#but also going to break down and grind down this block of wood so i can focus on carving details | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raggaraddy · 3 years

Text

Intruders.

Request from @dramaclub-thin: Mafia BTS where the reader is shot for/because of them.

A/N: Another long one. This one doesn't have so much of the worried reaction, cause I wrote it to fit the Mafia! Jungkook character. It's still fun though ^-^ Thanks again for the request. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Yoongi

Jimin

Taehyung

Summary: When a loose end breaks into Jungkooks house with guns drawn, you get a first-hand lesson that maybe Jungkook isn't as invulnerable as you had thought.

Trigger Warnings: Graphic violence, gun usage, blood, murder.

Jungkook

Mafia! Jungkook

Fighting to get free, you're kicking your legs. Squirming. Squealing as you shove your hands against Jungkook's chest, pushing him back as hard as you can. Tears starting to fill your eye line.

"Stop, stop, stop," you shout, with no effect. Struggling harder.

"Admit it!" He yells back, a smile on his face.

"Never," You scream. Not able to hold it back anymore. Your screech morphs into forceful laughter as Jungkook continues to tickle you. Your cheeks aching from how widely you're smiling. Your sides hurting as you keep thrashing for release.

"Admit I could beat up the Hulk, and I'll let you go." He insists again, pressing you down with a massive grin.

"Okay, okay!" You squeal, finally conceding. Groaning in relief, when his fingers stop tickling your stomach. Your limbs dropping down to rest. "You could totally kick the Hulk's ass." You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

"Damn right I could!" He bursts into laughter also. Easing back with a sigh now that he no longer has to hold you still. Neither of you phased by the movie that started the debate still blaring in the background.

Roughly you punch your fist into his chest, intentionally knocking the air out of him. Taking advantage while he is caught off guard to push him flat onto the carpet beside you. Straddling his lap, you lean over him pinning his arms to the floor before he has a chance to argue. Not that you think he would. The fun-filled smile doesn't leave his face for a moment. Completely amused by you, while you try your best to put on an intimidating act. Trying to stop yourself from smiling again.

"Jeon Jungkook. You cheated." You playfully scold, "And if you can't have a grown-up discussion, then you can't do other grown-up things either." You accentuate your point by grinding down. Feeling his hips push up as you tease him. Lifting up right away, shaking your head as you remove the contact. "Nah uh. Cheaters don't get that." You smirk.

"Don't be mean just cause I won." He runs his tongue inside his cheek. His gaze showing desire and a want for you to continue. But you're not done toying with him.

"You didn't win." You poke your tongue out, rocking your hips a single time more, "Confessions under duress are not admissible anyway."

"No, but it's good leverage to have." He answers a little too honestly and without thinking. Not entirely talking about your play fight anymore.

Chuckling awkwardly, you shake off the train of thought that wants to evaluate what he just said. Not wanting to let your mind remember that part of him right now. Trying instead, to return to your spirited banter. But he gets in before you.

"Nope," He easily breaks out and overpowers your hold wrapping his arm around your waist, carrying you as he stands up. "you admitted I'm stronger than the Hulk, and I'm never gonna let that go." Bending down, he throws you over his shoulder, slapping your ass to tease you back.

His shoulder digging into your gut stops you from taking a full breath or making a snippy comeback. So you slap his ass in retaliation instead.

"Come on Kitten, you have to give me a prize for winning." He purs suggestively, carrying you out of the living room into the foyer.

He's going to take you upstairs, but you don't make it to them before both of your heads snap towards the entrance. A flurry of gunshots exploding just beyond the front door. The commotion silencing as quickly as it started.

Jungkook slings you off his shoulder. Becoming another person in an instant. Purely focused. Opening the coat closet, he pulls a Glock from his jacket.

"Get upstairs, now." He barks.

You don't have to be asked twice, running to the stairs. Gasping as the garage door next to the steps opens, two hooded men storming in with guns drawn. Jungkook reacts quickly, firing past you. Shooting one of them, missing the second who ducks instead of firing back.

At the same time, blowing open to the left of you, the front door is kicked in. Swinging wide, four more masked men rush the house. Firing rapidly and wildly. Scarcely missing Jungkook who is moving preemptively and is 3 steps ahead. Running forward he shoots the second man in front of you. Grabbing your arm, dragging you over their dead bodies into the garage with him.

Shutting you in just as bullets explode through the wood door at your back.

Jungkook forces you to keep up, throwing you behind the car. The automatic shots continuing to decimate. The four-wheel-drive being the only thing that keeps either of you from getting shot.

Panting and on the verge of tears, you're crouched beside Jungkook. Watching him, waiting to react to anything he says. Knowing he is all that stands between you and death. But also knowing that with him in this mindset he could do just as much damage to you as one of those other men might.

The gunfire stops. Distorted voices shouting behind the door's remains. Jungkook cautiously raises up, leaning over the hood. He lines up a shot as the door opens warily, taking down another of them. Slouching behind the car as a new wave of bullets comes in response.

In front of you, the shelves covered in storage boxes and the workbench full of tools is ripped to shreds. Things erupting in every direction. Covering you in debris.

Pulling his phone from his pocket he shoves it in your lap.

"Call the first number!"

Your brain is stalling, your hands are shaking, but you follow the order as best as you can. The way your fingers are vibrating making it so much harder.

"What's up Boss?" You can hear the faint sound of his first lieutenant, as the firing ceasing again. Jungkook snatches the phone, speaking lowly and calmly.

"My house is breached and we're under fire. At least 3 guys. Semi-autos. We're held up in the garage and I've got maybe 15 rounds left." He passes the information over precisely. Remaining organized and in control.

"We're 10 out," the first confirms back, yelling orders to people on his end of the phone.

Your head jolts towards the garage door as it heavily clunks, starting to lift along the tracks. Exposing you on two sides.

"Fuck," Jungkook exclaims. "We don't have 10 minutes."

He stands, staying low. Opening the car door, tossing the phone in, followed by you. Your limbs hitting everything as you try to keep up with his pace. Making it onto the seat in an awkward heap.

"Stay down," he growls, slamming it, sealing you in. You're ahead of him this time, already kneeling under the steering wheel. Pressing your chest and head into the seat as flat as possible.

Inside the car, you can only hear the sounds of blasts for a few moments. Heavy things being thrown in every direction amid tense silences.

Outside the car, Jungkook fires off 3 shots, aiming for the legs he sees as the garage opens. The angle is wrong, and he doesn't hit them. Having to retreat back. Throwing the workbench down, using it as a meagre form of barricade. Blocking himself into the corner, hunched behind it. It's barely wide enough to protect him at the front and on the side. The height of the desk only just covering his head. He aims over the bench, hoping to keep the front two from coming in with suppression fire.

However, his attempt is unsuccessful. As he raises up, a bullet wings his right arm. Involuntarily dropping his gun, he shouts in pain. The Glock falling on the wrong side of the table.

It only takes him a second to compose himself, lunging over to pick up the weapon. But it's a second too late.

One of the men charges from inside the house. Booting the table into Jungkook, throwing him off balance. Holding him at gunpoint as he hits the floor.

Briefly, you see the other two men through the window as they pass the car. You're too terrified to move. Your hand cupped over your mouth, muffling the panicked breathes and whimpers that you can't hold in.

Working as a unit, one of the men clears the table out of the way, another picks up Jungkook's gun, while the third ushers him out of the corner and onto his feet, keeping the sights tightly fixed on him.

Getting in his face, the lead man removes his balaclava. Seething hate filling his expression. "You remember me?"

While he isn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, Jungkook is certainly perturbed by the reveal.

It was nearly 5 months ago that he had ordered this man and his family killed. It drew far too much attention when he refused a deal Jungkook made him. So an example has to be set. The man's wife, two children and his visiting brother were murdered in the gruesome display. And Jungkook was told that the man standing in front of him now was also killed. But it seems the men charged with the hit got complacent. They didn't confirm the kill.

Mentally, Jungkook was already recalling the four men on task. If he made it out of this they were going to suffer greatly for their mistake.

Seeming infuriated by Jungkook's lack of fear and stoic glowering, the unmasked man slams his fist into the Mafia King's face. Shouting as he does.

Methodically, the three intruders begin to tear Jungkook apart. He put's up a fight as best as he can, but the men are trained and three against one isn't fair odds in this situation. Knocking him between them, they strike with their knees, fists, feet, hurting him in any way they can manage. Beating him into the ground. Pulling him back onto his knees whenever he drops back or falls forward.

Biting your palm you're trying to stop yourself from crying out as you sob into your hand. You can hear the hits. The thumps from him being tossed around. His groans of pain. The slough of abuse they spit at him while they work him over. Cursing him. Mocking him.

Suddenly, the car door jerks open. One of the masked men dragging you out by your hair. Making you produce an ear-shattering scream. One he silences with a fist to the face. Your body collapsing, slapping into the concrete.

Groaning in pain, your sobs can no longer be restrained. Loudly bawling, tear stream your face, hardly able to breathe as you panic.

Your heart aching as you see Jungkook across from you. Hunched over on his knees, he's gushing blood. It's running down his face. Matting his hair to his forehead with the sheer volume of it. He's splitting it up, his mouth dripping with it. His shirt soaked in it. Flowing down his arm from the bullet wound also.

You'd never have thought you would see your Boyfriend in such a state. You've witnessed first-hand the power he has when he's the one responsible for this kind of damage. In your mind, you saw him as invincible. Unbeatable. A cruel monster driven by hubris that could never be stopped.

The times you'd seen him beat people like this, the times he hit you like this, you had privately desired for him to suffer the same fate one day. For karma to return everything he had dished out.

But now that he was, now that he was the one being treated without mercy, even with it being justified, you can't feel anything but fear and sadness. Regretting ever having wished this upon him.

"Jungkook," you gently call.

He's disoriented. Too many headshots having made him dizzy and unfocused. But your soft voice cuts through all of that. Looking up from the ground to you, his eyes go wide seeing you in harm's way again.

"Y/-" he starts to get up, only to be interrupted and held down. The unmasked man's hand coming down on his shoulder. The barrel of Jungkook's own gun being aimed at his chest as the man hovers over him.

"You know, your guys didn't kill my wife right away." He digs the gun tip into the bullet wound on his arm. Twisting and stabbing into the raw flesh making him grit his teeth to bear the pain. "They shot her where he knew it wouldn't kill her. Then they let her bleed out. While I could only watch. While my kids watched." The pure rage in the man's voice is finally softened. Instead, sounding horribly grieved and agonized over the memory. "Someone like you, you're probably not capable of love," he spits, pushing off Jungkook to stand straight. "But whether you love her or not, I still want you to watch her die."

The words register, but you can't absorb them. You can't react.

"Wait. Wait!" Jungkook yells after him.

Your body is throbbing in terror. Watching him advance on you. Watching him raise the gun at you.

The shot hits you in the stomach.

"No!" Jungkook howls. The two men punting him back down as he climbs to his feet. Extending the barrage of hits to impress upon him that he shouldn't try to get up again.

In shock, you delicately dab at the hole in your side. Blood pulsing out of you. The pain is more than you could have imagined. You can't pull in a full breath. Short gasps are all you can manage. Doubling over onto your hands and knees, you weakly shriek unable to deliver a solid scream.

They drag you by your arm, hurling you at Jungkook, your torso landing in his lap. He clings to you, drawing you in tight. His face twisted in anger.

"Y/n." He growls. "Don't you dare-" he can't bring himself to finish that thought.

"Don't worry darling. It won't take long." The leader says above you, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "You though," he redirects, snarling at Jungkook. "you're gonna die slow."

Not able to breathe and the blood loss is making your head light. The room feels like it's spinning. Your eyes rolling back as they close. The reprieve of rest calling you into unconsciousness. And you can't resist.

With his hand held to your heart and his chest tight, Jungkook feels for a beat. The irregular rhythm assuring him you're still alive at least.

"I hope you really did love her. Like how I loved my girl and my boy. My wife. I hope you can feel that type of pain."

Jungkook is shaking. Unfiltered loathing ravaging his thoughts. A murderous expression concealing his heartache as he feels your pulse gradually start to slow.

Moving begrudgingly like it's his duty, the leader pulls one of the few remaining tools from its place on the wall. Wringing the handle of a large Philips Head screwdriver.

Working together, the three of them rip your unconscious body apart from Jungkook. His efforts to keep you close having little impact. Numerous injuries having sapped his strength.

Stretching him out, holding him down, they pin him with their weight. One of them securing his legs. Another holding his arm and torso, the majority of his heft used to force Jungkook's face into the cement. The leader kneeling all of his weight on his left arm to keep it flat.

As the tip of the screwdriver is pressed into his palm, Jungkook grapples to keep his hand closed to no avail. The shank piercing the meat of his palm. Screaming as the length is stabbed in and yanked out. Hissing through his teeth while the sharp point trails up. Reaching about halfway up his forearm it digs into the muscle. The blade slowly forcing its way into the skin, causing him to roar again.

All at once, a shot rings out. One of the intruders taking a bullet in the back. An assault of gunfire spreading across the height of the garage, sending the other two into a panic. Scrambling for their guns. Releasing Jungkook in the frenzy, who cradles his wounded hand for a moment before jumping on the attack. Finally having sufficient reinforcement to fight back.

Picking up the screwdriver with his good hand, he lunges at the surviving masked man. Dragging him off balance. Straddling his side. Stabbing down and around to drive the tool into his chest over and over. Burying the metal in the man's throat as a final strike. His damaged hand slamming down on the top of the screwdriver, forcing it through the other side of the man's neck.

Some of Jungkook's rage having been vented, he falls away panting watching the man, satisfied as he quickly bleeds to death.

The leader of the assailants, the source of all of this woe, is completely unmatched by the dozen men who suddenly surround him. They don't grant him the opportunity to even raise his weapon, shooting him in the shoulder, knocking him down. Incapacitating him and restraining him swiftly as he tries desperately to get loose.

There are a few seconds when the dust settles, where everything is quiet again. Only the sounds of wheezed breathing and footsteps taking any space.

Apart from the few men busy with securing the house and the area, all of them are at attention looking to assist their battered leader. Wanting to help. Waiting on an order.

"Her," he signals in your direction. "Get her to a hospital."

"You too, Boss." His second lieutenant leans down, helping Jungkook stand. Getting him to solid footing.

"I'm not dying in the next 20 minutes. Let's wrap this shit up first." He dismisses the gesture. Shirking off the pain at risk of appearing weak.

"And this one?" His first aims a gun at the intruders head.

"Patch him up. He's gonna die slowly," Jungkook's voice deepens as he repeats the man's own threat back at him.

His eyes following as he gets picked up and thrown into the trunk of one of the cars. The Mafia leader in him already, concocting ruthless plans in specific detail over all the ways he is going to torture him. And how he's going to silence any doubts about his strength that this attack may have caused.

Carried in another man's arms, you're taken to the back seat of a car. The movement string you awake. The pain keeping you immobilized and dazed.

Jungkook limping slightly follows after you. He presses his hand to your chest again, relieved as he feels your heart still beating, as he sees your eyes fluttering.

Your head laying on the seat, he leans over resting his forehead upside down on yours. "I'm so sorry baby." He whispers. His hands bunch tightly around your arms, pulling at your skin. The war of both sides of him crashing together. His eyes going cold, his breath becoming ragged.

Struggling to remain conscious, your eyes close again. Jungkook's bloody hand slapping down on your face, shocking your eyes back open. Tears instantly returning to your cheeks.

"Don't you dare die!" He hisses. His hand curls around your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "I'm not going to let other people think they can come at me. Take my things. Try to hurt me." He growls, speaking just loud enough for only you and him. "So you're gonna keep living Y/n. Cause until I give you permission, you don't have the right to die."

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts jung jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #mafia jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #jungkook

640 notes · View notes

the-witty-pen-name · 4 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 4

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, smut, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, angst, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official

Lee Bodecker x Reader

Arvin Russell x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! This chapter covers a little bit about her relationship with Arvin and some other things as well. I hope you all enjoy!

I also am having some writer’s block with my Obi-Wan Kenobi miniseries I was working on, so expect Part 3 sometime Sunday hopefully! So sorry for the delay on the final chapter.

Tags and Requests are OPEN

You had lost your virginity in the back of Arvin Russell’s pick-up truck. Your mom and you had gotten into a fight again- you don’t even remember what about. You remember she pushed past you to go outside, while you grabbed the phone dialing Arvin’s number. You didn’t even need to say anything. He just knew. He groggily mumbled out that he’d be there soon. And like the sweetheart he was, he was there in the middle of the night to come pick you up.

Your mom didn’t even look at you as you came out of the house, your coat secured over your pajamas. She just stared out at the dark night and would light herself a cigarette, taking a long drag. He pulled up to your house in his truck and you’d hop in the passenger door. You sat flush with his side, while you cried silently. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped tightly around you, occasionally taking his eyes off the road to kiss your temple affectionately.

There was a spot out by the lake. A small clearing you could get to by driving on an unmarked road through some woods. He would bring you there when you had to get out of your house. Sometimes, he’d just hold you or he brought a large quilt with him and you’d both crawl into the pick-up and lay together watching the stars as he held you close.

Despite everything that happened, that boy has always been good to you. He was the kind of boy who you could wake up in the middle of the night and he’d show up in his pajamas to come get you no questions asked. You both looked a little silly. Him wearing his work coat and boots with his pajama bottoms and sleep shirt, and you wearing your coat over a nightgown you paired with whatever shoes you had by the door.

He’d park the truck and pull you into his arms, holding you close and whispering to you that everything was going to be okay. He’d stroke your hair and press small kisses to your cheeks, not caring that they were salty with tears. You never doubted how much that boy loved you.

He untangled himself from you for a moment so he could grab the blanket off the top of the backrest. He got out of the truck and you followed his lead, he always held out his hand to escort you down. You stood with your arms crossed over your chest and looked at the ground while he spread out the blanket in the pick-up.

You’d both climb in and kick off your shoes, and he’d pull you into his chest, so you could rest your head on him instead of the floor of the truck’s bed- which was still hard despite the blanket. You’d rest your hand on his torso, aimlessly drawing shapes over his t-shirt while he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

Sometimes, he would try to think and come up with stories to make you laugh. Sometimes, you’d both just talk about your future, wanting to get out of this town. He’d make promises of taking you away from all your troubles and at the time, you truly believed he was your future. Other times, much like this time, you’d cuddle up together and enjoy the quietness, just enjoying the contact of being so close. He’d never press you to talk about your problems, but he was always there to just listen or if you wanted help he’d be there for that too.

In-between the whispers of promises and comforting words, you’d both share kisses until before you knew it, you were on top of him, straddling his waist and his hands gently gripped your waist. His touches were always respectful, and he’d always wait for an okay before touching you anywhere. At the time, it was what you wanted.

“I love you so much,” he’d whisper when you broke the kiss to catch your breath. He pressed his forehead to yours and made circles on your sides with his hands. You’d giggle at how his words made you feel, butterflies in your stomach and goosebumps rising on your skin. He’d smile at the sound of your laugh, knowing he was making you feel better.

“I love you too,” you whisper. He leans up and connects his lips to yours again. They’re so soft and his body is warm. He sits up so his back is up against the back windshield and you’re sitting in his lap. One arm holds you close to him, his thumb delicately rubbing the exposed skin of your thigh, your nightgown gathering at your waist in this new position and the other hand holds your face as he kisses you deeply. His touch makes a soft moan escape your lips and it encourages him to grip your skin a little bit tighter.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs, running a hand through your hair, before ducking down to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. The action makes your hips instinctively grind against him and you feel his hot breath on your neck as he groans at the feeling. His arms hold your back and guide you so you’re laying back down on the blanket again, this time his body above yours. He holds himself up with one hand and moves his jacket over with the other for a pillow for you to use. He leans down and presses his lips to yours again. Your hands find themselves under his shirt, sliding up his torso, and you smile against his lips when he shivers at your touch.

“Please touch me,” you beg softly in his ear and almost immediately his body freezes above you for a moment. You bite your lip and nod, noticing his hesitation. “I want this,” you confirm, leaning up and kissing him again.

His hands push up the fabric of the nightgown and then slowly pull your panties off. He was moving like if he went too fast, you’d break. Your hands go to the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it off of him, and then you kiss him again with much more urgency, guiding his hand to in-between your legs. You moan at the feeling of his hand finding your clit and rubbing it in a gentle circular motion. Everything was just so slow and purposeful, and all very loving. He kissed your neck, biting and leaving small lovebites on your skin as he picks up his pace, sliding two fingers into you.

His fingers curl and move perfectly, he knows your body so well and he’s already memorized what makes you react to his touch. He kisses you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth, suppressing the moans that fall from your lips at his touch. He can have you falling apart just with his hands.

“Arvin, I need you,” you plead, feeling yourself getting very close. “Please.”

He pulls his hands away to pull off your nightgown, and he stares when your nipples harden in the night air. You were the more beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He also pulls off his own pajamas and his boxer shorts, tossing them somewhere behind him. His lips attach to yours again, one hand running down your side and the other cupping your breast, massaging gently. “Are you sure, baby?” he asks in a whisper against your ear. You can feel his length teasing your folds and it was driving you crazy.

“I’m sure,” you moan softly, running a hand through his hair. He’s very careful, sliding into you for the first time. It was his first time too, and he was worried about hurting you. You wince at the feeling and he pampers you with kisses until you’re ready for him to move.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, and your legs wrap themselves around him. The pain you felt shortly after turned into an immense feeling of pleasure and you moved your hips, silently begging him to move. He chuckles softly, and begins to move his hips. He’s so focused on looking at you, looking at your reactions, making sure you’re okay.

“You feel so good,” you praise, your nails gently marking his back. You did really, honest to God, love Arvin Russell.

“(Y/N) I love you so much,” his gaze looking down at you like you’re the only other creature in the world. Both of you were so dumbstruck by love, and the harsh realities of the world hadn’t torn you from him yet.

Even after you finish, he wraps you up in his arms, making the moment all about you. He was so attentive and caring. You worry that you took him for granted when you think back. No place made you feel safer than his embrace. He was the most selfless person you’d ever met and he would do anything you wanted. He made you the center of his life, and you were so thankful to have had him, even if the world got in the way.

But you didn’t know if Arvin was the boy you had thought you wanted. When you got a call to come pick-up Tommy, you never imagined that Arvin had it in him to inflict so much on someone. The boy who never once scared you, secretly held the ability to beat someone so severely. You were livid with your brother. You were absolutely furious- but this wasn’t something that surprised you about him. Arvin surprised you. He had this anger bottled down deep inside him, and you were scared of it. You were angry and confused.

You were mad he didn’t talk to you. He just went off and did it. It was shocking. He almost killed him. The beating was graphic, Tommy still not even telling you everything. You couldn’t bear to hear it. You could rationalize Arvin’s actions if it wasn’t your brother. It was someone so close to you, and it made you look at him differently. You were also so upset that he kept it from you. You wished he told you about Lenora, and about Tommy and his friends hurting her. But he didn’t. He kept it from you, and he handled the situation in the worst way possible.

For a while, all you would see when you looked at him was the cruelty he inflicted on your brother, even if you agreed the creep deserved it. But that was family, and you had a more delusional view of your family back then. You held a loyalty to them that they didn’t return to you, clearly. Not a day went by when you wished it could’ve turned out differently.

When he showed up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness, his eyes full of regret, you couldn’t picture anything else than how he must have looked when he attacked Tommy. You can only see how horrible Tommy looked when you had to pick him up off of the ground and carry him to your mother’s car. You knew Tommy deserved it, but he was your brother. You can’t blame Arvin for his actions, and you see that now. But when he was sitting on your front porch steps for hours every day hoping you’d come out and talk to him, all you saw in your mind was the version of him that was sadistic enough to inflict that much pain on somebody.

You wonder if this is why you find yourself drawn to the Sheriff. You knew he had skeletons in his closet, but he was much more up front about his own demons than Arvin. With the Sheriff, his own personal devils were worn on his sleeve, even though he thinks the badge hides it well. With Lee Bodecker, what you see is what you get. Even if he had the secrets the town claimed he had, he was no good. His issues weren’t as nicely tucked away as Arvin’s. With the Sheriff, like yourself, your issues were right there on the surface. You could look at Lee and see the pains of his life. He was not nearly as good at hiding his wrongdoings as he thinks. With Arvin, he was good at pushing it back and hiding it away- and you saw now what happens when he choses to let go.

Arvin would linger in your mind occasionally- thinking about all that could have been with him. But your image of him is tainted, and you don’t know if you could love him again like you had when you were blissfully unaware of this side of him.

You aren’t even sure if this is the reason, you’re finding yourself so drawn to Lee. You had a hard time seeing where these lines were being drawn. Your train of thought hasn’t been rational, you don’t think you ever have been in your life. There’s just something about him that has pulled you in that you couldn’t explain. It was getting harder and harder for you to deny the feelings, as confusing as they were.

“Hi, sugar,” the blonde woman says when you open your front door. She’s wearing the nicest clothes, with white sunglasses, and an animal print coat. If she wasn’t in this town, you thought she’d be a Hollywood star or something. “Ain’t you a doll?” she chuckles, looking you over. “My big brother around?” she asks, looking over your shoulder to obviously peer into your house. The action makes you close the door slightly.

“Who are you looking for?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You look behind her, a man standing on the steps with a camera around his neck accompanied her. The pair of them were a sight, and the two made your skin crawl.

“Lee!” she exclaims, “Lee Bodecker. Don’t he live here? I’m his sister, Sandy. This here is my husband, Carl.”

“One second,” you say quietly, closing the door and locking it, leaving them on the porch. You had an uneasy feeling about the pair of them, that you couldn’t explain.

You run up to his room and knock on the door. “Lee,” you call, obvious distress in your voice.

“What is it?” he asks, door flying open immediately, concern evident on his face.

“Some woman is here asking for you,” you inform him. “Said she’s your sister. Her and her husband are outside on the porch?”

He lets out a sigh, obviously annoyed that the pair would show up. He tells you he’ll take care of it and follows you back downstairs. He heads over to open the door and the two of them step into your house without waiting for the invitation to come in. You see that Lee’s jaw clenches at their actions. He’s upset they’re here. He’s upset they know about you. He doesn’t know what they want yet, and he doesn’t want to find out with you sitting in the room.

“Can you let the adults have some time to talk sweetheart?” Carl says looking over at you, asking you to get lost in your own house. It’s infuriating. Your fist clenches and you see Lee out of the corner of your eye react the same. Sandy shoots you a sympathetic look and Lee silently apologizes, and nods, his way of asking the same. You hold back from fighting with the stranger when you see Lee’s plea. You nod and head upstairs.

“She’s as pretty as a picture,” you overhear Sandy say as you head upstairs. “She your new sweetheart Lee?’

“What do you want Sandy?” you hear Lee ask with a heavy sigh. Out of respect for Lee, and just assuming it was personal family issues, you head to your room- missing the rest of the conversation. You think about how much you can’t wait for those two to get out of your house. You knew it was wrong of you to judge, but Christ that pair just made your skin crawl for a reason you couldn’t explain.

Sandy and Carl had no problem showing up at Lee’s doorstop asking for money. Of course, that reporter Henry Curtis showed up at their door asking for information about Lee, and Sandy didn’t tell him anything. However, she saw this as an opportunity to get something for herself. She thought by not letting the reporter in and sharing information about her brother she deserved a reward. Sandy knew was in the pocket of a lot of people and she thought by threatening to talk to the press she could get something out of Lee. So now, here they are asking for hush money.

“The only reason you’re not behind bars right now is because I chose to look the other way while you’re whoring yourself out,” he points out to her. “I’m letting you walk free and then you have the audacity to ask me for money? What? Because you wouldn’t talk to a reporter? Fuck, Sandy. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“You let me walk free ‘cause it’ll smear your image, Lee,” she points out. “You ain’t doing that out of the kindness of your heart ‘cause you love your baby sister. You won’t win reelection with a sister locked away for prostitution.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he spits angrily. “Don’t test me.”

“If you don’t think I’ll blab all your dirty secrets when shows up again, you’re stupid Lee,” she counters. “I think what I’m asking for is more than fair. Lock me up, I don’t care. I’ll make bail and you’ll never hold public office again.”

He feels pinned. All he can think about is getting these two of his sight and out of your house. In the moment, he cares more about that than the money. Fuck it, he thinks. Having this fight with her while you’re upstairs is not worth it. He gets up from the chair, and heads over to his jacket. He pulls a couple hundred dollars of the envelope in his inside pocket from his most recent visit from Brown. “This is for keeping your mouth shut, and for never coming back to this house- call me at the station instead if you need to see me,” he says, handing his sister the small stack of twenties. She nods, kissing his cheek, before they both leave the house as quickly as they entered.

He’s livid. Adrenaline is pumping and he can’t even think straight. He walks over to the window and looks through the curtain, watching the pair drive away. Sandy is driving while Carl looks to be adjusting the radio. He could punch the wall; he can’t even describe the feeling that overcomes him. He’s just overwhelmed, his mind is hazy. He feels like he has no control of his life and he just wants to drive off and never come back to this fucking town. He’s so mad at his sister for showing up here, and even more mad that she brought that fucking husband of hers. He’s pissed thinking about how Carl spoke to you and he’s angry at himself for not coming to your defense. This is who he is. He’s everyone’s lacky. Just letting everyone use him for their own selfish gain. He was complacent when faced with adversary, he always had been. He hates how he’s let himself fall this far down. He’s nothing more than a pushover.

You assume the pair left when you hear Lee close the door to his room, loudly. It surprises you and makes you jump. You decide to head over to his room and see if everything is okay. You get up from your bed and put your book on your nightstand, heading over to his room. You’re concerned and you know there probably nothing you can do to help. But he was so helpful and attentive when that reporter had you so upset. You needed to offer to return the favor at least. You only knock once before his door flies open, and he’s looking down at you. Anything you were planning on saying is lost and the look he’s giving you makes your mind go completely blank.

You don’t know who made the first move. It was like you both went in for the kiss frantically at the exact same time. The kiss was hungry and feverish. Both of your just pulling each other as close as physically possible. His hands run up your back and tangle in your hair, tugging gently, making you moan. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck and he uses his foot to kick the door closed.

“Fuck, doll,” he groans when he pulls back for air. Both of you are panting, and neither one of you know what you say. You both just look at each other wide eyed, your eyes scanning his wondering where the hell that came from. You don’t give yourself much time to think about it, pulling him in for another kiss by the tie of his uniform.

Part Five

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3

492 notes · View notes

hoe-doroki · 4 years

Text

Siberia

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, drunk sex, marking, biting, love scratches, sloooow burn

pairing: Shouto x fem!reader

genre: pining/angst, smut, fluff

wc: 13.8k

summary: On the field, you and Todoroki are rising stars amongst hero pairings. Off the field…you’re kind of in love with him. After a successful capture, you’re boss brings you in to let you know you’re being sent on assignment in foreign country…alone. Before you leave, you have to act. You’re not partners anymore, after all. And with a little liquid courage you do. Then, the next morning, you still have to leave.

a/n: Thanks so much to @some-kindofgnome, @mindninjax, and @linestrider for helping me out with this beast! Ya’ll are such dears, hyping me up when I was feeling really uncertain about this story. FYI, this story is kind of the prequel to a short fluff fic that will be posted (for bnhabookclub’s secret santa) on Christmas, so stay tuned for that!

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

September

Shards of ice and concrete flew. Ears ringing, you faced away, keeping your uncovered cheeks and hands from the debris. You’d have to turn back into it soon to keep an eye on the villain soon, though. He wasn’t exactly subtle, firing off explosions every few minutes, but he did have plumes of smoke and heaps of destruction on the city street to hide behind. Todoroki had been shooting walls of ice up to protect the buildings, but the road was shredded.

“You okay?” Todoroki shouted, also facing away from the blast.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.”

You turned back with a dry, scratched hand in front of your eyes as you squinted into the wind, streaks of both freezing and hot air blowing past you. You had to consciously keep from grinding your teeth in frustration as the villain cackled at you.

Todoroki and you had a near-perfect capture rate. Usually, the two of you could manipulate his ice to capture any villain, but ice didn’t work so well against a villain with exploding spines on his back. Each attempt to restrain him ended with ice shattering, blown away from the villain’s body in one go. There wasn’t much that Todoroki’s fire could do against a guy like that either.

“Shouto,” you shouted, making your way closer to him. “Make me a big block of ice and then distract him. Be ready to run back and use your fire.”

You saw the question in his eyes for a split second, but he’d stopped asking questions of you early on in your three-year partnership. Questions and explanation took time that couldn’t be spared in battles against villains, so you just had to trust each other.

You hadn’t failed yet.

With a sweep of his arm, you had an iceberg the size of a school bus at your disposal. Todoroki ran at the guy, fire in his hand in order to distract with some close combat—neither of your specialty.

You worked quickly to manipulate the ice into four walls. They didn’t have to be straight or pretty, just sound and close enough in size to line up. Luckily, Todoroki’s ice was the easiest thing you’d ever worked with; it was free of impurities and even in temperature. From there, you could mold it however you wanted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw another one of the spikes on the man’s back explode. Todoroki was able to counter the blast with a wash of fire, but it still knocked him back and set your heart pounding. You needed to end this before either of you ended up hurt with more than the light burns and scrapes you were sporting now.

You took the last bit of ice and lifted it overhead, letting it expand into something soft and irregular—nothing more than densely packed snow. Then, another shout of Todoroki’s hero name had him running back, and you used all your focus to shove the four ice blocks around the villain and fuse them at the corners, sealing them to the irregular ruble on the street.

“Haven’t you learned that ice can’t keep me down?” the villain shouted over your frozen terrarium.

You had learned that, but you’d also learned that he was slowing. He only had a few spires on his back—less than ten—and each one he used had to be regrown. He was regenerating them much quicker than you might have hoped, but it wasn’t as fast as at the beginning of the battle. However the explosions worked, whatever they did to his body, they must have been taking a toll. That gave you a window. A small one, but hopefully enough.

“Fire!” you shouted at Todoroki, pointing to the tall pile of snow you were controlling, moving to just above the ice box.

Todoroki loosed a thin tongue of fire, letting it hit the snow but dissipate before it turned the solid straight to a gas. He knew that what you needed now. The only thing that would bring you both victory, was liquid.

A shelf of water dumped into the room of ice you’d contained the villain in and you returned your focus back to its makeup. You held the ice strong, not letting the new water—warm in places, still nearly frozen in others—melt the walls. Then you shifted some of it to create a roof, leaving only enough room for the man to be able to poke his head out, and some air holes to allow in oxygen. You didn’t need him poking his back out of the water and creating another explosion.

You used your finest degree of control, your tightest concentration to clarify some of the ice, providing a window into your new aquarium. The villain was holding his arms, obviously cold, but he wasn’t using his quirk. Seemed that his explosions didn’t work underwater.

“God,” you said, letting out a relieved sigh as your shoulders slumped, though you didn’t relax your hold on the walls. They wanted to melt against the heated concrete, but you didn’t let them.

Todoroki came over to you, breathing heavily himself. “He won’t be able to stay in there long.”

“I know,” you said, watching the man’s movements closely for signs of hypothermia. You weren’t too worried, since Todoroki could create heat at a moment’s notice, but you still didn’t like this method. It was the best you’d been able to come up with, though.

“Great work, Snow,” he said, a thin smile curving on his lips.

The thing about Todoroki’s smiles, rare though they were, was that they were contagious. They were always earned, always a surprise, and you couldn’t ever help but return one when it was given to you. So, you smiled back, heat blossoming in your chest as your gazes lingered, panting in matching breaths.

It was easy to restrain yourself during battle. In combat, you and Todoroki were partners whose quirks worked well together, whose minds and styles had grown to be one with each other. But as soon as the battle was over and your breath was allowed to slow, the adrenaline able to recede, things felt different. You wanted to take his cheek in your hand and wipe the ash off his face. You wanted to take a washcloth and clean the blood away. You wanted to hold him in your arms and whisper that he was whole and okay and you’d both done your job well.

But all that you could offer was a hand raised in partnership. He took it and you touched from fingertip to elbow. Your tight grip on his equally cold hand held for just a moment, just one squeeze. And then you parted.

“Excellent work today, Snow.”

You were standing in front of your boss, freshly showered and out of your thermal costume, back in clothing that was a little more appropriate for a temperate fall in Japan. Nevertheless, the office felt warm, kept that way to make your manager’s day of sitting in pencil skirts at her oak desk comfortable.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you said, bowing and doing your best to read her face. “It was a team effort.”

It was unusual that someone was called to the boss’ office for good news, but, at the same time, you couldn’t read any dissatisfaction on your boss’ face. Your capture today had gone well. Yeah, there had been damage to the street, but very little to the buildings—save for the guy’s hideout, which had been ruined—and the police apprehended the man before he’d gotten frostbite. All in all, a neat wrap-up to a villain you and Todoroki had been chasing for weeks.

“Yes, it was. You and Todoroki are one of the star partnerships on the field nowadays,” she said, her gaze breaking down to some paperwork on the table.

You narrowed your eyes, able to hear the but that was coming.

“We’ve seen a lot of growth in your quirk. You used it really fantastically today when you were in a tight spot, and we’d like to send you on a covert operation.”

You cocked your head, feeling a disconnect between the different statements she was making. “…With Todoroki?”

She shook her head, looking grim. “Only one was requested for this mission, and you’re the one best suited to the job. Your ability to freeze and manipulate ice at will is really unique. If all goes well, it won’t be for long.”

“How long?”

She shrugged and your heart dropped. “Maybe a few weeks? It depends on how it goes. I’m emailing you the briefing now.”

A shrug and a maybe. She obviously had no idea.

“Okay, well, where is it?”

She looked up at you, a slight cringe wrinkling her brow and the bridge of her nose. This, she did have the answer to.

And she knew you wouldn’t want to hear it.

You’d somehow managed to drag Todoroki to a bar, you hadn’t been choosy about which. The light was dim, the décor mostly dark wood with black accents, and the atmosphere nearly morose with the lack of patrons. It matched your mood. He was nursing a gin martini and you a vodka to give yourself an ironic little laugh. Or maybe it was preparation. Either way, it was helping to steel your nerves.

“You seem upset,” Todoroki said before you were halfway through the drink. You’d been through congratulations on the day’s capture, but it had been hard to keep up the merriment. You weren’t entirely shocked that he’d picked up on it so quickly, though. The two of you were only kept alive by how attuned you were to each other, after all.

“It’s annoying that your job is being perceptive,” you said, knocking back a bit more of the drink.

“It’s yours too,” he said plainly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sighed, plucking the olive out of your drink to chew on it. Your mouth filled with brine, each taste bud standing on end at the sharp taste of pure salt. You had to take another sip to wash it down. “Boss lady didn’t tell you I’m going on assignment?”

You knew she hadn’t otherwise he would have asked you immediately. Todoroki wasn’t the kind to beat around the bush.

“Oh?” Todoroki asked, sipping more of his own drink. “By yourself? For how long?”

You ran your finger over the condensation on your glass. It was cold, though not as cold as you were used to. You liked your drinks frosty so you froze the condensation and gave the glass a swirl. “I don’t know. A month?”

You’d saddled Todoroki with the day’s villain paperwork while you’d read over the mission’s briefing. It had been short, which was your first hint that the team didn’t have as much information as they needed. They were pulling from an outside agency, after all, which always smelled of desperation to you.

“Where are you going?”

You looked down at your vermouth-mixed vodka and said, “Siberia.”

A rare bald reaction showed on Todoroki’s face. His eyes went wide and his chin jutted toward you. “Siberia?”

You held your hand out and pulled at the particles of water in the air, freezing just enough to make a few snowflakes to dance above your hand, drawing Todoroki’s gaze. “Siberia.”

It was your quirk that matched you to this assignment. You would thrive in an environment surrounded by snow. You’d be able to manipulate the whole terrain and freezing would be easy. You’d be at full power.

Todoroki took your ice-filled hand in his warm one and you felt heat flow rapidly into you as he melted the snow to water and then back into vapors barely catching the bar’s yellow light before slipping in and amongst the smell of liquor and hops.

“Wow,” Todoroki said, a word that always sounded stunted through his dull monotone, almost oxymoronic. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you said, though receiving the compliment felt disingenuous. Being chosen for this was a testament to your strength, but it didn’t feel like an achievement—it felt like a disruption. Months away from the job that you loved and the partner you…

You swigged the rest of the martini and ordered another one. If you were going to have to go to Russia tomorrow, you’d do well to invite a piece of it to you tonight. Microdosing or something.

Todoroki ordered a second, too, as he was nearly to the bottom of his own drink. He stirred the last dribbles of it and said, “Siberia isn’t that far from Japan.”

“Just one time zone behind,” you said. You’d done some googling after memorizing your notes. You weren’t sure how much you’d be moving about the region, but the location you were being sent to tomorrow was set.

The energy between you was stiff. Battling together today had been so easy, the two of you essentially extensions of one another. Todoroki created ice that you could manipulate as though it had come from your own body. Sure, you could create ice out of the water that was around, but Todoroki could so easily give you exactly what you needed. And then his fire could clean it all away. It was a perfect pairing.

Usually that chemistry followed you off the battlefield, but now you were trapped in small talk. Stuck with you apparently one foot out the door, unable to face him fully. Your elbows fell to the black marble bar, hands pushed into the roots of your hair. “God, this sucks!”

“They can’t force you to go if you don’t want to.”

He was right, but how would that look? Heroes didn’t turn down cases without good reason; that wasn’t how the job worked. You were expected to take jobs that were difficult, dangerous, and unpleasant—that was simply the field. The only reasons to turn one down were if you felt you couldn’t fulfill it.

“I can’t exactly tell them that I’ll miss my partner too much to go,” you said, eyes flickering towards his for a moment before starting on your second drink. “Then they’ll just think I’m too stupid and they’ll fire me.”

“I’ll miss being your partner too,” Todoroki said.

Your stomach squeezed. This. This was what made it impossible to spend time around Todoroki without getting the wrong idea. He just said things, so simply and genuinely that your mind would always jump to the next thing, when really, he just said what he meant and nothing more. There was no subtext, no matter how you tried to find it. And the search made your heart ache.

“So this isn’t a celebration so much as a farewell,” Todoroki mused, finishing his first drink and joining you on the second.

You were beginning to feel a bit of a buzz. Your emotions were a bit more liquid, sloshing from one state to another with more ease than usual. The sadness was transmuting into longing. The longing transmuting to desire.

“I wish I had known,” Todoroki continued, your eyes slipping back over to him. “I might have ordered something stronger.”

“Hah,” you said, the huff coming out humorless. You might have also, if you didn’t want to avoid being hungover on the plane. “Wanna drown my memory, Todoroki?”

“No.”

He didn’t look like he had more to say. Damn, sometimes you needed just a little more—subtext or actual text—out of him.

But he didn’t give it to you, so you just looked at him. His bangs were covering his eyes from you as he looked down into his drink, but you thought you could see the sadness. His shoulders were hunched, head hanging heavy off his neck. He would miss you. Maybe not as much as you would miss him, and maybe not in the same way, but you knew he valued your partnership. Your friendship. That, at the very least, meant something to him.

Tonight, however, you weren’t thinking about the very least. You didn’t want the lowest common denominator between you—your professional partnership—to be the last image you held of your relationship before heading to one of the most desolate places on Earth.

Besides, as of this afternoon he wasn’t your partner anymore. Not for the moment, at least.

“Shouto?”

Your voice was timid, unfamiliar with using his name in this setting. It was his hero name, but that wasn’t what you were saying here, and you knew it. He knew it too, by the way his eyes jerked up to yours, a question creasing between his eyebrows.

You didn’t answer, though. Maybe he had the right idea, leaving things unsaid.

You put two fingers to his jawline, drawing his face up, lifting his whole posture off the bar with nothing but a gentle touch. His brows furrowed deeper and then they relaxed, his eyes open and at ease.

For a moment, you did nothing more than breathe each other’s air. A moment of hesitation or of resolve, you didn’t know—it didn’t last long enough to figure it out. Then your mouth brushed against his, the bitter taste of alcohol on both your lips.

It wasn’t a good idea. But you’d regret it too much if you didn’t, and you had just enough courage to make it happen. As you twisted more to the side, slanting so you could feel the smoothness of his shaved cheek, you soared. Maybe he’d wanted this too. Maybe even as long as you had, though you’d lost track of exactly what that was.

Then he pulled away. Not for breath, but for distance.

“We can’t,” he said, feeling for his wallet and pulling it out. He placed a few bills on the bar, paying for both your drinks and his. Your heart hadn’t even finished breaking by the time he was taking your hand and dragging you out of there.

He hailed a cab in record time, everything moving just a bit too fast for you to keep up with. He was ushering you into the cab without a word and then you were seated side by side, hands still clasped tight.

“Todoroki, I—”

Todoroki caught your eye and shook his head, and you stopped immediately. Just like in combat, you didn’t ask questions. You did as he said, quiet for the whole car ride to his apartment.

Luckily, it wasn’t far. Half the reason you’d been able to drag him to the bar was its proximity to his apartment. It was fully within walking distance. But it seemed he’d decided he was in a hurry.

Your hands finally split from one another as you exited the cab and you followed him through his building, still quiet. You’d been there before, visited him when he’d been sick or injured, or occasionally to talk shop—though usually that easily dissolved into something more casual with food being ordered, knees touching as you sat crisscrossed around a low table.

The moment you made it through his front door, you automatically toed off your shoes on the tatami mats. Then the light were flicked on and his lips were back on yours, catching you off guard. Hadn’t he just rejected you? Hadn’t he pulled away from you and spoken his dissent?

You fell into the push and pull of his lips against yours, both a little too dry from the constant cold and heat you put them through, but that didn’t matter. You’d dreamt of kissing this man for so long, and here he was. You allowed yourself to revel in it for just a moment more before pulling back, just as he’d done earlier.

“What’s happening?” you asked. “I thought—”

“Not in public,” he said, “That’s not how I want to do this.”

“Oh,” you said, unable to believe you’d disregarded that. Even if the bar you’d been in hadn’t been that populated, that didn’t mean that you were invisible. And, like it or not, you and Todoroki were both public figures, well known for your partnership. The two of you kissing, no matter how innocent, would be news if it went public. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Todoroki said immediately, taking your hand in his warm one. “Don’t be.”

And then he was kissing you again, this one more passionate than either of the last two. The first had been hesitant, feeling each other out, the second quick and needy. This one was full, in no rush while making sweet use of the time you did have. His other hand came up to grip your waist and you moved to grip his shoulder, feeling the swollen muscle beneath his shirt.

You were drawn to his warmth, as you always were, and your body couldn’t help but press against his, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. You’d always tried so hard to keep a professional distance that as soon as the boundary was taken away, you couldn’t seem to get close enough. Making up for lost time, as it were.

Making up for the time that was about to be taken.

You felt yourself being dragged out of the entryway, and you eagerly let it happen. In the past times you’d been to his apartment, you’d never seen his bedroom, but you knew where it was. Todoroki led you there, his lips barely leaving yours for breath, fingertips pressing in wherever they could reach.

The next thing you knew, your knees were hitting the back of a bed and you allowed yourself to be pushed back. You landed on a soft comforter atop a neatly made bed, and were met with Todoroki’s hard body crawling on top of yours. You continued to make out and you thought that if this was how you spent your last night before leaving Japan, you’d be happy. You were already happier than you’d been in ages.

Todoroki was panting when he pulled away from you, kneeling over you so that he looked powerful in a way that you didn’t usually acknowledge. You were intimately aware of Todoroki’s strength, but usually it was matched with yours, used to compliment and support you and vice versa. But now it was suspended over you and it sent a thrill through your core. This was a side of him that you’d always wanted to see, always imagined, but never believed would be yours.

“Y/N,” he said, brushing a soft hand down your arm, the light touch making you shiver. “What do you want?”

“What do you want?” you asked, pressing up, entangling your legs.

Now both of his hands were on your arms and you loved the touch, warm on one hand, chilled on the other, but both making you equally heated.

“I want to be with you,” he said, the rare euphemism coming out as assuredly as any blunt word ever had from him. “I want to have you.”

“Me too,” you said, pushing on your knees to catch his lips again.

Then there was no stopping you. Todoroki’s hands moved down to the hem of your sweater—too cold for outside, too hot in the bar, and utterly unneeded here—and ripped it over your head before starting on the buttons of his shirt.

In the meantime, you pressed your way into his lap, riding his thighs a little as you kissed him, making your way down his neck and leaving the softest kisses, reveling in the shiver it sent down his spine as you did.

“Sensitive?” you whispered in his ear.

“Mhmm,” he murmured. Then his own shirt was off, and a quick flick of his fingers behind your back sent your bra following.

Then you were pushed back on the bed, his lips now giving your neck the same treatment. You felt him lingering in one spot halfway between your jaw and your collarbone, his teeth just barely grazing the soft skin. Before you knew what you were asking for, you whispered, “Do it,” and felt his lips latch and give a good suck.

You were going to Siberia. A scarf would never leave your neck. You’d be clothed head to toe every moment you were there, you were sure. He could mark up your whole body and no one would ever know.

What was more—you wanted him to.

You wanted to dress in the morning, clean yourself and see the footprints of his presence on your body. Little reminders that this wasn’t a dream, one of the many fantasies that had eaten at you, feeling good until they left you hollow. This was as real as the familiar smell of his detergent on his navy blue bedding. The poster of All Might you couldn’t really be surprised to see.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the spot on your neck go hot with his ministrations, and you knew the bruise would linger for days. You grew wet at the thought of it.

“More.”

Obediently, Todoroki trailed down your neck to your chest, taking in the sight of your upper half bare to him. You’d seen him topless before, usually when the two of you exercised together, his body glistening with sweat, rippling as various muscle groups enjoyed his focus. But he’d never seen you. He looked up at you, eyes almost too soft to bear, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

You bit your lip and your head fell against his pillow as his mouth descended onto your breast, not the nipple but just above. He sucked a new spot, this one even more private than the previous. You arched your back into his mouth, wanting him to know how much you wanted it, how much you needed it. He could read you as well as ever, sucking the spot until the pain was sharp, then releasing and laving his tongue over it. Then he sunk his teeth into your nipple.

“Ah,” you gasped, gripping his hair and tugging. That pulled the smallest moan, almost a grunt out of him, and you realized that you needed more. You needed more, fast.

“Shouto,” you breathed, reaching down his waist towards his pants, but arms not quite long enough to make it there. Still, he looked into your eyes and understood, giving a smile that bloomed one of your own and pushed his jeans down, leaving him in nothing but tight boxers.

You could see his bulge straining against the fabric and your heart knocked against your chest. This was your partner, the man who held your life in his hands on the daily and his in yours. The man you sat up with doing paperwork, and who worked missions with you when you were both dead on your feet, starving, and snippy.

How did that add up to where you were now? You didn’t know, but when he unbuttoned your pants and looped his fingers around the hem, you lifted your hips. Your panties when halfway down with them, leaving half your ass against the comforter and the tops of your pubes frizzing out, but what did it matter?

You didn’t wait for Todoroki and pushed your panties the rest of the way down yourself. You immediately felt the slickness at your center begin to dribble down your thighs, sticking them together. Todoroki took the invitation and removed his boxers as well, revealing himself in his full glory to you. He was pale along the shaft and red at the tip—the same colors that you associated with him. You blushed at the thought, unable to miss the subtle dual-tone of his pubic hair, more muted in color than the hair on his head. You’d never be able to look at his split color the same way again.

Your hand was on the back of his neck, bringing him to you before you could overthink things any further. His dick pressed against the crease of your inner thigh as you tasted his tongue, the flavor of the martinis all but gone at this point and replaced with nothing but him and you.

“Y/N,” he managed, his voice coming out rough as he grinded against you, the whole of his length making it from your crosswise crease to your belly button, leaving sticky pre on your stomach. “I feel I should tell you…it’s been a while for me.”

“Me too,” you answered quickly, lifting your hips into his, pulling a groan from him.

When was there time to be meeting people—much less people who weren’t influenced by your being a mid-tier celebrity—when you were a pro hero? Not that there was any point in trying. You’d barely been able to look at other men as you spent your days fighting off a growing crush on your partner.

“I’m just saying,” he said as you went to press your lips against his neck again, “this might be over quickly.”

That affected you, causing you to bite down high on his shoulder, where the tall neck of his hero costume would more than cover.

You didn’t care about how long he would last. The base of his length had moved between your lips and was grinding soundly against your clit, ensuring that your own orgasm wouldn’t be far off either. But while you weren’t particular about how long it lasted you didn’t want it to be over. You wanted to stay in this forever.

“Nothing to prove,” you said, returning to his lips and taking them in yours. “Just need you.”

“Me too,” he said, voice low and throaty. Your heart flipped before you forced yourself not to read into it. There was no subtext. Never any subtext.

He reached away from you, pulling at a drawer next to his bed to pull out a pack of condoms. He picked a square from it and tossed the rest aside before ripping it open. He rolled the rubber down himself and you took in his size again.

It would be a lie to say that you’d never thought about what Shouto was packing before. You’d seen his costume in ribbons after a particularly grueling battle, leaving little to the imagination. You saw the thickness of his thighs, the jut of his hipbones. You’d wondered what else was there.

He didn’t disappoint. The condom left a good inch or two at the base of his cock uncovered, and he wasn’t narrow either. He’d be a stretch, a delicious elongation for you to make room for.

His hand left his dick and went to your center and you spread your legs automatically. He reached with two fingers and spread your wetness up and down your pussy. You groaned at the feeling, arching your hips up to encourage him further. Hesitantly, he began to press one finger into you and then another.

“Damn, you’re tight,” he said. “You weren’t kidding.”

You just squirmed beneath him, all of his movements far too slow to stoke anything but the smoldering coals within you. But you needed Shouto’s fire.

“Sho,” you whined. “Don’t tease.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice not carrying an ounce of the smugness that another man’s would.

“You’d never hurt me,” you said, lifting your arms up and encouraging him toward you. He indulged, giving a couple more pumps of his fingers, scissoring them just a couple times and then pulling out. Without hesitation, he slipped them into his mouth and sucked them clean.

Your face went hot. The pure nonchalance of his gesture didn’t even seem to register, as his hand dropped to the bedspread, his lips back down to yours. You tasted the tinny flavor of yourself on his lips and only felt more aroused.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft and hot in your ear.

You grinned. “Impatient.”

He chuckled as his knuckles brushed against your thigh, guiding his dick to your core. And then he was pressing in, stretching you wide despite the prep that he’d done. Your body ached, wanting to pull away from the discomfort, but also yearning to feel whole, feel full. But he was filling you up so slowly.

“There you are, princess.”

You felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix, and when you looked down, you saw that he wasn’t even all the way in. A good inch still hung out, keeping his hips from being flush with yours, keeping you from being as close as possible.

But you felt it, that heat that started in your groin and moved up through your stomach and your chest as you squeezed your walls around him, feeling every bit that you could. Sex wasn’t love, you knew that, but then why did having him so close make your heart flutter in a way that it didn’t when he was gone?

“Can I move, sweetheart?”

You were gone. The tone of his voice, the words on his lips made anything possible. You would take whatever he would give you and hold it with both hands.

“Please.”

He started with a gentle rocking, barely leaving you, and you were grateful for that. You were so warm when he was deep inside you, his swollen cock pressing against the nerves of your clit, even from inside. He took one hand and pressed it against the base of your belly and every sensation turned hot, searing. Every drag of his cock was magnified, and you could see the light ripple of your belly every time he plunged into your depths.

You gasped and wrapped your arms around his back, nails finding the skin under his shoulder blades and digging in. “Oh, fuck,” you whined as he upped his pace, sweat making your skin stick to each other.

“What do you need?” he grunted, his words knocking you out of your daze just enough to hone in on his sentiment.

“Fingers,” you breathed.

Todoroki rotated his hand so that the heel of his palm pressed right above your pubic bone, and the tips of his fingers began toying with your clit. After that, it wasn’t long. Your hands clawed at his back, knees rose all on their own and clung to his sides.

“Shouto,” you cried desperately. “Shouto…!”

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

“I—” Your voice broke as the heat spread from your core and your chest to all through your body. Even your extremities, always cold from your quirk, became flush with warmth, your cheeks hot, lashes wet as Todoroki only seemed to move quicker. “I’m—Shouto!”

Your breath left you as your orgasm tore out of you. It seemed that was all Todoroki needed, as he pushed a few more desperate ruts into you, half your name passing his lips before he stuttered to a halt, only managing a few more rough passes of his cock before he collapsed on top of you.

You panted as the heat left your body, save for all the corners at which Todoroki was still pressed against you. Those were hot, hot as any touch from him had ever been. You felt him adjust his hips as he pulled out of you, but you didn’t loosen your hold across his back, not wanting to break apart.

“Y/N,” Shouto said after a minute. “We have to clean up.”

Always so logical. Always so sensible. Your brows furrowed above your closed eyes as you tried to wish it away. You wanted to stay here. As long as you stayed put, it felt like time was paused in this moment for you. That you could live in afterglow forever.

“I know,” you said, but you made no sign to move.

Todoroki seemed to think this was because he was on top of you and rolled to the side, peeling of the condom as he did so.

You shivered immediately, your combined sweat on your chest cooling and leaving your skin tacky and raised with goosebumps.

“C’mon,” Todoroki said, placing a hand over yours. “We’ll take a shower.”

He helped you up, your body heavy, though you didn’t know if it was from pleasure or denial, and led you to the bathroom, flicking on the shower.

Under the hot spray, you leaned into the touches of Todoroki treating your skin with soap, pressing his hand gently between your legs to clean you of evidence of your activities. When he faced away from you, you gasped at the lines of red you’d left down his back, pairs of stripes marking either side of his spine. The spot you’d left on his neck was already purple, as were the two he’d left on you.

“I’m so sorry, Shouto,” you said, rubbing light fingertips over the raised spots.

“I don’t mind,” he said, turning around and taking your hand in his. “Don’t worry.”

He passed his thumb over the bruise on your breast and, despite the warm water, the soft touch had you shivering again. The intimacy was surprising. Weren’t you supposed to rebuild your walls after your time in bed was over? Was this a one night stand?

It had to be. Because you were leaving.

With that thought on your mind, you wrapped your arms around him and hid your face in his shoulder as the water poured over you. You couldn’t face him.

But you surely couldn’t let him go either.

“Stay.”

You felt Todoroki’s chest rumble around your hands, his words carrying into your bones. You weren’t certain whether he was talking about tonight, or asking you not to go to Russia. But, either way, tonight, you could do. It was all you could do.

The vibration of your phone was faint, but pulled you from slumber as the sensation rattled up your arm. Somehow you’d managed to keep your phone clenched in your sleep and you fumbled as quickly as you could in your haze to turn off the alarm. Your motions were imprecise as sleep and the last vestiges of alcohol coated a thin film over your senses.

You blinked at your phone. 4am. It was early, but that didn’t mean you had time to spare. As you tried to peel through the murky layers in your mind, you became aware of the sensation of something thick and warm across your middle.

The next breath you took squeezed your chest, seeming to inflate your heart instead of your lungs, bolstering the dual weight of joy and heartache. Todoroki’s touch was always one that you craved, his left side so warm to your constant chill while his right side never shivered at your own cold touch. You wanted to curl in closer, scoot back to deny the few inches that were separating most of the lines of your bodies.

But you couldn’t. The arm was enough of a problem.

As slowly as you could, you scooted out from under his hold, hoping that the alcohol—or the sex—had rendered Todoroki out cold. This was the first time you’d seen him in repose, so you weren’t sure of your luck. He’d never told you if he was a heavy sleeper or not.

So you could only hope for the best as you slid to the ground, recovering the clothes you hadn’t put back on after your shower and gathered them in your arm. You just had to leave the bedroom without waking him up.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t look back.

Todoroki’s room was dark, each piece of furniture nothing more but a rectangular shadow in the sparse space. But Todoroki’s hair, pure white on his right side, caught just enough light to draw focus to the bits of him that poked out of his blanket. His cheek pressed against the same pillow you’d used, the second one behind him resting untouched. You let yourself study him, memorize him like this, and then brought a hand to your lips and blew him a kiss, relieved you hadn’t woken him.

You didn’t know what you’d do if you had to say goodbye.

The good thing was that you could feel that you weren’t hungover. You and Todoroki had both gulped big glasses of water before bed and it seemed it had paid off. Of course now you had to pee, but that would just have to wait. You couldn’t risk making the noise.

You called a car to Todoroki’s building. You were all packed back at your place, and then you’d have to dash to the airport to make the flight that had been arranged for you. It seemed this was all happening so quickly to keep you from even being able to consider making a decision. Your next steps were handed to you quicker than you could plan for. Your agreement was expected. Assured.

You shuffled back into your clothes at the front door, not wanting the pull of your sweater against your skin or the zip of your jeans to alert Todoroki to your sudden departure. Then you slipped on your shoes and pushed yourself out the door before your car was even ten minutes away. Once you closed Todoroki’s door, there was no way back in—an automatic lock. No turning back.

As you passed through the bright corridors of the apartment complex and then to the sheet of darkness outdoors, you felt the stillness of the world at 4am. Your sluggishness from both the remaining alcohol in your system and the paltry three or so hours of sleep you’d gotten feeling endemic to the atmosphere. It was a lull, providing you just enough awareness to gently guide you through the motions, but not enough to truly have to think about them.

The cold curled around you as you waited on the car, making you shiver through your sweater despite your high tolerance. You wished that Todoroki was back beside you, making you warm with either his quirk or just his presence. But now, every move you made was taking you one step further from him for who knew how long.

Time crept by before your car finally approached. You sent it in the direction of your own apartment, dark and empty, and told the guy to wait once you got there. You’d be right back down.

And then it was off to the airport to catch a redeye due north.

Shouto felt cold.

Not from his quirk. No, he’d just finished his first solo patrol in months, and there wasn’t a villain to be seen, so he hadn’t had to use either his right side or his left.

Now that he was back at the agency, he felt sluggish. Pulling his boots off, unzipping his uniform was a chore. He placed them on the wooden bench mechanically, wondering if this was what the next month or so would be like since you had left his apartment this morning.

The thought of it was bittersweet. He’d been so happy yesterday, and then had woken up to find nothing but bunched up covers in front of him when he’d woken up. Your smell had barely even lingered, since you’d showered using his soap. He’d been left alone with little more than the memory that you’d been there at all, the whole thing barely feeling real at that point.

He’d been cold ever since.

It took Shouto only five minutes to fill out his no-incident log, and then there was nothing to do but go home. But the last time he’d gone home had been with you by his side, the promise of kisses in the air between you. He was loath to replace that memory by schlepping home with loneliness as his new partner.

He closed his locker door with a slam, frustration feeding his emotions. He needed to snap out of it. You were his partner, dammit, and you were away on hero work. That shouldn’t have left him feeling so empty.

Worse, he didn’t know what to make of last night. You both had been tipsy, but not drunk—he was sure of that. You’d been to enough company holiday parties, galas, and celebrations to know each other’s spectrums of drunkenness pretty well. So that meant there should be no regret, right? He didn’t regret it.

But you’d left without saying goodbye. Had you just been upset about having to leave and had got caught up in the moment? Had you been trying to communicate something he wasn’t getting?

Shouto ran an irritated hand through his hair and left the locker room, marching for the elevator. When he made it to the boss’s door, he gave three good raps of his knuckles and waited, his nerves more on edge than they’d been for his entire shift. He touched the bruise at the base of his neck through the turtleneck he had on now. It was probably good he’d been in the locker room alone. This morning, he’d gotten a good look at the scratches you’d put on his back, flashing immediately back to the moments before your orgasm when you’d clung to him so tightly, seeming to need him more than you ever had in combat.

“Come in.” Shouto walked in to see the agency’s manager smiling up at him as she lowered her laptop screen. “Oh good, I was hoping to speak to you, “Shouto.”

She gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk, plush green ones with rounded upholstered backs. Shouto sat down and eyed her wordlessly.

“We haven’t worked out the details completely, so that’s why I hadn’t called you in yet, but it’s just as well that you’re here,” she began, intertwining her fingers and resting her chin on them. She was casual in a way that Shouto didn’t quite think was professional, but that you always said you appreciated. “We’ve been speaking with Deku’s manager and think that it’s a great opportunity while Snow is gone for a little PR between the two of you. It’ll look good, the two of you, high school friends, crossing agencies to do a little partner work to make up for the fact that Snow isn’t here.”

“That sounds fine.”

He wouldn’t mind working with Deku—they didn’t get to see each other often enough as it was now that they were both pros. Their quirks didn’t work as well together as yours and his did, but he did know Deku’s style well enough to be able to work seamlessly. It would do in the interim.

“Of course, it’s too bad to lose her while you two are going up in the rankings, but we’ll just have to make the best of it.”

“Right,” Shouto said, his hands going clammy. “Have you heard from her? Do you know if she’s landed?”

“The flight has landed,” she said. “But I have not heard from Snow. There won’t be any internet or cell service there.”

Shouto’s eyes widened, posture falling forward. “What?”

“That’s right,” she said, looking only the slightest bit apologetic. Not nearly enough. “I’ll probably get occasional updates about the course of the operation, but we can’t expect anything more than that.”

“So we just won’t hear from her for a month,” he stated, voice tumbling out quick with disbelief.

“Maybe less, maybe more.”

Shouto stared, able to see his reflection in his boss’s perfectly polished glasses. His jaw worked as he finally looked down, hands pushing against the seat of his chair, ready to push up and out of there. “Are we finished?”

“You’re dismissed.”

Shouto swept out of there, feeling the tension of a slowly ticking clock following him.

November

“Three, two, one.”

The man beside you put his hands on the wall and you felt the telltale vibration that the snow around your feet never seemed to dampen. A round hole dug through the thick concrete wall of the building you were back against as you held a pile of snow taken from the ground aloft, ready to turn it into spikes or a dense shield or sword at a moment’s notice.

As soon as the wall was dug through, you charged in first, masses of snow floating on either side of you. You ran fast, perhaps a bit quicker than was strategic. The nondescript hallways of the concrete building blurred past you, mixing in a blur of beige as you kept your senses alert. All you could pick up on, though, were your own echoing footsteps and those of the team behind you.

When the path split, so did your group, different people going down different hallways as you continued straight, barreling forward. There had to be something this time. Some clue, some person. Or, gods willing, maybe the whole operation would fall into your lap. Rarely did you hope for battle when on patrol, but you were. Eight weeks and yet to actually interact with any of the big bads you’d read about had you itching for a fight. Hungry for it.

Anything to get this over with.

But you already knew there was nothing. Nothing more than the dank smell of mold from melted snow traveling from the grimy corners of rooms and hallways into the air. The wireless communicator in your ear was silent and you didn’t see anything to hint at any signs of human life. No footprints—nothing.

You let go of some of the snow you were holding, turning it to ice slabs and sticking it to the rough texture of the cement walls. You weren’t going to waste your energy on villains who weren’t here.

You barely felt yourself slowing to a stop, nearly causing the person behind you to smack into you. “Sorry,” you said, before gathering the strength to at least keep walking.

A clean sweep would have to be done before this building was rendered a lost cause like all the rest. And then you’d go back home.

Well, not home. Not even close.

“Why don’t you go outside?”

The Mole’s eyes were on your leg, which was bouncing up and down as you sat in a rocking chair, trying and failing to read. You turned to him, eyes cold. He had the strange snout of a star-nosed mole, though it had nothing to do with his quirk. Neither did his name, which you always thought made it sound like he was some sort of spy. No, his quirk was tunneling, which was handy for powering through old cement prisons, seeing if they had hidden basements but made for quite the nightmare from a hero branding standpoint. You’d gone simple. Ice quirk. Snow.

“Fine,” you said, standing up, feeling the heat you’d created in your leg from the anxious bouncing.

It took five minutes to bundle up. Thick socks over your thermal leggings and snow pants over those. Gloves then jacket, scarf then coat. Hat and waterproof boots. All that and when you stepped outside, you still felt the cold biting into you. Still, outside might have been cold, but inside was stifling. After two months you had cabin fever bad.

It turned out that Siberia had its own League of Villains much like the one Todoroki had interacted so much with during his high school days. Siberia housed a lot of prisons that had been dealing with high profile escapes for months. Then people with matching quirks descriptions were showing up in groups, wreaking havoc only to recruit more members.

But they were slick. Siberia was so vast that so long as the villains made it in and out quickly, hunting them down was a wild goose chase. By now, you were afraid that they had one or more teleportation quirks in their ranks, able to send them hither and yon without so much as a scent to follow.

Thinking about it too hard grated on your nerves, though, so you walked over to the garden. This was the real reason why you’d been sent to Siberia alone, without room for even just one other person to join you. Your group of heroes was off the grid with as little contact with the outside as possible. That meant growing your own food.

In the arctic.

You approached a woman who simply went by Dell—you didn’t know if it was her real name or a hero title—who had bare fingers to the soil, coaxing life out of a potato sprout. You crouched behind her, back naturally curling to match her premature hunch, making her look older than she was—and she did look old. There’d been no snowfall today, so the only snow that had to be cleared was that that had been blown by the wind. Light stuff, easy to move as breath itself—easier, actually. In this cold, every breath felt like it tore at your nostrils, then your lungs. You’d thought you were used to the cold, but it turned out you didn’t truly know it.

You easily moved the snow that had strayed into the garden, compacting it into a snowball and dropping it in your hand to toss it off into the pine trees. That brought you a smile, at least. Then you began the harder work of picking the frost out of the soil. You’d grown spoiled, manipulating little ice other than Todoroki’s for three years now. What he created was perfectly pure, exactly what your quirk liked best. This stuff was tiny, stuck in dirt and warped with atoms besides hydrogen and oxygen. It was good practice, but it made you miss the ease with which you interacted with Todoroki’s quirk. Like it was an extension of your own.

Dell’s eyes were closed, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think that she was totally unaware of your presence, her focus solely on the plants. They were growing, just barely perceptively—almost a trick of the eyes. If you stared long enough, though, you could see a leaf’s edge move past one wrinkle on her knuckle to another, a mark of the growth.

Her quirk allowed for her to steer nutrients from the earth into plants. So long as they had sunlight and water, they could grow more rapidly. She could protect them somewhat from the cold as well, but your quirk was also intended to help with that. While you couldn’t heat the soil, you could keep the frost off of it, keep the leaves bare and pointing up to the sun.

“Bad nerves?”

You looked at Dell, her eyes still closed. You couldn’t even say what color they were, you’d so rarely seen them open. When they were, she was walking from one plot to the next, eyes cast down. Humans got her ears and her mouth, plants got her eyes and her touch. As for smell—it was hard to smell anything in this cold, much less through the scarves everyone had bundled up to their eyes.

“No,” you said, perhaps a bit petulantly. One didn’t get to be a hero with bad nerves. You had to be cool and calm under pressure. Steady.

“They sent you out again.”

It had become a habit of the group, the dozen or so members who had access to this remote cabin. A location only to be found with coordinates of latitude and longitude, as there were no other landmarks for miles. Just snow, trees, and Dell’s small garden. When the few weeks your boss had promised you turned to the month you’d promised Todoroki, then turned to five weeks and even six, you’d become more and more ornery. At least you always had Dell to talk to when you were kicked out, the comfort of the snow around you feeling both familiar and allowing you to feel powerful.

No one had mentioned that you’d have no internet access. No cell phone. No courier service. The detectives in the group had some internet access, but it was strictly for professional use. Not a single private email was to be sent.

“Not a lot of patience for fidgeters,” you mumbled. “Gotta do something to stay warm.”

“The fireplace makes me sweat,” Dell commented, shifting to the next plant over.

It did for you too—you’d just been making an excuse. It was so hard to get a neutral temperature in this place. This was the land of extremes. Blizzard or drought, heat or frostbite. Yet people continued to survive and have the propensity to commit crimes.

“Something is on your mind.”

Todoroki.

On your flight north, you’d let the warm feelings of your night together linger over you, kindling into hope. He hadn’t said anything, but Todoroki wasn’t foolish enough to jeopardize a years’ old partnership for the sake of carnal passion. No, if he was going to sleep with you, it was going to be for a reason. Just like you.

Since then, you’d been in two months’ worth of circles.

“I didn’t tell anyone goodbye,” you said, just one of the many things that had been on your mind. “I didn’t get to tell anyone.”

You’d put every effort into not waking him. You hadn’t left a note. You hadn’t stolen one last kiss or even a touch of his hand. You’d thought you’d be able to talk again. Soon.

What was the point of being one time zone away if you couldn’t make contact?

“You’re missing someone,” Dell surmised, pulling a potato the size of her fist from the ground you’d just cleared of frost. Without you, it would have taken a shovel to do that. The frozen ground here was as hard as asphalt.

“Yeah,” you said. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss everyone else, but at least you knew what you’d be coming back to with anyone else in your life. You relationships were stable. But Todoroki…

“You’re in love.”

You’d been staring at the dirt, your eyes practically frozen over. You blinked up to find Dell’s eyes staring at you. They were a murky brown—or maybe a murky blue. They were right in that land of in between.

“Can you really be in love if you’re not in a relationship?” you asked. “If you’re not in it with someone else, really testing out what your compatibility is like? Isn’t it just a crush otherwise?”

You didn’t know why you were asking her. You were the only person you ever saw speaking with Dell—the others seemed to think that her plants were enough for her, that she had all the conversation that she needed with them. Maybe that was true. You had no idea what she knew of love.

“Is dating the only way to know those things?” she asked. “Is dating the only relationship of meaning?”

“Of course not,” you answered. It sounded stupid the way she said it. You and Todoroki were partners—had been. You had no idea if you’d been replaced. Certainly temporarily, if not permanently. But you knew how the two of you worked. Perfectly in tandem. As each other’s other half.

The wry laugh that followed didn’t come out as anything more than a breath, muffled in our scarf.

“So you love them,” she said, a smile quirking her lips as she pulled another potato. “But they don’t know.”

“I thought he might,” you said, the cold from both the air and your quirk leeching out any heat that that cabin had brought you.

“But now?”

You had no clue.

December

As The Mole tunneled into this building, you could tell it was different right away. Rather, you could hear it.

Human noises. Voices. Multiple of them. You ran in first, taking your place as the muscle of the group as you carried as much snow and ice in with you as you could without inhibiting your peers’ vision. You stuck patches of it to the wall, where it wouldn’t be in the way, but would be available for you to call on. Then you readied a staff of ice, compact with no air pockets so that they wouldn’t snap as soon as a fist or weapon came at them.

You began knocking people down indiscriminately, thwacking them with your staff and then sending slicks of ice to their feet, sending people sprawling. You created handcuffs and restraints watching to see who had a quirk that would let them crack out of them, only for you to trap them in something bigger.

Three months. Three months of isolation with no one but a handful of colleagues to keep you company, nothing but the case and the garden to give you purpose. Now, all of that impatience, all that frustration came walloping out on these villains, descriptions matching the text that had burned into the back of your eyes.

A screech came through the hallway, making your fingers go numb almost too quickly to counter for. But these villains didn’t know who they were dealing with.

You formed hunks of ice in your ears, freezing one of the only parts of your body that still felt the warm pulse of your blood, but silencing out some of the noise. You clenched your staff, ignoring the tingles of the villain attack and headed back into battle, deafened, looking for a mouth to fill with ice.

It was easy to spot the one making the soundwaves. It was a quirk similar to Present Mic’s, except the pitch was always high and, rather than just being painfully loud, it was at such a frequency that it messed with the nervous system. You jabbed some snow into his mouth, feeling it form around the nooks and crannies of his teeth, pressing it up against his soft palate, and turned it from compact snow to hard ice, hoping he got brain freeze.

You weren’t usually so coldhearted. But you’d been in Siberia for three months. You wouldn’t allow anyone to get frostbite. You’d cuddle any villain you gave hypothermia to if you had to. But your nerves were raw as your throat was with every frozen breath you took. It had taken three days through the tundra to reach this place.

Your patience was at its end. You’d been brought on to be the brute force.

So you were brutal.

You continued plowing through the crew in the windowless hallway, catching more of the quirks you’d read about in the mission’s write ups. Fortunately, most people could be stopped by ice—it just depended how much ice would be needed. The next thing you knew, a hole was burst through in the ceiling. You raised a shield of ice over your head, saving you from the dust and plaster that rained down on you, though it did little to help your vision.

You were unsure if the move had been done by your side or theirs, an accident or not. But it was to the villains’ detriment, as you were now able to reach your pull out of the building and drag in heaps of snow through the new hole. Now you could cage people completely if you needed to; you could freeze the whole room.

Although, suddenly, it became much harder to do that. Your ice wanted to melt. You had to focus on all that you’d already molded, keeping it solid and strong as you felt the temperature in the room steadily rising. You were sweating, both from the exertion of the fight and then the heat you first felt on the exposed skin of your face and then at your extremities, tingling from the temperature change now that the previous numbness had dissipated. Something was coming. Something hot.

Then you saw it, a bright orange flecked with streaks of yellow and red, fluid and coming at you. Reflexively, you brought your ice up to shield you. It held long enough to turn the incandescent source from orange to black in an instant. Then what was once liquid was suddenly solid, sending it crashing through your ice and to your skull.

You didn’t even remember falling.

You woke up to a pounding headache, exacerbated by the constant rumbling underneath you. You opened your eyes and found yourself already sitting up, strapped in the backseat of a car.

Panic shot through your veins immediately. You’d been caught. The villains were taking you somewhere. The feeling only lasted a second, though, as your wits returned. You were bound by nothing more than a seatbelt, limbs loose and free to unbuckle at an instant.

“What’s happening?” you asked, your voice dry.

The teammate beside you handed you a water bottle as The Mole began to speak from the driver’s seat. “Mission’s over, kid,” he said, “I tunneled the lava quirk into the ground and when he used his quirk to ride back up, we were able to capture him.”

“But what about all the other villains?” you asked

You had no idea how many had been there. Your shots had been fired indiscriminately at anyone who wasn’t one of the few people you’d spent the last three months holed up with. Everyone else had gotten your ice—until that lava villain had melted it.

“Your ice held even when you were unconscious,” he said, glittering eyes catching yours in the rearview mirror. “You’ve got a strong grip, kid.”

You furrowed your brow, drawing your attention back to the throbbing at the side of your head. You were definitely concussed, but that was nothing you couldn’t push through.

What The Mole was describing shouldn’t have been possible. Certainly, the ice couldn’t have been that strong to have withheld the heat that villain brought into the room. Unless you were holding it in place. Which you always had to put thought into. Thought that wasn’t possible when you were knocked out.

You froze a bit of the water in the bottle that was in your hand, playing with the ice as you shifted the fractals from snow to ice, changing the shapes like you were twisting the base of a monochrome kaleidoscope.

Your quirk had gotten stronger here. All the snow you’d worked with—the vast amounts, the uncontrollable impurities, not to mention your hours of detail work in the garden—it had refined your craft. Outside of the minimal hero work you’d been able to pull off—until the hurrah at the end, of course—the last three months had been an intensive in using your quirk. In living up to your hero name as you were thrust into the stuff it was made of. Without Todoroki to rely on.

“Are we going home?” you asked suddenly. The Mole had said that the mission was over, but…

“Yeah, we’re all going home,” he said, and you could hear the grin on his face.

Home, you thought in relief, your head falling gently to the headrest. Then you froze.

Home.

Shouto.

“Shouto?”

Midoriya was right in front of Shouto, eyebrows raised in concern. Shouto leaned back reflexively—he hadn’t even noticed Midoriya approaching him on the sidewalk. His training shouldn’t have allowed for that to happen, but he’d been distracted.

“Something on your phone?”

Shouto was suddenly aware that he’d been staring at his phone entirely too long. He’d barely noticed the snow landing and melting on the screen. He wiped it against his pants.

In the three months that he and Midoriya had been partnering—offset with many solo shifts and shifts with their various sidekicks—Shouto had been pushing himself. He’d been overcompensating because you’d become inextricable from his battling style over the years. And now that you were gone, he had to be on top of his game.

But, aside from that—he wasn’t mad about having to further hone his skills, after all—he and Midoriya had needed to be on their best behavior. There’d been more citizens and fans to interact with, more autographs to sign, more selfies to pose for. Midoriya had taken on your usual role of speaking with charm to the crowd, and Shouto was thankful. Thanks to him, PR had been right; Shouto’s public perception had gone up.

However, staring enraptured by his cell phone while on the job didn’t look good.

“She’s coming back,” Shouto said, unable to quite have it in him to put away the phone, still open to the email he’d just received. He had a special alert for work messages and he’d almost skipped this one when he’d heard the notification. They’d done nothing but disappoint him for weeks now—months.

“Snow?” Midoriya asked, his grin bright and genuine as ever. “Wow, that’s amazing! When?”

“Should be today,” Shouto said, staring back at the little box of black and white text on his screen. “Soon.”

His heart started pounding, and suddenly all the warmth that he’d been missing for months was pooling back in his belly, in his cheeks, in his sweaty palms.

“Shouto, are you okay?” Midoriya asked, cocking his head as he brought his hands up to the phone and lowered it.

“I’m not sure,” Shouto said, putting his phone back in his pocket to find his hands tingly, his fingertips feeling flush and warm. He took a step in the light dusting of snow, continuing the route of their patrol while Midoriya followed. “I feel very…anticipatory.”

“Anticipatory?” Midoriya echoed. “You mean excited? I know you’ve been eager for her to come back.”

“Yes, but…” Shouto let out a sigh, brushing both sweaty hands through his hair. “I don’t know.”

Midoriya smiled, eyes wide with mirth. “You’re nervous. What do you have to be nervous about?”

Shouto had been playing over the events of the last time he saw you for three months now to the point that word you’d said, every sound you’d breathed when you’d been underneath him was branded in his mind. But in between all of it, there’d never been any promises, any statements that he could glean your intentions from.

“We slept together. The night before she left.”

Midoriya nearly choked, doubling over coughing while Shouto cocked his head and patted the man’s back. He’d probably swallowed some spit.

“Midoriya,” Shouto continued, grateful that the snow was keeping people off the streets, and they could speak for a moment without hordes of fans approaching them for once, “do you think that one can make love to someone if it’s onesided?”

When he could stand straight again, Midoriya’s face was red, so Shouto waited for him to get his breath back under him as they began walking again.

“Um, wow, sorry, you just surprised me,” Midoriya said. “Can we backtrack for a second?”

“But nothing was happening back—”

“No, I mean,” Midoriya pinched the bridge of his nose and Shouto paused, allowing him to gather his thoughts, “was that the, uh, first time?”

“Yes.”

“And, er, nothing like that had ever happened before?”

“No.”

“And you’re in love with her?”

Shouto became aware of his heartbeat again, now moving up to his throat. He could see your face in his mind’s eye and wondered if your hair was longer or if you’d had it cut while you were away? Had being up north paled your skin since you’d been here in the fall, or would it have the same hue as when you’d left? It had been so long since he’d seen you; would he even notice?

“I’m not certain,” Shouto said. “But…”

Shouto put two fingers to the pulse point at the base of his neck. The mark you’d left there was long since gone, as were the marks on his back, but he could still feel the ghost of them. Your touch had hardly left his mind in the three long months of autumn turning over to endless winter.

“My heart races when I think of her.”

“Aw,” Deku said, his mouth turning down in one of those smiles that radiated out even when it curved the wrong way. “You do. But wait, you asked if you could, uh, make love if it’s onesided. Why do you think it’s onesided?”

“Because she didn’t say anything,” he reasoned. “And her actions could have meant a lot of different things.”

“Shouto,” Midoriya put a hand on Shouto’s shoulder, “obviously I don’t know the whole situation, but do you really think that her actions would mean anything other than her liking you?”

“I just…” Shouto made a block of ice in his hand, thinking of the fine control you had over your quirk. You could take this crude creation of his and turn it into something utilitarian, whimsical, beautiful. Then he took it in his other hand and melted it away. “I always thought I would be a solo hero. But I really don’t want to have to keep doing this without her.”

“So go,” Midoriya said. “You said she’ll be back soon, right? Go to her then. I can handle,” Midoriya gestured to the light flurries around them, “all this.”

Beyond the flurries there were only a few pedestrians, clad with umbrellas. There was a fairly steady parade of slow-moving cars on the city block, but no one seemed to be in a rush today. The snow made everything quiet.

“But I still don’t know—”

“You know, Shouto,” Midoriya said, an assured smile on his face. “So go do what you need to do.”

Upon getting to the airport, you’d had access to the internet for the first time since you’d left, and the first thing you’d done was google Todoroki’s name. You had to make sure that he was alive and uninjured. In doing so, you’d stumbled across heaps of articles with photos of him and Hero Deku, a few of which mentioned your absence and yours and Todoroki’s esteemed partnership.

Was there a partnership to come back to? Or had it been dissolved in your absence and you’d have to become a solo hero or settle for sidekicks until a new partner came along.

You weren’t sure that you’d ever be able to partner with someone else after working with Todoroki.

You’d become much stronger in your time abroad—you knew that now—but you wanted to bring that back to Todoroki. You wanted to show him what you’d learned, wanted to feel that power in a battle alongside him.

On the airplane, you tried to push all that aside and focused on Japan. You’d packed so sparely for the trip that the few pairs of socks you’d brought were threadbare, your costume in need of a replacement. You thought of the warmer weather, the longer days, the familiar faces, and your own warm bed.

By the time you landed, you’d almost convinced yourself. You hailed a car, enjoying in the easy Japanese you exchanged with the driver rather than the broken English you’d brought with you to Russia.

All you needed was Japan. You could worry about everything else later

You had the car drop you off on the corner of the street from your apartment building. The snow was coming down, but it was different than it had been up north. It was only just starting to stick, each step leaving a bald spot on the sidewalk that would be filled again in a few minutes. The chill wasn’t bitter, the air no longer biting. For a moment, you reveled in the snow. It would likely be melted by noon tomorrow and, despite all the snow you’d just left, you’d still miss it when it was gone.

When you approached your building, you noticed a silhouette loitering outside through the dimming light of the afternoon. The sun set only an hour later than it did in Siberia—still not nearly enough daylight. No one knew that you were returning today, so this person couldn’t be waiting for you, but you still used your quirk to sweep away the snow to leave your vision unobscured between yourself and the figure.

You recognized the hair immediately. The last thing you’d seen before you’d left.

“Shouto?” you called, your pace increasing as you released the snow and it flurried back to fill the void you’d created. “What are you doing here?”

That rare smile tugged at his face and then he was coming your way, arms outstretched.

“I missed you so much.”

You felt his hands coming to clutch your arms first. Then, not a moment later, his lips slanted over yours and your suitcase toppled to the ground.

His lips were cold. The cheek your hand came up to touch was cold. But his tongue was hot, and you could feel the heat spreading throughout you as wildfire on kindling kept too dry and too isolated.

He pulled away too soon, your mouth taking in a breath of frozen air when it had expected another touch of his lips.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked,” he said, taking a step back.

“No, it’s okay!” you reassured him, feet creeping half a step forward, feeling the crunch of snow under your boot. “It’s just…we’re in public.”

You remembered last time, when Shouto’d had the foresight to save any physical affection for the privacy of his home. A good call, as it seemed that any knowledge of your stolen kiss at the bar hadn’t leaked.

“And it seems a lot of people have been enjoying taking your picture lately,” you said, referencing all the photos you’d seen with him and Deku.

He smiled again—maybe they weren’t so rare after all. “I don’t care. I mean, if you do that’s fine, but I want people to see us together. Because…I want to be together. If you do.”

He took your hands in his and you wished neither of you were wearing gloves. You wished all the bundled layers between you would fall away—you’d been in cold worse than this.

“I do,” you said, and you leaned in to kiss him to prove your point. If he was okay with people seeing, you didn’t care either. Your boss could take it up with you later. “I really do.”

“Good,” he said, and his hands slipped up your arms before wrapping behind you, pressing you against him. You clung to him, fists clutching the fluffy material of his coat. “I know that maybe it’s too early to call this a relationship or anything—”

“I don’t think so.”

Todoroki fell silent at your interruption, waiting for you to continue. But, for a moment, you contented yourself in breathing in his scent, before pulling your face away to look into his eyes, pupils wide from the dimming light.

“A friend told me that a relationship isn’t the only way to have a partnership with someone. That it wasn’t the only circumstance around which to have true feelings for someone,” you explained, thinking of Dell.

“You were thinking about this while you were away?”

“Every day.”

He kissed your forehead, and then his eyes urged you to continue. “What did you think about?”

“Well,” you started, feeling flush from the gesture, “the way I see it, things usually go crush, partnership, sex. Or, I guess if you’re feeling impatient, crush, then sex, then partnership. But we kind of did: partnership, crush, sex. We have all the right pieces, they were just out of order.”

“That’s not so bad,” he murmured, low voice sounding deep and rumbly so close to you. If you didn’t have the soft layers of your overcoats between you, you’d be able to feel the vibrations under your skin.

“So the only thing we really need to catch up on…is dating.”

Your eyes met his shyly, a question hidden in your words. Todoroki wasn’t always good at reading between the lines, but you were good at reading his face. You saw the understanding in his eyes.

“Well,” Todoroki said, looking around. “I understand if you’re sick of the snow, but it’s not that late yet. Maybe we could go for a walk and see where it takes us?”

“I’m never sick of the snow,” you said with a grin, taking one hand off Todoroki’s back so that you could pull all the flakes that had fallen on his person at once and swirl them in your hand, just like you’d done in the bar so many months ago. One of your favorite tricks since you were a kid. Then you dropped them to the ground with their brethren. “I even got pretty good with it.”

“Impressive,” Todoroki said. His voice was deadpan, but the brightness in his eyes hinted at his intrigue.

“I learned some tricks while I was away.”

“I can’t wait to see them,” he said. “And, you know, I don’t mind a little snow either.”

A snowflake landed on your cheek and before it melted, Todoroki leaned in and kissed it, replacing the cold with his heated touch. When you left the embrace, you remembered your suitcase flat on the ground, handle outstretched. Todoroki saw your gaze and reached for it, but you did him one better. You grabbed the thing and pushed it into a hedge outside your building, totally obscured in the low evening light. Todoroki raised a brow at you, but you just smiled, summoning snow and turning it to ice. You wrapped it around your suitcase, sticking it to the ground, and giving it a coating too troublesome for a thief to bother with hacking through with a pick.

“It’ll melt,” Shouto said. “We can just take it up to your room or leave it in your lobby.”

“No,” you said easily, looking up at the falling snow. “I don’t want to miss a moment of this. And besides, it won’t melt. I told you I’ve learned some tricks.”

And, just like always, he didn’t question you. He simply offered his hand to you and you took it as though it was ordinary. As though the many times you’d been side by side over the years had always been linked with a hand, not just trust.

Then, without a destination, you took off strolling. The night wasn’t nearly as dark as it had been in your little cabin in Siberia, what with all the city lights. The air was still below freezing, but you’d never felt warmer.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, before the air fully settled and left you in a lull of silent contentment. “Why did you bring me home with you? Back then. Did you like me and just didn’t say anything or…?”

Todoroki was quiet for a moment, the night air filled with the drone of slow-moving cars and the beeping of city crosswalks.

“It was nothing I had thought about before,” he admitted. “But when you kissed me, I wanted to kiss you back…because it was you.”

That didn’t really tell you anything. Nothing about what he’d felt before or after, nothing about how that had led him to waiting out of your building to kiss you again. But, at the same time, it told you everything. Because, after all, it was the same reason you’d kissed him. That you’d liked him at all. Because he was your partner, your best friend, the person you trusted with your life over anyone else.

Because…it was him.

#todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki smut #shouto todoroki smut #shoto todoroki smut #not/sfw #bnha smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #todoroki imagines #todoroki imagine #shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader

549 notes · View notes

its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

would u possibly do some NSFW morbell? where they're up in colter ( i loved ur original morbell post on them ) pls do more as i love ur blog 💛

this is an absolute mess oml i literally have no idea how to write anything smutty but here we go i guess. I love this pair but i kinda went off topic and centred this on a praise kink for micah. ANYWAY this is probably terrible since i'm melting, its literally 40 degrees and the aircon is broken so its unedited af and i wont look at it again until i have a cold drink. but pls enjoy some morbell <333

------------------------------------

‘Cold up in Colter’

Fuck, what a mess Blackwater had been. The Pinkertons were on them faster than ever and they found themselves fleeing from a blood bath.

That was almost three days ago and Micah hadn’t had an ounce of sleep. He’d been sent out with John to scout ahead, having found a homestead which ended up burning at the hand of O’Driscoll’s. Okay maybe house burning down was his fault but he tends to make stupid decisions when he’s had little to know sleep. And it was so fucking cold.

That didn’t stop heat rising to his face when he felt Arthur’s hands on his shoulder, pushing him back with a roughness he could only wish for in another way. Damn Arthur Morgan and his ability to have Micah curling in on himself and blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of a hand on his shoulder.

He should hate Arthur, really the two are nothing more than rivals, competing for the spot of Dutch Van Der Linde’s right hand. At the beginning, almost six months ago now, Micah couldn’t stand the sight of the man but somehow that anger tapered off into something more akin to admiration and that admiration slowly turned to desire.

He’ll never admit to how badly he wants Arthur but he won’t deny however that he’s pushed the man’s buttons more than once just to have an interaction with him. All he had to do start a silly argument over camp earnings or a bet at five finger fillet to have the man shaking him by the collar and threatening to break his nose.

It almost always ended with Micah sneaking off into the woods with half a bottle of whiskey and his pants bunched around his ankles as he thought of the way Arthur roughed him up by his shirt collar. Fuck he was pathetic sometimes.

There were other occasions where the two had actually managed to get along and that’s what pissed Micah off more than any threats of violence. Arthur just had to go and bring him a beer as he grabbed one for himself, letting their fingers touch accidentally. Or he went and offered him a seat by the fireplace where they ended up much to close for his comfort. Damn Arthur for always leaving him short of breath with a hole in his heart.

Despite what Micah did to impress Dutch, Arthur was still the camp’s favourite by a mile and he never failed to outcompete him in the eyes of the gang. Micah never minded much, not looking for anyone’s approval, but the thought of proving himself to Arthur, of being worthy of his praise is enough to have his wild side reined in.

Naturally that didn’t stop Micah from losing it from time to time and wasn’t surprised when his jealousy shot up again as Miss Grimshaw announced Arthur got his own cabin while he shared with the rest of the fellers. And he’d be damned if he had to share a room with Williamson who didn’t stop snoring.

That’s why he found himself huddled in the makeshift stables, choosing instead to wrap himself in his coat and down a bottle of whiskey to wait the night out. He cold planks he was sitting on offered little comfort and the draft in the room had his lip shaking. But at least he wouldn’t have anyone in his hair and he’d be left alone, just the way he liked it.

Of course that didn’t last long when the cranky wooden door was barged open, spooking some of the horses in the opposite end of the room. A broad figure entered the room, blocking most of the door way but that didn’t stop to whoosh of cold air flood into the room, draining even more colour from his face.

It wasn’t until the door was closed and the man stepped closer when he realised it was Arthur.

“Micah? What the hell are you doing in here?”

Arthur sounded surprised, with only a hint of concern in his voice.

“Sleepin’— what the hell ya doing here Morgan?”

There wasn’t much of a response from Arthur, only a quiet noise which was barely heard over the whistle of the wind between the planks. He walked over to the horses, checking over them and ensuring none of them were freezing to death. Micah watched in silence, scared to disturb the man as he patted along Taima’s neck.

It wasn’t until after Arthur had checked over all the horses did he turn his attention to Micah.

Micah watched as Arthur’s gloved hand extended out and offered itself to him, he hesitated before taking before taking it and being pulled to his feet. Arthur’s hand draped over his shoulder which he didn’t realise had shaking in an effort to keep warm, having drunk the remaining whiskey from the bottle.

“Common now, yer gonna freeze in here alone.”

Micah dug his heels into the ground, not allowing Arthur to pull him any further to the door as he tried to hold his voice steady. He’d be damned if he ever let Arthur know just how much he affected him.

“I ain’t sharing a bunk with Williams—“

Arthur tutted, pulling Micah out the door as he pushed him towards his cabin in the snow storm.

“Quit yer yapping, you’re sharing with me and I ain’t having any more folk die tonight. Now let’s go.”

Arthur didn’t utter another word until they were well and truely in his room, wrapped in a blanket that was barely big enough for the two of them. The bed wasn’t much bigger, having been made for one person which was evident by Arthur pressing against Micah’s back in efforts for them to fit. The only thing that kept them apart was the fabric of their jackets, otherwise Arthur would probably hear Micah’s heartbeat which was beating much to fast for his liking.

The uncomfortable silence was broken when Micah cursed under his breath which caused his teeth to chatter and Arthur spoke up.

“Yer still cold, c'mere”

Micah’s breath fell short as Arthur’s hands slid under his coat, resting his hands on his tummy to use his body heat as a source of warmth. In doing so Arthur had moved even closer, ensuring Micah’s back was flush against his chest.

Despite that Micah wanted to protest, to go straight to his default of arguing he couldn’t help but feel as he began to warm up and he slowly relaxed under his hands.

A blush rose high on his cheeks as Arthur also relaxed into their embrace, accidentally letting his hands drift lower until he felt the hard press of Micah’s straining erection against his knuckle.

Micah instantly sucked in a breath, panicking and trying to push his way out of Arthur’s hold.

“Shit Arthur I—“

Micah froze as Arthur gently pulled him back to the bed and rubbed slow circles along his stomach.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not mad…”

Arthur held him close, letting him relax before talking again before he whispered right into the shell of his ear.

“…This what you want? Is this why you’re always staring at me from across camp, why yer always picking fights and asking me to robberies?”

A high pitched noise left Micah as he shivered, feeling Arthur’s hot breath against his ear. His blush deepened as he pushed back slightly into him, whimpering at the feel of Arthur’s own erection pressed against his ass.

Fuck it, he thought as heat pooled in his abdomen and he finally allowed himself to have the one thing he’d been craving for months. He nodded frantically, grinding back onto Arthur’s clothed dick and squirming in his grip.

“Relax boy, gonna give you everything you’ve been waiting for— just be good and you’ll get it”

Micah nodded in agreement, a needy, desperate sound leaving him at the promise of praise. He wanted, no needed to be praised by the man so badly that he’d do anything for an ounce of it from the man.

“Oh god Arthur! I need it, need you. Fuck I can be good I promise.”

He knew he was probably being too loud but apart of him didn’t have it in him to care. He moaned softly as Arthur moved him to roll onto his back, towering over him but ensuring they were still kept under the blanket.

Arthur spent the next ten minutes undressing him without exposing much of his skin to the cold. He unbuttoned the lower buttons of his leather jacket, enough for Arthur to work his fly down and pull one pant leg off. He whined pitifully, grabbing at the lapels of Arthur’s coat in a silent plea for him to undress him properly.

Micah mentally scolded himself at just how desperate he was for Arthur to rip his clothes off and fuck him like a bitch in heat but he knew that wasn’t happening any time soon. Arthur however caught on pretty quickly to what he wanted, it seemed the man knew just what made him tick.

“I know sweetheart, once we’re well and truly outta here I’ll get us a room and we can do this properly.”

Micah’s eyes beamed at the thought of Arthur taking him to a hotel in the future, panting as his mind raced with images of Morgan making him fall apart on his cock for hours on end.

While Micah was busy in his mind, Arthur took the opportunity to retrieve the gun oil from his satchel. It certainly wasn’t the best option but it was their only choice with their limited supplies.

Arthur draped himself back over Micah’s body, kissing at his jaw and nibbling as he coated his fingers. The air was cold, only making the oil feel colder as he slowly dipped his index finger past Micah’s rim.

A devilish grin came to Arthur’s face as he heard Micah sigh and take his finger easily, deciding to work his way up to two sooner than he was expecting.

“You’ve wanted this for a long time haven’t you? I saw you once, bout a week ago. Head down, ass up with three of yer fingers inside you while you cried out for me to fuck you. It all clicked in my head then when you started acting different around me at camp.”

Micah flushed a deep red, coughing on air as he realised Arthur knew about his little crush. He tried to think of an excuse, to weasel his way out of it but his thoughts died in his head when Arthur twisted his fingers, scissoring and stretching him open before adding a third.

Arthur dragged a lip along Micah’s cheek to his lip, ghosting his lips over his before kissing him properly. This time Micah didn’t even try to fight for dominance, opening his mouth instantly for Arthur’s tongue to enter. Instead he sighed into it, pulling his legs to wrap around his waist as his hands wrapped around his lover’s shoulder.

It went on like that until Arthur was satisfied that Micah was well prepped enough, simultaneously rubbing against Micah’s prostate while he kissed him deeply. He only pulled away to pull his own leaking member out, bunching his pants around his thighs so he had enough room to move but could stay warm. He coated the rest of the oil onto his member, jerking slowly as he stared down at the sight of Micah below him.

Micah looked like an absolute mess against the pillows already, his face was flush and the scarf around his head had unwrapped slightly, revealing his disheveled blond hair. His chest was heaving as he panted and his thighs shook from pleasure as the weakly wrapped around his waist.

“You look so pretty like this sweetheart”

To say that Micah hated the pet name was a lie, one that he didn’t try deny as he moaned softly. His back arched and he gripped Arthur’s coat tightly as he felt his cock slide between his cheeks and over his hole. He’s wanted this for so long now and yet somehow it still didn’t quite feel real as his mind was clouded with arousal.

Micah’s toes curled and he moaned when he felt Arthur push into him, slowly inching forward until he felt him bottom out.

“Ah— ah! Oh Arthur fuck! Please fuck me, I’ll be good I swear.”

Micah practically sobbed with pleasure as Arthur set up a fast pace, pulling almost all the way out till just the tip was left inside his tight hole before pushing back in quickly, brushing his prostate in the process. His cock twitched from where it rested against his tummy, pinned between Arthur’s jacket which caused a string of moans to fall from his mouth.

“Look at you, so good for me— fucking perfect Micah. Such a good boy”

Arthur’s hands came to hold onto Micah’s hips for leverage, pulling on his slight muffin top under the jacket to help pull him back to meet his thrusts. Beneath him he heard Micah whine and whimper at the praise so desperately needed to hear.

Micah bought a finger up to his mouth, biting on his knuckle to silence any more noises he deemed to be pathetic from slipping out of him. He hated how close he already was just from being praised by Arthur.

It seemed Arthur wasn’t having any of it when he pulled his finger away from his mouth before kissing him like he had done not that long ago. He swallowed every one of Micah’s noises, mindful of Dutch sleeping next door and slowing his thrusts to something deeper and slower.

His hands roamed all over Micah’s clothed body, breaking away for air and whispering praises down his ear.

“That’s it, make those pretty noises for me sweetheart.”

Micah eye’s rolled into his head as he cried out.

“You’re mine, all for me— my good boy.”

More moans slipped from his lips.

“Atta boy— taking me so well, so good.”

His back arched and he withered in his embrace

“So eager to please aren’t you? I’ll take care of you now boy.”

“—Arthur! I’m close— Ah, I’m gonna—“

“Go on sweetheart cum for me…that’s it good boy.”

Micah’s whole body when rigid as he finally came. His mouth hung open, tongue lolling out as his orgasm dragged out with each thrust Arthur delivered, eager to chase his own.

He collapsed into the pillow, thighs shaking as he whined at the oversensitivity. It didn’t last long before Arthur’s thrusts changed pace to something more erratic, picking up the pace as he spilled his load inside him.

Arthur groaned into his neck, pulling him close and collapsing into him as he regained his breath.

He pulled out slowly with a wet and obscene pop, sitting up and helping Micah put his clothes back on. Micah only weakly managed to fiddle with the button on his jacket while Arthur gently manhandled his jelly-like limbs to fit back into his pant leg. He used the blanket to wipe the cum off his tummy, a weak attempt at cleaning up and something they would both no doubt regret come tomorrow morning but for now they were keen to sleep after such a horrific and chaotic few days.

Arthur pulled Micah into their original position for the night, the only difference being that his face was now tucked into his chest. Arthur rested his chin of Micah’s head, littering his hair with kisses as he played with his hair between his rough fingers.

Micah was the first to fall asleep, curled up with his forehead against Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur wasn’t far behind him either, finally letting himself get some much needed rest but not before he pressed a soft kiss to his hairline.

#morbell #micah bell #arthur morgan

65 notes · View notes

after-witch · 3 years

Text

Pinned [Yandere Shigaraki x Secretary!Reader]

Title: Pinned [Yandere Shigaraki x Secretary!Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve given him a kink and isn’t that your fault, really? Follow up to “Office Hours.”

For request:

-I can’t stop thinking about your secretary fic, I think it gave me a tickling kink that I never knew I had. I would absolutely love it if you wrote some more of creepy Shigaraki and his captive secretary!]

Word Count: 1334

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, tickling, just some kink PWP

You’ve given him a kink.

Okay.

A few kinks.

And maybe they were dormant inside him all along but seeing you in your stockings and heels and that fucking blouse when it gets translucent and sweat-soaked underneath his fingers--you complained about the sweat but shit, it can be thrown in a washer if you really care that much--has awakened something in him. An itch that only you can scratch--or rather, an itch that he only wants to scratch with you. And sometimes that scratch is literal, depending on his mood.

Which is why he’s staring at you now. You’re sitting at the desk he’d found on the street, a scratched up ratty thing with a bum leg that someone was throwing out. Your fingers are flying over the keys of the laptop--his laptop, but he’s nice enough to let you use it, WiFi disabled of course--and who knows what you’re typing but what you’re typing isn’t actually important.

As long as as he can focus on the way your back arches in the uncomfortable chair, the way you idly slip a heel off and flex your stockinged foot, the swishing sound your skirt keeps making when you shift against the tattered leather seat. You were trying to drive him crazy, weren’t you? You had to be. Every sound, every movement, designed to make him want you. Need you.

Fuck, you were perfect.

He’s glad more and more that he took you, rescued you, really, from that shitty hero you called a “boss.” Hypocritical asshole. If Tomura hadn’t acted first, that lowlife do-nothing (seriously, you could’ve aimed for a higher caliber of hero) was surely aiming to get you into bed. Maybe he was spiking the orange juice at your boring little brunches. Maybe he would have told you he’d help your career if you “helped him.” What a sicko.

You’ve slipped both of your black heels off entirely and fuck, fuck, fuck. He presses his knuckles to his mouth and groans and your eyes dart to him and away and that’s it, he can’t sit here, half-paying attention to a video game anymore. He sets the controller down and he sees right away that your body is tensing up, wondering what he’s up to; well, you’ll see, won’t you? You were practically begging him to come over there, so you shouldn’t be surprised.

“Tomura--”

Your voice is sweet and he knows you want him to go sit back down, so you can work--”work”--but he just can’t. You’re making it impossible for him to leave you alone. Can he help it if the way you keep glancing at him, pretending you don’t care (but you don’t) what he’s going to do sends a thrill down his stomach?

And you really tense up once he makes up his mind what to do, plopping down on the stained carpet and ducking his head under the desk. You make to tuck your legs behind the chair, but you’re too slow, and he gets a firm grip on one of your feet easily.

“Tomura,” you say again, urgency overpowering the sweetness.

“Quiet,” he tells you. “Just keep working.”

Your foot seems made to fit in his hand, and no matter how you try to pull away, his grip stays firm. He wonders if it ever dawns on you that his hands can do so much worse than tickle. Not to you, though, never to you. Not that he lets you know that--a little threat in the air is needed, particularly when you’re being stubborn. It’s not like he can threaten to dock your pay if you don’t fall in line, right?

“Come on,” you whine, when he brings up his other hand and begins to stroke your foot, up and down, deceptively patient on his part. Your foot curls as much as possible and he can hear your breath, hitching and huffing.

This is his favorite part. When you try to block it out--when you’re surely thinking that maybe this time you can hold out long enough, and he’ll get bored and go back to gaming.

You’re silly.

He’ll never get bored of you.

He also knows that you can never make it that long without giving in. All it takes is a bit of digging, itching into the nylon with a single finger, and there--like always--you break, and your bubbling, beautiful little laugh makes his stomach do flips. Whatever feeble typing you were doing before ceases entirely in favor of your hands banging on the desk, pounding helplessly on the wood.

Fuck.

Do you know what you do to him?

Fuck.

He’s chewing on his bottom lip before he knows it and there’s a bit of blood in his smile as he glances up, almost pensive, not wanting to look straight up your skirt like some kind of perv.

“T-T--Tomura,” you grind out, voice fizzy and light and breathy and laughing. “Please-stop-please-stop,” and he can’t see your face but he bets your eyes are squeezed shut, bets the eye makeup is running a bit, bets your mouth is stretched wide and he wishes he could be up there and down here at the same time so he could kiss you.

He’ll have to get you on the couch if he wants to do that.

A quick glance up, the sight of your nyloned thighs underneath the skirt rubbing together as you squirm on the chair, is all he needs to change positions.

Your sigh in relief when he lets your foot ago, and when he gets out from under the table he can see that he was right--your mouth is still slightly curved in a helpless smile and your makeup’s a bit runny and your breathing in and out, catching your breath underneath that slightly sweaty white blouse. How, how, how did that dipshit hero who hired you not bend you over his desk the first day you walked into the office?

Not that it matters. Not that your former employer matters. Not that anyone should matter to you anymore but Shigaraki Tomura, right?

He feels your muscle tense up, tight and wary, but decides to be gracious and ignore it as he looms behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your scent. A glance at the laptop screen shows what you were writing--I’mboredI’mboredI’mboredI’mbored, how cute; but he wastes no more time before leaning forward to shut the laptop and pull the chair--and you-- backwards, until the back of the gaming chair rests solidly against his chest.

The sound you make as as gravity pulls you down can only be described (affectionately) as a squawk, and your throat looks smooth and exposed as you stare up at him, probably hoping the chair doesn’t fall out from under you. You’re so damn cute. Hot. Perfect. His.

“Couch or chair?” He asks, and your eyes dart around for a third option that doesn’t exist. You bite on your lip, cherry red smearing a bit on your tooth.

“Couch,” you practically sigh the words out of your mouth. You start to lift yourself out the chair and pause, tentative. “Tomura?”

He hmms, only half paying attention, instead focusing on the way your body looks as you finally slide out of the chair and perch yourself on the couch in anticipation.

“Keep your damn fingers out of my armpits this time.”

He won’t make any promises.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #afterwitch writes #wait do people still use PWP...

281 notes · View notes

redorich · 4 years

Note

STOP, BUT ALSO KEEP GOING

“Niki.” Bad stares her down from across the clearing, with Skeppy at his side.

Niki starts to shrink into herself at the icy expression Bad’s making, paired with Skeppy’s distraught demeanor. Stress frowns, stepping forward to stand firmly at Niki’s side.

“Niki, why are you on their side?!” Skeppy demands. Niki flinches, but stands tall.

“Dream lied to us, all of us. Tommy ran away from Dream and the hermits helped him, but the moment Dream found out he told us all that the hermits were the bad guys, so we’d do his dirty work for him.” Niki says, hoping desperately that her friends will believe her.

Bad’s nose scrunches in that way that mean’s he’s frustrated. Usually it’s cute. Now it’s menacing. “Watch what you say about my friend, Niki. I’ve known Dream for a long time.”

Niki spits, “And I’m not your friend?! If we’re the ones who saved Tommy, then why’d we put him in a prison cell?”

There’s no use, Stress realizes. Removed as she is from the situation, not knowing these people personally, she can see that nothing is going to convince Bad that he isn’t doing the right thing. One look at Skeppy’s face confirms that he’s going to follow whatever Bad says, even if Skeppy has his doubts about whether Tommy’s actually better off in the Dream SMP.

When Niki strikes a nerve within Bad, he draws his axe. Before anyone has time to react, Stress decapitates him. They’re obviously done talking.

Skeppy gasps, falling to his knees at Bad’s corpse and whimpering nonsense at the body. Niki puts her hand over her mouth, teary-eyed and more than a little sick, but resolute nonetheless. Skeppy gasps wetly, followed by Niki and then Stress when Bad’s entire body turns to dust, fluttering away in the wind only to reconstitute itself in Bad’s image, once again a living and breathing demon.

“Bad?” Skeppy whispers.

“Silly muffin,” Bad says, booping Skeppy on the nose, “I told you I’ve got infinite lives. As long as you’re alive, I can’t die.”

Handing Skeppy a gleaming netherite axe, Bad withdraws a trident from his inventory. The grassy clearing fills with tension as the sky goes dark in an appropriately cinematic rainstorm. For a moment, everything is still save for the swaying of the grass in the cool wind. Bad’s head nods ever so slightly, and the two explode into action.

Skeppy immediately goes after Niki, hefting his axe with all his might. It crashes down on Niki’s shield. Unable to block from two directions, Niki is forced to rely on Stress to cover her back when Bad loops around to flank her. The two women stand back to back, supporting each other.

Bad batters away at Stress’s shield with the prongs of his trident. In a daring move, when Bad brings the weapon down again with the intent to splinter the wood of her shield, she thrusts it into the weapon, embedding it deep into the ruined wood and giving her a chance to slash at his eyes. He stumbles back, momentarily blinded, so she takes the opportunity to press forward. Obviously, she can’t kill him-- he’ll just reform, and reforming will probably heal any damage she inflicts on him. She can’t beat this man, she knows, but she doesn’t have to. All she has to do is incapacitate him, hold him off long enough for Niki to win her fight.

“Bad!” Skeppy yelps.

Bad growls. “I’m fine, focus on Niki--” Bad hisses when Stress stabs her sword through his non-dominant hand.

Skeppy peels off from Niki, swinging his weapon so quickly and ferociously that when Stress dodges, she can feel the wind from his axe whistle across her face, very nearly taking skin from the tip of her nose. Her dodge takes her into a patch of dirt made muddy by the rain. She oversteps, falling on one knee; it’s a lucky mistake, because had she not, Bad’s trident would have gone through her chest instead above her head. Behind Stress, Niki blocks the very tip of the trident, then retaliates with a perfectly executed axe crit.

She can see it in slow motion. Niki aims for Bad, but Stress’s fall pushes the two women to the side. Niki’s axe digs into the curve of Skeppy’s collarbone and the man collapses. She’s killed before, but this-- this is something else. There’s far more blood than she’s used to, since she hit him almost exactly on the neck. Niki feels so far away from her own body as she watches what must certainly only be a few seconds, but feels like a lifetime: Bad’s eyes blow wide in rage, he raises his trident high, and--

His trident is in her ribcage.

Despite the overwhelming pain, she smiles. No more little miss nice girl, no more being a side character for her. She’s stood up for what she believes is right, and she’s about to die for it. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Niki is just lucid enough to witness the way Bad pulls his hood down, water and tears and blood and ichor all streaming down his face. He turns to Skeppy, already disregarding Stress as a threat in favor of the overwhelming loss he’s just suffered.

“You muffinhead,” he says, leaning down to lay a clawed hand on Skeppy’s forehead, “I would have been fine. Why’d you have to do that?”

Skeppy doesn’t hear it. He’s already dead.

“Do you want me to kill her for you, Skeppy?” Bad asks mildly, voice trembling. Stress clutches her sword tighter.

Bad nods shakily. “Okay, Geppy, I’ll avenge you. It’ll be o-okay.” His voice breaks on the last word.

Niki’s vision finally goes dark to the sounds of grinding metal on metal, screams, and sobbing. Right on the edge of her hearing, as the ringing in her ears overwhelms all else, she hears Dream.

“Stand down!”

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #badboyhalo #skeppy #nihachu #stressmonster101 #stressmonster #dreamwastaken #tw injury #tw death #me.cpp #Anonymous

351 notes · View notes

mosswillow · 4 years

Text

Synonyms - Dark!Loki x Reader.

Warnings: Dark! 18+ adult content. Smut, noncon/dubcon, stalking, kidnapping, vaginal fingering.

Summary - You’re average in every way, Loki doesn’t think so though.

A/N: This is the last part of the Synonyms series. All of them can be read alone or together. I think it’s a little better when read with the rest, especially since this is the ending but I honestly don’t care if you read just one or all or none, you do you.

This is not my best work but you know sometimes you just have to let stuff go. I’ll shrug it off and keep writing. This is a hobby that I do for fun, I try not to take it too seriously.

Word count: 1.4k

You’ve always been an unexceptional person, average in everything - intelligence, looks, athleticism, creativity. You’re not good or bad at anything, always doing what’s expected of you, nothing more or less. You graduated highschool and went to a state college for a four year degree, graduating middle of your class and landing an entry level office position in the city.

Now you spend your days at your boring 9-5, answering emails and going to meetings. Your co-workers are nice and your boss is tolerable. You should be happy but something inside you tells you there’s more out there, a life waiting for you outside of the monotony. You’ve spent your whole life on a straight line and want desperately to know what it feels like for it to twist, taking you somewhere unexpected.

It rains outside your window and you observe a little boy jump in puddles, the pure joy that melts off the child makes you smile. You’re not sure exactly why the boy puts this thought into your head but you make a spontaneous decision to go camping. You’ve always wanted to go camping and even though it’s something small, the impulsiveness of the decision makes you giddy. You need to get out of this office and into nature. You need to jump in puddles and hike trails, to sit in a quiet place and sketch a river. You need something different. You send an email informing your boss that you will be taking the week off starting Monday and gather your things.

You’re in a hurry to get home, wanting to pick a campsite right away so that you can leave first thing in the morning. The elevator opens and you don’t see him standing in the lobby.

But he sees you.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” he steps in front of you, blocking your exit.

“I’ve worked here almost a year,” you say.

He paces around you, examining you in a way that makes your entire body tingle. He steps behind you, measuring his body against yours and brushes his hand over your cheek gently.

“How fortunate we ran into each other.”

You shudder, taking several steps away, “I should get going.”

“I’ve been looking for a very specific set of characteristics,” He takes a long stride towards you, closing the distance until there’s hardly an inch between you.

You don’t care if you’re being rude, you step away from him and book it home, locking the door as soon as it closes behind you.

You wake up early, packing your car and heading upstate. You take your time setting up your campsite and relax for a moment enjoying the quiet.

You hear something from the woods and for a few minutes you only see shadows before he saunters out of the trees.

“Why did you run off so fast yesterday?”

Your jaw drops.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The man strolls toward you lazily.

“I came to take you.”

You reach for your phone and he’s beside you in a second, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to drop it. He pulls you close and smells the crook of your neck and you respond by elbowing him.

“You’re a feisty one,” he coughs.

You sprint through the forest until you can’t run any longer. You’re pretty sure you lost him, You didn’t hear him behind you as you ran and don’t hear him now.

“Boo”

He puts his hand over your mouth before you can get a scream out.

“We’ll have to work on all of this baby, it’s ok though I’ll have fun breaking you in.”

You kick and squirm but he holds you tight, dragging you back to your tent with ease. He pushes you inside and gets on top of you, holding your hands over your head.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“How rude of me, I never introduced myself.”

He leans down and kisses your nose and cheek before claiming your mouth, pushing his tongue in with a moan. Electricity moves through his body, leaving his extremities and dispersing into you. Your mind screams no but your body betrays you. Heat radiates from your pussy and you push your thighs together trying to tame the arousal. You relax into him and he lets go of your hands, feeling down your body. He rips your shirt open and kisses down to your breasts.

“Yes, you’ll do nicely,” he purrs.

You squirm as his mouth makes its way to your pussy. He slides a finger in you as he licks and sucks. You reach down and gather his hair into your hands, pushing him closer and grinding against his mouth, coming harder than you’ve ever come. the world fades away and you’re suspended in pure ecstasy. The straight line you’ve followed your whole life has twisted into something wonderful. You open your eyes and look down at the smirking man between your thighs.

The thing about twisting lines is that they never stay going the same trajectory, they curve back again suddenly forcing you to hold on while life crashes into another lane. You’re brought back to reality when he flips you over and enters you roughly. You cry out in pain but he doesn’t slow down. He slaps your ass and pushes on your back until your chest falls down.

“I’m Loki.” He says as he comes in you.

He gets off of you and you scramble up, covering yourself in a blanket and looking at him with wide eyes. He crouches in front of you, running a finger down your cheek.

“We’re going to have so much fun.”

You blink back tears.

“I don’t understand, why me? I’m so... average.”

Loki cocks his head to the side. You try to look away and he grabs your face and squeezes until you look at him.

“There’s no such thing darling, you’re perfect in every way.”

He reaches between your legs, cupping your pussy.

You think about running but the way he looks at you tells you that he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He silently communicates to you that running away from him again will only lead to pain.

“Sleep now.” He says.

“I’m no...” you black out.

When you wake up you’re in a car, hands bound together with Loki in the driver's seat. He takes you to Stark tower and leads you through a private entrance and up to the avengers private living quarters.

“Loki, what did you do?” Tony says.

“I found one that I liked so I took her.”

Loki pushes you onto the couch and you look around at the Avengers, all of whom sit with beautiful women. They give you sad looks and you hold back tears as you realize that nobody will help you.

“Fuck!” Tony says

“I thought we were kidnapping women?”

“You weren’t supposed to just snatch one. Now there’s a whole mess to clean up.”

“Thor just took his.” Loki says

“He has a point.” Sam says.

“Thor had that whole betrothal thing.” Tony holds the bridge of his nose.

“Touche.” Loki shrugs.

You make eye contact with a woman who stands at the entrance to the room, obviously shocked. She’s not part of this, you realize, she’s here by mistake. You mouth “run” and she takes off. Loki sits next to you and kisses your neck.

“It seems we’ve been noticed, a maid I think.” Loki yawns.

“I’ll have to send someone to take her out. It’s sad, I really liked her,” Tony sighs.

The room is silent for a moment while the weight of Tony's words flow through everyone.

“I’ll take her, I want to keep her,” Bucky announces.

“Really Buck?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“He’s always had a thing for her, he’s just too shy to act on it.” Natasha says

“Okay, go now Bucky. I guess we have two disappearances to cover now. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me.”

Tony stands up to leave and you push gently against Loki’s suffocating embrace.

You’ve always been a fan of the Avengers, so grateful to them for everything they’ve done for humanity. You want to throw up now. You look around at the room full of beautiful women, all so different from each other and realize that Loki was right, there’s no such thing as average. All your life you’ve felt the same as every other person, unremarkable and boring. As you look around at the absolutely gorgeous women you recognize that they’re you and you’re them. You didn’t do anything to get here and neither did they but here you sit. You’re not average because everyone is, and if everyone is average then no one is.

You’re different from each other in a complex and mysterious way but also mirror each other like twins.

Synonyms.

#dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #dark!Avengers #dark!mcu

348 notes · View notes

meimae · 4 years

Text

Language Learning Through Immersion: One Year Japanese Update

11/03/2021

I did it, you guys! I’ve successfully reached my very first year of Japanese language immersion! I honestly thought that I would have given up by now, but this really has been a fun and ultimately rewarding endeavor.

Studying the language has been at the back of my mind for years since elementary school, I just never really knew how to go about it before, and I always thought that I could learn it in a classroom setting someday. That someday for me was in two elective courses in university, and while those were fun as well, it did not give me the same gains that I have achieved in this past year.

It’s probably easier to quantify learning a language in a classroom setting, especially when going through a program to earn a language degree. Learning through immersion, however, I had to really consider what my goals should be on my own. Eventually, I stumbled upon an article saying that for an English speaker, Japanese was exceptionally difficult to learn and that at least 2,200 hours must be spent with the language to reach a certain level of proficiency. So I said to myself, “well okay internet, if you say so!”, and set that as my long term goal going forward.

Spoiler Alert: I did not hit that goal in my first year. I am not crazy and will never listen to Japanese in my sleep regardless of what Khatzumoto (the creator of All Japanese All the Time) says.

I did, however, hit a total 1,226.65 active immersion hours in my first year, so I guess I’m still a bit nuts. That is 874.96 hours of active listening and 351.69 reading hours. I also did 270.59 hours of passive listening, also known as the time in the very beginning of my immersion where I was using Japanese subtitles (therefore not really concentrating on listening alone). That’s a cumulative 1,497.24 hours spent with Japanese. That’s more than halfway towards my goal!

To further break that down for curious animanga fans out there, that’s 973 episodes from 109 anime, 765 episodes from 33 dramas, 7 movies, and 967 chapters from 107 volumes of manga (21 series). Here’s my anilist and mydramalist to see what I’ve read/watched.

During all this, I was also doing my daily Anki reps and now I have a 530 day SRS streak (includes the time prior starting immersion and only doing RTK and some vocabulary cards) and a total 8,857 sentence cards. I’ve been averaging 406 cards daily (because I’m trying to cure my leeches) and I spend about an hour per day doing reps and learning new cards. I don’t really track my time on Anki, but I do have a set timer that goes off after 1-1:30 hours.

What I haven’t touched upon at all is output. I have not gone out of my way to find a tutor or a language partner. There’s still plenty of input out there to immerse in before I even consider outputting.

Graphs, stats, and more thoughts:

Here's my current card count in my main deck (minus the cards in my new/learning queue and leeches I've been relearning which are in separate decks):

That one day in 2019 where I did not do my cards because I was seriously doubting whether I can actually stick with language learning this time around will forever haunt and inspire me to keep going everyday.

Workflow and Tips

You might be wondering, how do I have a lot of time? I started this whole endeavor in the middle of a pandemic, which eliminated the option of me going to a language school, and a slew of other things I were considering doing last year became impossible (and if anything, very scary to do in a pandemic). All I can say is that, things work out eventually if it is His will, and if I can learn a skill before everything properly settles back down again, then why not?

I wake up at 5 in the morning everyday to either do my Anki reps or read until the time when I need to get up and I listen to compressed audio throughout the day. The biggest tip is to switch the time you spend watching/reading in your native language to your target language instead. Listen to a podcast during your commute, watch an episode during lunch break, read before going to bed, do your Anki reps in the bathroom if you have to.

But, if you’re feeling burnt out, there is no reason for you to not take a break! I have been watching a lot of Among Us streams before bed, and I chat with my friends from time to time. Language learning is not a race.

More Stats

Here are a couple of grids of the kanji characters that I have encountered at least once in my immersion and how well I have answered them in my vocabulary/sentence cards.

It's interesting that after almost 9000 words, I have yet to encounter every single character from the Remembering the Kanji 1 (RTK 1) book by James Heisig, which teaches you the most common use characters that are part of the 常用漢字. Which brings me to the question, was writing down every single character being taught in RTK worth it every time it came up in my reviews for the first 3-ish months I was reviewing them? Maybe, maybe not. It certainly removed my anxiety whenever looking at blocks of text in Japanese, but the longer I think about it, the more I feel I should have switched to Recognition RTK earlier. Still, being able to write in proper stroke order is cool I guess, and it also helps me when looking things up in the dictionary.

Here’s the same grid but in JLPT order:

I clearly need to grind those N2 and N1 level cards! Speaking of which, I have apparently almost covered every single character that could possibly appear in the JLPT (except for the N1 which I have only covered half of) in just a year's time. If the JLPT word frequency lists I’m using are accurate, I have about 2,000 words more to go to to cover most vocabulary that could appear in the test. This makes the "10,000 sentences/words to fluency" argument a reasonable milestone to aim for for Japanese learners if said aim is only to pass the test. That said, 10,000 words is just that, a milestone. It's more akin to a comfortable level of comprehension, but not my own concept of fluency which is being able to read with ease, speak articulately, and write comfortably.

READING IMMERSION GRAPHS

My biggest motivation for tracking my stats is for the purpose of seeing whether my reading speed is improving over time. Reading speed is also easier to measure than listening comprehension which is kind of subjective, so I had a lot of fun making these. What I found is that for the first volume or chapter of whatever it is I’m reading, I always take the time to get used to the writing style of the author. My speed really improves whenever I keep reading the same topic over and over again. On the other hand and quite obviously, looking up many new words in a row and trying to parse sentences slows me down.

Manga: Reading Speed Progression per Volume

I clearly love ちはやふる and I am not ashamed to admit it.

I need to start reading longer manga. When I do, I’ll probably split this graph into less than and greater than 20 volumes. Imagine if I start reading something ridiculously long as 名探偵コナン or ワンピース, these graphs will start breaching the bounds of time and space.

Novels: Time Spent Reading per Chapter

#neverforget the time I read chapter six of Norwegian Wood for 9 hours when it took me less than half that time in English RIP. Also, my interest in Kitchen plummeted LOL. Still planning to finish it don’t worry.

I also need to start branching away from manga and start reading more novels and light novels, too just so I can make more pretty graphs.

Visual Novels: Time Spent Reading and Daily Word Count

Also known as images that clearly show that I’ve already spent several days only reading the prologue of Island. I’m not sweating. 切那 needs to stop using words I don’t know in succession. More thoughts on this VN far into the future.

Thoughts on Immersion

I can’t really say anything else other that that it works for me, and needless to say if you’re considering this method, remember that the SRS is your friend but immersion should be your one true love.

Prior to all this, I couldn’t even read a sample paragraph from Genki without being confused to my very soul. Yes, I know, it’s embarrassing, but that’s the truth. I was way more scared of failing my Japanese classes than my actual thesis for my bachelors degree, I kid you not. I would quite literally spend all my free time in university trying to understand grammar, memorize vocabulary, and answer my workbook exercises with little to no success.

I tried so hard to get all the grammar “formulas” into my head for 1.5 years and it only brought me more confusion. I’m never going back to traditional classroom study for language learning, but I will still refer to grammar books when I need to, and not because I feel like I need to answer 4783342 different workbook exercises like my life depended on it.

I still can’t believe it, but with immersion this statement is actually true to a point, don’t try shadowing anime/or calling your boss anime language slurs, use your common sense:

study anime to understand Japanese > study Japanese to understand anime

Future Goals/Plans

2,200 immersion hours was my initial goal, but honestly I feel like that number could be much higher. There’s still a lot of stuff I don’t understand (news, politics, sciences, etc.), so I’ll make attempts to cover more of those things in my immersion.

I’ll continue reading more, because that’s a natural SRS in itself. Try to read longer manga, more novels, visual novels, and light novels, and maybe news articles.

I’ll try to mine as much “JLPT vocab” as I can before making any attempts at taking the JLPT. I noticed that a lot of the words I know don’t appear in the JLPT word lists as much, even though they appear a lot in media/daily conversation.

Continue mining all words I don’t know because all words are useful anyway. There is no such thing as useless words. I never really understood mining only “interesting words” or words that “pop up” in your immersion. As I said in my previous blog post, 美人局 is an interesting word and I certainly caught it being said in my immersion, but in the three languages I know, I wouldn’t know when I would be able to use such a word, as compared to something like ジャガイモ which is a significantly less interesting word, but is certainly useful to know.

I have managed to talk up a storm, but if you have any questions regarding my process or recommendations for new immersion material, please feel free to send an ask/reply to this post. I love hearing about other people’s language learning/immersion journeys.

See you on my next post!

#language learning #japanese language #language acquisition #study blog #langblr #studyblr #graphs #language immersion #japanese #visual novels #manga #novels #anime #dramas #movies #youtube #podcasts

126 notes · View notes

ranboo5 · 3 years

Text

Dropping the Ranboo mixtape

Anyway at time of starting to write this post I had two likes and two affirmative replies, which is Good Enough For Me, so here I am :D I was gonna link the YT but on second thought my YT channel is a mess so this is gonna be one of the annoying ones that doesn’t link to one you can actually listen to but

This is also a running list and currently organized roughly by increasingly hotter takes and it’s under a cut bc it’s 13 songs and I justified all of them

Everybody Likes You (Lemon Demon) - LISTEN THE ANIMATION MEMES WEREN’T LYING THAT EVERYBODY LIKES YOU CAN RANBOOCORE. The increasingly distorted, incredibly bright repetition of EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU until you can hear it morphing in and out of EVERYBODY LIED TO YOU? Tell Me That’s Not Him In The Spiral Depths

Tall (Naps the Block on YT) - This is a) literally a theme for the End, b) sounds stumbling and anxious/high-strung, and c) echoes the Pigstep melody in the middle while still very much doing its own thing this is self explanatory

Dance of Thorns/Old Secret mashup (Tensei and James Roach respectively, feat. woodfur00 on YT) (yes this is Homestuck music) - It’s just the vibes. The energy. The way the elegance of the violin lines of Dance of Thorns sounds almost nervous especially against the almost noir mystery vibes of Old Secret, and the guitar lines of Dance of Thorns add like. Initiative/urgency especially when they underlay the other music it’s so good I don’t think either song alone is Ranboo vibes but this remix definitely is. Just the mix of perseverance and desperation and melancholy and mystery and Class

Touch-Tone Telephone (Lemon Demon) - This one is old news but tbh it just works. Man decides he’s the correct one in this situation and he’s losing his entire mind that no one is listening to him because he just is not

2012 (Will Wood) - This one isn’t really clever it’s just about memory loss, derealization, identity, and often self-hatred (“A miserable fuck, but a loud Tao mystical” is a lot). “Did you lose yourself?/It’s always in the last place that you check” sounds so mocking in ways internal monologues like Droice have been and “I might find myself/By retracing my steps” is literally just Ranboo dealing with the Enderwalk; “And not until lobotomy abolished my monotony/Did I applaud autonomy, and modify a lot of me!” works so much for him Dealing With Himself generally, and also “I heard the world would turn to hell/Compared to that, I’m doing well!” is a Him sentiment

Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In! (Will Wood) - Jokes about the three hour mining/grinding streams aside. Not only is the chorus so heavily a spiral/self-evaluation mood, but literally consider his thought processes abt the things he’s done/allegedly done and then consider “My dreams were shattered like a stained-glass window/Jesus in pieces! I believe I through a brick right through Him/But my memory could not be saved!/It just seems unlikely that it’s me who was to blame/So I bookmark my DSM, ‘cause I need to remember my place.” And now with the advent of the “experiments” the second verse’s “Take the road on higher ground, and tell me ‘don’t look down! You’ll fall and break your back’/But that just reminds me how there’s more to be found beneath the black!” is more relevant than ever

Friends With You (The Scary Jokes) - Oh my god. Oh my fucking god man. This could be on here for “I put myself to bed just halfway through the party/I love all my friends, but I hate when their eyes are on me” alone but the general almost empty saccharine vibe of the song is immensely his vibe; the humorlessly-smiling vocal fry on “don’t know” in “Why do you pretend/You don’t know who’s to blame?” is probably responsible for 80% of this read. Not to mention the first lyrics are literally “How long do I have to wait/’Til my lonely days are over?” which is really the. The waiting it out man the So When Do I Get To Be Okay of it all. Shoutouts also to “And the crumbling infrastructure no one else can see,” the self hatred of “I miss being friends with you/But what can I do/What can I do/But leave you alone?” and to “And I can tell you really love me/Can you tell I’m really sorry?” Just. The mix of hope+affection and dejected cynicism and self-hatred in the lyrics

Saline Solution (none other than Mr Wilbur Soot) - Remember what I said about waiting it out until you get to be okay? Anyway that’s crystallized in “If I could just break one more night/Maybe I could wake up and feel alright” and also this is literally a song about catastrophizing and self-evaluation just,, in general and I will not be highlighting all the lyrics about this but I will highlight the fact that he literally calls himself pragmatic and also the lyric “blurring the facts and the fiction.” Also, the sheer desperate anger-concealing-breakdown vibes of “I think I’ve made my choice” to “I think I’ve found my voice” deserves a mention, as does the culminating end of “saline solution to all your problems” with the tears+now splash water motifs of it all with Ranboo I am going to die

Funny (The Scary Jokes) - This is actually a softer take but not only does it literally start with the singer pleading with the addressee to look away, it continues with “I went up in the middle of the night and I climbed right onto the stage/And I raged/And I cried/Oh, what a funny joke am I” disregarding everything as performance, reemphasizes the opening demand with the qualifier “it’s not that I hate you, it’s just that I’m funny these days,” and then kills you with the last couple lines which. Yeah he does care and it does,,, just,,,,, a

Chemical Overreaction (Will Wood) - This is where the mood VIOLENTLY whiplashes because this is where we get unhinged. Anyway “I won’t stop to drop to draw a line in the sand/’Cause I’ll be picked apart to pieces by coyotes!” is LITERALLY the whole “I don’t do well with ‘peer pressure’” thing. “Where the sentimental value of the city around ya/Is deleted obsolete, but still completely will stun ya” is the single most L’Manberg lyric I’ve ever heard, especially from the perspective of a character whom I will repeatedly insist is narratively in the role of someone who’s shown up and seen the status quo as an outsider after it’s been established (hence the eternal New Kid vibes). Chorus very much has vibes of Ranboo Is Seized By The Urge To Do Something, and like. The entire dramatic end part. The last two lines especially (be very careful if you look up the vieo for this by the way it is NOT pretty; cws in the video for flashing, blood, suicide imagery)

A Mannequin Adrift (The Scary Jokes) - The Bitterness. This song is just fully The Bitterness at the environment he’s stuck in; the saccharine comes back as does the “peer pressure” thematic and just the Having An Awful Time; the sarcastic saccharine comes back too, which is always good I love passive aggression. Honestly the first verse is just everything like just listen to it it immediately makes sense

Poison Ivy Grows (The Scary Jokes) - This is overall a song about having bad brain and not knowing what the hell to do about it; it’s so faintly bitter and distant and melancholy and also so zoned out. Also, it’s not the only lyric that matters here but it is enough to be a full argument on its own: “I used to spend so much time/Wandering around outside/Now I’ve got too much on my mind/Now I’ve got too much on my mind”

Spring Haze (Tori Amos) - Listen. Do I know what Spring Haze is about? No. Is that gonna stop me from saying it’s about Ranboo? Also no. I just think “You say we’ll never make it there/So all we do is circle it” is so much, the fact that the bridge at the end is just “Why does it always end up like this?” repeated, and that it just feels so much like overall the song feels like a desperate attempt to figure Something out, and the chorus is just inexplicably him? It might be partially influenced by the fact that “Uh-oh, let go, off on my way” and, to a lesser extent, “Uh-oh, way to go” is not only in accordance with character vibes but also vaguely evocative of Ranboo’s speech pattern

#this also has a couple songs pending addition #this post is just That Enderman Is Deeply Troubled. Listen To Scary Jokes

70 notes · View notes

f0rever15elf · 4 years

Text

They Were Roommates: Part 3 - The Dog

Part 3 of They Were Roommates: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 (Coming soon) Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x f!reader Rating: NC-17 Word count: 5,524 Warnings: Smut (again, not sorry), oral (m receiving), vaginal sex, dry humping, teasing, soft!pero, blood mention, food mention, swearing, no beta

Summary: Pero wants a dog, and this leads to several big decisions.

A/N: @whiskeyslasso once again coming in clutch with the inspo! Also, this chapter puts this whole story at just over 21,000 words in three chapters. I am astounded.

Masterlist | Ao3

You have no idea how you had let Pero convince you to go to the shelter, you really don’t. Yet, here the two of your are, hand in hand, waiting for your turn to play with the dogs who were up for adoption.

“Pero,” you sigh, looking up at him.

“Mmm.”

“We really don’t have room for a dog right now. The apartment is too small, and a dog deserves a yard to be able to run around and play in. I’d feel so bad keeping it inside all day.” A pout pulls at the corner of your lips as Pero pulls you closer to his side, a heat flushes your cheeks. This still not something that you’re use to. When the staff member waves the two of you back, Pero all but yanks you forward as he nearly sprints into the back. You can’t remember a time ever seeing him more excited.

“We have dogs of all ages available for adoption today, mainly mutts where we have only been able to guess at pedigree.” The poor girl leading you around is nearly drowned out by the overwhelming amount of barking.

“That does not matter,” Pero speaks up quickly, and you smile.

“Fantastic. I can’t tell you how many people we had come in looking for pure breeds.” She shakes her head, opening the gate to the play pin. You can’t help the sound that comes from you, somewhere between a coo and a whine as you collapse to the ground to be attacked by the dogs. You love the furry beasts, you really do, but you just…don’t know about having one right now. Pero kneels beside you, petting the animals as they venture towards you both, the frown lines on his face lessening ever so slightly. You take pause when you hear a sonorous boof! looking up just in time to be waylaid by an absolutely massive dog, the furry beast sending you sprawling flat on your back as it attacks your face with excited licks. Pero is terrified for a moment that you’ve been hurt until he hears your laughter as you try to sit back up. He helps to ease the dog off of you, distracting it as he showers it in attention and scritches.

“This dog is magnificent,” he grumbles, scratching behind her ears and you nod before grabbing his sleeve to wipe off your face. The look of disgust and disbelief has you near bursting at the seams when you look back up at him. “That was disgusting, bella.” You grin at him before moving to pet the dog yourself. Overwhelmed with the attention, she flops against Pero nearly knocking him down to show her belly which you happily rub.

“Ah, yes, this one is a really sweet. She doesn’t have a name yet, came to us earlier today, actually. An anonymous drop on our front patio, kennel and everything. We think it was a case of she got bigger than the owner was expecting.” The staff member hovers over your shoulder, smiling. “She’s mostly Newfoundland, not sure if she’s a pure breed though. Clocks in about about 120 pounds, the heavier end of Newfie females.”

“She is perfect.” Hearing his comment, you open your mouth to protest as you look over to Pero, but the look in his eyes has you melting on the spot. “Isn’t she, hermosa? Strong and beautiful. Like you.” Heat rushes to your cheeks as the shelter staff member bubbles about how adorable the two of you are. “Please, hermosa?” Your will falters under the gaze of your new boyfriend, but it’s when you look at the dog that you truly cave. The pup is staring up at you with eyes that match Pero’s, such a soft brown. She looks so happy as he lavishes her with attention, her tail wagging non-stop.

“O…Okay, Pero…we can take her home.” He reaches out for your hand, giving it a squeeze before refocusing his attention on the dog. The staffer hands you the adoption paperwork for you to begin filling out.

Where the hell were you going to be able to keep this massive creature?

~~~

“This might have been a mistake,” you sigh, dropping your face into your hand as the new companion wanders around the small house, taking in the smells. “It’s like we adopted a small horse…”

“Hermosa,” Pero comes up to you after having set out the food and water at the end of the kitchen for the furry behemoth prowling your home. “We must name her, eh? Something fitting of a beauty like her.” His hands make their way around your waist, pulling you to him as you bring your hands to rest on his chest. The skin between his eyebrows creases in serious thought. “Perhaps Esmeralda?”

“You mean like from the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

“From what?” He asked, starring down at you puzzled.

“What do you mean ‘From what?’ Have you never seen that movie?” He shakes his head and you gasp, feigning offense. “That cannot be allowed. We’ll watch it with dinner one of these nights.” He just nods, clearly still confused. “As for the name…I like it, so long as I can call her Essy.”

“No, her name is Esmeralda, not Essy.”

“But Essy sounds so cute!” He grumbles for a moment about how it diminishes the name until you get tired of it, reaching up to pull his lips to your own, silencing the grump. His grip around your waist pulls you a bit more tightly to him causing you to smile into the kiss. When you pull away, you reach up and tap his nose, giggling at the way his face scrunches in mild distaste when you do.

“Fine…you can call her Essy,” he grumbles, resting his forehead against yours.

“Gracias, gruñón.” His hand moves to smack your ass lightly and you squeak, pressing up against him as a low chuckle reverberates in his chest.

“You could call me so many other things, yet still it is gruñón you choose.”

“What, should I call you mí novio? Guapo?” You get up on your tip toes as you pull his head down so his ear is level with your lips, whispering. “Papí?” You swear you hear the wire snap holding Pero’s self control together as he hoists you over his shoulder, heading to the bedroom with a sharp smack on your backside again. You squeal at the smack, face flushed hot. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing you on the bed before crawling over you, crashing his lips against yours in a needy kiss as his arms cage you underneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, grabbing fist-fulls of his soft hair in just the way he likes. Every time Pero kisses you, you find yourself getting lost in all of it. The taste of him, the feel of his lips, the sound of his sighs and grunts as he grinds against you…it always borders on too much in the most pleasurable of ways.

Surprising him, you shift your weight to knock one of his arms out from underneath him, wrapping your leg around his hip to use your weight to roll the both of you over. You sit there straddling his hips, smirking down at him. The surprise on his face lasts only the briefest of moments before his eyes darken, hands landing firmly on your hips to drag you against his crotch. You let out a soft, needy moan, leaning down to kiss him…until you hear a whimper from outside the door and you freeze. Your eyes lock with Pero’s for a moment, and you consider just leaving the dog out there and continuing your fun until you remember that you’re a renter, and you have absolutely no desire to have the dog damage anything.

“Sorry, Pero. We may need to wait until the baby is asleep.” You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before removing his hands and hopping off of him. Pero grumbles something too fast, too low, and too in Spanish for you to catch, probably something about being cock blocked by a dog, before he gets up to follow you. Slowly opening the door, you’re very nearly mowed over again by a very excited, very large dog. Your downstairs neighbors were going to hate you…

~~~

It had only been a week since the newest addition to your household had joined you, but in that week you could already tell she had Pero wrapped around her paws.

“No giant dogs on the couch,” you said, only to come home literally that same night from a late shift to see your man and his dog cuddling on the couch.

“No, she can’t sleep in the bed Pero,” you had told him as he borderline pouted at you. Well, as close to pouting as you have ever seen the man with the permanent scowl get. When you stepped out of the shower a bit sooner than he had expected, you saw Pero shoo the dog from the bed as he attempted to play innocent.

But for all of the rule breaking and spoiling, Pero takes very good care of the dog. The first thing he does when he gets home after kissing you is take the dog for a walk while you cook, and it shocks you a bit just how easy it is for you to settle in to this routine. Less than four months with your grumpy Spanish man, and you are already finding it difficult to not call yourselves a family.

Pero is out on one of those walks with Esmeralda at this very moment as you slice up onions for the stir fry. Your mind wanders a bit too far from the task at hand, lost in thought about what the future could hold for you both, until you hiss as the blade catches your thumb, the knife in your hand clattering to the ground.

“Shit! Fuck!” you scream, clenching your teeth as you run to the sink, trying to avoid getting blood absolutely everywhere from the deep gash in your thumb. Your ears ring at the sight of the blood running down the drain as you try to remember to breathe. You had never been able to stand the sight of blood, especially not your own. The sound of the front door and large paws on the wood floors is a welcome relief as your knuckles turn white from the harsh grip on the sink.

“Hermosa, we’re back,” Pero calls from the front door as he removes his shoes.

“P-Pero…” you groan, hardly audible over the sound of the running water in the sink. The shaking in your knees finally becomes too much and you hit the ground, the world spinning around you as your ears ring. Pero calls your name and you’re vaguely aware of his footsteps as he runs to the kitchen. A string of profanity slips from his lips as he grabs a towel, wrapping it around your hand as he cradles your body against his. “B-blood,” you try to explain, praying the contents of your stomach decide to stay where they should.

“Shhhh, cariño, I’m here. It’s alright, it is just a small cut. I will take care of it, and of you.” Once your breathing has evened out, Pero stands, helping you up as you cradle your hand to your chest. Your thumb was starting to throb and you bite back tears because of it. He ushers you to the bathroom, scowl firmly in place. To anyone else, he would appear irritated at you, but you could see the concern that was present in his gaze. He sits you on the toilet seat before rummaging in the medicine cabinet for the alcohol and bandages. “Don’t look.” Calloused fingers gently turn your head away before he takes off the towel, quickly pouring a bit of alcohol on the wound. You whimper and try to pull your hand away out of reflex as it stings, but his strong grip around your wrist keeps you firmly in place as he blows on the cut, the cool air soothing a bit of the sting. Once it’s dry, he wraps a bandage around it, making sure the cut is pressed firmly together. He brings your bandaged hand to his lips, kissing it gently before kissing each of your knuckles, gazing back up at you. Tears shine in your eyes partially from the throbbing of your thumb, and partially from the embarrassment of what just happened.

“Are you alright, belleza?” The concern lacing his voice causes you to sniffle as you try desperately to fight back the tears, nodding.

“I was daydreaming and the knife slipped… I really hate blood Pero.” Your bottom lip trembles and he brings his hand to gently cup your cheek. Leaning into the touch, your eyes slip closed for a moment, the pad of his thumb running along your cheekbone to soothe you. When you open your eyes again, he is watching you with that same intense stare, like he’s working to memorize every single line of your face. As if at any moment you would slip away from him.

“I will clean the kitchen and finish dinner. You rest with the dog in the living room, alright?” All you can do is nod, the tenderness in his gruff voice so soothing you just want to melt into it. The corner of his lip quirks in a small smile before he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. He helps you to your feet, holding you steady as you slowly make your way to the living room. Essy is already on the couch, and she lets out a whine as Pero helps you over, easing you down. You immediately cuddle up to the fluffy beast, nuzzling your face into her fur. Ok…yeah, the puppy can be on the couch, you decide. Pero pets your hair gently, whispering comforting words of affection before heading to the kitchen.

When the stir fry is done, Pero brings a small serving to you, taking his place on the very little remaining space left on the couch. You pull your feet up to offer him more room, but he just grunts, moving your legs so they rest in his lap. “Eat, hermosa. You’ll feel better.” He was right, you know he was, so with a sigh you sit up, grabbing the plate.

“It smells good, Pero. Thank you for finishing everything.” He nods, grabbing the remote to flip on the TV, not making a big deal out of anything.

“What was this movie you demanded I watch when we named Esmeralda?” His eyes flick to you then back to the TV.

“Oh, right! It’s called The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Here.” You hold out your hand for the remote and he obliges, grabbing his fork to begin scarfing down his food. You are convinced this man would never be able to eat normally. “It’s one of my favorites,” you mumble as you flip through the movies you have, settling into the sofa when you find it. The sound of the opening music always made you smile, and this time is no different. Pero sits quietly after scarfing down his food, a hand resting on your shin to rub soothing circles absentmindedly with his thumb.

As the credits roll, you look up to him expectantly. The grumpy scowl is still on his face as he turns to look at you. “Well?” you ask, curious to know what he thinks.

“The music is good. I see why you like this film.” He reaches to take your bandaged hand, leaning over to kiss it again, succeeding in making your heart flutter. “Bella, where did your mind wander to for you to hurt yourself like this?” His voice is still gruff, but softer now, concerned. “You are always so careful in the kitchen. What happened?”

You swallow thickly then clear your throat, trying to focus on the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you had been together for so short of a time, would this scare him off? Shaking your head, you decide to bite the proverbial bullet. “I was thinking about us,” you whisper, your gaze falling on your connected hands. When he says nothing, you continue. “I was thinking about moving. The dog needs a yard, a bigger home to play in. Pero, she’s over 100 pounds…we can’t keep her if we are going to stay here, my landlord will kill me. That is, if my downstairs neighbors don’t first.” You look up, the worry plain as day on your face. As always, his face is grumpy and unreadable. His thumb has stilled on your hand, causing your chest to tighten with anxiety. The silence in the living room is stifling, you just need him to say something, anything. Even if it is a no, that’s better than this insufferable silence.

“You want to find…a home together?” His voice is soft, layered with surprise and a look up to his face kicks your heart into a sprint. You’re sure he can hear it with how loud the beat sounds in your own ears. His face has softened as he watches you, the lines smoothing in the way you usually only see when he sleeps.

“I know we haven’t been together long, and that this is a big step, and that it’s asking a lot, and that you may not be ready, and-” Your ramblings are cut off by Pero pressing a sweet yet firm kiss to your lips. When he pulls back, the corner of his lips pulls up is a small smile.

“Belleza…hermosa…la luz de mí vida. Cálmate. I think you are right.” His thumb resumes its gentle circles against the back of your hand as your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Y-you mean it?”

“Of course. Esmeralda needs a yard, as you say. And I think it will be good for us to have a home together. I want a home with you.” He squeezes your hand again, his face drawn and serious. For a moment, you don’t move, processing what he has said. When all the gears finally click into place, you scramble to shift around throwing your arms around his neck with a borderline reckless abandon, hiding your face against his neck. His hands rest in the small of your back, holding you against him. You try to find the words to tell him just how you feel, but they fail you, so you elect to just hold yourself closer to him, breathing him in in the silence. You feel him rest his head against yours as he heaves out a content sounding sigh, leaning back against the arm of the sofa as he holds you to his chest. You would be happy to stay like this forever.

Pero’s hands trace lines up and down your back before fiddling with the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding up underneath it to drag his fingers across your skin. You shiver against him at the touch, pressing a gentle kiss above his pulse point. You feel the vibration of the growl in his chest more than you hear it, and it draws a smile to your lips. Leaning back, you brush his bangs from his forehead, excitement coursing through you at the sight of his eyes darkened with need, eye as intense as ever.

“You know,” you purr, resting your hand on his jaw, the stubble tickling your palm. “The furry one is asleep so,” you lean forward, nibbling at his ear, “we can go pick up where we left off earlier.” The words barely have time to leave your lips before Pero is standing, your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. Your giggle in his ear sends a shiver down his spine. God how he loves that sound.

Rather than tossing you on the bed like he normally does, this time he takes a seat, your legs still around his waist. He brings a hand to your cheek, guiding your lips to his in a desperate, tender kiss. You bring your hands to cradle his face gently, eyes closed as you drink him in, lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, moving in time with yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You rock your hips ever so slightly against him, swallowing the soft moans the action pulls from him before leaning back, looking up at him with the softest gaze you can manage. His hands rest on your hips, gently massaging them as he lets you set the pace, not wanting to rush you tonight. “You know,” you whisper as soft as you can manage, not wanting to shatter this moment with words far too loud. “If someone had told me that this would be my life four months ago, I would have laughed at them.” Pero smirks and nods, pulling your hips more firmly against his own, earning him a satisfied hum.

“Had you not shown up that morning, I was going to leave this city.”

“Then thank God I happened to bump into you. Literally.” The coy smile on your face paired with the sultry slur of your voice fans the flame of desire inside Pero, and his hips buck against your, earning a delicious gasp from your lips as it pulls a low groan from his throat. Your hands brace on his shoulders as you rock yourself against him, whimpering with need. “L-lay back,” you nearly moan and he does as instructed, staring up at you with those dark eyes you adore so much. The way he watches you every time makes you feel like the most beautiful woman on the earth and sends your confidence soaring without fail. “I want to make you feel good tonight.”

“Hermosa, you always make me feel good,” Pero mumbles, watching as you tug your shirt off over your head, eyes falling immediately on you chest. Your skin flushes hot as you smirk, running your hands up his stomach to his chest, leaning in to kiss him quickly. His mouth follows yours as you lean back again, hands traveling down to his pants to quickly undo the button on his jeans that are rapidly becoming too tight for his liking. You swing your legs off of him, tugging his pants down right along with his boxers, discarding them on the floor.

“Scoot up on to the bed.” The borderline commanding sound in your voice causes Pero’s cock to twitch, bringing a smirk to your lips as he does as instructed. Tugging off your own pants and panties rather gracelessly, Pero makes use of the moment to rid himself of his own shirt before you’re crawling back over him like some tigress stalking her prey. He has never seen such a confident hunger in your eyes before and he can’t even begin to describe the way that look is affecting him. You crash your lips against his, wasting no time in nibbling at his bottom lip. He gladly parts his lips for you, your tongues dancing fervently as you revel in the taste that is so entirely and uniquely him. You drag your nails down his chest causing him to shiver against you, his hands snapping to your hips.

“Easy, tiger,” you whisper against his lips before beginning to kiss your way down his jaw, occasionally leaving gentle nips as you trail down his neck, over his chest. Your teeth graze against his nipples at which Pero draws in a sharp breath, his hand reaching up to grip your hair. Smirking against his skin, you continue on your path downwards, kissing down his stomach which tightens under your touch. You follow the path of soft hairs below his navel down to the curls at the base of his cock, your chin brushing against him. Your eyes flash up to his as you grin, neglecting his cock in favor of kissing along the inside of his thighs, nibbling gently at the skin in a manner not unlike the way he first teased you when he had his head between your legs. Pero’s legs tremble under your touch, his hips bucking ever so slightly as the neediest moan you have ever heard from him escapes his lips, followed by a frustrated growl.

With a grin, you finally take the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning softly at the taste of him. The hand in your hair tightens for a moment before relaxing, trying to remember to be gentle with you as your mouth renders him unable to form a coherent thought. Achingly slowly, you begin to bob your head along his length, hollowing out your cheeks as you do. With every movement, you draw another beautiful sound from your Spaniard; a moan, a grunt, a hiss…and it all sounds like music in that deliciously deep voice of his. You need more. Taking a deep breath, you lower your head, taking him as deep as you can till your nose nestles in the curls at the base his cock. Pero lets out a choked sounding moan, eyes snapping down to you, wide with surprise. He tugs at your hair, trying to ease you off of him as he feels his release rapidly coming on.

“C-Cielo, fuck, I-I’m gonna…” You resist the tugging on your hair, looking up at him with hooded eyes as you reach up to cup his balls. The look in your eyes as you play with him is enough to finally send him toppling over that edge, a string of profanities, both English and Spanish, pouring from those beautiful lips of his. His hand in your hair tightens its grip as he goes rigid underneath you as he fills your mouth. When he finishes, you slowly let him out of your mouth as he watches you with a look of disbelief and desire. That coy smile still on your face, you swallow, opening your mouth to show him.

“Dios…” His low and husky voice sends a shiver through your body as he sits up, the hand in your hair pulling you to him for a rough, sloppy kiss. He groans at the taste of him on your lips, grabbing your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back until the tender flesh slips from between his teeth. “Mí princessa perfecta…” His voice drips with arousal and desire, low and gruff in his chest.

“Let me ride you, Pero.” The confidence and desire in your voice surprises even you, but you know it has the desired effect when you feel him twitch against your thigh, already getting hard for you again.

“You will be the death of me, mí cielo…” He smirks at you as he lays back, hands resting on your hips. You lean down to kiss him again, unable to get enough of the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin against yours. His fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he works himself back up. You reach down to ghost your fingers over him and he jumps in your hand, bringing a smirk to your lips. Quickly reaching for a condom in your nightstand, you sit back to tear it open with you teeth. Pero’s eyes ravage your body, a flush across his cheeks and chest as he waits for you. Deciding you are taking too long, he runs a hand across the front of your hip and over your mound to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing quick circles against you.

“F-Fuck,” you hiss, a tremble running through your body as you lean forward, bracing yourself against Pero’s chest. When your eyes find his face, he’s smirking at you with a look that you are sure you had been wearing only moments before; confident and self assured. With a shaky hand, you grab his wrist, grinding against him a few times before pulling his hand away. You grasp his cock, quickly rolling the condom on to him as his hand grabs your hip again. The low hum that you pull from him as you do sends a warm tingle straight to your absolutely dripping core and you raise yourself up on your knees, shifting forward just enough to slowly lower yourself down on to him. Your head falls back as you breathe out a moan when your hips meet his, fully seating him inside of you. Pero’s nails dig into your hips as he fights to hold on to his self control and not flip you over to pound you into the mattress.

Bracing your hands on his chest, you raise your hips ever so slowly before sliding back down. Your eyes find Pero’s, just as delirious and drunk on pleasure as your own. You let out a heady sounding moan at the sight of that handsome, grumpy face creased in the pleasure that you provide him, quickly speeding up your pace, the sound of skin slapping skin as you bounce on him made all the more lewd as your arousal drips from you, coating his thighs. The moans and whimpers of pleasure tumble from your lips in a near constant stream, only to be punctuated by a near scream as Pero works to meet your thrusts, hips lifting up against you as you slide down against him. You slump forward, overwhelmed in pleasure and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly to him as his hips snap up against you at a relentless pace.

“P-Pero, oh fuck, Pero!” You whimper against him, turning you head to bite at the skin of his shoulder, earning a hiss from him, his hips stuttering for the briefest of moments.

“I want – hng- I want you to cum for me, nenita. Please,” he growls in your ear, nipping at the earlobe as he slams up into you. You nails dig into the skin of his chest, leaving half-moon divots in the feverish flesh.

“S-Say my name,” you beg, desperate to hear it tumble from his lips. And when it does, your body tenses and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. You clench down on Pero, ripping a guttural moan from his lips as he chants your name over and over again like a prayer. He slams into you only a few times more before his own orgasm seizes him in throes of pleasure, holding your hips tightly against his own. You whimper out his name at the feeling of him twitching inside of you, closing your eyes to press your forehead against his shoulder as you pant for air.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms abate, he lowers his hips slowly to the bed and you raise your face from his shoulder, smiling fondly down at him. A sheen of sweat covers his near glowing skin, his lips parted slightly as he tries to regain his own breath. His fingers have resumed the gentle lines along your back as he calms down, softening inside of you. You lean in to press a kiss to his left cheek, then the right, then his nose before finally his lips. One of his hands moves to cradle your head gently as your lips work against his at a lazy pace. Breaking the gentle kiss, you rest your forehead against his, a smile gracing your lips.

“You’re stunning, mí cielo,” he mutters, his hand resting on your cheek. You giggle softly, turning to kiss his palm.

“And you take such good care of me.” Your reply has the flush returning to his cheeks as he grumbles something about it being his job, only causing you to giggle more. You bite your lip as you lift your hips just enough for him to slip out of you, slide off of his chest to cuddle into his side. He takes care of cleaning himself up with the tissues you conveniently decided to start keeping on the nightstand before he pulls a blanket over the both of you, cradling you to him as he leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I can’t wait to make a home with you, mí cielo,” he murmurs against your hair, causing your heart to skip a beat. You press a gentle kiss to his chest and hum softly in acknowledgment.

“Regardless of where we end up, so long as I’m with you, I’m already home.” Pero’s arms tighten around you at your confession, your voice thick with pleasure and heavy with sleep. You hear his heart speed up in his chest, and you smile. He gives you a grunt in agreement, but the beat of his heart gives away his excitement. Slowly, your eyes slip closed as exhaustion overtakes you.

“Te amo…” The words are but a breath, and you aren’t even sure you actually heard them as you dance on the precipice of unconsciousness. You could ask him tomorrow, you think, as you slip into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~

Translations: Bella - Beautiful Hermosa -Gorgeous Gracias – Thank you gruñón - Grumpy mí novio – my boyfriend Guapo -Sexy papí – (Do I really need to translate this?) cariño - Darling Belleza Beauty la luz de mí vida. - the light of my life Cálmate – Calm down cielo – literally: “sky.” used to mean “heaven” Mí princessa perfecta – My perfect princess Nenita – Baby girl mí cielo – my heaven Te amo - I love you (used for lovers)

Tag list: Permanent: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @tangledlove27, @paintballkid711, @lose-eels Modern!Pero: @littleferal, @lilkermit14, @the-feckless-wonder, @whiskeyslasso, @yespolkadotkitty, @cryptkeepersoul, @lackofhonor

Tag lists are open! Requests are open!

#Pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #modern!pero tovar #modern!pero tovar x reader #the great wall #pedro pascal #my fic #they were roommates

263 notes · View notes

youngerdrgrey · 3 years

Text

I know you (even if you don't want me to) // a Batwoman fic, chapter 4

about: After finding out Batwoman’s identity, Sophie tries to trap Ryan with her newfound knowledge. If she’s going to be on the outside, she might as well have some fun – and maybe fall in love along the way. #Wildmoore

CHAPTER FOUR SUMMARY: Ryan’s on a mission to stop Sophie’s crush on Batwoman, but she is very unprepared for what a rejected Sophie is about to do. + read on ao3

previously: read chapter one, chapter two + chapter three

Unknown to SM (21:37) Hostage situation at the Krell Warehouse. Could use an assist. No Crows.

SM to Unknown (21:42) ETA 20m

Sophie crouches low at the rendezvous point. A few rusted shipping containers form a makeshift wall on the edge of the warehouse property. Ryan’s fully suited up with her favorite batons ready for the action. She turns them in her hands to try and get rid of her nervous energy.

Sophie nods her way. “Surprised you called for help.”

“Yeah, well….” Technically, Ryan hasn’t called for help. She needs to put space between Sophie and Batwoman, and doing this over text would be even more uncomfortable than doing it in person.

“What do we got?”

“Six people inside — mostly teens who thought cruising an old Wonderland haunt would be a fun way to spend their Friday night.” Ryan points to the second level of the building where a row of boarded up windows give them their best entry point. “One got out a distress call, but False Face is all over the lower level and all the reasonable exits.”

Sophie mulls that over. “Do they know they’ve got company?”

“They found one kid who split off solo. The others are hiding, waiting for us to get them out.” Ryan stands back up.

“How’d you hear about this before us?” Sophie asks.

In a word, Parker. The inherited back-up / hacker teen is a senior now, and she’d reached out to Mary for an assist. Mary caught Ryan up to speed, but there’s not really a quick way to clue Sophie in.

“A little doggy told me.”

Sophie side-eyes Ryan. “I didn’t know riddles were your thing.”

Ryan gets her baton ready. “Saving people’s my thing. Now, I’m going to break through the boards. Draw their attention to me. After that, you find the kids and get them out of here.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” Sophie salutes her.

Ryan hesitates. She could bring Sophie up with her. Get them both into the building the same way. “You want to take the shortcut with me?”

A slow smile curls onto Sophie’s lips. “Yeah?”

Ryan pulls Sophie to her with her left hand. “Hold onto me. Tight.”

Sophie doesn’t need to be told twice. She wraps her arms around Ryan from the left side. Ryan secures her arm around Sophie’s waist, then clicks the button on the baton, launching the zip wire and effectively sending them into the air.

Sophie clings to her tighter. She gives a little gasp that Ryan’s sure will live in her mind rent free. Ryan shifts her weight to push boots first into the wood boards. She kicks through, and the splintering will definitely be enough to get the False Face members’ attention.

She lands firm, and Sophie takes a moment to readjust. Ryan knows she shouldn’t, but she glances up at Sophie. There’s a breathless awe in her that Ryan can’t look away from. Sophie genuinely laughs.

“That was awesome!”

Ryan smiles back despite herself. “Go find the kids. Thank me later.”

Ryan takes out three different False Face goons. The two remaining ones chase her through the building and out the front doors. It’s not the most effective strategy, but she catches sight of Sophie leading the kids out from the corner of her eye. Parker has the audacity to wave at Ryan, like they’re friends. The girl might’ve been Kate’s chosen teenager, but Ryan is not taking in any strays.

She focuses back on her two shadows. “Aren’t you guys sick of getting your asses kicked at this point?” She assumes her fighting stance while they split masked looks and probably choose who is charging at her first. “I knocked out three of your buddies back there. I broke into your boss's hideout. Gotham is mine.”

A car starts in the distance. The guy in the Seal Mask cheats a glance towards the shipping containers. Ryan takes the opportunity to launch a Batarang at his shoulder. It slices through his jacket like butter. The Monkey Mask runs at her.

She blocks three punches and a kick before getting a roundhouse one of her own straight to his side. Monkey Mask crumbles with the kick. Seal Mask storms right at her, but thankfully, Sophie shocks him with a taser from behind. As he writhes his way to the ground, Ryan chops Monkey Mask in the side of the head to knock him out too.

Sophie pockets her taser. She wipes her hands after. “Kids are gone. They say thank you.”

“Did you tell them this was a one time thing?” Ryan asks.

Sophie nods. “I promised I’d haul them in myself next time.”

Of course she did. Because that’s who Sophie is. How many times has she said those same words to Ryan? Her solution will always be to lock people up and maintain the status Crow. Ryan cannot be a part of that.

She bites the bullet and announces, “There won’t be a next time. Not for us.”

Sophie’s smile drops. “I’m sorry, what? If it’s the Crow thing again, it was a joke—”

“No,” it wasn’t a joke, but it’s now or never to put an end to this. “It’s the Kate thing.”

The mention of Kate works exactly the way Ryan thought it would. A wall builds around Sophie in an instant. Her voice drops to a warning.

“Watch yourself, Batwoman.”

She has to watch out for Gotham. Keep them safe by keeping Sophie out of the Batcave and back with her Crows where she belongs.

“You said it yourself: she was the love of your life. Isn't it a little weird that you’re asking me out for drinks?”

Sophie’s nostrils flare. She grinds out, “It’s a drink. Not a marriage proposal.”

“You’ve already done that part, right?”

Okay, Ryan may have gone too far with that one. But the point is to drive Sophie away. If Sophie thinks Batwoman is a bitch, then Ryan’s in the clear. No more crush, no more problems.

But Sophie spins Ryan around with a vice-like grip on her wrist. She glares down at Ryan, and Ryan’s thankful once again for how the cowl and the wig cast her eyes in shadow.

“And what have you done, besides try to push away the one person who’s repeatedly saved your life? I’m not your enemy, and I’m not going to stand here while you try to use my dead ex against me.”

Sophie’s whole body shakes. Her rage is clear and channeled straight at Ryan. She practically growls, “You want to work alone so badly? Be my guest.” Then storms off into the night.

After a beat, the crackle in the Comms gives way to Luke.

He sighs heavily into his microphone. “Not cool, Ryan.”

Ryan clears her throat. Tries to sound a bit less affected. “Hey, mission accomplished.”

Screw Ryan. Sophie would normally go for more eloquence, but she’s a little sidetracked. She squares up her shot in the minimalist Crows shooting range. The small scale facility has a row of five shooting stations opposite the targets. On a Friday night, the other Crows are either working or relaxing, so the space is all hers. And Mary’s, who presses a pair of earmuffs tighter onto her ears and squeaks as Sophie takes another shot.

Mary practically screams, “Are you sure that this is how you want to spend Girls’ Night?”

Girls’ Night meaning yet another last minute outing to distract Sophie from how shitty Ryan is acting. At least the last time, Sophie could have a bit of fun. This time, her blood’s boiling, and she grinds her teeth so hard that she might upset a filling.

“Any better ideas?”

Mary gives an incredulous look to Sophie. “There are so many clubs in Gotham. You can take shots instead of shooting them. And… didn’t you used to go shooting with Kate?”

Sophie sets her gun down. “It’s great stress relief.”

“Yeah, so’s dancing. And it’s a lot more fun.” Mary pushes her ear muffs down onto her neck. “I don’t need to know what’s got you so…” She waves a hand at Sophie’s generally tense demeanor. “But you can find plenty of ladies who would love to help you forget about it.”

And forget about Ryan slut-shaming her for even looking like she was moving on. “Look, I can live my life however I want. It’s not disrespecting anyone to do that.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Mary turns knowing eyes up at Sophie. “I also feel like there’s someone else that you want to be saying that to, and it’s not me. So, you work on your speech, and I will cement our spot on the guest list, okay?”

Mary squeezes Sophie’s arm and then excuses herself from the room. She stays right outside, where the pop of Sophie’s next shot is on the other side of the glass. Her phone’s ringing before she really thinks about it.

Ryan groans into the phone upon answering. Then she must hear the muffled shots in the background. “Are you getting shot at?”

“Thankfully, no. Sophie’s got me at the Crows shooting range because someone pissed her off tonight.” Mary rolls her head in a circle and wills some of the tension out of her body. “An hour ago, you two were fine, so want to clue me in how you royally screwed things up?”

Ryan scoffs, and her voice pitches higher in indignation. “She’ll be fine. This is Crowphie we’re talking about.”

Mary watches as Sophie fires off three rounds before her arms drop. Sophie lays the gun down and plants her hands on the wood of the stall in front of her. Her shoulders shake with what may actually be a sob.

“She’s not invincible, Ryan. And you can’t hurt her just to push her away. It’s not fair.”

“When has any of this been fair, Mary?” There’s a thud on the other end, like Ryan’s slamming their fridge. Is she home right now? “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Well, do better. I’m taking her out to hopefully dance through some of this intensity. Maybe tomorrow you can try to fix this. Okay?”

A bottle cap pops on Ryan’s side. She’s definitely got a beer from the fridge. This won’t end well for any of them, will it? Ryan takes a swig that’s loud enough for Mary to hear through the phone.

“Which club?”

Mary sighs.

Leave it to Mary to pick the one club playing decent music tonight. Ryan half expected Mary to have picked Curse, but Sophie’s not really an EDM kind of girl. Before tonight, Ryan would’ve assumed Sophie’s never been to a club at all. She’s the tight lipped, straight backed type. The type to think of a few drinks at a bar as a wild night.

Tonight, though, Sophie’s hotter than ever. In a tight dress that stops above the knee and heels that make her tower over half the patrons, Sophie’s got the attention of at least half the club. Ryan watches from beside Mary at their table. Sophie had taken one look at Ryan, downed her drink, and gone onto the dance floor.

“She’s not even a good dancer,” Ryan mumbles. Sophie’s a bit too stiff to really be good out there. She does have a natural rhythm though. Everyone around her bends to match it. One particular person with a mullet slips up behind Sophie. Their hand finds Sophie’s hip, and Sophie only misses a beat before dancing again.

Mary twirls the ice around in her drink. “She’s fine.”

She’s vengeful. Sophie gets told one time that she’s moving on too fast, and now she’s grinding with a stranger at a club. If anything, she’s proving Ryan’s point.

Mullet takes Sophie’s hand in their free one and spins Sophie around to face them. The move gets a laugh out of Sophie. The laugh gets a kiss from Mullet. Ryan groans.

She leans across the table to Mary. “I thought this was Girls’ Night.”

Mary shrugs. “Mullet's a girl. Maybe. I'm trying not to assume anyone's gender based on expression. Look, you rejected her, so she’s going to rebound.”

Ryan pulls a disgusted face. It’s not about Mullet in particular. Just, if Sophie’s going to rebound off of Batwoman, couldn’t she do it with somebody interesting? Somebody who will do more than kiss along her neck in a sweaty club surrounded by strangers. Now both of Mullet’s hands are on Sophie’s hips, and Sophie’s head is tilted back like she’s actually enjoying this. Like Mullet has found just the right spot and —

Ryan turns to put her back to the dance floor. “I’m not watching this.”

“You don’t have to. You also… didn’t have to come?” Mary’s voice lilts up at the end. Her face is that mix of carefully constructed curiosity that usually means Mary’s leading Ryan into a trap. “I get that you wanted to see how bad she’s taking it, but I could have just texted you. Imani would’ve loved an impromptu date night.”

Things with Imani aren’t as great as they were before. Imani’s still amazing, but she gets quieter and stares at Ryan like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The last time Ryan bailed for Bat business, Imani looked absolutely betrayed.

Ryan could keep it to herself, but she blurts out, “Imani doesn’t trust me. I have to bail on half of our dates because of work and after meeting Sophie—”

“Why would she be jealous of Sophie?”

Ryan scratches at the back of her neck. “We may have gotten caught up in an argument in front of Imani.”

Mary hums. “And the two of you forgot anyone else even existed.” She says it like this is something that they do.

“I didn’t forget.” Sophie infuriates Ryan. She’s so sure that she’s right about every little thing, and if Ryan doesn’t correct her, then who will?

“But you didn’t care. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t the woman that you’re sleeping with have your full attention? Not your ‘coworker.’”

Ryan gives her a tight smile. “You’re forgiven.”

Mary turns her eyes back to the crowd. Ryan glances back, and of course, Sophie’s still with Mullet. But as Mullet kisses Sophie’s neck again, Sophie stares across the dance floor straight at Ryan.

Mary claps her hands together. “Alright. You two might want to talk about whatever this is. Preferably before I become an unwilling third and Imani ends up heartbroken.”

Ryan’s halfway out of her chair before she remembers to deny it. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Mary’s sarcastic mhm follows Ryan as she cuts her way through the crowd towards Sophie.

The heat of the bodies engulfs her. Somebody familiar tugs at Ryan, but she shirks out of the touch without so much as a look. Her eyes catch Sophie’s again, and she holds the stare as she slips around the last few people between them.

Mullet’s behind Sophie again. They possessively wrap an arm around Sophie’s stomach. “We’re good,” Mullet says.

Ryan ignores them to talk to Sophie. “Mary’s worried about you.”

Sophie’s dismissive. “Then Mary can come talk to me herself.” She turns her nose up at Ryan, and honestly, it’s enough to make Ryan see red.

Ryan’s here because Mary said Sophie was hurting. Ryan could be anywhere else. She could be at home, drinking a beer, in her bed. She could be patrolling the city. She could be with Imani, but she’s here because Mary had the misguided idea that Sophie was actually sad about being rejected. Mary was wrong.

Ryan huffs. “Whatever.” She starts walking back through the crowd.

Sophie calls out, “Hey, don’t walk away from me!”

Ryan glances over her shoulder to see Sophie push Mullet away. Sophie storms after Ryan, cutting through couples and dancers to get to her. Ryan speeds up. She makes a sharp turn in the crowd. No need to head back towards Mary and her leading comments.

The bathrooms are packed, as always, but there’s an exit door a bit further down the hall that’s normally unlocked. Ryan wiggles along the hall to get there and slips out into the night air.

A wave of humidity lingers outside the door. The stoop can barely fit Ryan. She pauses, which is just enough time for Sophie to push her way outside too. Ryan has to step down off the stoop. So she takes the remaining two steps to be firmly on the ground.

“Ryan, stop!” Sophie stomps down the steps. Ryan can’t move quick enough, so she ends up with Sophie standing over her. Sophie’s breathing hard. Her cheeks and neck are flushed from the club. Her lipstick’s in tact, but there’s a well kissed swell to them too.

Ryan can’t explain the fire in her veins. She shouldn’t have the power to get to Sophie like this. And maybe Ryan doesn’t. Maybe only Batwoman means something to Sophie.

“I have never seen you like that.” Ryan throws a hand towards the club. “Who was that in there?”

“You’re the one who said we didn’t know each other,” Sophie snaps.

“Maybe with good reason!”

Sophie quickly shakes her head. She stabs a finger into Ryan’s shoulder. “You do not get to judge me, Ryan. I am not interested in hearing some speech about how I should be acting. I decide what I want to do. I spent twenty-nine years denying myself that. And I am tired of letting other people tell me what team to be on.”

“You picked a clear one in there,” Ryan retorts. She should have worn her heels. Sophie’s a fucking Amazon woman right now, and it makes Ryan flare up. Makes her puff her chest out more than she needs to.

Sophie says, “I didn’t have a choice!” She catches herself. Her eyes cut to the wall before coming back to Ryan. “Did you know that I worked with the last Batwoman?”

Of course Ryan knows that. Everybody knows Sophie and Kate worked together. It’s why Sophie got suspended last year. Even low level non-criminals like Ryan heard about that. The Crows number two getting the deuces.

Sophie knows too. She keeps going, “For months, we worked together, and she never told me who she was. She never even gave me the chance to keep her secret. And you could say that she was protecting me, but really — ” Sophie’s anger fractures. Her lip trembles, and she sniffles before setting her jaw again. ”She was protecting herself.”

Luke always talks about Kate like she was perfect. Kate stood up for the people of Gotham. Kate had a code. Kate loved Sophie and established a legacy that Ryan’s supposed to carry on. Is hurting Sophie a part of that?

Sophie pushes her hair back out of her face. “I’m sick of playing games, Ryan.”

Ryan’s blood runs cold. “Meaning…?” Does Sophie know?

“Meaning I am going where I’m wanted.”

Ryan sighs in relief. A stressed laugh slips from her lips. It’s not about her. It’s still about the rejection.

Ryan lightens her tone. “You didn’t have to come to the club for that. There’s a line out the door at The Hold Up.” Sophie shakes her head, and the tension’s still tight between her eyebrows. Ryan needs this out. She takes Sophie’s hand in hers to swing it playfully between them. “I’m serious! Much hotter than Mullet. You should see the number of women checking you out every time you’re there. They are waiting for you to give them a chance.”

Sophie’s shoulders drop, like the fight’s slipping out of her. “You’re being nice.”

Ryan runs her thumb along Sophie’s knuckles to undercut her words.

“When have I ever been nice to you, Sophie?”

Sophie gazes down at Ryan in such a tender way that Ryan forgets how to breathe for a second. Forgets that they shouldn’t be toe to toe in an alleyway underneath the moonlight.

Sophie’s natural rasp pokes through. “You tell me.”

The quick hits: saving Sophie from Black Mask, cracking jokes with her and Jordan, the free margaritas. Sophie’s the nicer of the two of them. She stayed with Ryan on the island. She didn’t even look under the mask when she could’ve. She got Ryan back to Mary’s clinic with no questions asked.

She always plays along when Ryan wants a fight. She comes running for every text, every call, and she flips the Bat-signal to see Ryan. Not for some ghost of who used to be.

Sometimes Sophie smiles at Ryan like they’re the only two people in the world. Like now. Ryan gets lost in the warmth of it. The hopeful glow in Sophie’s eyes. Maybe Ryan should’ve been in heels. Sophie wouldn’t have to lean so far down to kiss her. Would it be so bad if Sophie did have a crush? If Ryan maybe —

“OW! What the —” The back door snags on the sleeve of Mary’s dress. She stumbles on the stoop, and her eyes jump up in time to spot them. Ryan and Sophie freeze, hands still together, faces angled towards each other but no closer to bridging the distance between them.

Ryan’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. Like she’s been caught in front of the whole of Gotham with her mask off.

Mary stares down at their hands. Ryan finally remembers to drop it. Sophie just licks her lips and steps back to turn to Mary.

The medical student points back into the club. “I… I could go back inside.”

Sophie walks back up the steps. “I’m calling it a night. Thanks, Mary. This was….” She glances over her shoulder at Ryan, who can’t bring herself to move yet. “Yeah.” Sophie slips into the club.

Mary lightly closes the door behind Sophie. She takes a deep breath in. “WHAT WAS THAT!?” She shrieks. Her eyebrows have practically left her face when she turns to Ryan. “You were supposed to be apologizing, not making out in the alley!”

Ryan snaps back to the moment. She readjusts her top, which she doesn’t have to do since it’s not like Sophie touched her. It’s not like they actually did anything. They just… stared? Looked? Saw each other, maybe.

“We weren’t making out.”

“Oh really?” Mary doesn’t believe her.

“We didn’t even kiss,” Ryan snaps.

Mary snorts. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” Ryan crosses her arms defensively. Mary’s eyes quadruple in size. “Oh my God, are you disappointed!?”

Ryan stomps up the steps to the door. Mary figuratively dissects Ryan with her eyes. Maybe Ryan could sprint through the club. If she starts running, the other Black people at least should run. It’s code. A little stampede, and she can ditch her roommate and this awful line of questioning.

Mary keeps up with Ryan as she speeds up though. Mary fast-walks beside her down the narrow hallway.

She says, “You can’t ignore me. You know that, right? We’re going home together. We need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?”

Mary jogs to get around Ryan and stand in front of her. Ryan nearly crashes into her. Mary grabs both of Ryan’s shoulders so Ryan has no choice but to look at her. It’s almost not fair that Mary and Ryan are nearly the same height. It gives Mary an advantage when it comes to reading Ryan directly. Plus, Ryan can’t escape the soft concern in Mary’s eyes.

She asks it softly but like she already knows the answer. “Do you like Sophie?”

Ryan scoffs and laughs and shakes her head and does everything she can to look like that’s not true. Because it can’t be true. It shouldn’t be true. “No, I do not like Sophie.” So why does that sound like a lie?

Sophie shouldn’t be up here. She should be back home, like she said, not waiting under the Bat-signal. But she can’t exactly go to Ryan’s loft and ask Ryan what the fuck that was back at the club. At first, it just seemed like judgement. Ryan’s never been subtle about her discontent. She tells Sophie everything she dislikes from the way Sophie’s done her hair to the fact that Sophie’s committed her life to a police state that may never be capable of getting better.

Judgement doesn’t pinch Ryan’s lips though. Judgement is a self-assured raise of the brow. Judgement is that all-knowing smirk and a dimmer switch on Ryan’s normally bright eyes.

At the club, that was something else. That was heat. That was anger. That was jealousy. Ryan might’ve spun it into jokes about The Hold Up, but it started from there. They were so close in that alley. So close as themselves, and that should be the goal of all this, right? Sophie started messing with Ryan to get Ryan to be honest with her. Sophie could take the first step. Drop the charade and tell Ryan that she knows. Ask her to let Sophie in.

Ryan lands on the roof with a whoosh and a soft thud. The wind runs through the wig. What would it feel like through Ryan’s hair? What would Sophie’s fingers feel like?

Ryan shifts her weight from one side to the other. She gives a little “Hi” that sounds nervous even under the voice regulator.

If Sophie speaks, then those nerves will go away. This charade makes it easier. It gives them an excuse and an out. Because if Sophie and Ryan kiss, then Sophie has to change her life. Sophie has to quit her job, and Ryan has to bend her beliefs, and neither of them can ever go back to who they were before. But if it’s Batwoman….

Sophie summons all her strength. “You owe me an apology.”

Ryan glances down at the roof. “Kate was a low blow.”

“And Tyler,” Sophie reminds her. It’s probably a good thing Ryan doesn’t know enough about Julia to bring her up too.

“I’m sorry. I….” She licks her lips and steps closer to Sophie. “I panicked. You’re out here telling people that you have my phone number. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Sophie fakes a thought as she steps towards Ryan. “You could try talking about it, like an actual adult. You are an adult, right?”

Ryan takes another step. They’re only an arms length apart. “Yeah, I’m an adult.”

Sophie’s turn. “Good. And you want me?”

“I….”

Sophie stops. They’re almost toe to toe again. “Yes or no. Do you want me?”

A few agonizing seconds creep in. Ryan doesn’t move, or speak. Dread sinks in. She read this wrong. Ryan really was being nice in the alley, and now Sophie’s pushed too far. She’s gone back on her word, and it’s only going to give Ryan more ammunition against her. She’s going to kill Mary for bringing her out tonight.

“Yes,” Ryan whispers. Sophie jumps forward at the word. “I think…. Yes.”

Sophie drapes her arms around Ryan’s neck. The wig tickles against her bare skin. Ryan’s breath catches in her throat. Tentatively, her hands come up to Sophie’s waist. The gloves bunch her dress. Sophie’s eyes drop from Ryan’s down to Ryan’s lips, then back again. Sophie leans in, so close that their lips almost brush.

“Do you trust me?”

Ryan tenses around her. She says, “I want to. I just… can’t.”

Sophie nods and swallows around the immediate lump in her throat. “Then I can’t do this.”

Sophie detangles herself from Ryan and heads for the doors. She only gets a few steps away before Ryan grabs her hand. Ryan runs her thumb over Sophie’s knuckles the same way she did in the alley.

“We can work on it. It’s not just me, you know,” Ryan says. “I don’t have to work alone.”

Right, there’s Luke and Mary, who lie to Sophie every single time she sees them. There was Julia. Even Alice gets to be in on the action sometimes.

Sophie asks her, “So what’s wrong with me?” Why keep pushing her away? She’s done everything she can think of to prove she’s trustworthy. The last few weeks of jokes and games aren’t the problem. Ryan doesn’t care about kids thinking Sophie’s friends with Batwoman. She doesn’t care about drinks. There's something else at play here. Something Ryan won't admit.

“Soph….” Ryan starts, but no explanation follows. Sophie can’t set herself up like this. Not again.

Sophie pulls her hand back. “Figure that out, and get back to me. Until you do, I’m done.”

a/n: So many fun things in this chapter! Let me know what's working for you and how you felt about our near kisses (one of which was almost a full one -- can you guess which one?)

END OF CHAPTER UPDATED, MONDAY JUNE 21ST AT 10AM.

it's going to be a busy week for me. give me some fun comments and reblogs to keep my energy up?

#batwoman #batwoman fic #wildmoore #ryan x sophie #sophie moore #ryan wilder #mine #batwoman: s2 #fic: i know you even if you don't want me to #mary hamilton

27 notes · View notes