#How dare they waste my time — the time i’m so convinced i’m running out of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 8 months ago

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Bloody Beetle | Part Ten

Summary: buckle up folks, it's the final showdown

Pairing: Steven x reader, Marc x reader, Harrow x reader, Layla x reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: fighting, deaths...

A/N: as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Nine | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

Layla’s POV

She wants to stop you from surrendering yourself, she knows it’s dangerous.

But she also knows neither of you have time to think of another plan.

As soon as you step out from behind the wall she wastes no time in sneaking over to where Osiris’ avatar is and pulls him to safety.

“Hey! hey, hey…” She says as she tries to keep him upright and conscious. “How do we stop Ammit?!”

“This chamber is our most powerful place.” He wheezes. “From here we need to imprision Ammit in a mortal form.”

“A body instead of a statue. She’d be vulnerable… okay, how do we do it?”

“We need more avatars than we have left…” he says before collapsing to the ground.

“No, no no!” Layla tries to wake him, but when she checks his pulse she realises he’s gone. She thinks for a moment, pondering her options. Reluctantly she summons Taweret and agrees to be her temporary avatar.

“I am so thrilled! We are gonna have so much fun together.” Taweret says excitedly. “I have a fabulous costume in mind.”

The sound of Harrow’s shout bounces off the walls, getting Layla’s attention. She peers around to watch.

Harrow is stood in front of you protectively, talking to Ammit. Almost pleading with her.

“What could she possibly do in the future that is so bad that she deserves this?”

“She will be the one to kill you.”

Ammit’s reply sends the room silent. A few disciples spare glances at each other but no one dares make a sound. Layla notices the heartbreak on Harrow’s face.

She watches as you try to stand, try to reason with Harrow, convince him Ammit is lying.

She watches as Harrow turns to you, and reaches out to help you up from the floor.

She watches as he drives a dagger deep into your stomach and she has to fight with herself not to run over and kill Harrow herself. She knows with Ammit behind him he is too powerful for her to fight alone.

She watches as everyone just steps over you, leaving you to die. Not a single one of them even pausing for a moment to consider helping you.

As soon as they’re out she runs to you, calling your name. You manage to roll over and look at her and she sees the moment the last bit of life leaves you. Your body going still, eyes glassing over as you lay limp on the ground. She crouches next to you, checking and double checking for a pulse. Begging you to wake up, to not leave her alone.

But that’s what she is now… Alone…

Marc is dead. You are dead. Without anyone to help her, she’s sure she will be next.

— — — —

Y/N’s POV

“Where am I?” You ask aloud, glancing at the bright white nothingness around you. “Steven? Marc? Anyone?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” A voice calls from everywhere at once.

“Hello?” You respond.

“I am Osiris, god of the underworld.”

“…okay…”

“I have granted you resurrection but I ask something of you in return… Become my avatar.”

“Uh, look I don't think I'm really the person to be asking. I don't know how to be an avatar, I don't even really know what it means… I just know that Marc said it’s bad. Like being a slave? And I really don't want that-”

“You won’t be a slave, you will be powerful.”

“I’m sorry, but my answer is no. And if that means you have to send me back to the Duat then… I accept my fate.”

“I admire your honesty and bravery Y/N. But we need more avatars than we have left if we are to defeat Ammit.” Osiris speaks calm but firm. “Take the powers that come with being my avatar, use them to defeat Ammit and when the job is done I will take them back from you. I will expect nothing more from you. You may continue to live your life free from any burden.”

“So just like, a temporary deal? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And once Ammit is dealt with, I can just be normal again?”

“Yes.” Osiris pauses. “Do you accept?”

“I do.”

— — — —

You gasp as you sit bolt upright on the cold stone floor of the pyramid, making Layla jump.

“Y/N?!” She says, grabbing your arms to ground you as you flail around in a panic. “I got, I got you.”

You take deep breaths, clutching your hands to your stomach. You lift your shirt and watch in shock as the wound from the dagger closes itself, leaving you fully healed. Any weakness left from Harrow’s staff is gone too. You feel amazing.

“What… what just happened?” Layla says, wiping tears from her face and staring at your stomach. She helps you up off the floor. “You were dead!”

“Osiris healed me.” You say, in shock yourself. Then you notice Layla’s outfit. Her mundane clothes from before gone, replaced with a gold and white Egyptian armour. “What are you wearing?”

“Taweret chose it.” She says before explaining how she agreed to be her temporary avatar. You in turn explained the deal Osiris offered you.

“Well, you look badass.” You say and she laughs. “Wait, if I’m an avatar too now, does that mean I get a costume too?”

A bright light swirls around you and when it disappears you’ve changed. No more blood soaked clothes. Instead you're wearing green armour, similar to Layla’s, with white and gold fabric wrapped around your body. Attached to your back is a long golden staff with a hooked end.

You look down at your clothes in amazement, then up at Layla. The two of you look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. You don't really know why you're laughing, but after the stress of the last few days it feels like a welcome break.

“So, what do we do now?” You says once you composed yourself. Layla sighs, shaking her head.

“I guess, we try to save the world.”

— — — —

The two of you head outside. To your surprise the sky is as dark as night, even though you're pretty sure it’s still daytime. The sky is filled with purple lights, flying up from across the city and towards the other side of the pyramid where Ammit is.

“She’s consuming souls.” Layla says as you watch horrified. The more lights she swallows the bigger she grows. She’s already almost the same size as the pyramid.

“How are we supposed to stop her?!” You ask, looking around frantically. You look up at the top of the pyramid. Harrow is up there, a purple glowing light surrounds him as he chants in a language you don't recognise.

Before you can say anything, someone flies up to the pyramid and begins to fight Harrow. You recognise the person to be the same as the action figure you found in the museum, dressed head toe in white.

“Who is that?” You ask Layla, turning her attention to the scene on the pyramid.

“Marc?” She gasps before turning to you. “Did Osiris resurrect him too?”

“I- I don't know. Maybe? I didn’t see him after we made it through the gates-”

You stop talking suddenly when you notice Khonshu appear next to Ammit. He goes to hit her with his staff but she reaches out a scaly hand and stops him. They begin to fight as Harrow and Marc fly though the air toward the town, still fighting each other. Khonshu manages to knock Ammit over and she comes crashing down near near you. The force of her slamming into the pyramid sends a cloud of dust and sand over you and Layla.

“Little bugs.” Khonshu says when he notices he almost flattened the two of you. “Go! Help Marc.”

Layla rolls her eyes at him as she wipes dust from her clothes before turning to you and nodding. You run away from the pyramid in the direction that Marc and Harrow had gone.

The streets are chaos. Everywhere you look Ammit’s disciples are grabbing people, judging their scales. You watch as Bobbi grabs someone. They begin to shake then fall to the floor as a purple light emerges from them and flies up into the sky. Those who aren’t distracted staring at the dark sky are running, screaming, from the disciples. As you begin fighting off disciples you notice Marc laying on the ground on the other side of the town square, Harrow stood over him with his cane pointed down at him. It starts to glow purple.

Layla swoops in just in time and knocks Harrow away. He fires purple light from his cane at Layla, but she reflects it with the golden armoured wings attached to her arms and it bounces back at Harrow. It sends him flying backwards into a crowd of people.

You knock out the guy you're fighting and run over to Marc. His face now uncovered and he spots you over Layla’s shoulder as he’s hugging her. As you get closer his clothes change to a white three piece suit.

“Y/N!” Steven’s voice calls happily as he hugs you tightly. His hand finds the crook attached to your back. “Oh my God, that- that’s Osiris’ crook! Oh that’s bloody brilliant that! Wow!”

“Steven I know this is a massive deal for you but we have to stop Harrow.” You say, smiling at him.

“Right yeah, sorry you just- you look amazing!” He smiles, turning to Layla. “You both do.”

You hear a scream and turn to see a woman with two young children being cornered by a group of disciples.

“I’ll go. You two get Harrow.” You say and Steven places a kiss on your cheek before he and Layla run into the crowd and begin fighting.

You run the other way, grabbing the crook and using it to pull the first bad guy away. You swing him round and send him crashing into the side of a nearby building. The others turn on you, but you effortlessly manage to dodge their attacks and one by one knock them all out. You help the mother and her children find somewhere safe to hide before turning your attention back to the others just in time to see Harrow fighting Marc.

“You need only remove one weed from the garden. You!” He says, purple light blasting from his cane at Marc.

Marc grabs one of his crescent moon shaped blades but Harrow uses the power from his cane to control Marc’s hand. Layla runs toward them but Harrow sends the blade flying at her and it pins her arm to the side of the truck, before sending a huge blast of power at Marc, forcing him down on his back. On a building above them you see Ammit has also overpowered Khonshu, pinning him down with his own staff.

Harrow advances towards Marc and you run, throwing yourself in between them.

“STOP!” You shout and Harrow looks at you like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Y/N..?” He says breathlessly. “You’re-”

“Alive? Yeah, I was surprised too.” You say sarcastically. “Why are you doing this? You told me you wanted to stop her!”

“That was before…”

“Before what?”

“Before I knew you would betray me!” He shouts, hitting you with a flash of power from his cane. It knocks you flying out of the way, rolling across the dusty ground. You feel like the wind has been knocked from you as you lay on the ground trying to get your breath back. Harrow advances on Marc again, raising his cane and slamming it into his chest. Purple light streams up through the cane, killing him slowly.

“NO!” You scream, scrambling to try to get up but a heavy boot comes down on your back. Bobbi stands over you, keeping you down, forcing you to watch. You look over at Layla, she’s surrounded by disciples, using her golden armoured wings to deflect the bullets being fired at her.

Marc turns his head to look at you before his eyes turn white.

You can’t really describe what happened next. Something takes over Marc and sends him into a killing frenzy. He’s unstoppable as he takes on multiple disciples at once, slaughtering each one without breaking a sweat. He turns to you and you feel Bobbi remove her foot from your back. She backs away but Marc throws a blade at her and it lodges itself in her forehead, killing her instantly. He locks eyes with you and you don't recognise him at all. That’s not Marc anymore, and it definitely isn’t Steven. He winks at you before taking on Harrow. It doesn’t take long for him to overpower him. Its only as he’s about to kill him that he freezes, his posture changing. He drops Harrow’s unconscious body and looks around in horror at the war zone around him.

“That wasn’t you, was it Steven?” He says and his suit changes. “Not a chance mate.”

He looks at you and you get up, dusting yourself down as you make your way over to him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, placing his hands on your face and checking you over.

“I’m fine, I’m more worried about you.” You reply.

“Marc?” Layla calls, freeing herself from where Harrow had trapped her. Steven changes back to Marc. “What the hell was that?”

“I blacked out.” He says. He looks genuinely worried.

A rumbling from the building next to you draws your attention to Ammit dragging Khonshu away.

“Get Harrow!” Layla says “I know how to stop Ammit.”

— — — —

Marc carries Harrow and you both follow Layla back to the tomb in the pyramid. Once inside Marc throws Harrow down on one of the stones.

“The power of the room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.” Layla explains. “Quick grab my hand so we can start the spell.”

Marc takes Layla’s hand and you take Marc’s. The three of you start chanting the spell in an ancient language, the words must be given to you by the gods because you have no idea what you're actually saying. A circle of light fills the tomb, surrounding the three of you and Harrow. Purple light descends down into Harrow’s body as the spell works. Harrow gasps awake, his wild eyes looking at the three of you.

“You can never contain me!” Ammit speaks through him. “I’ll never stop!”

“Do the honours, little bug.” Khonshu appears next to you and hands you the same dagger Harrow had earlier used to kill you. “Finish it! Leave neither of them alive.”

You look at the dagger, still stained with your own blood and feel anger boil inside you. You step up to Harrow, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him up to face you. His bright blue eyes stare into your own.

“Do it.” He croaks. He looks utterly defeated, ready to accept his fate.

You lift the dagger high, ready to plunge. Then you hear Ammit’s words from earlier.

‘She will be the one to kill you.’

You hesitate, thinking over those words. If you kill him now that means she was right about you.

“While he lives, so does she.” Khonshu’s words ring in your ears.

While Harrow lives, so does Ammit. Trapped in a mortal body.

“I said I wouldn’t kill you and I meant it.” You drop Harrow back down on the stone and throw the dagger to the floor. “There are worse fates than death.”

You turn your back and walk away.

“Weak little bug.” Khonshu mocks but you ignore him.

Layla takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I have to finish this.” Marc says suddenly, taking one of his blades and readying himself to stab Harrow. “If not I’ll never be free.”

“Marc!” Layla shouts. “You have a choice. You are free!”

“The choice is vengeance! We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

“Now you sound just like her.” Marc says, throwing his blade away. “You want them dead, do it yourself. Now release us!”

“As you wish.” Khonshu says before disappearing.

Marc’s suit starts to disappear, a bright white light shines out of his chest and fills the room. For a moment you’re blinded, and when the light fades you find Marc on his knees. His normal clothes have returned. You and Layla go to him, crouching beside him.

“Marc? Are you okay?” Layla asks, full of concern. He looks at her and nods.

“He’s gone.” He smiles. “Thank you for stopping me.”

“What do we with him?” You ask, looking over at Harrow still laying on the stone.

“Lock him up.” Marc replies. “He’s killed so many people there’s no chance he’ll never ever be released. He’ll be locked away until the day he dies. And then Ammit will be gone too.”

You can hear Harrow incoherently babbling away to himself, and you feel a sort of sadness creep in.

“You did the right thing Y/N.” Layla says, noticing the frown on your face.

“Then why do I feel so… weird?”

“Love…” Steven’s voice instantly makes you feel a bit calmer and he places his hands gently on your face, forcing you to look away from Harrow. “Hey, look at me… You died today. And then you came back. And then you helped save the world from a giant crocodile lady.” He says making you laugh. “That’s a lot to take in. You're allowed to feel weird. In fact I’d be worried if you felt normal after all that.”

“I know he did some really awful things but I- I almost kind of feel sorry for him. Is that wrong?” You admit and Steven smiles lovingly.

“That just proves even more that Ammit’s scales were wrong about you. You are a good person with a kind heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

He moves his hands to hold yours and you give him a small smile.

“Thank you.” You share a kiss, before remembering Layla is currently watching you kiss her ex husband. You pull away, giving her an awkward smile. “We should probably get going.”

“Yeah…” Steven laughs, picking up on the awkwardness of the situation. “Back to good old London town. Get this guy put away… behind bars… where he belongs…”

“Guys it’s fine.” Layla says, laughing at Steven’s awkward rambling. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Are you sure?” Marc’s voice again. He walks closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know I wasn’t the best husband. You deserved so much more.”

“It’s okay Marc, honestly. We’re better as friends.” She smiles a genuine smile at him. “Besides, I’ve decided I’m staying here in Egypt.”

“What?” You say, moving to join them. “You’re not coming with us?”

“While we were fighting out there, a young girl asked me if I was an Egyptian superhero and it made me realise, we didn’t have anything like that. But now we do. I’m going to stay here and work with Taweret to give more young Egyptian girls someone to look up to.” She smiles. “Plus, England is too cold anyway.”

“You got that right.” You laugh as you give her a tight hug. “you are gonna be the most badass superhero ever. But I’m gonna miss you.”

“You too.” She says and turns to Marc. “Look after her, or you’ll have me to deal with.”

“Yes ma’am.”

— — — —

Some Time Later

You headed back to England with Marc and Steven taking turns to take the body. Though you knew Steven best, the more time you spent with Marc the more you enjoyed his company too.

Ammit’s presence in Harrow’s body meant he became more and more mentally unstable. He spent a lot of time rambling incoherently and occasionally Ammit would takeover, shouting about how she would escape and make everyone pay. Because of this, Harrow was admitted to Sienkiewicz Psychiatric Hospital in London.

A few days after Harrow was committed, you went to visit him. You don't know why, you just felt like you needed to be sure he was safely locked away. When the nurses first brought you to him, you almost didn’t recognise him. He was sat in a wheelchair, his ankles restrained to it. He looked lost, vulnerable. It made a part of you feel quite sad.

“Hi Arthur.” You say quietly. He looks up at you blankly.

“He’s on quite strong medication, so he may not talk very much.” The nurse explains and you nod. “I’ll just be on the other side of the room, shout if you need me.”

“Thanks.” You reply, watching her as she goes to sit with another patient on the far side of the room. You sit down at the table opposite Arthur. “How are you doing? Have you settled in here?” You ask but get no response. You start to feel awkward. You look around the room, trying to think of something to say. You glance down at the table and see paper with some lines painted randomly on it. “Did you paint that?” Harrow looks down at it and nods. “You enjoy painting?” He nods again. “How about we do some together.”

You grab two more pieces of paper, putting one in front go Harrow and the other in front of yourself, and you start to paint. Harrow joins in and the two of you sit quietly together making your own little pictures.

When your picture is done you show Harrow and he smiles at the simple flower you have painted. He shows you his, just a triangle.

“It’s good.” You smile.

“It’s a pyramid. Like the ones they have in Egypt.” He says, slowly sounding more like himself. “Have you ever been?”

“To Egypt?” You ask and he nods. “Yeah I’ve been, with you. You took me there, remember?”

He stares at you for a long moment, a flicker of something like hurt flashes on his face, and then he goes blank again. You try to make more conversation, but he doesn’t say much after that.

Not long after the nurse comes back and tells you visiting time is over. You slide your flower painting across the table to Harrow.

“You can keep this.” You say smiling. “Goodbye Arthur.”

You get up and start to walk away.

“Y/N!” He calls, making you stop and turn back. “I’m really sorry I killed you.”

You didn’t say anything back, you just nod at him as the nurse leads you out.

As you sign yourself out the nurse speaks to you.

“That is the most alert and talkative we’ve seen him since he arrived. You must be someone important to him.”

Her words replayed through your head for the rest of the day and that night as you sat down to eat dinner with Steven you told him about it.

“I’ve been thinking, I might go back and see him again.”

“Really?” Steven asks. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You didn’t see him today Steven, he’s different. The dangerous man that we knew is gone. Now he just seems so… lost. I guess a part of me feels responsible for that.”

“Love…” Steven sighs, putting down his food to fully concentrate on you. “Harrow is where he is now because of the things HE did. The choices HE made. You gave him plenty of chances, even after he murdered you!” He reaches across the table to hold your hands. “Listen, Marc wants me to tell you not to go but I know that will make you want to do it even more.” He says and you laugh, nodding. “If this is something you really want to do, if it makes you feel better, then I think you should do it. Just, please be careful.”

“I will.”

The following week you head back to the hospital and do some more painting with Arthur. It soon became a regular thing. The more you visited the more chatty he became. He started to tell you about life in hospital, sharing stories about the other patients and in turn you told him about your life. Although he initially looked hurt to find out you and Steven were now dating, ultimately he said he was happy to see you happy.

If you hadn’t known him before, you wouldn’t guess this was once the leader of a cult intent on releasing a dangerous Egyptian goddess into the world. You’d never guess how much damage he had caused just weeks ago. And you’d certainly never guess that dangerous Egyptian goddess was now trapped inside him. There were hints occasionally that Ammit was trying to take over, to shout abuse at you, but Harrow always made sure she couldn’t hurt you.

You didn’t talk about what happened in Egypt, you didn’t want to drag it all up again. He wasn’t the same person now anyway. And at least he’d apologised to you. Instead you chose to give him a fresh start, and just enjoy your weekly visits talking and painting with Arthur Harrow.

—

Epilogue

One morning you woke up to a voice in your head.

Osiris’ voice.

“The deal is done. I release you from your duty.”

“What?”

“Ammit had been defeated.”

“Yeah, but that was weeks ago.” You say, not understanding why he’s waited till now to talk to you. “We imprisoned her in Arthur Harrow’s body and they’re both locked up.”

“I release you from your duty.” He repeats and you feel a strange sensation move through your body. Then nothing.

“Osiris?” You call out, but no reply. “Well that was weird…”

“You alright love?” Steven asks as he comes into the bedroom and hands you a cup of coffee.

“Osiris just released me.” You say confused as Steven sits on the bed next to you.

“Well that’s a good thing innit?” He replies with a smile.

“Yeah, definitely. It’s just… why now? Why this exact moment instead of when we bound Ammit or when her and Harrow were first locked away? What’s so special about this morning?”

“Osiris is a busy guy, maybe he didn’t have time until now. Or maybe you're just thinking into it too much…”

“I just think it’s a bit odd that’s all.”

“That’s the gods for ya, all a bit odd. I don't think us humans are supposed to understand ‘em.”

“You’re probably right.” You say before taking a sip of your coffee. “Anyway, where did you disappear to this morning?”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks blankly.

“I woke up in the early hours and you were gone.”

“I don't remember going anywhere… Marc?” He shifts and Marc speaks “Don't look at me. I thought we were sleeping all night.”

“Do you need the restraints back on the bed?”

“Only if you want them back” Marc says flirtatiously, flashing you a mischievous grin. He shifts again and Steven comes back. “Oy, back off you.” He says to Marc before focusing on you. "I probably just went to get water and don't remember. Don't worry about it.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Right, I’ve gotta get to work, laters gators.”

“Laters.” You laugh, and blow him a kiss. He mimes catching it and putting it in his pocket before leaving.

You decide to put the Osiris thing out of your head. Steven’s right, there’s no point trying to understand the mind of a god. You finish your coffee before you get out of bed and get ready for the day.

In the afternoon you head to the hospital as usual, and are surprised to see police cars parked outside the building. As soon as you step inside the nurse you’ve become used to seeing comes over to you.

“Y/N, please come with me.” She says, leading you into a small side room with a police officer inside.

“Is everything alright?”

“Please take a seat.” The officer says and gestures to the chairs. You sit down in one, the nurse sits next to you.

“What’s going on?” You ask, getting nervous.

“Miss Y/L/N, earlier this morning someone came into the hospital, murdered three members of staff and left with Arthur Harrow.”

“What?! Who?”

“We don't know yet. The CCTV cameras were damaged. All we have is a few eye witnesses who say they saw a smartly dressed man wearing a flat cap wheeling Harrow out of the building.” The officer explains, and you feel your heart start to race. If Harrow is out then Ammit could escape. The nurse notices your breathing has picked up and reached over to hold your hand. “I’m sorry, I understand this must be distressing. Harrow is your friend, correct?”

“Uh… yeah…” you reply, trying to focus on what the officer is saying and not the panic running around your head.

“According to the sign in sheets you’re the only regular visitor he has. Do you have any idea of who could have done this? Or why they would have done this?”

You search your brain for any options. The only people who really know who he is are yourself, Marc, Steven and Layla. You definitely didn’t do it. Marc and Steven wouldn’t have done it, and you can’t imagine Layla would have. You realise the officer is still looking at you for an answer.

“No, no sorry. I- I don't think he has anyone else.”

“Here, take my card. If you think of anything give me a call.” The officer hands you a small business card and the nurse leads you back out the room.

“Are you going to be okay? I know you’re quite close to him.” She asks, noticing how shook up you are she places a gentle hand on your arm. “Do you want me to call someone to pick you up?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you though.” You smile at her as you reach the door out the building. “You have my number, will you please let me know if there’s any news?”

“Of course. Take care Y/N.”

You head outside, and cross the street to where there’s a small park. You find an empty bench and sit for a moment to process the news and what that could mean. Who could have known Harrow was there? Who could have wanted him out? Maybe there’s another Ammit fanatic out there who wants her released?

A shudder goes down your spine at the thought of her getting out.

You take your phone from your pocket and phone Steven. It rings out. You roll your eyes and try Marc’s number instead, incase he’s got the body right now. They have separate phones and refuse to answer each other’s if it rings. His goes straight to voicemail. That’s unusual. You check the time, 4pm. Steven will probably be getting ready to leave work.

Needing to talk to someone you FaceTime Layla, she picks up almost straight away.

“Y/N! Hey!” She says happily, her smile drops when she see’s your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hey, uh… sorry to call I just, I need to talk to someone and Steven and Marc aren’t answering and no one else will understand-”

“Y/N, you don't need to apologise. What’s happened?”

“Harrow’s gone.” You blurt out and she stares through the phone at you. “Someone took him from the hospital this morning, they don't know who did it and they have no idea where he is. I’m scared, Layla.”

“Hey, alright, it’s going to be alright.” She says, though her voice has a hint of panic. “And you can’t get through to Marc?”

“His phone is off. I think Steven will be leaving work soon.”

“Okay, you head over to find him. I’ll keep trying his phone.” She says and you nod. “Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” She says and you get the feeling she’s trying reassure herself as much as she is you. You nod and she hangs up the phone before you start walking toward the road, looking for a taxi.

In the distance you see a white limo heading towards you. Usually you’d think nothing of it. You see a lot of different vehicles in London. But something about this one got your attention. The personalised number plate.

‘SPKTR’

You can’t help but stare at it as it gets closer to you. Something in your gut telling you to run.

The car slows down as it gets closer to you and you can just about make out though the windows that the driver is wearing a flat cap. The limo pulls over and stops next to you. The driver gets out and you stare at him confused.

“Marc…?” It’s definitely Marc’s body, but the expression isn’t Marc or Steven. It’s the same one you recognise from Egypt. The one who so easily fought and killed all Harrow’s disciples. Another alter?

“Hola, mi amor.”

He winks at you as he walks around the front of the car, past you and opens the door at the back of the limo for you. He gestures for you to get in. You hesitantly walk to where the door is and peer in. You have to slam your hand over your mouth to stop a scream from escaping.

There on the back seat is Harrow, a bullet hole in his forehead.

You back away but the driver pushes you inside and slams the door closed. You scramble to get out, to get away from the corpse, but the door is locked. You bang against the door, screaming for someone to let you out and then you hear a voice from inside the limo.

“Hello little bug.”

A/N: Thank you so so so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed this series as much as I loved writing it. please feel free to comment or send me an ask, I would love to hear your thoughts :)

Taglist : @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii/ @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker / @scoliobean

#moon knight #Steven Grant x reader #Marc Spector x reader #moon knight x reader #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly #Steven grant #marc spector #khonshu x reader #osiris #Arthur Harrow #arthur harrow x reader #ammit

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goodneighborxfallout · 8 months ago

Note

How would the companions react to Little Lamplight and Mayor Maccready?

Thanks for requesting!

Cait:

Little Lamplight: “It may seem cruel for these children to have to live like this but… I think I would prefer this over my own childhood, you know?”

MacCready: “Not a hope that this little shithead and MacCready are the same person! Way too polite, that bloke.”

Codsworth:

Little Lamplight: “A society run by children? Oh mum/sir, I don’t dare imagine little Shaun having to grow up in a place like this.”

MacCready: “Oh dear, such hostility from a child? I suppose I can’t expect anything different. These poor kids never had any proper adult guidance! Sir/mum, I propose we send a Ms Nanny their way!”

Curie:

Little Lamplight: “Oh, this is just horrible! No child should have to survive in these conditions! Isn’t there anything we can do to help them?”

MacCready: “Such vulgarity! Has no one got manners anymore in this world?”

Danse:

Little Lamplight: “Look what the war did to these children! This is yet more proof of why technology in the hands of the wrong people can have devastating consequences!”

MacCready: “The exact attitude one would expect from someone who’d grow up to be a mercenary.” (Mac: “What’s that supposed to mean??”)

Deacon:

Little Lamplight: “A parentless life is a sad reality for many children in the wastes. However morbid this may look, they’ve been managing well.”

MacCready: Deacon will try to convince mayor MacCready that he’s just a really tall child. On top of that, he will forever call adult MacCready ‘mungo’ and make up countless different reasons for how he knows that term.

Gage:

Little Lamplight: “Interesting set-up. I guess they’re pretty safe here from outside threats, except - you know - the gigantic green monsters next door.” (insert sarcasm)

MacCready: “Kid, you have no idea the kind of company I’ve had to deal with all these years. You wanna rile me up? Then stray away from your vanilla boring ass insults ‘cause I ain’t impressed.”

Hancock:

Little Lamplight: “Huh, cozying up right next to a super mutant den? Either these kids are incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Probably an unhealthy mix of both.”

MacCready: “So this is the origin story of our favorite mercenary? Hm, I’ll admit, almost as good as mine.”

Longfellow:

Little Lamplight: Longfellow won’t say anything, but a profound sadness washes over him at the sight in front of him. If somewhere deep down he still had hope for the world, it was now for sure fully taken away.

MacCready: “Youngsters these days…”

MacCready:

“Ahh the good old times.”

Nick:

Little Lamplight: “I can’t tell if I’m more impressed by their tenacity, or more disappointed that they need it to survive.”

MacCready: “Well, behind every hardened mercenary, there is some kind of tragic backstory, isn’t there?” He sighs. “Maybe I’ve been too hard on the kid.”

Piper:

Little Lamplight: “Oh god… I’ve always known the Wasteland was hard but… these are children. They should be getting raised by two loving parents not living like… this.”

MacCready: Piper’s always known MacCready as a chill mercenary who tries a bit too hard to flirt with her. She’s never paid much attention to him, but seeing him as a child living in these circumstances, she suddenly finds herself looking at him in a completely different light.

Preston:

Little Lamplight: “This is why we have to bring back the Minutemen! Children deserve to grow up in a safe place, not hiding out in a cave.”

MacCready: “Damn… With how chill he is, you’d never guess he had this kind of childhood. Certainly explains why he’s so good at his job though.”

Strong:

Little Lamplight: “Not safe for small human! Brother smash small human!”

MacCready: “Small human talk too much!”

X6-88:

Little Lamplight: “And here I thought I’d already seen the worst of the surface.”

MacCready: “Interesting. Somehow the child version seems tougher than the adult.”

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shes-some-other-where · 6 months ago

Text

June of Doom Day 6

“We’re out of time.” | Collapse

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: magic/fantasy whump, restraints, psychological whump, taunting, magic side effects (exhaustion, nosebleed), death wish, verbal threat toward a loved one (not present) vaguely alluding to noncon/SA

WC: 940

Deadness where there had before been life

The door to the seer’s room burst open.

“You’re going to find someone for me.” It was the prince, of course. He slammed the door behind him. “And I’m not feeling especially patient this morning, so you’d better make it quick. I’m not in the mood to have my time wasted.”

The seer rose warily from the pitiful palette they expected him to believe was a bed, watching the prince stride toward him. His foe certainly seemed different: angrier than usual, agitated. What, precisely, was the hurry? He acted like he was running out of time for . . . something. But why?

It seemed . . . wrong. Ominous.

“The northerner you saw before.” The prince flung a gold chain at the seer, forcing him to fumble to catch it. “He severed the magic on this. Find him for me. Now.”

Severed the magic . . .

The seer stared down at the bracelet which had, until recently, adorned his sister’s wrist. So, its curse had been broken.

The northerner you saw before . . .

A cursebreaker?

Frowning, the seer dared a curious glance between the broken bracelet and the prince’s face.

“I’m waiting.”

Hot, pulsing anger, tinged with apprehension, flooded through the seer. His visions had been unreliable of late, and more taxing, and they were only getting worse. Five years of practice should have honed his skills. Instead, the passage of time—and all the anguish it had wrought—seemed now to be taking its toll.

Even so, the seer knew he was powerless to refuse. No matter how much he wanted to fling the useless bracelet into the prince’s face. No matter how much he wanted to demand news of his sister. To know if there had been retribution for this broken curse. If that retribution had fallen disproportionately on her.

He closed his eyes, fingers clutched around the frail gold chain. The other hand, the one missing two digits, unconsciously curled into a tight, malformed fist.

He hated his gift still. After all this time, the dizzying foray into the lives of others, the sickening voyeurism into their memories, their dreams, their most private moments . . .

It tore at his soul.

No matter how many times he put himself through it, he remained convinced that constantly splitting himself into a million shapeless fragments and then stitching himself back together piece by piece would bring about his end.

The vision rushed over him, indistinct and watery at first, then growing clearer. A party. A ball. There’s to be a festival, she’d said during her weekly visit. He recalled, as if from another lifetime, the extravagance and frivolity of the vernal equinox, and the celebration that came with it. But his sister was there—dressed in brilliant, sanguine red. Why? What was this? A dream of hers, or a memory?

Shouldn’t be here.

Wracked with guilt, he flinched, sweat beading on his brow.

Find him. Not her. Him. The one who severed the magic.

There—there. A man approaching, tanned, smiling uncertainly. An awkward, loping gait, a nervous bow. Who? Why? The man. That man. Familiar. Older. Here. Dancing, stumbling, laughing.

The seer’s corporeal body twitched uncomfortably. His sister, she laughed, too. Quietly, gently, but earnestly. Lips brushed against fingers held aloft. Balcony. Stars. Flowers. Alarm. Fear. A kiss. A kiss? The seer balked, but he couldn’t escape, not while lost in the thrall of his vision. He watched, his heart bleeding, as his sister fled with tears in her eyes and the stranger gaped down at a broken piece of metal in his palm.

Find him.

Pain surged through him, digging into his body with white-hot spikes, as he forced the vision to shift. Find. Follow. Raised voices and worry. A bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat. I have to find her. Find her. Find him. The words mingled, nauseating, too loud. Pain in his skull, poison on his tongue. Find her.

A lonesome sunrise. A gold charm. Deadness where there had before been life. Find her. A setting sun, blood-red. A wrought-iron gate, barred. Find him.

“I’m going to find her!”

The seer’s eyes flew open, the vision fading. It felt like dying, like inconsolable loss, like bleeding out with nothing to staunch the flow of blood.

His legs gave out beneath him.

“He’s not far,” he rasped. “He’s looking for a way in. Looking for . . .”

I have to find her.

“Tonight,” he said. “He’ll be outside. South gate. Sunset.”

The prince’s face was pitiless as he stared down at the shaking form on the floor, then wrested the gold bracelet from his grasp. “You’re certain?”

The seer nodded, still trying to catch his breath. A hot trickle down his face told him his nose was bleeding.

“You grow more pathetic by the day,” the prince said. “The day your usefulness runs out, you know I’ll have you killed, right?”

The seer knew.

If only that day would come a little more swiftly.

“Still,” said the prince, “you’ve turned out to be more valuable than your worthless whore of a sister.”

The seer lurched forward, but the chain on his ankle snapped taut. He opened his mouth to hurl obscenities instead.

His voice was gone.

“Then again, I knew that from the start,” said the prince. “That cursebreaker better be in my possession by tonight, or I’ll give your sister to someone who will find a use for her.”

No voice, no strength, no weapon, no way to launch an attack.

The seer spat at the prince’s feet.

The prince scoffed as he opened the door and made to leave, pausing only to say one thing more before he vanished.

“Oh. That’s right. I already did.”

June of Doom Masterlist

<<< previous | next >>>

@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

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bunnytornado · 5 months ago

Note

Okay so imagine that Val decided to try and convince the other Vees that his name when he was human was William and a capital W is two Capital V’s so he should get half the money generated not one-third.

Pay Me The Money

TW: None

~~Vox x Velvette x Valentino~~

Vox could feel his fans whirling faster the more he tried to comprehend the stupidity that was coming out of Valentino’s mouth.

“That’s why I deserve half of our incoming profits instead of a third,” Valentino purred and continued to bedazzle his newest gun.

Velvette raised a brow and tilted her head, before questioning Valentino’s… reasoning. If one could call it that. “Because your mortal name was ‘William’. And a W is just… what bullshit did you say again?”

“I believe, what our dear partner stated was that a W is two Vs put together Vel. That is all a W is. Just…two Vs put together,” Vox reminded Velvette and downed his whiskey. “Which, in my opinion is actually a sound argument.”

“S-Sound!? That’s so fucking stupid. How can you agree with him Vox,” Velvette snapped. “I thought you were the brains.”

“Oh no. You have me mistaken my dear Velvette. I’m meaning it’s a sound argument on why Valentino should get less income,” Vox smirked as Valentino’s glare was locked on him.

Valentino squeaked out angrily, “Less!? How dare you! I should get more.”

“Not with you’re intelligence. It’s apparent to me that you need less to make sure you don’t waste my time on such a ridiculous notion,” Vox said as he rose from his seat. “Meeting is adjourned. I have a company to run. Valentino, please. Focus on what you are good at. Making the whores make us money. Leave the finances to the professionals.”

Velvette huffed and followed Vox’s example. “Seriously, that was stupider than meeting with the other fucking Overlords. Damnit Valentino, next time I’m stitching that mouth shut.”

“Easy Velvette. He meant well. After all, we would hate to be giving him too little or too much money,” Vox stated and guided Velvette out of the room.

“Wait a minute! Does this mean I get half,” Valentino asked.

“Here is the rest of your half,” Vox said and threw a small stack of bills onto the table from his pocket. He smirked as he watched Valentino count it out.

“1000…2000…3000…4000…5000...6000,” Valentino counted the bills out loud. Vox loved how bad this man’s eyesight was. Moments like this made it convenient.

When Vox and Velvette left Valentino to his…counting. Velvette couldn’t help but ask as soon as they got far enough away how much Vox had actually put down.

“Five Dollars,” Vox laughed and nudged Velvette. “Did you really think I would give him more?”

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never-enough-golden-kamuy · 2 years ago

Text

Warning shot

Smells like jealous!Vasily Vasily x fem!reader ~700 words Enjoy!

“Dinner?”

“No.”

“Drink then?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Tea?”

[Y/N] rubbed her sore temples. “I am really NOT interested in going out together.”

“Why not?”

“Why yes?” she snarled much harder than she intended, but in truth she was willing to take a headbutt from a goat if it meant the end of this conversation. “Over the last 20+ years, what behavior of yours would convince me to do it?”

The man seemed stung by the question as he took a half step back. Understanding quickly shone in his eyes.“Is it because of that foreigner?”

The question was so out of context that it took her mind off her to-do list for a moment and actually focused on him.

“He messed with your head and suddenly you forgot what people like him did to our brothers in the war.”

The woman froze at these words, blood roaring in her ears.

"I assure you," there was a slight trembling in her tone, "that the lack of my fondness toward you is the hard-earned fruit of the work of your own hands. The influence of Vasily's charm was negligible here.

"I didn't think you were stupid enough to fall for pretty eyes." Man seemed to completely ignore her words, already convicted to his own opinion.

It was amazing how quickly he went from being a suitor to insulting both Vasily and her. Who's next? Her family? Is he gonna cuss at her cat? She turned on her heel, seeing no further point in the conversation.

“Let's stop wasting our time.”

"I'm not done yet," the man growled.

“But I am.” [Y/N] didn't even bother to turn around. At least until the blast of a gunshot shook the street and a splinter of wall sprinkled her hair.

The man didn't even dare to move, his hand still outstretched to stop her. Only his eyes shifted in disbelief to the bullet aggressively gleaming in the wall right next to his face.

The woman took a quick glance around the streets, an icy shiver running down her spine. She had no doubt that the bullet was NOT aimed at her, but the sudden realization that she was under the sniper's watchful gaze caught her off guard. There were only townfolks no less surprised than her, exchanging glances and rabid remarks. Neither of them even held a gun.

Suppressing her trembling breath, she looked at her unwanted companion."It was a warning shot," she explained quietly. “Another will hit the leg. The third will be fatal. Leave while you can still do it on your own." She gave him the hardest look she could manage until he relented. He walked away muttering curses under his breath.

[Y/N] sighed softly and looked back at her chores list. She moved forward, gliding blankly over the letters, not absorbing a single sentence. She will have a talk in the evening.

“This warning shot was a close one.” [Y/N] closed the door behind her.

Vasily gave her a skeptical look out of the corner of his eye, pausing his pencil only for a moment. There was no remorse from him. The woman approached noiselessly and leaned against his back, embracing him. Vasily drew her attention to the paper on the table.

>>You didn't seem happy with your conversation<< said small message in the corner.

“I wasn't.”

>>And I don't like when other men try to touch you<< Vasily focused on the drawing again, adding more details. [Y/N] narrowed her eyes, trying to catch the emotions that were bottled in him, but the sniper was great at camouflaging them when he wanted to. She slid under his arm, occupying his lap and forcing him to focus on her. Blue eyes gazed at her with forced neutrality. She made him bow his head so she could kiss his forehead.

“Thank you for protecting me” she whispered before kissing his cheekbone exactly where a sudden blush covered his face and stopped over his lips. “But next time please, shoot him in the knee WITHOUT a warning. Okay?” She didn’t need an answer, already feeling Vasily’s smile on her lips.

#vasily #golden kamuy vasily #vasily pavlichenko #vasily golden kamuy #golden kamuy #golden kamuy x reader #never enough my stories #never enough golden kamuy #vasily pavlichenko x reader

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den-of-the-jadewizard · 1 year ago

Text

Whumptober: Day One; I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.

"But you're already gone..."

A/N: This one's a bit rusty, and doesn't feel whumpy enough for me, but that's okay. It gets better.

This is the FNAF AU for the cast of Unified, my comic about shape people. Since I'm hyper fixed on Unified, a lot of these one shots are about them.

"Brother...?"

Bracer stilled, almost bristling as he heard Swift's meek and concerned tone. He didn't dare move his gaze from the corkboard in front of him. He didn't answer him either, hoping his silence was enough to get the point across that he wanted to be left alone right now.

"We've talked about this..."

He put a hand up to cut Swift off. Of course, he wouldn't take the hint. Bracer huffed a sigh, reply curt and to the point.

"I don't want to hear it."

"It wasn't your fault-"

"You've told me a million times already."

"It's true."

"I know that."

"I don't believe you. You've been running yourself ragged for the past month on this, Bracer. The case has been closed-"

"It's not!" Bracer slammed the table and whipped around to face him, snarling.

Swift flinched at the sudden outburst.

"You're a hypocrite, Swift," he rebuked him, "The hell is this any different from the cold case

you've been deadlocked on for four fucking years!?"

"Least we had a lead, but here we knew what had happened how it malfunctioned-"

"-No, I'm not going to listen to whatever you're spewing. If you're here to do that then get the hell out of my house..."

"Bracer, I-"

"Get out," He took a step towards him, Swift taking a step back, "...now."

Bracer took another step, and he took another back as well, this continued till they were out the door, Swift franticly tried once more to convince him.

"Brother, please! I knew they meant quite a lot to you but..." Swift trailed off upon seeing his shocked and then outraged expression.

Bracer trembled in rage, the simple sentence tipping him off. How could he possibly know what he was feeling right now? How dare he...

"YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY LIFE!!!" He screamed at him. "How could you possibly know!? When you've been gone for most my fucking life!?!"

Swift reared back, almost like he was just shot. The words cut deep but Bracer couldn't stop himself, wouldn't, not this time.

"Bracer, I- I'm..."

"They were a better family than you ever were..." He said coldly, venom dripping off his tongue.

Bracer did not waste time in staring at Swift's shocked expression. He slammed the door in his face before turning to flee down the hall, charging into his room and slamming his door behind him as well.

He screamed, throwing any objects in reach against the walls and across the room. He couldn't control himself any longer, he couldn't stand it.

His voice cracked, throat feeling as if it was being torn in two. He yelled at the top of his lungs, sounding as if he was being murdered, it was a wonder no one called the police. He didn't care about anything but the rage...the hurt.

He threw himself onto his bed, screaming and clawing into the sheets, his body thrashing as if trying to bury itself into it.

Why did they have to visit that damn restaurant!?

WHY!?

It should've been him.

'It' wanted him.

Not them.

So why?

Grief crashed into him like a freight train. He sobbed bitterly into the sheets, body heaving in vain attempt to calm himself.

He wanted them back...

He just...wanted them.

Just...

...

Bracer wasn't sure when he had cried himself to sleep, it surely didn't matter. It wasn't the first time he did so and probably won't be the last either.

It all shifted into a deep-seated numbness as he laid on his side. He was spent from last night, it had all been too much, not just this but all of it had. He glanced at his closed door, a sense of longing hitting him. Part of him expecting them to just knock on the door and walk in.

He sighed, closing his eyes again. He doubts he'll have the strength to even get out of bed today, much less continue with the investigation.

He was left alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Alone...

Swift...

Bracer had probably drove away the only living person who cared about him anymore. He had no hard feelings about his past, he was angry and just saying whatever without a sense of tact. He noted to apologize whenever he met with him next, if he ever did.

However, the case still had not made any sense to him. He didn't want to let go of it, he needed to know why it happened. Animatronics don't normally have a bite strength hard enough to kill anyone, it would go against every law of common sense for any company at all, it had to be intentional in some way. Plus, with the numerous other cases of tragedy happening in many different franchises, it all had to be connected in some way as well.

His head started to ache again, he was straining to think, he felt terrible. He huffed a sigh again, and stopped thinking, just lying there helplessly numb to the world outside his bedroom.

He'll figure this out...

Even if it kills him.

He owes them that much.

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #lyric #OC #fic #cuss words #Unified #fnaf au #yes fnaf au but it feels enough from fnaf that I put it just as OCs #angst #emotional whump

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dollsdiscord · 2 years ago

Text

JOSHUA BASSETT ASK MEME

CRISIS

“i don’t know if i can”

“i still wanna run”

“if you get to tell your truth, then so do i”

“it’s cool if you still want me to play the bad guy”

“don’t you dare act like i didn’t love you”

“don’t go thinking that i didn’t hurt too”

“don’t you ever wonder if i’m okay after all you put me through”

“half the shit you’re saying’s only half true”

“i can’t help but wonder, why won’t you make it end?”

“you would never dare to waste a crisis”

“what the hell am i supposed to do with that?”

“i wish that i could open my eyes and the nightmare’d be over”

“you’re messing with my life as a career move”

“weren’t you the one who left in the first place?”

“weren’t you the one who called things off?”

“was it an act to love me or to hate me?”

SECRET

“we kissed, but it felt different”

“i should’ve seen it coming then”

“you swore you only had a crush”

“you told me that you would cut him off”

“my friends all warned me i should run for the hills”

“i defended you”

“your secret’s safe with me”

“i’m keeping my mouth closed”

“you don’t even know i know”

“darlin’, how could you be so cold?”

“how could you be so cold?”

“i really hope you had your fun”

“good for you, fooling everyone”

“your smoke and mirrors had me hypnotized”

“i heard the truth last night”

“the truth you can’t deny changed everything”

“you can’t hide behind what’s clear as day”

“i’m keeping my mouth closed”

SET ME FREE

“i don’t know what i did to deserve all of this”

“i’ve been going through it too”

“i know you feel used, i know you’ve been hurt”

“i’d take it all back if i could”

“why must i hurt for you to feel okay?”

“you don’t get to take all of me”

“i don’t recognize you, not anymore”

“you’re not the love that i fell for”

“i’ve been running away”

“it’s been a fucking year”

“i’ve been facing my fears”

“i’ve gotta lock the door and throw away the key”

“i hope you know i still care about you”

“i won’t ever let you hurt me how you hurt me again”

“set me free”

USED TO IT

“i’m not surprised you didn’t call”

“when i almost died, you didn’t care at all”

“i guess i got used to it”

“you’re covering up all your sins”

“I blame it on us being kids”

“you had me convinced its my mind thats playing tricks”

“you stabbed me in the back and i’m the one that’s saying sorry again”

“you told our friends you’re glad it hurts”

“you’re the only love i’ve had”

“i won’t say what i can’t take back”

“you did things i can’t forgive but mercy doesn’t always make sense”

“i’m the one who let you in again”

“i can’t be mad, i let you treat me like that”

“after all that you did, i won’t admit it’s you i miss”

SMOKE SLOW

“is it naive to thing we could work?”

“the second it’s out, i lose her”

“we’re already here so one more won’t hurt”

“all that we are is all that we’ll ever be”

“there’s only so far we can go”

“take your time while you’re mine”

“i’m telling you things i’ve never said”

“hope i don’t regret this”

“it’s one little spark that we won’t put out”

“isn’t it fun just for now?”

“he’s the one waiting at home”

“i’m addicted to illusions of a love that never was and never will be”

“nicotine don’t taste the same if i’m not with you savoring every breath we take”

“take me higher”

“take your time while you’re mine and smoke slow”

ALL IN DUE TIME

“i know i’ll find my way out”

“just cause it gets better doesn’t mean it’s better right now”

“are all of my tears gonna turn into something?”

“is all of this pain just for nothing?”

“maybe someday it’ll all fade away”

“maybe someday it’ll all fade away and the weight of the world won’t be mine”

“maybe i’ll see at the end of the day who i am made it all worth the while”

“these scars will be stories i tell”

“these scars will be stories i tell, all in due time”

“i’m still cleaning up all the mess i made”

“just cause it’s over doesn’t mean i’m over it now”

“it hurts while it’s healing”

“i’m just trying to get back the feeling”

LIFELINE

“i called you without a second thought”

“she pictures a life without her son”

“i’m just glad you made it into town”

“save me”

“save me now, i’m facing all the fears of the unknown”

“i’ve been shaking in my bones”

“lately i’ve been praying”

“i can’t do this on my own”

“try not to cry”

“i won’t say goodbye just yet”

“hold onto my hand”

“i’ll be fine for tonight”

“i’ll be fine for tonight with you by my side”

“don’t you know, you’re my lifeline?”

“i’m not good at calling”

“dad said i’ve fallen off the grid”

“we hardly say i love you”

“let go cause i won’t waste another minute”

“we’re drifting from difference of opinion”

“i can’t be mad i’m not what you prayed for”

“i’ve been thinking of running away”

“i’ve just gotta get out of this town”

“lately everyone’s bringing me down”

“i’ve been making a run for my life”

“i’m not sure if i’ll make it tonight”

“i guess i’ve run out of things i can say”

“it’s time to grow up”

“my father told me not to cry in front of my mom”

“now that i’m older i couldn’t tell you the last time i cried”

“i put on a show, slap on a smile”

“everyone comes here but nobody leaves”

“we’re all only actors, no one’s actually happy”

“no one’s actually happy”

“where are you going?”

“how can you help me to get where i need”

“when everything is going right, they’re on you’re side”

“just as your luck runs out, they’re harder to find”

SAD SONGS IN A HOTEL ROOM

“how the hell did we end up where we did?”

“don’t you think it’s messed up”

“it all went to shit”

“it’s kinda depressing being here alone”

“in one year it all went to shit”

“we checked in together and i never checked out”

#( ass meme. )#joshua bassett #joshua bassett ask meme

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allisluv · 1 month ago

Note

hi girl! not a request just need to vent it’s academic related and I don’t like to share the big uncertainties with people in my circle because I’m scared of not being the person who always comes out with high grades, especially for assessments with some weight to them. Damn it’s just like, the further I drag myself throughout the week, the harder shit gets. Every single hour there’s something new to do. And I should have it all organized because I made study plans for each day and I’m following it well enough so far so why doesn’t it feel that way? How dare I be lying in bed comfortable? How dare I type this for you to read when I should be practicing my presentation or analyzing a book or researching 15 scientists and their marvelous discoveries. I’m telling myself I still have the next few days and I carved out time of course it’s alright but I also have these minutes tonight okay what I’m saying is that if my laptop isn’t open, my papers aren’t out, and my pencil isn’t in my hand then everything else taking its place is a waste of time. I haven’t even changed clothes yet because in my head it solidifies the fact that I’m done for the night and that just doesn’t fit with me. I already had two big breakdowns, one in September and one last month because of the same reasons so I’m really trying to keep it all in this week because I don’t want to let it happen again or else I’ll be convinced this became something I’ll never escape. I could feel myself tearing up the whole time writing this and am finally crying now. AND ANOTHER THING, it’s just not fair that I’m such a committed student I’ve hardly ever performed low but I’m fucking slow at everything. I feel like I’m running just to keep up with people who’re walking and even then I’m barely keeping up.

hi lovely! i'm so sorry to hear this! if you feel comfortable sending another ask, do you want advice or did you just want someone to listen? <3

#allisluv answers

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ifseenoendinis · 3 months ago

Text

A Servant to Servants

I didn’t make you know how glad I was

To have you come and camp here on our land.

I promised myself to get down some day

And see the way you lived, but I don’t know!

With a houseful of hungry men to feed

I guess you’d find... It seems to me

I can’t express my feelings any more

Than I can raise my voice or want to lift

My hand (oh, I can lift it when I have to).

Did ever you feel so? I hope you never.

It’s got so I don’t even know for sure

Whether I am glad, sorry, or anything.

There’s nothing but a voice-like left inside

That seems to tell me how I ought to feel,

And would feel if I wasn’t all gone wrong.

You take the lake. I look and look at it.

I see it’s a fair, pretty sheet of water.

I stand and make myself repeat out loud

The advantages it has, so long and narrow,

Like a deep piece of some old running river

Cut short off at both ends. It lies five miles

Straight away through the mountain notch

From the sink window where I wash the plates,

And all our storms come up toward the house,

Drawing the slow waves whiter and whiter and whiter.

It took my mind off doughnuts and soda biscuit

To step outdoors and take the water dazzle

A sunny morning, or take the rising wind

About my face and body and through my wrapper,

When a storm threatened from the Dragon’s Den,

And a cold chill shivered across the lake.

I see it’s a fair, pretty sheet of water,

Our Willoughby! How did you hear of it?

I expect, though, everyone’s heard of it.

In a book about ferns? Listen to that!

You let things more like feathers regulate

Your going and coming. And you like it here?

I can see how you might. But I don’t know!

It would be different if more people came,

For then there would be business. As it is,

The cottages Len built, sometimes we rent them,

Sometimes we don’t. We’ve a good piece of shore

That ought to be worth something, and may yet.

But I don’t count on it as much as Len.

He looks on the bright side of everything,

Including me. He thinks I’ll be all right

With doctoring. But it’s not medicine -

Lowe is the only doctor’s dared to say so -

It’s rest I want - there, I have said it out -

From cooking meals for hungry hired men

And washing dishes after them - from doing

Things over and over that just won’t stay done.

By good rights I ought not to have so much

Put on me, but there seems no other way.

Len says one steady pull more ought to do it.

He says the best way out is always through.

And I agree to that, or in so far

As that I can see no way out but through -

Leastways for me - and then they’ll be convinced.

It’s not that Len don’t want the best for me.

It was his plan our moving over in

Beside the lake from where that day I showed you

We used to live - ten miles from anywhere.

We didn’t change without some sacrifice,

But Len went at it to make up the loss.

His work’s a man’s, of course, from sun to sun,

But he works when he works as hard as I do -

Though there’s small profit in comparisons.

(Women and men will make them all the same.)

But work ain’t all. Len undertakes too much.

He’s into everything in town. This year

It’s highways, and he’s got too many men

Around him to look after that make waste.

They take advantage of him shamefully,

And proud, too, of themselves for doing so.

We have four here to board, great good-for-nothings,

Sprawling about the kitchen with their talk

While I fry their bacon. Much they care!

No more put out in what they do or say

Than if I wasn’t in the room at all.

Coming and going all the time, they are:

I don’t learn what their names are, let alone

Their characters, or whether they are safe

To have inside the house with doors unlocked.

I’m not afraid of them, though, if they’re not

Afraid of me. There’s two can play at that.

I have my fancies: it runs in the family.

My father’s brother wasn’t right. They kept him

Locked up for years back there at the old farm.

I’ve been away once - yes, I’ve been away.

The State Asylum. I was prejudiced;

I wouldn’t have sent anyone of mine there;

You know the old idea - the only asylum

Was the poorhouse, and those who could afford,

Rather than send their folks to such a place,

Kept them at home; and it does seem more human.

But it’s not so: the place is the asylum.

There they have every means proper to do with,

And you aren’t darkening other people’s lives -

Worse than no good to them, and they no good

To you in your condition; you can’t know

Affection or the want of it in that state.

I’ve heard too much of the old-fashioned way.

My father’s brother, he went mad quite young.

Some thought he had been bitten by a dog,

Because his violence took on the form

Of carrying his pillow in his teeth;

But it’s more likely he was crossed in love,

Or so the story goes. It was some girl.

Anyway all he talked about was love.

They soon saw he would do someone a mischief

If he wa’n’t kept strict watch of, and it ended

In father’s building him a sort of cage,

Or room within a room, of hickory poles,

Like stanchions in the barn, from floor to ceiling, -

A narrow passage all the way around.

Anything they put in for furniture

He’d tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on.

So they made the place comfortable with straw,

Like a beast’s stall, to ease their consciences.

Of course they had to feed him without dishes.

They tried to keep him clothed, but he paraded

With his clothes on his arm - all of his clothes.

Cruel - it sounds. I ‘spose they did the best

They knew. And just when he was at the height,

Father and mother married, and mother came,

A bride, to help take care of such a creature,

And accommodate her young life to his.

That was what marrying father meant to her.

She had to lie and hear love things made dreadful

By his shouts in the night. He’d shout and shout

Until the strength was shouted out of him,

And his voice died down slowly from exhaustion.

He’d pull his bars apart like bow and bow-string,

And let them go and make them twang until

His hands had worn them smooth as any ox-bow.

And then he’d crow as if he thought that child’s play -

The only fun he had. I’ve heard them say, though,

They found a way to put a stop to it.

He was before my time - I never saw him;

But the pen stayed exactly as it was

There in the upper chamber in the ell,

A sort of catch-all full of attic clutter.

I often think of the smooth hickory bars.

It got so I would say - you know, half fooling -

“It’s time I took my turn upstairs in jail” -

Just as you will till it becomes a habit.

No wonder I was glad to get away.

Mind you, I waited till Len said the word.

I didn’t want the blame if things went wrong.

I was glad though, no end, when we moved out,

And I looked to be happy, and I was,

As I said, for a while - but I don’t know!

Somehow the change wore out like a prescription.

And there’s more to it than just window-views

And living by a lake. I’m past such help -

Unless Len took the notion, which he won’t,

And I won’t ask him - it’s not sure enough.

I ‘spose I’ve got to go the road I’m going:

Other folks have to, and why shouldn’t I?

I almost think if I could do like you,

Drop everything and live out on the ground -

But it might be, come night, I shouldn’t like it,

Or a long rain. I should soon get enough,

And be glad of a good roof overhead.

I’ve lain awake thinking of you, I’ll warrant,

More than you have yourself, some of these nights.

The wonder was the tents weren’t snatched away

From over you as you lay in your beds.

I haven’t courage for a risk like that.

Bless you, of course, you’re keeping me from work,

But the thing of it is, I need to be kept.

There’s work enough to do - there’s always that;

But behind’s behind. The worst that you can do

Is set me back a little more behind.

I sha’n’t catch up in this world, anyway.

I’d rather you’d not go unless you must.

—Robert Frost

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amjustagirl · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: catching fire

chapters: 4 / 15 pairing: miya osamu x f! reader genre: romance, angst, fluff, inarizaki shenanigans wc: 5.1k summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.

(prev / next)

You spent your whole life learning to be lonely but Miya Osamu turns everything inside out, upside down. He’d apologised to you that morning, knocking knees as you sat on the sidewalk, devouring the onigiris he brought you.

“For assumin’ things”, he says - “though to be clear - I really wasn’t lookin’ down on your job. I don’t see anythin’ wrong with working at a combini. It’s a good, honest job. I ain’t gonna judge you if you’re okay with it.”

“But you still think it’s a waste.”

He rolls his shoulders, stretching them languidly. “Can ya blame me?” he’d asked. “I’ve never seen anyone just step in and run a service like that before. It looked like you could make onigiris in your sleep!”

You tuck your hair behind your ear, tilting your chin down in an attempt to curl in on yourself. “I mean - as I said, I was kinda trained for it.”

“Mm.”

And though this is usually a topic that’ll make you clam up, scuttling back into your shell, because Osamu just hums in response, leaning back on his hands as if to leave you enough space to change the subject if you so choose, you decide to peek out of your cave, take one step into the sun.

“My dad used to own a sushi restaurant”, you explain. “What you’re renting from me - that used to be my family’s restaurant. I trained there ever since I could hold a knife - I’m not even sure I was older than five but they wanted me to have a head start.”

“Why can’t I play with the other kids?” you ask your mother in earshot of your father. “Why do I have to help out at the store all day? I don’t wanna make sushi like Oto-san. I wanna go out and play?”

You’re thrown out by your ear, ordered to squat by the trashcans under the scorching sun until you learn how to behave like you’re meant to.

To be seen, not heard.

To exercise your nimble fingers, not your loud mouth.

To be a good, dutiful daughter, a sad consolation prize to the glaring lack of a son.

You scoff softly. “‘I was supposed to take over when my dad passed but then I realised I couldn’t. ‘Twas too much.”

“Hmm”, is all Osamu has to say. But when you glance up at him, his face is devoid of any judgement.

“Hmm?”

He tips his head back, squinting against the sun’s glare.

“Everyone expected me to go pro, play volleyball full time”, he says as your eyebrows jump up in surprise. “M’ not boastin’ or anythin’ - but I was pretty damn good at it. Went to nationals, got picked for a couple of training camps here and there. ‘Tsumu - he’s my twin, you haven’t met him yet, but he’s a pain in the ass, so it’s a good thing you haven’t - anyway. Yeah - so ‘Tsumu was convinced that we’d take on the world together, smash our way onto the national team, go to the Olympics, bring home a gold or two.”

"What happened?"

A snort.

"Though that was all I was trained to do - " like you, the subtext implied - "I didn't wanna do it. Pissed 'Tsumu off so much we got into a fistfight - nearly got suspended but our captain intervened. In the end, Tsumu and I decided that we'll see who's had the happier life when we die."

“So who’s ahead as of now?”

Another soft snort. "It's definitely gonna be me. Don’t listen to what Tsumu says."

You’re sure his brother would vociferously dispute that, but fortunately, he's not around to press his case. "So you're saying you're like me?" you ask.

"I wouldn't dare. Not when you're far more talented a chef than I am", Osamu jokes. But when you roll your eyes skywards, his expression turns serious.

"All I'm sayin' is nothing matters as long as you're happy with your life."

He doesn't ask the unspoken question - whether you are happy. It's a good thing he doesn't, because you're not sure whether you can even respond. But you figure you've probably reached your quota of opening your gut to allow your heart a moment in the sun, you don't give him a chance. So you elbow him, teasingly asking if he's seriously out of onigiri already when he promised you a big breakfast.

"Greedy guts", he chuckles, climbing to his feet. "C'mon. I'll feed you all the onigiri you can eat." Then, tapping his chin mock-thoughtfully, he adds - "on one condition."

You raise a brow. "What?"

"If you have time, would you teach me how to cook?"

"Miya-san, you're literally a chef" you point out patiently.

"I never went to any of those fancy culinary schools and now I've got a real life sushi chef who's dropped into my lap. Can ya blame me for wantin' to take advantage of that?"

"Free flow onigiris all day?"

"I'll throw in all the barley tea and pork bone soup you can drink."

For the first time in forever, you throw your head back to laugh openly, without restraint. "Deal", you answer, doubling over when he shows his appreciation by curtseying to you.

If you consider your life frozen in place after your parents died, meeting Miya Osamu sparks a chemical reaction, lighting a fire that starts to tear through your life. The first kiss of warmth against bare skin and you start to awaken from your long hibernation, brushing off the white fleece of snow to turn your face towards the embrace of the sun.

Since it’s no longer a secret that you’re well-versed in the food business and with Osamu’s blessing (though he tries to argue that if you’re going to be helping out, he should actually be paying you a wage - you just stare and refuse to hear any further from him) you feel more at ease slipping into Onigiri Miya’s kitchen to help out as and when you please.

You’d missed working rice with your hands, the satisfaction that comes with creating good, unpretentious food that feeds and nurtures. At first you’re just glad not to be shunned by his crew, trying your best to be a help and not a hindrance, an extra pair of hands willing to do whatever’s thrown at you, but they exceed your expectations by accepting you easily as one of them.

Suzuki-san, the matriarch of Onigiri Miya’s staff, dotes on you to no end. She nags at you incessantly, always greeting you with various iterations about whether you’ve eaten, and whether what you’ve eaten is enough. ‘Suzuki-san’, you always answer patiently, ‘I probably eat far too much’. Not that you’ve ever managed to convince her, because she always insists you sit down and eat. Sometimes you get away with diverting her attention to Miyamura-kun because he deserves more mothering, being so far away from his family, you point out to Osamu when he pokes fun at you for using the shy younger boy as a shield.

He’s not so amused when Morita and Ishida start dancing attention on you. “We’re just teasing”, the duo cries when they try to ask you out for coffee - jokingly, you’re sure because firstly - they’re much younger than you, fresh in their twenties, and secondly - why would anyone ask you out anyways, so Osamu really doesn’t have to worry about you feeling pestered, you don’t mind their boyish antics much.

“They’re being twats”, he states flatly. “If they bother you too much, I’ll deal with them.”

Morita and Ishida do call you pretty lady in jest, you’re sure, but they’re fun to be around, jokes ricocheting off the walls of the kitchen, and they actually look out for you, snapping at customers are a little less polite to you. So you like them, and Osamu eases off when you reassure him.

“It’s kinda nice being around them”, you muse. “It’s like having a set of twin brothers growing up - though I’m not sure I’d have survived that.”

Osamu snorts. “Twins are terrors. My whole family can attest to that.”

Miya Osamu, you soon realise, doesn’t just have a tight knit family at work. You meet his twin brother Atsumu when he sticks his head into the store to holler for his brother, stopping short when you inform him politely that Osamu’s out for a delivery.

“You’re new” he peers at you. “Definitely haven’t seen you around before.”

You stumble through your explanation that you’re really just his landlady but you’re just interested in honing your rusty kitchen skills so here you are. You much prefer Osamu’s smile to that of his twin’s, because Atsumu smirks at you as you fumble through your explanation, a cheshire grin that you suspect is at your expense.

“Everyone’ll tell you I’m definitely the better lookin’ one of us two, but ‘Samu really isn’t too bad himself, don’t tell him I said that though or he won’t make me food anymore - he can be real touchy sometimes - he’s an all-round scrub, but he can be cool despite all of that - ”

“You do realise you’re identical twins, right?”

“Miya-san”, you bow, greeting the woman you mistook for Osamu’s wife the first time you met him.

“Darlin’, light o’ my life, mother of my children-”

“-To my eternal regret”

Kaiyo grins at you even as she grapples with her husband who’s clinging on to her and complaining about her jab imitating a strangely vocal, oversized limpet. Once freed of Atsumu, who sulks in a corner, she playfully scolds you to call her by her name instead of Miya-san, 'especially since there’re enough Miyas to start a volleyball team. You’re momentarily confused when she starts berating Atsumu for sellin’ Osamu wrongly, is that really the best you could’ve come up with - but she corrals you into a seat, offering you mochi that she brought for Osamu - yet another weakness of yours.

“I’m trying to convince you that I’m actually friendly and NOT scary as these idiots might claim.”

You murmur that you’re sure she’s definitely not intimidating at all (though if you’re being honest, her intensity takes a little getting used to) and she smiles triumphantly at her husband, though he just reaches over to pinch her nose.

“Shoo - you’re a nuisance -”

It’s a little funny to watch Atsumu traipse off to find Osamu in the back, tail between his legs.

Kaiyo continues, unruffled. “I hear you’ve been helping out around Onigiri Miya - that’s so nice of you! ‘Specially since I know ‘Samu’s always drowning in work, and he’s mentioned you’ve helped so much!”

You tuck your hair behind the shell of your ear. “He has?” you mumble, cheeks burning hot.

“He has!” Kaiyo chirps, her smile stretching out into a self-satisfied grin. ‘Anyway, enough of these men - tell me more about yourself! I hear you used to run a sushi restaurant! That’s amazing!”

The wave of self consciousness crashes against the rocks when you explain that you’re really just a worker at 7/11, flooding across you when you find out Kaiyo is a high-powered forensic accountant, working in one of those tall, glass buildings downtown. Sometimes you wonder if things had been different - if you weren’t told that your sole purpose in life was to take over your family’s business, maybe you would’ve had the chance to explore something other than wielding a kitchen knife - perhaps, perhaps, like Kaiyo, perhaps you might’ve gone to university, fallen in love, had a family. Though you figure it’s probably pointless to mull over what could’ve been, what might’ve been, because you’re you.

Life deals you the cards, you stick to that.

But that wave recedes almost immediately when she doesn’t show any sign of confusion or judgement, acknowledging you as a ‘working girl, earning your keep, just like her!’ It recedes even further, the precursor to the full-blown tsunami that’s about to sweep through your life (Miya Kaiyo, after all, is a force of nature to be reckoned with), when she perks up as you mention the name of your family’s restaurant, clapping her hands together when it turns out that your family used to purchase their kitchen knives from hers - you yourself grew up with the heft of the Nakayama family’s knives, so it’s no wonder it’s so easy for you to acclimatise to Osamu’s kitchen, since he too uses their knives.

“See! Fate decreed that we’re meant to be friends!” Kaiyo exclaims.

Right at that moment, Osamu walks in, eyes narrowing as he notices the proximity between you and his irrepressible sister in law, ears pricking up as he overhears her comment.

“Be less desperate for female friendship”, he deadpans, scuttling when she swipes at him playfully, ducking into the kitchen to escape her imminent wrath.

“‘Samu’s annoying”, Kaiyo grouses, but still she doesn’t relinquish her hold on your hand. “But ignore him! I know I probably sound desperate - but I do want to be friends, if you’d like! It’s hard to make friends when you’re an adult. I only moved to Osaka for university and then spent most of my twenties building a career and taking care of my family, and then my best friend married one of ‘Tsumu’s friends and moved all the way to rural Hyogo -”

Atsumu guffaws. “Yer not allowed to complain about it, you literally dumped Ichika into Shinsuke’s lap -”

“So if you’d like to exchange numbers, we can hang out together, when we’re free if you like”, Kaiyo continues, undeterred despite her husband’s interjection. “We are going to be firm friends, I’m sure of it!”

Friends…?

You never knew what to talk to your classmates about when you were in school. Shared topics of conversation eluded you when you spent all your time at your father’s restaurant, learning to slice fish and wash rice instead of participating in after school club activities or watching anime. You were not pretty as a child, awkward in the way teenagers are wont to be, and there’s nothing particularly outstanding about you that’d make your peers give you a chance.

“You want to be friends?” your voice trails off. Confusion keeps striking you, despite the proverbial saying that lightning never strikes twice, but the Miya clan seems intent on defying all odds. “With me?”

Kaiyo grins, fishing your phone from your hand. “Of course”, she replies, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, though it’s far from obvious to you.

“Why?” you ask, still stunned.

She peers at you. Noticing your unease, she takes a step back to grant you a little more space, the curve of her mouth soft.

“Why wouldn’t I want to know you?” she answers.

You don’t have an answer to that. So even though you’re still reeling from the unexpectedness of the universe dropping two separate individuals seeking out your friendship in the span of a few months, you start reciting your number.

“Fair warning, I’m a really boring person”, you say as she types it down, a wide smile on her face. “I’m not sure I’ll be fun to hang out with.”

“Anyone who ‘Samu decides to befriend will definitely be interesting enough for me”, she replies. “Unless you’re offering him an endless supply of free food, because that man will be friends for food -”

“I hear my name bein’ mentioned, and not in a good way.”

“Kaiyo’s bullyin’ you for once”, Atsumu crows, flapping his arms in delight. “Serve ya right.”

Osamu leaps at his brother, trapping him in a headlock and Kaiyo just laughs at the chaos, a merry, silvery sound that glistens in the light, making Atsumu completely surrender to his brother just so he can gaze at her, utterly besotted, a sailor lost to his siren’s call.

“You and Atsumu are very cute together”, you tell Kaiyo when she does drag you out for coffee on a weekend, Shoma cuddled on her lap like a content raccoon, stealing bites of her cake. “He seems like a good husband.”

“He does, doesn’t he”, she hums, sipping at her cup. “‘Samu and my brothers are pretty hard on him, but I think he’s pretty decent. We’re okay now, at least.”

Kaiyo calling their marriage decent seems a little like an understatement. Atsumu dances attention on her constantly, doling out sappy nicknames without shame - the light of his eyes, his lodestar, all of which both she and Osamu dissolve into laughter over. On Kaiyo’s part, she doles out affection and light teasing to Atsumu in equal parts, offering kisses whilst simultaneously poking fun at his antics. It’s clear they work as a team, taking turns pop by Onigiri Miya to pick up their children from Osamu’s care.

To love and be loved is such a beautiful, rare thing.

You’ve hardly seen it in your parents’ own marriage. Sharing a bed, speaking to each other only about the restaurant, pouring every waking hour into the business instead of each other - you’re pretty sure that does not qualify as a healthy, loving marriage. Perhaps, perhaps you might’ve been more interested in going out to find happiness with a partner of your own if you had Kaiyo and Atsumu as a role model instead.

It’s funny though, because Osamu doesn’t seem to think so, scoffing. “You wouldn’t think so if you’d seen them together about a decade ago”, he says. “‘Tsumu’s a twat, and Kaiyo has a bad habit of listening to her marshmallow of a heart too much. It’s a miracle their kids have turned out somewhat sane.”

You’ve been around both Miya children from time to time, and they definitely do not strike you as completely normal. Shino’s loud like her father, who just seems to egg her on, taking pride in everything she does, whether volleyball related or not (look, did you hear Shin-chan actually PASSED English this semester? She’s got her brains from her ma, that’s f’sure) and it’s uncanny to be around Shoma, because a five year old shouldn’t be so quiet and serious, his watchful eyes following you around the restaurant as you teach Osamu the finer tricks to slicing and dicing fish, confusing you to no end.

“Could you show me that again?” Osamu says, tongue sticking out in concentration as you show him the techniques your father taught you to score fish.

You reach over to shift his grip on his knife. “You need to cut through the flesh more quickly”, you instruct, but obligingly give another demonstration again.

There’s a soft tug to the leg of your jeans.

You look down to find Shoma bouncing on his heels, not much taller than your knees. Osamu just chuckles and lifts him up to a stool. “You need to talk so people actually know what you want”, he admonishes his nephew gently, the little boy gesturing at the knife.

“Wanna try”, Shoma says, cheeks pink, insistent on being included.

“You can also try sayin’ please and thank you”, Osamu adds.

“Please and thank you”, the little boy parrots, gazing intently at the knife.

There’s a frisson of uneasiness when Osamu reassures you that it’s fine to let the little boy try, handing the full chef’s knife over to him with just a reminder not to chop your finger off, Sho-chan, your ma’ll kick my ass. He’s your age when you started helping around the store, resentful at being torn from the playground, from being separate from your friends.

But Miya Shoma clearly is eager to learn his uncle’s trade of his own volition, and handles the knife with all the concentration you’d expect of a child thrice his age, so you remind yourself he isn’t you. He has a choice. He isn’t forced to be in the kitchen or be ordered to go to bed without dinner. He’s clearly happy to be in his uncle’s kitchen where he’s loved and pampered with all the snacks and cuddles his little heart might desire.

He is not you.

(the ghosts that haunt you start to fade, melting away from the firelight)

“You’re good with kids”, you hum when Shoma produces neat, even slices of salmon, astonishing you but not his proud uncle, who fistbumps him and takes pictures for his adoring parents.

“Shin-chan practically grew up in the store cos ‘Tsumu was off chasing sporting glory, and Sho-chan likes hangin’ around here more than at daycare cos there’s more food and people going around. And they’re good kids anyway, so it’s no trouble to have them around”, Osamu says off-hand, throwing together a quick snack of salmon and rice for Shoma, evidently hungry from the way he’s tugging at his uncle’s sleeve.

A tight knit family then, you conclude, with nary a crack to be found between them. You watch as Atsumu takes turns with Kaiyo to visit the store everyday to pick up Shoma, Shino in tow after volleyball practice, the little family gathering together some weekday nights to share a late dinner with Osamu who tries to pretend he resents his twin’s presence by telling him his onigiris were definitely not made with love while surreptitiously presenting Kaiyo with extras for tomorrow, cos ‘Tsumu has a game and he always performs better with some fatty tuna inside of him. The brothers heckle each other, tease Kaiyo and let the children run riot all over the shop.

Osamu keeps trying to corner Kaiyo before she drags you out for meals, though you somehow suspect he comes off the worse in each encounter, slinking back to the kitchen as she carries you off triumphantly, a hint of her husband’s trademark smirk firmly on her face.

“Don’t let Kaiyo talk you into nonsense, yeah?” - is all Osamu says when you ask him what exactly is going on. Atsumu only shrugs, but looks as if butter won’t melt in his mouth when he motions to you that he doesn’t know anything, though he also tells you to blink twice if you’re bein’ forced into anythin’, yeah?

Which really does NOT give you any confidence or comfort, but you do like Kaiyo, and you can’t discern any wisp of meanness or malice about her.

“‘Samu’s just concerned that I’m bullying you - but I’m not, am I?” Kaiyo protests when you ask her about it.

Far from it, you assure her - because it’s true, she’s warm and funny and generous and tells you funny little anecdotes about her family (Shoma swallowed a fish bone when we were visiting ‘Tsumu in Tokyo, so we had to rush him to office, but the worst part of it all was that ‘Tsumu somehow got it into his head that it’d be a good idea to dump Shino on Ushiwaka his CAPTAIN who was about to go on a blind date) and colleagues (they were having an impromptu shuffleboard party after audit season with staples and a broom! Which is fun and all but what if a client walked past?! Those idiots - though I won the tournament anyway HA).

If this is what a friendship is like, you decide you really quite like it.

Speaking of friends - you seem to have another candidate waiting in line.

“Are you hungry, Kombu-chan?”

The cat meows at you in response. It’s a silly question, you admit, since she’s polished off the usual tuna can and dried food you’ve taken to feeding her after each shift with feline aplomb, though you can’t figure out why she’s still following you from work. The ugly green of your uniform is distinctive in the sea of dull blue and brown and grey and black in a city of suits, so perhaps she’s just blindly following familiarity, but it turns out that she’s just intent on following you home.

Your mother would have screamed the house down if a cat or any animal for that matter even dared to darken the doorway of her immaculately kept apartment, but she’s not here to protest, even if her bones are probably rattling in its urn right now. But it’s your home now, three bedrooms too large for a single occupant, so what’s another to you?

Just chalk it up to another instance of the universe sending a soul your way.

“You’re probably lonely then”, you say to her as she roosts on your sofa, imperiously surveying her new kingdom. Like me, you’d wanted to add, the words on the very tip of your tongue, but you don’t say them because it’s not true, at least not any more.

“I don’t know how to take care of a cat”, you pronounce over the phone to Osamu. “But I have a cat now.”

“Congrats”, he says dryly over the commotion of people calling out for more onigiris, the crackle and sizzle of the grill. “Go google what to do.”

But he does turn up at your place that night with cat litter and a tray and a feeding bowl before crouching before Kombu-chan to solemnly greet her, offering her highness his lowly fingers to sniff at before she decides him worthy enough to be her temporary throne.

“She likes you! You’re her friend now!” you clap your hands, laughing when he complains about not being able to get up and pee.

You know Kombu–chan’s latched on to Osamu because he feeds her on the sly, bringing her bits of fish from the restaurant when he pops by to bring you food, when he tells you that walking you home from the combini is just part of a much needed break from the restaurant. And now it’s his turn to fall head over heels for the cat, popping over with treats as an excuse to see her, snorting when she bats at his hands to signal her displeasure that he’s not brought more treats.

“We’re friends now, I guess”, he answers, but you can tell he’s only feigning reluctance from the way he coos and boops his nose against Kombu-chan’s pink, pert one.

The universe knows what it’s doing, you decide. Kombu-chan with all her funny little habits of following you about your morning ablutions, sunbathing on the window ledge with one eye open to watch the parrot in your neighbour’s home - it all brings you such quiet joy. Her fur is soft, you discover, when she deigns to allow you to pat her, and she purrs, the noise rumbling through your body as she treats your belly as her personal heating pad.

She’s the last class you take in unlearning your lessons in loneliness.

Your heart is frozen beneath layers and layers of deep snow, tucked away behind snowbanks, but without you realising it, it starts to melt from the warmth that actual human (or feline) connection brings you, sweeping aside the blankets of white you’ve chosen to swaddle yourself in. Icy rivers thaw out into a rushing stream, icicles fall from the trees.

wake up dear heart, it’s almost spring.

Now there’s someone to greet tadaima to when you kick off your shoes in the genkan, chat with as you whip up a meal for yourself (there was the meanest customer today who kept trying to trick me into giving him more change), someone to cuddle with on cool nights. And though you’ve never dared to ask life for too much, you’ve learnt to be greedy, you want to ask for a little more. You want someone to respond with okaerie instead of a meow, someone to trade stories about with his bad day (ridiculous customers complaining about onigiris having too much rice, perhaps), something a little larger and broader to cuddle with on cool nights.

One step at a time.

You’ve only just tasted sunshine for the first time in years, you need to build up your strength and stamina for the long journey forward. But over a third beer and the umpteenth plate of fried chicken Kaiyo ordered, after hearing about the family trip back to the Miya ancestral home in Hyogo that she has planned for Obon, you admit in between a drunken ramble about how thankful you are for her friendship, that you don’t have any family yourself, and that sometimes, despite being used to being alone, you wish for the universe to take pity on you and send someone your way.

In your drunken fog, you recall being thankful that she doesn’t patronise you with her pity, letting yourself be pulled into a tight hug, murmuring platitudes that you don’t quite remember before she calls it a night and flags a cab to send you home. The next time you see her, however, she ambushes you with apologies that - she’d invite you to join them on their trip, “but we’re visiting Atsumu’s witch of a grandmother, and I wouldn’t wish her upon anyone”, Kaiyo explains apologetically.

“I was just being silly”, you frantically say, trying to explain that you weren’t trying to garner any sympathy or an invite to their family outings. You’re a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, and you curse your loose tongue. “I would never - I mean, please! It’s your family holiday, I have Kombu-chan now! Please don’t worry about me - please enjoy your trip! I’m sure it’ll be nice, despite um - the grandmother in law.”

Inspiration seems to strike Kaiyo, and she stares at you with an irrepressible spark in her eyes.

“Actually”, she says, tapping briskly on her phone, “if you do have a week off in fall, sometime in late September, you should join all of us on our trip to Hyogo! My best friend - and Atsumu’s high school captain - they’re married, I set them up, y’see - anyway, they always invite all their close friends up to stay on their farm, they have a guesthouse that’ll house the lot of us, and you should join us! Keep ‘Samu company, we always joke that he should bring a friend.”

“I couldn’t possibly”, you try to dissuade her, but she refuses to hear a no for an answer, proving to be as obstinate as her son - yet another thing he inherits from her ma, Atsumu laughs when you tell him about Shoma’s progress as your little kitchen helper, and his wife’s bullheaded insistence to drag you along for the trip.

“Just go along with it”, he says. “Enjoy the free trip! Who knows what it might bring.”

So you pack your bags for a brief weekend trip and arrange for a cat sitter for Kombu-chan (thankfully, your next door neighbour has a fondness for cats) as the heat of August finally wanes and cools into September, the slow burn of the trees from green into simmering shades of yellow and gold, the world catching fire.

a/n: just some slice of life fluff, hope y’all enjoy it!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu #miya osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n #osamu x you #inarizaki #miya atsumu #haikyuu romance #haikyuu fluff #storm chaser universe #set fire to your heart

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uwusenpaiuwu · 3 years ago

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Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

#mikey x male reader #sano manjiro x male reader #sano manjirou x male reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjirou #sano manjiro #manjiro sano #manjirou sano #i tried #im so sorry #pls dont cancel me #PSA: don't masturbate in the same room as baji

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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

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the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

#endeavor smut #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #enji todoroki x reader #enji smut

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the-last-rat-standing · 2 years ago

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My MIL is a HUGE NCIS fan, though her interest has waned as the seasons past 10 have gone on. I mean, she knows the characters names and their ‘lives’ more than she knows about her grandchildren. (In her defense, she has a LOT of grandkids.) She has seen S1-S8 episodes -no word of a lie- at least 10 times each. It’s her comfort show that she puts on in the background. She’s still not over Kate dying. This is the kind of fan she is.

It just so happened that one of the channels was showing season 19 re-runs, and I know she’s only seen those once, because she’s pissed about Mark Harmon leaving. So I was curious to see if she’d watch them. She did, but she said something very interesting about the remaining Harmon episodes.

“I think he got really tired of the show. That’s just my opinion.”

To which I said, “You know, I didn’t want to say anything, because I know you’re a big Gibbs fan, but I agree.”

You can hear it in his voice. You can see it in his performance. Now, I’ll never accuse him of phoning it in, but it’s pretty obvious the spark is gone. The only time he looked truly happy was when he was acting with Pam. And maybe that’s what is the worst thing about how they treated his exit. Instead of letting him happily ride off into the sunset in season 18, they dragged him out another 4 episodes because they were afraid no one would tune in to the season 19 premiere if they knew he wasn’t going to be on it, and I think he felt obligated to the cast and crew to do it. Except those 4 episodes were some of the most ridiculous bits of storytelling this show has to offer.

I had only seen those episodes twice- once in real time, once to go over some of the ‘what the fuck???’ parts. Seeing them again, even in part (I just couldn’t convince myself to waste the time watching the full episodes), only reminded me of how ridiculous it all was. And how much of a let down those episodes were. I’ve beaten this horse to deal in other posts regarding the hole in the wall, the news announcement about Gibbs’ ‘death’, the pile of questions his up and leaving creates, but man, those things aren’t any better on a rewatch. I will say, one thing that really struck me that I hadn’t really noticed before was the way the writers used Pam Dawber’s appearance as this random sort of joke about Gibbs and relationships. There’s a huge chunk of an episode that is just the team wondering if Gibbs is banging Marcie. And I’m all, “Weren’t you the same characters who thought, SIX MONTHS AGO, that Gibbs and Jack had a thing?” I mean, I get the writers’ being unable to resist teasing the idea because -hur hur hur- they’re married in real life! Yeah, it’s lazy, but okay. But that’s something that would’ve worked between Sam Ryan and Jack Sloane. It doesn’t work when you’ve spent 3 years building a relationship between Gibbs and Jack, have them kiss in her last episode, and have basically have her leaving as the catalyst for Gibbs’ breakdown. It is a slap in the face to the hard work the actors put into it. (And to be fair, it’s like the writers are slapping themselves in the face, considering they were the ones who wrote the Slibbs arc.)

Rewatching those episodes, and I barely recognized Gibbs. They turned a sharp, driven character into this... doddering old man who doesn’t know how to eat in the presence of company. They turned a pillar of strength into a broken man. (Which would be fine if they were serious about talking about mental health, but they wouldn’t dare shine a spotlight on the dangers of writing a man as a Lone Wolf hero.) They left a man who found a family in the his work, alone in the middle of nowhere.

(As an aside, seeing Jimmy and Knight in these eps, knowing what we know now, is like second-hand future embarassment. I recently said they were the romantic equivalent of an unseasoned boiled chicken breast slapped between two pieces of Wonderbread, and I stand by that comparison. So very, very obviously pushed through because there are no other pairings the writers can work with. And I will never get over the fact we went from characters like Tony DiNozzo and Jethro Gibbs as the show’s romantic leads to... Jimmy fucking Palmer.)

The channel then went back to the earlier seasons, and it was like a relaxing exhale that cleansed everything we’d just seen. Hard to believe it’s the same show.

#ncis #mark harmon #leroy jethro gibbs

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salemwritesxx · 3 years ago

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𝓲𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭.

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌 𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

⇴ male reader [22, virgin] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: Bakugou is a 34 year old pro-hero. He had been single since reaching his thirties until one inexperienced, young pro-hero caught his attention a few months ago – [Your.name]. For the past six months [Your.name] and Katsuki have been dating and without knowing it, both of them are struggling with their feelings and emotions, until it all explodes eventually.

↣ rating: / ↣ warnings: Age Gap (12 years), older Bakugou (34), shy virgin reader, cute, sexual tension, sexual things implied

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Standing in the kitchen, you were setting the table while your eyes wandered to your boyfriend every now and then. Bakugou was in front of the oven, adding finishing touches to the dinner he had cooked, not really realizing you were looking at him.

With a small gulp you hastily turned your head again and stared onto one of the plates, your heart racing and blood rushing down south – just by looking. Though, who could really blame you? Katsuki was, despite your age gap, so fucking beautiful and handsome, it was hard for you to keep your cool around him. It also didn’t help that you hadn’t had any sexual experience yet. Thus, you were even more sensitive to… simply everything.

“No! Think about something gross!”, you yelled inside your head, because one glance to your boyfriend made your stomach cramp with all the happy, fluffy feelings that were rushing through your body. (Together with the very horny, very desperate feelings that made their way down south.)

“[Your.name]?”, Bakugou suddenly called your name and touched your shoulder, hence a yelp escaped your lips. You were way too caught up in your own thoughts.

“K-Katsuki-san!”, you stammered, an instant jolt wandering down in your lower abdomen making you gulp. He was so close, smelled so nice, looked so sexy, the way his plush lips looked so soft, his muscles from all the hard work, his pecs and yet the small waist and just-

“Are you okay, [Your.name]? You’ve been silent for a while…”

“No!”, your voice went high-pitched, “I am completely fine!”

With a raised brow, Bakugou looked at you, the pro-hero not really convinced. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know, but your weird behavior worried him. He didn’t want to show or say it, but he was insecure.

“Okay… Dinner’s ready soon.”

“Okay! Thank you, Katsuki-san!”, with that, you quickly turned around and almost fled into the bathroom.

He wondered if you felt awkward due to the age gap.

Biting his lip, he also turned back to the oven. Since he was already 34, Katsuki hadn’t even wanted to date you in the beginning, despite there being obvious sparks between you. But, having a 12 year age gap was not something that could be easily overlooked – at least that’s what he thought in the beginning. Now, he was very comfortable with you, however, some things started to feel a little… iffy.

You had been dating for almost half a year at that point and there had been NOTHING sexual happening between you two. By now, he was rather insecure and wondered if you just simply didn’t find him attractive or too old. But then again, you were the one who was persistent until he gave in to try and date you. So why was it so different now, a few months later? Did you not like him anymore?

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to initiate things. Fuck, he hadn’t had sex in like four years after his last relationship ended horribly and he needed time to be ready again. So to be dating and not have sex was bizarre to him, because if you would just try, he would willingly jump you any second – but seeing you so passive, he worried he would overstep a boundary if he dared to try something. You were so much younger after all.

“Ugh! I fucking hate this. Relationships are way too fucking hard.”, he thought while quietly sighing.

It all came crashing down a few days later.

Bakugou was freshly out of the shower and still drying himself, when he heard his apartment door being opened and your voice calling for him.

“Katsuki-san? I’m sorry for the intrusion, my friend just got me two tickets to-“, you said excitedly while walking into his home, however, stopped immediately when he came around the corner with a mere, short towel around his hips.

“Two tickets?”, he said so casually, not realizing how hard it was for you to stay calm as all your blood was rushing south.

“No- I- uh- uhm! I-“, you helplessly stuttered before turning around, literally about to just run away, when Bakugou, however, decided enough was enough.

And thus, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from fleeing yet again.

“Wait! What’s the fucking problem?!”

“No- it’s nothing, I just-“

“Kiss me!”, Katsuki then suddenly demanded, catching you off-guard.

You swore you were about to explode, but in the end, you complied and nodded. You WANTED to touch and kiss him, you were just too shy to act upon your pent up horny feelings. So once you stepped closer again, you leaned down to just peck his lips.

And Bakugou seriously thought you wanted to make fun of him. Thus, he grabbed your neck and pulled you down further, this time however kissing you fully on the mouth – hot, passionate and fiery. Thankfully, you immediately kissed him back and it truly seemed like you had relaxed a bit.

“Why don’t you stay the night, [Your.name]?”, he finally asked after pulling back, panting a little. However, he did not think your reaction would be so strong when you stepped back immediately.

“No, I can’t- I, Katsuki-san- and… uhm-“

And that’s when Bakugou simply snapped. Being rejected was one thing, but being rejected from the one who you were dating was definitely hurtful on another level.

“What’s your fucking problem, [Your.name]?! If you don’t like me anymore, just say it and LEAVE. I am done putting up with your shit. I am too fucking old for that!”, he was furious and yelled, before turning around and walking into the living room.

Now you’ve done it.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you realized how stupid you had been acting the last couple of months, ever since that desperate horny feeling was taking over you.

“No! Wait- Katsuki-san!”, you hastily ran after him, “That’s not it at all! I really, really like you-“

“Oh really?!”, Bakugou interrupted you.

“Fuck, [Your.name], you won’t even fucking kiss me properly, do you REALLY think I am believing you??? Don’t waste our time and just be straightforward and find someone else who suits you better, huh?”

“Katsuki-san, no! That’s not it! I swear it’s not you, it’s-“

“Then what the fuck is it!?!?”

“I am a virgin!”, you then suddenly blurted out, cheeks flaming hot.

“Oh…”

“And you’re so hot and amazing and I don’t want to disappoint you with my non-existing skills and you’re probably weirded out because what 22 year old is a virgin nowadays, you know? Hahaha aha.. so-“, though before you could ramble on more and embarrassingly laugh at yourself, a hand on your cheek and soft lips on yours suddenly stopped you.

Once more, you melted into the kisses, your hands awkwardly placing themselves on his exposed waist. His bare skin underneath your fingertips felt absolutely amazing, you would probably short circuit if you were to touch him deeper.

“You’re so stupid and cute…”, Katsuki then whispered, all his worries and insecurities falling off his shoulders.

“You’re not… disappointed, Katsuki-san?”, you sheepishly mumbled.

“Why would I? I don’t fucking care. I was just… worried. Like you regretted asking me out and you weren’t into this anymore.”, now he was slightly looking to the other side, a soft pinkish hue on his cheeks.

“NO! I like you so much, Katsuki-san!”

Catching him off guard you suddenly hugged him so passionately you both stumbled back a bit and Bakugou’s little towel loosened and eventually fell to the floor. Which you immediately noticed due to the fabric landing on your feet.

“Oh…”

Though before you could pull back in embarrassment, Bakugou had cupped your face and kissed you – quick and soft, a mere peck really. But it made you stop in your erratic movement, even if your cheeks were warm and your [eye.color] eyes shimmered with embarrassment.

“So… how do you feel? Wanna stop running and finally try?”

“YES!”, the way your voice cracked and was all high-pitched was enough for Bakugou to grin widely – you were so cute.

“Good, because I was so fucking close to just jumping you in the next days.”, and with that, Katsuki pulled you down again, lips colliding and tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

Your raging hormones were all over the place, but now that Bakugou knew, it was easier to let loose and not feel like you had to catch up to him. Because in the end, it was impossible to catch up on a 12 year old age gap, but at least today you could embark on your sexual journey filled with lots of love and lust.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I just find shy reader and older baku so cute. idk if I will write the nsfw to this but I am kinda wanting to… see how experienced baku just completely wrecks yn hmmm so yeah let me know what you think!

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bnha x male reader #bottom bakugou #older bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #shy reader #virgin reader #male reader insert

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