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missameliep · 10 days ago

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Title: In a Little Book Shop - Part 1

Book: Desire & Decorum AU

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x Hayley Parker (OC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: ~3k

Summary: Ernest Sinclaire inherited his father’s little bookshop at London and, for the last decade, is used to the uneventful routine of a shopkeeper until a mysterious woman walks in and changes everything.

A/N: English is not my native language; there's one swear word; the poetry in bold blue letters are from Pablo Neruda's Poema 14 from "Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada"; and Hayley Parker is @rosesnink's OC and I'm borrowing her.

Noe, I hope I did Hayley justice. This is just a silly little idea I had, and now I'm sharing it with you.

The Brahms’ piece playing in the back of the store swells in crescendo to a loud forte, almost muffling the sharp sound of the ancient brass bell at the door.

Like every other Tuesday afternoon, at 3 o’clock sharp, the deliveryman walked in. Head bobbing to the music playing into that gigantic white headset he never takes off, today he was carrying only one brown box that almost matched the shade of the company’s uniform.

The man nodded to Ernest Sinclaire, who had been sprucing up the counter for the past forty minutes, despite it already looking neat when he started or the fact that less and less customers have stopped by these past weeks. Not to mention most of the people who did cross the threshold were solely interested in the shop’s AC. With the heatwave, people certainly have fled London, he keeps telling himself.

But he could be wrong.

Printed books might have gone out of fashion this season like some insist.

The situation has been so critical, he’s been considering his friend Bart’s suggestion of turning part of the antique bookshop into a cafeteria.

‘A book ‘slash’ coffee shop. It’s trending', the man often says. However, Ernest is less than thrilled with the idea of fiddling with the antique shelves his father dedicated so many hours and love to restore years ago. Except for the improvement in the acclimatization and the profusion of autobiographies, the shop looks exactly like it did at its inauguration day in 1816. The framed lithographs in the entrance testify of the superb work.

Almost bouncing, the deliveryman quickly crossed the distance between them, not sparing a second glance around, which Ernest always considers a shame. Does he even realize this bookshop has outlived 7 kings and 2 queens?

Putting down a box with the handmade bookmarks commissioned to the talented artist Annabelle Parssons, Ernest signed the electronic receipt and took the brown box from the deliveryman’s hand. After the usual polite but wordless interaction, the man left. He was alone again when. The only sounds on the store from the first notes of one of Chopin’s nocturnals and the pens pushed aside to reach the pair of scissors in the top drawer.

Like always, he unpacked and carefully inspected the content of the box. Taking one by one, he examines the book covers, searching for any sign of damage. This time the box is filled to the brim with several copies of two cookbooks that trend whenever another season of the Great British Bake Off starts.

Cookbooks and travel guides are the best-selling items. Despite his personal opinions, he won’t complain if they keep the businesses going. Occasionally a customer after them might accept one or two of his recommendations or be drawn by the siren’s call of one of the poetry books or new authors he strategically places around the store.

It happened to that young Spanish writer whose thrilling debut fantasy trilogy became the hit of the store last Christmas. He’s not ashamed to admit he had his friend Bart rambling about the story whenever a new customer arrived nor the way he made use of the beautiful art of the cover. Some of the customers were instantly drawn to the fiery red head in the cover – he cannot blame them though, since he was mesmerized by the heroine’s beauty himself – but most of them returned merely days later to buy the other books. Which reminds him to write a note to himself to place an order for more copies of the author’s new trilogy.

A fit of laughter from a small child outside draws his attention from the paper and he smiles. His gaze follows the kid and the middle-aged woman holding their hand until they disappear after passing the large side window. The store’s location in the corner of two busy streets is privileged and is a perfect spot for people watching.

Across the street, a pair of young women, who look too young to be drinking, linger by the pub’s door, and a group of teenagers walk past the door but don’t look twice at the windows. They are probably going to the ice-cream parlour two stores down.

Keeping himself busy, he takes the recently arrived box. While moving some books aside to give space to the new ones without messing the systematic alphabetical and subject order, a copy of The Tucci Cookbook slips from his hand, hitting the ground with a dull thump. Kneeling to pick it up, a glimpse of someone outside catches his attention. An indistinct mass of blonde hair moves quickly, almost running. A second later, the bell rings sharply and hits the base producing a long higher pitched sound, like it does whenever someone opens the door with too much force.

“For fuck’s sake!” The angry feminine voice startles him. There’s some mumbling while the door closes with a soft click.

From where he is knelt, he only catches a glimpse of a pair of high heeled black leather boots, which is a rather unusual choice for a scorching day like this. The heels click sharply against the wooden tiles, while she moves around the store.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he speaks to make his presence acknowledged, while pulling himself up and returning the book to the appropriate place.

Moving around the box, he finally comes face to face with the woman, who had just removed an ash blonde wig from her head and was trying to shove it inside a small studded leather backpack.

The woman’s hair is dark and glued to the head with a mix of sweat and some kind of greasy product, and her makeup is heavy, covering her face almost like a mask. The long and thick fake eyelashes look like spider legs and it’s hard to even distinguish the colour of her eyes. Not that he is trying to, of course. It was a polite gaze. Not even a gaze; barely a glimpse that allowed him to acknowledge the bright enticing eyes.

Dressed all in black – black tank top, black sequin leggings, black heeled boots –, she looks like one of the artists that perform in The Club at Margaret Street. Even her lips are painted in a shade of ripe plum, almost black. If she’s one of the famous ones and is trending on Spotify or whatever is cool this week, he definitely cannot tell. Or maybe she’s just another TikToker committed to the art of making the most entertaining videos according to Bart, who often shoves the mobile into his nose to show the next Amy Winehouse, and wants to revel on the AC. As long as she doesn’t mess with the books and at least buy a bookmark, he’s fine with it.

The woman zips up the bag and shoots him an inquisitive look.

“Cat ate your tongue?” she asks and there’s a lilt of laughter in her tone. His gaze meets hers, and she looks pleased with his reaction and not offended, even though he’s been silent for impolitely long.

His first guess might be right. She’s probably famous and he’s pulling a William Thacker again. And her eyes are brown in this light.

He straightens himself and clears his throat.

“Welcome to Ledford Park Bookshop. How can I help you, miss?”

“I’m buying a gift.”

“Anything in mind?”

“A book.”

Her wide teasing smile almost makes him smile, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his usual bookseller unbothered expression that some might mistake by grumpiness, which is not. It’s professional and he’s learned from past mistakes: smiling freely encourages idle conversation.

“I was thinking about poetry. Something sensual,” she speaks the last word with an accent. “Do you have anything?”

“The Erotica section is in the back.”

“Perfect!” she replies while looking over her shoulder at the window. There’s a hint of relief in her words and the sigh she let out, but perhaps he was mistaking it by the effects of the heat.

Her heels click rhythmically following him to the back of the store, and he stops himself from glancing over his shoulders and let’s his mind picture the way her hips sashay instead.

In a second, they’re surrounded by shelves dedicated to erotic poetry, art catalogues and a range of classic authors like Sappho and Ovid, to best-selling from the 20th century like Pablo Neruda.

A smug grin pulls at the corner of his mouth as she looks around, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. This is the most frequent reaction to the extensive collection. Just one of the many treasures that pleases the regular customers, who keep coming back for more books, more enlightening conversations, more ideas for their own books.

“Poetry is over there,” he points at the neatly arranged books on her right side.

Looking over her shoulder, she asks, “Any Spanish authors?”

Taking a deep breath to consider, his lungs are filled with her sexy and intoxicating perfume. It emanates from her body and hangs heavily in the air. His attention is caught by it like flies on spiderwebs. It takes all his willpower to remind himself of the question. To free himself from the web, he walks around her, trying to clear his mind, and his eyes settle on the section reserved to books written in Spanish, Italian and Portuguese.

“Are you familiar with Pablo Neruda?”

“He’s Chilean,” she corrects him without missing a beat.

“You are absolutely correct. Most people mean books written in Spanish, I simply assumed that’s what you meant... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she speaks bluntly, “I don’t walk around expecting recognition about my intellectual capacity or general culture. Especially not from men.”

She slowly and deliberately walks in front of him, glancing over her shoulder. There’s a menacing but also hypnotizing glow to her eyes, almost catlike, what it’s probably enhanced by the eyeliner, but mostly because her eyes resemble those of big felines one would see in wildlife’s documentaries, it’s the same look when they are ready to jump an antelope. And her big defying eyes are definitely grey.

With maybe hints of blue in this light.

She turns around and deliberately sashays back to him. Smiling, she takes the book from his hand. Her mouth curls into a smile, wide and showing her a hint of her teeth, and it makes her look prettier. Pretty. She’s pretty. Not enough to tempt him, but pretty enough to have people composing sonnets about long legs and shapely lips. Not him. He’s not thinking at all about how desirable her lips look.

Flipping through pages of the book, she starts reading one of the sonnets in perfect Spanish. But not any of them, she’s reading his favourite one.

When she changes language, her voice is melodious in an unexpected way, it loses the edge, every word sounds like coated in honey.

Entranced, Ernest cannot avert his gaze from her lips while she reads.

Mis palabras llovieron sobre ti acariciándote. Amé desde hace tiempo tu cuerpo de nácar soleado. Hasta te creo dueña del universo. Te traeré de las montañas flores alegres, copihues, Avellanas oscuras, y cestas silvestres de besos.

Before he realises, he’s reciting the verses with her, enunciating every word as clearly as he could.

Tilting her face up, her eyes flick from the page to his face. Her gaze burns his skin. She looks straight at him. Perhaps she’s looking straight to something hidden inside his eyes.

Her voice fades and he recites alone the last two verses.

Quiero hacer contigo Lo que la primavera hace com los cerezos.

Her expression changes, lighting up almost as if a treasure had been unearthed in front of her eyes.

“¡Guay! ¡Hablas Español!” she cries, and the next words flow quickly and excitedly from her lips, and he cannot follow them at all, except for a few of the nouns and pronouns. His knowledge of the language is practically non-existent: he poorly reads and can only speak a few sentences to save his life in case of a catastrophe.

“Sorry, I don’t. I only know some of Neruda’s poems by heart, and that’s one of them.”

He lowers his gaze, shame burning his cheeks and warming him more than the heatwave had done so far. His fingers go to the collar of his white shirt, and pull at it, loosening it slightly.

“For a moment, you could have fooled me.” Her words sound too flirty, almost daring.

Is it a dare? Would she want me to pretend?

Her lips twitch, pulling at the corners when she laughs. It’s impossible to look direct at her eyes, like one cannot look at an eclipse, risking burn their retinas. The intensity of her gaze probably does the same. His gaze wanders, then focus on the shelves, from one book spine to the next.

“Why learning the poems if you don’t speak the language?” Her long fingers run through the spines of books, stopping his contemplation. “Trying to impress the ladies?”

The silence stretches for a bit, giving him time to think; he stares at her, considering if she’d be truly interested in the truth.

“My father worked with publishing,” he started, and his voice did not falter or waver as it would years ago; it’s easier to speak about him, almost comforting as if planting these memories like seeds, they’d bloom... “Every summer I’d work a few days a week at the office... When I was fourteen, he was working on a collection of Neruda’s poems and... well, that’s it.”

“That's it? That's barely a story,” she laughed. “So, what happened? You memorised the poems to impress your father or something...?”

He shook his head and delved into the memories of the suffocating summer surrounded by manuscripts and heated arguments about the imagery invoked by the cherry trees. “Father was a man easy to please. I never felt the urge to impress him. It always seemed that being myself was enough...”

“Lucky you.” The hollow laugh that left her mouth startled him, but she recomposed herself. When she spoke again it wasn’t a question, but a statement, “Your father taught you about poetry.”

“He taught me most things, including the tragedy of translators ignoring the profound differences between cultures and the meaning lost in translation when the works is rushed, and one chooses literality over intent... I was probably too young at the time to truly understand all he was trying to say... But I noticed in Spanish the poems sounded...” he paused, searching for a word. “More poetic somehow... Melodic in a different way... And then I memorised this one. And plenty of others –”

“Which ones?” she cuts him off, and he’s about to answer – and Ernest suspects her feline eyes would compel him to answer questions until his throat was sore and his mind emptied of words – but the phone rang.

With a sigh, he excuses himself. “If you need any help, don’t hesitate in calling me.”

“I won’t.” The same expression from before returns, and so is the sharpness behind the words.

He walks behind the counter to take the call, and he can no longer see the woman; for once, he’s not worried about shoplifting.

The call takes longer than he wishes, and his patience almost runs out when the caller keeps inquiring about books’ covers that would match a specific shade of purple. The person doesn’t know the name of the author or genre, just that it's trending online.

He lets out a long exhale through his nose.

Any other day, this wouldn’t bother him, and he’d welcome the challenge, putting the phone down, he’d look around, like an archaeologist digging a site. But now he must go back to this one customer, because he needs to serve well. Nothing else.

“Maybe you should stop by. We’re open until 20:00.”

The person reluctantly thanks him and hangs up.

Ernest’s eyes search the monitor underneath the counter. She’s moved to the shelves on the side of the store, next to the psychology section, closer to Jung.

There’s a book close to her face, but her gaze is not on the pages.

“Have you changed your mind about the gift?” he asks softly trying not to startle her or sound pretentious but fails.

Her shoulders tense and heave with an intake of breath, before she turns around to look at him with an unreadable expression.

“Should I take the Neruda, or should I browse some more?” she asks breezily, one side of her mouth curled with a smirk, “I wonder if there’s something else more... suitable for my taste...”

“By all means,” he replies politely, “Feel free to look and see if there’s anything else, you’d prefer.”

“I definitely will.” She glides amongst the tall shelves closer to the window, then halts and looks at him over her shoulder. He was observing her, and his cheeks warm at being noticed.

“Our bestselling books are over that table,” he says and returns to the task of organizing cook books but still observes her.

Finally, her heels click as she comes to him.

“I know what I want,” she says casually, and the book in her hand passes to his hand.

Neruda.

Her fingers graze his, and his breath catches in his throat. He swallows hard the surprise. That’s the most human contact he’s had in several weeks, and it’s surprisingly pleasant. Not anything else. His heart is racing because he’s shocked. This entire interaction has been incredibly odd.

From the backpack, she takes a few notes to pay for the book. The money is placed in the counter, and so is the change. His attention is entirely focused on gift-wrapping the book, and not once he looks at her while doing it.

When the package is passed to her hand, she thanks him, says goodbye and leaves.

He never gets a name; but she lingers by the door and smiles pointedly at him before closing it. Surrounded by a cloud of her perfume, he wonders if it’s the last he’ll see of her.

Thanks for reading!

#desire and decorum au #ernest sinclaire #mr. sinclaire #mr. sinclaire x oc #oc: hayley parker #choices fanfic #desire & decorum au #desire & decorum #choices desire and decorum

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mlmxreader · 2 years ago

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Foundations | Tyler Durden x m!reader

anonymous asked: Tyler Durden with “I’m never enough” please?

summary: Tyler isn't used to being told no.

tws: swearing, mentions of sex (brief)

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

The soft light crept up the stairs in a dull golden haze, the muffled sounds of the television coming from the master bedroom, the scent of honey and apples drifting from the recently used bathroom; the taste of spices still lingered in the air from an earlier meal, as did the warmth that came with a recently used kitchen. Music.

Music was coming from the master bedroom, so sweet and so soft, yet the second that he realised what song was playing, he smiled; 'Hungry Like the Wolf' by Duran Duran. Oh, he had some fond memories of you connected to that song. He found himself humming as he climbed the stairs, the fifth one from the top creaking as usual.

Then there you were. Snuggled up in your bed, wearing one of his shirts, reading some old book about war that he didn't care enough to ask about; he didn't knock, just pulled the duvet back and took his place at your side.

"Tyler," you sounded almost disappointed. "I'm reading."

"And?" He scoffed.

"And," you put the book down, sighing as you shook your head. "I thought I made it clear - you're not to come back unless you really care about me."

Tyler leaned back, studying you for a moment; you couldn't be serious. You needed him, you desired him, you wanted him. You wouldn't push him away over something as trivial as feelings, he knew you wouldn't.

With his brows furrowed, he tilted his head to the side, daring to let out a sharp laugh. "You're not serious."

You nodded. "Deadly, Mister Durden."

Tyler huffed, bottom lip quivering slightly. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid," you growled. "Every time you come over, it's always for the same thing, and if you find a better man, then suddenly I don't exist for the night."

He shook his head. "It's not like that and you know it."

"I'm never enough for you," you told him. "So why don't you just leave? Huh? Why don't you go out and find a different guy and break his heart?"

Tyler clenched his jaw, daring to gently hold your face in his hands as he forced you to look into his pretty blue eyes; there used to be a time where just the smallest of touches from him sent shocks down your spine and made every nerve feel like it was on fire, there used to be a time where Tyler made you feel amazing, made you feel like you were on top of the world and invincible... now, he just made you feel regret. He made you feel a fool.

"I'm here, ain't I?" He hissed. "I could be out with any guy in the world right now, I could be fucking balls deep in any guy in the city if I wanted to. But I'm here."

"So why don't you leave?" You asked, pushing his wrist so that he let go of you. "Why don't you just fuck off?"

"Because I want to be here," he argued quietly. "With you."

"No," you shook your head, starting to push his shoulder to get some distance. "Tyler, this is the last time I ever let you in... you have to leave. Now."

"C'mon, baby," he huffed. "One more chance."

The last thing that you wanted was for him to make you feel like you were an idiot again; you knew that things with Tyler would always be jaded and cracked, too many niches and crevices that caused the foundations to start to crumble, but then... he was always there. Even at your lowest, he was there. He didn't just show up when you were in the mood, he showed up a lot more than that.

He bought you flowers, always bright yellow daffodils. He made you laugh. He cooked for you. He never cleaned, but at least he didn't make much of a mess when he stayed over. He didn't do his laundry but at least he didn't have much anyway. He never disrespected you to your face, never talked about you behind your back.

Maybe it was better to have crumbling foundations than none at all, where Tyler was concerned. Your fingertips were bloody and raw from holding onto those crumbling foundations for so long, but you... you couldn't bring yourself to let go.

You sighed, swiping a hand down your face. "I don't want to forgive you."

"You don't have to," Tyler purred, moving to straddle your waist, his hands on your chest as he splayed his fingers and gave you that cheeky grin that used to make you feel so alive. "Does it look like I'm about to ask for it?"

Your hands came to his waist, fingertips digging into his soft flesh as you swallowed thickly. "No. You never will, either."

"You're fucking right there," he nodded. "You gonna give me another chance?"

You clenched your jaw, hesitant to tell him and to admit it but you didn't want to let go of those foundations. No matter how stupid and regretful you felt, no matter how much your fingers bled and bruised, you couldn't bring yourself to let go. "Fine."

He started to lean down, expecting a kiss, but you placed your hand on his throat, pushed him back and kept him at arm's length. "Oh, baby."

"You're not getting shit," you told him sternly. "Tyler, you're not making me into a fucking fool again - if you really, really want me this badly, you have to prove it."

Tyler huffed, flopping onto his back beside you as he grumbled and folded his arms across his chest; it should have been so easy to win you back and to get you to stop acting stupid, but it seemed like you were suddenly immune to him. He wasn't sure what to do.

Nobody ever told him no, told him that he had to work for what he wanted; he only ever had to apply his charm a little thick to get what he want, and that included you, once upon a time. Maybe being around him so much made you more immune to it than others.

For once in his life, Tyler would actually have to work for what he wanted.

#mlem writes #tyler durden imagine #tyler durden x reader #tyler durden #fight club 1999 #fight club imagine #fight club x reader #fight club fanfic #fight club

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blackcatruse · 5 months ago

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𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: how far will you go to prove you were right? you pray this plays out how you need it to. word count: 3.2k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, implications of abuse, physical assault, attempted kidnapping, guns a/n: hi, i'm Ruse and i love beating up Reader for some reason. she can't catch a break, and it's my fault. i'm not apologizing for that. i didn't explicitly say this, but if i check your blog and it's ageless, blank, or you're under 18, it's an automatic block. the content of my blog will not always be suitable for all ages.

The early hours of the morning were probably your favorite time. People were usually asleep, only waking when the sky started changing colors. You adored watching the gradual transition of the rich midnight blues to a soft pink and orange. The stars would part for their king, the sun, and before long it would be the morning.

This was one of those mornings. The peace at odds with your racing heart, but you stayed put at the edge of the bridge, staring out over the sea. A cool breeze pushed your hair from your face and you closed your eyes. You let yourself be in the moment, hearing the gentle waves and the early call of birds. You could smell the salt of the ocean. The ground beneath you was cold, and the weathered posts of the bridge were rough against your shoulders. You clicked the lollipop in your mouth against your teeth, feeling the slight sensation and tasting the hint of sweetness.

Provided tonight went smoothly, you could return to this spot tomorrow and enjoy the peace for a little longer. You’d really pushed your luck with Suzaku, but the plan was set in motion. You got Kichiro and Hifumi to talk to their blackmailers and set up the deal. Both boys got back with you and explained that these men wanted the goods delivered to four separate warehouses. Someone would be there to meet the runners and that would be the end of the transaction. Except it wasn’t. You knew it was a trap.

You and three other top runners of Wuxing would take the drugs and try to be as unsuspecting as possible. From a distance, the Four Symbols would tail you and apprehend the culprits. Genbu was the one who’d be following you, since it was highly likely a prominent member would try to catch you unaware. You snorted, remembering the argument that broke out when you mentioned that Genbu would be following you.

“Don’t be so conceited,” someone snarled at you. You didn’t know what his alias was. Hato maybe? Whatever.

“Trust me, the chances of them sending more forces to the location they want me at is pretty high. I’m the one going the farthest from the pick up location. They want to isolate me. The rest of you have fairly close locations,” you said. “I really don’t want the spotlight here, but if we want to capture someone who knows something, Genbu should be tailing me.”

“Don’t get so bossy, Lotus,” Genbu grunted. “It doesn’t matter who follows you, they’ll end up in my hands regardless.”

“No, she has a point,” Suzaku stood up for you and you fought to keep your composure. “Lotus is arguably the most valuable pawn in this scheme. If she’s taken care of then Wuxing could be financially crippled. They’ll want to make sure she’s either dead or too broken to keep in this life. Genbu, your specialty revolves around catching weasels. Your team will be our best shot at grabbing someone important.”

Genbu returned Suzaku’s logic with a disinterested snort. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Okay. We’re all set for this operation?”

There was a ripple of nods and muffled sounds of agreement. After the meeting, you’d come over to this place to try and calm down. Tonight was going to be a pivotal moment in cracking this case. Whoever wanted to overthrow the Three Deities would hopefully be unveiled.

In the distance, you heard the purr of a motor. The biker stopped nearby and killed the engine. There were a few footsteps and a grunt as someone sat next to you. You were expecting company, but you didn’t want to acknowledge them yet.

“Yo, Lotus,” you heard Ran Haitani greet you.

You opened your eyes and glanced over at the beanpole next to you. “I’m surprised you were okay with waking up this early,” you commented. “You came alone? Where’s your shadow?”

Ran narrowed his eyes at you. “Rindou and I got caught up with some stuff last night. He needed to sleep.”

“How kind of you.” There was no hiding the bite to your words. Imagine that, having a brother who cared about you. You took a deep breath before asking, “What did you want to talk about?”

“We have a time and date estimate for the first job,” Ran said.

You raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“The projected date is at least two weeks away, so there’s time. Kakucho wants to scope out the cargo terminal in order to make the operation go smoother,” Ran said. “Unfortunately, he is busy running a gang while our representative starts fights with anyone who breathes in his direction. He’s entrusting the strategy to you.”

“Am I going alone or will it be you, me, and Rindou?” you asked.

“Neither, just you and Rindou.”

You couldn’t hide the brief look of disgust on your face fast enough. Ran remained blank faced. You looked away from him. “Why aren’t you coming?”

“I have other matters to attend to,” Ran answered vaguely.

“Does Rindou know?”

“Not yet.” Ran smirked. “I’ll tell him after he wakes up and he’ll get into contact with you.”

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.”

“Probably wouldn’t be as entertaining as you’re imagining.”

“That’s for me to determine.”

A genuine chuckle escaped Ran. “I’ll be sad when the jobs are done,” he told you. “I’ll miss that smart mouth of yours.”

“That makes one person,” you said, grinning at him. “Anyone else would be more than happy to shut me up forever. Surprised they haven’t cut out my tongue yet. Though, I have a disgusting suspicion about what that is.”

Ran didn’t respond to your words, but you could feel his questioning gaze on you. You didn’t elaborate. Instead, you grabbed the thick, rough, weathered rope and hauled yourself up. “I’ve got a big job tonight, so I need to get my beauty rest,” you announced, stretching your arms over your head. “Rindou can get in touch tomorrow. I doubt I’ll be able to pick up my phone until after everything’s said and done.”

“Take care, Lotus. I’d say good luck, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”

You and the three other runners stopped in front of Hifumi’s nice little suburban home. Kichiro was already waiting out front for you and your entourage to arrive. Hifumi was inside putting the bricks in backpacks.

You gave orders to the others to stay put while the goods are passed along to you. You were met with condescending scoffs and a collective eye roll. Any other day, it would’ve annoyed you, but tonight you didn’t care. You were too focused on making sure everything went on without a hitch. Approaching Kichiro, you could barely hear him whisper, “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Did they seem suspicious or anything?”

“Dunno, couldn’t tell. They just told us ‘good job’ and that we were good to go. I have a feeling they’re lying.”

“Your gut likely isn’t wrong,” you agreed. “Hopefully after tonight you and Hifumi won’t have to worry about anything anymore. And don’t stick your noses back into this kind of life. It isn’t meant for you and I can’t promise I’ll be around to save your ass.”

“Trust me, I think we’re both done with this. Gangs aren’t what they used to be, and you were right. We don’t belong here.”

“Good call,” you chuckled, patting Kichiro on the shoulder.

At that point, the front door opened and Hifumi came out carrying four beat up black backpacks. He looked like he was struggling and he dropped three at your feet. He handed the last one to you personally. You grunted as you swung the heavy bag onto your shoulder. “Did they put actual bricks in here?” you grumbled.

“It’s fifteen kilos,” Hifumi said flatly. “The other three have ten. They specifically wanted you to carry more.”

So they were obviously trying to get you into the most trouble. In a brief moment of self-satisfaction, you considered rubbing it into your companions’ faces. Glancing at your watch, you realized you could have a little bit of gloating time. But if you wanted things to go smoothly, you couldn’t antagonize your fellow runners.

You leaned over and picked up the remaining three bags. “As soon as we leave, let them know we’re on our way,” you instructed Hifumi. “Kichiro knows how to get ahold of me should you need it. If not, I’ll check in with him tomorrow morning.”

Kichiro and Hifumi nodded. The former opened his mouth and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me now. We’re not out of the woods yet,” you told them gravely. “Alright, let’s get this bitch in motion.”

You stepped off the porch and distributed the backpacks to your teammates. They frowned when the bags were a little heftier than they were expecting. You looked over them, Nezumi, probably-Hato, and a newer face you weren’t familiar with. You thought you heard probably-Hato call her Shika.

“Okay boys, and girl,” you added, seeing Shika’s glare. “You know the drill. Run like normal. Don’t act suspicious. Wait for one of the Four Symbols to save your ass if something goes wrong.”

You threw your leg over your bike and plopped down. “Thank you for agreeing to this.” You looked at them sincerely. “Be safe out there.”

They didn’t say anything to you, but the shock on their faces was enough to tell you what you needed. You started the engine and took off. You heard the others quickly follow and once you reached the highway, you all went your separate ways. The Four Symbols should be in the vicinity of the warehouse and when they heard the bikes, they’d know it was time to begin.

You relished in the wind whipping your hair around and daringly accelerated. The journey felt like it ended as quickly as it started. You parked your bike nearby and looked at the derelict warehouse. This was the place. Street lamps offered flickering illumination. In the corner of your eye, you caught the movement of one of Genbu’s men. Taking a deep breath, you adjusted the bag on your shoulders and walked leisurely towards the abandoned building.

It wasn’t hard for you to act cocky and put on a show. You did that all the time, even if you felt like you were going to vomit. It felt like you were on the very first job you did. Inexperienced and shaking, you had put on your brave face and bullied the admittedly terrifying drug dealers into a corner. Everything would be okay. It would work out. It had to.

You popped a stick of gum in your mouth and shoved the door open with a raucous squeak. Good thing nobody else was around. The warehouse itself was empty. Cement floors and metal walls were dully lit from the moon and streetlights. You strode in confidently, snapping your gum as you moved. Leaning against a rusting crate, you called out. “I got your shit. You hidin’?” You tossed the bag on the floor with a dull thud for emphasis.

A hooded figure emerged from the shadows and you felt your heart rate spike. You couldn’t make out the face, just the baggy hoodie and jeans they wore. The silence was unnerving.

“You came alone?” The voice was deep. It almost sounded fake.

“Do I look like a fucking idiot to you?” you snarked. “I’m almost offen—”

“Ahh, there she is. Brahman’s breadwinner is as foul mouthed and bitter as they say she is.” It was a new voice behind you.

You barely had time to react before strong arms grabbed you from behind. Another person walked out and picked up the bag you’d dropped. You struggled, both physically in your captor’s arms and in your mind to keep from thrashing too desperately. “What the fuck? Let me go!” you snarled.

The demand only served to have the grip on you tightened. “Did you think you could get away with trafficking our drugs? Making profit off our hard work?”

Struggling to turn your head to try and get a look at the man restraining you, you spat, “What work did you even do? Keeping forty-five kilos of cocaine in a teenager’s closet? Really hard work. I don’t know how you did it.”

Unfortunately, these men didn’t find your sarcasm as funny as you did. The next thing you knew you were on your back, breath driven out of you by the unyielding floor. A heavy boot drove itself into your gut, making you wheeze out what little you had left in your lungs. Instinctively, you curled into yourself to protect your vulnerable stomach. As you gasped for breath, a rough hand grabbed your hair, making your scalp scream in protest. Man, this wasn’t the plan at all. Where the hell was Genbu?

“You got too comfy,” a voice hissed in your ear. You shuddered as you felt the warm breath on your ear. “Your arrogance will be your downfall.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” you coughed. “You guys really think you scare me?”

They did. You weren’t stupid enough to believe yourself invincible while surrounded by men who weren’t afraid to kill. You weren’t a fighter. If you had been you’d be in Seiryu’s underground ring, but your strengths lay elsewhere. Though, you supposed your talents could only get you so far. Still, you loved to push your luck.

“You gonna kill me?” you asked. “Don’t be a fuckin’ tease.”

You were expecting a hit or a punch, but not to have your head shoved down against the floor with a sickening crack. Your world spun as black spots danced in your vision. Well shit, they might just kill you.

Another forceful slam had you nauseous as something warm ran down your face. Whatever energy you had had dissipated, leaving you to scatter across the concrete. Your entire body was heavy.

“Don’t fuckin’ kill her, you bastard!” A command was barked from above. “Boss ordered us to deliver her alive and mostly unharmed.”

The hand on your head released its grip. “She’s annoying when she’s conscious.” Your assailant sounded like a chastised child.

Part if you wanted to laugh, but all you could do was close your eyes. Fuckin’ hell, you thought. Genbu, where the fuck are you?

Actually, now that you think about it, maybe Wuxing was done with you. Maybe that’s why the Four Symbols were so cooperative. They knew they’d be rid of you soon. Damn, maybe you were as naive as they said you were. It was stupid to dream. It was stupid to hope. The only thing you could do was claw your way out of the abyss, but the sides were steep and your arms were made of lead. Your nails were chipped and bloody as you struggled to get out of the pit. The edge was near, but it seemed to stretch further and further. You could slip back into the abyss. The darkness was comfortable.

Were you okay with this? You weren’t sure. Did you even get the luxury of having a choice? No, you were never allowed to make your own decisions. Maybe you’d return to the familiar embrace of despair. At least it never taunted you with hope.

You were sleepy. So, so sleepy. Would you wake up somewhere else? Would you wake up at all if you fell asleep? You supposed it didn’t matter. You had no family left. No one to mourn your loss. How sad. How pitiful. You would never amount to anything and the world wanted to make sure you knew it. You could try to hide the truth underneath a loud conceit and a flippant attitude, but somewhere along the lines your armor was going to crack. You just hadn’t expected that it would be now of all times.

“Grab her,” the voice from above ordered. His footsteps echoed across the warehouse. “Let’s go before somethin’ happens.”

You were ungracefully slung over someone’s shoulder and you watched your limp arms dangle in your blurry vision. Whatever was going to happen next probably wouldn’t be pretty. The only reason Wuxing would even bother trying to rescue you is because you still owe them money. Wasn’t it odd how the only value you had was negative? Would you ever claw your way out? No way to know.

Every step that your captor took felt like it was jarring your brain directly—like someone had put your brain in a jar and shook it violently. There was a pain so fierce you wouldn’t be surprised if you threw up all over this guy’s back. Maybe he’d be grossed out and drop you. Though, in this state you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape or get very far.

There was a sharp whistle from outside the warehouse. You felt the man carrying you tense and turn his head. “Shit, who’s out there?”

“I don’t know,” the boss spat. “Let’s go before—”

You heard gunshots. They echoed around and created a panic in the small group there. The boss and your captor started running and your stomach lurched. You were definitely going to throw up or pass out. There was a loud bang and you felt the open air on you. Heavy breathing was the only thing you could hear aside from the rapid footsteps. You felt your body heave, but nothing came up.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ throw up on me,” the man growled. His grip on you tightened painfully.

You opened your mouth to give a weak, witty retort, but you didn’t get to say anything as you heard a gun cock. The running stopped, but the world was still in motion to you.

“I’d put her down if I were you.”

Genbu. Fucking finally, you thought. You wanted to snap at him and ask him what took so long, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy to.

“There’s two of us and one of you,” the boss snarled. “You can’t get us both.”

“Not alone,” Genbu agreed before snapping his fingers. “But if you know anything about Wuxing, you know we don’t take kindly to those kidnapping our members.”

The muffled sound of footsteps echoed around and you heard the boss click his tongue in frustration. Your captor tensed.

“Put her down,” Genbu instructed.

“And if I don’t?”

There was no warning. Everything happened all at once. A shot fired out, the man holding you yelped and took a knee. His hold loosened and you fell limp to the side. You closed your eyes, realizing it took too much energy to keep them open. You could feel something warm and wet underneath your fingers.

“I don’t ask twice,” Genbu said coolly. “We’ve got your other men in custody, and now you’re surrounded and the last one standing. How do you want to do this?”

The boss tried sprinting away, but multiple shots rang out. You heard him groan in pain and then there was a dull smack on the pavement as he hit the ground. You could imagine the disapproving glare in Genbu’s eye.

“Take care of them and get them back to base,” Genbu ordered.

His men shuffled forward, herding the group away. You heard some attempts to fight back, but they were only met with quick punches and soft groans.

“Lotus?”

You know you needed to answer him, but you couldn’t even open your eyes, let alone your mouth.

Genbu sighed before you felt him pick you up. “You were right,” he said quietly, likely assuming you couldn’t hear him.

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

#ruse’s ashes #x reader fanfic #rindou haitani x reader #reader insert #tokyo revengers reader insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers ocs #rindou x reader

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ryttu3k · 6 months ago

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Classic 100 weekend! My shortlist (and 41-strong longlist) are here, will be keeping track of everything beneath the cut! Bolded entries are from my shortlist, regular text will be longlist, others I really dig will be asterisked. Let's see how we go!

98. Rimsky-Korsakov - Scheherazade (getting started on the longlist early on!)

95. Beethoven - Symphony No. 5* (listen I longlisted three other symphonies, 5th didn't fit)

94. Hisaishi - My Neighbour Totoro* (I do have Hisaishi longlisted, but for Spirited Away)

92. Rodgers & Hammerstein - The Sound of Music* (I think this was on either Mum's longlist or shortlist. Either way, I grew up on this!)

90. Strauss Jr - On The Beautiful Blue Danube* ([muffled space shuttle docking in the distance] Anyway I'm a quarter Viennese this shit's genetic)

86. Westlake - Babe* (got Westlake in my shortlist for Antarctica, but Babe is lovely too!)

84. Westlake and Lior - Compassion* (just a beautiful piece)

83. Einaudi - I Giorni* (huh, I thought I actually did longlist this)

78. Jenkins - Adiemus* (oh hey I know this! I have Benedictus from The Armed Man in my longlist, didn't realise this was his too)

76. Williams - Jurassic Park (longlist! For a very silly reason - my brother and SIL used the main theme as their wedding march, so got some lovely associations with it)

73. Jeffes - Music for a Found Harmonium* (didn't longlist it but totally should have!)

71. Beethoven - Moonlight Sonata (technically I longlisted it for the third movement and they only played the first, but oh well)

67. Williams - Indiana Jones* (how much Williams will be on here? Yes)

61. Elgar - Pomp & Circumstances (the first appearance of something from my shortlist! This one got on the list because my grandmother loves it so much and gets so much comfort and joy from it)

57. Ravel - Bolero (here is a super fun drum corps version! Lowkey want to be the cymbalist who looks like she's having too much fun, and also those two drummers at the end who are leaping into the air. Such great energy!)

56. Hisaishi - Howl's Moving Castle* (another Hisaishi! Still waiting for Spirited Away (Nausicaa wasn't on the nominee list, alas), but honestly, any is good)

54. Copland - Anthem for the Common Man (I also really like the Emerson, Lake, and Palmer version :D Oh, they just played a snippet of it!)

52. Powell - How To Train Your Dragon* (I do love me some Romantic Flight)

48. Saint-Saëns - Carnival of the Animals* (I have the Organ Symphony on my shortlist and Samson et Delilah (for Bacchanale) on my longlist, but I enjoy this too! Also Danse Macabre, but not sure that'd make it onto a list of music to make you feel good...)

47. Copland - Appalachian Spring (my favourite of the two Copland ones I had on my longlist!)

46. Theodorakis - Zorba the Greek (literally how can you not enjoy this piece?)

45. Sibelius - Finlandia* (pieces that make you want to visit the Arctic)

43. Tchaikovsky - 1812 Overture (my first memory of this: the very first Symphony Under the Stars in the Domain, January 1992. I had just turned five. Featured live cannons, fireworks, and the bells of St Mary's Cathedral, and it definitely made an impression!)

39. Grieg - Peer Gynt* (I basically grew up on this, thanks to a Grieg-loving Mum)

36. Westlake - Antarctica feat. Penguin Ballet (it's a penguin ballet <3)

35. Beethoven - 7th Symphony (this was my top choice and it should have been much higher up ;_; And they only played the second movement, my fourth-favourite of four!)

34. Vangelis - Chariots of Fire (I mean I longlisted it, but better than the 7th?)

28. Orff - Carmina Burana (this was one of the first live concerts I ever saw. When Ave Formosissima transitioned into the O Fortuna reprise I got chills. I also goddamn adore Ave Formosissima into the techno version of O Fortuna, but...)

27. Richter - Four Seasons Recomposed (the reorchestration that made me fall in love with Four Seasons. I liked bits before but this is just... next level. You know how sometimes you have a super elaborate and detailed painting and there's so much you lose a lot of it, like, say, Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights? And then you see details and you're just, "I didn't know that was there!" and you can focus on that and just marvel at the genius of it? This is like the musical version, by taking excerpts and celebrating them!)

26. Saint-Saëns - Organ Symphony (hilariously one of my Sunday morning Traditions(tm) is listening to this, so. I still kept my Tradition(tm)!)

22. Williams - Star Wars (damn, I thought this'd be top 10!)

20. Dvorak - New World Symphony (thought this'd be higher too, honestly! Lots of surprises up this end.)

19. Beethoven - Pastoral Symphony (made it to the top 20! Unsure if Eroica will get in, so we're basically just waiting to see where Choral comes in. Top 5 or bust!!)

18. Tchaikovsky - The Nutcracker* (one of my first ballets! Granted, one of a lot of people's first ballets...)

12. Shore - Lord of the Rings (and The Hobbit) (surprised this did so much better than Star Wars, but very pleased!)

8. Elgar - Enigma Variations* (particularly Nimrod, Mum's favourite)

7. Jenkins - The Armed Man (specifically Benedictus. I'm still uncertain if this makes me Feel Good or just makes me Feel A Lot, but either way: emotions)

5. Gershwin - Rhapsody in Blue (my beloved <3 Lovely orchestral version)

2. Holst - The Planets (surprised it got in so high, but pleased!)

1. Oh, you know :)

Current count

Shortlist: 6/10 (Pomp and Circumstances, Penguin Ballet, 7th Symphony, Four Seasons Recomposed, Organ Symphony, Star Wars)

Longlist: 17/31 (Scheherezade, Jurassic Park, Moonlight Sonata, Bolero, Anthem for the Common Man, Appalachian Spring, Zorba the Greek, 1812 Overture, Chariots of Fire, Carmina Burana, New World Symphony, Pastoral Symphony, Lord of the Rings, The Armed Man, Rhapsody in Blue, The Planets, aaand Choral!)

#music #classic 100

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casspurrjoybell-33 · 3 months ago

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Blue's Rose - Chapter 2 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Boys Will Be Accused

Blue Cavanaugh & Kulap 'Kool' Somboon

Fifteen minutes later Blue found himself out back in a particularly shadowed area, he was with Mallory Vance.

She was a junior from his school who he didn't know very well but who had always seemed nice.

She had approached him in near tears saying she had dropped her keys and could he help her find them.

He had told her to retrace her steps and he followed.

Crouching down with his cell-phone acting as a flashlight he searched the ground, thinking it would be a miracle if they found them.

As he pondered the probability of findings the keys, he felt a warm body squat down behind him.

Two arms, one on each side of his waist moved forward to wrap tightly around his torso and a soft body pressed tightly to his back.

A warm moist mouth suddenly closed on his ear and teeth nipped at his lobe.

"Hey," Blue exclaimed out loud, standing up abruptly and untangling the clingy arms.

"What are you doing?" Mallory giggled up at him.

"I thought that was obvious," she said coyly.

Cocking her head at him and taking in his shocked reaction she asked...

"Are you a virgin?"

It was clear the question was more of a taunting dare.

Blue felt heat rise to his cheeks.

He knew most guys would probably love finding themselves in this particular situation but he wasn't most guys.

He didn't like lies and manipulation.

He didn't like sluts either.

"Not sure what your game is but I'm not playing," Blue growled.

He stepped away from her with every intension of walking away but she grabbed his arm and pulled it into her body between her breasts.

She hugged his arm and rubbed it into her cleavage.

"Surely you're not saying no to this?" she cooed.

Blue was totally confused as to how he had gotten himself into this situation.

He didn't even know the girl, had never spoke to her until tonight and wasn't attracted to her in the slightest.

He had just wanted to help her find her keys.

What the fuck?

Once again, he had to untangle himself from her grabby clutches.

With a jerk he freed his arm and took several steps backwards away from her, his steps muffled by the soft grass.

Holding up his hands, palms facing out, silently communicating to her to keep her distance he said...

"Look here bitch... um... Mallory," he said, still walking backwards.

"I'm not sure why you think I would be interested but I'm not," he assured her.

"Not at all," he emphatically emphasized not caring in the slightest if he was wounding her ego.

He had had enough!

"So, you need to just back the fuck up," he ordered as she started to walk towards him again.

"I don't like you. I'm not attracted to you so, stay the fuck away from me," and with that Blue turned and started jogging back to the house.

He needed a beer but he didn't get that beer.

He had instead detoured and entered the house through a sliding glass door few people knew about.

He had wanted to avoid people for a few minutes so he could regroup.

Ten minutes later, ready to rejoin the masses he had just stepped into the living room when frightened and angry screaming and cussing suddenly overrode the music and party chatter.

Less than a minute later Blue was confronted by a swarm of angry females and a few males as he was accused of assaulting Mallory.

Blue was speechless.

Angry accusations were flung, fingers were pointed and he was accused, tried and found guilty without him speaking a word.

Within no time the police arrived.

Mallory cried and sobbed and gave a grade A award winning performance.

The detached part of Blue watching from outside of his body completely marveled at her hysterical accusations and convenient pleas to not have a medical examination as she questioned... 'hadn't she been violated enough?'

Watching her, Blue found her quite believable.

That was when he started to tremble.

Real fear took hold as the enormity of her claims set in.

He felt sick at the look on some of the faces of people he had grown up with.

He didn't think he could feel worse.

Then a few minutes later he knew he could when he was escorted from the premises by a police officer and carted to the police station to be interrogated.

What happened next was pretty much a nightmarish blur to Blue.

Questions were zinged at his head.

Funny enough he was told not to answer any of them because he was only seventeen years old so his parents needed to be there but that didn't stop them from still asking.

They were trying to scare him and it was working.

He knew he had not done anything wrong.

He knew an examination would prove his innocence but what if she declined one?

Could she do that?

As he sat alone in the small pale grey room, waiting for his parents his mind whirled with one thought after the other.

What if she stuck to her story but didn't go to the hospital?

He could most likely get off for that but without proving his innocence unequivocally some people would always believe he was guilty.

Blue shuddered at the thought of living with the stigma of being a rapist for the rest of his life.

That was when silent tears began to fall.

His parents arrived shortly after that.

The questions started again.

The harsh, sarcastic and disbelieving voices beat at Blue as he was pummeled with unending allegations.

Blue's parents looked on helplessly as he was accused over and over again of a crime, they would never believe him capable of committing.

Despite being scared shitless, Blue specifically focused on his mother.

He saw how shocked and horrified she looked when she walked through the door and he determinedly maintained eye contact with her and not the detective as he adamantly and repeatedly denied the charges.

Sheer relief engulfed him when she suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight as she murmured assurances to him that she believed him.

His dad huffed out an "Of course we believe him," and instructed Blue to not say anything else until their attorney arrived, making Blue feel doubly relieved at the unconditional support from his parents.

It was as they waited for the attorney that a soft knock unexpectedly sounded at the interrogation room door.

Three dejected heads popped up and waited to see who would enter.

Three mouths dropped open as Kool walked into the room.

He gave Blue and his family a grimace-like smile as he approached the table followed by a detective and a police officer.

Mallory's shrill voice could be heard outside in the hallway before the door shut again cutting off the noise.

Blue didn't know why he was surprised to hear her voice and he didn't know why she now sounded so different.

She sounded angry now, not devastated.

"This young man lives with you?" the detective asked my parents. Perplexed, my father nodded.

"Yes but," he started to ask but the detective cut him off but this time nicely.

In fact, it was then that Blue noted that the detective and police officer's entire demeanor had changed.

Blue frowned and glanced across the table and Kool.

"What's going on?" he asked.

He was 'confusion'.

The young police officer coughed lightly and shuffled his feet.

The detective cleared his own throat before explaining...

"Well, Mr. Somboon has given us your alibi," he enlightened, glancing at Blue's parents before looking over at Blue and making eye contact before explaining fully.

"He disclosed that you could not have attacked Ms. Vance because you were with him," he paused here for a second before continuing and putting significant emphasis on his next word.

"Together' in one of the bedrooms."

Silence permeated the room for long seconds.

Blue knew his eyes were huge and he heard his parents inhale sharply beside him but he didn't dare turn his head and look at them.

He looked down at the scarred table and breathed deeply, totally confused.

He finally looked up at Kool who met his eyes dead on.

Blue didn't look away until the detective continued his explanation.

"After Mr. Somboon gave his statement, we questioned Ms. Vance again and found discrepancies in her story."

He turned to look at Blue.

"She also continues to refuse to undergo a physical examination which makes her story even more suspect."

Blue propped his elbows on the table and bent his head forward to rest his forehead on the palms of his hands.

He listened as his mom and dad argued that they should require her to undergo a medical examination so as to clear Blue's name completely.

As they argued Blue glanced up from under his eyelids to look at Kool who continued to stand quietly watching Blue.

Kool gave Blue the slightest of nods.

It was oddly reassuring to Blue, it said he wasn't alone, it said he was believed. It said he had his back.

In that moment, in the middle of the precinct, in the middle of all the crazy convoluted accusations, Blue was completely humbled.

He had treated this kid so poorly.

He had acted like a jerk of the first order.

He had been as ungracious and unpleasant as he could be and still Kool had extended his hand out to Blue and pulled him from the depths of the quicksand and he had been drowning.

The fact that everyone now thought they were lovers was something he would think about tomorrow.

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superblysubpar · 9 months ago

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I'm so happy mechanic Steve is finally here leighanne!! I know how incredibly hard you've been working on him and I'm so glad we all get to salivate over him together now 💛

I can't wait to unravel with this story and feel all the emotional roller coaster feelings I know I will be throughout.

That entire intro with Robin and Eddie is just like those first few minutes of a movie or pages of a book you know? I can smell the car and summer air and feel the humidity on my own skin. Their ease of friendship and actual joy from seeing each other in person is just so achingly gooey sweet and it made me tuck down under my covers more to get ready for the journey I'm about to embark on. You set everything up beautifully as always 💛

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her.

Every single one of your descriptions of Robin has me losing it. I love the way you describe everything that's her, but also these little glimpses of us seeing new sides of Robin because of Steve, and facets of their friendship.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him.

Hate him, love your beautiful poetry 🙄 it's fine I'm in pain. It's whatever.

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun.

Kiss me. Wait no, try again. Rail me. Whoops, no. Wrong again.

🙄🙄🙄

WHAT KIND OF SICK FUCKING GAME ARE YOU PLAYING HERE LEIGHANNE

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

I hate you 🙄🙄🙄

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

UGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH THE ENTIRITY OF THE SHOP. EVERYTHING. HIS BOOTS AND THIGHS UNDER OUR CAR. THE TIED SLEEVES AROUND HIS WAIST. THE BANTER AND BITE AND WIT FROM BOTH. EDDIE'S "HELP". THE FINGERS ON OUR CHIN. CITY GIRL (YOU KNOW I'M A SUCKER FOR THIS 🙄).

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten.

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?”

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins.

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton.

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks.

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.”

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs.

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!”

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up.

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do.

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face.

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her.

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house.

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house.

Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail.

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it.

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years.

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves.

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation.

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink.

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive.

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though.

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more.

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare.

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh, you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs.

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge.

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?”

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away.

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!”

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food.

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout.

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight.

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission.

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap.

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up.

“Does she know that?”

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer.

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!”

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat.

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?”

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one.

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s.

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt.

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door.

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more.

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it.

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him.

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall.

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington.

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch.

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room.

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway.

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of.

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen.

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters.

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget.

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse.

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light.

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement.

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat.

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.”

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them.

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him.

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.”

“Is this the bad news?”

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck.

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?”

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch.

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath.

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes.

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

#leighanne my girlfriend 💜#steve harrington can get it anytime anywhere #especially mechanic steve #especially IGINRO steve #steve harrington series #I guess it's never really over

1K notes · View notes

rendevousz · 4 years ago

Text

freak

avengers x teen!fem!reader

summary: you get captured during a mission and the team saves you.

warnings: language, violence, brief misogyny, torture, **NO sexual assault (because as i was proofreading, i only implied most of the torture scenes because i didn't want to write it in graphic detail and i realised the vague wordings might be misinterpreted as sexual assault which IT IS NOT, just clearing it up), and also again, my inability to write good endings

word count: 4589

notes: i just rewatched iron man 2 so that explains justin hammer LMAO also ooc justin hammer because even tho mans evil, he gets extremely um.. cruel here but anyways i hope you enjoy this!!

you were 13 when you first met the avengers and 16 when you officially joined. you grew up as one of HYDRA's experimented children and the team had found you when they raided the base that you were in.

a small, sickly-looking kid you were, sat against your cell wall, hugging your knees. 13 but you could probably pass off as a 10 year old due to how malnourished and miserable you were. burying your head in between your knees, you covered your ears as the loud gunshot noises filled the whole place. the metal door of your cell slamming open against the wall had you whimpering, hands above your head in fear.

every time the door slammed open, guards would come drag you out for more experiments so it was an instinct for you to cower in fear at the sound.

"last room in the west hall, i found a little girl."

you heard nothing because you were covering your ears, preparing yourself to be forcefully dragged by the guards to the experiment room. but it never came.

"hey," a soft voice called. you were violently shaking at this point, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. "hey, it's okay." the voice called out again and you felt them touch your shoulders.

your head immediately jolted up, flinching away from the stranger's touch. your eyes met a blue pair as you backed away into the corner in fear. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to." the man apologised. you slowly looked up at him, observing him. he had on a full black outfit, a quiver of arrows slinging on his shoulder and he was holding onto a bow.

"don't be scared. i'm here to help," he states with his hands out, as if to calm you down. "that's what they all say." you hissed through gritted teeth and a tear-stained face, glaring at him even though that could've been a very wrong move had it been with an actual HYDRA guard.

despite the strange feeling of being safe around this man, you didn't let your guard down. that's exactly what those scientists said seven years ago. trusting kind-looking men got you into this hell you never thought you would ever escape from and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

"clint," a red-headed female, also in all black, entered through the open door of your cell with her pistol up. at the sight of the weapon, you broke your glare towards the man. your breathing quickened and you went back to your original position before the archer came; body pressed up against your knees and covering your ears with your palms.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll come! please don't use that on me again," you whimpered, voice muffled as your face was hidden against your knees. the woman freezes mid-walk, looking at her friend with a bewildered expression.

"nat! put that away!" clint whispered harshly, eyes glaring at the pistol in nat's hands. nat's jaw dropped in realisation, a small gasp leaving her lips as she immediately put away her weapon.

she slowly makes her way to you and clint puts his arm out before she could get closer. he looks at her with a worried expression as he shook his head, as if telling her that she can't get too close to you. nat nods understandingly, crouching down a distance from you.

"hey," she spoke softly. "i promise you that we're not here to hurt you." you kept your face hidden from her, still hugging your legs tightly. nat sighs before sitting down.

"here, let's introduce ourselves. i'm nat and this right here is clint." you hear her speak and when you slowly lifted up your head, you saw the both of them sitting down in front of you, seeming to have made themselves at home in your pathetic cell. "what's your name?"

name? you had never been able to use your name before. you always kept your own name deep in your heart despite no one ever using it, afraid you would forget it if you stopped thinking of it. the only name they ever called you here was 'number five'.

"y/n," you whispered, still doubtful about these people's intentions. you almost burst out crying when you said your name out loud. that was the first time you introduced yourself with your actual name and not the number you were given ever since you were captured.

nat must have noticed this because she immediately spoke up, trying to distract you from your consuming thoughts. "y/n...that's a pretty name for a pretty girl like you. how old are you, y/n?" she asks again.

you contemplated once more but decided it was fine. you knew you were probably going to regret trusting these two strangers but what could be worse than what HYDRA has been doing to you for years?

"13," you muttered, looking down at your lap. you were now timidly seated cross-legged, playing with the tattered hem of your shorts. you heard a small gasp from one of them and looked up to see clint with his jaw dropped.

the two adults were both thinking of the same thing. how could you be 13? you were so small and sickly-looking, they didn't even think you were older than ten, let alone an early teen.

"i know you're scared and you have all the reasons in the world to be, but i promise you, we're here to help. we'll get you out of here, only if you trust us. will you trust us?" nat says. your mind was conflicted. you were either going to finally get out of this hellhole or you were going to be taken somewhere even worse than here. but could anywhere really be worse than here?

you decided to take a leap of faith and trust these two strangers. that decision had to have been the best decision you've ever made in your life.

you were now 18, an official avenger and you had the most amazing family you could've ever asked for. they were a bit on the crazier side but could you really have a normal family when said family consisted of superheroes? but you weren't complaining. you loved these people.

they were the ones who took care of you when you thought you had no one. having been a HYDRA experiment, you had abilities the normal human didn't. said ability being shapeshifting and healing. that's why you became an avenger. your shapeshifting ability was essential during missions where you had to sneak in and you being able to heal others was crucial when medic wasn't able to be there on time.

you pretty much came along to every mission despite the adults saying you don't have to. you knew they were only doing that to protect you from dangers of all those missions but how could you not when you had such abilities? they'd be much better with you helping.

that was why you were here, in bulgaria, fighting alongside the team. well, just steve, nat, clint, bucky and tony.

justin hammer had managed to get his hands on a type of out-of-this-planet weapon that tony was also trying to retrieve, and he had big plans with it. hence why the avengers had to come where hammer had wrecked havoc in; sofia, bulgaria. he had upgraded his robots with the tech used for the stolen weapon.

with evil robots attacking the whole city, it felt like you were living the story that wanda told you of what happened in sokovia before you met the avengers.

an hour passed before all of the robots had finally been taken down and you all knew you had to get to hammer before he activates more robots to distract you guys and uses the weapon for bad things.

"tony, have you located hammer?" steve's voice sounded in your ear through the comms. you had just finished healing the nasty gash on clint's side, nat's cut on her forehead and the bruises all over bucky. you were feeling significantly weaker now, from the amount of healing you did. you stumbled slightly when you walked and bucky immediately held onto your arm. "doll, are you okay?"

"i'm fine, buck. nothing i haven't dealt with before," you told him, gently removing his grip on your arm, walking back to the quinjet.

"no, absolutely not. we are not sending y/n right into a death trap. she's not even strong enough right now, she just finished healing us."

you were all back at the compound now and planning a second attack on justin hammer.

"it's not a death trap, buck. and i know you're worried but she's the only choice we got. y/n, all you gotta do is sneak in as one of his henchmen and provide entrance for us. once we get in, we'll take all his guards down and get that weapon from hammer and we won't have to worry about his world domination plans anymore. it'll be over as soon as it starts and she'll be back safe with us. sound good, y/n/n?"

"yeah, sure." you agreed, already having a person in mind that you were going to change yourself to.

the plan had gone just as steve wanted and they managed to raid justin hammer's building, tony stealing the very item that could've aided in the massacre of millions. justin and his henchmen managed to escape the building before the avengers could catch them.

"well, that was anticlimactic," tony scoffs, already making his way to the quinjet. "but good job, y/n. you saved the day once again."

he expected to hear a laugh from you, like you usually did, being the only one who ever responds to him after missions. but instead he was met with silence. "kid?" still no answer.

"y/n, where are you?" steve panicked, finally realising that you were the only one who hasn't responded in a hot minute. "y/n/n, this isn't funny." he breathed out.

"she's...she's gone."

"well, well, well," a voice spoke right as you woke up from your slumber. you squinted, noticing that you were in some sort of dark room with only one light bulb right above you. "what do we have here?"

a figure walks right in the light and you could barely make out justin hammer's ugly face with how dizzy you felt. "if it isn't the little freak." he states condescendingly, smirking down at your helpless position, both wrists and ankles cuffed onto the metal chair you were sat on. you struggled against the restraints, trying to get free but to no avail.

your breathing quickened, your current vulnerable state reminding you of your later years in HYDRA. they had started off experimenting on you on a metal gurney but as you grew older, you realised that what they were doing to you was bad so you started fighting back. that ended you up on a metal restraint chair instead of the gurney, strapped to the chair with cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

this felt like deja vu. the same panic you felt, the same breathing difficulties, the same amount of effort put into trying to get out of the restraints. "you should know, princess, that that doesn't work." hammer chuckled, a fake pout on his lips as he crouched in front of you, a rough hand on your cheek. you instinctively jerked away from his touch, to which he paid no mind to because he had expected that. he then grabbed your chin harshly, turning your head up towards him. you glared at him.

"you think i didn't know what you did? snuck in as one of my men using your freaky powers? not to mention useless. imagine having powers but not being able to use them to even escape from mere humans," he laughs in your face, harshly letting go of your chin, throwing your head backwards. "you tell me where stark planned to bring the weapon and i'll let you pretty little thing go."

"no."

before you could even comprehend, his fist came flying at your face and your head dropped to the side at the impact. your left cheekbone was throbbing and you could already tell you were gonna have a black eye. despite the pain, it wasn't something you weren't used to. you were an avenger, after all. getting decked in the face was practically in the contract.

he grabbed your chin once again, pulling your head upwards to face him. "you're gonna tell me where it is or i'm gonna make you regret it."

you looked up at him with a bored look. he punched you again. and again. and again. until you could taste the blood on your tongue. "think you wanna tell me now, sweetheart?"

"never. not to someone like you."

the man seemed to get a kick out of beating you up because he punched you again in the face. your whole face was pretty much numb now and the metallic taste in your mouth intensified. you smirked at the man before you, chuckling darkly.

"sure, beat up the helpless girl. that's the only way you can beat me, right? when i'm all tied up? what a man,"

his hand was around your throat within a second and he forced you to look him in the eyes again. "sweetheart, you're a girl. tied or not, you're still weak. not even with that useless power of yours."

taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, you gathered as much bloody saliva in your mouth before spitting it in his face.

it was very much the wrong thing to do because after he wiped off his face, he left the room and two men came in, various tools in hand for their fun with you.

"stark! my buddy! how's it going?" justin hammer's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, where the avengers were having a meeting about your possible whereabouts.

"where is she?!" wanda growled, standing up abruptly.

"what ever do you mean?" hammer smirked, feigning innocence. "you know what we mean. where is she?" steve spoke authoritatively, trying to control his anger at the sight of the man's face.

"i'll tell you where your thing is if you tell me where my thing is." he smiled wickedly. this caused wanda to get angrier. "y/n is not a thing! and the weapon was never yours in the first place!" vision held onto her to calm her down and it worked because she sat back down, though still glaring at the screen.

"oh she's not a thing? seems like it to me, though." he smirked and the team frowned, not understanding what he meant until they heard screams and justin's smirk widening at the sound. what a sick bastard. "what are you doing to her?!" bucky screamed, knocking his chair back as he stood up.

"i don't know, you tell me." he chuckles, and the screen changes to the live footage of you in the restraint chair with the two men in the room.

you were no longer fighting back now, just sat limply with your head dropped to the side. the first hour with them, you had been fighting back like you did with justin, despite the restraints, but now entering the second hour, you were too exhausted for anything.

your left eye had been swollen shut, you could barely breathe through your nose, your cheeks were throbbing like hell and your bottom lip was busted. your head was the only thing that moved freely when hit so the men seemed to find satisfaction the most when they punched you in the face. though that didn't stop them from inflicting pain on other parts of you.

"let her go, she's just a kid!" sam exclaimed, his grip on the edge of the table tightening to control his anger. peter and wanda were crying looking at the awful state you were in, clint, tony and bruce were silent in shock, steve and bucky were getting increasingly angry as the abuse continued.

"are you going to tell us where stark is keeping the weapon or have you not gotten enough?" one of the two men was heard asking, pulling your hair back to make you look up at him. you look at with your half-opened right eye, breathing heavily. "my answer's never gonna change no matter how many times you ask."

he scoffs, stepping back before the other man swings a bat right at your stomach. the air was immediately knocked out of your lung. the men laughed as you coughed up blood profusely. this caused wanda to get more hysterical.

"well, looks like she wants more. i'll call back when she's had enough. toodles," he waves his fingers at the camera with a sinister smirk before abruptly ending the call.

the room went silent after the call, save for bucky and sam breathing heavily from the anger they felt. bucky then turned to steve, pain could be seen on his face. "you said she would be safe."

"i–i'm sorry, buck. i didn't know he was gonna take her with him." steve was still frozen in shock, the image of you on the chair now permanently ingrained in his brain. in everyone's brains actually.

"guys, gear up, he's in colorado."

all heads turned towards natasha and she looked back at them with a 'what?' expression. "you were tracking him down the whole time?"

"um, duh? now come on, gotta save our girl."

you awoke to a stinging sensation on your inner forearm. after your bloody coughing fit, they proceeded to beat you up again and you were knocked out then. now you were slowly regaining consciousness but you were starting to prefer being passed out. your whole body was in pain and the fact that you couldn't even move made it even worse.

"oh, lookie here. sleeping beauty is up." you were met once again with justin hammer's ugly face. he was sitting on a chair perpendicular to your left side. you couldn't wait to get out of here so you didn't have to keep seeing his face every time you woke up. your inner forearm was stinging even more now so you looked down at it. you gasped at the sight.

"how'd you like my artwork?" he chuckled at your reaction. there on your arm, obviously carved out with the bloody knife that the asshole was so proudly holding on to, was 'FREAK'. carved out big and bold. on your skin. "pretty fitting, eh? freak? because, you know, that's what you are."

the blood was seeping out through the cuts and it stung even more now that it had been exposed to the air. the asshole moved his chair to your other side. "what should i write on this arm?" he feigns a thinking expression, looking up thoughtfully with his thumb and pointer finger on his chin.

"please, i–i don't know where tony put it. i really don't." you cried, tears now flowing freely down your face without a shame.

he looks at you with amusement. "what is this? are you...are you giving up already? can't take anymore?" he smirks and you sigh, closing your eyes. you just awoke but you were exhausted. so, so exhausted.

he takes out his phone, the smirk now permanent on his ugly face. "stark! kid's finally had enough. wanna tell me where the weapon is now or do you want to find her body at the bottom of the ocean?"

you couldn't even be bothered to react to his statement. the pain all finally registered and you were tired. tired and in excruciating pain.

"kinda busy right now, can you call back later?" you could hear tony's voice sound from justin's phone and the man beside you laughed. "i see you don't care for the girl. what could possibly be more important than saving her?"

"i don't know, you tell me." a voice said from behind you two and before you knew it, hammer was knocked off the chair he was on. you weakly turned your head just in time to see a metal arm force hammer up onto his feet before wrapping around his neck. "don't you fucking touch her again."

"y/n!" you heard wanda's voice as she entered the room with peter. more tears flowed down your face at the sight of them, stinging when they rolled past the cuts on your face but that didn't matter. your family was finally here to save you.

you saw the red mist of wanda's powers surround your cuffs before they clicked open. "oh, bubs, i'm so sorry." she cried, both hands hovering around your face, hesitating to touch you in fear of hurting you. her eyes fell onto the words carved out onto your skin and her mouth fell open before covering it with her hand. "i'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner." peter's voice cracked and you could tell he was emotional.

"it's okay," you told them, giving them a small smile, the biggest one you could give in your current state.

tony, sam and steve entered the room to see bucky relentlessly beating up your captor and wanda and peter standing by you as you cried.

"cupcake, we're here now. don't cry, you're safe now." tony came closer and despite knowing that you were because your family was finally here, you couldn't help but let out all the pent up emotions you've kept throughout your time of captivity.

sam had a go at justin once bucky was done and steve had to physically pry them both off of the sick bastard so that nat could cuff him and bring him back to the jet.

"y/n/n, i'm so sorry. if i hadn't–"

"it's okay, stevie." you cut him off. truthfully, you only did so because you knew he was going to giving a long-winded explanation justifying his actions and your headache couldn't bear to hear lengthy sentences. but you also didn't think it was in any way his fault so he didn't deserve to be beating himself up for this. shit happens, anyway.

"let's get you out of here, doll." bucky says, cringing when he sees the blood on the floor of your chair, as well as on your clothes. he quickly reaches to lift you off the chair but stops when you let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. "doll, i'm so sorry! did i hurt you?!" bucky questions in panic.

"y–you didn't, they did. it...it hurts everywhere," you cried, feeling hopeless that you couldn't even bear being carried by someone, let alone get up by yourself. their hearts broke when you said that. you never really cried much in front of them and you were known to withstand pain well because of how much shit HYDRA put you in as well as your powers being healing, meaning you had a higher pain tolerance than most people.

"it's okay, bubs. i got you. let's get you home, alright?" wanda's calming voice broke you out of your breakdown and red mist surrounded your whole body, wanda moving you with her powers. you were thankful of that because it didn't cause any more pain to your body.

maybe hammer was right. maybe you are just a freak with useless powers. wanda floated you into the jet and she set you down on the bed. "y/n, oh my god!" clint cried out once he sees you. you looked much worse than you did on hammer's camera footage during the call an hour ago. "kid, i'm so sorry."

"clint, take the wheel. bruce doesn't have all the resources needed. she needs to be treated ASAP." nat tells her best friend and he nods, taking the wheel and immediately taking off once everyone had boarded.

you were laid on the bed, right eye slightly open as bruce examined you. exhaustion hit you like a truck and before you knew it, you blacked out.

"how is she, doc?"

"pretty banged up but y/n, as i already knew, is a strong girl. lots of internal bleeding, broken bones, bruises and scars but she'll be fine. you can check her file later if you want," doctor cho tells tony outside of your room. "it's fine, can we see her?" he asks on behalf of the whole team standing behind him.

"yeah, of course! she woke up five minutes ago. i'll be off now, call me or my team if you need anything." she bids goodbye and left the group of superheroes.

steve slowly opens the door and there you were in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "hey, y/n/n," he greets sheepishly, feeling as though he had interrupted your alone time of blankly staring at the ceiling. the team trailed in behind him and soon your bed was surrounded by the avengers.

"hi, cupcake."

you looked away from the ceiling and turned your head towards tony. "oh, hey tones." you smile as sam helps you sit up while the rest sat on chairs all around you. "how you feeling, bub?" nat asks, eyes flickering down to the bold scarring of letters on your forearm.

"as okay as i can be." you answered truthfully, pressing your inner forearm closer to your body so the team doesn't see the letters carved onto your skin. you already know what you are, you didn't need the rest thinking so too.

"you're not a freak, bubs."

you look up at wanda. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to read your mind. but they were awfully loud. you're not a freak, y/n. and you're not useless too. that bastard may have carved out that word onto your skin but the scar will fade. it's not permanent. you know why? because that's not what you are." she tells you, taking off her jacket to wrap it around you because you felt self conscious of the scars all over your arms where the team could see.

"yeah, doll. you're an amazing person and your powers help us so much. i mean, you saved millions just helping us get the weapon back from justin hammer. if you hadn't, well, who knows what could've been happening right now?" he places a gentle hand at the side of your head, stroking your hair.

"yeah and who heals us when we get really hurt during missions, huh? i mean, if you hadn't healed that stab wound i got during that mission in new mexico, i probably wouldn't even be here at this moment." clint tells you and you roll your eyes at him. "you're exaggerating."

"i am not!" he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes once again.

"y/n/n, i'm really sorry for—"

"i don't wanna hear it, stevie."

"but–"

"no. it's not your fault. shit happens." you brush him off. "lang–"

"you say language to me, i'll blame this shit on you even when it's not your fault. try me, rogers." you glare at the blond super soldier. he raises his arms in surrender, leaning back on his chair as the team laughs.

the team continue to entertain you and you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you. these were the people who would drop anything for you and were willing to dropkick any asshole in the face for hurting you. justin hammer never had a chance against your family to begin with.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg

#avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #bruce banner x teen!reader #bucky barnes x teen!reader #clint barton x teen!reader #marvel x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #peter parker x reader #tony stark x teen!reader #wanda maximoff x teen!reader

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timextoxhajima · 3 years ago

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [1]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, mentions of alcohol, SMUT *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: 2.8k, half of which is probably filth

taglist: @from-xero

{this is a work of fiction}

"i'm sorry, i just... i just don't see you that way."

the boy tries his hardest not to choke (or sob) as he lowers his head, the bouquet of flowers in his hands crinkling when he brings it down to his side.

he huffs, using his tongue to poke the inner sides of his cheeks as his grimace pulls out into a smirk.

you look at him with utmost guilt, fingers awkwardly intertwined with one another as you scan the distraught on his face.

"so..." he slowly nods, looking up from the floor. "not even the most popular person on campus can win you over, huh?"

the label strikes a chord in you.

honestly, you were just waiting for him to say those words. you hadn't expected the campus star boy to confess to you tonight, much less at his own graduation party.

he was two years your senior and frankly way out of your league - leaving you with absolutely no clue how he came about to develop feelings for you.

you had wondered if he was merely capitalising on your growing reputation as the 'innocent heartbreaker'.

the pretty, new, freshman who just couldn't seem to stop heads from turning.

one of those heads was his.

wooseok scoffs, obviously unhappy and dissatisfied with your response.

how dare the pretty freshman reject the hottest boy on campus?

"okay," wooseok nods, still holding out the flowers to you. "at least take the flowers, would you?"

grimly picking the golden-wrapped roses from him, you scan his eyes, glossed with a layer of tears as his nose sours.

"wooseok-"

"no, don't," he interrupts you, sucking in a deep breath as he puffs out his chest. the yelling from outside his bedroom door calls the both of your attention.

"the party's still going on until morning, are you staying?"

with a light shake of your head, you hug the flowers close to your chest. your heart slows down, calming from the fact that he had brought you in here just to confess and not something else you were afraid of.

the guilt sinks in when you realise you didn't trust wooseok all that much.

"okay, well..." he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. the silver shine off the school's logo on the varsity jacket glimmers under the room's ceiling light. "at least stay until we finish the first bottle of vodka? we have games later."

"oh, wooseok, i can't-"

"come on," he reaches forward and grabs your hands, his hands hot and warm. probably from the adrenaline he had to give himself to make this feat. "the first bottle."

you look up from his fingers and at his face, his fringe covering his eyes and casting sharp-angled shadows all over his lids.

your lips part, but before you can even utter a sound, he hops right in and exclaims with a grin on his face. "great! i'll see you around and come find me when you're leaving, okay?"

the smile lines extend from the sides of his nose and down to his lips, the shadow lines on his cheeks shifting as he turns on his heels, hands sliding off yours.

"i'll-" he points to his door, already reaching for the handle. "yeah. bye."

wooseok pulls the door open for him to exit, and right before he can shut the door behind him, his eyes come between the gap to take one last look at you.

the door clicks shut after he moves off first, and you're left with the roses in your arms, standing in the middle of his room, having just rejected the most sought-after bachelor in the school.

looking down at the roses once more, your finger-pads rub against the velvet petals, heart aching for him.

the neon lights in his room were casting a bright blue hue all over the walls and the carpeted ground, trophies for baseball and customised bats decorating almost every corner.

you turn to his bed, thinking of leaving the flowers on the cushion and leaving quietly through his window.

but your train of thought violently snapped into two when the party outside yells, followed by the loud thunking of the bass throughout the house.

the flowers are a reminder of how shit of a person you are.

you didn't ask to be a heartbreaker.

people tend to think you find joy in rejecting the brave ones who get their feelings across but you don't. not at all.

carefully laying the bouquet of flowers back onto his bed, you pull the door of his room open and step out into the hallway, the music blasting like everyone was deaf and hard of hearing.

the crowd in the living room comes into view when you start walking down the stairs - everybody jumping on beat to the likes of superbass and people yelling the all-time classic rap.

your knuckles whiten from gripping onto the wooden railings, unable to return yourself to the party when you've done broken the heart of the host himself.

so you turn on your heels, deciding to return to his room and crawl out through his window - only to be met by someone else.

"party's downstairs."

if you were the innocent heartbreaker...

then eric son was the vicious one - the male, sluttier equivalent of you.

"oh, well... party's not for me," you offer a tiny smile, slightly embarrassed to be caught making a u-turn.

eric tilts his head to the side, holding out an arm and resting it on the wooden railings. you lower your head, taking a step to your left in a bid to walk past him.

but you're stopped yet again by his arm reaching out, palm pressing flat into the concrete as he looks down at you.

you don't realise your fists are clenched (and sweating) until you rub them onto your dress.

"look, eric- i- i had a bad day and i just-"

"so walk out the front door," he raises a single brow, taking a step down and removing his hand off the wooden railing.

your feet fumble around each other in a bid not to topple down the stairs. turning to face you, he forces you to step back to maintain the safe distance between you.

"i don't want to make a scene-" the bad habit of picking your nails returns when your back hits the wall, and eric's standing an uncomfortable distance from you now.

"oh," he lifts his free hand and mirrors the other, keeping your neck between his forearms. but you are the scene. you can't just... leave."

a flustered chuckle runs through your throat as you lean your head back against the wall. "i don't have the time for this."

"make time for me," eric cocks his head to the side and glances down near the bottom of your face. "you can tell me about your bad day."

"i think i'll be fine on my own, thank you," carefully squatting and trying to shrink out from the wall-eric sandwich, your brows furrow as you shift.

but eric son buckles his arm and halves the distance he has between your faces, the sudden surge forcing you back upright.

now his breath is hot on your jaw and you turn away from him, lips pursed into a thin, tight line.

"the 'innocent heartbreaker'," he gently hums, fingers reaching up to play with the curled locks fallen around your upper arms. the fleeting brushes of his skin across yours draw out chills, and a harsh inhale twitches your facial expressions to his liking. "i can see why boys would fall for this."

with your eyes still glued to the party downstairs, you part your lips, wanting to explain yourself.

then eric, with the weight of feathers, reaches up to your chin and tilts it towards him.

his lips are parted as he slides his tongue across his teeth. he sighs softly, eyes travelling from yours to your lips and back up.

by now, you can feel his breath on your philtrum.

"you're pretty," he whispers, almost against your lips.

and your stomach plummets when he pulls away completely, the cool air rushing in to replace the bodily heat.

without breaking eye contact, even for a single second, eric pushes himself off the wall. lips drawn out into a wide smile, he adjusts his jacket and runs his hand through his hair.

"but not that pretty."

you don't realise your heart's racing until you feel your chest heaving, unknowingly panting from the unruly interaction the vicious heartbreaker has just provided you.

the world finally seeps back into view and into complete perfect audio, the music finally rumbling through you again when your eyes trail after eric, walking into the crowd jumping in the living room.

the taste of iron seeps out from the inside of your lips, and you dart your tongue across the mark that your teeth have left on your flesh.

clearing your throat and shaking the thought of eric out of your head, you turn back up the steps and head back into wooseok's bedroom.

the blue hues of the room start to sink into your consciousness again, the yellow shade of the bouquet wrap looking more like green under the lighting.

you take a moment to fester - over wooseok, over your reputation, over eric.

college just started and here you were, feeling guilty over something that wasn't even your fault.

the final decision comes to rest on your fingers in the form of pulling wooseok's window open, carefully lifting your feet and crawling under the glass.

now, troublemaker was playing, muffled but definitely loud enough to be heard at least 3 houses down the road. you climb onto the roof of his garage, eyes scanning to cars parked outside and along the road.

you stride to the side where you know wooseok had a wooden plating attached to one of the walls, fake vines intertwined between the planks.

it's a relief when your feet meet the concrete ground, and nobody was in sight - until you back up into someone's chest and you turn to find eric, again.

"what in the world-"

he cuts you off by grabbing your waist, slotting his lips between yours and holding your chin to align your faces.

you were nearly bought into it, but the consciousness seeps back into you and you rip your face off his, palms one his chest with his hands still on your waist.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

"you already know I'm leaving."

"you can't leave just yet."

"why the hell not?"

"because I'm not done with you."

with a low huff, he hoists you up onto his hips, lips crashing onto yours as he walks you backwards, your shoulder blades hitting the wall where you had climbed down from.

there's a gentle rattle when he keeps you up against the wooden planks, his palms riding the skirt of your dress up and over your hips.

his fingers slide under the material of your underwear hugging your pelvis, hot skin gripping onto the flesh of your rear.

then you hear a tear amongst the mess he's making on your lips, and the material of your underwear loosens.

"what the-"

"shh," he smirks, now turning his head into your neck to nip on your jaw. your chest heaves from the sensitivity, the fluttering sensation of his lips on your neck drilling chills all through you. "make a sound and everyone will know you couldn't say no to me."

conscience returns to you for a split second.

"eric- we can't-"

before you can finish your sentence, eric drags the thin material out from under you and dangles it before you, his eyes clouded and dark.

the darkened patch of material on your underwear washes your face in pink and heat.

"you were saying?"

your stomach plummets, and you now register the coolness on your core. eric smiles, rolling up the material to shove it into his pocket.

"eric-" your fingers dig into his left forearm as they return to the wall by your head, his right carefully undoing his belt.

the clink of the metal followed by the zipper coming undone forms a knot in your stomach already, then his fingers coming to spread your neediness all over you forces a sharp whimper up your lungs.

"I've done nothing..." he shakes his head, sliding a single finger up and down your core. "and you are so wet."

he lifts his finger from under your skirt, his fingers glistening under the sharp, fluorescent lighting.

your hooded lids are just about tearing with the overwhelming ache that's throbbing through you, and he makes it worse by running his tongue all over his finger.

eric's pride swells when a whine escapes your throat, and he presses himself into you, chest against yours with his hands digging into your thighs. your arms circle around his shoulders, pulling him closer for a deep, slow kiss.

he prods against you, the throbbing ache spiking when his manhood rubs against your core. groaning into the kiss, your entire being squirms between him and the wall with the muffled music still blasting from the living room.

he doesn't bother to wait for you before he finds his manhood and aligns it with your entrance, gently prodding before sliding himself in like it was meant to be.

he buries himself inside you by holding your thighs around his hips even tighter, drawing a low and prolonged moan from your lips.

eric pulls away, pressing his forehead into yours to let you breathe. but he finds some kind of sadistic pleasure when he pulls his hips away, only to slam right back in, earning a sharp yelp from you.

"go any louder, princess, and i won't be the only one enjoying this."

he grins to himself, licking his lips before diving into your neck and picking at all the right spots. every kiss and nibble earned him a moan or a mewl and it ruins your pride over and over to know that you had just broken someone's heart tonight.

yet you were outside that someone's house, letting eric rail you like he owned you.

your fingers claw and grip at his shirt as you feel your back jerk and rock against the wooden plank. with every thrust he offers you, he sounds like he's laughing and panting at the same time, the hot breath on your neck making you writhe in a guilty pleasure.

he offers a few slower thrusts before grabbing your chin to look at him, eyes slightly fucked out and your thighs tired from keeping your body locked to his.

slowly pulling out and sliding back in, he takes the time to revel in the way your brows furrow and your lips fall apart, your curled hair now a mess around your chest and shoulders.

"that's it, princess," he leans into your ear and coos. "tell me how good that feels."

unable to form a coherent word in your head, you whine in response, pulling his face to yours and planting your lips onto his with every ounce of energy left in you.

his hands fumble under your skirt and find your sensitivity, pressing his thumb flat onto you. the pressure jerks you upwards and he takes the opportunity to reposition himself, changing the angle ever so slightly.

by some miracle, the tip of him buried inside you finds the magic spot, and when he picks up his pace, the knot starts to find you in eternal bliss.

eric pulls away again, huffing as he thrusts himself into you, fingers flicking and abusing you as if your legs weren't already shaking and convulsing around his hips.

"good girl," his breath is heavy on your jaw as he plants a few wet kisses there, his pants bringing you to some newer heights. your vision starts to fade into white with a few more thrusts and his fingers dig into your thighs when your lower body starts to spasm.

muscles flexing, your entire body squirms and trembles as you meet your high.

then eric hurriedly pulls out, the hot fluid dribbling all over the ground under you.

while you come down from your high, eric's strained grunts rumble through his torso under your arms. the vein that popped out on his neck was still there, and your senses only allow enough for you to focus on eric now.

he bites on his bottom lip and pushes his hair back with a deep inhale. he turns to you, eyes wide open and clear.

"not such an innocent princess now, are you?"

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #eric smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn smut #eric sohn imagines #eric x reader smut #eric x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader

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thebangtancloud · 3 years ago

Text

He's fascinated by something you do - Min Yoongi

"Wait wait- I don't think this is a good idea," Yoongi's fearful voice made you throw your head back in laughter.

"You were the one who wanted to do this, Yoongi." You reminded him, a smirk playing on your lips as you placed the helmet over your head.

"Here," you reached for the other helmet, holding it out for him.

"Really (Y/n)? A pink helmet?" He deadpanned, eyebrows raising in mock disgust.

"Well... I don't have another one." You simply shrugged.

"Yes you do, give me that one." He pointed towards the dark blue helmet you were wearing. You shook your head, quickly jumping onto the motorcycle before he could stop you.

"Suck it up and wear it, there's no one to notice anyway."

The momentary silence that followed brought a short giggle out of your mouth, you could almost feel him rolling his eyes, even though you were gazing at the trees along the road in front of you.

"I don't trust you." Yoongi spoke, shifting on his legs and placing a hand on his hip. He tapped his foot on the ground a few times, waiting for you to change your mind. Which obviously wasn't going to happen.

"Okay, I'll go by myself then, bye Sugar," you rolled your tongue at the mention of his name, hitting the pedal and starting the motorcycle. Holding down on the brakes, you accelerated a few times, smiling at the sound of the roaring engines.

"You wouldn't." He scoffed, turning around and throwing his hands into the air in disbelief.

"Watch me." You accepted the challenge, letting go of the brakes moments after sending a finger heart in his direction, the motorcycle zooming past him. His eyes widened, mouth opening slowly as he watched you ride confidently, your cute laugh echoing distantly.

You took a smooth turn, increasing your speed as you raced back to your starting point, stopping with a swift turn just inches away from him. He took a few steps back in shock.

"So? What do you think?" You giggled, removing the helmet and placing it on the gas tank in front of you.

His mouth formed an 'O', eyes trailing over your body like you were an alien.

"I've never seen a girl ride a motorcycle before." He stated, running his hands through his hair.

"That sucks, I've seen plenty. Are you getting on?" You pointed towards the seat behind you.

"Um..." He hesitated, laughing awkwardly.

"Oh no, are you scared? Lil meow meow is scared? Awww," you purred, pouting your lips to tease him.

"Stoppp," he whined, putting the helmet on and swinging his leg over the bike to sit behind you. He held onto the bars behind him, nodding quickly. "Go."

You turned your head to look at him, then looked down at the distance that he maintained between the two of you.

"You can hold onto me, you know?"

You could see him blink a few times, his tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. "I'm holding onto these bars, I'm fine. You can go."

"Are you really that scared Yoongi?"

"Why would I be?"

"You're sweating."

"It's hot."

"Who? Me?"

"Very funny, you're not hot. You're scary."

"That means you are scared." You giggled.

He gave you a look, raising his hand to twist your head forward so that you were now looking at the road. "Can we just go? I'm getting hungry."

Laughing it off, you smirked before starting the bike again, putting your helmet on and grabbing the brakes. "You ready?"

You heard a muffled 'yes', taking that as your green signal.

"If you ever need to hold onto me, you can, okay?"

"That won't be necess- woaahh!" He exclaimed, legs lifting off of the support as his body bent backwards. His eyes widened behind the shield, one hand reaching forward to grab onto your jacket to pull himself back into place.

"Are you crazy? Do you plan on killing me?" He shouted, patting your shoulder vigorously to get you to slow down. You only shook your head and laughed happily, pulling his hand around you to sit against your stomach.

His heart was racing, booming loudly in his ears. "Do you trust me?"

He gulped, shaking his head. "No."

"I know you do, that's why you're sitting on my bike and not at home right now."

He quickly caught onto you with his other hand, moving his body closer to yours. "I trust Jin hyung, he rides well, you ride recklessly."

"This is fun, Sugar."

You reached a turn, his eyes widening when your speed decreased ever so slightly, the bike bending towards the ground as you skillfully took a wide turn. He squeezed your jacket, eyes closing tightly as a short squeal left his mouth. "Oh my god, I almost died!"

You laughed loudly, your head falling back and hitting his helmet. "You're so dramatic Yoongi."

Slowing down, your body relaxed as you resumed a steady speed. The whoosh around you quietened and your eyes could finally focus on the trees that were blurred out just a few moments ago. His hold on your jacket loosened, but he still stuck close to you, his chest pressed onto your back.

You sighed softly. "Is this better?"

He hummed, looking around and breathing out heavily. "It's beautiful."

You nodded, looking up and noticing the grey clouds. "It might rain."

"Then let it rain."

You stopped at the side of the road, your hands shivering and face flushed red. Pulling off your helmet, you let your hair fall all over the place, running your fingers through them. You felt Yoongi slide off of the bike, dropping to the floor and screaming dramatically. "This woman almost killed me!"

"You're such a big baby," you rolled your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face nevertheless. Sniffing loudly, you put the bike on its stand, swinging your leg over it and settling down on the ground beside him.

He looked at your face for a moment, raising his hand to touch your nose. "Are you feeling cold?"

You nodded, pulling your jacket tighter around your body. He sat up, rubbing his hands together for a few seconds to warm them up, before placing them on your cheeks. BLISS. Closing your eyes at the warmth of his hands, you sighed in satisfaction. "This feels good."

He repeated it a few times, scooting closer to you. "We should go back before it rains." He commented, his voice dropping to a whisper when he noticed how close he was to your face.

Yoongi observed your features, the pink shade that tinted your cheeks, your eyelashes that were softly resting against your skin, your lips that were glistening with lip gloss. He inhaled your scent, willing his mind to remember it for as long as he could. His heart suddenly skipped a beat, looking away for a moment to compose himself.

Your eyes flickered open at the loss of contact, noticing the way he was nervously chewing on his lip. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." You shrugged, grabbing his hands and placing yours in between them. You smiled sweetly, "my hands are cold too."

The corners of his lips turned upward, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling them towards his jacket, slipping your intertwined hands into his pocket. The movement caused you to lurch forward, your face now inches away from him.

His eyes trailed down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "Have you ever been kissed in the rain before?"

You gulped, "Um...no."

"Would you like that?" He raised his eyebrows.

"It's not raining yet?"

As if on cue, a raindrop fell against your cheek, your eyes snapping shut in surprise. "That scared me," you gasped, a wide smile on your face. A few more raindrops began to fall and you looked up with squinted eyes, giggling playfully.

"I love the rain!" You looked back to him, blinking rapidly. His gaze was steady, never leaving your eyes, brows furrowed in thought. "I love you."

You stopped breathing, your jaw slowly falling open. "What?"

"I think I'm in love with you (Y/n)."

You didn't know how to respond, your throat going dry. "I think I've always been in love with you." He swallowed, words thick with emotion.

"Yoongi..."

"I've loved you since the day I first met you, when you slipped and fell right in front of me. I wanted to crack a joke and ask you if you fell for me, but I later realised that it was me who fell for you." His eyes dropped to his lap, the rain falling with full force. His hair sat flat against his forehead, raindrops sliding down his nose and onto the ground.

"I love it when you call me 'Sugar'. I used to hate when people would call me that, but it got me confused when I didn't mind you calling me that." A short laugh escaped his lips. He squeezed your hands in his pocket, looking back up at you.

"I love your little quirks, the way you spontaneously cook the weirdest of meals when you're bored, the way you randomly start dancing with Jimin, and the way you rode the motorcycle today, damn. You almost killed me, but that's cool." He chuckled. You slipped one hand out of his pocket, slapping his shoulder playfully.

"You're still alive, don't be so dramatic." He chuckled along with you, flicking his head to the side to get a wet strand of hair out of his eyes. You instinctively reached forward, doing the job for him. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment, never breaking eye contact with him.

"Is this why I am always happy when I'm with you?" You whispered softly, Yoongi moving closer to hear you better. A soft smile graces his features, shrugging cutely. "Maybe."

A warm feeling rushed through your body, throwing your head back in laughter at the realisation, "Oh my goodness, I might actually be in love with you too."

His body grew still, his hold on your hand tightening. He grabbed the side of your face with his free hand, frowning. He suddenly looked so small, so vulnerable. "Really?"

You shrugged, teasing him by copying his words, "Maybe."

His frown deepened, a slight pout appearing on his lips. "You know, I used to think you liked Jimin and not me. You're so free with him. The two of you share so many interests too, you both like spicy food, you both dance well, I've seen you both working out together too."

"Have you ever seen him on my motorcycle?"

He was silent for a moment, a knowing smile growing on his face. "No."

"I don't just take anyone on my bike Yoongi, only special people."

"So I'm special huh?"

"Yeah, but you have some competition though."

His eyes grew wide, gasping and letting go of your hands. "Who? Jimin?"

The smirk on your face was so deep it almost began to hurt your cheeks, "No, Harry."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a fire burning behind his eyes, "Who's Harry?"

"Oh you know..." You bent forward, fitting your hand against his face, gazing lovingly at him, "my first love." Your eyes trailed down to his lips, glistening and pink from all the biting that he found himself doing whenever he was nervous.

"Why is your first love my competition now?" Yoongi's voice was rushed, laced with jealousy. He grabbed your hand, pulling it against his lap as if he was scared you'd slip away from him any moment.

"Because he's still in my life Sugar."

"But you said you love me." He pouted, pulling you closer to him.

"I also said that Harry is my first love." His eyes widened in shock, pupils shaking as he tried to come up with a response.

"Is he handsome?"

You chuckled, turning your head slightly to look behind you, "Oh, he's beautiful."

His jaw clenched involuntarily, grabbing your face and turning it back to him. "I don't care."

"Why? You were the one who asked me Yoongi, are you nervous he might steal my heart away from you?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it soon after, somehow dumbfounded. He seemed to think over your words, letting his thumb wipe away the raindrops that were collecting near your eyes.

"Away from me?"

Smiling softly, you nodded. "You already have my heart, Min Yoongi." You gave him a second to accept your answer, before inching closer to him, your eyes fluttering closed and stopping your journey just before your lips touched his. He seemed to take your hint, his fingers slipping further into your hair to grip the back of your head, pulling you against him and placing his lips against yours. Neither of you moved, just staying there with your lips fitting against each other, his hold on your head firm yet soft as he tilted his head slightly.

A violent shiver that ran through your body broke you away from him, looking down as your teeth began to chatter. He didn't hesitate to pull you into him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and trying to cover you with his jacket.

"We should really go back before you get sick." He nodded to himself, standing up and pulling you up by your wrist. You stumbled, you legs numb from sitting so long.

"Careful," Yoongi warned, slipping an arm under yours to grip your body against him. He smiled down at you, wiping away the rain that kept falling into your eyes.

"Actors make kissing in the rain look so easy." You complained, resting your head against his shoulder. A loud laugh boomed through his chest, his body moving as he bent forward to catch his breath. He caught your shoulders and moved you away from him, bending down and stealing a quick kiss before you could protest.

"We can continue later, I promise." He assured you, picking up your helmet and placing it over your head. "Will you be able to ride the bike through the rain? Should I call a cab?"

"We left our phones at home Yoongi," you rolled your eyes, sitting on the bike and motioning for him to follow your actions. The helmet hid the shy smile that graced your features when he sat behind you, only this time sitting much closer to you and wrapping his arms around your middle.

"I trust you."

Your heart was swelling with love, butterflies going crazy in your stomach. You adjusted the rearview mirror, catching his eye and nodding at him.

Halfway through the journey, you felt the urge to tease Yoongi again.

"Ah, he's so beautiful."

"Who?"

"Harry."

"Who's Harryyyy?" He whined.

You began to laugh loudly, the bike shaking slightly as you left the handle to grip your stomach.

"Oh Yoongi," a tear slipped out of your eyes, short giggles escaping your lips.

"You're literally sitting on Harry."

And you swore you would literally kill to catch a glimpse of his reaction again.

"I hate you."

"I love you too, Sugar."

OH MY GOD I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS TURNED INTO A CONFESSION LOL. I swear, sometimes I can't get enough of Min Yoongi.

On a side note, I haven't been able to write a lot, I'm so busy with shifting and exams and everything is so stressful. I'm hopeful that things would get better soon.

Have you all been well? I hope you guys are happy and loving and treating yourselves well. Don't forget to stay hydrated! 💜

Series Masterlist.

Masterlist.

#bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts jhope #bts taehyung #bts jimim #bts jin #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts fluff

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captains-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Put On A Show

(This isn't what she looks like in this fic but it is the ✨I'm gonna make you see the stars vibe✨)

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word Count: 3,569

Includes: lil bit of public teasing, thigh grinding, edging, gagging on fingers, praise, strap on, overstimulation and oral

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being an Avenger taught you to handle a lot of difficult situations.

You knew how to take down a state of the art quinjet in a minute. You could survive on an unknown planet. You had played a significant part in tracking down and rounding up the last Hydra agents.

And yet no one had ever prepared you to be stuck in a room with a hundred arrogant business men who were desperately trying to impress you with what they thought was power.

You were certain you could have better conversations with a caveman.

You weren't a superspy like Natasha. You couldn't fake interest, put on a realistic smile and pretend to enjoy yourself like she could.

You weren't Tony who genuinely enjoyed himself at those kind of parties and thrived at being the center of attention.

And you weren't Carol who didn't need either of those things. If she didn't want to talk to someone, she wouldn't. It only took one of her looks to make any of the leaches hurry away. She didn't have to worry about the repercussions of doing so because there weren't any. Non of the guests would ever be willing to admit they were intimidated by a woman.

Not that you were jealous of what Carol had. Carol wasn't the kind of person you wanted to be, but she sure as hell was the kind of person you wanted to be with. And that woman was one of a kind.

The distraction of the Captain was definetly not helping you keep your cool. She wore a tight fitting dark blue suit that you had been struggling to stop yourself staring at ever since you had first seen it. Her hair was hanging loose at her shoulders and had become messy from the amount of times she had run her slim hand through it. That alone had your mind reeling of what other ways you could get it to look like that.

You had been lucky so far, everytime you stole a glance at the Captain and her attire she happened to be in convosation with someone else. Although that meant you two hadn't exchanged a single word that night.

Thankfully, you had soon learnt that half of the guests never actually noticed if you zoned out, perfectly content to continue rambling about themselves. While others could zone out themselves as they talked...while they stared at your chest and feuling your urge to smack them.

You were in a dress that you hadn't bought and were far from comfortable in around these people. A thin glass of champagne was clutched firmly in your hand and you predicted it would shatter by the end of the night. You had lost count of how many you had downed with your back turned, stopping once you felt lightheaded.

You had regretted it at first, but you became internally grateful you had saved your heightened senses when you felt a familiar hand rest on your lower back.

Training almost everyday with the blonde Captain had familiarised you with her firm grip and reassuring touch. It was the only kind of contact you had gotten from her until that moment and you treasured it greatly, praying Carol hadn't noticed your slight faulted at the knees.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal this one." Carol stated in a very unafraid tone as her hand pressed into you more. You wanted to melt into her touch.

The man you had been not-really-listening to (because you could not for the life of you remember anyone's name) opened his mouth to speak and probably try to get Carol to stay, was ignored by the blonde who was already guiding you away with her hand.

Of course you didn't protest, throwing a party over it in your head while the butterflies in your stomach danced along to the music. You didn't even realise Carol was leading you to the bar, too focused on the fact her hand never left your back as she walked beside you without a word.

You did however, realise when you almost walked into the bar stall before gracefully (that's what you told yourself) sliding onto the stool. Carol sat down next to you and said something to the bartender you didn't hear or really care about.

When she did look back at you her gaze was piecing along with her usual confident aura. Anyone who pulled off a suit the way Carol did had every right to some arrogance, especially as it somehow made her even more attractive.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." Carol said with a knowing smile.

"I don't think you'll be seeing me in one ever again." You respond as you glance anywhere but Carol, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"I'll have to treasure the memory even more then. You look beautiful." Carol compliments and watches you blush.

"You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Captain."

You don't fail to notice the way her jaw tightens slightly at the title, but she's quick to pass it off when the bartender places two bottles down on the counter.

You realise you're still holding your champagne so you put it on the side to swap it with small bottle of beer, already taking a sip to have something to do instead of figiting under Carol's gaze.

"I didn't need you to say it, you know? You undressing me with your eyes was telling enough." You choked slightly on your drink the moment those words left her lips, embarrassment shooting down every last butterfly in your stomach.

"I-I wasn't- it was an accident- I mean! I- um..." Carol watched you ramble with an amused grin and took a sip of her beer herself.

You could feel your cheeks heating up and your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"I was enjoying the attention." Carol smirked as she moved closer to you so the faint smell of her expensive perfume overtook your senses.

You had been so sure the whole night that Carol hadn't noticed what you were doing. You thought you had gotten away with it all. Natasha's tips on concealing emotions and thoughts were clearly paying off on Carol more than you.

"And its not like it's the first time." Carol almost whispered as her voice dropped in a way that went straight to your core.

The Captain placed a gentle but firm hand on your bare knee as she studied you. Her brown eyes flickered across your face while your own y/e/c eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"Is this a test?" You whispered under your breath.

"Perhaps." She whispered back as her fingers stroked your bare skin slowly. "I'm sure I could test you some other ways though." Her hand was along your thigh now. You desperetly wanted to grab it and pull it up further but you had to remember you were in a room full of very important people.

Carol noticed you glance around the room and must have known what you were thinking because she smirked slightly before withdrawing her hand and standing up from the stall.

"Come." She ordered. You felt goosebumps across your whole body and hoped it wouldn't be the last time you heard her say that tonight.

You restrained yourself to waiting a few seconds before following Carol in the most subtle way you could manage when you wanted to sprint over to her side.

You weren't really aware of where Carol was leading you, but once you rounded the corner away from the party you sped up to close the distance between you both.

After rounding a few corners of the complicated hallway you realised you had lost sight of the Captain. Just as you were about to risk calling out her name a strong hand gripped your forearm and pulled you out of the corridor and into Carol's arms.

Her lips were on yours instantly. She had you backed into a wall before you could comprehend any of what was happened but her kiss was so eager you returned it without any thought.

The blonde's lips were unbelievably soft. They felt perfect against your own as you tried to match her pace.

Her hands were cupping your face with surprising gentleness so you wrapped your hands around her neck to pull her impossibly closer, accidently pulling on a few strands and earning a low groan from her.

She bit down on your lip harshly, making you moan audibly until you were muffled by her tongue invading your mouth.

You could taste the beer both of you had barely started and something else that was strikingly Carol. It was intoxicating and you didn't want it to end.

The friction Carol sparked when she pressed one of her muscular thighs between your bare legs was sinfully blissful. You moaned into Carol's mouth when you felt her very deliberately press against your heat and apply a teasing amount of pressure to your throbbing clit.

"Carol." You whispered her name like a chant. She smirked against you as she turned her attention to you jaw then neck, nipping and sucking at the skin exposed to her. You arched your neck to give her more access and felt your breathing become laboured.

This probably wasn't helped by Carol's hand on your bare thigh, gripping the skin in a much firmer way than she had at the bar and venturing further up.

Her hand disappeared beneath your dress in no time, massaging every inch of skin she came across.

You couldn't help it. Her warm lips, her strong hands and invasive thigh made you feel lightheaded and you couldn't stop your instincts of grinding yourself on Carol's thigh.

You desperatly sought more friction that your Captain's thigh could produce. What started as small rotations of your hips soon turned into full on desperate grinding. Your thin panties were soaked and clung to your skin, you were sure you were going to leave patches on Carol's expensive suit trousers but both of you were far from caring.

You could feel Carol continue to smirk into your neck with each mewl that left your lips. She grabbed your hands and pinned them against the wall above your head and that somehow made you needier.

The beautiful friction against your clit was one that had you moaning Carol's name continuously. It didn't take long for the familiar coil to tighten in your power abdomen and making your movements increasingly erratic.

You bucked against your Captain as you sought you sweet release only to have it pulled away from you.

Carol stepped away with a shit eating grin as she watched you struggle to hold yourself against the wall and give her a confused look.

"Why?" Was all you could manage, embarrassingly out of breath.

"Because I can." She smirked. "Did you want to cum, baby? Do you want to feel your release?"

"Please." You said shamelessly as you gave her a pleading look from your vulnerable position.

"Then be a good girl and bend over that desk for me."

You hadn't even noticed you were in an office, too busy trying to get yourself off on Carol's thigh than take in your surroundings. You didn't hesitate to place your hands on the far side of the desk and bend yourself over it so your ass was out for Carol. You glanced behind you to see Carol smirking as she took in your appearance in the new position.

She stalked towards you and placed a hand on the back of your thigh while the other pushed your back down further into the table. Her hand trailed up under your dress before she ran her fingers over the material covering your ass. Her movements were slow and teasing, trying to enhance your desperation to a place you wouldn't come back from that night.

Her slim fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties and gradually pulled them down, subsequently allowing her fingers to brush over your ass.

Once the thin material dropped to your feet Carol had you spread your legs for her as far as you could while she lifted your dress over your hips.

You guessed she really did like the dress.

Your pussy pulled around nothing as it was exposed to the cold air of the room and Carol's teasing fingers ghosting over your skin.

"Eyes front." She said as she stood back. It was hard to resist the urge to turn around and look when you could hear Carol undoing her belt buckle.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan when the blonde brushed the silicone against your folds. You were both shocked and aroused at the discovery that the Captain had been packing all night. You wanted her more at the thought that she had planned this.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt two slim fingers against your lips. You opened your mouth to allow Carol to slip her fingers in and tried not to moan around them at the heated gesture.

You sucked eagerly on Carol's fingers in an attempt to please her and hope it would give you some preparation for the girthy strap. It wouldn't.

You were caught off guard again when Carol continued to push her fingers forward, further than you were expecting at first then more than you could take. You gagged around her fingers and heard a chuckle from your sadistic Captain.

"Good girl." She whispered against your ear before biting down softly.

You were so caught up in the praise you almost forgot about the strap until Carol nudged it between your lips. You tried to grip onto the table more as she slowly pushed the head into your soaking pussy and moaned around her fingers still tickling the back of your throat.

You were extremely unprepared to take something that size, but that only spurred Carol on more and added to your arousal that had your lower lips slick for the strap to ease into you.

Once Carol was half way she paused when you started breathing heavily through your nose as you continued to suck her fingers. But the break was short and without any warning, the Captain thrust the rest of the girthy toy into your cunt.

You moaned around her fingers and pressed your head further into the desk. Carol barely gave you a chance to adjust to the filling of being so full. You're reminded of her impatient nature when she pulls the silicone toy out to the hilt before snapping her hips back against you and causing the strap to burry itself deep inside you again.

You knew Carol was strong and you had seen her doing hip thrusts in the gym before, but you had never imagined the force she would be able to muster when slamming the fake cock into you over and over.

Carol eventually took her fingers away from your mouth and wiped your saliva along the side of your neck before gripping it in her hands, threatening to cut off your breathing and blood flow.

Her pace never faulted. It brought you an intense amount of pleasure everytime that had you stumbling over your words.

'Carol...please...it's- I...so good." Was all you were able to say.

Her name fell from your lips over and over as your cunt clenched around the invading toy. It never failed to hit the hilt of your pussy and brushes against your most pleasurable spot, every movement made it brush some incredible nerve.

You moaned louder as you tried to fuck yourself back on her strap. You were so close to your orgasm and it had already been set up to be the best fuck you ever had so you were so desperate to finally reach it.

"Are you gonna cum for your Captain?" Carol asked as her thighs continued to slap against your own.

"Yes Captain! Please...I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me." She husks as she brings you over the edge and flying through your orgasm. You completely slump against the desk and Carol fucks you through your high.

White blanks appear in your vision but you're too out of it to care.

You're moaning, almost screaming, in the pleasure that's overwhelming you and you don't realise how sensitive you are until Carol continues to pound the strap into you.

"Carol..." You whine at her perfect pace. She's still going so hard, so fast, and fuck she's so deep inside you.

The vigor of her first fucking already had your pussy overworked and sensitive, and yet you can't stop yourself from incoherently begging her not to stop.

"Please Captain! Don...don't stop...so good- so good!" You cry out as another orgasm crashes over you.

You're shuddering now but still swimming in pleasure. You can't stop yourself from bucking yourself back against her.

Carol holds your hips down firmly as she thrusts the strap into your overworked cunt. They're less coordinated this time, more about establishing the control Carol has over you.

You can't form any words this time. The only sounds in the room is Carol's thighs slapping against yours, your whorish moans and the thick strap fucking your leaking pussy. You were vaguely aware of the audible sounds of your pussy before you break into your third earth shattering orgasm.

You're completly limp against the desk and trying your best to breathe normally.

Your pussy is throbbing and pulsing around the strap that Carol very slowly eases out of you and leaves you feeling extremly empty and sore. You know you're gonna be feeling it the next day.

"I don't think I can stand." You finally muttered weakly, not trusting your legs to even attempt to let go of the desk beneath you.

"You don't need to. Get on your knees." Carol ordered from behind you. You shivered at her words and tried to take a moment to compose yourself but the blonde was apparently growing impatient...again.

She held your hips with an iron grip and flipped you onto your back to see her towering over you. You used your arms to help you into a sitting position on the edge of the table before falling down onto you knees infront of your Captain.

Your knees ached from landing on the hard floor but you were much more focused on the smirk playing on Carol's soft lips.

"So obedient, such a good girl for me." Carol cooed as she ran her fingers through your hair and pulled you towards her now strapless core. You could see her pink folds glistening in arousal and you wanted nothing more than to taste her.

"Use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum, baby." Carol instructed.

You wasted no time. You licked an eager strip through the blonde's folds and moaned against her as you collected her wetness on your tongue. She was so sweet and you were instantly addicted.

You did this a few more times, pushing your tongue further between her folds everytime until you couldn't hold off anymore.

You gripped the back of Carol's thighs and sunk your tongue between her folds. The moan she gave in response made your stomach flip and swell with pride. It was like discovering a new song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

You retracted your tongue and began sucking softly on Carol's wet folds to taste as much of her wetness as your could. You then switched your attention to her throbbing clit and sucked it harshly into your mouth.

"Fuck so good! You've got such a good mouth." Carol praised continuously as you pulled out all of your tricks in hopes of pleasing her.

You kept alternating between fucking her with your tongue as deeply as you could to taking her neglected bud in your mouth. Your efforts soon paid off.

Carol grinded herself against your mouth as she cursed and praised you amongst moans. She was gripping your hair so tightly you couldn't help but moan into her, aiding her pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck!" She gasped out as you sucked as harshly as you could on her clit.

Her bundle of nerves pulsed in your mouth and you could feel her cunt clenching around nothing as she came with a cry of your name.

She sounded so good when she came. You wanted to hear it again, to see her. But once Carol had finished her high and you had lapped up every last bit of her white liquid she pushed you back gently.

She sat back on the dest as she regained her steady breathing and tapped her lap as she smiled at you.

You had just about enough strength mustered in your legs to allow you to stand up from your position and sit on Carol's lap.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and cupped your cheek with her hand to pull you in for a kiss. She smiled against you as she tasted herself on your lips and kissed you longingly.

"You were everything I dreamed you would be, baby. You did so good for me." You blushed under her praise and buried your head in the crook of her neck in exhaustion but mainly comfort.

Neither of you had any intentions to return to the party after that.

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel smut #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers smut #carol danvers x reader #marvel #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel imagine

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shadowworks · 4 years ago

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

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