Series Synopsis: After a winged man from another universe manifests in your living room, you must do your best to help him blend into your world until he can find his way back home.
AO3 Link
Current Word Count: TBA
Status: Ongoing
Pairing: Phainon x F!Reader
Content Warnings: reverse isekai au, reader & co. are in college, the differences between amphoreus and earth are exaggerated for comedic effect, mostly fluff and humor and slice of life with some heavier moments (references to 3.x canon), roommate dan heng and best friend cyrene are heavily involved in these shenanigans i fear i just didn’t mention them in the summary, THIS IS A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR, possibly explicit chapters later on ?? but they will be tagged and i am still debating so i will edit this warning when i make up my mind, shorter chapters FOR ONCE
ONE
── “The wait is long. My dream of you does not end.” (O’Faolain, My Dream of You)
it’s a normal day. you’re with your boyfriend, as usual, except he’s acting a little odd. not quite meeting your gaze, dark eyes staring at your lips.
“what’s wrong?” you look up from the ice cream he had offered you a minute ago. “something on my face?”
“yeah,” he murmurs. “i’ll get it for you.”
and you expected him to maybe wipe your cheek with a napkin, or his thumb. anything but for him to lick a drop of melted mint chocolate ice cream off the corner of your lip. you blink as his cold tongue runs over you, sending a shiver down your body.
wait, cold? but he didn’t eat any-
“hey!” you squeak. “what’re you-“
the audacity of him to smirk at you as he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. flustered, you freeze, unsure of what he’s planning.
and then his lips meet yours and you gasp. the feeling was new: sharp, metallic, and utterly devastating.
he pulls back suddenly, breaking the kiss.
“wha…how?” you stutter. he sticks out his tongue at you. oh. you see it then, the silvery ball in between his tongue. the fucker got a tongue piercing behind your back.
“you like?” your boyfriend grins wide.
instead of answering, you kiss him again.
—ITOSHI RIN, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (bllk), gojo satoru, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ryomen sukuna (jjk), SASUKE UCHIHA, gaara (naruto), tartaglia, KAZUHA, wriothesley (genshin) + your favs!
Joshua Hong: gentleman, menace to society (pt 2) (1) (3) (4)
"You look like the second male lead character who disturbs the female main character... you leave the door open for the female main character and she misunderstands it and is attracted to you and gets involved with you."
-- Lee Youngji
[The artist, putting a simple cake next to a much fancier one: “Aw man, that guy’s cake is way better than mine.” The Audience, gleefully holding up a knife and fork “HOLY SHIT! TWO CAKES!”]
It's kind of funny to imagine Damian being just floored by how much you...can't do.
Let me explain! He grew up with insanely skilled assassins, even the people who swept the floors in that palace he lived in were probably skilled martial artists, right? And then he goes to live with fucking batman and his insane family of acrobatic, super intelligent freaks. AND his best friend is the son of Superman!
So I really don't think he has a realistic basis for what a normal person can and can't do.
-
He tells you he wants to show you the view from one of the roofs he patrols and then just starts scaling a whole apartment building only stopping when he realises you're not following him.
You stand on the ground, hands on your hips, giving him a look that says "What the hell am I supposed to do?" He silently scales his way back down, awkwardly clearing his throat.
"There's an elevator inside."
You hum in agreement not trying to hide your amusement as he leads you inside the building with his head down and his cheeks a little darker.
-
"Beloved, look."
He shows you a post that looks like it's about dog breeds but you really can't tell because it's in a language you can barely identify.
"...I can't read that, Damian."
He looks confused then reads the post again and flushes slightly when he realises his mistake. It's not his fault he forgot! If he'd shown any of his siblings they'd probably be able to read it so he just didn't realise and now he's embarrassed! 😣
-
He's constantly confused by how impressed you are by him.
When he casually does like 100 one handed pushups or impossible yoga stretches you'll be on the sidelines going "woahhh" and he's confused because to him this is normal.
Or how you're constantly impressed by how he can switch through languages so well or how good he is at literally any trivia on anything or how many art forms he's basically mastered.
It reminds him to appreciate all the things he can do even if he thinks they're normal.
It's beautiful and a feat of human invention but why the hell is it so loud???? Why does it have to scare any animal in the vicinity?
Titus is very smart and well trained but he's still a dog and there's no need to for him to go through all that stress. Every year, as you get ready to stay up through the night, Damian grumbles while feeding his dog some sleeping meds.
"Flares, lanterns, light shows, even drones." He trails off the various other ways people could celebrate, frustration clear.
"Did you know they make silent fireworks, Beloved?"
"Yes, I know. You tell me every year."
You sit next to him and rub a hand down his back, much like he does to Titus.
If you're both vigilantes then you spend the night running around Gotham, helping the various scared pets that run off and get them back to their owners. Answering every cry or whine you can hear over the loud cracks and bangs and cheers.
Maybe you take a second to share a few celebratory kisses for the new year as well.
Sitting in the kitchen of your strangely quiet apartment, you stared at your phone, waiting for anything from him. It's your first Christmas together… if he even shows up. You've set up the table, decorated your place, and cooked a good amount of dishes for both of you.
But what was meant for two people would turn cold long before Phainon could reply to your messages. He was supposed to be here an hour ago, after he told you he was on the way.
A plethora of thoughts circulated in your brain as you nervously waited. What if something happened to him? Did he lie about leaving on time? Did he forget something back at his place? Did he get lost? Wait, no, he's been to your apartment before, multiple times at that.
As you fidget with your fingers, a thought you've been burying at the back of your mind keeps pestering you.
What if… he forgot? Surely not? Phainon isn't the type.
But even after knowing that, all you could do was hope that he would prove you wrong.
He's late. Extremely late.
Phainon grips the steering wheel of his car, pushing more energy than he realizes. He was supposed to be at your place an hour ago, but on the way, he passed by a pop-up flower stand and couldn't pass on the opportunity.
The bouquet he picked out for you was beautiful—perfectly and carefully selected flowers that perfectly matched your taste and personality. But he didn't take into account how long it would take him. I mean, you're just too lovely that every flower suited you!
And now he's stuck in unbelievable traffic, reminding him why he was supposed to leave early. He did! But uhm… got sidetracked. Not to mention that his phone was dead, so he couldn't even tell you what happened and where he was.
He was about to cry.
He is crying.
Another 30 minutes pass by, and now the food is cold, and you're left sitting—looking as if you've been abandoned—and at this point? You might as well be.
Anger, worry, and sorrow fueled your mind as you stared at your phone. Messages you've sent to Phainon being left on delivered.
Maybe he did forget.
Feeling dejected, you finally made up your mind and started placing the lids back on the dishes you've made.
Ding dong!
Huh.
Surely..?
Before you knew it, you were already at the door, hand on the door handle. As you carefully swing the door open, you can hear little sobs and sniffles.
"Phai—?!" You were abruptly cut off by strong arms embracing you in a tight hug.
"My dearest dawnlight! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize I was running late!" Phainon lifts you off the ground, spinning you around in excitement.
"Whoa, hey! Put me down!" With a sigh, he mutters an apology before setting you down. As your feet hit the floor, you gaze up at a fascinating sight.
He was pouting, puppy eyes on full show. Honestly? He looked like a kicked puppy with his tail tucked between his legs.
That didn't really work, though; you were still upset at him for showing up incredibly late with no notice. "Why didn't you respond to my messages? I've been waiting for around 2 hours for you!" You frown, trying your best to stay serious while he practically whimpers to gain your sympathy.
"I would if I could! I swear! My darling, my phone's dead, so I couldn't—" Before he could continue, he got distracted by the disappointed and upset look on your face. It stung his heart to know he was the one who had caused that. Oh, the world was practically ending for him at that moment.
Quickly, he picks up the bouquet he set down on the floor earlier before ringing your doorbell and offers it to you. His gaze was apologetic, his body looming over yours due to his height. Something about a tall and at times, intimidating man, downgrading to a state like this because of you felt quite enthralling.
"For you, Dawnlight. I passed by a flower stand on the way here, and I just had to get you a bouquet. And before I knew it, I already lost track of time after being so immersed in picking the best ones for you."
"And I got caught in traffic, but let's not talk about that part, please hehe." He quickly adds in a voice much smaller.
His grip tightens on the flowers, but not too tight as to damage the stems. A desperate, almost pathetic voice comes out as he opens his mouth to speak again.
"Forgive me, please?"
And as much as you wanted to hate him right now. As much as you were upset that the food you'd spent hours cooking was now cold. Plus the fact that he was late. You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him right now.
The bouquet looked stunning. It was all your favorite flowers and some additional ones. Ones that reminded Phainon of you, you assumed. With your heart softening up for him, you sigh as you accept the flowers. In which his eyes practically light up as you do so. If he had a tail, it would be wagging excitedly by now.
"Does that mean you forgive me, Dawnlight? I promise I won't do it again! I'm so sorr—"
His ramblings are then met by you, catching his lips in a kiss to shut him up. Not that he was complaining, he practically melted immediately under your touch.
At least he didn't forget, and now he's in your arms once more.
HIII Hope your doing good!!! I was just wondering if I could request a Kuroo one. Just something with the idea of the reader getting flustered too easy and we all know Kuroo's a big nerd but he's also a lil bit cocky and LOVES the affect he has. What the reader doesn't know, is that she's got the same affect over him but she does it involuntarily. TEHEHEHEH thanks for blessing us with such good writing and have a great day!!!
OMG NO, THANK U!! THIS FITS HIM SM
synopsis: kuroo thinks he’s the master of flustering you—until he realizes you’re just as good at wrecking him without even trying.
kuroo tetsurō x f!reader
category: fluff fluff fluff!
i drew atsumu in my art style and he looks awfully like that one bee, help 😮💨
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
it starts the same way it always does: kuroo leaning against your desk like he owns it, his hair doing that gravity-defying thing, smirk tugging at his lips like he knows something you don’t.
“so,” he drawls, dropping his chin into his hand and narrowing his eyes in mock-seriousness, “are you free later, or should i pencil myself in between your tragic habit of overstudying and your equally tragic lack of social life?”
“t-tragic lack—hey!” you stammer, whipping your head up from your notes. your ears are already hot. he hasn’t been here for thirty seconds.
that’s the thing about kuroo tetsurō: he lives to see you stutter. your flustered face is basically his currency. the more you trip over your words, the richer he feels. and right now, judging by the smug look on his face, he’s basically a billionaire.
“don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, glaring at him. it would’ve been intimidating if your face wasn’t as red as a tomato.
“like what?” he tilts his head, voice dropping just slightly. oh, he’s enjoying this way too much. “like you’re about to explode just because i sat here? can’t help it, kitten. it’s the effect i have.”
kitten. he called you kitten. you’re never going to survive this semester.
“you’re insufferable.” you shove your notebook at his chest, and kuroo catches it effortlessly, grinning like you just handed him a trophy.
‘she shoved her notebook into me, there was only a small barrier so that means she touched my chest, will she notice if i moan?’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
see, what you don’t know is that kuroo isn’t nearly as untouchable as he pretends to be.
because when you push your hair back absentmindedly while concentrating? gone. when you laugh so hard you nearly snort? destroyed. when you look at him—really look at him, like he’s not the biggest pain in your ass but someone you actually like? he’s a goner.
and when anyone else makes you smile like that? he feels it. deep. sharp. something twisting in his chest that he has to mask with a grin and a sarcastic jab. no one else should make you laugh that way. that’s his job.
but you don’t realize any of that, so kuroo gets to keep playing his favorite game: “how many shades of red can i make her turn before lunch break?”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“you’re staring again,” you tell him one afternoon, peeking at him over the edge of your textbook.
“i stare at a lot of things,” he shoots back smoothly. “like volleyballs. or cats. or beautiful people who keep pretending they’re not into me.”
you choke on your water. kuroo immediately pats your back, way too pleased with himself. “careful, kitten. don’t want you dying before our date.”
‘i’m touching her back, god help me.’
“w-we’re not—we’re not going on a date!”
“yet.”
he’s lucky you don’t throw the water bottle at his stupid perfect face.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
of course, kuroo’s carefully cultivated coolness doesn’t last forever. it never does.
“hey,” you say one evening, shoving a bento box at him. “you always forget dinner when you’re working on practice schedules, so… here.”
and just like that, the smug captain of nekoma high, self-proclaimed king of making-you-blush, absolutely combusts. he’s staring at the box like you just handed him your soul. which, in a way, you kind of did.
“you… made this?” he asks, and his voice is weirdly soft. you don’t even notice. you’re too busy fiddling with your pen.
“i mean, yeah. it’s nothing fancy. don’t make it weird.”
but kuroo’s already spiraling. you made him food. you thought about him. you care. suddenly he’s the one flustered, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.
“thanks, kitten,” he says finally, and it’s way too earnest, way too genuine. and when you look up at him and smile? he nearly blacks out.
later, he stares at the empty box longer than he should, fingers tracing the edge like it’s some priceless artifact. no one else is allowed to have this. this little piece of you—it’s his.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
things escalate from there.
kuroo flirts like it’s his full-time job, sure. but then you accidentally knock the wind out of him by doing the simplest things: remembering how he takes his coffee, fixing the collar of his jersey before a game, saying “you’ll do great” with that tiny proud smile that makes his chest ache.
he teases you until you’re covering your face in embarrassment. and then he has to go hide behind his hands five minutes later because you laughed at one of his dumb science jokes and called him “kind of cute when you nerd out.”
kuroo is not okay.
sometimes, when you’re not paying attention, he’ll catch himself watching you like you’re the only person in the room. his teammates notice—of course they do.
“oi, captain,” yamamoto snickers one day during practice, “you’re drooling again.”
kuroo smacks the back of his head, ears pink. “shut it before i bench you.”
but he doesn’t deny it.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
“you know, for someone who claims they’re not interested,” he tells you one afternoon, leaning back on the bench with that lazy grin, “you sure do act like my girlfriend sometimes.”
“excuse me?!” you sputter. “i literally just handed you a pencil!”
“yeah,” he says smoothly, twirling it between his fingers. “my pencil. given to me by my doting, thoughtful, completely smitten—”
“shut up!”
he chuckles, satisfied. but then you shoot back without thinking:
“if i’m so smitten, why are you the one staring at me right now?”
silence.
you blink. kuroo blinks. his smirk falters for just a second before he bursts into laughter, dragging a hand down his face like you just killed him.
“kitten,” he wheezes, leaning into your shoulder, “don’t do that to me. you’ll kill me faster than i can kill you.”
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
practice runs late one night, the gym quiet except for the squeak of sneakers and the thud of volleyballs. you’re waiting for him outside, scrolling through your phone. kuroo notices before anyone else that you’re there, and his chest does this stupid fluttery thing that he masks with a sigh.
“you didn’t have to wait for me,” he says when he comes out, towel slung around his neck.
“well, i did,” you reply simply. “so hurry up before i freeze.”
he grins, but there’s something desperate beneath it. the thought of you waiting out here for anyone else—walking home with someone else—it gnaws at him. he shoves the thought away by offering his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you can argue.
“you look better in it anyway,” he mutters, too quick, too sharp, like he’s not sure if he wants you to hear it. but you do. and you’re red all over again.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
his teammates start whispering. fukunaga smirks every time he catches kuroo lingering by your desk. yamamoto asks loudly if he’s going to “finally confess already.”
“confess what?” you ask once, half-annoyed, half-curious.
“nothing,” kuroo cuts in before yamamoto can open his mouth, shooting him a glare so sharp yamamoto literally yelps and hides behind kenma. kuroo turns back to you with his most charming smile. “ignore him. he’s an idiot.”
but later, alone in his room, kuroo finds himself replaying it. confess what. confess everything. the way he needs your attention like oxygen, the way your laugh reroutes his heartbeat, the way he wants to lock every version of you into his arms or his room so no one else can get close enough to notice how wonderful you are.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
it happens during a study session, of all places. your notes are spread out on the floor, kuroo sprawled next to you pretending to help but mostly distracting you.
“focus,” you scold, flicking his forehead.
“i am focused,” he says, leaning closer. “just not on chemistry.”
“then what are you—” you cut off when you realize how close his face is to yours. you can feel his breath. see the way his eyes drop briefly to your lips before darting back up.
“on you,” he finishes softly, grin faltering just enough to show you he means it.
you freeze, heart hammering, while kuroo’s pulse is racing out of control. for once, there’s no teasing lilt to his voice, no playful smirk. just raw honesty wrapped in his usual cockiness.
“kuroo—” you start, but he cuts in, voice low, rushed, like he’s been holding this in too long.
“i like you. i’ve been driving myself insane trying to play it cool, but i can’t. you’ve got me wrecked, y/n. you always have.”
his hand finds yours before you can think to pull away. warm, certain, trembling just a little.
your face is burning, words tangled in your throat. “you—you can’t just—”
“i can,” he says, lips quirking up again, but softer this time. “and i did. so now it’s your turn to say something before i actually lose my mind.”
silence stretches, heavy and fragile, until finally, you whisper:
“you’re unbelievable.”
“that’s not an answer,” he teases, though his heart is pounding.
“i like you too, stupid.”
before you can blink, kuroo leans in and kisses you. it’s clumsy at first, all nerves and racing heartbeats, but then his hand comes up to cup your cheek and it melts into something warm, certain, dizzying. when he pulls away, he’s grinning like he just won the championship.
“finally,” he murmurs, forehead pressing against yours.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
later, when he walks you home, his jacket still around your shoulders, kuroo thinks that maybe he’s not the master of this game after all. maybe you’ve been winning from the start.
and honestly? he doesn’t mind losing to you forever.
still, as he watches you disappear into your house, kuroo can’t help the thought that creeps in, dark and certain:
he’ll never let anyone take you away from him. but hey, if anyone tries; he always has some space in his backyard.
Giyuu literally wrote to Urokodaki "i did smth illegal as a demon slayer and as a hashira but i ll send said illegal thing to you so that you can be part of it AND risk your life for it as a demon slayer and as a hashira" and Urokodaki just wrote back "bet"
Like Giyuu had his doubts about himself and all that depressed shit but him and Urokodaki were like this 🤞🏻
hot chocolate negotiations — you make hot chocolate together but he keeps stealing sips from your mug because “yours tastes better. - with tomioka giyuu
the kitchen was quiet except for the soft simmer of warm milk and the gentle clink of spoons. giyuu stood beside you, sleeves rolled up, carefully stirring the cocoa like it was some solemn ritual instead of a simple winter drink.
you slid your own mug across the counter, adding a little extra chocolate, a little extra sweetness. he watched with quiet curiosity, eyes following every movement.
“yours always looks nicer,” he murmured.
you smiled. “that’s because i’m a professional.”
he didn’t argue as he took his mug when you handed it to him and lifted it for a cautious sip. steam curled around his face, softening the usual seriousness in his expression.
you brought your mug to your lips. only for giyuu to suddenly lean in and steal a sip from yours instead.
you blinked. “tomioka?”
he didn’t even look guilty. “yours tastes better.”
“you haven’t even tried your own yet.”
he considered this. then, instead of drinking from his mug, he took another small sip from yours. his face stayed as unreadable as ever, but the tiniest spark of satisfaction warmed his eyes.
you nudged him gently. “you know you can make your own like mine, right?”
“this is easier,” he said, voice soft and matter-of-fact. but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him, like he knew exactly what he was doing and was pretending not to.
you leaned your hip against the counter. “you just like drinking from my mug.”
he went still. “it’s warm,” he said finally.
“mmhm.”
“and it smells good.”
“sure.”
he hesitated, then admitted in a quiet voice, “and it’s yours.”
that part came out almost too quiet to hear. you felt your chest tighten, warmth settling somewhere deep. you held the mug out to him with both hands. “here. have another.”
his fingers brushed yours as he accepted it, carefully. he took a slow sip this time, closing his eyes like he was memorizing the taste. when he opened them again, the softness there was unmistakable.
“thank you,” he whispered.
you stepped closer, letting your shoulder rest against his. “you don’t have to thank me. just don’t drink all of it.”
he looked at you, dead serious. “i make no promises.”
then, with a gentleness that melted straight through you, he stole another sip.
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