#also not happy about the task bar thing like i hope that will be fixed soon and quickly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strlingsav · 2 years ago

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Hi! Congratulations on another wonderful piece, I thoroughly enjoyed Drive and reread it 5 times now🥰🥹

please feel free to ignore this request, but I'm so painfully addicted to your writing style (seriously you are my top favorite creator along with stararchangel) I would love to see your take on this, I have 2 ideas-

1) female reader x Simon Riley, she's civilian, and basically how they meet is somewhere random (like grocery store?) and he, a cold hardened killer, immediately melts and thinks she's the most beautiful piece of art he's ever seen. Now, he doesnt immediately approach her bc he's like, scared or dumbstruck, or maybe just doesn't wanna bother her? But he can either follow her out of the vicinity to find out where she resides/more about her (stalker lowkey ik) or maybe they can meet a second time, same place, but she accidentally bumps into him? Then they get to talking, he wants to pursue her etc AND LOTS OF SMUT OMG YOUR SMUT IS PEAK! I did read something similar from someone else, I think they did könig though, or even just another civilian female x ghost and he is just dumbfounded thinking she's the most beautiful things ever man

2) female reader x ghost, where she's like an insanely skilled killer, perfect sniper executions, can rip dude's faces off per say and is super fast and skilled in some fighting style like jujitsu, easily knock people off their feet ok? And basically she has a reputation for being excellent at her craft and SUPER well known not just within the army or whatever in the US but overseas like in the Middle East and Japan and Russia and shit man idk (honestly I was watching Hunter x Hunter thinking about the flesh collector girl that Kurapika had to bodyguard for, so what if the fReader was known too for like selling shit on the black market? And being the best of the best medic, head Doctor/ surgeon type shit), then she joins task force 141 and they see all her badass-ness in action and how she just fucks dudes up and gets head shots from crazy far sniper locations and fixes up awful injuries like it's nothing and yea then ghost also falls in love w her and LOTS OF SMUT AGAIN pls

Thank you SO MUCH FOR READING! 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽😭

Thank you so so much for the kind words and for reading!! (You're so sweet omg) I'm so happy you enjoy it.

This'll have to be a two-parter for both requests, but here's your first!! Second will come later.

Thank you again, I hope you enjoy 🤍

Afar

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon's enamoured with you.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You were hesitant about your friends' choice to meet for drinks at a dive-bar downtown. You knew the place; a rustic establishment tucked into a quiet corner of the city. It was well known for the crowd it attracted: blue-collar workers, bikers and the like. You'd never stepped foot inside, it's outward appearance alone was daunting. It was a historic monument in the city, given away by the dying neon of the 'open' sign and weathered letters above the entrance.

It was filled with a haze of cigarette smoke and the smell of whiskey and beer. Neon lights plastered on the walls, dated decor with posters of vintage cars and women- it certainly wasn't an obvious choice.

Your eyes shifted around the bar, classic-rock playing softly in the background, the sound of pool balls clacking against each other- it almost made you uncomfortable how much you stood out among the predominantly masculine crowd. You were still dressed in your office attire, and your friend was no different. She insisted it was a great place for drinks after work, and the men never bothered her.

You gave her the benefit of the doubt, sipping your beer slowly while she chatted about the newest developments in her love life. Your eyes met, adding a nod or a smile every so often, but you were on edge; your guard was up just in case.

Simon had seen you walk in.

His hand was clasped around the glass of bourbon, perched at the bar with tense shoulders. Another deployment finished meant he would spend most of his free time there, where people tended to mind their own, and didn't ask any questions. He liked the solitude, liked knowing that no one knew who he was- or cared.

He could drown out the flurry of thoughts and internal conflict with whiskey, focusing solely on the sweet hint of caramel, the bitterness of burning tobacco and melody of classic rock in the background. It was his sanctuary, the place he had no distractions, no obligations, only staring down the amber liquid in his glass, ice cubes pressing against his lips as he took a sip.

His attention was quickly grabbed by the bell above the door, ringing just loud enough to make his head turn. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment, before you turned back to the woman you were with.

He certainly hadn't expected to find himself giving you a second look. He didn't consider himself to be the kind of man that stared at attractive women. His composure had cracked just a bit though, enough to let his gaze follow you through the bar as you took a seat within his view.

He was quickly enamoured, something that hadn't happened to him before- aside from the early years of puberty, and it terrified him. How you walked in, brushing your hair from your face, the way your hips swayed when you walked- you'd already more than caught his attention.

He swallowed, harshly. He took another sip of his drink, a deep breath in as he finished the last of it. Maybe it was a fleeting attraction, maybe he was just sexually frustrated, gratifying it with the first woman he saw. As he peered over his shoulder, watching you lean forward, smile softly- fuck, if it didn't make his stomach lurch. He wanted to know you.

Your pencil skirt more than complemented your body, and he'd noticed. The silk blouse that fit just right around the peak of your breasts- he stared forward, shutting his eyes as he tried to shake you from his mind.

He couldn't help it, though. Watching you from his periphery, beer in hand as you crossed your legs, he heard you laugh. He forced himself to lean over his drink, tune out your conversation. It wasn't right to listen, wasn't right to think about a woman, a stranger, the way he was.

But the sound of your voice carried, and he could practically taste the shampoo in your hair, the fading scent of perfume. He wondered if all of you was as sweet as you smelled. As an even nastier thought crossed his mind, what he'd do to have your body in his hands, his nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket as he slid from his stool, marching outside. He didn't allow himself to look back, didn't want to be the one to make you uncomfortable. He was sure you were used to being leered at- how couldn't you be?

He was transfixed with the shape of your lips, the way your eyes crinkled at the edges when you laughed, how you'd lick your lips after a swig of beer. It was too much- all too much for him to handle while a few drinks in, and he refused to be the asshole that hit on you in a bar. He knew he treasured the peace and quiet, he imagined you did too.

He stepped outside, the cool night air on his skin helped drop his rising temperature, bringing him back to reality. The lit cigarette in his hand glowed as he sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to throw it away and stalk back inside to you. He wondered whether you had a boyfriend, perhaps a husband- someone you'd go home to that would never know just how lucky he is. Who wouldn't worship you the way he knew he could, treat you the way he would. Make you feel the way he would. He clenched his jaw, already despising the bastard.

His thoughts got ahead of him, and his cigarette was already burned to the filter before he realized he'd been stewing outside for at least ten minutes. He flicked it from his fingers, watching it sizzle out on the pavement. He cleared his throat, turning to open the door when you appeared on the other side.

His breath caught in his chest. Up close, he could see the true curves of your cheekbones, the allure of your lips, the sparkle in your eye as he interrupted the conversation with your friend. He could even smell you better, and it hit him like a wall. His heart pounded in his ears, aching to say something-anything, but he refused to fall victim to his inflated desires. He didn't know if you'd reciprocate it, anyway.

You stopped and stared, eyes meeting his as he stepped out of the way, holding the door for the two of you.

"Thank you," You gave him a small smile, your eyes still on his even as you were clear of the door.

He was tall- and big. A mass of muscle that caught your eye. His eyes were dark, plagued with some sort of stress as his brows furrowed. You noticed the way his gaze trailed down your body, and felt the twinge of heat rise up your chest and neck.

He had short hair, brunet, disheveled. He was handsome. A crooked nose, defined cheekbones and jaw, a hint of stubble across his face.

You turned back, taking one last look as the two of you made your way to the taxi, waiting on the curb.

The second time your friend invited you out, you'd had the weekend off. Free time was never a guarantee in your line of work. A demanding boss, deadlines, company meetings; usually your weekends were filled with errands. She'd caught you at a good time, and asked if you liked the bar she took you to.

So you ventured out again, happy to be free of your office clothes, and took a seat in the same booth. This time, you were feeling less on edge, more excited to be out, enjoying yourself. Your friend brought her current girlfriend- one you'd met only once before, and weren't sure how many more times you'd see her.

"I'll get us a round," You said, setting your hands on the table as you stood up.

"If you insist," Your friend grinned, watching you with a smirk, her arm over her girlfriend's shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, "You're paying next."

She didn't say anything, but you kept your eyes on her with a playful glare as you walked off to the bar.

You stopped at the bar, and stood on your toes, trying to catch the attention of the bartender who had his back turned polishing glasses.

Simon couldn't believe he was seeing you again. You'd been on his mind since he last saw you, flashes of your lips, your eyes distracting him from everyday tasks. He even took it a step further to imagine what you felt like beneath him, the way you'd say his name as you came around him. He spent most nights in a sweat, desperately chasing relief. It didn't work. He didn't think it ever would.

He turned his head ever so slightly, and you met his eyes.

"Hi," You said softly, a bashful smile over your face as you realized it was the same good-looking man that held the door for you.

He could feel his heart beat just a bit faster- his eyes trailing over your face.

"Y'alright?" He asked.

His voice was deep, raspy, British. You licked your lips.

"Just trying to order some drinks," You said. "I don't think it'll be happening anytime soon."

He looked over at the bartender.

"Oi, mate," He called, catching his attention.

"Thanks," You said.

You were inches from him, your hip nearly touching his arm, and he noticed. He could feel it, feel the heat emanating off of you, smell that same delicious fucking smell that drove him insane. This time, you were in a shirt that showed a tease of cleavage and tight jeans that clung to every curve and detail of your body. As he leaned back ever so slightly, taking in the sight of your ass, he let out a soft breath.

"You're the guy that held the door for me a couple weekends ago, right?"

You were waiting for the bartender to make your drinks, and couldn't help but strike up a conversation with him. Your eyes moved to his fingers, wrapped around the glass, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

He definitely works with his hands, you thought. He did something that formed callouses along the crown of his palms and helped keep the obvious tone of his arms. Construction, maybe?

"Yeah," He nodded, taking a sip of his drink. You watched intently, his lips plush and inviting, wet with liquor.

"That was my first time being here," You looked away, feeling intimidated by his gaze.

He was staring so intensely, you almost felt suffocated. But you liked it. Liked the way it made you feel, liked how he shifted in his seat to face you, how you could imagine your legs over his broad shoulders.

"You like it?" He asked, raising a brow.

"It's not bad," You smiled. You just couldn't stop fucking smiling. "Company's good and the people seem nice enough."

"You with your friends?"

You nodded. "And you?"

"I like drinkin' alone."

You tried to hide the frown that crossed your face.

"But I don't mind talkin' to you."

He was so damn charming- too charming. He was definitely good at sweet-talking. Your cheeks burned, wondering what else he was good at.

"That's sweet," You grinned, your hand landing on his arm.

He could've fucked you then and there, your hand on his arm lit up his entire body. He felt himself harden under the restraints of his jeans. He'd never gotten hard from a woman touching his arm before, and he wondered when he became so goddamn pathetic. He didn't mind it though, not if you kept talking and smiling like you were.

You introduced yourself, holding your hand out for him to shake. He seemed entertained by the idea, a small smile lifting his lips as his hand engulfed yours. He knew your skin would be soft, knew you'd have a light touch.

"Simon," He nodded. "Don't let me keep you from your friends."

"I think they're more than okay." You looked over your shoulder at the two of them, kissing in the booth, not paying a sliver of attention to anyone else. "Let me just drop these off for them," You took the drinks off the counter.

You came back with a purpose, a new mission for the evening; taking him back to your place, or his- whichever was closest. You had no idea he was thinking the exact same thing.

You and Simon continued your conversation, leading to the revelation that he was in the army, a soldier. If it was even possible, it turned you on even more.

"I work in an office," You said, stirring your drink with the thin, black stir-stick. "Nothing as interesting as that."

"I remember your blouse- that skirt you had on," He looked at you, a grin playing at his lips.

"You remember my outfit?" You giggled.

He nodded, "Couldn't forget it," He admitted, hoping it wouldn't scare you off.

"Didn't know I had that much influence," You raised your brows. "You should've introduced yourself then. We could've been having this conversation weeks ago."

"Didn't want to disturb you," He said, his palm pressing flat along your thigh. Your eyes drifted to the source of warmth on your leg, then looked back at him. "M'alright with where we are now, though."

"That's a shame," You sighed, now two cocktails deep, and undeniably aroused. He waited, brows furrowing at your words. "Think we'd be better off at my place."

He looked shocked, not sure how to proceed- whether it would be okay for him to accept, or make him appear too eager. But Christ, if he wasn't already burning up, desperate to get you undressed, kissing every inch of your body until you begged for him. He couldn't resist.

"Y'might be right," He drawled, his palm trailing further up your thigh, his thumb resting in the crease of your thigh and hip.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

He grinned, standing up from his seat, dropping a wad of cash on the bar.

"'M ready when you are, sweetheart."

He drove a new pickup truck, opening the door for you to step in. You sat comfortably, trying to restrain yourself as much as possible, but as he reached out to turn on the heat and you caught sight of the tattoos that engulfed his arm, you sighed deeply.

You were already aching, dying for a taste, anything to sate the throbbing in your abdomen. You could feel the wetness dripping from you, and you were sure you'd already soaked a spot on your panties.

When he set his palm on your thigh again, you exhaled, setting your hand overtop his. His hands were rough, worn; and you couldn't wait to feel them against your bare skin. You glided his hand carefully, slowly, up your leg, urging him to feel you, touch you.

"You can touch me, Simon," You whispered.

He looked over, his eyes narrowing as you leaned back, spreading your thighs a bit.

"I want you to touch me."

"Christ," He muttered, his fingers pressing against your pussy from over your jeans.

The pressure pushed the seam into your clit, and you let out a soft sigh. He watched with wide eyes, heavy breathing as he moved his fingers in small circles, forcing your jeans against you. You writhed under the pressure, whimpering softly, clinging to his wrist with an iron grip.

He listened to the sounds you made, trying not to close his eyes and savour it, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road. If that was all it took to have those sounds of pleasure coming from your lips, he couldn't imagine what you'd sound like when he was inside you. He could hardly wait to show you the attention you deserved, make you cum endlessly, beg for his cock.

The trip to your house wasn't long, and when you entered the apartment, he had you pressed against the entryway. His hand on your waist, the other above your head, you stared into his eyes.

"Been dyin' t'get my hands on you since I first saw you," He whispered, goosebumps exploding over the surface of your skin.

"You shouldn't have waited," You said back, your face tilting up to his.

His hand left your waist, his thumb running across your bottom lip as he stood up straight. Letting out a heavy sigh, he grabbed your hips and yanked your pelvis flush with his.

"You're a fuckin' tease," He breathed.

He pressed his lips against yours, already a hungry and devoted action. Your lips felt like velvet, you tasted like a sweet fruit- cranberries, from your vodka-cran. He moaned softly, cherishing the feeling of your mouth against his, your hands coming to his face, delicately holding him in place.

He loved the way he made you look so small, so innocent against his larger frame. He'd have an easy time moulding you into positions, right where he wanted you. You felt so good, pressed against him, your soft little whimpers spurring him on. He introduced his tongue, gliding it against yours with no hesitation, tasting you.

"Show me your room," He said, breathless as he pulled away.

He was slow in his movements, his tall frame circling you like prey. He took a seat on the edge of your bed, thighs spread as he leaned forward. His fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, rubbing it between his fingers.

"Take it off for me, sweetheart," His raspy voice was low, eyes unflinching as he watched you. "Nice n' slow." His elbows rested on his thighs as he watched you.

Your hands went to the hem, lifting it off your waist and over your shoulders. You unbuttoned your jeans, too, sliding them down your thighs and stepping out of them. You stood in your bra and panties before him, feeling a bit nervous with his unfaltering gaze, his eyes taking in every inch.

He was practically eating you alive. He trailed up and down your form, a strangled sigh coming from him as he watched your breasts push against your bra, thong clinging to you nicely with the wetness between your thighs. He couldn't believe he'd gotten you in his grasp, so willing and ready to do anything he asked. It made his cold heart melt, watching the way your hip shifted nervously.

"C'mere," He said, leaning back.

Your feet pushed forward, standing before him, and he grabbed your hips as he tugged you onto his lap. He let his hands reach around to sit on your ass, exhaling, nearly exploding with how good you felt in his hands. Such silky skin, he couldn't help but let his hands roam.

"Pretty little thing you are," He whispered against your throat, his nose nuzzled against your chin.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, his tongue sticking out to lick a short strip over your skin. He took his time, lips exploring your neck.

"Simon," You sighed, hands reaching for his forearms. "Please." You wanted him to touch you already, your pussy was aching from being so aroused.

"I'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart," Was his response.

You shivered, his hands running up and down your back, reaching for your ass. You arched your back, chest flush against his. He wanted to memorize every curve, learn you inside and out until he could blindly please you.

"Take off my shirt for me."

You obeyed, nimble fingers working quickly to unbutton his shirt, eyes widening as you pulled it open. His chest was muscular, and your eyes trailed down to his abs, scars scattered over his torso. There was a trail of coarse hair that disappeared into his jeans. You felt your pussy clench, a fire that was already raging in your womb exploded tenfold.

You tugged the shirt off his shoulders, breath hitting his chest as you sighed, nearly riding his lap.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. You moaned, exhaling harshly through your nose as his tongue slid inside you mouth, gliding against yours. Your head went dizzy- intoxicated, drowning in the taste of his lips. You never wanted to pull away and your fingers reached his jaw as you leaned into him, hunger in your kiss.

Your hands then ran down his chest, over the hard muscles on his torso. He grunted softly, his body jerking as you felt his shoulders and biceps.

His hands reached around, unclasping your bra. He let it drop, watching you pull your arms from the straps. His eyes flashed to your breasts, one hand reaching up to cup your breast. Your head fell back, the ache in your pussy only getting stronger as he massaged your breasts. His thumb grazed your nipple, making you gasp softly.

"So fuckin' beautiful," He groaned.

You lifted your head, eyes boring into his.

He leaned in again, licking your breast before he took your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around it before flicking over it. You gasped, fingers lifting to his hair.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," He pulled back, lips finding your neck in a passionate kiss. "Bet your cunt tastes even better."

You sighed aloud, your hips jumping against his crotch. His words sent a shiver of desire straight through you, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He lifted you up with ease, turning to settle you on the bed.

Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, his lips back on yours for a moment before he kissed down your neck. Travelling over your breasts, he left bruises on the soft flesh, moving to your stomach, then hip bones.

His fingers tugged at your panties, parting them from your body with a bit of resistance from your wet core, then slid them down your legs, discarding them on the floor.

"Fuck," He mumbled. "You're soaked," He growled.

His lips attached to your inner thigh, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Your fingers reached into his hair, exhaling as you waited, hardly able to contain the thrumming in your chest, your desperate writhing.

His tongue licked a stripe through your folds and your hips jumped when he ran over your clit. Softly exhaling, you squeezed your thighs together around his ears.

He groaned softly, doing it again to receive the same reaction. His tongue worked a bit harder now, moving in circles over your clit. You were already wet- he knew that well. He wanted to eat your pussy for his own pleasure. He listened intently to the beautiful moans from your lips, his cock hardening even more when your fingers tugged and pulled at his hair.

You let out a soft moan, fingers curling into his hair, tugging as he lapped generously. The sounds of your pussy on his tongue were vulgar- echoing around your room. You were writhing in his grasp, even as his hands came to your hip bones to steady you.

He slid a finger inside you, curling it up against the rough spot inside your pussy. Your chest lifted, panting as he continued the motion, tongue still on your clit.

"God- Simon," You croaked, shivering. He adored the way his name sounded from your mouth.

It didn't take long for your climax to near, having already been turned on for so long, you were just waiting for his touch. You shifted with restlessness, and when he added a second finger, you knew your release would come any moment.

"I'm almost there," You whispered, voice hoarse as your abdomen clenched down.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," He cooed, fingers still coaxing it out of you.

Your eyes rolled shut, pussy squeezing down as you came- hard. He didn't relent, pleasure coursing through you as he continued his movements. He could hardly move his fingers at a certain point, your pussy constricting around him.

"Fuckin' hell," He murmured, eyes watching your body as you came.

You sighed softly, finally recovering from your orgasm, and Simon stood to his feet, face wet with your cum.

He leaned forward, "You wanna taste yourself?"

Your body shivered, meeting him halfway, pressing your lips to his. You made an effort to find his tongue, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue; mostly bitter, a hint of sweetness.

He stood up, yanking the belt from his jeans. You gulped, eyes watching with anticipation.

"I want to feel you," You said.

"Go on, love."

You reached out, fingers undoing his button, then his zipper. You yanked his pants down over his thighs. His bulge in his briefs was larger than expected- much larger. You pulled his briefs down, met with his large cock. Your hands immediately reached out to feel him, and his head fell back.

He was so used to fucking his own hand, the skin of yours was like satin on his cock. He choked back a gasp.

"Yeah," He groaned. "Just like that sweetheart," He praised, watching you twist your wrist, hand running up and down his length. You sighed softly, hips rocking as you listened to him, burning desire as he praised you.

You shifted, thighs rubbing together to create friction on your clit.

"Can't wait anymore," He said. "Lie back."

You did as he said, and he crawled over you, kicking his jeans off. He grabbed your thighs, tugging them to his waist as he lined his cock up to your entrance, tip rubbing against your clit.

"Can I?"

"Yes," You breathed. "Please."

"I'll give you just what you deserve, sweetheart," He grunted, his cock sliding slowly into your pussy. He let out a long sigh, basking in the way your walls took him in, how easy it was to glide in against the natural lubrication.

You moaned, your pussy stretching to accommodate his large size. It was uncomfortable for a few moments, before he began thrusting his hips against you. He leaned down, head beside yours as he rounded his hips, nudging his cock deep inside. You were all moans, body no longer able to do anything but obey. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto him.

"Takin' this cock so well," He said in your ear. Your eyes nearly rolled in your skull, squeezing shut. "Gonna make you cum for me."

"Keep talking like that, please," You whispered, eyes opening to watch him.

He groaned, "Been wonderin' what you'd sound like on my cock."

"Oh my-" You couldn't even manage to get out another word, another coherent sentence, so you relied on his name. "Simon."

"Fuck," He groaned in your ear. "So fuckin' wet."

"So good," You breathed.

His hips drove into yours, his pelvis hitting your clit repeatedly. His thick cock massaged your walls and it was nearly too much. You arched your back, toes curling, thighs clenching around his waist.

His body pressed against yours, neck craned to look at you from beside your head, watching your lips part as you gasped for air; he wanted to etch the vision behind his eyes. Your skin was flushed, fingers clawing at his back, hand cradling his head against your neck. He was repeatedly burying himself inside you, massaging your clit at the same time, and you couldn't hold back.

"F-fuck," You moaned. "Fuck- Simon," You gasped, pussy clenching around him.

"You gonna cum for me?" He asked, his hand moving back to grip your thigh.

You choked out a 'yes' as he bottomed out inside you, tip pressing against your cervix. You felt the sparks of pleasure level out over your body, enveloping you in a full-fledged fire, every nerve lit up with pleasure.

Your chest met his, tensing as your orgasm made your body rigid. He didn't relent, though the way you held him so tightly and whispered his name made it increasingly difficult not to.

"Simon," You moaned, eyes widening as you looked at him, lips parted with pleasure. "So good, Simon."

He groaned, listening to your swollen lips call his name, his cock twitched inside you. Your small frame, innocent eyes, soft thighs wrapped around him while he stroked his cock in your tight, wet pussy; if he was a lesser man be would've finished inside you immediately without hesitation. But he wanted to experience it all for as long as he could.

"That's right, sweetheart," He rolled his hips again. "Fuck you feel good."

Your fingernails scraped down his back, his muscles flexing as he moved. He exhaled sharply. Your thighs were squeezing his waist, and his fingers were surely bruising the delicate skin, but you didn't care.

He devoured your moans with his lips, relishing the way you still groaned, even with his tongue in your mouth he could hear you. He could still feel you too, your sensitive pussy clenching around him every time he hit your clit.

"I want you to cum again," He said. "Let me make you cum again," He pleaded. He so desperately needed to see it again, needed to see you fall apart for him, call out for him.

"Don't stop," You said, pressing a kiss to his neck. It was desperate, an attempt to make him feel just as good as he had for you, and you kissed up his jaw when you heard a satisfied groan in his throat.

Your eyes rolled back, abdomen and pussy clenching as the tension in your stomach began to build again. It was unraveling quickly, crumbling when he praised you, talked to you, even looked at you.

"I'm-I'm close," You said, clinging to his shoulders. "Again."

He nearly laughed. "Yeah, love. Let it out, give it to me."

"Yes," You moaned, head thrown back. "Fuck yes."

Your climax wasn't far, another wave of pleasure pulling you under. You struggled for breath, your eyes squeezing shut, fingers digging into him.

He let out a short gasp, feeling exactly how tight you could hug his cock, and it sent him over the edge at nearly the same time.

"Where do you want it?" He asked, pulling out.

He was massaging his cock, and you took over, lowering yourself as he released over your breasts, thrusting forward in your hand.

"Fuuck," He drawled, seeing your breasts painted white with his cum.

You sat back, staring up at him. He leaned forward, kissing you softly.

"Definitely should've said something sooner," You teased.

"I've got you here now," He said, a small smile on his glowing face. "That's all I care about."

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #anon #anon request #request #strlingsavwrites #ask strlingsav

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softguarnere · 1 year ago

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I'm really happy right now because like i said i really love reading your works and i wasn't going to ask another writer if they can write an imagine for me 🥺 I'm an engineering student so can you write something like reader is a mechanical engineer in army and let's say there is a problem with weapons in Easy company so she is tasked with controlling and fixing the weapons. While there she hears the rumors about what Speirs did to Nazi POW's and begins to fear and disgust him because she is still a bit of humanist and this bothers Speirs because he has started to have feelings for the reader. I really like angsts with happy endings. I hope writing this is not a problem for you. Please don't force yourself and take care of yourself 💖🙏 (Also sorry for my shitty english i'm not a native speaker)

If You Strip Away the Myth From the Man

Ron Speirs x reader

A/N: Confession: I live in constant fear that I'm writing Speirs wrong. This was such a fun prompt, and I hope that I did it justice. (And don't worry about your English, Anon! It's very good, and I would be a hypocrite if I complained.) I hope you're also taking care of yourself, and I hope you like this 💕🕊️ This title comes from Heaven On Their Minds from Jesus Christ Superstar

(This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: language, mentions of war

Rumors, you’re starting to realize, move faster than anything else in the army. If orders and supplies could move as fast as rumors do, then maybe the war would have been over by Christmas the way that everyone kept claiming that it would be. Then you wouldn’t have spent those terribly cold days in Bastogne, freezing in the cold earth in between running from different locations, trying to adjust and fix various weapons whenever the army ordered you to do so.

But if not for that, then you wouldn’t have been brought here – to Easy Company in Haguenau.

It’s not the first time that you’ve visited this particular company. You’ve linked up with them before, briefly exchanged pleasantries with the men while you fix whatever problems they might be having with their weapons. Some of their faces have become recognizable, but their names have eluded you.

Until now.

With the end of the war so close at hand – allegedly; it’s all being said by the same people who claimed that the war would be over by Christmas – the army isn’t willing to risk anything going awry. That’s why they’ve assigned a munitions expert to every company for the foreseeable future. Which is fine by you. At least now you won’t be running to and fro with no clear sense of what might happen next. It seems to be fine with the men of Easy Company, too, seeing as they welcome you with open arms . . . And they certainly waste no time in letting you in on the company’s history and hearsay. Especially, it would seem, when it regards their new Captain.

“He wasn’t in charge the last time I paid you guys a visit,” you remark, nodding to the tall man walking by with purposeful strides.

“Who, Speirs?” One of the men – Sisk, you’re pretty sure by this point – clarifies. He lowers his voice, even though the captain in question is already out of earshot, having disappeared into one of the tattered building’s other rooms. “Yeah, if there’s one thing we like to do around here, it’s cycle through captains.”

The last person you can remember being in charge of Easy was Winters. He seemed like a fine man, and the men all seemed to like him. That was back in Holland. God, it feels like forever ago now. You tell Skinny as much.

He laughs. “You’re behind on the times. There were more after Winters. But Speirs has been one of the best we’ve had since him.”

“Yeah, especially after Dike,” another man – Liebgott – adds.

The funny guy – Luz, you remember – laughs. “There’s someone who set the bar real low.” Then, in a serious voice that you’ve rarely heard him use, “Speirs really has been good.”

The rest of the men who are hanging out in the supply room nod in agreement.

“Yeah, and he seems to like us really well. Doesn’t have to worry about keeping us in line,” someone else snickers. The men all laugh at that.

Okay, so there’s a joke there, you think. One that you’re not privy to. And the men must realize it too, because their smiles fall when they notice that you’re not laughing along with them.

“You haven’t heard?” Skinny asks. “The stories about Speirs, I mean.”

Rumors? Or stories? Either way, you haven’t heard much about Easy’s new captain, other than that he’s new and, apparently, there are stories about him. You shake your head.

Luz whistles. “Well then, (Y/L/N), you’ve got some catching up to do.”

. . .

One of the good things about your job is that you mostly stay around privates and NCOs. Officers only come to you if they have a question, and that’s a rarity. You don’t mind the officers of Easy. From what you’ve seen, they’re wonderful leaders. However, after hearing the stories about Speirs in the week or so since you’ve joined the company, you’re glad of an excuse not to be around him – a goal that is becoming harder by the day.

Speirs has been spending more time than usual among the privates and the NCOs. No one else seems to mind, if they notice, but your heart turns to a block of ice every time that you see him enter the room. For God’s sake, this man is a murderer, and they’re letting him walk around free? It’s one of the stranger things that you’ve experienced since joining up.

Maybe it’s because of what he did at Foy. Running headfirst into danger to link two companies and then running back? It doesn’t even seem possible. That newest story seems to be what the men of Easy Company are most focused on. Impressive, yes, but you can’t think of it without also thinking of the stories of the POWs he mowed down in cold blood, after offering them cigarettes, of all things.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned since the war started, it’s that seeing combat makes some people lose their humanity and their morals. You’ve been lucky enough to hold onto yours. Even though sometimes it feels like your grip is slipping or that you’re holding on so tight that the effort makes your fingers ache, at least you’ve retained your decency. And you won’t let it go now.

“Morning, Captain Speirs!” McClung calls out as the captain enters the room for breakfast.

The captain nods his greetings to the other men, who keep talking as if nothing has happened. They used to fall silent when he walked into a room, as if the sound of their amiability would set him off. Now they continue on as if any of the other men have walked into the room. Sometimes they even try to invite him into a joke.

You, though, cannot forget the stories that you’ve heard. There is still goodness in the world, even if people like Captain Speirs cannot handle knowing that. When he takes a seat a few people down on the other side of the table, you avert your eyes and engross yourself in a story that Heffron is telling instead of acknowledging the presence that you cannot help feel is always keeping an eye on you.

Paranoia, you tell yourself, is a hell of a thing.

. . .

Laughter is the first thing that Speirs notices when he approaches the basement where all the men are having their breakfast. It doesn’t stop when he enters the room this time, like he’s snuffing out a flame. Some of the men even nod to him in greeting when he shows up in the mornings. For all the rumors that trail behind him – he’s aware of them; rumors always have a way of reaching their subject – it would seem that his men have either elected to ignore them or have forgiven his supposed sins.

Well, the men have, anyway. The new munitions expert, (Y/L/N), doesn’t seem to care much for him. He’s assuming that’s because of the rumors. It has to be. Any time that he enters a room, she used to make the same frightened look that all the men were constantly giving him after the jump into France. Now she won’t even look at him most of the time. When she does, it’s only to glance at him before looking away again, like she’s disgusted by his presence.

Speirs didn’t join the military to make friends. No, when he was drafted he knew that he needed to perform his duty to his country. The rumors that have begun to cling to him are a side effect of turning into a soldier. Gossip never bothered him very much. And neither did the scared looks people gave him.

Until now. For some reason it bothers him that you won’t even so much as look in his direction. Sometimes he even finds himself wondering what he can do to change that.

Today he greets his men, takes his breakfast – er, what bland food is passable enough that they’ve started calling it breakfast – and turns to find a seat among the others. Before he can question his own intentions, he moves with long, quick strides to the seat across from you.

“Morning, Cap,” several of the men greet him.

“Morning,” he replies, trying to ignore the way that you freeze at the sound of his voice and the way that your eyes go wide when you look up at him. His stomach drops. This is like being fifteen and getting rejected by the girl that he likes all over again. Something about it is nerve-racking and devastating all at once.

Maybe he should have brushed off all those rumors back when he had the chance – back before they clung to him so tightly that the myth became inseparable from the man.

. . .

The day after the patrol is atypical. Sleep eludes most everyone, despite the events of the night. Those who can catch a few moments of rest. Everyone else tries to stay out of their way, careful not to make too much noise. It’s unusual to see the men of Easy Company so subdued, their moods somber and their voices quiet.

The deck of cards you managed to nick while Luz wasn’t looking are a comforting weight in your hand as you walk the halls of the skeletal building. Heffron always seems to be up for a game of cards. And if not him, then surely someone else will be willing to play, eager to distract themselves after the events of the night.

“ – did all you could,” a voice in a room up the hallway from you is saying. It’s familiar, but its tone is . . . gentle and . . . reassuring.

Slowly, you inch forward, wanting to see if the voice really does belong to him – if he really is capable of being so soothing – but not wanting to interrupt the conversation. Or worse, make it seem like you’re eavesdropping. (Which, technically, is exactly what you’re trying to do. No one else needs to know that, though.)

The disheartened voice of Doc Roe answers. Funny, you’ve never heard his voice sound so dispirited. Somehow, the roles in the conversation have been flipped.

“We still lost a man,” Roe says. “Is there any way we can get more supplies? I know they’re hard to come by right now, but I don’t feel prepared.”

A beat of silence follows. You’re by the doorway now. Carefully, you peek around to see Roe and Speirs in the room. Roe looks upset and Speirs looks inscrutable, as usual. You watch as he thinks for a moment before he reaches out and claps Roe on the shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures the medic. “But Doc, you did all you could. Remember that.”

Roe nods. “Thank you, Captain.”

Quietly, you move back from the doorway as their meeting ends and footsteps approach. Thankfully it’s Doc who exits the room, and he closes the door behind him. He’s still for a moment and lets out a sigh. You don’t move, but he turns to you anyway and offers a small smile as he starts down the hall in your direction.

“You know,” he says as he passes you. “Captain Speirs is really an understandin’ guy underneath all that toughness.”

Then he continues down the hall, leaving you standing there, alone, considering what you just overheard: something soft and unexpected – much different from the Speirs you know . . . or think you know.

. . .

Rules are a fickle thing. They probably exist in Austria in some form or another. Yet no one seems to know what they are, and those who hint that they do don’t seem too keen to follow them. The mountainous landscape quickly becomes a place of fun and fraternization. Not to mention any of the other activities that the army would surely frown upon. Like the looting.

“I’ll trade you,” Perconte entices you for the hundredth time.

“Perco, what do you need with another watch?”

The Italian smiles. “Just startin’ a collection, (Y/N). And I intend for it to be the best in the whole army.”

“Uh huh. But you want this watch why?”

Maybe it’s the heat of the spring afternoon, but it looks like a shade of pink tinges Perconte’s cheeks. He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. “All I have are men’s watches. And that one – “ he nods to the one on your wrist. “ – is exactly what I got in mind for a certain girl back home.”

“Awe, Perco. Who’d have guessed that the war would turn you so sentimental?”

“Shut up.”

The watch you brought from home was broken during basic training on an obstacle course. Your second one got scratched up at some point after the Allied Invasion, and continued to get worse until one day you looked down and realized that you couldn’t tell the time on it. You only kept it on because its familiar weight was somewhat of a comfort. Now, in Austria, with so much finery everywhere, it wasn’t hard to find a new one. Still, it’s not exactly anything special – just a slim but study leather band holding a beautiful gold watch face. It’s practical, if not a little hard to read the small numbers.

Maybe Perconte isn’t the only one that the war has turned all sentimental. It’s sweet that he’s thinking of someone back home that he wants to impress. Besides, you can always find a new watch.

It unclasps easily and you hand it over to him, watching his smile grow. “I hope she likes it.”

“Gee, thanks (Y/N)! You’re a lifesaver!” He thumps you on the shoulder before taking off with the watch, whistling while he goes. You watch him, smiling to yourself. Home is on the horizon. All anyone can do is hope for someone as thoughtful as Perconte to have remembered them fondly enough to give them a token of their affection.

“He’s in a good mood.”

You freeze as you register the presence by your side. Like Hades and his Helm of Darkness, Speirs has materialized out of nowhere. When did he get here?

“Yes, Sir. He is.”

“Say,” Speirs says casually. “You wouldn’t happen to have the time, would you?”

What an odd question. You turn to face him, only to find an unfamiliar expression on his face. He wants you to answer, even though it seems like he knows exactly what answer to expect from you.

“No, Sir. I just gave my watch to Perconte.”

“Oh. That’s inconvenient.”

“I suppose it is.”

Speirs digs in his pocket. “Well, no one should walk around not knowing what time it is. How about you take this one?”

In his hand, when he extends it to you, is a beautiful silver watch. A bit bigger than the one you just gave away, and definitely flashier. Diamonds encrust the watch’s face like a crown on a monarch. The silver band looks more delicate than the leather one you’ve grown used to in the past few days, but it’s undeniably beautiful.

For some reason, you nod. You extend your own hand to receive the watch.

“Here,” Speirs says. “Allow me.” His voice rises slightly at the end, like it’s a question. He pauses, once again waiting for your answer. When you nod, he takes your hand and carefully fastens the watch onto your wrist. You’re standing so close that all you can do is pray that he doesn’t notice the way that his fingers ghosting over your wrist makes your breath hitch in your throat. He’s unexpectedly gentle. You never would have imagined that his hands – which have wielded such unbridled violence, so you’ve heard – could be so soft.

“There,” he says when he’s done. He smiles as you turn your wrist, admiring the gift. “It’s beautiful. Silver suites you.”

Anything that you might have hoped to say, even a thank you, gets lost in the haze of his unexpected words. How can this man who stands before you be the same one who mowed down POWs in cold blood, or who shot his own sergeant? And why is he showing such kindness to you?

Finally, you manage to clear your throat. “Thank you, Captain Speirs. You’re very kind.”

He nods, smiling in a way that you’ve never seen before. He turns to go, but you step forward to stop him.

It’s strange, the way that things have of unexpectedly falling into place while we watch on, helpless to stop our own actions. Yet something about this Speirs is so . . . different from everything you’ve heard.

But not what you’ve seen, you think, remembering the conversation you caught him having with Doc Roe. Maybe you should find out more about this version of Speirs before he slips away.

“Captain,” you say with a pounding heart. “I was just about to go find something to eat. I was wondering . . . I was wondering if you might like to join me?”

Speirs’ smile grows. “I would like that very much.”

Before either of you can change your mind, you begin walking down the Austrian streets together. You’ve been with Easy Company for a while now and have grown close with most of the men. It’s high time that you got to know your Captain; the real version of him – not the one that everyone else introduced you to.

“So,” you begin. “Where are you from?”

#ron speirs x reader #ron speirs #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfic #hbo war #my writing

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takemetothemoon-fics · 2 years ago

Text

Starts with S, nine letters.

Title: Starts with S, nine letters

Pairing: Killian Jones x OC

Word count: 900

Warnings: none

Tags: Fluff, a loooot of flirting, mild smut but mainly kissing

Synopsis: This story is about Seraphina Vale, my OC, who meets Captain Hook when she's in a bar. Things get flirty real quick...

A/N: Hello!!! So happy you're taking the time to read this. This is my first fic ever!!! For this story I decided to create an OC, but you can just replace the name with Y/N if you'd like. Just for the sake of this story I decided to give her a name, since Killian has to guess her name at some point. Hope u like the story. Don't be afraid to follow me here :)

MASTERLIST

She had no clue what was about to come upon her. Who she was about to meet. It was late in the evening. Seraphina was sitting in a bar, alone.

'Hello darling.'

Sera looks up. There's a man standing next to her table. Without asking, he sits down at the head of the table.

'And you are?' Sera asks.

He raises an eyebrow and is amused by your inquiry, a warm smile growing on his handsome face.

'Why, I'm Captain Killian Jones darling, also known as Hook.'

'And you are?' he leans in and looks into her eyes.

'Hook. Interesting name. My name... Is not important. For now.'

'Hmm…' he raises an eyebrow once more, taking note of this strange woman who has chosen not to introduce herself.

'Not important… ' he says in a contemplative tone, 'I have stumbled upon a mystery. I'm quite good at solving mysteries, you know.' he says with a smirk.

'I'd like to see you try' Seraphina says. Hell, why not, she thought to herself. She felt like having some fun.

He smirks and leans on the bar, his tone flirtatious as it always is.

'Oh, is that a challenge I hear darling?'

He tilts his head and looks at her with a sly grin.

'Hmm…' he muses, 'a woman who wants to test me… ' he purrs and his eyes look like they are assessing her up and down.

'What are the stakes?'

'You name them.' She says, in a teasing tone, daring him to bite.

His eyebrows raise a little higher this time, his smile growing bigger and even more smug.

'Hmm… how about a kiss?'

'You know what? I'm bored. Yes. You'll get a kiss as soon as you guess my name' She says.

He nods his head, his smile growing wide as he leans in and looks deep into her eyes.

'It's a deal, darlin'. You have yourself a challenge.'

It's clear he's confident in his ability to complete this task, although he's also intrigued by the mysterious woman in front of him.

'Let the games begin…'

He grins from ear to ear as his eyes sparkle with confidence and his eyebrows raise.

'And may the best pirate… win.' he says with a self-assured smirk that shows he's more than ready to play the game.

Killian takes a sip of his drink and starts to observe her closely, carefully considering all of her features and mannerisms as he begins to think of who this mysterious woman could be.

'Hmmm…'

He leans forward slowly with a smirk on his face, his eyes fixed on hers as he looks into her eyes, looking like he's carefully considering what name might suit her. He's clearly starting to get into the game now, and his eyes have the playful, teasing look about them that's so characteristic of him.

'How about…' he says playfully, 'Annabel?'

'Wrong.'

He pulls back a little, running a hand through his hair as he thinks for another few moments. After a little time, he leans forward slowly once more, and looks into her eyes with a coy smile once more.

'Well then how about… Charlotte?' he asks teasingly with a wink as he once again tries to narrow down her name, his eyes gazing into hers as if he's trying to uncover her secret to get to it.

'Such basic names..' She teases, 'wrong again.'

Killian raises an eyebrow, his playful face turning slightly more serious as he considers the matter at hand.

'Basic names?' he asks in a joking tone while he moves his face a little closer to hers as he raises the other eyebrow.

'Give me something less basic.' She says with a teasing tone while his eyes look her up and down with a playful but calculating gaze.

'Something… that'll suit you. ' he purrs as he leans even closer, clearly enjoying the game and wanting to continue teasing her.

'I'll give you a hint. the name starts with S, and has 9 letters'

Killian leans back in his seat in mock frustration, but a warm smile also crosses his face.

'Nine letters… S…' he hums to himself, clearly running through the names and combinations of words in his head while he looks at her thoughtfully and a playful, yet calculating look crosses his face.

'How about… Seraphina?' he says with a smile as he watches her, waiting to see if he got the name right this time. The way he says her name gives her goosebumps.

'Well played. You got it.' Seraphina says, impressed with how quickly he got her name.

'Well, my dear Seraphina, consider the game won.' he says with a flirtatious grin and wiggles his elbows.

'Now… about that kiss…' he says with a teasing wink, moving forward and gently placing a hand on her cheek.

'Call me Sera, and yes. You've earned it.' She says, seductively.

'Sera it is darling…' he says with a playful smile as he leans closer, placing the other hand behind her neck while he tilts his head a little to the left as he once again moves closer for what promises to be an intense kiss. His breath hits her lips as they get closer and the passion in his eyes is easy to see.

'Sera…' he whispers as the two of them share a slow and sweet, yet passionate kiss that takes their breath away.

#fluff #killian jones #killian jones x oc #killian jones fanfic #fanfic #once upon a time #ouat #captain hook #ff #drama #romance #imagine #ouat x oc #once #killian #jones #killian jones fanfiction

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pebblesinyourshoe · 5 months ago

Text

A tool box sits on the floor in my office.

It belongs to a young man whose parents brought it to school at my request when this youngster was in first grade. He’s now in fourth grade.

The young boy was born a tinkerer his mother told me the summer before he began kindergarten - always building, always tagging along behind his father who can fix most things and whose hands and mind make electricity flow in places we live and places we work.

The young man liked to be outside. He fishes, mushroom hunts, swings a golf club like a battle ax, and has a smile painted across his face most days.

The boy is gentle. His parents worried - how will a boy who can make a screwdriver sing survive with a pencil in his hands for over seven hours a day in school? Fair question. Honest worry. One never knows about our children when they leave our home and enter school.

This boy has done fine in the classroom with loving teachers who drink in his calmness and appreciate his quiet calm nature. He has surpassed all the typical academic milestones thus far placed in his path. But he has done so much more.

He has the toolbox in my office at my request for a reason. You see, this boy also provides a bit of security for me - a person who can make a pencil sing in the classroom but lacks the tools and skills to build and fix. When these moments demanding work with my hands arise, and they often do, a phone call is placed, “Can you send Jack to my office when it’s a good time?”

And Jack arrives with the smile painted permanently on his face and either grabs the toolbox like a man grabs his lunchbox on the way out the door to work or opens it in front of me to fix whatever is broken or whatever needs built and assembled.

He brings a focus to a problem that is both gentle and analytical. I have a stepson the same way - can just look at a problem and figure it out. Oh, to crawl inside his head to see how they both see the world in three dimensions while I struggle with two.

The task is always completed in the tidiest of fashions. The screws tightened or the parts emptied from the box, spread out on the floor then assembled into something that looks just like the picture on the outside of the box - all the pieces facing the right way the first time they are assembled and no extra pieces leftover to cause you to worry. I marveled at him in first grade when he could work his genius. He marvels me still to this day as he has grown.

He works cheap. A Coke or a candy bar. Always smiles when offered my gratitude and always answers with a humble, “You’re welcome.” He’s the kind of person you hope buys the house next door to you - you know - has all the tools and is happy to use them with you to solve a problem.

I stared at this toolbox yesterday and realized “Time is moving forward”. I have two more years of the security of his expertise and quiet nature before he ages out to middle school. I thought about that and was both happy and sad. Selfishly sad because I will miss him for who he is and what he offers but happy because he is growing and is becoming a young man who is successful both with a screwdriver in his hand and to the relief of his parents, with a pencil as well. The praise goes to his teachers and his family and some born-into genetics but also to the young man. Who, like my stepson, knows how to work and how to fix things and how to do a job well both with a screwdriver and a pencil clutched between his fingers. A true gift.

I am hoping the young man and his parents donate the toolbox to my office upon him aging out. This year I plan to ask one of my teachers who can do that voodoo with a Cricut to add “Jack’s Toolbox” as a label to that red container. It is his box and is a reminder to me that talent runs in many different directions in a human being and that we all have gifts that can be offered to help each other when called upon.

Jack always answers my call. He always helps. He always does it with a smile. And he is already a success in life but he makes me wonder, “What greatness awaits him as a human being, a partner, employee, neighbor, friend, and citizen?” I think it will be wonderful to see where life takes him. And we all need to appreciate those individuals in our world who can build, fix, and troubleshoot but are also great friends, loyal employees, hard workers, honest neighbors, and community-minded citizens. It’s amazing what a toolbox can do in the hands of the right person.

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discopig · 3 years ago

Text

That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 1/3]

This is lowkey inspired by Sevdaliza’s song “That other girl” so give it a listen, she’s really underrated. As a member of the Grace love-hate relationship club, and an angst lover, I’m going to enjoy writing this. I might give it a fluffy ending but we’ll see! This isn’t set in any specific season because I honestly enjoy kinda ignoring the original plotline of the show... whoops! This is a short intro chapter

When Grace Burgess moves to Birmingham, she’s automatically the star of the show, her gracious face and innocence capturing the hearts of those who lay their eyes on her, but you don’t buy it. Her sudden appearance and posh aura setting your intuition off, a perk you’d gained from being around Polly so much. At first you try to ignore her presence, but when your boyfriend, and long time friend - Thomas Shelby, takes a keen liking to Grace, could you ever win against that other girl? Word Count: 978

Part 2 | Part 3

It was your regular evening at the Garrison, hundreds of drunk men piled up in the bar, the sounds of laughter and yelling penetrating your eardrums. You had been working at the Garrison for over 9 years, first accepting the job as a way to make some cash as you were only 18 when you ran away from your family, and the position happened to be vacant. You never intended to stay, the fumes of the factories and dark alleys in Birmingham being a stark contrast to the posh greenery and lavish villas you grew up with, however life doesn’t always work out the way you plan.

You were now 27 and if you were being honest - you hadn’t realized just how quickly the time had flown by... Well, when you know the Shelby family, it’s almost impossible for time to not fly by. You had gotten to know the Shelby family when Harry made you deliver 6 bottles of whiskey to their offices, a task you were afraid to take on, seeing as you were no stranger to the rumours about the Shelby family, and being new to Birmingham the last thing you wanted was trouble with the gangsters who have the city in the palm of their hands.

You had worn your plain brown cotton dress - the best item you could afford with the money you received from your job, and began your journey to the betting shop, trudging along the streets of Birmingham with the box of whiskey bottles. From that day on, Harry allowed you to serve the Shelby’s and you quickly got close to all of them, but one of them had completely stolen your heart - Tommy.

You’d never expected to fall for him, until you found yourself enamored by every word he’d say during family meetings, and lay in bed at night remembering every slight glance, or acknowledgement he’d given you. It was a stupid crush, and Tommy was quite a bit older than you and most likely saw you as nothing but a silly young girl, but when he started coming to the Garrison alone, eliciting your company to rant about his issues, or joke with you about how stupid Arthur was, he found himself falling in love with you too, your untouched innocence drastically standing out from the tainted souls of Birmingham, the way your eyes crinkled up when you’d smile, your London accent peeking through when you’d talk too quickly or how a cigarette looked almost like an expensive piece of jewelry between your fingers. So your love blossomed, and you became Thomas Shelby’s girl.

You had just delivered a bucket of beer to a table in the corner of the Garrison and were heading back to the bar, when all of a sudden you found yourself laying on the floor, the pain from your ankle hissing through your body

“Oh for fucks sake!” you exclaimed. Harry rushed over after seeing your condition - him having become an almost father like figure to you over the years.

“Are you alright Y/N?” he asked, concern beaming from his eyes

“I think I’ve sprained my bloody ankle or somethin’, it hurts like ‘ell”

Harry shook his head and offered to pick you up, you reached out to him and he took you to a taxi outside the Garrison

“Clyde, you’re gonna have to carry her up to her apartment” he said to the young taxi driver, who simply nodded in response

“You don’t need to come in, make sure you get your ankle fixed alright? Call a doctor or somethin’”

“I will Harry, don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll be back before you know it” you smiled at him, always being able to maintain your high spirits.

It had been two weeks since you’d been to work, your ankle was now in fairly good condition, however you still needed to be careful. Tommy had visited you almost every day, despite him being obviously tired, John had also visited a lot, always cracking jokes and making your tiny apartment smell like expensive cigars.

You’re wearing a green apron-style cotton dress with a white cardigan and some white flats - heels no longer a possible choice for the time being - your hair pinned back in a low bun, with a few loose strands at the front. You aren’t going into work today, you’re simply going to visit as you miss Harry and the bustle of the bar.

The bar isn’t as busy as usual as it’s only 2 PM. When you walk in you find Harry behind the bar, polishing some of the shot glasses, he beams when he sees you

“Y/N! I see your ankle is doing better”

“It is Harry, sadly I can’t work yet or Dr. Prew will kill me, but I’m just happy to leave my apartment for once! How have things been without me? Hope you’re not suffering too much eh?”

“Oh no no, thinks have been quite smooth with the new barmaid” he replied

“New barmaid?” you questioned

“Yeah, her name is Grace. Didn’t Tommy mention her? He’s been here almost everyday, she usually serves them and tends the bar”

“No... he never mentioned a new barmaid. Well, I’m happy you’ve had help while I’ve been gone, hopefully I’ll get to meet said Grace soon”

You tried to sound enthusiastic, but not only were the thoughts of reasons as to why Tommy would refrain from telling you about your new colleague plaguing your mind, you also weren’t too happy about having to share the bar with someone else aside from Harry. You had gotten used to it and felt as though she might ruin your flow, and take away your usual tips.

Your deep thought is suddenly interrupted by the sound of the Garrison door slamming shut

“I’m back with the new glasses” A female voice exclaimed. You turned to the direction of the voice and felt your spirit bury itself six feet underground

Shit chapter but oh well... It’s 2 AM and I’m exhausted ❤

#cillian murphy x reader #Cillian murphy fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders angst #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine

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digitalfairyyy · 3 years ago

Text

Never Letting You Out Of My Sight

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Summary: Fighting for the butcher army has its pros and its cons

Warnings: angst with some fluff sprinkled in, mentions of blood, hinted past abuse, choking, flinching

Pronouns: genderneutral

Note: I might write another part to this but who knows

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Art by Jessica Oyhenart

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The stars twinkled in the sky while you stood at your chest, organizing your supplies, pictures of ham and bacon hanging on the walls reminding you of the task at hand; to kill Technoblade. To get revenge for what happened to L'Manberg. You were no more than a nurse for the butcher army, and sometimes a guard, that's currently what you were doing. You had been given the task to watch Phil while the others go find Techno.

Glancing over at where Phil was sitting on house arrest, you picked up a shiny red apple from the chest and made your way to Phil's house. With a quiet knock, Phil was at the door staring at you. You held out the apple to him while he stared at you as if you were insane.

"Take this as my apology to what the Butcher army did to your home, I know an apple isn't a great payment for all the damages but you seemed hungry so," Phil's wings folded back behind him as he reached for the apple in your palm. He thanked you for the apple as he took a bite out of it, "I've never seen Quackity like this, I knew he wanted Techno to pay but not like this."

Philza's eyes narrowed looking at you, "so why are you helping him? Quackity doesn't deserve anything, he's a psychopath. You can find a better friend than that, mate."

You stiffled a laugh with your sleeve making Philza cock his eyebrow at you, "oh sorry, just reminds me of something that an old... friend of mine used to say."

"You stopped yourself before you said friend, what's up with that mate?" Phil questioned, finishing the apple and tossing it behind him into the garbage.

"Just hurts to remember that's all," you didn't want to admit the truth, besides it had been so long, he probably forgot all about you at this point, "it's been so long, you think he even remembers me? It's been such a long time."

"Hey cheer up mate," Philza wrapped one of his wings around you, "here I'll make a deal with you. Help me out of here and save Techno and I'll help reunite you and this friend of yours."

Your eyes widened, nervousness hiding behind your eyes as you felt compelled to agree. Phil smiled at you looking around his chest before pulling out a creeper and a skeleton head, tossing you the skeleton head.

"How are you supposed to leave with those?" Philza looked down at his feet where you were pointing. The iron boots keeping him on house arrest keeping him in place.

"Thinking still about that," Philza looked back at the you, his eyes showing concentration but also worry, "at least Techno knows, I got one of my crows to send him a letter. It's gonna take them a while to get all the way to him, he has time to prepare himself." Phil smiled to himself staring at the creeper head, "we're gonna fucking tail them. I know where Techno lives, with or without a compass, I know."

"But the boots."

Phil let out a breath looking at you, "not like there's a tracker in them, they just can't know I left the house. We can hide in plain sight."

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It was about a few hours long of a journey making your way through the snow, the skeleton head proving to be quite the annoyance as you and Phil hid in the bushes staring at Techno's house where the group had formed. They seemed to be arguing with a ghost who kept switching from going inside and outside.

Than you saw him, Techno standing on his porch staring down at the butcher army and the ghost. He looked the same as he always did, a few new scars but nothing too noticeable. He still wore the robe you had made him, it brought a smile to your face seeing how regal he still looked wearing it.

The ghost seemed to notice you and Phil, waving over at you two while Phil tried to silently signal him to stop. Phil tapping on your shoulder to move to a less visible spot while you two easedropped on the conversation. The ghost continued to float over to you two, waving at Phil and giving him a piece of stake while Phil stayed silent.

Techno started to sprint in your direction as Quackity caught him explaining that he had to come with them.

"Techno isn't allowed in L'Manberg?" the ghost said with a quiet cry, apart of you felt bad for him, he seemed so confused and not able to understand the severity of the scene right now.

It was silent.

"I choose blood!" Techno yelled as he smashed potions onto the ground, making it difficult for you and Phil to see the action. All you could hear was Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo's screams while Quackity was trying to get a hold of the situation.

"Big Q do something! Big Q!!" Tubbo yelled, blocking Techno's axe with his shield being an inch from his face, "Big Q!"

"Stop!" Quackity yelled, he was riding what seemed to be a horse. You remembered that horse, it was the same horse that Techno used to go riding with you on. Carl you remembered his name was, the most important thing in the world to Techno was that horse.

Techno looked away from where he had Tubbo trapped, his eyes widening seeing Quackity holding Carl, "get away from that horse Quackity!"

"Drop everything, or I will kill this horse right in front of you," Quackity's eyes narrowed. Techno seemed conflicted before he dropped his axe, his armor, his robe, and his crown, allowing Fundy and Tubbo to restrain him.

Phil grabbed your arm pulling you with him, "come on, we have to get there before they do."

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Sitting in the seats like you were told to do when they returned, you waited for Technoblade's execution. The cage open for Techno's place and the anvil waiting to be dropped. Carl was tied to the fence by the dock while you watched Techno be shoved into the cage.

"When I hit that lever over there it is gonna drop and that anvil up there will kill you," Quackity explained while Techno looked up at the anvil hanging above him.

Tubbo made his way over to his stand where he would read Techno's rights before the execution. Tubbo fixed the mic to his height before speaking, "Technoblade has robbed our country of everything that made it special, everything that defined what it was. He stepped in when he shouldn't have. He created chaos, he ruined the government-"

Suddenly an enderpearl was thrown and Punz had appeared smashing potions on the ground before attacking. He dropped tnt on the ground that was quickly picked up before he started to attack the butcher army. You ran out of your spot towards Phil's house which had been boarded up once more.

"Technoblade," the ghost smiled looking up at the piglin hybrid, a blue sheep following him, "I've named him Friend."

"Hello Ghostbur," Techno said in his usual monotone voice, grabbing onto the bars of the cage, "that's fantastic Ghostbur, I'm about to die Ghostbur."

"Fuck it fuck it I'm pulling this lever," Quackity ran over to where the lever was, Techno understandable being confused as he tried to escape the cage. Phil pulling out his bow to try to stop them before Quackity pulled the lever.

It was like slow motion, your back was pressed against Phil's boarded up door as you watched the anvil fall. Techno staring up at the anvil that was coming closer and closer to crushing him. Ghostbur looking confused of the situation, not able to understand. Phil looking away not able to bare staring at his friend die.

But than he didn't...

Instead he jumped ontop of the anvil and out of the cage. Running over to Carl and jumping onto the horse's back riding away.

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You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. You were sitting in front of Quackity stitching up his face while he sat in silence, occasionally tensing up in pain from the needle piercing his skin. You sort of blamed yourself for what happened to Quackity even though it was Techno's pickaxe that did this.

It was a deep cut too, you knew his right eye would never work again from how it had glossed over into a pure white and Quackity had mentioned his vision going blurry in that eye. Once you were done stitching it up, Quackity looked up at you, "so when did you plan to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" you questioned standing up and putting your stuff away, sorting your potions. You really hoped Quackity wasn't hinting at what you think he was.

"About you and Technoblade..." Quackity's eyes narrowed at you when you froze, your fingers tapping on your table, "how you two used to be old buddy buddies? How you helped Philza escape? How you're only helping me because you think I'm gonna hurt Tubbo or Ranboo? Maybe how you fucking love Techno?!" By this point, Quackity had stood up and was right in front of you, you gulping seeing the anger showing in Quackity's eye. It reminded you how Schlatt used to treat you when you worked for him.

"Quackity I--"

"I bet you're so fucking happy to see me like this huh?" Quackity's hand flew its way to your throat, crushing your throat under his hand, "in fucking pain, only having one good eye left, huh? Was this all some kind of joke to you? Did I ever truly mean anything to you because I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe my friendship meant nothing? Bet your fucking terrified now."

You gasped for air, trying to push on Quackity's chest to get him to let go feeling yourself lose consiousness.

"I wish Schlatt fucking killed you in the van," Quackity let go of you pushing you down onto the ground, "get out of L'Manberg, I don't want to see your face in this town again or I will not hesitate to execute you and I won't fail this time at it either."

"But my stuff," you said once you regained air in your lungs.

"Not your stuff anymore, you're on your fucking own now," Quackity opened the door, "you have 10 minutes, I better not see your face again."

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With nowhere else to go, you decided to say hello to an old friend. You were absolutely freezing out here with absolutely nothing to defend yourself. You could only hope that he would want to see you or even remember you and all the times you two shared in the past. You felt like you were gonna turn into ice if you were outside for any longer as you knocked on the door.

But the door never opened and eventually you fell asleep, curled up on the porch by the door. You were slipping in and out of consiousness, you'd end up asleep for a few minutes than out again, falling asleep seemed to be the only thing that kept you warm.

Waking back up, you felt your vision be blurry and your head starting to spin. You couldn't even feel your limbs trying to hold onto your shaking cold body as you slowly felt yourself lose consiousness again.

In your frozen state, you felt a pair of arms pick you up, "it's okay I got you, come on come on, you're gonna be okay." You felt something heavy be wrapped around you and heard the door be opened, "come on, we need a fire. Y/N will freeze to death."

"We need to get them warm," you heard the ghost you had seen before say with the sound of a sheep being heard in response.

You felt yourself be dropped gently onto the ground in front of a fireplace, feeling the soft feel of wool curling up behind you along with the heavy robe.

"Will they be okay Techno?" Ghostbur asked the piglin hybrid who was staring down at you. Why had you come all the way out here? Especially at night and during a storm? That was practically a death sentence. He had no clue what would have happened and what he would have done if he was just a few minutes late, "Techno?"

"Go to bed Ghostbur," Techno said kneeling down onto the floor where you were in front of the fireplace curled up in Friend's wool.

"But ghosts don't sleep."

"Just give me some time alone, go play with Steve," Techno was trying to make up any kind of excuse he could to get a few minutes alone to himself to think. Ghostbur understood that he was not wanted right now and sadly nodded moving to outside where Steve was to give the bear company.

Techno looked down at you, his hand hesitantly going to your hair brushing the few strands you had in front of your face out of the way. He had missed you but knew that the separation was for your own safety but now he wasn't so sure being separated was the safest choice now.

Techno's eyes narrowed in curiosity looking at your neck, it'd almost seemed to be bruised as his eyebrows furrowed. He didn't want to assume anything so he decided to ask when you would wake as he smiles to himself, "I am not gonna lose you again."

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You woke up warm and feeling safe, a feeling you hadn't felt for a very long time. Your eyes fluttered open to seeing a blue sheep curled up against you and a polar bear on your other side, his head resting in your lap. The fire place in front of you was still burning brightly as you heard the sound of humming coming from the other room. You pulled yourself off the ground waking up the blue sheep who let out a baa following you.

You entered the other room where the humming was coming from and you were tackled in a hug by the ghost you had met. He smiled clinging to you.

"You're alive! You're alive! I don't even know you but you're alive!" Ghostbur laughed clinging onto you. You laughed hugging the ghost back. You looked over at the corner of the room over Ghostbur's shoulder noticing Techno sitting at a table, a book in his hands and glasses on the bridge of his nose, his tusks peaking out of his lips like usual.

"Morning," Techno said with his usual monotone voice marking the page in his book and take his glasses off. Ghostbur let go of you as you made your way over to the table sitting down, Techno's robe still over your shoulders, "you look very nice in my robe I must say."

"Thank you for saving my life," Techno nodded sliding a plate of potatoes over to you as you stiffled a laugh, "you still obsessed with potatoes huh?"

"Eh," Techno shrugged as Ghostbur skipped outside with Friend following him. Techno watched the door close, finally knowing Ghostbur was out of earshot he looked at you in all seriousness, "who put their hands on you."

You were caught off guard by Techno's question, looking at him, his eyes scanning your entire face trying to read your emotions, "no one, I just had a run in with some mobs, that's all."

"Oh so you're trying to tell me that a creeper grabbed you by the throat as such a rough grip to bruise? Come on Y/N, I've known you for how long and you think I'll fall for something like that?" it was obvious you couldn't just lie to Techno but at the same time, lying would cause less blood shed, "besides you wouldn't just run out of L'Manberg like that and almost have yourself killed if everything was fine, just spit it out."

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because the person that I love just comes to my house out of nowhere after completely disappearing for a long time and almost dies at my door step and then I find bruises on their neck like someone had strangled them?!" Techno yelled catching you off guard. You had never seen Techno so mad at you before, sure you two had arguments in the past but this was different, he never raised his voice at you before.

Techno raised his hand to run his hand through his hair to calm himself down, however when you flinched seeing his hand go up, he froze. His hands dropping to his sides as he got up from the table and grabbed his axe before walking out the door.

You looked down at your hands, you didn't mean to flinch, it just happened, you didn't mean to scare him like that. You sighed dropping your face into your hands as you silently cried into your hands feeling Steve lay his head on your lap looking up at you.

"I gotta go boy," you scratched behind Steve's ear as you got off the chair, Steve following behind you as you went to the door, "no you have to stay here boy." Opening the door, you closed it before Steve could come out as you watched the bear jump up and look through the window of the door as you walked out.

The snow crunched under your feet as you started to walk away. You were meant to be alone. You thought coming back to Techno would make things better but all you did was make him think that you were scared of him.

You kept walking till you noticed less and less snow and noticed you were in a flower field. Your tears started to drop more as you looked at the flowers, it reminded you of the times you and Techno would spend in the flower fields together. You would sit in the grass picking flowers for different decor and dyes while Techno would tell stories of Greek mythology or his war stories. It didn't matter how many times you heard the same story, you loved to hear them everytime.

"Thought you might have wandered off to here," you vision snapped turning around to see Techno. He was just wearing his white button up, the first three button undone, his hair in a new braid. You remembered that you were the one that always braided his hair until you taught him to.

"Tech, I'm sorry-"

"Hush," Techno held up his hand moving over to you, his body towering over yours, "just tell me, please."

You looked down at the ground as Techno sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. You clung to his body as you felt the tears starting to well in your eyes, "it was Quackity. He found out about us and then he attacked me after I helped him treat that scar you gave him."

You felt Techno tense, "I wish I could kill that duck. I can't believe he'd put his hands on you like that."

"It's not the first time," you sighed out, hiding your face in Techno's chest. Techno asked you what you meant as you bit your lip, "during the L'Manberg war for independence, Dream had grabbed me when the van exploded and held me hostage for a few weeks until I got saved after L'Manberg became independant. Than I ended up working for Schlatt for a while when Wilbur and Tommy were exiled, I guess they never told you. Schlatt treated both me, Niki, and Quackity awfully, he taxed Niki till she was bankrupt, he would yell and shame Quackity, and then he'd grab me. It was worse when he found out I had opened the gates for Wilbur to get in Manberg, he almost killed me in a drunk rage inside the van. Than well, you know Quackity."

Techno sighed, "Y/N look at me."

You shook your head hiding your face in Techno's chest until he grabbed your chin making you look up at him.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

"I love you," you held onto Techno's hand as he smiled pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you too."

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Thank you for reading. Please show your support since it really helps me out :)

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Taglist:

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#technoblade x reader #digital fairyyy writing #mcyt x reader #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade #techno x reader #mcyt #dreamsmp #quackity x reader #ghostbur x reader #butcher army #hog hunt

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blzzrdstryr · 4 years ago

Text

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere #I am lowkey dissapointed in myself #Both reader and diluc are bad people #My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13 who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13 and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork’s Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

��Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed. So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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zuluc · 4 years ago

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anonymous requested: i've been thinking about what to request for the past 3 days and i think i've finally got it. can i ask for kaeya or diluc with a crush that's a depressed bard that always composes sad songs and lyrics? here's the twist, though. their songs and lyrics start to cheer up as the two of them become closer friends!

pairing: diluc x gn! reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: i decided to do diluc for this one because I think it’d have a great impact on him as a person as well, and i’m here for more fluff with him 🥰 i made the lyrics myself for the sake of this fic please go easy on me all i know about music is playing the violin/viola also this is long

i changed the prompt a bit if that’s alright!

“Who are you exactly?” Diluc eyes you strangely when you look at him with a blank stare. In one hand you have a notebook and in the other is a lyre. You walked in only moments ago, actively avoiding anyone’s eyes as they knew you weren’t from town. You just wanted to go straight to the owner of the tavern and hope to share what you had in that book of yours.

“A bard,” you say. You look around to see a few of the townspeople staring back while the others cheer happily with each other as if an exciting thing had happened. “Do you have room for a performance?”

Diluc raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. You didn’t appear to have any double meaning or ill intention in your words, rather, your eyes were just void of any glint of mischief he usually saw in a certain person. But to waltz in one day and ask for something like this so casually, you really weren’t from there.

“Sure, just don’t steal anything.” He is skeptical of you as he is of any one else but you didn’t need to know that. You were used to it after all. He directs you to the side of the bar that was supposedly the “performance stage” but it didn’t matter. Anywhere was fine with you.

The townspeople gradually stop their chatter as you quickly tune your lyre, playing a chord once the strings were ready. The tune that escapes into the air effectively silences any remaining voices. The song you were going to start wasn’t one they would usually hear in this city of freedom and apparently cheerfulness.

Your fingers hook at the strings, releasing them with ease as a soulful melody fills the entire tavern. The chord was of the lower register and hummed deeply. Diluc flicks his eyes over to you as he cleans a glass and sees your own eyes are closed.

When the night has passed

For then will I be free

Will they see me trample dust

Or let me keep my feet

Your book is open and he can see the words you were singing on the pages. It looks like you just started this line of work given how many pages were left in that book, assuming it was your only one as all you came in with were those two items and a small bag of mora.

He doesn’t notice how much of an effect your song had until he scans over the tavern patreons. Your voice carries through, swaying through the people to where it grazes a piece of their hearts to reminisce forlorn memories. But your words felt soulful as if they had come from your own experiences. A thought passes over his head which causes his heart to pang before quickly shaking it off when he realizes the feeling.

Ah, so you were this type of bard.

Diluc just thinks he’ll only see you one time so he lets the thought pass through.

Once your song ends the drunk townspeople cheer loudly among themselves. You are taken aback by all the noise but bow politely to them for their reaction. You take your things as they call out for you to do another song and you shake your head.

“Maybe another time,” you say with slight sorrow to your face or words. They accept the answer and continue on their night and when you turn to leave, Diluc can’t stop the words that come out of his mouth.

“Why not stay for a drink?” You look at him incredulously and he crosses his arms, “Call it payment for your services. They seemed to enjoy it.” You make cautious movement as you make your way to a stool. Diluc sets out an apple cider vinegar drink and you sniff at it. Once you take a sip you notice his face at the corner of your sight. The edge of his lip is slightly quirked up as he sighs while cleaning a glass.

It seems they weren’t the only ones who enjoyed the song.

Mondstadt was a city that was very welcoming in comparison to all the other places you spent time at. The people were either unwilling to hear your music or had particular reactions to the pieces you shared. To them, it seemed you didn’t understand that bar music was supposed to be lively and something to dance to. Not something to feel sad about.

But you wanted to share it anyways for your songs are one of the few things in life that you are proud of. One of the few things that have filled the emptiness of yourself that you lost those years ago and maybe, just maybe, sharing them will help you feel in some way. To you, these songs are sorrowful, but they shouldn’t just make people sad. That’s why you were quite surprised at the reactions at Angel’s Share as opposed to those from other places.

They should elicit emotions of nostalgia. Or maybe, you just hadn’t found the right experience to make them happier.

You come back a few nights later and Diluc is working the bar yet again. When he lifts his head, his shoulders sag in relief seeing that it is you. Venti had come by a few times after hearing about you and kept pressing the owner about letting him on the stage as well.

He was rejected numerous times in tandem with being asked to pay up for his drink tab.

The same book and lyre are still in hand when you head towards Diluc like you did that first night. He places the glass in his hands down and gives you a nod of his head, “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” You look around and see that the tavern is even fuller than the last night you performed. It seems word had got around of your songs and they had all been waiting patiently for nights now. That was what an attendee had said to you outside the door anyways. “Do you mind?” You gesture to the stage.

“Go for it,” Any sense of caution that seeped through his words when you met him was near to nonexistent now. Maybe it was the impressions you left on the townspeople and their word of mouth the past few days. A depressing bard in the city of freedom in comparison to the other bards was news, especially when this bar had a wonderful voice to listen to.

The bar quiets again with the numerous greetings and cheers in seeing you up there. You flip open your book and thumb through the pages before settling on one song near the middle. It was a two-parter.

Your fingers pick at the strings lightly, slowly adding pressure thus causing the volume to increase subtly. Diluc shifts in his spot as he tries to focus on the tasks at hand but there really isn’t anything he is going to lose if he wants to listen.

I ran far in the depths of that same night

They chased me off as they truly had hoped

But I lost my way and wandered far

Met and saw numerous things was how I coped

The townspeople are yet again taken by your voice and melody that they had started to move with the music. Diluc decides to abandon his tasks for a little while, now aware how your music allows him to reflect as you intended.

He sees these events before him. The death of one close to him and the loss of someone beside him whom he thought he could trust wholeheartedly. You stop singing but continue with plucking at the strings that calms the atmosphere. It is solemn and relaxing, almost putting the drunkest of the bunch to sleep but through sheer willpower they stay awake to listen on.

Happy and cheerful those that I have seen

But they were not accepting of me

Sharing the harsh reality of these mysteries

How will one otherwise feel so free?

The song ends and a round of cheers erupts, louder than the first night as there were more people. Diluc snaps out of his thoughts and wordlessly fixes you another drink that you take again, albiet still a bit shyly.

“Your lyrics,” Diluc begins and you tense at the sound of his voice, “From experience I assume?” He is straightforward, you should know this from the gossip around town. There was nothing in it for you to hide anything from him or anyone else so you tell him.

“Yes. That’s what makes good music, does it not?” You take a sip of the beverage. It must be a different one as it is much sweeter than the apple cider vinegar. “When you can relate to the words yourself. I simply want to share that with the people for reasons even I am unsure of.”

Diluc hums and doesn’t look you in the eye for his next words.

“I see. Your voice is quite nice.”

You both managed to continue with light chatter that night and he learns that you are staying in Mondstadt for quite a bit. You had no set plans to be in a specific place at any specific time so what was the rush to leave? Among this he is aware of how you speak. There is an ambiguous sorrow in your words from the effect of your past, he believes, that share no optimism but realistic choices that would completely stop the conversation.

But he was the same so it continues.

His past is the reason for his own apprehension when speaking with strangers but you were a little different. You outright told him your objective and you were just a bard who wanted to share their experience.

You learn this of him and it was the first time that you felt light when speaking with someone.

“Y/n!” They learn of your name after the third night you show up which is another few nights after the second. Some take your music as a lighthearted joke in contrast to their free lives while others pay close attention to the words and sway with the tune.

You give a small grin in acknowledgement before sitting in the stool in front of Diluc. Throughout the weeks you had gotten to know each other a little better besides the titles of The Sorrowful Bard and Diluc of Mondstadt. You were just y/n and he was Diluc.

You always make a point to talk to him before performing, giving a small insight into the meaning behind your words. Last time replayed the sleepless night and doubts as you wandered Teyvat and the time before that was a retelling of an animal that accompanied you for the last months of its life.

“It knew it had to go yet it decided to follow me, spreading that sadness of loss to me as I was attached.” You said to him that night with dry eyes.

All you tell him is that this song is a little different from your other ones.

He shows more of himself to you, actions he wouldn’t typically show to others if it weren’t for a certain motive or purpose. But you were not threatening nor wanted something from him. Diluc put a bit of trust in you for that.

You never sing more than one song each night because you want them to take in the words of each song carefully. Like that animal, you wanted to share the sadness but allow them to see the great memories.

This night contains your fourteenth or fifteenth song and it is fairly new. You wrote this in the early hours of the morning with a newfound emotion bustling inside your chest. You were scared when waking up, but felt reassured when there was a hint of melancholy there among an unfamiliar emotion.

The tavern goers look at you with hopeful and excited eyes. You feel warmth in your heart as you remember the times a few of them have come up to you telling you that your music has made it easier to sleep. That your music is inspiring; sad, but inspiring.

You play a chord and Diluc raises a brow in hearing a lighter tone. Underlying is that first low tone in your first night, indicating that you plan to keep a sense of your usual.

Then I stumbled in, seeing the light there

Unexpected welcoming I was greeted by

At first there was nothing then passed a while

Uprising something foreign for me to finally cry

Even if your eyes are trained to the floor, they are in his general direction. You didn’t know what you were feeling and you sure didn’t want to push it.

He has his entire attention directed at you.

You pluck higher notes much different from the chords you were accustomed to, messing up in a few that no one seemed to notice. You straighten yourself and look over the entire bar, settling your eyes on him for a bit too long for him to notice.

And so thankful am I

To be able to do such as that

And never is it unwelcomed

The beats in my soul are no longer flat

Your eyes stay staring at him and the cheers drown out. Diluc’s hand raises a few centimeters from the counter but you have already picked up your book and instrument and left.

The drink is untouched as he follows after you, thanks to Charles.

You feel like you can’t breathe but there is physically nothing blocking your airway. You assumed it was due to the collection of body heat in the tavern but even the cool night air did nothing to soothe the burning in your face.

Why did I look at him? Why was he looking back? What does this mean?

“Y/n!” You gasp at the sound of his voice and as you turn around you hope that it was just in your head. Your mouth opens and closes but you can’t speak. you don’t know what to say.

Truthfully, he doesn’t either.

Diluc didn’t know what to expect when you told him it would be different. He definitely didn’t expect for the song to be about him. He had deducted this reasoning and confirmed it when your eyes met and to you leaving.

In that room he felt the same: his face was warm and his heartbeat picked up when you lingered your gaze on him. He didn’t know what this feeling was either.

Neither of you are speaking, the breeze brushing through.

“I’m sorry!” You say, bowing your head so he cannot see the tears of confusion, frustration, and something else running down your face.

“Why are you apologizing?” He is near you now and he can feel you jump at his touch on your shoulder. When you don’t push him off he moves his gloved hand to cup your face to lift it up. This is the first time he’s seen you cry.

Ironic, given your songs.

Diluc lightly presses his thumb to your cheek to brush off a tear. “Apologizing is for if you’ve done something wrong. You have done nothing of the sort.”

“Are you sure?” You say without hesitation. It is an automatic response, built upon the hardening of your heart and soul through your travels. Diluc chuckles, a small smile on his face.

“I am sure.”

You strum lightly, a newfound lightness to you that almost everyone has noticed. Your songs still have that sorrowful reality to them but at the end they have changed. Seeing more of the graceful and fulfilling beauty of life.

Diluc still fixes you drinks after every performance and indulges you in conversation. This time around, however, he leans in closer and places his hand closer to yours.

And you are thankful to feel that emotion.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc

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kaistarus · 4 years ago

Text

Haikyuu Among Us

Pairs: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 2.8K

Summary: You're playing Among Us with the Karasuno gang. When you get selected to be the Imposter you're not above doing what it takes to win.

Notes: This is a completely self-indulgent fic for Nishinoya's b-day

Masterlist

"There are too many options. What do you think?”

Nishinoya’s yellow character stood motionless beside the lobby’s computer as he selected between several hats. Your animated crewmate ran circles around him while waiting for him to finish his customizations and for the rest of your friends to load into the game.

“I think the post-it is the most accurate, but the egg is the cutest.” You said mindlessly, smiling when Hinata’s bright orange character hopped off one of the benches at the top of the screen. You left Nishinoya so you could chase around Hinata instead, running circles around each other in excitement over your matching stemmed helmets.

Nishinoya grumbled as he selected the raw-egg to cover his helmet. “Should I buy a child?”

“Are you ready for that?” You asked as more people finally started loading onto the ship. “It’s a lot of responsibility and what if we both die?”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m not ready to be a single father.” Nishinoya left the computer and came to run in the circle with you and Hinata in the center of the lobby.

“You guys are disgusting,” Tsukishima’s condescending voice filtered into your headset. You rolled your eyes and glared at his black spacesuit with the devil horns. So rude.

“Let people be happy, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said while his dark green character joined your dance circle. You couldn’t explain it, but the wet floor sign felt extremely fitting for his character.

“I’ll help you raise your child if (Y/N) dies Noya!” Hinata said brightly into your headset.

“Thanks, Shoyo!”

“No, I want to help him raise the child!” Tanaka yelled into the mic causing you to jump in your chair. You quickly opened your audio settings to turn his volume down. “I deserve it. I’ve known them the longest.”

“No way, I already called dibs!”

“Guys, you can both help me! The more parents the better!”

“There is no child.” You said, pinching the bridge of your nose,” and stop planning for me to die.”

“Sorry.” They all said in unison.

“But one day…” Hinata added ominously. You blinked at the screen confused and opened your mouth to respond before deciding it better to write that off entirely.

“All right, I’m starting the game,” Yachi said before the countdown appeared at the bottom of the screen.

“Wait, is Kageyama AFK? He hasn’t said anything.” Hinata asked, concerned.

“I just don’t want to talk to you, idiot.”

“Ouch.” Nishinoya snorted.

You muted your mic after a small giggle. The red crewmate appeared to shush everyone and you couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed your face when ‘Imposter’ appeared in red letters afterward. Beside your character stood your partner in crime, Hinata, his name also bled red for the violence to ensue. You nodded to yourself confidently. Hinata wasn’t the best imposter, but you two were pretty in sync so you weren’t too concerned.

The airship loaded and everyone appeared around the center lunch table in cafeteria. You debated what you should do… maybe hang out with Hinata and attempt a double kill? You two could pull that off. Maybe just try some fun vent kills like you’d seen streamers do recently. Too bad Nishinoya ran over to you and began dancing beside you, clearly trying to get you to follow him to the right side of the map. It would probably be cruel if you slowly garnered his trust to use him as an alibi…

You followed him out of cafeteria. He began a wire task so you pretended to watch the bar go up until he excitedly danced beside you when he was finished, happy he’d cleared himself as an innocent crewmate-not that you hadn’t known that already. You went to fake asteroids, standing beside the chair while hoping to all that was good the green bar would move on time, when it did you leaned your forehead on your desk with a heavy sigh. Nishinoya’s character ran circles around you, likely thrilled that you were both crewmates, before continuing down the gray halls to the oxygen room. You took a moment to feel guilty before shaking it off.

While Nishinoya went to do another task in O2 you noticed Tsukishima running down the hall, alone, so you briefly separated and went to follow him. Unfortunately, Tsukishima decided to go to navigation all alone which left you with absolutely no choice. You strolled up to him and pressed the lit up ‘KILL’ button in the bottom corner of your screen. The animation had you snapping his character in half which you were a little too satisfied with-you could practically hear him raging from across town.

Once complete, his little half body flopped over and you snickered to yourself in your room. Then you remembered Nishinoya probably heading this way and you quickly self-reported the body.

“Naviga--.”

“Somebody killed Tsukki!?” Yamaguchi yelled so loud you had to lift your headphones up.

“Oh no,” Kageyama said, sarcastically. “What a loss.”

“You don’t sound upset…” Yachi pointed out.

“Should I?”

“Yes! He’s our friend and he’s dead!” Yamaguchi yelled.

“He’s not actually dead Yams.” You smirked, propping your elbow onto your desk and leaning into the palm of your hand.

“Sometimes I still hear his voice…” Nishinoya sniffled into his mic and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Where was it?” Hinata asked.

“Navigation.” You said calmly. “Me and Nishinoya were doing tasks. I saw him go down to nav and I wanted to see if he died in the murder zone and he did.”

“Makes sense,” Nishinoya said casually. “So, who else is there that killed him?”

“Makes sense? She literally said she followed him to the murder zone.” Tanaka pointed out. You purse your lips because you did kind of say that, yeah. You should probably phrase things better.

“I saw her do asteroids though and she saw me do other tasks so we’re good.” Nishinoya scoffed at Tanaka’s accusation. “She couldn’t possibly have murdered Tsukishima if she did asteroids.”

“Okay… but what if she faked it?” Tanaka suggested.

“Are you suggesting my girlfriend would lie to me?” Noya said, gasping dramatically. “How could you dude?”

“The absolute disrespect.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Tanaka’s brown character. He knew too much.

“What if they’re both the imposter?” Yachi suggested.

“No way. If Noya was imposter half of us would be dead already.” Hinata said, with a chorus of agreeance following him.

“Well, who else is around here?” You asked.

“I’m almost there,” Kageyama said.

“Almost there or running from the crime?” You asked, excited to bring someone new into suspicion.

“Dun dun dun,” Hinata shouted.

“I don’t know if this means anything, but Hinata was at card swipe for a really long time…” Yachi added quietly.

“I just failed it like ten times, okay?” Hinata said sadly.

“Yeah, that checks out.” Kageyama snorted. “This idiot would fail a card swipe.”

“Let’s just skip, but Kageyama and (Y/N) I’m watching you,” Tanaka said.

“Good,” Kageyama responded.

The round ended with no one being ejected, thankfully, but you were a little concerned about the amount of suspicion being thrown at you. Hopefully, Hinata would keep Kageyama alive, and if the opportunity presents itself Tanaka would be your next target. Until then, you ran around the table to Nishinoya and danced beside him until he was ready to move. It was most important that Nishinoya believed you were innocent. You needed a strong ally, especially now.

As you waited patiently for him to complete another download task you kept the sabotage map open contemplatively before Hinata decided to shut off the lights for you. You tried to stay close enough to Nishinoya that he would see you in his limited visual area while you run to electrical, that is, until you saw Yamaguchi trailing behind you. Once you all entered cafeteria you pulled a quick u-turn under the cover of darkness and stabbed Yamaguchi’s poor unsuspecting crewmate body several times in the back before returning to Nishinoya and helping fix the lights. As if nothing had ever happened.

After fixing lights like the innocent, fake crewmate you were an air horn went off in your ear to signal Yamaguchi’s body being reported. You fell back in your chair with a whine before unmuting your mic.

“All right, this is good,” Tanaka said, a few muffled smacks heard as he excitedly smacked his desk.

“Disrespectful, dude. What did Yams or Yachi ever do to you?” Nishinoya asked. You raised an eyebrow because you hadn’t even noticed Yachi’s crossed off character. “They’re the two nicest people on earth.”

“Yeah, that’s sus.” You said with a smirk.

“Super sus.” Nishinoya agreed.

“What? No. I mean, I was on my way to the button because I literally watched Hinata jump into a vent when I found Yam’s body. Which means we have two pieces of evidence now.”

You cursed internally and glared at Hinata’s bright orange character. He would get caught venting.

“Dude, seriously?” Nishinoya laughed.

“What? I didn’t vent.”

“I watched you.”

“Oh yeah? How can I vent when I’m not even the imposter?” Hinata said confidently. You rolled your eyes.

“Damn, he’s got you there dude.” Nishinoya snorted. “Solid defense Shoyo.”

“Thanks, man!”

“Don’t defend him!” Tanaka yelled. “Unless you really are the second imposter!”

“What? No! Where’s your evidence? Give me proof!”

“Yeah, give him the proof!” Hinata added.

“Where were you when Yamaguchi was killed?”

“How the fuck would I know?” Nishinoya asked, astonished. “We were only in cafeteria when the lights were off and I didn’t see a body.”

“We?” Tanaka sounded deep in thought. “When the lights were off…”

“Are we just forgetting about mister thank god Tsukishima is dead?” You said, pulling attention toward Kageyama. “And last I checked only Noya and I fixed the lights.”

“Oh yeah, where were you, Kageyama?” Nishinoya asked.

“I’m where the boxes are.”

“You gotta learn the room names, man.” Hinata sighed.

“Maybe this is a tactic!” Tanaka shouted.

“Oh, and self-reporting isn’t Tanaka?” You asked.

“I don’t know. Tell me about the last round?” He responded confidently. Oh shit.

“Hang on, we gotta vote. We have like 15 seconds.” Nishinoya pointed out.

“Vote Hinata. He vented.” Tanaka said, repeatedly.

Everyone voted quickly and Nishinoya even apologized to Hinata, so you sighed before going with the majority. You had officially lost your partner. On the bright side, if you could take out Tanaka you could probably convince Nishinoya that Kageyama was the last imposter. You just had to play this last bit safe.

You waited a bit before going in the direction Tanaka had run after, but your last few rounds backfired when Nishinoya trailed after you. You needed to get away from him long enough so you could kill Tanaka without him seeing. You broke away from him for a moment and hopped into the nearest vent, jumping around until you found an area close to where you thought Tanaka had last been running around. When you popped out fear immediately shot into your heart when Kageyama’s dark blue character peaked into the top of the screen.

You weren't sure if he saw you or not, but you couldn’t risk it. He had to die.

You chased after him toward cafeteria and just barely got close enough to hit the kill button when he entered the room. You let out a breath of relief when the kill animation popped onto your screen and you watched your character repeatedly stab Kageyama in the back. You thought you were safe, so when the air horn for a meeting played you shot up in your chair. Apparently, in your tunnel vision, you hadn’t noticed Tanaka lurking nearby.

“It was Tanaka. I watched him kill Kageyama!” You shouted the moment your mic unmuted.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Nishinoya’s voice was filled with genuine confusion and you almost felt guilty. Almost. Maybe after you won.

“No. She chased him down, sawed him in half, then tossed him away like it was nothing. I saw it all.” Tanaka shouted.

“You can’t even saw people.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m so confused,” Nishinoya whined. “It’s not Kageyama? But (Y/N) was with me like the entire game.”

“Exactly, so how could I have killed anyone?” You said excitedly. Nishinoya had no suspicion of you which was perfect. You could definitely win this.

“You were at every place where the bodies were found.” Tanaka pointed out. “She couldn’t have been with you the entire time. Like when she self-reported the first body?”

“I didn’t self-report.”

“Or when the lights went out?”

“I guess not.” Nishinoya said. You hit your desk lightly in stress. “She also wasn’t with me this whole last round...”

“Exactly!” Tanaka shouted. “And she was really adamant about putting suspicion on Kageyama.”

“Cause he was suspicious!” You threw your hands up. Since when was Tanaka so good at this game?

The line was quiet for a moment. “(Y/N) he’s making a lot of sense.”

“Okay, but he also reported Yams' body,” you countered. “Easily could’ve been a self-report there too.”

“That’s true…”

“Dude, why would I have tried so hard to get Hinata out if I was an imposter?” Tanaka asked, exasperated. “It makes no sense. It has to be her.”

“He could’ve lied about seeing Hinata vent!” You shouted, deciding to throw hail mary’s in your moment of demise.

“Why would I do that?”

“My head hurts,” Nishinoya whined. “(Y/N) I don’t know...”

“Okay. You should vote for Tanaka because...” You said while racking your brain for a solid defense. “I… love you.”

Nishinoya blew air into the mic. “Fuck dude, that’s a good defense.”

“No it’s not you--” Tanaka groaned. “Dude, for like five seconds I need you to stop being a simp and just big brain with me here.”

“But she’s saying nice things to me,” Nishinoya whined.

“Dude, c’mon you know who it is.”

Nishinoya groaned into the mic. “Okay, (Y/N) you’d never lie to me, right?”

“Never.”

“Are you imposter?”

“...I love you so much and I’m so happy you’re in my life and--”

“She just fucking admitted to it!” Tanaka screamed in the mic. “Don’t let her get into your brain. You’re better than this.”

After a brief silence, Nishinoya finally voted and you stood out of your chair when it revealed Nishinoya and you beneath Tanaka’s brown character. The mixed shouting in your headset went completely ignored by your own excitement while you celebrated, thanking Nishinoya with loving words.

“You fucking simp!” Tanaka yelled. “I can’t believe you. I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry,” Nishinoya’s groan came muffled in your ears. “I just couldn’t do it.”

“Good job (Y/N)!” Hinata cheered. “I never win as an imposter.”

“Cause you vent in front of people,” Tsukishima said.

“It was an accident! I meant to sabotage doors and I misclicked.”

“Oh well, we still got a victory.” You said proudly while spinning in your chair.

“You used me,” Nishinoya said, disappointed. “For personal gain.”

“I’m sorry, Noya,” you smirked as your characters all slowly hopped off the chairs in the main lobby. You danced around his yellow character as everyone loaded in. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the second game began, you let out a sigh of relief when the light blue confirmed you as merely a crewmate. This time you could legitimately just goof off with Nishinoya and complete tasks together while hopefully avoiding death.

After the map loaded you once again made your way to navigation together, keeping guard while the other was busy, and dancing circles every time you completed a task. When you eventually had entered the murder zone you trusted him to watch your back while you did your last task on the right side of the ship. Your first mistake apparently. You audibly gasped when the kill animation appeared on the screen. Nishinoya’s yellow character snapping your poor little crewmate’s neck in plain sight, leaving its little half body lying there for all to see. It’s poor singular bone popped out and bare.

You stared blankly at the screen while Nishinoya danced around your body for a moment, knowing that your ghost was hovering over it before he went down and hopped into the vent. You flopped back into your chair watching as Tanaka’s character ran into the room, stared at your body, and ran out. You could picture him cackling at the situation from here.

When a meeting was finally called, not even for you but Kageyama, Nishinoya pretended to be upset that “someone dares to kill you” and other bull shit. You crossed your arms and glared at his stupid yellow imposter self.

You supposed you deserved being used as a cover-up from the grave.

He better at least win.

#haikyū!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yū #hinata shoyo #kageyama tobio #yachi hitoka #tanaka ryuunosuke #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya scenarios #nishinoya imagine

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

The city he had chosen to stay in was terrible.

It was noisy, it was crowdy, and the constant heat was making Levi go insane.

And while the city’s loudness and the amount of people in it made it easier for him to blend in, get lost in plain sight and all that bullshit, the heat— the fucking heat, gods, it was killing him.

Levi didn’t like cold weather, despised all the layer of clothes he had to put on just to get to the nearest supermarket and buy instant noodles, he hated the snow with passion he carried since his childhood, he thought that winter was the worst season of them all.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The heat was making his skin crawl. Even in just tank top and shorts, he felt too hot. Drinking cold water, taking cold showers, none of it helped. Levi turned the air conditioning in his room on maximum, but the motel he was staying at was shitty, his room was shitty, and, as a result, the air conditioning was shitty too.

Levi was sick of it. His skin was constantly clammy and sticky, he couldn’t sleep at night, there was never enough air around him, and walking around the city during the daytime made him seriously consider whether he was actually a vampire.

The sun… could it really burn so much? It didn’t used to be so unbearable before.

But apart from that… Levi was starting to accommodate to his new life.

Leaving his hometown behind, he decided to let go of his previous habits too. He got himself a job - not a respectable, but at least an honest one.

Being a janitor in a shitty bar after spending most of his life as a thief was almost… therapeutic.

The vomit on the walls and piss on the floors were enraging him to the point of seeing red and sometimes he wanted to break a leg of every asshole who didn’t know when they had enough and went to make a mess in the toilet, but… working there was therapeutic nevertheless. And a definite improvement too.

At least, his life wasn’t in danger anymore and he didn’t have to run away from police.

Although, he wouldn’t mind running away from a certain police officer. Perhaps, this time he would let her catch him. Perhaps, then his heart would stop clenching in pain every time he thought about Hange.

Perhaps, then he’d be able to let go.

He tried letting go, forgetting about Hange, just as he tried to put behind his life of crime. Unfortunately, putting Hange behind proved to be that much harder.

Some nights, when the heat was especially bad, he felt especially lonely and the shitty whiskey at the shitty bar he was working at didn’t do the trick, he’d snuck a look at how Hange was doing. He’d open his phone, scroll through a news feed. If he’d get lucky, there would a recording of some press conference with Hange at the center of it all.

Apparently, she was doing well. Her shoulder was almost healed, although sometimes she still winced, when gesticulating too frantically. But the paleness in her face that was present when he had visited her at the hospital was long gone, and at the few press conferences that allowed Levi to catch a glimpse of her, Hange’s cheeks were adorned by healthy, rosy blush. Her hair was just as wild, just as messy, and her voice carried the same inspiring conviction.

Whether Hange found out the truth about him or not, he didn’t know, but she had moved past Ackermans’ case and during the time Levi was getting used to his new life she alredy solved two robberies.

She was working on a new case now, something about a young girl who had mysteriously vanished. Levi didn’t bother to find out the details, the name Krista Lenz meant nothing to him, but nevertheless, he wished that Hange would succeed. She deserved that, her quick wit and determination were meant to be recognized and celebrated.

That bright, happy smile on her face, the one she was sporting during the conference that discussed one of the solved robberies, it suited Hange so much. Levi wished she’d wear it more often.

He wished he’d see it more often, but well… some things just weren’t meant to be.

Strangely so, Kenny didn’t contact him even once. No obnoxious phone call, no mysterious messages or weird gifts. There was no sign of him for almost two months, and Levi would have started worrying, would have tried to contact the man himself, if… if Kenny wasn’t Kenny.

His uncle was like a cockroach, Levi was one hundred percent sure that nothing and no one could cause him any harm. And if there was someone who actually could do this, Kenny would have harmed them back, ten times worse.

Still, the thoughts about Kenny lingered at the back of his mind, and memories about Hange did the same irritating thing. It made Levi feel awfully nostalgic sometimes, borderline melancholic. And fairly quickly he found out there was nothing he could do about it. No amount of whiskey or dirty toilets could chase that sadness away. That sadness was a new part of his new life.

Maybe, it was better than always living on the edge.

Luckily, he didn’t feel so lonely all the time, his colleagues at the bar made sure of that.

And while his boss, a bald, gross man called Shadis definitely wasn’t a joy to have around, two others – a barmaid named Sasha and waiter Connie were so much better.

They were annoying in their own right, of course. Sasha had a weird obsession with food, Connie’s sense of humor left much to be desired, and together both of them were so damn loud, but for brats who barely stepped into adulthood, they provided a fairly enjoyable company.

They let Levi take his mind off certain things, and they kept him from falling into the abyss of loneliness and depression.

They also opened up the side of him that Levi wasn’t even aware of.

Connie had once mentioned in a passing that his mother had died years ago, and whatever happened to Sasha’s family, she wasn’t living with them anymore, sharing a small flat with Connie and another guy, Jean.

In Levi’s humble, unbiased opinion, Jean was a self-centered, pompous jerk. He wasn’t working in the bar with his two friends, and instead had involved himself in some shady shit with a local gang, which apparently terrified the whole neighborhood. Levi wanted to tell the boy that he was a fucking idiot, if he thought that messing with criminals was a good idea, but he doubted that Jean would listen. Luckily, Jean wasn’t around too often and visited the bar only, when he was miserable about some girl he had a crush on, or whenever he wished to get drunk for free.

It was a good thing that Levi barely interacted with Jean. The boy was so annoying. And also – too damn tall.

He didn’t hear about any other friends of theirs, and as far as Levi was aware, there was no actual adult watching over Sasha and Connie, so… he kinda, unwillingly, of course, took that task upon himself.

Obviously, he made sure to remain discreet. He didn’t want the brats to know that he cared, because he didn’t, naturally.

He claimed that he simply cooked too much food and the leftovers would go to waste, if he didn’t give them away, when he brought them pasta or soup. He mentioned his insomnia and pretended that long walks helped him sleep better, when Sasha and Connie went home after midnight. He lied about having experience in bartending when Sasha got stomach flu. He said that he was just accidentally passing by their apartment, when later that day he visited to check on her.

The brats were too dense to notice his subtle attempts anyway, or so Levi hoped. They had never brought it up, and that had to mean something, right?

And that time when Connie tried to fix Levi’s air conditioning, or when Sasha brought a whole jar of his favorite tea, or all those evenings when he felt blue and homesick and they helped him clean the bar and took him out to dinner, surely it was nothing more than a coincidence.

The brats had their moments, Levi had to admit, and sometimes their presence was almost pleasant.

But sometimes they made him wish they shut their mouths and never opened them again.

Right now, that desire was more prevalent than ever.

“Say, Mister Levi,” Levi hated when they called him that, it made him sound even older than he actually was. He told them to stop it, many times. But the brats didn’t care. He slowly raised his eyes to show that he was listening. As soon as he did, Sasha put a fist underneath her chin, forgetting about the important task of cleaning the glasses to stare at him curiously. “Do you have someone?”

“Someone?” he had an inkling of what Sasha was asking him about, but he didn’t wish to discuss that with the damned brats. He didn’t wish to discuss that topic with no one, ever. Because… there was nothing to discuss.

“Yep, someone!” Connie chimed in. “Like, hm, a significant other?”

“A beloved!” Sasha agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

Levi felt the migraine coming. “I don’t have any kind of someone,” he gritted. “And I never did.”

“Really?” Sasha tilted her head to the side, looking so skeptical that Levi was ready to get offended. Was he not convincing enough? “I thought you do. It’s just that sometimes—”

“When you think no one is looking!” Connie swiftly added.

“Your face seems so much softer, and your scowl almost disappears, and you look—”

“Just like Jean when he thinks about Mikasa.”

Who the fuck was Mikasa? And what face was Jean making? Levi couldn’t be making the same one, could he?

“But if you say there is no one,” Sasha sighed, returning to her task of cleaning glasses. Wearing the same sad face as she did, Connie went back to gathering dishes from the tables. “Then I guess we’re wrong.”

Damn right, they were. There was no one, and whatever face they thought he was making, it couldn’t possibly be related to a certain police officer from the other side of the world.

“And if there is no one you have to think about,” Sasha winked, like she was seeing right through him. “Then let me make you a drink. It’s a new recipe I found, it involves tequila, vodka and—”

Levi raised a hand to cut her off. “Just surprise me.”

Sasha nodded and went to work. She frequently let Levi taste her new cocktails. He was the perfect man for it – he didn’t get drunk too fast, and he was the only Sasha’s friend who tasted something better than cheap whiskey or a beer from a local supermarket. He also never shied away from telling her when the drink was fucking awful.

Sasha hummed as she mixed the drink, some song Levi vaguely recognized from the radio. She was smiling too, she did that frequently, and something about her, be it the ponytail that jumped up and down when she was excited, or her easy-going, cheerful personality reminded him of Hange.

These days, lots of things reminded him about Hange. There were days when almost everything reminded him of Hange. It seemed like today was exactly a day like that.

“You’re making that same face again,” Sasha whispered, as she handed him the drink.

Levi scowled, glaring at the girl, as he put the glass up to his lips. He finished it in one go. “It tastes like shit,” he told her. “Put it on the menu.”

Sasha beamed, refilling his glass. “Knew you’d like it.”

“By the way, boss,” Levi wasn’t their boss, as far as he was aware, their actual boss was getting drunk in his office, all the while mumbling incomprehensible gibberish about some Carla. But Levi had to admit, being called boss was so much better than the godforsaken mister Levi. "Are you free tonight?"

Levi was free every day and every night, when he wasn’t working in the bar with Connie and Sasha. It wasn’t like he had any friends or even acquaintances beside two brats. However, saying it out loud would make him look even more pathetic that he actually was. So Levi shrugged, and said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Depends.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Connie asked, looking at him with a smile so hopeful that Levi was ready to say yes right that instant. God, they already had him wrapped around their fingers. How embarrassing. At least, Kenny wasn’t here to witness it. He’d have a laugh of his life, if he found that Levi was adopted by two teenagers. “Jean is away on a trip, so we’d be glad to have some company.”

“He went to see his family?”

From the way Sasha bit her lip and Connie refused to meet his eye, Levi knew – their friend didn’t go on a simple trip. He sighed, taking a sip from his glass and letting the bitter liquid burn his throat. Admittedly, it was none of his business. He shouldn’t care about it, he wasn’t their father, for god’s sake. But… a friendly piece of advice wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Your friend plays with fire. And if he continues doing so—”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie crossed hands on his chest defensively. “He is smart.”

Levi couldn’t help but scoff. “Just being smart is not enough. There will always be someone smarter.”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie repeated stubbornly. “He’ll be fine.”

Maybe, he will, maybe, he won’t. At the end of the day, Levi had no say about it. He might call them brats, but they were already adults. They were allowed to do as they wished. They were bound to make some mistakes.

“Tell him to be more careful. Otherwise, you’ll suffer too.”

Levi left it at that, not wanting to antagonize Sasha and Connie any further. Besides, it was time to open the bar, or the drunkards all across the block would start banging on their doors. Worse than that, Shadis might come out of his office too. His sour face was the last thing Levi wished to see.

“Let’s get to work,” he nodded to the kids, and took his drink to the dark corner of the room, where he usually spend his shifts, waiting until the patrons start making a mess he’d have to clean.

Surprisingly, the evening came and went, but there was no mess for him to deal with. No one vomited, no one shitted all over the toilets. No one spilled their beer on the floor, or even a table. Were their patrons starting to learn how act like people, and not pigs? Or were they so well-behaved because it was just the beginning of a week? Or did the heat finally get to them and turn them just as slow and tired as Levi himself felt?

However, the weather was more merciful that day. The temperature was still high, too high for Levi’s taste, but just after the sunset the wind was starting to pick up, the storm slowly brewing. During the smoke break outside the bar, Levi could see the lightening, illuminating the far edge of the sky. The rain was in the air, and he allowed his lips to curl up in a pleased smile. Perhaps, he’d finally be able to sleep through the whole night and not toss and turn, feeling like the bed turned into a scorching pan.

When he went back inside, the bar was almost empty, just a few regulars left, nursing their half-finished drinks.

“Do you want to have pizza or sushi?” Sasha asked, as he started sweeping the floor. “We can order both if you wish.”

Levi rolled his eyes with a disgusted tsk. “Eating so much takeout is unhealthy. Let’s finish here and go to supermarket. I’ll cook you something decent.”

Connie yelled a loud yahoo, while Sasha squeezed him in a suffocating hug. The heartwarming moment was cut short, when the door to the bar was thrown open with a loud bang.

It let inside the gush of wind and drops of freezing rain. With a broom still in his hands, Levi turned sharply to the door, ready to rip the unlucky drunkard a new one, the bar had closed almost an hour ago, the sign was right there for everyone to see.

All harsh words died on the way between his throat and his tongue. Levi froze on the spot, and in the silence that followed the lightning strike was as sudden as a gunshot.

Sasha’s distressed cry and Connie’s shocked sob put him out of the stupor.

Throwing the broom away, Levi moved, catching the falling, bloodied boy into his arms.

“Jean!” Sasha was the first one of the two to snap out of it. She ran to Levi, with trembling hands lifting up her friend’s face.

“What the fuck had happened?” Connie kneeled next to them, his eyes wide and scared as he stared at Jean.

Jean looked awful, there was no way around it. His cheeks and jaw were bruised, his right eye was already swollen, and his light brown hair had too much red in it.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, too weak and injured to offer something more than a shaking whisper. “I’m sorry, I’ve fucked up, I didn’t know where to run and now they’re coming here, I didn’t mean to do this, I didn’t think, I—”

He could continue that nonessential ramble for the rest of the night. But if they, whoever those they were, were truly coming, Jean and his friends didn’t have that much time. Carefully, Levi lifted Jean’s arm, wincing when he saw that the boy’s shirt was bloodied too, and threw it over Connie’s shoulder. Then he took the key from the back pocket of his shorts and thrusted it into Sasha’s palm.

“Take him to my room in the motel.”

“And you?”

Levi pushed the hair away from his face, already hating himself for his next words. Kenny was right, he cared too much, and it was his biggest weakness, one that would probably get him killed one day. Perhaps, that day had already arrived.

“I’ll stay here and buy you some time.”

“No!” Jean protested, frantically grabbing Levi by the elbow. “It’s my fuck up, you shouldn’t get involved, you don’t know—”

“I do know. And unlike you, I can actually take care of myself.”

Perhaps, he was too harsh, but it was necessary. Jean had fucked up, and whatever he had done, he had to own that mistake and learn from it. That was the only way he would survive through another one of his mistakes.

“Hurry up,” he told Sasha and Connie. “I’ll meet you as soon as I’m finished.”

Thankfully, they didn’t try to argue. Connie wished him luck and Sasha made him promise to come back, and that was it.

As soon as they had left, Levi hopped behind the bar counter to pour himself a shot of whiskey. He lighted up a cigarette, waiting for the front door to swing open and Jean’s persecutors to arrive. Hopefully, they’d do it without guns blazing.

He was just finishing the first glass and was thinking of getting himself a second one, when the mighty kick almost as loud as the thunder outside pushed the door open. Three men tumbled inside a second later, their faces transformed by fury into caricature masks.

“Where is that son of a bitch?” roared one in the middle, their leader, Levi assumed.

Levi was in no hurry to answer. He took the last drag of the cigarette, meticulously put it down against the surface of an ashtray. Then looked at the men in front of him. “The bar is closed. There is no one here but me.”

“Stop fucking with us!” the asshole on the left shouted. “We saw him run inside!”

“If that fucker isn’t here, perhaps we should look around for his friends,” the third man offered. “I know they’re working here.”

So there was no way around it? Levi sighed, walking from beyond the counter. “Just so you know,” approaching the men, he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t condone violence.”

One of the thugs started laughing, the other two immediately followed. Levi didn’t expect any other reaction. The men were burly, large, they definitely weren’t smart.

“What are you going to do to us, midget? Do you seriously think you can beat us up?”

The insult was followed by a punch, a careless, blundering one. Levi effortlessly dodged it, delivering a vicious kick to the stomach of his attacker. The man - who upon the close inspection had yellow teeth and reeked of cheap alcohol – staggered. He caught himself at the last second, holding onto nearest table with white-knuckled desperation. Levi hit again, this time with his knee. With a gasp that turned into a groan, the man fell onto the ground.

Luckily, he stayed there, and Levi turned his attention to the other two.

The one who stood at the left attacked instantly, aiming his enormous fist at Levi’s jaw. There was an unfinished bottle of whiskey on the counter right behind him, and Levi grabbed it, smashing it against the man’s head. The resulting sound was loud, almost deafening. Levi tried to forget about the mess of spilled whiskey on the floor and let himself enjoy that pleasant sound for another moment.

That was a slight miscalculation on his part, because the last man apparently was armed with knife, and he swung it without hesitation. Levi jumped to the side, but wasn’t quick enough. The knife’s edge kissed his cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind it. A mere second later, the knife was in the air once again. Levi was ready for it this time, but as he prepared to take a swift step back, his ankle refused to budge. He looked down to see that one of the defeated men was back in the game, still laying on a floor, but holding Levi in one place. Levi quickly dealt with him, using another leg to kick the man’s head. It took him no more than a moment, but it was enough for him to lose sight of his last attacker. Whatever plan of retaliation Levi had, he lost it, when the knife embedded in his forearm, making him hiss and cuss. Irritated, he roughly grabbed the hand that held the knife, twisting the arm at the wrist.

There was a loud crack, then the even louder scream.

Not too elegant, but, at least, it did the job.

Yanking the knife out of his arm, Levi threw it away, allowing it to clutter on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he snarled at the men, who weren’t laughing anymore. On the contrary, their faces were panicked, frightened. They pathetically scrambled to their feet, pushing each other to get outside as fast as possible. “And don’t come back!” Levi shouted to their backs.

When the door fell closed, Levi slumped back against the counter. The spot on his cheek was tingling unpleasantly, his arm was hurting like a bitch, and the whole bar had turned into a mess – the shards of glass and spilled whiskey were all over the floor. The blood from his arm was creating a small puddle too.

Levi viciously cursed and grabbed a towel, making a make-shift bandage. It had to do for the time being.

One mess was dealt with, and now another was awaiting him. He’d be lucky if the dirty floor would be the biggest of his troubles tonight.

But somehow, Levi knew that it was just the beginning.

***

Levi never considered himself to be a philosophic kind of person, he never pondered on the meaning of things, never felt the desire to look at the problem at hand from all possible angles, never reflected on his feelings and emotions.

He did however notice that the small room he had rented in a shitty motel at the edge of the city never felt to him like home. It was a place to live, it had a bed to sleep, it held some of his belongings, but it wasn’t a home, it didn’t provoke in him the feeling of belonging that he found inside the walls of his and Kenny’s old apartment.

He spent a little more than two months, living in that shithole, and never once he thought – I’m home, never once he felt – I belong right here.

But something very similar was blooming in his chest, when he passed the threshold of his shitty motel room and fell right into the arms of Connie and Sasha.

Sasha started cleaning his wounds right away, while Connie rushed to get the new bandages for his bloodied arm.

“You should have been more careful,” Sasha chided, and, fuck, he really got adopted by a couple of kids just like that.

“We could have dealt with this ourselves,” Connie said, and then, after a little pause, added, “Probably.”

Levi hummed and resisted the urge to ruffle the hair on their heads. He didn’t have that much affection for the little shits. Probably.

Just as they finished, Jean appeared, unsteadily walking out of the bathroom. He stopped not long after, leaning against the doorframe. Patched up and cleaned, he still didn’t look like his usual, confident and complacent self. Now he reminded Levi of a puppy who was thoroughly and viciously kicked. His hair was now clean of blood, but the shirt was still covered in red patches. Levi would have offered him one of his own t-shirts, but… on Jean’s lanky body it’d look more like a crop top. Or a child’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Jean murmured, not meeting Levi’s eyes. “I didn’t know it’d lead to this.”

Yeah, they almost never know. Levi sighed, there was no point in scolding boy any further. He had realized his fuck up already, his buddies from the gang made sure of that.

“What the hell happened?” Levi asked, his back turned to Jean, as he went to prepare the tea for all of them. It would help to soothe some of Jean’s injuries, and it would also help to relieve Levi of the building tension in his shoulders.

“I… wasn’t quite ready for this life, I guess,” Jean sat down on a bed, covering his face with hands. “There is a guy I’ve been working with, he stole some drugs he was supposed to sell, and other gang members found out and decided to punish him, make an example out of him, but that guy… he was my friend, sort of? We hanged out a lot, and I just couldn’t see him get hurt like that…”

“Oh my god!” Sasha’s hands flew to her face and her mouth opened wide. “Did you get beat up because you tried to protect Marco?”

Connie snorted. “I see you’re getting over Mikasa pretty quickly.”

Behind his hands, Jean’s face started to gain color. “I just helped a guy out.”

“And didn’t even ask for a kiss after the heroic rescue?” Sasha teased.

“There wasn’t much time for kisses after the whole gang started running after us.”

“You poor thing,” Connie patted Jean’s head, sharing a mischievous look with Sasha. “Didn’t even get a kiss for all the trouble.”

The two boys started to bicker, and Levi watched the scene, feeling the pounding inside his head increase. It’d be a long, long night. The one he’d have to spend sleeping on a floor, because there were three brats in his room and only one queen-sized bed.

He raised a hand, putting a stop to the argument that was starting to raise in volume.

“Is the other guy alright?” he asked Jean, as he handed him a cup, filled with steaming tea.

Jean accepted the drink with a grateful nod, but didn’t answer the question right away, staring inside the cup thoughtfully. “He managed to get out of the city. The assholes that beat me up caught me just after he got on a bus.”

Well, that was certainly good news. The only one they received since the beginning of this evening.

“You have to run away too, preferably for quite some time. Those guys won’t forget about you so easily. Do you have a place where you can hide?”

“Well…” frowning, Jean rubbed his neck, “My parents have a summer house…”

“Excellent, does anyone know about it?”

“No, not even these idiots,” Jean answered, pointing at Sasha and Connie.

“Then take these idiots, because your gangster pals know, where all of you live and work,” Levi grumbled. “And get out of here first thing in the morning. Spend a few months in the countryside, wait until this shitty storm is over.”

“And what about you? Now they know about you too.”

What about him… good question. And a very easy one to answer. He’d have to change cities again, luckily, he already had some experience with that. Sure, it was an inconvenience, but… better than live his life and have to constantly look over his shoulder, or die in some dirty alleyway. Perhaps, he’d be able to return some day, when the tensions were long over.

“I’ll leave the city,” he told them. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You had to run away before?” Connie asked, awe written all over his face. “So cool!”

“And you beat up all these guys for us!” Sasha agreed, adoration shining in her gaze.

“You aren’t just a janitor, eh?” Jean stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Levi saved from answering by a loud shrill of the phone.

Everyone in the room tensed, Levi felt his heart pounding inside his chest, a relentless boom, boom, boom. He wet his lips, his throat suddenly too dry, and stood up.

“No!” Jean grabbed his arm, stopping Levi from picking up the phone. Levi understood his panic, it was the middle of the night, who in their right mind would call him at this time? Who would call him period, all the people Levi knew in this city were sitting next to him. Unless, it was Shadis who got out of his drunken stupor and decided to have a friendly chat with a janitor from his bar?

And if it wasn’t Shadis, then…

Acutely feeling his every heartbeat, Levi pulled his arm out of Jean’s grasp. Swallowing that persisting lump inside his throat down, he put his hand on a phone handle. Slowly, holding in his breath, he lifted the phone and put it to his ear.

“Is your name even Levi? Or was that another lie, you asshole?”

That voice. Her voice. Levi helplessly fell back in the armchair behind him.

“H-hange?” the crack in his voice was heard and analyzed by a bunch of kids, who now all stood beside him. Levi waved them away, drowning out the intrigued murmuring, and focused on a person on the other side of the line.

“You still remember my name, I’m flattered, Ackerman,” ah, so she found out. Not surprising in the slightest, but disappointing nevertheless. But how did she find out? And when? And why she was calling now? And how she managed to obtain the number of a motel he was staying at? So many questions, Levi wanted to ask them all at once. He didn’t even know where to start. “And just a piece of friendly advice, next time you go into hiding, don’t go around asking police officers on a date.”

Well, that was one question answered. Only one hundred remained.

“Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No, unfortunately,” Hange bitterly replied. “I need you, Ackerman. For work,” she added, before Levi could get any ideas and just before his heart started racing like crazy. “Take the first flight back to city, if you don’t want me to drag you out of there by force. I’ll be waiting for you in the airport.”

Hange was going to end the call, Levi could practically see her finger hover over the button. Before she did, he cried out, “Wait!” and then, much more calmly he added, “What do you need me for?”

“Your uncle went missing. I need you to help me find him.”

The line went dead immediately after that. It took Levi another moment to pull himself together.

Kenny was… missing? Kenny, his ruthless, unstoppable uncle? And Hange was looking for him? Too much was unknown, too much was unclear, too much was yet to be explained.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t find the answers here. Well, one problem was solved then, he didn’t have to change cities anymore. He’d just have to return home.

“So.”

Just a short word, but so much meaning was put in it. With a feeling of dread, Levi turned to face Sasha. He shuddered at the sight of her wide, shit-eating smile.

“Hange, hm?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair.

“Hange is your someone, right?” Connie excitedly exclaimed. “Your Mikasa?”

“Hange is his Marco,” Sasha corrected, earning a vicious curse and a middle finger from Jean. “I guess it’s all over with Mikasa.”

It was all over with Hange too. There was nothing with Hange to begin with. And there would be nothing, because apparently she hated him now. For a good reason too.

Fuck. Kenny, Hange, the brats, they all caused Levi a massive headache. And there was no running away from it, they’d find him whenever he ran.

Perhaps, it meant that he had to stop running. And come back home.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he told the kids. “A long journey is ahead of you. And ahead of me too.”

“You’re leaving? To your Hange?”

“Hange is not my someone, I’m just leaving,” Levi grunted, turning off the light. “Go to sleep before I knock you all out.”

Thankfully, they listened and got on a bed without a word of complain.

“It’s good that your Hange found you,” Sasha mumbled, already sleepy. “Maybe, now you won’t be so sad anymore.”

Sasha seemed to fall asleep immediately after, not waiting for Levi’s answer. Or, perhaps, she wasn’t interested in it.

Soon Connie was out as well, and even Jean, after a few of tosses, turns and more than a dozen pained groans managed to settle in comfortably and fall into deep slumber.

Levi didn’t get so lucky, the thoughts about what tomorrow would bring swirling in his mind and keeping him awake.

But, well… at least his melancholy and homesickness wouldn’t be a problem anymore. After two months of being away, he was going home at last.

Strangely, the prospect didn’t seem that thrilling.

#remember when i said that sasha and connie are my literal favorites? yeah it's a chapter dedicated to that #levihan

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Imagine being Tenzin's eldest daughter and dating Bolin which Tenzin isn't very pleased with. So Tenzin makes it his mission to keep you and Bolin apart which just means the two of you find sneakier ways to be together.

Part Two here

Tenzin got back to his house and for once it was quiet, confused where the small army he shared his house with was he approached his second eldest daughter Jinora. "Where's korra?" Tenzin asked. "With Asami". "And Ikki and Meelo?". "With uncle Boomi". “And your mother?”. “Out with Aunt Kya”. Tenzin smiled everyone was taken care of and he could finally relax. "And y/n and Bolin?" Tenzin asked relaxing into his chair. "They'e in y/n's room" Jinora shrugged and Tenzin jumped up "with the door closed? Y/n" he bellowed pushing the door open with air bending. "Okay okay im sorry" he heard you yell and Tenzin sighed having your boyfriend stay here was making him age faster.

You and Bolin were in your room relaxing on the bed preparing to watch a movie. For once you didn’t have to babysit your younger siblings or train so had rushed off for some privacy with Bolin and your dad almost kicked the door down. Your dad was insanely worried about leaving you and Bolin alone despite the fact you were dating and Bolin was the sweetest guy in the world. Bolin had been trying to show you the mover he was in for week but you never had a spare moment where you could be alone with him. So when your dad had gone out and left you and Bolin with no task it seemed like the perfect time. You were determined your dad wouldn’t stop another one of your dates but of course he managed to. When your door flew open you sighed and called back you’d leave it open as per your dad’s many rules about you and Bolin. You looked to Bolin worried this would ruin the date but Bolin didn’t seem to mind. The movie started and you moved closer to Bolin to lean against him and he accomodated you hugging you against him. You and Bolin were just getting into the movie, despite the noise your family was making throughout the house when your father knocked on the open door and walked in. "Y/n its getting late, i think you and Bolin should get ready to go to sleep soon so he should go do that in his room soon". You nodded at your dad in reply so engrossed in the film you didn’t realise he hadn’t left. Tenzin coughed and you both looked up to see he didn't look impressed. "Ow you mean now?" Bolin asked and Tenzin nodded "well yes i think that'd be best". You blushed as Tenzin stood waiting glaring at Bolin. Bolin jumped up obediently while you pouted annoyed. Bolin paused the film and gathered his things and smiled "we can finish the movie tomorrow". You nodded "i suppose" and Bolin went to step towards you when Tenzin actually growled. A literal noise escaped his throat at Bolin daring to step closer to you. You sighed but Bolin just smirked and left shooting you a smile. Tenzin watched him go staring into his back and then turned to your door and fixed two bells around the door handle. "Dad!" You cried "what is that?". "Nothing just a decoration...". "You're doing it so you’ll know if i leave my room! Do you not trust me?". "I trust you y/n but i do not trust teenage boys! And i have to do my duty as your father! Having your boyfriend under the same roof..i have to take precautions". "But you didn't do this for Mako and Korra!". "Yes well Korra is older than you and Mako is more responsible than Bolin". You groaned and Tenzin coughed "you weren’t going to break the rules so this shouldn’t be an issue for you". You rolled your eyes "fine whatever...can i go to sleep now?". Tenzin nodded "i am only doing it because i love you y/n, if you have children you’ll understand". You huffed and Tenzin frowned "well goodnight y/n". "Goodnight dad" you said exasperatedly as the door closed but you didn’t plan on sleeping. Your dad hadn’t put bells on your window so as soon as you heard him go to bed you got ready. You gathered what you needed and climbed out of your window before airbending onto the roof. You carefully climbed across the roof to Bolin’s room and landed outside his window. You knocked on Bolin’s window film projector in hand and saw the curtains swing aside as Bolin realised it was you. "Y/n" Bolin grinned hanging out of his window "what are you doing here?". "Well we didn't get to finish the movie because of my dad so i figured we could now without him knowing?". Bolin hesitated for two seconds before grinning "yes come on it!". It had only been lightly raining but Bolin still wrapped a blanket around you before bringing you back to your prefered spot on the bed. He bustled around getting the movie ready and the secret snacks Tenzin didnt know about before jumping down next to you.

The film finished and Bolin looked at you anxiously "so what did you think...i wasn't sure if it was too far fetched and could you tell i couldn’t do my stunts properly and i didn’t look that great in that scene with the royal guards...". "Bolin" you said grabbing his shoulders "it was great! You were great in it, your stunts were amazing, your acting was really good and you looked well..." you trailed off blushing "basically it was amazing and i really enjoyed it!". "Really?" Bolin asked and you nodded. Bolin seized you in a hug and it made you blush he valued your opinion so much. "Im so glad you like it" he smiled putting you back down "your opinion means a lot to me" he blushed and you smiled. "Yours too Bolin" you told him "you're one of the most important people to me". Bolin's blush grew and he looked down his eyes slightly glazed. Bolin smiled and took your hand "you're pretty important to me too y/n" and kissed you softly. Bolin was always so caring and affectionate he just always made you feel loved and safe. He never pressured or rushed you, he was the best man you'd ever met. You broke away blushing and smiled at him before sighing "i should probably go". Bolin frowned "are you sure i mean it's not even that late...plus it's raining really heavily outside you could get a cold or get blown off the roof! Or lost". "Lost? My rooms practically across from yours!" you smirked but Bolin shrugged "i still don’t think you should risk it". You smirked "so what i stay here until the rain stops...that could be all night". Bolin shrugged "i just think it’d be safer it probably won’t be all night" he argued but his tone told you he hoped it would be. You smirked and nodded "fine..i guess i can stay for a bit longer and see if it stops". Bolin grinned "that's a very good decision y/n i must say". "Stop it" you pushed him before blushing as he grabbed your hand. You smiled and leant into him "i might nap while im here for a bit, if that's okay?". Bolin nodded "of course" and gathered even more blankets to keep you warm. You smiled getting into the blankets and Bolin got in beside you. With a bolt of lightning the rain came down ever harder. You noticed and Bolin pretended to look away. "i didn’t do anything!" he said when he felt you looking at him. "Mh hmmm?" You asked laying beside him but you were smiling. "Promise" Bolin smiled putting an arm around you. Bolin was so broad you fitted against him easily and curled up against his side. Bolin wrapped his large arm around you and you felt do safe and warm with the rain pounding against the window. "Goodnight y/n" Bolin smiled kissing your forehead and you smiled closing your eyes. "Goodnight Bolin".

You vaguely heard voices and groaned trying to sunk further into the warmth and Bolin. You buried your head against his chest and fell back to sleep when suddenly Bolin’s door was thrown open. "Y/n" Tenzin screetched and you and Bolin jolted awake. Bolin let out a yelp as Tenzin stared his eyes bulging. "You didn’t put bells on my windows?" you offered and your father turned even more red. "I’ll be putting bars on your window young lady if you dont stay in your assigned room!" He yelled and to your dismay others flocked to the room. "Did you find her?" Asami asked before smirking "ow...i see". "She's in here?" Mako asked "but thats Bolins room" before trailing off as Korra stumbled in too. "Well you did want Y/N to help rebuild the air nation" Korra smirked before she halted as Tenzin spun on her making the avatar gulp. "Is there something funny about my little girl growing up?" Tenzin yelled at them "no? Didn’t think so! Y/n get out of there right now and march yourself to your room this instance". You distangled yourself from Bolin and all the blankets and stood up red faced. "Sir it wasnt y/ns fault..." Bolin tried but Tenzin silenced him with a look. "You are grounded young lady and if i ever find you in his room again i'll...i'll take away your bison!". "Dad...." you groaned but he shook his head "no buts now to your room". You rolled your eyes but did as he said.

Later you sat in your room avoiding your dad's wrath when you heard someone near your window and opened your suprisingly still unlocked window to see Pabu. "Pabu?" You asked as he scampered in and dropped something on your bed. You grinned to see it was a note from Bolin with a wild flower attached "so guess you're our go between huh Pabu" You asked the fire ferret as you fed him a treat as payment. Pabu made a happy noise and you smiled before turning to Bolin’s note. "Sorry i got you in trouble but it was worth it" he wrote "think your dads gonna have us under surveillance for a while but i'm sure we can work around it. I'm game if you are and next time we wont get caught. Love Bolin". You smiled hiding your note and wrote a quick reply before handing it to Pabu who ran off to give it Bolin. You picked up the flower Pabu had also brought and smirked, you had the best boyfriend ever. Father be damned you’d find a way to see him.

#Bolin #lok bolin #bolin x reader #avatar bolin #bolin imagine #legend of korra bolin #legend of korra #tenzin #lok tenzin #air nation #lok mako #lok korra #lok asami #lok imagine #legend of korra imagine #avatar korra #avatar mako #avatar asami

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drxwsyni · 4 years ago

Text

Red Filter︱Yandere Villain!Deku x f!Reader

Synopsis: Cameras can be made so small nowadays. Perfect for a villain’s viewing pleasure, looking upon the star of the show―you.

Anonymous asked “Can I request Yandere Deku (villain or not you decide) where he's bugged his darling's home and is watching them shower/have a bath?”

a/n: I made this a 2 in 1 submission for the @bnhabookclub’s Celebrating Deku event, as well as the Hero Camp Bingo event!

Bingo Masterlist

Prompts:

Celebrating Deku - villain AU

Hero Camp Bingo - caught masterbating

Warnings: smut, non-consensual recording, mentions of knives and blood, yan. themes

3.1k words

Deku didn’t need the knife―a thin butterfly model that was skillfully twirling between his fingers. Flipping back and forth, back and forth. It was a passtime of sorts, a distraction, rather than his go to weapon while on the job.

But for others, the blade was sometimes more threatening than the force of his quirk. So in a way, it did have its uses.

Dried blood was a nuisance though, clinging to the reflective metal and taking away from the entrancing glint as it caught the light. He reached for a handkerchief laying haphazardly on the large mahogany desk in front of him. Halfway through the motion, Deku paused.

The show was about to begin.

An artificial glow emitted from the laptop screen atop the desk, lighting up the features of his face. A live feed played on the screen.

There you were, looking absolutely stunning even clad in your retail work uniform. What he wouldn’t give to take his knife and rip the material from your body, exposing what he was so patiently waiting to see.

But such patience would always be rewarded, a fact he was very familiar with.

Deku’s eyes stayed focused on the display, tracking your motions with intent. He knew every single action you would take, right down to the last detail. You padded into the bathroom, making him shift the feed so the microscopic camera in there was full screened.

Expectedly, you began your routine, and he mentally checked off each task as you moved.

You took off your watch, unclasping any jewelry and placing it on the counter. A makeup wipe was pulled from a sealed package, and you gently removed the product from your face.

Deku’s gaze was practically glossed over as he took in the sight of you. He mumbled to himself, “Should be...skincare next?”

A bottle of facial cleanser was taken from the shelf next to you. Meticulously, you washed off any lingering residue from the makeup remover, and the dirt that had settled into your pores throughout the day. Next was the application of various creams and moisturizers. Deku knew each and every product you used off by heart, and the order in which you went through them every night.

Face thoroughly tended to, the next step in your routine was to be completed. But you gave pause, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Deku smiled at the change in attitude from you, “...And you left your robe in the bedroom this morning. Always the forgetful one.”

You pushed aside the towels hanging off the back of the washroom door, to no avail.

Once again, he used the concealed cameras throughout your apartment to follow you into the bedroom. And there was your robe, which you swiftly grabbed off the back of a chair and returned to your previous position. Now slinging the soft covering over a free hook, you settled onto the edge of the bathtub.

The feed continued to grant Deku access to all of your time spent healing from a long day. Like watching the same movie over and over again, but never failing to entertain him greatly.

You put the plug into the drain at the base of the tub, turning the knobs and letting hot water begin to flood the bottom of it. Still sitting on the edge, you began to wait for the water to rise to that consistent high amount that he’d observed plenty of times before.

But of course, he ran into a brief problem.

Phone out, you were tapping away at the screen. From where the camera was angled, Deku was unable to see exactly what you were doing.

It was a good thing he always made sure to have a plan B, all the way through Z.

A desktop monitor was powered up with the click of a button. Deku pulled up a few windows, a look of satisfaction forming across his face. An additional display showed the active screen of your phone, which he’d also taken the time to bug.

You’d opened the social media page of one of your friends.

Deku’s jaw tightened.

The guy was the arrogant type―techie and too confident in his sub-par abilities. He hated him, but you loved him. In a friendship sense, he hoped.

He was invited over to help you install a security system in your apartment a few months ago. You caught on to the few items that had unceremoniously gone missing. Not that Deku was trying to keep his actions entirely unbeknownst to you.

Really, he simply couldn’t help himself. You just looked so adorable with that worried little face of yours.

And so Deku could forgive you for putting up those useless defences. But naturally, he couldn’t forgive this ‘friend’ who helped you set them up.

His grip on the butterfly knife tightened.

The bath was filled to a standard you deemed acceptable. You reached across to stop the stream, taking a stand when the water stopped falling.

Now for the main act.

With tiredly sluggish motions, you began stripping out of your work uniform. First your top, then jeans. Your hands gripped the clasp at the back of your bra, undoing it and dropping the undergarment onto the pile of discarded clothing on the floor below you. And slowly, you shimmied out of your panties, letting them pool at your feet before stepping out of those completely as well.

Deku’s heart clenched slightly at the exhausted expression on your face. He would be more than happy to help you relax if he was there.

You stretched your arms a bit, then grabbed an elastic to pin your hair atop your head. The action gave Deku a mouth watering view of all your curves that were clearly on display. So plush and grabbable―his hands itched at the thought of holding you in place.

He continued watching with bated breath as you finally stepped into the steaming water. A look of pure euphoria enveloped your face as you sunk into it, submerging your body as a breathy sigh escaped your lips.

As the tensions slowly left your being, Deku leant back into the leather chair he was seated in. His eyes trailed up and down your bare form, the feeling of his pants tightening at the delectable sight not going unnoticed. A sheen of water clung to your skin, highlighting your figure in all the right places.

This was by far his favorite part of the day. If he could afford the time when he wasn’t ruthlessly hunting down heroes who were so foolish enough to get in his way, loyally accompanied by his lackeys, he would gratefully pull up a live feed and bask in the view you unknowingly gave him. It was therapeutic―watching you unwind having similarly soothing effects on him.

And so he paid close attention as your hands travelled delicately over your body, lathering the lush skin up in soap. You paused a few times, using the slipperiness the product provided to massage certain tense muscles. Those in your biceps, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs, working the tension out of your calves.

Deku thought to himself―did you know he was watching? Putting on such an entrancing show like that, how could he not grow a little antsy at the sight of you?

You were just so perfect for him. The way you spoke, your personality, your figure. You shouldn’t have to take care of yourself with no help. He had servants who could do that for you, or even better, Deku could tend to your aches and pains personally. And there were more ways than just your methods of massaging to get you to relax, how he would love to show you.

Maybe if you were just a little more observant, you’d find the already impressive presence he had in your life. If you did, the two of you would finally be able to move onto the fun part.

Deku’s wandering thoughts halt as you place the bar of soap down, slowly washing the residual suds off your body.

You leant against the wall of the porcelain tub, sighing deeply and throwing your head back.

Well, this was new.

The look on your face, it seemed...irritated.

Your expression was relatively blank, but the pursed lips and light drumming of your finger on the edge of the tub gave you away.

And what could be going on in that mind of yours now?

Coming out of this brief meditative state, your eyes shot open. Deku followed where they landed.

The showerhead.

It was fixed next to the handles of the main tap, and your gaze remained on it―conflicted and contemplative. And then you moved.

A smirk crept across Deku’s face.

Your hands reached for the showerhead, pulling it from its situated spot. You turned the handles, changing the water flow so it went through the device in your hand rather than the main spout. Moving back, you leaned once again against the tub. Fingers fiddled with the controls, the stream setting shifting to a force that was steady and direct, but gentle enough that he assumed was the right amount so as not to make you too sensitive.

He could make you feel better than a showerhead. No―he would.

You dipped the device below the water, parting your legs to accommodate for its size. The flow came into contact with your needy core, and it sent your face scrunching up at the sensation.

He ate up the sight of you getting yourself off, resting his head against a hand propped up on the arm of his chair. It was a satisfying feeling―knowing how naive you were to his onlooking, and seeing you so intimately. Unfortunately, the rippling of the water distorted his view. With your hips bucking and the stream of water interrupting the once stillness of the surface, Deku grew mildly annoyed.

So of course, he noted that soon enough he would need to make up for the occurrence. And he would take his sweet, sweet time with you, to make sure nothing could hide you from his view.

You writhed against the flow of the showerhead, angling it back and forth over your clit. Sometimes you’d let it drop just a little lower, before growing impatient and returning to the previous ministrations. The forcefulness against your sensitive bud had your nerves firing off with hot sensations. Deku could tell you were getting close―the way you squirmed in the water growing more intense.

Desperately, your hips rutted against the impactful force. And yet, when you did slump back down, it wasn’t because you finally found release.

You huffed in frustration, teetering on the brink of orgasm, yet failing to push yourself over. A crease formed between your brows as your eyes shut tightly closed.

Aw, the poor thing, Deku thought amusedly to himself.

The villain chuckled slightly in a somewhat sadistic manner at your semi-pout, his head tilting as he continued to observe you unable to seek release. Your helpless need to cum had his cock throbbing, but he held himself back from tending to his own needs. After all, there’d be more than enough time to take care of not just his own pent up desires, but that of yours as well―after he tied up a few loose ends, of course.

Still unsatisfied, you upped the intensity of the showerhead’s stream.

You threw your head back in a silent scream, taking the sheer intensity as it came. Your chest was heaving, legs shaking as the heat pooling in your stomach grew. In a final effort, your hand dipped underneath the surface of the warm water. Two fingers spread apart your folds, exposing the most sensitive part of your heat. The sounds of your quiet whimpers spilled out of the laptop’s speakers, it sounding like music to his ears.

And then the hand flew over your mouth as you finally convulsed in while hot pleasure, riding out the waves of your orgasm. Even then, Deku could still hear the moan that escaped your lips as you succumbed to the pressure hitting your cunt.

He noted your attempts to stifle the noise. Cute, trying to keep your neighbours from hearing. That’s fine, he’s the only one who should know what you’re doing anyways.

Deku didn’t even realize the thin and nearly unnoticeable layer of sweat that’d developed against his forehead, disregarding it as he watched you come down from your high and weakly returning the showerhead to its stand.

That must’ve done the trick, you finally looking completely and utterly blissed out as you slumped back into the cooling water. Your eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment he feared that you would fall asleep amongst the sheer exhaustion your orgasm put you through. It would only mean he would have to pay you a visit, pushing your inevitable meeting with him to a closer date.

Deku began to grow fond of that thought, until the shrill noise of a text message notification rang from your phone.

Your head lifted, seeing that the device was laying on the counter, completely out of reach. You sighed in defeat, being unable to leave the message unread. The drain was unplugged, and the sound of the water escaping the tub came through the speakers of Deku’s laptop.

With lazily slow movements, you clambered out of the bathtub. He observed your legs still shaking, making you look like a fawn ready to collapse under its own weight. A small bubble of frustration grew inside of him as you pulled on the robe, obstructing his vision from your tantalizing body.

Your still dampened hands grasped your phone, unlocking it and peering at whatever notification had come through.

And so he acted similarly, pulling up the feed that your bugged device was showing him on the monitor. The messaging app was opened to that same worthless guy you chose to associate with for some ungodly reason, and who you’d questionably regarded on social media before bathing.

The text was short, but not sweet.

> you up?

It was late in the night, your work shift forcing you to change your sleep schedule to accommodate the routine. Deku would never make you conform to such an unhealthy lifestyle. Your little friend didn’t seem to care about you the way he did, only making his anger directed at the man grow. He leant forward, awaiting your response.

The feed showed you typing away, a few seconds later sending a disappointing response.

< Yeah, why?

Deku scoffed at how fast the guy replied, the debasing answer only making him seem even more pathetic in his mind.

> come over, i need u

The villain anticipated your reaction. You paced a few times in the small bathroom, stopping with a pensive face to grip the edge of the counter top. Taking a few moments to decide your next move, you laid the phone down atop the marbled surface.

Deku was excruciatingly aware of even the most minute changes in your behaviour. So he couldn’t help but pick up on the way your thighs pressed together, or how you chewed on your lower lip anxiously. The smirk that was plastered on his face for so long fell.

You picked up the phone.

He watched you type.

< On my way.

You didn’t hit send though, instead letting your finger linger over the button that would seal your fate. Judging by your actions, Deku could tell you were unsure of what to do.

If you couldn’t decide for yourself, he would do it for you.

With a few clicks on his monitor’s keyboard, Deku erased the man’s contact from your phone from where he sat, deleting the conversation you were having with him as well.

The amused look returned to his face, seeing your confused reaction. Realistically, it would’ve been safer for the both of you if he remained patient in his ways. Sooner or later, he would get you to come to him. Yet, the notion of these questionable connections you held didn’t really sit right with him.

Even if he got rid of the guy, which he would, there would be others. There are others, Deku has seen the way people look at you. Ways that warranted the most painful punishment he could inflict on them.

And so he resolved―he was done waiting. It was time for you to get to know him.

Deku picked up a burner phone, starting a conversation with your contact. His ring clad fingers danced across the small keyboard, sending the message with a triumphant feeling forming inside of him.

It was something he knew would get a good reaction out of you.

> Did that showerhead feel good?

He laughed a bit at the way your expression dropped, gaze falling upon the unknown ID showing up on the screen of your phone. You physically froze in place, and for a moment he felt a little bad for scaring you.

That concern quickly dissipated though, finding your fearful look absolutely adorable.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

< Who is this?

He shook his head at your questioning. All in due time, sweetheart.

> You look so cute, all scared and shaking like that.

He paused for a moment before sending another text.

> Why don’t you make that face for me in person?

You stumbled back, knees colliding with the tub and forcing you to sit back on the edge. Through the live feed, Deku could see the not so subtle way your hands trembled as you gripped the phone.

His own device went off, and more than once.

< What does that mean?

Deku gave no response.

< Please answer me.

You sure are cute when you plead like that.

< ...Who the hell are you?!

A devilish grin stretched across Deku’s face. With a press of a button on the desktop, one of his lackeys was entering his office. The man stood at attention, awaiting orders from his leader.

He spoke in an almost lazy tone, like the importance of the situation didn’t really mean all that much to him. When in reality, it meant the world to him―you meant the world to him. “Post half a dozen men outside her apartment complex. You know what to do if she tries for the cops.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

Deku remained focused on you, still terrifyingly expecting a response that you’d never receive. At least not through text. He regarded the lackey without looking up, “I’m heading out for a bit. Just gotta take care of something. Don’t call me unless there’s an emergency.”

“Of course, good luck.” With that the underling exited the way he entered, letting the large and heavy wooden doors close with a thud behind him.

A final fleeting glance was spared to regard you over the live feed. He soaked up the way you still had your eyes trained on the screen. Your attention was all for him, and nobody else. Just the way it should be.

Nimble fingers shut the laptop closed. Amongst all the detailed information Deku had memorized about you, he engrained the documented history of your phone’s second most recent contact that was displayed on the monitor as well. He turned that off too, sucking in a deep breath of air, and exhaling with purpose.

He flipped the butterfly knife closed, calmly pocketing the weapon.

#yandere bnha #bnhabookclub #yandere midoriya izuku #yandere deku #yandere my hero academia #yandere izuku #yandere mha #yandere writing #yanderecore #yandere x you #yandere #tw non consensual recording #tw knives #tw blood

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