets her demand for punctuality from him.
But it might be your fault your daughter is even aware your husband is late coming home from work. It's not like she's able to tell time, but you had made an offhand comment, something mumbled more to yourself than for anyone else's ears.
"Papa should've been home already,"
Your daughter overheard, her little ears picking up on any mention of her beloved Papa. But the excitement she felt about hearing her papa's name was quickly overtaken by anger at the fact that he wasn't home to play dress up with her, like usual.
"Mama, what time?" Your tiny drill sergeant of a daughter demands while standing in front of the door, little arms crossed over her chest. She's pouting, and you know she's pissed because her little foot is tapping impatiently.
You tell her the time because there's no way you're going to end up on her bad side, too. Toma is out of luck, but it's every man for himself when your daughter's wrath is at hand.
Finally, you hear the tell-tale jingle of Toma's keys in the lock. You'd be lying if you said you weren't the tiniest big eager to see the showdown between your husband and your mini-me. Because as Toma likes to say, he was blessed with a daughter that's too similar to you.
"Hey, sweethearts. I'm home—" Toma calls out to the two of you, but he freezes in his tracks when he sees the lethal glare his daughter is giving him. You're struggling to smother your grin at the sight. "Uh-oh. What's happening?"
"You're late, Papa!" She huffs. In a dramatic flurry of movement, she crosses her arms tighter over herself and turns her back on the man she's been waiting the past ten minutes for.
"Mama sold me out, huh?" Toma sighs, defeated. You feel the slightest twinge of guilt when you see the hurt on his face at getting the cold shoulder from your daughter, but then you remember how he left you to handle bath time alone the night before, and you feel a little vindicated. "Well, baby, I only stopped to get dinner like Mama asked. That's why I was late."
He holds up the bag with the takeout you'd requested in it, trying to get your toddler to see sense. You're not sure if it's working, but she does turn back around to face him at the mention of food.
"I don't like when you're late," She says in her tiny voice, and it's like shots to the heart for you—so you can't even imagine what it's doing to Toma.
At this point it's just cruel. You know you need to intervene.
"You know what? I completely forgot I asked Papa to stop and get dinner for us." You say, crossing the short distance to where your husband is still standing by the door and desperately trying to win your daughter's favor. You trade him a kiss for the takeout bag, and things seem almost normal when your daughter steps forward to hug Toma's leg. She's still pouting, though, so you make a show of looking in the bag and gasping dramatically. "Papa got your favorite, too! Isn't that so nice of him, baby?"
"You 'membered my favorite?" Your daughter asks with wide eyes, and your husband wastes no time in scooping her up off her feet. He presses a kiss to her cheek, big and dramatic the way she likes it, and he's rewarded with the sound of her laughter ringing through your small home.
"Of course I did." He assures her with a smile. You see the relief in his eyes that her attitude didn't last long, and you can't help but poke his side teasingly. "Now, why don't we go eat?"
"Yes, Papa!"
h. suo
Your home is concerningly quiet when you come home from work.
With three kids and a husband, it's a miracle that the place isn't torn up. But Hayato does a good job at keeping the kids entertained and in line, so when you come home to an empty living room, you wonder if he took them to the nearby park.
But when you wander into the kitchen to try and figure out a plan for dinner, you see the teapot on the counter, along with an open and ransacked box of cookies, and you know exactly where your missing family members are located.
You grin and make your way down the hallway to your eldest's room. Just like you expected, the door is cracked and your three year old daughter is hosting a tea party. But instead of having her stuffed animals seated in the small chairs around the table, she has her two younger brothers and father playing along.
You lean silently against the door frame, grateful that Hayato's back is to you so you can observe without his teasing comments. Your smile overtakes your face as your daughter gives orders to her brothers—one just two months shy being two and the other only four months and in a bouncer.
Your middle son clumsily holds his—thankfully empty—teacup, cookie crumbs over his face. He's clinging onto his favorite blanket, and you make a mental note to sneak it away and wash it while he's napping next.
Your youngest hasn't grasped the concept of pretend play yet. He's making a valiant effort to eat the plastic tea cup his sister set in front of him.
"The tea is quite good today, dear." Hayato sips his empty cup, his long frame folded into the tiny chair set up at the table. Your daughter giggles at the dramatic voice he uses when he talks, and you can only imagine the proud grin he wears at making her laugh.
Though, your secret admiring is short lived when your middle son spots you, his baby voice babbling out something only you and Hayato recognize as 'Mama!' that you hope he never stops calling you.
"Ah, there she is." Hayato hums sweetly as he twists in his chair to face you front his seat. You step fully into the room, found out, and have every intention of greeting him with a kiss like usual, but then he opens his mouth with a smug comment you should've expected. "We're in dire need of waitstaff. Can you refill my tea for me?"
You stop just short of kissing him. You flick his forehead instead, his laughter ringing throughout the room. Your kids see the smiles on both your faces and laugh along; your youngest blows a raspberry and spit dribbles down his chin.
"Mama isn't the waiter!" Your daughter protests, jumping up to set another placemat for you. "Sit next to me!"
"Someone likes me," You grin, poking your tongue out at your husband. He smiles back, like usual, and doesn't miss a beat when he hands your middle child another cookie he's no doubt babbling for.
"Yeah, Papa." Your daughter carefully pours you fake tea. She takes her time, concentrating, wanting to get it exactly right. Just like her father taught her. "Don't be mean to Mama."
"But that's what makes Mama fall in love with me," Your husband smoothly reasons. You roll your eyes, but you can't deny it. His relentless teasing drew you to him. There's something to be said about a man that can make you laugh.
And Hayato is funny enough that you gave him three kids.
"Now," You lift your plastic teacup and tap it gently against your daughter's before taking a 'sip'. You even make a point to hum contentedly, like it was the best tea you've never tasted. "What were we talking about?"
"Papa said he's gonna teach me to fight!"
[a/n: I loved writing this so much. lmk if you want more because I would be SO down.]
# professional e-sports player!wind breaker x reader
⟢ fluff, angst, multi-chaptered fic // You’re recruited to join one of Furin Academy’s professional teams. The only thing is, you’re the only woman to ever join a Furin team.
# professional e-sports player!wind breaker x reader
⟢ fluff, angst, multi-chaptered fic // You’re recruited to join one of Furin Academy’s professional teams. The only thing is, you’re the only woman to ever join a Furin team.
Thumping rings in your ears, though you can’t tell if it’s from the bass speakers beneath the stage or your own heart. It’s subtle, the way the organ rattles against your ribcage. It could jump out of your chest right then and there and you wouldn’t notice, not when the chants of the crowd reverberate through your body.
B-F-A! B-F-A! B-F-A!
No, if your heart were to give out right now, it wouldn’t be from the nerves of the game ahead of you. It wouldn’t be because of the hundreds of people you have yet to greet. It wouldn’t even be from the stakes that ride upon your shoulders.
“Hey,” A hand caresses your arm, “Are you okay?”
Suo tilts his gaze toward you, a comforting half smile sitting on his face. Your arm, once tensed upon touch, relaxes when your eyes meet. You draw in a breath, letting the air fill your lungs completely, before letting it all out.
“Yeah, just nervous I suppose.”
“It’s okay, you’re going to do just fine. Nothing we haven’t done before, right?”
Another face appears in your peripheral – Nirei. He’s usually the one who trembles up until the game starts, but now he stands next to you with calm hands and curled lips. You can’t help but soften your wrinkled brows; he’s grown so much since you first met him.
“He’s right, Y/N. We practiced just for this moment. We’ve been through it all, there’s nothing that can surprise us anymore.”
“And,” A voice from behind you adds, “We have Sakura here to defend us from all attacks. As long as he’s standing, we’re gonna win.”
You glance back at Kiryu, who ties his hair back. His green eyes form into crescents as he shakes out his hands. They’re all right. The confidence that exudes from your teammates astounds you, but you’d expect no less from this group after the shit you’ve all been through. Enough practice to cause carpal tunnel, losses that could break spirits, and inner turmoil that’d put the average person out of commission.
But your nerves, as you knew, were not centered around this game. The tingle in your fingers is in response to a different thing. In the center of your mind remained the one person who had made you feel like this since the very beginning. The one you wanted to win this for, whether he knew it or not.
All of the memories you had made with him at the academy flash in your head. Mirrored smiles, bold stares thrown, shared laughter, tears that had been shed, and the warmth of his body pressed up against yours – all of it was ingrained in your brain. You probably wouldn’t have made it this far without him.
“Oi,” Sakura stands in front, peering at you all over his shoulder, “It’s time to go.”
Nirei straightens up, sliding in behind you. Suo removes his hand from your shoulder and slots in front of you, giving you one last smile while adjusting his jacket.
“Ooh, Sakura, always so cool.” Kiryu teasingly coos.
“Shut yer trap.” Sakura grumbles, though the words don’t mask the red painting the tips of his ears.
Small laughs erupt from your group, your shoulders finally dropping. Gratitude is all you can feel as you relish in this moment with your team. How you got so lucky to face this with them, you’ll never know.
The grey doors slide open, incandescent lights blinding you momentarily. As your eyes adjust, the chants from earlier flood your ears tenfold. The words mix together into something barely coherent, but you can make out some voices shouting your names.
Sakura is the first to step out of the corridor. The breeze of the stage’s A/C causes the skin underneath your jacket to prickle. Suo follows suit behind the IGL, quick to wave at the crowd that cheers for him. You shake your head, clearing your mind like clouds parting to let the sun in after a downpour. Another deep breath in, and you take your first step onto the mainstage.
This one is for all the marbles, as they say. You could imagine Sakura rolling his eyes at that.
Familiar faces are scattered in the audience, though your eyes land on a specific person. His presence grounds you, allowing for a smile to grace your lips. You follow along the metal stage, taking your place next to Suo.
The announcers introduce each team, asking the crowd to cheer for them both. Your coach comes to stand in front of your group, shaking hands with the other coach before you’re all told to adjust your PC setups to your liking.
Across the stage sits the opposing team’s desks, of which you can see various monitors, keyboards, computer mice, and water bottles. Some even set up little trinkets they believe bring them luck or comfort. You’d had an item like that, one that was given to you for this very game.
Suo sits to your left and Nirei to your right, both already putting on their in-ear monitors. You place your good luck item on your desk before sitting down. Your monitor displays the Overwatch 2 home screen, the game you had come to love for all these years. The in-ear monitors slip into your ears with ease, Kiryu’s voice immediately greeting you.
“Kiryu online.” He draws out the last syllable.
You throw the noise cancelling headphones over your ears and let the voices fade away.
“Y/N online.”
“Remember Y/N, whoever gets the least amount of kills between us buys dinner.” Suo smiles, putting on his headphones.
You laugh lightly, “Hope you have enough money to cover my victory feast.”
Suo shakes his head with a chuckle. You check your mouse’s sensitivity, adjusting it with three clicks.
“I don’t think I need to say anything,” Your coach’s voice comes through the ear monitors, “You guys know what to do.”
Confirmations echo in response to his words, a new confidence building in each of your chests. The game ahead of you was no different than any other you have played, only the title earned for being the victor. Of course, you all know what you need to do.
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