🏡 What would happen if our best boys moved into your building? What kind of next-door neighbor would they be?
A collection of fluff one-shots starring YOU + GOM, Taiga and whoever you want (let me know in DMs and comments). The stories assume that the guys are adults (25-30 years old) and so are you. For each story I also came up with a small mood board, so I can practice making the blog visually more pleasing (let me know if my choices are consistent in your opinion!).
📮Comments, criticism, sharing and like are so appreciated!📮
Follow the #knbhousewarming or #housewarmingbyvesper to find all the entries, or just go under the cut and select your best boy!
Love always,
V.
-> more knb stories here 🏀
💋PS: If any of you amazing authors would like to contribute with original work to this series, that would be a dream for me. Please send me the link and tag me so I won’t miss any stories, and use the #knbhousewarming , as the platform sometimes gets crazy.
💣PPS: I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language (bear with me!).
after that charming prince Akashi, here I am back with the next birthday boy on the calendar, the dearest lion king Taiga . 🦁
I imagined him to be a fireman in a big city and like all firemen to me he is a superhero, but with a unique superpower: being a big softie.
🎊I know he's gaining a year on the 2nd August, but ... Every day is worth a celebration!
Happy birthday Taiga! 🎂🎁
I hope you enjoy this story too and thank you so much for all the support, comments, notes and advice you are giving me.
📮Comments, criticism, sharing and like are so appreciated!📮
Follow the #knbhousewarming or #housewarmingbyvesper to find all the entries, or just ask for a tag I’d be glad to add you.
Who’s gonna be next? (💙hint: Vesper's personal demon). If you prefer a different Knb boy, let me know!
Love always,
V.
💋PS: If any of you amazing authors would like to contribute with original work to this series, that would be a dream for me. Please send me the link and tag me so I won’t miss any stories, and use the #knbhousewarming , as the platform sometimes gets crazy.
💣PPS: I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language (bear with me!).
➿Genre: fluff, slice of life, one shot.
🏡 Housewarming Masterlist🏡
West Loop Chicago, Illinois
Friday, 13:45 ( ET+1).
A mild September afternoon.
No, no, no, and no.
Not again.
Not again at that very moment, when he had just got back from a backbreaking two days of fireman special training to cope with natural disasters.
Yet, even that time, the delivery man had rung the wrong bell.
When he had moved into that lake-view apartment building, a few weeks earlier, it had even seemed a brilliant idea to protect the privacy of the tenants by coding their identities. That was before he knew you were so careless that you registered on your fave meal delivery app 354, his apartment, but lived at 345.
A tiny slip, if only you had fixed it in time.
But.
You hadn't even bothered to change it, so much so that Taiga felt obliged to notify you promptly if he was late, or had plans that would take him out of town, because he knew you would starve to death waiting for a delivery guy, who would never find you.
Pizza, fried food, frozen food, ice cream, your food plan was all there.
Today the menu included yet another greasy sandwich with half a litre of bubble tea to go with it, which of course he had come down to collect, like a good valet.
How could a human be eating so badly, and be so healthy and attractive, he had not yet understood. Yet your shiny hair, flawless skin, your hips that widened gently over your legs and your firm, round bottom, told him daily otherwise.
You were a nuisance, but you were his kind of nuisance.
He had started to feel something different for you, shortly after you two met one morning in July. An impromptu lunch in your kitchen, during which you even managed to burn the ready meal you were supposedly heating.
Black smoke, the microwave gone berserk and you, hiding behind his back. Your small hands clinging to his shirt, as if he were the only one who could defend you, your plump body pressed so nicely against his muscular back, your sensuous, soft breasts rubbing his arms’ skin.
"Good thing you're the best fireman in town!" you'd even had the nerve to tease him shortly after, perching beside him on the counter, while he was trying to cook something edible for both.
He had to force himself to keep his attention on the simple vegetable omelette he was preparing, because his eyes were relentlessly drawn to your summer dress rising dangerously towards your thighs with every movement, to your lips so red and luscious as you spoke to him, to your feet 'accidentally' ending up against his jeans, with the only intent to annoy him. In his desires, you’d ask him for kisses in exchange for utensils, like an adorable brat looking for trouble and attention, and he would have liked to let the meal burn so that you would be his meal, but... This was a fantasy that maybe sooner or later would be fulfilled.
Or at least that was what he told himself every time.
That's why he was now ringing the doorbell of flat 345 with a plastic bag in his hands, instead of throwing himself on his bed and sleep until tomorrow.
When you hear a knock, you put your PC in standby and run to the door, no matter if you are still in your nightgown, because it will either be Miss. Greskin asking you to turn down the music, or that annoying building manager delivering your monthly notices.
Luckily it's him instead. Your tall, fierce, bold, perfect neighbour.
You are relieved to see him after two days he was missing somewhere in the mountains to train with his superhero firebrigade gang, that's why you smile a little more when you see him, not because you like him that way.
"So you're back safe and sound!" you greet him cheerfully, noticing his annoyed expression as he follows you, placing your lunch dangerously close to the computer, grumbling something about the fact that he has provided for your survival this time too.
"You're right, my bad! I promise I'll change that setting tonight at the latest!" you swear, approaching him with your hands raised to show all your good intentions, offering to share your lunch to make it up.
"I'm not even thinking about eating that crap!" he replies piqued, throwing himself into a chair.
"You're old, Taiga!" you torment him, mussing his hair as you step behind him, to fetch water and a cool drink from the fridge to offer him. He stretches his gaze, and if for a moment you think he's checking your bottom, his words bring back a far more pragmatic reality.
"How can you have an empty fridge if you're always at home? Don't you ever get hungry while working?" he asks you, raising his shoulders.
"Luckily you're here, my hero! " you smile, retrieving a chair and placing yourself beside him, before closing your lips on the straw of your bubble tea, under his disgusted gaze.
"Seriously, you should learn to cook at least the bare minimum, you can't expect to feed yourself on rubbish all your life" he explains, and suddenly you know he is really worried about you.
"Shut up, I have asked you a thousand times to teach me, but you never have enough time!" you tease him, leaning on his arm, too bad that, when he looks at you proudly and smiles, you can't figure out what name to give to the strange feeling running through your mind. Luckily he doesn't even seem to notice, caught up as he is in the excitement of that new adventure.
"Get dressed and let's go, before you change your mind!" he informs you resolutely, and you widen your eyes.
"Go where, Taiga?" you ask him, astonished.
"To the grocery store, where else, dummy?" he replies, finishing his drink in one gulp.
You had never noticed.
Not that it was any of your business, not that you cared, but since when had Kagami become a women's magnet? You could feel the lust waves passing you by, as their curious glances lingered on that handsome red-haired boy, his body so muscular and attractive, his masculine face with its lively and incredibly expressive eyes.
How could they be unaware that he was shopping with a girl, and be so brazen as to ask him for advice on certain products, besides the great old classic of retrieving anything from the top shelves? Yet, contemptuous of your livid glances, this army of wenches continued their mission undeterred. It's just a pity that the target of so much effort didn't even realise it, caught up as he was in his eagerness to select for you the best ingredients for his famous cold soba with tempura. Assuming that was indeed what he had told you you would prepare, since, out of anger, you had not listened to half a word of everything he had told you at the grocery shop .
Kagami hadn't even noticed that anything had happened to upset you, yet seeing your turned gaze to the floor, he couldn't stop wondering if he had been the cause of that sudden swing in your mood.
"Put this on, sous chef, and let's get to work!" he had smiled at you, pointing to an apron on the light wood table in his kitchen.
Too bad you weren't listening, but still looking out the window, deep in thought. You didn't even see him approaching, until his hand rested between your shoulder blades, slowly caressing you, causing you to wince.
"What's wrong?" he had asked you, remaining silent until you had turned your eyes to him and realized you could never explain in words everything you were feeling.
You had seen his travel bag at the entrance, his uniform just picked up from the wardrobe at the fire station thrown on the couch, probably because he had to run to the building entrance to pick up your lunch, all because you were too lazy to change a stupid app setting.
He was a firefighter, he saved lives for a living and in his spare time he perfected his mission at the best of his ability. He gave everything he had, every single day of his life, unlike you, who were so selfish and shallow that you didn't even know how to provide for your basic needs. So much so that you became his problem, another person to save, not from the fire but from yourself.
"Don't make me worry" he tells you, putting his back to the window so that all your eyes can see it's his figure, made even more lusty by the contrast with the soft light of the sun preparing to set.
"I'm sorry" you sigh as you watch his large hands shed the apron he had brought you, dropping it on the floor "For deliveries, for always making you unnecessarily tired, because I can't do anything myself and..." and then you say nothing more as those large, warm hands close on your back and pull you close, until your head rests gently on his chest.
"I like taking care of you, you know? I like having someone to come back to in the evening, to chat with and relax. I like coming home and rewarding you because you didn't burn down the whole building trying to make tea " he explains, stroking your hair. "You're a mess, but I train hard for disasters like you" he smiles, heedless of your scowl.
"It's not funny" you smile at him, because you can't stand to sulk any longer.
"Yes it is" he retorts promptly, lowering himself onto you, glueing his eyes to yours.
"Shut up!" is the last thing you say to him, before you welcome his mouth close to yours, his lips on yours. In your mind you thank the heavens because even though you are a lazy, somewhat spoiled girl, you are also lucky.
Thank you to everyone who supports me in this adventure, especially because it is a struggle to read a very long and detailed story. As always, advice, criticism and requests are welcome. Drop me a line if you want to be tagged !
Happy reading!
Masterlist chapters:
[1+2], [3]
Tags: @aizumie, @storyhuntress13
'Try it now,' says the middle-aged man in lab coat and gloves with a skeptical expression.
You run your hands over the keyboard and the sound spreads powerful, round and clear throughout your room, but when you reach D major something still doesn't sound as it should.
"It's that damn new hammer that doesn't want to work," he explains, pulling a large, hook-headed screwdriver from his pocket, "Ah, but as soon as Kenta arrives it'll all be ok," he concludes, smiling.
"Thank you so much, I was told it was impossible to fix " you confess him, resting your fingers on the lacquered surface.
"As with anything, it just needs a little extra attention and someone who knows what he' s doing" he nods playing the keys on the right "These are fine, let's wait for my nephew and then it will be as good as new" he concludes satisfied.
"Mr Naoto, how about a matcha?" you ask him and he willingly agrees, following you downstairs.
"This house reminds me of my childhood in Hokkaido" he tells you, stroking the oak kitchen table "It's rare to find such a well-kept building and someone who still knows how to make a good matcha" he tells you, raising his cup in gratitude.
You smile at him and just as you are about to thank him you hear someone knocking at the door.
"I'm Kimura Kenta, ma'am!" he announces immediately and you can't hold back a smile, partly because of the unnecessary formality of his tone, partly because even you weren't that insecure with strangers at his age.
"Hi Kenta, nice to meet you. Would you like something to drink? Some matcha?" you ask him, leading him to the table where his grandfather is already putting on his gloves.
"He only drinks those sugary konbini drinks, he doesn't even know what matcha tastes like" the adult interjects, making the poor boy blush.
"Some of them aren't that bad" you interject but realise the conversation has already been interrupted and follow the two men upstairs, giving the younger man permission to enter your bedroom and sit wherever he wants.
Kenta looks lost, a victim of the shame it causes him to be in the room of a girl a little older than him for the first time: his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatshirt, his eyes to the ceiling and from there to the windows and back to his feet when he realises you are watching him.
You would like to say something to help him, but your intervention would mean endorsing his grandfather's description of him: brilliant in studies and sports but mediocre with the female sex.
"As beautiful as you are, he won't say a word to you, now guys don't have courage anymore, they're absorbed in social media where everything is easier!" finishes Naoto removing the lid from the piano and asking you to bring the light closer while he is already immersed in his world.
"Are you in any club?" you ask, approaching Kenta who takes a step backwards and almost falls onto your bed, drawing your attention to a package you hadn't noticed and which falls to the floor, leaving only a white envelope on the bedspread with your name written in long kanji.
"I'm sorry... I... " he stammers, lifting the gift from a corner, causing the thin tissue to tear open, letting out the contents, which the boy retrieves on the fly, bringing back a smile and his voice.
"How cool is that? Vorpal Swords!" he exclaims at the top of his lungs, lifting the red and white t-shirt with two hands to read the number "It's Aomine's jersey from the Vorpal Swords!!!" he continues, looking at you as if he has discovered the treasure of an ancient culture "Aomine Daiki!" he repeats, too high on his feet to notice your astonished expression.
"And who would that be?" grandpa interrupts him, turning away, probably annoyed by all the fuss.
"Only the greatest basketball player in Japan!" his grandson replies piqued, continuing to cradle his precious, laying it on the bed to better admire it and wondering how you got it.
"We're childhood friends," you manage to say, before turning around to find the tuner's stinging eyes on your face.
"Tall, tanned, blue-eyed, dark-haired and the son of a magistrate?" he asks you seriously, as if drawing up a sketch of a dangerous serial killer.
You nod, as Kenta begins to find his grandfather's words interesting.
"He came by this morning. We spoke, he's friendly. Having said that, stop messing around or I won't be able to finish before dinner,' he concludes, turning his back and resuming his work in silence, amidst the protests of the boy.
"Why don't you come with me to the konbini,Kenta? Let's buy something then stay for dinner" you interject, sure that an argument would break out between the two men shortly.
"Will you tell me about Aomine?" the young man asks.
"I'll tell you everything, if you help me cook," you answer him, earning a grateful look from Naoto.
You look up at the sky beginning to turn the red tones of sunset, seek out the intersection with the kindergarten, and shortly afterwards the green and red neon sign of the neighbourhood supermarket appears to you, pale in its tiredly flickering neon.
Next to you Kenta is listing a number of dishes you can prepare with minimal effort, then attracted like a moth by the light, he stops at the vending machine to get a grape juice.
"Want some?" he tells you, uncorking the can and offering you the first sip.
You shake your head and look at him tenderly, because suddenly you are 15 years old too and you are back with your childhood friend having ice lolly at konbini at the end of a hot summer day.
"You know Aomine, how cool is that?! What's he like? Is it true he has a bad temper?" he tells you after drinking the can in one go and wiping his hands in his trousers.
"He is stubborn, fickle, annoying and tremendously lazy" you tell him with a smile "But he is the most loyal person I know, a really good friend. And like you, he hates bitter things" you conclude by showing the young man a goya, arousing his immediate disgust.
"How did you two meet?" he asks, lifting the shopping basket from your hands.
"You must know Kuroko Tetsuya from Seirin" you tell him getting a nod "Well, Tetsu's mum was my first music teacher. Momoi, Tetsu and I spent many afternoons together before basketball came into their lives. We were inseparable at the time of Teiko. I met Aomine-kun soon after starting middle school. He was the new kid from the block whom my grandmother invited over to play with us and he became my friend and then member of the miracle generation," you conclude, taking a piece of tofu.
"What a freaking monster!" the other comments, catching a stern look from you.
"Daichan is neither a freak or a monster, he just has exceptional talent,' you correct him, noticing only later the change in your tone of voice, which suddenly became sharp.
You stretch out a hand to Kenta's forearm but he's already distracted as a group of boys he knows call his name.
You watch him walk away, and head for the cooler to get a couple of cans of grape juice and some wine for Mr Naoto, pass the tea rack and a little further on to find the magazine stand. You run your fingers over the covers of the men's magazines with their alluring pictures of lingerie-clad idols and choose one to give him, sure you're doing him a good service for the little wrong you've done.
"The magazines you bring me are the ones that give me the most pleasure, if you know what I mean!"
You can still see the shameless look on his face as he receives the monthly from your hands in front of the whole team, amused by even trying to put you on the spot.
"As if you ever could Daichan" you think out loud, paying the bill to an astonished shop assistant.
You step out of the shop and are immediately enveloped in the humid, hot cloak of the summer evening, sure that the little group was keeping an eye on you, considering the hubbub that your approach intensifies.
Kids with hormones skyrocketing, staring at your sundress as if it could slip off you at any moment.
"Kenta-kun can we go home? It's so hot," you chirp, slipping your fingers between his as you hand him the little bag with the groceries.
"Y-yes" he nods like an android, but at least you move quickly away from his friends.
He doesn't say a word all the way to the front door, but he turns often and smiles at you, happy that you are so amused by the whole dynamic. In the bright kitchen of your grandmother's house, you watch him chop vegetables as he tells you about his shyness that keeps him from asking the girl of his dreams out, his constantly feeling like a failure to Naoto and his father, and thanking you for giving him some credibility with the group of the most popular boys in school.
"We've all been there, you know? We've all been afraid of being invisible in the eyes of our loved ones,' you tell him, intercepting his doubtful gaze.
"Everyone. Your grandfather, your father, me, even your hero Aomine. You're confused, and that's normal because you're young, but if you keep pretending not to understand, I'll have to beat you up! " you repeat, threatening him with a large metal spoon.
Kenta laughs and shrugs his shoulders, before saying something that surprises you.
"Aomine is a basketball genius, but he's a fool if he never noticed you," he says, placing the knife on the cutting board.
"I can hide well" you to reply with a tired smile, as from the stairs his grandfather's voice calls you back upstairs.
After almost three hours of extra work, Naoto gives you a smile when he hears the voice of your piano fully restored by his expert hands singing the notes your hands teach him. You sit at the oak kitchen table and Kenta gets compliments on the excellent food he has prepared. You look just like any other family, too bad that's not the case. Standing in the doorway, you greet the man and surreptitiously hand the boy his gift, the only way to convince his idol to show up at the gym, and he hugs you happily, unaware of the contents of the canvas bag.
You close the heavy door and all the cheerfulness dies down in an equally heavy silence.
You clear the kitchen, rinse the dishes and cutlery and cover a yawn with one hand, tired of carrying all the day's load over your shoulders. Outside the kitchen window the sky is dark and the windows of the nearby houses are lit up, a sign that it is time to take a bath and go to bed.
You retrieve your mobile phone, which vibrates briefly in your suit pocket, notifying you of the arrival of an e-mail with the subject line 'That annoying guy from Kyoto'.
You smile and feel a pleasant sensation of warmth flush your cheeks because that gesture at that moment means everything: you never know what to expect from him, but you also know that he will never let you down.
You reach your room, sit down on the piano bench and take a picture of yourself with the dark instrument behind and, as per his request, you tell him about your day, reading the story of his several times to try to pick up some details to bring into your dreams.
You move the sheets but that red spot prevents you from getting into bed.
You pick up the jersey and its tissue, roughly fold the garment and lock it in the wardrobe, tear the wrapping into small pieces and move towards the bed to do the same with the unopened envelope that accompanied them, but a part of you can't resist curiosity.
You sit up, breaking the seal and tearing open the envelope, which reveals a card on which his chaotic, swift and messy handwriting writes you a few, simple words.
Happy birthday babe.
Until our next game, wildchild.
When Sei had told you that he had your old piano tuned up so that you could train, you had not foreseen that you would have a house party, a party at which the main guest was missing.
