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nekomawrites · 3 years ago

Text

- strangers

pairing: atsumu x reader

genre: right person, wrong time

cw/tw: time skip stuff, breakups, mild angst, reunited lovers, not beta read we die like real men here

If there was one thing that you knew, it’s that Miya Atsumu would always be a constant in your life. He had a presence that demanded attention, accompanied by a confident smile and eyes that screamed trouble. He isn’t someone that is easy to forget, let alone completely avoid.

You knew this, and you treaded very carefully whenever Atsumu would try his charm with you. During your years at Inarizaki, you made an effort to set boundaries between the two of you, brushing off his attempts at flirting. He’s just like that to everyone, you’d excuse. But at some point, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with Atsumu.

Thinking back on it now, you chuckle at yourself. Your question had been answered, after all. You gave him one chance, and he had never once let you down. Contrary to belief, Atsumu was never a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was a really great one. Attentive and charming, supportive and always proud as hell of your accomplishments. So, what exactly happened?

Time, really. You were pursuing a degree in Tokyo while he was chasing his dream of being a pro volleyball player in Osaka. At first, you both tried to make things work. Yeah, the distance was a pain, but you believed that you could manage. You both were very understanding of each other’s schedules and supportive of each other’s respective dreams, but it became too much. The further you got in your academics and he into his career, the less time you had for each other. Phone calls were scarce, countless date nights rescheduled, and at some point you both had just stopped trying. You were entering your final semester and he had broken out as a star player for MSBY. Your priorities were no longer to each other or your relationship anymore, but to your dreams.

“I think we should break up.” Said Atsumu one night. You were both back home in Hyogo, him having a break in his training and you having just ended your first semester into your third year. Atsumu had prepared for the worst. He was ready for you to be angry and upset, he was ready for you to scream and curse at him and even for you to cry and never want to see him again. But the last thing he expected was for you to agree with him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” You nod, turning so you face Atsumu, a sad smile on your face. You can see the tears gather in the corner of his eyes, and you’re sure you have your own as well.

“I love ya, y’know?” He says, his voice wavering as he pulls you close to him, his lips finding place on the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. If anything was true, it was that you both loved each other dearly and that would never change.

“I know.” You reply, savoring the feeling of him. “And I love you, so, so much ‘Tsumu.” He has to choke back a sob at the nickname.

You broke the embrace first, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you tried to keep it together. Even though this was amicable, it still didn’t hurt any less. Giving him a watery smile, you lean forward and give him a soft kiss. Atsumu knew you, and he knew what each of your kisses meant. This is the one you’d share whenever you two had to leave each other for a while, only this time it’s permanent. This is you saying goodbye.

“You’re going to go back to Osaka and kill it. You are going to be a household name, Miya Atsumu, I just know it.” Your smile nearly killed him. He didn’t want to break up with you, but he couldn’t keep letting your relationship be put on the back burner. You were it for him, and he had thought that you two would end up together. Maybe in another life, he thought bitterly.

“I’ll see you around, Atsumu. If you’re ever in Tokyo, don’t be a stranger, okay?” Atsumu chuckled. You really were the best person, weren’t you?

“Okay.”

“I don’t care whose fault this is, but it’s a PR nightmare, and I need you to fix it.” You say into your phone.

“Isn’t that your job, kitten?”

You groan, rubbing your temples with your fingers. You could already feel the oncoming headache.

“My job is to make sure all of Japan’s national athletes behave during the next couple of weeks, your’s is to make my life easier.” Pausing, you let out a sigh. “Kuroo, if you could please get this taken care of, I would really appreciate it.” You say softly.

“Enough to go on a date with me?” Asked Kuroo. You could feel him smirking through the phone, and you had half of a mind to strangle him. But before you could chew him out, Kuroo chuckled.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll get this taken care of. You know I have your back.” You smile, your body relaxing at Kuroo’s reassuring words. Even though he could be an ass about it, Kuroo did always have your back in the toughest of times.

As you bid your goodbyes, you ungracefully flopped back into your chair. If you knew 5 years ago that you’d be managing an entire country’s public image, you probably would’ve had a stroke. Yes, you loved your job. You enjoyed making friends with the most talented athletes in the country. However, they were all children, which made your job infinitely harder. You were, essentially, a glorified babysitter. You are in charge of all of their social media presences, along with monitoring their behavior in the Olympic village and keeping them in line. There was a reason you constantly had a bottle of Tylenol on you, after all.

“Um, [L/N]-san?” Your assistant, Haru, called, poking her head in your office. Turning your chair, you faced your assistant, still in your slumped position.

“Yes?” You ask, not even bothering to sit up.

“Coach Hibarida is here.” She said, causing your to jump up from your unprofessional position. Standing up from your desk, you smoothed out your clothes. Haru gave you a thumbs up before guiding Coach Hibarida into your office.

“Hello, Coach Hibarida, it is so nice to see-” You pause, watching as several people trail right behind him. Well, people would be a bit of a stretch. Greek gods would be a more appropriate description.

“-you.” You finish, trailing off as Haru gives you a panicked expression. You silently dismiss her, giving her a reassuring look.

“I apologize about this [L/N]-san, but I thought it would be best if some of the newer players came to meet you personally.” Hibarida said sheepishly, giving you a polite smile. Withholding the urge to sigh, you nod instead. From your few interactions, Hibarida is a kind man, and he wouldn’t generally impose unless there was an underlying reason. Great, you think. He has troublemakers.

“That does make sense.” You say. Turning towards the athletes, you give them a once over, noting the track suits that all of the athletes wore. Hibarida gave them a look akin to a fatherly scolding, causing them all to stiffen and bow politely. You offer them a bow in return, noting the amount of players in your office.

Seven. There were exactly seven players that would now be added to your “Problem Child” list.

“My name is [L/N], [Y/N], and I am in charge of Japan’s image during the Olympics. Basically, I have to make sure you behave yourselves while you’re here.” You surmised. “If you have any questions, please feel free to ask my assistant, Haru, or myself.” You add, watching the men awkwardly shuffle in front of you.

“Truthfully, all I ask of you is that you stay out of trouble. We don’t need a scandal like Team USA did in Rio.” You say, causing the men in front of you to nod vigorously. God, you would hate to be that person that had to deal with that mess.

“With all of that being said, I will be rooting for all of Team Japan this year and wish you the best of luck on your matches.” You add enthusiastically, giving the athletes a smile. This seemed to break them out of their awkward stupor. The shortest of them, a young man with orange hair and tanned skin, gave you a dazzling grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, [L/N]-san! Thank you for taking care of us!” He said, bowing out of respect. You smiled.

“No need to thank me, I’m just doing my job.” You dismiss. “Let’s make Japan proud, yeah?” The man next to the orange haired kid beamed, pumping his fist in the air and letting out a cheer of excitement. Coach Hibarida gave him a warning look, causing him to stop his mini celebration.

“Thank you, [L/N]-san, we will be going now. I promise that I’ll try and keep these boys under control.” Hibarida assures. You guess that he’s trying to be comforting, but it did little for your nerves. You could tell by the energy that this group of athletes were different than any others you had met, including the skateboarding duo you met the other day.

“It was nice seeing you, Coach Hibarida. Good luck this year and let’s go for the gold.” You encourage, causing a few of the athletes to grin and high five each other. As Coach Hibarida and his athletes started to walk out of your office, you leaned back against your desk, drafting a quick message to Kuroo.

“Ya really made it, huh?” A voice spoke, causing you to jump. Looking up, you were met with a familiar face. His hair was styled a bit different and you could tell that he was starting to actually use toner, but you would never forget him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, it seems I did.” You say, glancing over Atsumu’s appearance. His facial features were more defined, sharper even, and you could tell even underneath the standard track suit that he was even more muscular than the last time you saw him (which was unfortunately the night of your breakup 5 years ago). But his eyes, they still had that glimmer of well earned confidence and mischievousness. It was still Miya Atsumu, just a few years older.

“Looks like you made it too.” You say lightheartedly, hoping to ease the tension. “I mean, the Olympics. It doesn’t get much better than that, right?” You say, but Atsumu just looks at you with that soft expression of his. It’s the same one that always made you weak in the knees. If only you knew what was going through his mind right now, then you’d know that he regrets breaking up with you, he regrets not trying more, he regrets not having you with him. Most importantly, he misses you. Not the idea of you, or even the support you gave him, but you.

“I think you should go, Atsumu. Your team is probably looking for you and I have a meeting with another coach soon.” You say, shifting uncomfortably underneath his gaze.

“I still love ya.” He says. It’s not an impulsive thing or even nostalgia, Atsumu is stating what he feels. His confession makes your heart skip a beat and your stomach twist all at once. You could cry but also punch him in the face. That’s just what he does to you, that’s the affect he has always had on you. And even if you wanted to, you could never hate him for it.

“What are you doing to me?” You whisper, looking towards the ceiling as if you’d find an answer. A million thoughts started racing through your mind. Why now? You were never one to believe in fate, but you did believe in Atsumu. You always have, even now. Sensing your apprehension, Atsumu walks towards you. He can see just how much you’ve changed within the past several years. You’re still the same person that he loves, but God damn did time do you justice.

“Tellin’ ya that I’m a damn fool.” He chuckles, his face now just inches away from your’s. “And maybe, earnin’ a date?” He says, cupping your face so you now looked at him. You had to suppress a shiver underneath his gaze. Even though you’re definitely tough, there was just something about Atsumu that made you weak in the knees, even now.

“We’re here to work, Atsumu.” You remind him, making him pout. You chuckled, resisting the urge to tease him for his childish behavior

“How ‘bout this: I get a service ace in the first match, then I come over to yer place.” He offered, flashing you a small smirk. You roll your eyes at him, but smile nonetheless.

“Fine.” Atsumu has the brightest smile on his face, and he has to hold back from picking you up and kissing you. You have no idea why you agreed to his childish deal. Maybe it’s because you know that, deep in your heart, Miya Atsumu will always be your person. Try as you might, you two will always find your way back to each other.

“But after your match on the court,” You start, leaning forward so your lips were right by his ear.

“You should be ready for a match of our own.”

#miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#msby #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years ago

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Note

I got an idea for a Fatgum/Reader prompts (since he kinda underrated and I haven’t seen this idea used yet-).

How about one where Y/N is a petty criminal who is stopped by Fatgum but he still treats Y/N more kindly than others have to them and ends up motivating Y/N to choose a different path? Mayhaps a reunion after the incident, you’re choice 👉👈

From Cindy: Finding a way to do this request was interesting. I recruited my sister to brainstorm some ideas of how to make it flow properly and I think it turned out pretty good! I hope you think so too Anon!

Sunglasses (Fat Gum x Petty Thief! Reader)

Walking around the crowded streets of Osaka, you really should’ve felt more in your element. The huge outdoor market only opened a few times a year and you’d been looking forward to this day for weeks now. There were literally hundreds of stalls lined up in rows selling anything from homegrown vegetables, to handmade jewelry and clothing, to newly developed household gadgets and machines. Almost anything you could think of was sitting out in the open and ripe for the taking. All you had to do was stay casual as you walked by and swiped whatever you felt like right off the display tables. It was too easy. And maybe that was the problem. Having all the people and chaos going on around you just took all the fun out of it.

“Hey there!” One of the merchants smiles after making eye contact with you and beckons you over. “Could I interest you in new pair of sunglasses? We’re selling them at 40% off just for today!”

You pick a pair up off the table with one hand, looking it over to make sure they were really the name brand sunglasses they were being advertised as. It didn’t even really matter though if they were the real deal. 40% off was a great bargain if it was the genuine product, but 100% off was even better. The merchant watched your face closely as you examined the sunglasses, rambling on about the great selling points and completely unaware of your other hand sliding a second pair off the table and tucking them into your pocket.

“You know, these are really nice.” You admit while handing the first pair back to the man, “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass this time.”

“Fair enough,” the man nods, “if you change your mind you know where to find me!”

“Sure do!” you reply with a smile before turning and mixing back into the crowd. A few seconds later you let out an amused laugh while pulling the sunglasses out of your pocket and sliding them onto your face. Sometimes it still shocked you that you could pull stuff like that off right in front of people’s faces. You start looking around again and a food tent at the end of the road catches your eye. You walk inside over to the rack of freshly made containers filled with delicious smelling foods, wondering which one you should take. The older couple in charge were too busy rushing around to notice you as they tried to keep up with the amount of people coming in and out of their tent. You pick up a box filled with yakisoba noodles, tuck it under your arm and turn to walk away. You almost make it back onto the street when you feel the weight of a large hand on your shoulder. Glancing back, your heart drops into your stomach when you meet the eyes of a very large pro hero. “F-fat Gum?”

The man towered over you, and despite the friendly grin on his face, you couldn’t help but panic a bit. If he’d seen what you’d done, you weren’t sure what to do. Your brain started coming up with excuses about being so hungry you forgot to pay. It would be an easy fix to go back and get in line.

“Call me Taishiro!” the giant man chuckles, “Nice sunglasses, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you keep eye contact with him even though you were sure you were in trouble if he’d seen you take the sunglasses. You’d never been caught before, but you knew the punishment you’d be facing. You’d definitely have to pay a hefty fine for shoplifting, not to mention jail time if this guy wanted to be a jerk about it. It would go on your record and you’d probably lose your job.

“You forgot chopsticks,” his eyes slide down to the steaming container in your hands before gently leading you over to the line at the front counter. The elderly lady lights up when she sees the hero.

“Oh! Tai-kun! I wasn’t expecting to see you today! Do you want your usual?” She was already grabbing a box of takoyaki that had just come off the burner.

“Of course!” Fat Gum beams while fishing a wallet out from the inside the iconic hoodie he wore while doing hero work. “And my friend here is getting this yakisoba too.” He hands over some money and the lady quickly gets his change. When she comes back she winks and passes two big chocolate chip cookies over to the both of you with the chopsticks and napkins.

“On the house,” she covers her smile with a hand.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Fat Gum bows his head, “See you again soon! Take care!” Fat Gum’s hand finds your shoulder again and he leads you back out on the street. You look up at him, feeling confused and speechless. Were you in trouble or not? He obviously knew you’d taken the noodles since he ended up paying for them in the end. “That woman and her husband own a shop on my usual patrol route. I always stop there when I need a quick snack.”

“So?” You ask and the hero just shrugs, his expression finally turning serious.

“Maybe you can think of them the next time you feel like getting sticky fingers,” he points to the sunglasses that were still covering your eyes before smiling again. “Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!” He gives you a wave before going back to strolling through the crowd, occasionally popping a hot takoyaki into his mouth.

You stand outside the food tent for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. You look down at the box of noodles and the cookie which were still warm in your hand. For some reason, Fat Gum had really let you go with barely even a warning. A sigh of relief escapes your lips. That could’ve been way worse. As you look for a place to sit and eat your noodles, you reflect on the hero’s kindness. You honestly couldn’t say why you’d chosen to try and steal noodles from an old couple anyway. It was ridiculous now that you thought about it. Admittedly, stealing the sunglasses was kind of pointless too. It wasn’t like you didn’t have sunglasses already.

Your thoughts led from one to the other until you started wondering how you’d ever gotten into the habit of committing petty thievery to begin with. Most of the time, the things you stole weren’t things you actually needed or even wanted. Was it just boredom? Did you just do it for the thrill? Truthfully, the answer was a mystery even to you. Perhaps there was a better way to channel those urges though. After all, the next time you got caught, the hero might not be so forgiving. You finish your food, savoring the taste of the free homemade cookie before leaving the market and heading home.

A few weeks later, you find yourself taking a trip into the city where Fat Gum usually did his patrols. You weren’t even really sure why you decided to go, but you felt a nervous excitement when you caught sight of the giant hero walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street as you. Before you could stop yourself, you were jogging across the street and waving to him.

“Fat Gum!” He looked over at the sound of his name, a smile already on his face. “Uh, hey, you might not remember me…”

“Sunglasses!” He chuckles before crossing his arms and tilting his head, “I thought I told you to call me Taishiro though.”

“Right,” you laugh awkwardly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you again so soon?” He asks, not a trace of judgement in his voice from what had happened last time.

“I just… never got the chance to thank you for the noodles,” you tell him lamely. “Or tell you my name.” You mumble your name and Fat Gum takes your hand into his and gives it a shake.

“Nice to meet you again!” He says pleasantly and an idea suddenly pops into your head.

“By any chance, is now a good time to stop for a snack?” You ask, hoping that you don’t sound crazy. “My treat this time.”

“That sounds great,” he agrees to the offer without a hint of hesitation. “We can visit my friend’s shop if you’d like. It’s just a couple blocks away.” You nod eagerly and skip after him when he starts to lead the way. You were excited to show the hero that it hadn’t been a mistake to give you a second chance. In fact, the thought of spending more time with him gave you more of a rush than any stolen good ever had.

#Taishiro Toyomitsu x reader #fatgum x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum #fat gum #bnha #mha #Cindy's Writing

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anteroom-of-death · 5 years ago

Text

Life, For Dummies p4

a/n: any one out here wilding? i’m just vibing and writing comes when you ave zero braincells left...

Waking up was a struggle, you’d never slept that deeply or that well. The combination between a long, hot shower and Earth-shattering sex made it all too easy to sleep. You were so, so sore, but it was good. You admitted you hadn’t been fucked like that, heavens, at all if not for a long while. You looked at the large mirror across from your bed, lifting up your shirt. You had a few book-related bruises.

Stretching and feeling out the fact that you obviously didn’t have your sea legs yet. Your knees and thighs were wobbling and weak.

Then you caught it in the reflection. The collar- your collar. You half- thought it was just a fever dream. But it was real, and it’s weight was light but suddenly very noticable. The ring pressed against your larynx, the bow at the back felt oddly graceful as you flexed your neck to get a better look.

You finally allowed yourself to cry- this was what dreams were made of. (hey now, hey now!) You were exhausted already, you were happy. You felt light years away from where you were before the Master whisked you away. Hell, the last time you saw the Doctor seemed just a memory.

So much had changed. You felt completely different. Yes, you had all your same traits, likes and dislikes. But a week with the Master? Chaotic, mind blowing, devastating, beautiful, enriching and most of all, beyond your wildest dreams and even your deepest darkest wishes.

You definitely were different. The collar around your throat and the bruises and sore, stiff muscles proved you were. Not only were you having a tea party with the Devil, but you were the Devil’s whore.

It was wicked, and all too amazing. He treated you well for the most part. Very well. For only knowing you a week, he seemed to harbor no true ill will.

You got dressed and wracked your brain, reconciling everything finally and putting thoughts in boxes where they needed to go. It was slow, but needed. And time really did not matter anymore. You splashed yourself with cold water from the sink and prepared yourself mentally for outside your solitary walls. You had no clue what was waiting outside and you needed to put yourself out of any more revieries that might pop up. You had a lot of thoughts, and a lot of places to add up. Obviously, pro and con lists were out of the questions these days.

You supposed if this was a standard exchange of power, that rules and limits would be in place, but there was already the imbalance of aliens with knowledge of all of history, time travel, and space. Humans were simpler and had an equal footing. Therefore it was always up for debate.

You were halfway through finishing your daily SPF and thought about what if’s. Where was this all going? You couldn’t ask, obviously. He made it all up as he went along as much, if not more than the Doctor.

Poor Doctor, you allowed yourself to think, picks you up from your mundane routine only for you to better fit in with her best enemy.

Her loss, his gain.

Things added up, morals and ethics wise. The Doctor could be just as callous and just as insane, yet hid behind the greater good. She was a spoonful of sugar whereas he was castor oil. Twin sides of a coin…

You shook yourself from these thoughts. Too much to process in one morning for you, especially without caffeine to mainline.

You finished up and made your way out after stretching and taking a few excedrin you found rattling around the medicine chest. This TARDIS was incredibly intuitive and even materialised all your usual products you used. Or maybe the Master read your mind and supplied them. Either way, it was a big help…

You made your way out and sat down to an already piping hot mug of coffee and a tinkering Master. Your heart and stomach gave a flutter. You rolled your eyes at your over-eagerness.

“You’re finally up, I was worried that I’d have to physically go in there…”

You sloshed into yourself, “How long was I actually asleep?”

“19 hours. I think that qualifies as a coma with you humans.”

“I obviously needed to sleep.” You talked into your coffee mug. It tasted good. Strong, a little crunchy, very much the perfect cup you didn’t have to add anything to.

“Mmn, you made this?” You asked, pointing to the mug held loft in your hand.

“Of course, I know how to make coffee, spent years on the Outback of Australia, I got bored, I know how to be perfect at everything…”

“Yeah, sure, perfect at everything.” You rolled eyes again, this time at him.

“I am the Master.”

“Alright, alright.” You gave a concessional hand. You stared into your coffee and contemplated breakfast. You weren’t usually a big fan of eating in the morning, but all things considered you scraped yourself away from the coffee and started looking through the cupboards to see if anything was appealing to you in the moment. Nothing seemed terribly tasty so you just grabbed a bowl of random cereal and some sort of liquid you assumed was oat milk by the scent.

You felt his eyes studying your back the entire time, you didn’t know if it was in an observational manner or just perversely taking a peek at your backside.

“You like the show?” You demanded jokingly.

“Of course, pet…” He leaned back and placed the device he had down. It was a long silver and gold rod with three prongs at the tip. “I see my pretty little pet has found her pretty little treat.” He went over and flipped a strand of your hair and fingered the collar at your neck before stroking at your sternum. He smiled down and flexed his lips open. The lighting made his teeth glitter dangerously.

The dim lighting really brought out a beautiful tone to his lips. You tried to return to your cereal, but you pecked him on the cheek and steered yourself to a seated position. Temptation could take a temporary back burner. You had to get some semblance of nutrition into you.

He joined you at the table.

“I was thinking of a few ideas, but I wanted your input.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, I can more than enough make my own choices, but to spice it up, why not get some feedback? What chaos shall be wrought today?” He bent over the table, disregarding the personal space needed to eat a bowl of cereal and let actual brain-processing happen.

“What all did you have in mind?” You scooted back infinitesimally and tried to finish breakfast quickly.

He quickly pointed to some post-it notes, “Here’s the name of an intergalactic crime boss who owes me a few favors, figured we could go and rough him up until he squeals, giving me the powerful weaponry we all know he has. Or, here’s a plan to visit a certain set of pepper pots and make some deals that most definitely will backfire, but it would be great fun to see them get frustrated and deny the fact that they can get frustrated. Or I was thinking of visiting Earth and teasing Torchwood and UNIT around early 2000’s Cardiff, you know, for funsies. Oh! What if we went back to Raxacoricofallapatorius and destroyed their nursery?” He was spinning around and fluttering between notebooks and sketches including one where he was strangling a person in an army uniform and a handlebar moustache.

“Jesus, how fast does your brain go?” You massage your temples…

“Too much? Huh? What would you suggest then?” He pouted, placing a hand at his hip and jutting it out.

“Why don’t we just start slow and nothing Earthly? Crime boss seem good? Simple even…” You slurped the milk off the spoon, “But lemme finish Breakfast first!” Pointing it at him, “Slow your roll. Savor the day. Do you Time Lords even sleep?”

“Rarely.”

“Wow, that explains so much.”

He querched an eyebrow, “And what would that be, love?” The love felt oddly formal, not like being called a pet.

“I’ve only met two of you, mind, so I might be generalizing...but the high energy. Like... “ You pressed your fingertips together, “Napping? Don’t you enjoy finding a good place to sleep during the day and just sleeping and enjoying the restfulness and sensations of the sun through a window and maybe a breeze if you open it a bit.”

“No, I’d love to try it, sounds pleasurable…”

“And you said that you were the Master of Everything.” You false-scandalized then laughed, cupping his face and smiling at him. It was great. He really made you laugh in one of those cheesy, stupid ways.

“I could punish you for talking down to your Owner…” He teased right back.

“Oooh...dirty.” You gave a salacious wink.

You could feel the “You have no idea…” radiating from his pores.

“Come along, my pet…” He pulled you from the table and over to the console, “We got a crime boss to torture…”

He punched in the coordinates and grabbed his jacket, then pulled you out the door…

You were toasting your success in the newly acquired weapons-room that now belonged to, as he poured you a little more champagne.

You oddly enjoyed helping torturing the poor sap. He squirmed and you enjoyed him blanching from pain.

The machine you saw him working on was a laser screw-driver? And he gave it to you as he was attaching some high tech hand-cuffs to the man. He told you that the controls were intuitive and to “give it a whirl...see how that grabs you…” Watching the gross little green man scream and shake around, flushing and pleading- felt good. Felt powerful. It brought you a tingle of pleasure and you could see why the Master was fond of it. The device felt good in your hand and after the second whorl of your wrist, it felt like a natural extension. It felt right to hold it in your hand and be able to grasp such power.

A bit of sadism? Then champagne? And the thrill of a steal? All felt like an adrenaline rush.

What were you becoming?

A shred of our conscience echoed about the fact that you, obviously, had to kill him, something the Master allowed you to turn into him and avert your eyes as he shrunk his body and flicked it into a drainage gate. He knew your limits and didn’t go past what he knew you could currently take. You grimaced a bit as you heard a tiny clink. That was a tad harsh.

All in all, a busy day...

He was busy cataloging and cooing at all the tech he had access to his as he put it “fun, evil plans”...

It was hilarious and so endearing to watch. He was like a kid in a candy shop. Soft, feral, incorrigible.

You determined that a small nap whilst tipsy and moonstruck was a great gift to yourself. You felt the collar and played idly with the diamond heart until you blacked out.

You woke up to him watching you. “One of those fabulous little naps you talked of?” He stroked your thigh and massaged the fabric of your shorts. You pulled yourself up and propped yourself up on your elbows and coyly smiled, “Care to join me?” You winked, “Take a walk on the wild side. It’s a real treat. After that...who knows?” You teased him.

He considered it and then loosened the buttons, and took off his jacket before laying it down and rolling up his sleeves. He laid down and you offered him to slide up to you. He obliged stiffly but soonly gave in. You spotted his chest hair and stared at it for a moment. You then acted, you traced it, mildly twirling your finger in its mass, he shuddered and then left you to continue. You laid down your head on his chest and felt his hearts pounding between two different beats.

He murmured, “Keep the screwdriver. A little gift. From me to you…” You felt his hearts hitch a bit.

Sighing, you told him, “Relax." You let out a sleepy little moan. You embraced the warmth of his body and soothing echoing in his chest like a whitenoise machine. "You're doing excellent.." The Master eased up and you felt yourself ease up and drift off. You dreamt of falling through water and waves and the scent of fires and musk. You could feel a pair of eyes watching you, but they felt nonjudgmental, just guiding you deeper down. Deeper under the spell of sleep and total darkness.

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #the master #master x reader #reader insert #doctor who self insert fiction #fanfic #sacha dhawan

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meganshinsou-tm · 5 years ago

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Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter twenty-two: baby steps

❧ genre: pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings:

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

“Do you have everything?”

You asked, walking Bakugou out to the blacked out SUV that waited in front of your shared home.

He opened the backseat door and tossed his bags in, closing it and turned to you with a smirk on his face, crossing his arms and leaning against the vehicle.

“Yeah princess I got everything. Do you have everything you need for shitty hair in there?” He asked nodding his head in the direction of the house.

“Mhm, I picked up all his meds this morning and got enough groceries to where I can just stay home with him 24/7 until he’s better.”

“Well that sounds fucking exhausting.”

The driver honked the horn and Bakugou growled, opening the door and yelling profanities at the poor guy, telling him to calm the fuck down and not rush him.

You smirked and waited for the hero to get everything out of his system. He was going out of town on a mission for a few days, leaving you and Kirishima behind. The red-head had come down with a bad cold and wouldn’t have been able to go in the condition he was in. Bakugou was actually thrilled to take the mission, meaning he would be as far away from his friends germs and sickness as possible. But at the same time he wasn’t so thrilled because it meant being away from you for more than a few hours. Katsuki finally finished his tantrum and slammed the door shut, turning to face you again.

“Alright brat, I gotta go. Come here!”

Bakugou pulled you into his arms, embracing you tightly. Your arms wrapped under his and around his body as your face nuzzled in his chest. For some reason it was always harder to say goodbye when your explosive boyfriend left for these trips, you’d miss him like crazy every time and feel like you would die before he returned home. His hand pet the back of your hair and he kissed the side of your head. You took multiple deep inhales of his scent, that sweet and indulgent smell you loved so much.

“I’m gonna miss you Suki, so much.”

“It’s only two days (Y/N), you’ll be fine,” he broke the hug and pulled you from him, getting a better look at your sad face. “But I’m sure I’ll miss you more.”

You smiled softly and leaned closer, making your foreheads touch as one of his hands cupped your cheek and the other played with the crescent pendant that hung from your throat. Since receiving the gift, the necklace became a part of your skin, you only ever took it off to shower.

Katsuki could tell you were putting on a strong front for him and he hated to leave you feeling low. He thought hard about how he could lighten the mood, since doing so wasn't exactly his forte as much as it was Kirishima's. Suddenly, this one extremely cheesy thing came to his head. He looked at you, hesitant on if he should even try it out or not, it was out of character for him but he had a feeling you'd get a kick out of it.

“Hey, did you know I can hold the entire world in my hands?”

You quirked a brow at the blonde and rolled your eyes, “Look Suki, I love you and all and I love how you have these massive dreams but no you can’t.”

“Yes I can,” he smirked with shimmering red eyes.

“Can’t!” You retorted and pulled your face back.

Bakugou chuckled and cupped your face in his large and warm hands, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. Shocked at how tender and soft it was, you hummed as your eyes fluttered shut and kissed back, your hands wrapping around his wrists. You would miss his warm and sweet tasting lips in the days to come so you savored every second. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his lips not wanting to let go of yours as if they were his oxygen. He sucked in your bottom lip lightly and rolled it between his teeth as he hesitantly broke the interaction. You were breathless but still smiled as your eyes met. He smiled back pridefully, his hands still holding your face as he gently shook it side to side.

“Can!”

You awed and clutched your heart as Bakugou rolled his eyes but smiled at his success. It was the corniest yet sweetest thing the blonde had ever said to you, overwhelmed by his newfound sweetness you kissed him again. The horn honked and Bakugou slammed a middle finger to the window. You laughed and hugged him one last time and made him promise to call once he got to his hotel. You went to break away from him as your hand slowly slipped from his grip but he jerked you back one last time for one last kiss.

“I love you princess, so fucking much.”

“I love you too Suki, even more!”

Kirishima laid passed out on the couch while you cooked him soup for dinner. All day he slipped in and out of sleep from exhaustion caused by his fever. You’d only wake him to give him medicine and make sure he drank a lot of liquids before you would rub his head until he passed out again. It had been a day since Bakugou left and the house was quiet and boring. The free time let you catch up on a lot of manga’s and anime shows that you had slacked on until there wasn’t anything else left. Sighing as you quietly listened to music while cooking, your ears perked once you heard Kirishima stirring awake. Looking over your shoulder you could see him sitting up and groaning as he placed his face in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

A hand ran through his dirty and messy red locks that dangled in his face. You smiled watching him and telling just by his body language that he was slowly starting to feel better. Your small feeling of boredom and loneliness suddenly subsided as he stood from the couch and stretched. The muscles of his back flexed and moved under his flushed skin and he hardened his body. It was something he did after resting really well as if it were like a move to really stretch out his tired body. Deactivating his quirk he sighed and looked around the room, unaware that you were just in the kitchen.

“I’m over here Red,” you called out.

He turned around and a tired yet heart melting sharp-toothed grin crossed his face, making you smile in return. He made his way from the living room and into the kitchen, his sweats hanging low on his hips. Even for being sick the past three days he still looked breathtaking. You turned back around and continued stirring the soup while he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. His body was extremely warm against yours and felt amazing considering you had been touch deprived since Katsuki left.

“How long have I been out?”

“Well let’s see you left work Thursday afternoon and went straight to bed and today is Saturday. You’ve been sleeping on and off, only waking up for maybe an hour or two at a time.”

“Damn, Saturday huh? So Bakugou already left?”

You pouted and nodded your head, suddenly remembering your blonde lover again. Kirishima noticed your mood change and placed a kiss to your cheek and squeezed you tightly.

“Hey mama, he’ll be back tomorrow night. You know he always ends up coming home the second he’s done with a mission and doesn’t even bother with waiting till the next day.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry Kiri ... you know, if my missing him ever makes you feel bad. You always have to cheer me up when he’s gone and I’m sure it must make you feel like chopped liver or something. I much rather have both of you here is all.”

“Don’t apologize baby girl, I’d be worried if you didn’t miss him. Plus, I enjoy making you happy, it’s my job remember?”

Smiling, you nodded and craned your neck to kiss his cheek. After turning the burner off you turned to face him and put the back of your hand to his forehead feeling his temperature. It was a lot cooler than it had been and his body was probably just warm from the pile of blankets he was buried under.

“Well you look better and your temperature has gone down, how do you feel?”

“I feel a lot better, I’m not as exhausted. My head is a little foggy but I’m sure it’s just from me being out of it for almost three days. Is the food done, I’m starving!”

Kissing his cheek again you nodded and he proceeded to get dishes and silverware for the both of you. After making your own bowls you sat down together at the table. Eijirou pulled your chair closer to his and you propped a leg in his lap as you both ate and talked. It was the first time you had held a conversation with him since he was out for the count the other night.

Your mood was improving with each second spent with him. He told you about all his crazy feverish dreams he had, one was about medium dog sized guinea pigs chasing him around the backyard and another was about a zombie apocalypse. You laughed at how odd his dreams were and he relished in hearing your laugh after so long.

Kirishima leaned over and cupped your cheek then pulled you in for a long sweet kiss. Your own free hand wrapped around the side of his neck, your thumb brushing his jawline. After the kiss broke he placed a peck to your forehead and went back to eating. The random kiss wasn’t unwelcome at all but it was out of nowhere.

“What was that for Kiri?” You chuckled and took a bite of soup, biting down on the spoon as you pulled it from your mouth.

The red-head winced at the sight, both men hated how you’d do that with your silverware. Kirishima never commanded you to stop though but Bakugou would go on about how the sound of teeth scrapping against metal would drive him up the fucking wall, only making you do the act more and with more emphasis.

“Just because I haven’t kissed you like that in what feels like ages, and to thank you for taking care of me. I may have been out of it but I know you gave me all my meds and fluids, and dealt with my whining when I wanted to be held or cuddled. I don’t know what I’d do without you (Y/N), I love you so much.”

“Hmm, what was that you said to me a while ago? Ah, it’s my job! Plus, it’s the least I could do after everything you and Blasty have done and still do for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you either Kiri, honestly. I’d probably be fucking lost! I love you too, even more!”

Kirishima playfully rolled his eyes at your last words, as if he were trying to challenge you but he let it be. After eating, he helped you clean and put everything up and you agreed to take a bath together. Since the man had been passed out for the past few days he never had the energy to really have a deep shower, other than just jumping in and jumping out. Since he had you all to himself for another night he requested to just relax and soak in the tub with you.

The two of you sat facing each other, your legs wrapped around him as you both laughed and played Red Hands. Each time either of you would go to slap the top of the others hands, water would splash in your faces throwing off the other person. Kiri’s hands were bigger than yours and caused for you to maneuver around more area and slowing you down. Every now and then though he’d ‘slip’ up and let you hit him, always so proud of yourself when you succeeded. You enjoyed baths with Kirishima, granted he was the only one that would take them with you. Bakugou had this vendetta against being submerged in water, basically because of its effects on his quirk but it’s not like he needed it to take a bath.

“This time watch my eyes Kiri, don’t look down!” You teased and challenged.

With a smirk Kirishima did as instructed, his crimson orbs staring into your soul with a quirked brow as he tried to slap your hands. So far you were doing good at dodging until he finally caught you. His hit had a lot more power behind it this time than usual, your eyes widened as the skin on the top of your hands stung and you yelped. Eijirou’s own eyes widened and he looked down to see the red skin of your hands and he quickly yet gently took your palms in his.

“Dammit, I’m so sorry (Y/N). You know I forget my own strength sometimes and I was just in the – huh?”

He looked up to see you laughing, to the point were small tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You shook your head and covered your mouth, snorting in the process. As worried as your boyfriend was he chuckled at the embarrassing sounds you made.

“Why are you laughing! There's nothing funny about me hurting you!”

“Kiri, you didn’t hurt me. I mean it shocked me but it was just an accident. I’m obviously fine, scouts honor,” you replied holding up two fingers.

Sighing, Kiri placed your red and scarred hands to his lips, gently kissing them and placing them under the water to try and soothe the stinging. He pulled you into his chest, turning you around in the process and laid back against the tub with you in his arms and stretched out. His legs bent at the knee since he was a bit longer than the enclosure and you sat between his legs. Your back flushed against his hard and warm chest as you cuddled up in his embrace and hummed, kissing his forearms and resting your head on him. He sighed as his body relaxed and kissed the top of your head enjoying the silence with you for the rest of the bath.

Bakugou groaned as he plopped down on the hotel bed the second he walked into the door of his room. He had been going nonstop since he arrived for his mission, his body was tired, his arms sore from overusing them.

Taking out the cell from his pocket he smiled when the lock screen lit up.

Bakugou may not seem like the sentimental or lovey dovey type but he’d be damned if he didn’t have a picture of you on his phone. He wasn’t much for taking them himself so you’d always have to sneak them or Kirishima would be the one to secretly take them and send to him. The picture he loved most was one you had surprised him with, after running up on him out of nowhere in his bathroom and latching to his back almost knocking the wind out of him. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth and growled at you for how dangerous that situation could’ve turned out. You didn’t care and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he managed to hold you on his back while still brushing his teeth.

His phone was right next to him on the counter and you swiped it, turning on the camera and taking pictures in the mirror. For some reason he was in a good mood that day and went along with it. Sticking his pointed tongue out and baring his teeth with the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and holding up a middle finger, you mocked his pose, baring your own teeth with exaggerated eyes and took a picture.

“We’re double trouble huh Suki,” you giggled and kissed his neck.

It was a dumb name to tag yourselves with but he liked it. Remembering the flash back made him chuckle as he started to miss you even more. He used to love going on out of town missions - that was until you became a part of his life.

The blonde would never truly admit to you how insane he’d feel, like he was going crazy from being miles and miles away. It always ate away at him seeing your reaction when he’d leave, it never got easier to leave you in fact. Bakugou didn’t truly understand either why you’d get all worked up over his departures, it wasn’t like you were alone. You had that red-headed idiot.

You and Kirishima were almost conjoined at the hip, always smiling and laughing, joking and holding conversations about anything. Bakugou was always secretly jealous about how the two of you had your own sort of universal language or inside jokes. Of course Bakugou made you giggle and chuckle but he can’t think of any point in the past half year that he’s legit made you just belly laugh. That trick at the bowling alley didn’t count because Eijirou helped. Katsuki didn’t hate the relationship he had with you, but he definitely felt like it could be more.

The two of your were great at working together in the field, always motivating and pushing the other to fight on or grow more. You kept each other on your toes and wouldn’t let the other slack. Then there was the amazing sexual chemistry you had together, nothing was wrong in that department at all. But he wanted more, he wanted to make you laugh like a maniac and have inside jokes too. He wanted to hold deep and meaningful conversations with you and learn more about the girl he was in love with. Bakugou couldn’t get enough of you at times and hated the awkward or long silences that would build between you.

All he had to do was ask you though, he knew if he just sat you down and said “tell me something I don’t know about you,” that you’d happily entertain him and probably wouldn’t shut up. Sure relationships are a two way street but he also thought about how he comes off as a person. Even though you've learned how to handle him and take him, he’s still changed in so many ways on the inside that you weren’t even aware of. So how could he expect you to know that he craved your attention and time, that he craved to have special and sometimes dumb jokes or gestures with you.

“How is it so fucking easy for that spiky haired idiot?” Katsuki questioned himself.

Lost in so many deep thoughts, the blonde was startled when his phone started ringing. Seeing your name he instantly picked it up but tried his best not to sound too enthusiastic.

“What do you want brat?”

“Uh – hello to you too Baka-gou!”

Rolling his eyes the blonde sighed, realizing that maybe learning to not be so brash and hide his excitement may be a good starting point.

“Sorry princess – I uh, just had a long day. What’s up, do you need something?”

“No, I haven't heard from you much and I wanted to hear your voice. If you’re tired though you should go to sleep, I’m sure you kicked a lot of ass today.”

Bakugou chuckled and thought about whether he should tell you yes or no. The tone of your voice did sound upset once you mentioned letting him go, so that let him know that you really didn’t want him to.

“Maybe I did, if you want, I could tell you about my day and in return I guess I’ll listen to how yours went?”

For some reason Katsuki’s heart beat a little faster and he got nervous as he asked such a normal and mundane question. He usually never really asked about how your days were but he knew that would kick off some sort of conversation.

“Even if it is baby steps, I’ll get there. I’ll be as close to her as Kirishima,” he thought to himself with a determined look.

A sweet hum could be heard on your end of the call, as if you were thinking really hard. Bakugou smirked and awaited your reply.

“My day wasn’t very exciting, but I’d really love to hear more about yours Suki.”

#vermilion #bakugou x reader x kirishima #kirishima x reader x bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #polyamory #poly relationship #xreader #reader insert

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daggerzine · 4 years ago

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R.E. Seraphin molds tiny shapes into big songs.

Though he’s been on the scene for a while now (with different bands) I hadn’t heard the music of Bay Area musician R.E. “Ray” Seraphin until this year via a cassette called Tiny Shapes via Paisley Shirt Records (more on the label below). His first real band was Talkies, which he discusses below (and I have enjoyed), but he seems to have really come into his own this year with that cassette and a new EP, A Room Forever, which came out just a month or so ago. In his music you’ll hear influences of 80’s jangle pop as well as some deeper post-punk stuff (and for more current stuff I hear whispers of Dean Wareham and his bands and Wild Nothing). Reading below he seems very well grounded and seems to have a great attitude about everything (even not being able to play shows during a pandemic or being in a writing slump). I think once this is all over this guy will go on 5-year tour and gain lots and lots of new fans. In the meantime do check out his stuff, you won’t be disappointed.

Where did you grow up?

Berkeley, CA. The area I grew up in was filled with Victorian homes and dilapidated industrial warehouses. My family home was walking distance from a lagoon and an old, rusty set of train tracks. I felt I lived in an unremarkable college town. There wasn't much activity outside of the school. I discovered Berkeley’s storied political and musical history much later in life. Now, of course, there are many books written about Berkeley, but I thought it was a kinda nondescript city as a kid.

Do you remember what band made you fall in love with music?

Dating myself hard here, but I remember being floored by The White Stripes’ “Fell in Love With a Girl” video when I was 11. The Top 40 music making the rounds on VH1 and MTV at the time was beyond dreck — a lot of Train, Staind, Matchbox 20. The White Stripes were the first band I was exposed to that made succinct, catchy, no-frills music. I was genuinely enthralled. Plus, the Lego animation in that video still holds up.

Was guitar your first instrument?

I started on bass. My first instrument was an extremely cheap, pointy BC Rich knockoff monstrosity. I believe I was 13. I had no idea how to play and little interest in learning. For the first year, I putzed around with a Pro Co RAT, a wah pedal, and a tinny-sounding Crate practice amp. I just tried (and succeeded in) being as obnoxious as possible. When I started writing songs, I eventually graduated from playing bass poorly to playing guitar poorly.

Tell us about your first band.

My first band that played shows was called The Phil Spector Shotgun Experience. That was primarily a cover band I put together with my high school buddies and my mom. We covered Radio Birdman, the Pink Fairies, and the MC5; we also had an unwittingly hilarious original called “Nitroglycerin Man” — the first song I ever wrote (maybe I was subconsciously inspired by Wages of Fear). At some point, we kicked my mom out of the band and started playing as the Impediments. That band kicked ass — we made pridefully dumb American punk music. That was also my only band to sign a record contract, so it’s quite possibly been downhill from there!

Tell us about The Talkies (unless that was your first band mentioned above).

Talkies (no article!) was a group I started in 2014 as a vehicle for my songs. My previous bands had been more of a shared vision, so Talkies was my first foray into being the lone genius of a group. The sound was mostly drawn from what is disparagingly known as power pop. Basically, I was heavily into the band Shoes for a few years.

We released a few albums and EPs. Did a couple short tours. During that time, the project was dragged from the Bay Area to Austin and back before I finally, mercifully pulled the plug last year. It was time.

When did you transition from Talkies to the solo stuff you’re doing now? Did it feel comfortable?

Talkies had run its course, but I had a smattering of songs leftover from that project that I wanted to record. Around that time, I learned my good friend Jasper Leach (Burner Herzog) was getting ready to skip town. I had always wanted to work with him and, seizing my final opportunity to do so, we banged out my début, Tiny Shapes, last summer. The whole experience was fairly serendipitous. The stars aligned for that one.

I wouldn't say the process was comfortable. Recording the album felt necessary, urgent — almost compulsory at times. My heart was ready for a new project and I truly wanted to center myself for the first time. I’m glad I did. This is the happiest I’ve been musically in some time.

“I think therefore I am”

I love the songs on A Room Forever. How did they come together?

So glad to hear that! I got asked to contribute to a compilation back in April. With the deadline approaching and inspiration still eluding me, I took a glance at my bookshelf, noticed a particular Carson McCullers title, and whipped up “Clock Without Hands.” After my trusty collaborator Owen Adair Kelley added his parts, I felt we had stumbled upon a great sound. I tried to harness the creative spirit and pushed myself to finish a few ideas buried deep in the recesses of my Voice Memo app. I got friends Matt Bullimore (The Mantles) and Yea-Ming Chen (Yea-Ming & The Rumors) involved, and that was that. No great origin story — just pure American ingenuity and elbow grease.

Tell us about Paisley Shirt Records. Who runs it and how did you hook up with them?

Paisley Shirt Records is simply the man, the myth, the legend — Kevin Linn. He is a San Francisco-based musician and artist who records as Sad-Eyed Beatniks.

I met him when I was looking for someone to release my album, Tiny Shapes. He had just put out a tape by Hits — a great local band featuring some friends of mine — and I felt a kinship with his roster. So, I reached out to him. Foolishly, he agreed to put out my album and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Solid dude. High marks.

Have you done any solo tours? If so where and how did they go?

Ha! No. I had only notched two shows as R.E. Seraphin before the pandemic hit. Likely not doing anything beyond the odd live-stream show for a while. That said, if any tastemaking European touring agencies are reading this — give me a ring!

The latest EP

What are your top 10 desert island discs?

Ah, jeez. This question. I’ll just say these are 10 (plus one) that I come back to quite often. In no order:

Marquee Moon by Television

The Everly Brothers’ Best

Forever Changes by Love

Let it Be by The Replacements

Third/Sister Lovers by Big Star

The First Songs by Laura Nyro

16 Lovers Lane by The Go-Betweens

In a Silent Way by Miles Davis

A Different Kind of Tension by Buzzcocks

Something Else by The Kinks

Old No. 1 by Guy Clark

What are a few Bay Area bands that we should know about.

This is a golden-era for weirdo pop music in the Bay. To name just a few: Galore, Cindy, The Umbrellas, Tony Jay, Flowertown, Healing Potpourri, Latitude, Cocktails, The Reds, Pinks, & Purples, Yea-Ming & The Rumors, Anna Hillburg, the 1981, Toner, Frank Ene, Neutrals, Owen Adair Kelley, April Magazine, Telephone Numbers, Hits, Sad-Eyed Beatniks. Essentially every act associated with Paisley Shirt Records and/or Mt.St.Mtn. My bias is strong.

Do you feel that the pandemic has helped your songwriting or hindered it (if either)?

A li’l column A, a li’l column B. I’m a natural procrastinator, so I’ve definitely savored the lack of band practice and shows (things that often necessitate new material). That said, I doubt I would have finished A Room Forever had I not been quarantined at home. Without having many obligations and without being able to leave my house, music definitely became my raison d’être for the first time as an adult. I was fortunate to not be deemed an “essential” worker and to be able to focus energy on my passion momentarily. Silver lining.

What’s next ? A new record by the end of the year possibly?

Hopefully continuing to promote my music and play shows on the ol’ webiverse. A Room Forever will be receiving a small vinyl and tape pressing at the end of September via Mt.St.Mtn. and Paisley Shirt Records. So, looking forward to that.

I was creatively tapped for a few months after A Room Forever. While a new album is possible, it’s not probable. I am plugging away at a few tunes, but I tend to conceptualize albums as a thematic whole and not as a collection of songs. Haven't stumbled onto my next Big Idea yet. Don't count me out, though. I could see myself dashing off a covers album for sure.

What is one song you wish you’d written?

Too many to name! I’ll reframe that question to mean a great song I could see myself capable of writing in an alternate time, place, or dimension. Maybe one of Peter Holsapple’s songs from The dB’s — “Black & White” or “Neverland.” Also: anything by Wreckless Eric or Martin Newell.

Final thoughts? Closing comments?

Just finished reading an interview with the great James Purdy, and thought this quote summed up iur current political climate well:

“You go out into the world and no one knows you, you can be ruled because you’re programmed. Everything is stamped, put on the shelf, described, thrown out into the garbage. It’s a political process, and behind that an economic process. But to be nothing, that is the worst of all possible things.”

www.reseraphin.com

www.paisleyshirtrecords.bandcamp.com

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grillpartszone-blog · 7 years ago

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wesley-nivans · 6 years ago

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Pregnancy :: Chinese Gender Birth Chart

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styleatacertainage · 7 years ago

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FITNESS JOURNEY UPDATE

leggings | tank | similar jacket |

perfect timing for a fitness update. today, i’m suffering from a love hangover. yes, mr. style and i enjoyed a delightful valentine’s evening – five-course meal and all. while i savored every bite of lobster bisque, sauteed mushrooms, and scallops i have to admit i felt sluggish after i folded my napkin at the end of the evening. since january 15th when i started my fitness journey with the help of FASTer Way to Fat Loss i have been eating lean and mean and learning once more how to fuel my body. guess what? my body likes a cleaner healthier lifestyle. and my brain does too because how we feel is directly connected to what we’re eating.

in one short month, i’ve seen amazing results with healthier food choices, carb cycling, and intermittent fasting working in tandem. if you are interested in learning more about FASTer Way to Fat Loss Amanda Tress has loads of information to share. the next session starts February 26th, and you know who has already enrolled in round two! many of you have already started their own fitness journey with FASTer Way to Fat Loss so if you are reading this post feel free to chime in with your experience so far. it’s week one for y’all, and i’m on week four but looking back on the past few weeks i think one of the benefits of the program i experienced immediately was a restful night’s sleep. and i do mean restful because i slip into a deep sleep the moment my head hits the pillow until the alarm clock goes off in the morning.

women by and large have trouble sleeping once they hit peri-menopause. for some of us, sleep disruptions continue to plague us even on the other side of menopause. did you know that sleep is critical to becoming a pro-fat burner? sleep quality and quantity are so important. guess my mother was right yet again. i think one reason i’m sleeping better (okay, i have been up late watching the Olympics…) is due to the fact i’ve cleaned up my diet. here’s one of my favorite snacks – Oatmeal Energy Protein Balls.

OATMEAL ENERGY PROTEIN BALLSServes 12a delicious protein snackWrite a review

Save Recipe

PrintPrep Time10 minINGREDIENTS

1 1/2 cup gluten free oats

2 scoops vanilla vegan protein powder

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1tbsp chia seeds

1/2 cup smooth peanut butter

3 tbsp honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

1/3 cup dates

2-4 tbsp almond milk

INSTRUCTIONS

Add oats, protein powder, cinnamon, and chia seeds.

Add peanut butter, honey, and vanilla.

Stir to combine.

Add dates.

Slowly add almond milk.

Roll into balls.

Set in fridge at least thirty minutes.

another reason i’m sleeping like a baby is that i am consistently hitting the gym five days a week. wednesday and saturday you’ll see me at my local Orange Theory. the other three days are spent at my home gym following the FASTer Way to Fat Loss workouts. a combination of HIIT, weights, and cardio make up my fitness routine. there’s already noticeable muscle tone in my arms, but all areas of my body are starting to respond. even my mid-section is shaping up which is a common problem area once we hit the big 5-0. there are some muscles that haven’t been used for so long that they are just now waking up!

this program is also about progress, not perfection. and it’s flexible. it doesn’t matter if you’re a travel bug, have a demanding job, work the night shift, have an injury (like my knee injury from college), have no cooking skills, or no gym membership. don’t even think about claiming you’re too old. the most important thing we can do as we age is to take care of our bodies. the amount of muscle mass we lose each year is astonishing. if we don’t use them, we will lose them. but the great thing about FASTer Way To Fat Loss is you can make it work with your lifestyle! and there’s an amazing online community with like-minded women cheering you every step of the way. our coaches are educational and motivating and answer any and all questions.

here are photos that chronicle my progress with FASTer Way to Fat Loss six-week program. seven weeks if you include prep week which is devoted to education, but if you’re revving to go you can incorporate the program from day 1.

prep week

week one

week two

week four

okay, i guess you would say i’m hooked on Amanda’s program. which is why i am sharing it with you again. many of you have asked how i’m tweaking my fitness routine because you noticed a change. well, if you are interested you can change your lifestyle too. because it is a lifestyle change, not a diet. some of you have asked how much weight i have lost. guess what? i don’t know because we don’t use scales!

the next round of

FASTer Way to Fat Loss

starts February 26th, and i’m already signed up!

A convenient 6-week program that fits your busy schedule.

A comprehensive program guide with resources to help you thrive including sample meal plans, a detailed program overview, and video interviews.

Prep week with training to set you up for success.

Weekly workout plans which can be completed at the gym or at home.

Accountability and a supportive approach that keeps you on track to accomplish your goals.

Affordable package option that is among the lowest cost option you’ll find (only $199 total).

The focus, quality, intensity, and commitment you’d expect from me, a trainer with 10+ years of success.

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