#i have been very boring this month and plead despair | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kpostedsum · 3 years ago

Text

only you

draco malfoy x reader, harry potter x reader

summary: when harry asks you to get closer to a specific someone, what happens if you get too close?

based off this tiktok

song: dark red - steve lacy

a/n: there is infidelity in this fic whomppp and not edited

masterlist | taglist

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

I don't know it but I feel it comin'

Might be so sad, might leave my nose running

the sky was gloomy on your way to hogwarts, everyone was on edge with the return of voldemort. you stayed with harry, ron and hermione all throughout the summer at the burrow preparing for your sixth year.

“he has to be a deatheater, his father is in azkaban so it makes sense if voldemort would have made him a deatheater in his fathers place” your boyfriend harry tried to explain to ron and hermione. you have to admit, he could have a point— however, no matter how bad draco is you didn’t want to think that of a sixteen year old boy. “well how do you suppose we find out?” asked ron as he awaited an answer from everyone.

“i have a plan but i don’t suppose harry would be too fond of it” hermione said with a waver in her voice. “since y/n comes from a respectable pureblood family, perhaps she can get closer to draco and confirm our suspicions for us—”

“absolutely not. i don’t want y/n any where near malfoy, who knows how dangerous he is” harry said defensively. you have to admit, hermiones plan is smart and is probably the most realistic one there is.

“it’s okay harry” you soothed him. “i’ll be fine, hermiones plan makes the most sense” you said.

“so what’s the plan?”

I just hope she don't wanna leave me

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby

“love, i still don’t think this is a good idea, what if you get hurt?” harry said as you two were cuddled on his bed together in the boys dorm, basking in each others warmth and security.

“he won’t hurt me harry, he’s a boy just like you— i’m sure if he is a deatheater he isn’t handling it as well as you think. i’ll be okay” you said. a soft silence stilled between the two of you as you enjoyed being wrapped up in your boyfriends arms, occasionally rubbing your nose against his just to hear his giggle that you love so much.

“i’ve just lost a lot of people, i don’t want you to be one of them. if something were to happen to you i’d light the world on fire and never let a flame touch you, just to keep you safe.” he said with a certain look of truth, loyalty and despair swimming in his eyes as he looked at you.

“i’m not going anywhere harry, i promise. i love you, only you” was the last thing you said before the both of you fell asleep, body parts tangled with eachother.

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you

it’s been 3 days since that night with harry, and since then you’ve been trying to get closer to draco, but every time you tried he seemed to disappear. tonight you decided you’d wander outside of the slytherin common room in hopes of him showing up.

“what are you doing here, don’t you belong with the other gryffindors and saint potter?”

there he was. the voice you’ve been waiting to hear all week.

“i’ve grown quite bored of them right now, i figured i need a little excitement in my life. which is exactly why i am here, wandering outside the slytherin common room hoping there’s someone here to cure my boredom.” you said trying to sound as convincing as possible.

“get to the point y/n” he said walking closer to you. “what do you really want? is potter not fulfilling your needs anymore?” he smirked as he backed you against the wall, caging your frame beneath his.

“harry and i are fine, thank you very much” you rolled your eyes. “he’s just too busy right now”

“so you think i’m the cure to your boredom” draco said raising his brows, curious as to where this conversation is leading too.

“i know you’re the cure to my boredom.”

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

Why I feel this way I don't know maybe

I think of her so much it drives me crazy

I just don't want her to leave me

you and draco have been hanging out every night since that day. some days he’d be there and you’d both talk until the sun rise, and others he wouldn’t show.

you knew you had to ask him about it soon for harry’s sake but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so, atleast not tonight.

“what do you mean you haven’t found out yet? you’ve been spending almost every night with him— which you could be spending with me by the way, and you still found out nothing about him. what do you even do then?” harry exclaimed, clearly frustrated over the lack of information and the fact that his girlfriend has been hanging out with the enemy.

“i can’t just straight up ask him harry!” you say a bit louder than intended. “he has to trust me first, and how can i build that trust with him if we don’t hang out. all we do is talk, i promise.” you said, your voice softening as you weren’t in the mood to argue with your boyfriend right now.

“can we just go to sleep please, i miss you” you pleaded.

“yeah, yeah we can” he said pulling you towards him in his bed, allowing your head to rest in the crook of his neck inhaling his scent. a scent that used to be so familiar but you can feel being replaced.

“it’s only me right?” he asked staring towards his ceiling.

“yes harry, it’s only you. i love you.” you said reassuring him, but also reassuring yourself.

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong with you and only you, baby

“draco, can i ask you something” you asked looking towards him as he sat on the other side of you looking at the stars on from the astronomy tower.

“what is it?” he responded.

“how come sometimes you don’t show up, some days i’ll sit here waiting for you to show up and you never do. i miss you” you said softly, hoping you can get some information out of him.

“it’s cute that you miss me, i’d be lying if i said sometimes i didn’t miss your presence as well.” he said turning towards you and sending you a smirk. crawling over to him and resting your head on his shoulder, you relaxed against him.

“you know i don’t think you’re as bad as harry makes you out to be” you admitted. it’s true though, harry makes him out to be someone vain, however you find his presence comforting. you look forward to the nights you spend with him, more than you’d like to admit. “you’re quite nice when you want to be and are really good company” you explained.

“oh yeah?” he turned to you.

“yeah” you nodded. “i think harry is blinded by hate, he doesn’t know i’ve been hanging out with you and i’m sure if he were to find out he’d think you’re hurting me.” you partly lied.

“but i don’t think you could hurt me even if you tried” you said peering up at him with a soft smile and big genuine eyes. he adored the sight but he’d never admit it.

“i dont think your boyfriend would appreciate you talking about him like this to his enemy, now would he love?” draco said with a smirk. he knew over the past few weeks you’ve been hanging out your love for harry has been fading, even if you haven’t seen it yourself.

“draco” you said breaking the soft silence. “i have something to confess”

“well what is it?” he said, turning towards you giving you his full attention.

“do you think it’s wrong for someone to feel something for someone they’re not supposed to feel for” you asked, staring into his stormy grey eyes.

“i feel like i should feel guilty, but i don’t. if anything i feel safe.” you continued.

“what do you mean by that?” draco asked, taking his hand and slowly caressing your cheek encouraging you to continue.

when he touched you it felt as if the stars were dancing across your skin. you haven’t felt that way with harry in a while. it felt as if you could be anything in the world, and for some reason, you wanted to be his.

“is it wrong that when i’m with you, i get the same feeling i used to feel with him” you asked. “i mean, for some reason i can’t seem to stay away from you, and i don’t think i want too. i feel safe with you”. you said softly, hoping he understood what you meant.

“i used to think i was crazy meeting up with you every night, but i think it’s the best decision i’ve ever made.” he expressed. “you’ve become something i look forward too everyday, someone i seek out in crowds without even realizing it. i don’t think i want to stay away from you either” he finished.

the air stilled between you two, the only sounds heard were the soft winds of the night.

“draco… can i kiss you?” you asked.

“if you do, i don’t think i’d be able to stop” he confessed.

“and what if i don’t want you to stop” you said leaning closer and pressing your lips against his.

his lips were soft. slightly cold but it was addictive. kissing him felt so good, you might have even forgot how to breathe, but breathing wasn’t important in that moment.

“i’ve waited— i’ve waited so long for this, but i didn’t want to ruin what you and saint potter had” he said as he pulled you to straddle his lap and you pressed harsh kisses against his neck, craving to feel him.

“you didn’t ruin a thing” you said in between kisses. “i ruined it the day i decided to seek you out outside your common room” you continued breaking the kiss.

“i’m glad you did” he said resting his forehead against yours.

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you

whatever you had going on with draco continues for months, hidden kisses between classes and tangled limbs in his bed at night.

the only problem was harry.

“as much as i’d love to brag about stealing potters girlfriend to everyone, i don’t think i can do that” draco said as you both laid in bed together in each others embrace.

“i know, but i can’t leave him yet. it’s just not the right time” you said turning to face him.

“i know” he said turning towards you. “if anything, i enjoy sneaking around with you” he says as he presses light kisses to your neck.

“what are you thinking about” he asks as he notices you’re not paying attention to him.

“harry’s probably wondering where i am, i should probably go to him” you said sadly.

“just be back tomorrow, alright?”

“i’ll always come back to you draco, i promise” you said pressing a kiss to his lips and heading to the gryffindor common room.

What if she's fine

It's my mind that's wrong

And I just let bad thoughts

Linger for far too long

“you’ve been out quite a bit haven’t you” ron said as you entered the common room. his eyes, hermione’s and harry’s eyes all on you.

“i’ve just been trying to get the information you wanted from him” you lied as you took a seat next to hermione.

“we’ll have you gotten anything?” she asked

“no, i haven’t. i don’t think hes a deatheater, i mean it’s been months since i’ve been hanging with him— he would have told me by now” you explained.

“what do you mean he doesn’t trust you, all you do is be with him and stare at each other in class. i wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bloody crush on you by now” harry said quite aggressively.

“we only talk, i’ve told you that already” you said sternly even though it was a lie.

“how about we all go to sleep and discuss this in the morning, it’s quite late” ron said trying to diffuse the tension.

“i agree, it’s too late and none of us are thinking straight” hermione added on to ron’s statement and going straight to the girls dorm, ron going to the boys dorm.

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong, with you, only you, baby

you and harry were left in the common room alone, the sound of fire crackling becoming more evident and loud as you tried to avoid his gaze.

“i’m sorry for lashing out like that” he said breaking the silence. “i know you and malfoy have nothing going on, i guess i’ve just missed you.”

“i missed you too harry” you said looking over to him.

“c’mere” he said tugging you towards him so you sit on his lap. “i love you, y’know. i don’t think i’d be able to do any of this without you” he continued looking into your eyes with a look of desperation of love.

a look you couldn’t return.

“i love you too harry, only you.” the lies came out your mouth before you could even stop them.

“only you, i promise.”

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you

taglist: @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @ilygw @nic0lodean @s1ater @henqtic @justreadingficsdontmindme @i-love-scott-mccall @harmqnia @gwlvr @alishahpotter

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco malfoy angst #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter angst #harry potter fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader x draco malfoy #harry potter x ravenclaw!reader #harry potter x ginny weasley #harry potter fic #harry potter x you

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult.

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for!

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step.

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line.

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity.

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor.

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder.

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing.

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes.

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think.

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate.

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place.

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission.

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm?

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have?

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes.

Or so you believe.

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds.

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods.

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path.

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.”

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.

You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers.

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.”

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd.

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants.

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place.

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable.

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

“So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

“Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face.

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you.

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right?

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home.

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of.

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you.

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru.

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries.

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”.

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips.

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame.

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing.

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch.

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four.

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting.

And history repeats itself. Over and over again.

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you.

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock?

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth.

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint.

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of.

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy.

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases.

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.”

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with.

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it.

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him.

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you?

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use.

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose.

Anything, huh?

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him.

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly.

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary.

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases.

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast.

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.”

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face.

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim.

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy.

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.”

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll.

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: drugging #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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the-cult-of-russo · 4 years ago

Text

No Going Back

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Request : good morning. i wanna request number 8. “Maybe you should just leave now.” angst/fighting dialogue. to be correct it is for billy russo right?

A/N: yes it's my Billy boy :') he a lil soft in this though but also an asshole lmaooo not gonna lie, this one had me swept up in the emotion. It hit quite close to home and now I'm sad :')

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness and heartbreak. Billy fucked up big time lol

Your hands were shaking as you slammed the door to your apartment. Tears stained your cheeks and you kicked your heels off before storming to your bedroom, grabbing a duffel bag and starting to pack his things that he'd left around. Heartbroken didn't even cover it.

You knew this would happen, it's why you fought against it for so long. But you were stupid and ended falling for his bullshit and now you were a mess.

You and Billy had been together officially for 7 months. You'd met a year ago at a bar and hit it off, but when he tried to take you home you'd denied him. That apparently piqued his interest even more. He'd always be at the bar every Friday when you went and it was always easy to just be yourself around him. You didn't take him up on his offer and he would offer every time. He never made it a secret that he wanted you.

But as the months drew on, you both got to know each other more and it became a sort of friendship. You had to admit you felt something when you looked forward to seeing him. He'd asked you once why you were so against it and you'd been pretty blunt with him. You knew of his reputation and you weren't into it. You didn't do one night stands or casual sex. You wanted a relationship, someone to settle down with. You wanted something real. You told him you didn't think he was capable of that and he'd break your heart.

Five months into knowing each other and he'd switched from just wanting to fuck you to wanting to actually date you and you'd still put up a fight. But as your feelings for him grew, he wore you down. The moment you agreed to that date, which he'd been over the moon about, everything changed.

It had been so easy to be with him. He treated you like a queen, was more affectionate than you'd have thought, and you enjoyed each other's company. He was busy with Anvil a lot so you didn't see him every day but he'd call if he couldn't see you or send you sweet texts. He swore to you up and down that he'd never hurt you, never do what you'd thought he would do when you turned him down all those times.

You'd see the looks women gave him when you went out together or were at an event as his date and sometimes you'd feel insecure. But he only had eyes for you it seemed and it reassured you. It lulled you into a false sense of security that he'd actually changed. That he actually cared about you.

But you were wrong. So very fucking wrong and now you were paying for it. You'd been having dinner with a friend you hadn't seen in a while when it happened. Your eyes finding Billy across the restaurant. He was sat with a pretty blonde, very up close and intimate as they whispered god knows what to each other. You'd felt your heart crack but tried to deny it. It was just flirting, nothing more. But then… he'd leaned in and kissed her.

You'd shot out of your seat so fast the chair fell over and ran out of the place like someone had lit a fire up your ass. And you knew he'd seen you because you heard him shouting your name as you jumped into a cab and left.

You hated yourself for being surprised at what he'd done. You'd told him this was exactly how it would go but he'd swore to you. And you allowed yourself to buy into his bullshit because you loved him.

Most of his things packed, you padded over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine, pouring a large glass. You swigged it in one and felt the warmth bloom in your chest. It did little to ease the hopeless sorrow that consumed you though.

There was a rough knock at your door and you heard Billy call your name loudly. You tensed, heart breaking all over again as the tears seemed to be never ending. You didn't want to talk to him, to even look at him. But this was it. You couldn't stay with him, not now. You'd never be able to trust him again. You knew you had to tell him it was done so you could lick your wounds and heal from the pain.

"Y/N, please… open the door," Billy begged from the other side. You walked over, unlocking it but not opening it as you stormed back off to your bedroom. You knew he'd let himself in. You heard his heavy footsteps entering as you shoved another of his shirts in the bag, one you liked to sleep with.

"Can we talk?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," you bit out, eyes snapping to him. His face fell when he saw you crying and he took a tentative step into the room.

"Please, Y/N, let me explain," he frowned. You laughed but it held no joy. Only a deep rooted pain that was latched onto your soul.

"Explain? Really? What, you gonna say you tripped and your mouth landed on hers?! I saw it with my own eyes, Billy! You don't need to explain anything!" You roared, pure pain lacing your words.

He clenched his jaw as he shook his head, eyes glassy as he stared at you.

"I'm-I'm sorry," he started softly, reaching out to grab your arm but you smacked it away harshly. He looked like a kicked puppy and you hated it. He didn't get to be upset about this.

"How long have you been fucking her then?" You asked snidely as you grabbed the duffel bag, holding it in a death grip.

"I haven't fucked her," he muttered quietly. You snorted deprecatingly and he bit down on his lower lip.

"Yet?" You asked knowingly. His guilty glance to the floor told you everything you needed to know.

"How long, Billy? How long have you been cheating on me?" You asked, your voice wavered but your gaze had nothing but fire in it and he shifted where he stood. He couldn't look at you.

"A month. It was always one night, I never went back to someone," he frowned. Pain clawed its way through your chest and you threw the bag at him hard. He caught it but stumbled a little and he looked at you forlornly.

"Well, I guess that makes it better then, right?" You asked coldly and he flinched.

You stormed past him back to the kitchen area and he followed quickly.

"Please listen to me, Y/N. I need to make this right," he pleaded desperately. You whirled around to face him, face flushed and tear stained and you felt like you wanted to scream.

"Why? Why did you just decide after 6 months together to do this to me? You promised me, Billy! I knew this would happen but you fought for this! For us! Why?! Just so you could break my heart?!" You bellowed, a mix of anger and utter despair in your tone.

His lower lip quivered and he bit down on it, staring at the floor.

"I never wanted to hurt you. I swear, I didn't. I just…" his voice cracked as his teary eyes landed on you.

"Maybe you should just leave now," you uttered. Your whole body was trembling and you felt sick. You couldn't stand to look at him. He stepped closer to you, dropping the bag on the floor but you took a step back. It would be far too easy to fall for his bullshit again and if he touched you, you didn't think you'd be able to get him to leave.

It felt like pure pain ripped through your chest, the weight of the world crashing down around you. You slumped onto a dining chair as a raw sob clawed its way out. Billy was kneeling in front of you in seconds, his own cheeks now damp as he cupped your cheeks. You moved your head from his grip and shook your head.

"I loved you, you know that?" You whispered brokenly though your tears. You'd never outright said it, mostly in fear of his reaction. But it had all gone to shit anyway. His lip trembled again, scrunching his nose up a little as he shook his head. He looked utterly devastated and it made you angry so you continued.

"I loved you with everything I had. I trusted you with my life. I ripped out my own beating heart and willingly gave it to you because you swore to me you wouldn't do this. You just took it and stomped all over it. How could you do this to me?" Your last words were strained as the tears flowed freely.

"Please let me fix this," he begged helplessly. He was crying openly now, not trying to hide it as he gazed at you from the floor.

"You can't fix it. I'll never be able to trust you again. It's not just the sex, Billy! You've been lying to me for a month. All those business meetings or times you were away? And you just… you'd come back to me with a smile and tell me sweet words. Looked me in the fucking eye and not feel guilty," you choked out. He shook his head vigorously, hands clasping yours so tight you couldn't pull them away.

"You've got no idea how guilty I felt. It's been eatin' me up from the inside out," he lamented.

"Why would you…? What was it? You just got bored of me? Decided you didn't want me anymore? You should have just ended this because it would hurt less than this," you wept pitifully. He shook his head, clutching your hands tighter.

"Don't… Don't say that, I do want you. I know I don't deserve you, I know I'm an asshole. And… and maybe I shoulda left it alone when you told me this would happen, but I was selfish and I-I couldn't. You were never like the others. I knew that from the moment we met. But then… then things were gettin' serious and I just… I freaked out and went back to my default 'cause I didn't know how to…'' he cried, screwing his face up as he hung his head.

You sobbed as you stood, his hands falling away and you moved to lean against the table as he stood.

"It would be bad enough if I'd just got with you in the first place and you did this. But I wanted to avoid this. I tried so hard but you kept on at it. And it hurts so much more because you promised me you wouldn't do this and I believed you. I thought you'd changed, that you…" you ran a hand through your hair, tugging on it as the tears wouldn't stop.

He stepped to you, grasping your face in both hands and you couldn't bring yourself to fight it despite the pain it brought you. His endless eyes were all consuming, his cheeks wet from his own tears.

"Please… please, Y/N, don't do this. Let me make it right," he begged tearfully.

"Without trust, we have nothing. Everytime you're on your phone I'd wonder if you were talking to another woman. When you're out I'd be paranoid about who you were with. I can't live like that, Billy. I can't live my life in… in an anxious, jealous haze. That's not a relationship," you whispered.

He made a pained noise and it squeezed your heart so hard you thought it might implode.

"I was never good enough for you. I knew that. But I wanted… I wanted to try and be-be a good man… for you. And I fucked up so bad and I just…" his words trailed off into a hopeless sob and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wished there was a way to fix this but there wasn't. You wouldn't be in one of those relationships without trust. Checking your partner's phone and always checking in. It would break you.

"You need to leave, Billy," your words were a mere breath and his hands on your face tightened for a moment before they fell to his sides. He looked completely broken and you were sure you looked the same. He opened his mouth before promptly closing it, his jaw ticking as he moved away and pushed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

You wrapped your arms around yourself like it would protect you from the pain and glared at the floor. You could still feel his gaze burning into you. You glanced at him as he grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. You had to fight the urge to grab onto him as he walked to your door. You felt like you were dying.

He grabbed the handle but stopped, not looking at you as his body tensed.

"I want you to know… I love you too," his pained words felt like a punch to the gut and you covered your mouth with a hand but it did little to stop the noise that left your lips. He looked over his shoulder at you, still holding the door handle.

"I know that… right now you probably don't believe me, but I do. And I'm sorry. I-I never wanted you to get hurt. You deserve so much better," he muttered despondently. With that, he opened the door and slipped out of your apartment. Of your life.

You fell to the floor as heaving sobs left your chest. It would have been easier if he came here being an asshole. Cold and emotionless like you knew he could be at times. But seeing him, his emotions so raw and on display, it cut you deeper than any knife could. And you believed him. You knew him well enough to believe that he fell in love with you and freaked out. You knew it would happen which is why you'd turned him down at the start. You believed he never wanted to hurt you. And you wished you could forgive him. You saw how much it hurt him too but you couldn't. You couldn't get over the betrayal and you didn't think you ever could.

He'd sabotaged what you both had because of his inability to deal with what he felt and the bitter knowledge that if he'd just accepted it, how different your future would be with him, it left a sour taste in your mouth. Billy had opened up to you a lot in your time together about his past and you knew how much it had messed him up. You knew it left him struggling with emotions and relationships and you felt for him. For the lost boy who'd never felt love and didn't know how to cope with it. But nothing could erase the heartbreak. The hurt that he'd given you. Because even if you'd one day be able to forgive him, you'd never be able to forget.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

Text

Baking! (Yuta x you)

a/n : heyyo it’s friday, let’s have some “me” time and enjoy some imagine with Yuta! Idea came from @yutahoes comment on previous post HOT PATCHED

warning : none! suggestive, how you ended up with a bun in the oven! (your beloved Nami), and of course 2020 was a baking year and I am more than willing to share you the recipe i am referring to for this story! DM me :D also i got a bit too carried away :) but it’s gonna be fun :D

tagging : @2-3-t-i @yutahoes @ailoveyuta

with that said.. enjoy your scene!

Ever since the pandemic started and staying at home becomes a mandatory rule, you and your fiance, Yuta have been trying to overcome boredom with all possibilities. On the first month of staying home, you two are very excited about having “leisure” time while working at home. Both of you are delighted by the fact that you don’t have to wake up early, drive in the busy streets, and you just have to slip into your proper clothes when there is a board meeting. Considering your job is a magazine editor, you have meetings but luckily not every day.

Second month, you start to do yoga and exercises with Yuta every time he is bored, and he has nothing to do. Well, his comeback is still in preparation, so he only comes for regular practice and always got home when your office hour ends.

Fourth months, you pick up a new hobby and because your magazine company needs to make a new fresh content that suits the situation, the team comes up with a baking page. You are assigned to make the content, including taking pictures and trying the recipes your team made. You also have to do the editing but there’s help with that. You take the challenge, though you never bake before you see this as the perfect opportunity to start a new hobby. Things were great, the content is rising in demand since the world is baking suddenly! You got your raise and you enjoy doing this until your silly ass fell from challenging yourself to a wild yoga pose. You hurt your arms, they are a slightly fractured and you cannot make your baking content for the first three weeks of recovery, but you are so irritated to just stay in front of the laptop and watch your other friend make the pictures and cakes. So, when you can no longer hold yourself back, you plead the director board to give you back the baking section and they did love your job so you won the part back.

“Yuta can you come home earlier today?” you question the man who already wears his mask and has his training bag ready on his shoulder.

“Me?? I guess I’m done after lunch, I only have to practice singing today. Why?” he asks you back

You put on your sweetest smile “Don’t you want to try baking? I need some help with the rubric.”

Yuta’s eyes twinkle, it’s been his wish to try baking but because of practice and the amount of tools to wash and lack of time he hasn’t been able to do it. Now that you are offering him, he thinks he can seize the opportunity.

“Okay, I’ll try, who knows NCT will have a baking vlog after this, might flex about my skills” he smirks and you only grin at his cockiness.

“Okay, you can go.” You push him away after kissing his cheek and blushing when he winks at you and disappear behind the door.

Today you just have to wait for the team to send you the ingredients and recipes. You wonder what you’ll bake today no, what Yuta will bake today.

He was lucky the baking procedure he has to do today is easy. Simple lemon cake and you manage to get good pictures of Yuta’s hands and the aesthetic bowls and whiskers. You manage to hold the camera with your stiff casted hand, but it works even when you look super silly.

“Oh gosh! This is healing.” Yuta exclaims when his first cake comes out of the oven nicely and with a good aroma. You quickly take pictures and once it’s done, Yuta has already cut a slice and pops it into his mouth. “Yummy, I am talented indeed.” He sounds so confident and you hate to admit, his cake is better than what you expect and knowing your husband, you know he won’t stop bragging about this, he might even go as far as trying more baking recipes.

Your nightmare comes true, once his promotional schedule with NCT is over, he comes home with a load of baking supplies.

“Yuta, what’s all of this?” you ask when you help him bring in bags of spices, butters, and decorating tools.

“My promotional week is done and I have our well deserved rest! I am going to be productive and bake for you every day!” he smiles like a little kid who just get a chocolate and you can’t say no to him.

“Oh no, not every day Yuta!” you joke as you help him organize the spices into the kitchen racks.

He brought different types of flours and sugars, even bought yeast and baking sodas. Oh he really is planning to bake!

“Well, I have to finish some works have fun baking! Make sure you wear the apron and don’t set the oven too high. Wash the bowls too okay.” You pat his long hair and skip into your room.

Yuta takes his time to shower, sing in the bathroom, check the internet for easy recipes and even compare recipes from different websites.

His choice finally is decided on the famous banana cake, it doesn’t require mixer and he notices you have bananas at home.

“Flour, bananas, eggs, butter…” he bends to take the things out and places them all on the counter. Next he brings out the bowls and whiskers and the rest of the stuffs he needs.

“Okay all set,” he rubs his hands and takes the apron you have. Yuta’s lucky he can use your apron well, (thanks to his small waist). “And where is it,” he walks to the living room to get his small rubber band and as he bites the rubber between his teeth you happen to leave your room to get some water.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see a hot scene reveling in your eyes. If you bring something, you’d drop it already.

There under the golden hours of the sun from the window, Yuta is tying his hair up and his lip bites is not helping you. Not to mention the apron fitting him well. You kinda regret not buying a “cute” apron.

“Let me help,” you grin when Yuta fails to tie his hair. Somewhat in the middle of tying his hair we was surprised to see you gawking at him. He blushes a little when you step closer and take his hair into one bundle and expertly you tie the band around it.

“There you go! Neat and tidy.” You click your tongue and run a hand down his exposed biceps.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” you playfully ask him this when you learn just how “dolled” up he is. In your apron, smelling good, looking hot, and smirking.

“As much as you want me to tease you, see that?” he points to the kitchen and you follow his finger direction “I am baking you cake.”

You lead him to the kitchen, cool yourself down with a glass of iced water and Yuta starts to busy himself with the recipes.

He starts by measuring the cups of flour, sugars, and spoons of cinnamon and baking soda.

You choose to observe him instead of coming back to your work. You’re glad you have saved your works earlier and don’t have to return for it.

Yuta looks super serious when he cracks the eggs and starts mixing them to the dry ingredients. You take note at how accurate he is, you learned about the small details about baking through your rubric.

“Need help?” you ask when Yuta starts to whisk the mixture together. He brings his bowl to his waist and with his tilted head and angled hand, he starts whisking the batter.

You have to hold yourself back when you see how he looks delicious right now. With an apron, a tied hair, tongue sticking out of his lips from focusing, his flexed arm and how he smirks at you. Gosh he’s the real cake here! You wonder how will he react if you suddenly come and bite him there on his neck which is inviting you to bite a mark there. Hey mark!

“No, I got this.” He winks at you and continues whisking the ingredients. Another minute passed by, he adds the mashed bananas and some cut apples for better taste. You focus on his actions but mostly enjoying the show he gives to you.

“You look hot.” You blurt that out loud as you secretly eat the choco-chips he will add later. “You think I look hot? You haven’t seen me whisk a whipping cream or make a meringue!” Yuta says as h places the bowl down and begin doing the next step.

You lean over the counter, eager to see what he is doing next. “Okay, all set just add choco-chips and stir and pour to container.” He smiles nicely to you, expecting to get praises or just a satisfied face. But all Yuta sees is your side smirk.

Yuta can always read you like a book, so without losing his cool, he checks you up from head to toe. He notices how you’re not focusing on him, biting your lips, and your ears and cheeks are as red as strawberries right now!

He connects the dots in his head and snaps his finger in front of your face. You jump in surprise “What?” you yell, clearly annoyed that your fantasy session is destroyed.

“No you’re staring at me too intensely! Stop it,” he acts like his innocence just got violated.

You click your tongue “Yuta, blame yourself!” you pull your hair in despair when you feel your body heating up more and feel tingles slowly creeping up.

Yuta is ignoring you when he shows off his flexibility by bending forward to put his container in the oven. “And that’s the right temperature, now we wait!” he tosses the mittens aside and leans his body to the table you’re seating at. He glances to the cup of water with only ice cubes left, he grabs it up and swirls it around before sipping the remaining drops.

“What are you looking at Princess?” his playful remarks are slipping from his lips. You bite your lips down and try to shake whatever idea you have in your head after seeing him drink the last drop of water like that is the best water in the world. His Adam’s apple bopping is not helping you at all, you lick your lips and lowkey will kill him for making this looks so yummy and advertise-able.

“Nothin’” you lie though it is as clear as day that you are “eating” him in your mind.

“You sure? You don’t look like that.” He says and then knocking the glass to his lips to take the remaining ice cubes in his mouth.

You nod your head and turn redder if it’s possible. Dang Yuta is clearly teasing you and you love it. “I-“ you can’t stop your sentence for the next thing he does is taking your lips there with ice cubes in his mouth. The cold sensation wakes you up from your day dream and you press your hands over his trained arms. He passes the cube into your mouth and you’re surprised with this new sensation. Oh Yuta and his surprises!

He continues taking you there until there’s no more cubes left and both of you are already breathing harder and the atmosphere has turn super hot. Next thing you know, you’re already on the sofa pinned down by Yuta as he teases you with butterfly kisses here and there.

“Yuta-“ you moan out his name when you have the chance, your hand pulls on his hair so he can stop kissing you for a while “Your cake.” You breathily remind him about the cake in the oven.

“Hm? My timer hasn’t gone off.” He ignores your attempt to stop taking you here.

“You want this right? Or do you want to eat me instead? You really look desperate earlier.” He nuzzles into your neck and gives some generous kitten licks there.

“Oh you were teasing me!” you defend yourself “Admit it.” You push him away to see his eyes and get the truth out, but Yuta is Yuta and he always has his way of making you lost. “No, I did not. You were this turned on by me, that you were having such sexy thoughts in the middle of the day.” His hand travels south and you already stifle a moan so he won’t be cocky about it.

He already plays with the hem of your pants, only seconds to pulling them away and eating you raw there, but his timer goes off and he has the biggest grin on his face, while you the biggest disappointment. “Yuta!” you’re already sounding so desperate, tears are forming in your eyes and Yuta only chuckles, he wipes your tears and stands up from between your legs.

“Oops! My bad, cake is done! Why don’t we try it when it’s hot?” he leaves you to turn the oven off and takes the cake out. He left you like that! All teased up and messy.

“Yuta- you will pay for this.” You groan before ignoring the pain from the edged pleasure and stomping your feet angrily to the kitchen.

“Come try this, tell me if this is good.” He offers you a forkful and you angrily chomp down on it.

“Bad.” You mutter, as you cross your hands over your chest but still chew on the delicious cake.

“Bad? This is so yummy! I can take this to the boys, and they’ll ask for more.” Yuta towers above you.

You pout “Fine, its yummy.” Your hand reaches out for some more bites, but you stop and shake your head “You. Finish what you did to me, or I cannot enjoy my cake.”

He giggles and in one swift motion already has you in his arms “Alright my princess, let me enjoy my cake instead!” he brings you to the room and you’re already giggly again, giving him kisses and playing with his hair.

You swear you will kill him if he only leaves you in the room and goes back to eat his cake in the kitchen, lucky you he did not do that. You both know that the cake will be cold once you’re done with the session but who cares when Yuta can bake more of them!

And that is probably how you end up putting a bun in the oven with Yuta!

fin.

#yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta x y/n #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta fluff #yuta suggestive #yuta smut #yuta oneshot #yuta soft hours #yuta domestic fluff #domestic fluff #yuta #nct yuta scenarios #nct fluff #nct flirt line #nct yuta fluff #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta x reader

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years ago

Note

Henry finding his Little hiding in the master closet, crying her eyes out because she misunderstood him saying he wanted a new Little.

Oh sweet jesus! I have to admit this was good practice, im not one for angsty stuff but this turned out okay i think? I hope you like it

Warnings: DDLG, Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Tantrums

You hid on the stairs, standing on them so your eye were level with the floor of the landing.

Things were different since you come back home.

You'd been visiting your parents for two weeks to help out, they had moved to France inspired by the chateau renovations so packed up and moved into a huge castle like home.

Renovating was harder then they expected and needed some extra hands so you decided to help them out.

Its the least you can do when they were going to let you and henry get married there for free.

But then another lockdown came and you had to return home four days early, but it couldn't be helped, your parents sent you packing not wanting you to be stranded in France for months on end.

Henry had been too busy to come, saying he needed to stay home and sort out a few important things.

You'd been home just over a day and had noticed the house was different.

Well not the whole house, but there was no trace of any of your little things anymore.

Henry was busy running about the place chasing up phone calls and deliveries, he said he was late and still had too much to do and that he was sorry then locked himself in the office.

With brings you to now, alone confused and upset. So you decided to go and cuddle up in your nursery and wait out what ever had your daddy occupied.

Slowly you tip toed past the office hearing henry raise his voice growling a little.

You would have stopped and asked him if he was okay, but he got mad when you eavesdropped, it usually landed you on the naughty step.

You passed the office's cracked open door with ease, it'd be best to ask later. Besides the office wasn't a nice place, it was boring and you only ended up in there if you were bad and about to be spanked real bad! Its where your cane lived.

You scrunched your nose as you got closer to the nursery, the smell of paint and sawdust filling your nose. It was an awful stink!

Still you pressed forward stepping into the room.

You froze and suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

The room was bare, your toys and stuffies all packed in boxes in the corner.

Your crib was gone, the blanket fort, changing table everything!

The walls were now a pale seafoam green with sea otter stickers on them, tall seaweed stickers dotted about the room.

This wasn't your room! This wasn't your nursey!

You gasped panicking looking around feeling your tummy drop and twist, a lump in your throat.

They pink princess blinds gone, your drawings no where to be found.

There was nothing of yours in here! Nothing at all.

You crumpled to the floor as you spied the wall that once held your name in cute cursive stickers on it. They too were gone, removed and the wall painted over.

You shook your head trembling, you hadn't come in here yesterday, you'd come home and gone straight to bed you were tired it'd been hell getting home.

You stepped backwards out of the forign room on the verge of tears.

You sniffled rubbing your eyes and padded down the hall again unsure what all this meant.

"Yes... Yes I know-No of course I haven't told her!.... Yes I know change is hard for littles but she'll be okay, once I explain things she will be fine, she's a tough cookie" henry huffed down the phone irritated. You crept closer to the door and listened closer, perhaps spying with once will help reassure you. Because this must be a misunderstanding.

"yes well I want to move on, everytime I go in there... Its not her room never has been they are two completely different littles both in age and personality, I didn't- I never changed it until now... Honestly I'm sick of the sight of it, we all need a fresh start once in a while" henry explained with a sharp bite to his words.

You froze on the spot, two different littles? He had two? You didn't know that.

Your heart pulled painfully in your chest as you got an image of a faceless yet beautiful 'proper little' who liked nappies and bottles!

You bit your lip and shifted trying to hear more clearly, because this didn't seem right, you couldn't belive

"I was hoping to have it done before she got back and sort of ease her into it on the way home but then the lockdown.... Yes well I just think of this as a new start- like having a brand new little... I'm excited to begin again! This time its for real and I'm pouring everything I can into it..."

"I really do love her, so so much and this is it for me. I've tried so hard to make this happen but now.. I don't want to upset her but we need this, its been a year now and.. I don't know maybe I'm selfish but I want this to be my littles room, my true little girls home you know? Not the other one"

"so do you think it'll be here today? I'll send y/n out with Kal when you bring it round, no point having a little misunderstanding before i can explain things properly, yes okay.. Okay i will see you this afternoon, bye"

You covered your mouth at the way his voice picked up, he was happy... And he was replacing you.

You jumped up running down the hall trying not to let him hear you crying.

You found yourself in the closet sobbing your heart out cursing him as you curled up in the corner shutting the door behind you with a loud slam.

Not that you cared, you were far to upset, slowly pawing at your clothes tugging them off the hangers.

You watched through blurry eyes as your hands tugged and bundled the clothes wiping your face on them as you tried to pull yourself together and pack your stuff knowing you would be sent on your way very soon.

You bawling was halted as the closet door was ripped open a panicked henry standing there panting, clearly he had been running.

"oh-god baby what's wrong?! What's happened princess-"

"NO! NO YOU DON'T- LE-LEAVE ME ALONE!" you shouted at him sobbing your heart out.

Henry frowned at your anger and despair. Then crouched down in front of you.

"baby what's wrong love? I got here as fast as I could- are you hurt? Why are you so upset babygirl?" he pleaded wide worried eyes looking you over trying to see what had made you cry so bad.

"N-NO YOU JUST-FUCK OFF YOUR NOT MY DADDY! YOUR NO'MY DADDY! YOUR A LIAR AND BAD-IM GOING HOME- GONNA GO TO FRANC WITH MUMMAND DAD AND-AND LIVE IN A CATLE AND FIND A REAL PRNCE-" you screamed at him sobbing louder.

Henry frowned and tried you coax you out of the closet unsure what the hell had gotten into you, it wasn't like you to throw such a tantrum.

"hey nugget that's not very nice baby, here come here and lets talk-" he spoke hurt and upset as his hands moved to tug you out of the closet.

You growled and snapped your teeth at him and began smacking him aiming for his, hands face, legs anything you could reach wanting him to leave you alone.

"HEY! Whoa what the hell is wrong with you young lady? Now you get your butt out here now!" henry snapped managing to capture your wrists and tug you out of the closet as you screamed and thrashed.

"NOOO NO NO YOUR NOT MY DADDY! YOU-R NO'm-my daddy your not!" you shouting became a broken sobs as henry picked you up and laid on the bed with you tucking you into his body wrapping himself around you.

You stayed like that crying into the pillow tugging every so often trying to free yourself from him.

"now do you want to explain where all this is coming from?" he asked getting upset with you as you wouldn't explain what was going on instead you just cried harder.

After a few more minuets of henry shushing you and kissing your head you calmed enough to start explaining.

"y-you don't wan'me!" you muttered as you wept still unable to fully stop your crying.

"wh-what?! Oh baby what do you mean I don't want you? I love you!" he implored quickly unsure where this was

"liar, you said- to the man that your movin' on and stratin'gain an- an my room! Daddy my stuffs gone! And and-lemme go! Your not-your mean!" you whimpered before getting all worked up again choking on your own sobs and began fussing again trying to get away once more.

"alright alright now that's enough. You silly girl were you eavesdropping again little one? This is why daddy has told you not to eavesdrop! You only heard half of the conversation-" he began scolding quietly realising what had happened.

"i heard 'nouhg" you cut him off snidely

"you heard nothing, you silly girl. Daddy isn't getting rid of you, or your things- well not everything" he huffed having just about enough of this tantrum already.

"I'm redecorating your nursery for you. I'm ridding the house of my old little! Dumping all her furniture and getting you your own customised stuff" he said makeing you pause and rub your eyes craning your head to look back at him.

"wh-wha?"

Henry sighed and gave you a pointed look.

"see you might think you heard enough but you didn't, daddy in making a cute little seaside nursery, that why their are sea otters on your wall, their your favourite animal aren't they?." he chided speaking slowly to be sure you were listening.

"w-well yeah b-but my names gone?" you blubbered quietly starting to feel silly for your out burst.

"because daddy was painting the walls poppet and your names on your new crib that's coming today, this was a surprize for when you come home from France... Your own brand new nursery for a toddling little, not a baby-baby..." he hummed softly kissing your shoulders.

You sniffled and mewled before quickly spinning around to face him and then began crying into him feeling guilty. He was doing something nice and you ruined it!

Henry chuckled but held you close hushing you sweetly pressing kisses to your head as he soothed you.

"here come with me" he urged standing picking you up taking you into the office.

You squirmed and clutched at him tightly worried he was gonna spank you for being naughty, eavesdropping, hitting, biting swearing and batting? That was quite a tally.

Instead henry sat on the chair and logged into the computer.

"here see? This it yours and coming today" he said motioning to the screen showing an incredibly beautiful lightwood crib your name carved into the head and foot board with tiny wave detailing and a small pattern of shells on the rim.

"see, your my true little and as such daddy wants to make it official by making you your very own sea side themed nursery, with new toys and furniture and blankie! Starting fresh this time with everything all centred around my perfect little one!" he hummed kissing your head as you sniffled and panted.

"s-so your not- gettin' rid of me?" you whimpered looking to your lap.

"god no! We're getting married! Your my babygirl and I'm your daddy! I'll always be your daddy... I'm sorry to have scared you poppet, i just wanted to surprize you but.. I should of warned you shouldn't I?" henry sighed twisting you in his lap and snuggling you.

"n-no i should've asked and not been bad daddy... Sorry... You can spank me for bein' bad"

"... Although you do deserve a spanking for spying and bratting... Daddy will make you a deal, you help me finish your nursery and I will ignore your naughtiness." he offered holding out a pinky to you.

"r-really i can help?" you asked quietly twiddling your fingers shyly feeling more and more guilty for your behaviour as the seconds ticked by.

"yes poppet, you can help" he said rubbing your back with a little chuckle as you leant into him.

"and no spankin'?" you asked slowly

"not unless you want one to make you feel better" he agreed, but he knew sometimes you didn't want to be let off, sometimes you were to upset with yourself and wanted him to correct you.

"No.. I don't want a spankin daddy.." you said warily glancing at the small space behind the large money tree, the plant hiding your cane just out of view.

"okay then it's a deal, no spankings in return of some hard labour!" he teased and hooked his pinkie around yours making it a real deal then kissed you and squeezed you tight groaning.

"such a silly nugget, you should know by now daddy loves you too much to ever leave you, noone-absolutely no one can ever make me as happy as you!" he assured you feeling a lump form in his throat, he couldn't wait until you were married, then maybe you'd stop all your worrying, you seemed to have this strange idea that you wasn't good enough. Or little enough.

You liked cribs and sippy's and pacies occasionally bottles- when you were ill mostly but not nappies or that type of care. You were a three to four.

"i love you daddy, you are my daddy... I was mad" you anounced quietly nibbling your fingers shyly almost using them to hide behind.

"i know baby, but thank you it means the world to hear you say that, now lets go make some lunch then make a start- we have to stain the skirting board on the back wall before your crib gats here" he said standing up with you setting you on his hip and began moveing though the house.

You rested your face in his neck breathing him in, that had been the most terrifying moment you'd had in this relationship! The thought of him leaving you after you sharing so much with him was your worst nightmare.

All you could say was that from now on, you really wasn't going to eavesdrop anymore. If you had questions you would ask instead to avoid things like this in the future.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x little!reader #ddllg blog #oh-for-fic-sake ask #oh for fic sake headcannon #henry cavill imagine

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agerefandom · 4 years ago

Text

Restrained

Fandom: Death Note

Words: 4,150

Characters: Regressor!Light Yagami, Caregiver!L/Ryuzaki. Brief appearances from Soichiro Yagami, Shuichi Aizawa, and Watari.

Summary: Set during Light and Misa’s imprisonment (episode 16-17). Classification/Regressors Are Known AU: Light was classified as a regressor when he was fifteen, but has fought the identity ever since. L is classified as a caregiver, but has never used those skills further than calming people in interrogation situations. Things come to a head in the second month of Light’s imprisonment.

Warnings: Imprisonment, irresponsible use of restraints, mentions of death and murder, nightmares, panic attacks, involuntary regression, hidden regression being revealed non-consensually. Ominous ending.

Author’s Notes: I usually take issue with Classification AUs, because regression is a coping mechanism and not a fixed part of someone’s identity. Regression can change, and regressors can also be caregivers, and the idea that it could be ‘classified’ as part of someone’s political identity is kind of distressing. All of that said, it’s also a very comforting trope: it’s nice to imagine that you were ‘meant to be’ a regressor, naturally given that role, and that there are natural caregivers who want/need to take care of you. So, there are pros and cons to this kind of universe, as long as you remember that it’s an AU for a reason! Anyways, that’s my soapboxing done. Please note the warnings before reading!

Light was not a regressor.

It didn’t matter what the letter he received at age fifteen said. Didn’t matter that his age range was listed as ‘2-3’ and a permanent caregiver was recommended. Light Yagami was a neutral, collected, and precocious teenager. He was mature for his age, and always had been.

Admittedly, Light occasionally sucked his thumb to help him sleep. And he convinced his mother to buy him more expensive sheets because he liked to run his hands across the texture. And maybe he cast side-glances at the adult playgrounds all around the city, at the regressors who were happily running and playing on the swings.

But Light Yagami was not a regressor. He got top marks. He wore stiff, professional clothes. He didn’t cry, not even when he stubbed his toe. He turned his nose up at sweet drinks and packaged candy. In short, at seventeen, Light was a model young man.

Which was when the notebook fell outside his classroom window, and everything got a lot more complicated.

Could a regressor do this? Collectively bring the world to its knees, the news outlets humming with one story? Could a regressor kill hundreds, save the general population from the evil in its midst?

Light Yagami was Kira, and Kira was not an age regressor.

Light Yagami was not Kira.

Light was trapped in a cell, his arms shackled behind his back, and he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t Kira. What kind of idea was that, marching in and saying he thought he was subconsciously Kira? Absurd. He wouldn’t do that kind of thing.

He yelled at the ceiling, pleaded with Ryuzaki, and received cold answers in return.

How had Light sat here for a week, believing that Ryuzaki had been right to lock him away? It was absurd: he couldn’t have committed the murders without knowing at all, it just didn’t make sense.

“You told me to keep you in there, no matter what you said,” Ryuzaki repeated calmly, his voice crackling through the cheap speakers outside of Light’s cell. “I’m only doing what you told me.”

“Well, stop!” Light shouted, tugging uselessly against the leather cuffs that held his arms behind him. His shoulders ached from the position. “Listen to me now, I’m not Kira!”

“We don’t know that,” Ryuzaki said. “Until we can be sure, you will stay in that cell. I’m sorry, Light.”

Light felt tears well up in his eyes, and he jerked his head down to hide it. With his bangs hiding his expression, he tried to wrestle himself under control.

He felt scared and helpless and he just didn’t understand what he was doing here. Let me out! a voice was screaming inside him, younger and just as frightened as he was. Please, I can’t take it anymore!

What was he thinking? He was Light Yagami, part of the taskforce dedicated to catching Kira. He could withstand this. He would have to.

He didn’t bother to hide the tears as he raised his eyes again to the camera.

“Fine. I’ll stay. But you’ll see that I’m not Kira! I don’t know what’s happening, but I believe that my innocence will be proven one way or another.”

“That’s exactly what Kira would say,” Ryuzaki drawled into the microphone, and then there was a short sound of feedback as the conversation cut off.

Light rocked back to lean against the side of the bed, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He’d made his statement, and he had fought off the despair. He was Light Yagami, and he would deal with this imprisonment with all the dignity he could.

This was awful.

Light had never been so bored and anxious in his life. The days stretched on, with only Ryuzaki’s occasional check-ins to keep his mind busy. Out of lack for other things to do, Light started sleeping more than usual. His days were hazy, short bathroom trips out of the cell and the clatter of the food tray his only reference points for time. The lights shut off for seven hours every night, the cameras equipped with night vision to watch him toss and turn in his restraints.

There was nothing to do but ruminate, worry, wonder. Light tried to run through lectures in his head, even tried his hand at mentally writing a story. He wondered if he could convince Ryuzaki to play chess with him over the speaker system, but found himself worrying about whether that would make it seem like he wasn’t taking his imprisonment seriously.

It had been a month, and Light was suffering.

The nights were hardest. In the dark, Light cried, trying to stay quiet. He couldn’t bite his thumb, he couldn’t feel his soft blankets, and sometimes he couldn’t sleep for the tug of the restrains at his wrists and shoulders. He wanted to kick his legs, flail around, scream at the top of his lungs until they let him out. But he was Light Yagami, and he had dignity. Even with cameras fixed on him twenty-four hours a day, even with his wrists and ankles contained, even under the constant scrutiny of Ryuzaki and the other members of the task force.

He almost made it to the end.

Things that Light didn’t know:

-it had been a month since Kira had begun killing again -his father was in a matching jail cell, several blocks away -the task force had been pressuring L for weeks to let Light and Misa go, convinced by the new wave of murders that the two were innocent -L had a plan, and was simply waiting to contact Light’s father to play his part

(Light would never know most of these things, because before they became relevant, everything fell apart.)

L sat in the same place he’d been sitting for weeks, watching the same scenes play out on the same flickering screens. Misa sagged against her restraints, Light laid curled up on the bed, and Soichiro sat in his chair, staring down at his hands.

Nothing had changed, but everything was different.

Light and Misa were Kira, or at least they had been. L had never been more certain. Now they both seemed utterly convinced of their innocence, and L wasn’t comfortable with the implications of that. Were they truly ignorant of their role? Had their ability to kill been passed onto someone else, or had the two of them been unwitting puppets to some new and yet-unseen player?

Misa took a struggling breath, and went limp again. Light shifted. Soichiro got up and began to pace. His cell would fit eight of his steps before he had to turn around and begin again in the other direction.

L missed nothing. But the pieces weren’t coming together.

He tapped his fingers against his knees, a syncopated rhythm as his eyes flashed from one prisoner to the next. Watari had brought him a plate of fruit, not yet touched, with icing sugar sprinkled over them. They would make L’s fingers sticky, and he didn’t want to get juice on the controls. He would have to eat with one hand, and operate the microphones with his other. He was just about due his check-in with Misa-Misa.

Just as L began to reach for the berries, a movement on-screen caught his eye. He didn’t currently have the audio on for the cells, but from the visual, he would guess that Light just woke up screaming. L has had a few of those nightmares. They weren’t pleasant.

L switched the audio on, and listened to Light trying to calm himself down. He was talking out loud, a mutter only loud enough for the microphones inside his cell to pick up on. (Light always yelled to the camera when he was talking to L, as if he weren’t aware that the cell was bugged well enough to hear every last breath he took. They could take no risks with Kira, when they still didn’t know how he was committing the crimes.)

“I’m okay,” Light was muttering. “Don’t… don’t do this. I don’t need anything. I’m okay.” His breathing caught, paused, and then resumed. “I’m okay. Please, please- don’t.” His voice was trembling, and L leaned closer. He’d seen Light crying, of course, trying to hide it by turning away from the cameras. But this seemed… different. Light was on the edge of something, and if L was lucky, it might be some kind of confession, fuelled by a terrible dream that brought all of his crimes rushing back with the sudden weight of guilt that Kira never felt.

Yes, L had enough self-reflection to know that he was kidding himself. But it had been a long month and a half.

He remained crouching, one hand poised above the plate of strawberries and the other hand hovering above the microphone that would let him speak to Light. And he listened.

“I don’t wan’ do this,” Light whispered to himself, his words slurring together in a way that L had never heard from the other man. The distressed voice hooked its claws into his chest in a way that was both foreign and familiar. Was this… “I don’ wan’ do this,” Light repeated, and then burst into tears.

It wasn’t anything like the quiet, hidden tears of the night-time. Light was sobbing, pulling at his restraints, tossing on the bed. Unable to wipe them away, tears and snot made a mess of his face. L watched as the teenager struggled to his knees and pressed himself against the wall, as if he were trying to get some kind of comfort from the pressure. The tears wouldn’t stop, even as words started making their way through the sobs.

“Lemme out, I wan’ out, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too dark, I can’t. Please, I’m too… I can’t feel my hands!” Light wailed, collapsing in on himself, his shoulders straining against the cuffs.

L was dimly aware that his hands had dropped to his sides. He knew he was staring. He knew that Aizawa had come running to stand behind him, alerted by the cries coming through the speakers. His ears were ringing, and he could feel Light’s sobs in his own chest.

The truth was unavoidable: Light Yagami was a regressor, and L had not known.

How was that possible?

Light was registered as age-natural on his official documents. L had watched him for weeks, and he had shown no signs of regression, not at home when he was unaware of being observed, and not here in the prison cell. Until now.

This was a harsh involuntary regression, from the looks of it, and the part of L that had made them stamp ‘caregiver’ on his own documents was aching.

“Oh my god. Is Light a regressor?” Aizawa said behind him. “That looks like regression, right?”

“It isn’t on his file,” L said, pleased that his voice sounded even. He hadn’t been around a regressor in distress for a few years, and he’d forgotten how much it made his chest hurt. Knowing that he’d been the one to put Light in that situation made it worse. Rationally, he knew that Light being a regressor meant nothing to the investigation. In fact, it made L even more certain that he was Kira. To conceal his headspace that thoroughly, even under investigation, made it clear that Light was no ordinary teenager. That must have taken an immense amount of willpower and planning.

“You have to let him out,” Aizawa said. “You can’t hold a regressor in a place like that, and his innocence has already been proven.” Light was still sobbing, his harsh breaths providing an undercurrent to their conversation. “Ryuzaki, you can’t possibly let that continue.”

“I… think he knew this might happen,” L realized. “This is what he meant when he asked me not to let him out, whatever happened. He knew that he would regress under the pressure.”

“All the more reason to release him! He still doesn’t know that Kira is killing again, it’s not fair. You’ve put him under way too much stress. Let me talk to him.” Aizawa reached for the microphone, and L struck his hand away.

“No. The last thing he needs is more sensory input from the speaker system.” Aizawa recoiled from the physical interception, eyes wide. “And you could jeopardize the investigation,” L added, slightly belated.

“You can’t do this. I’ll call the rest of the team,” Aizawa threatened, reaching into his pocket.

“There’s no need for that,” L sighed. He knew that the rest of the team would agree with Aizawa. The legal system was more lenient for regressors, and keeping them in solitary confinement was widely considered cruel. “I’ll go myself.”

Just because Light couldn’t be held in the cell anymore didn’t mean that L was prepared to let him go without twenty-four-hour supervision. Luckily, he had a set of unusually long handcuffs that he’d already been prepared to use after Light’s release. He could just speed that process along… and tell Watari to order some more regressor-friendly accessories for their room, of course. Maybe pad the cuff that Light would wear, so he didn’t accidentally hurt himself.

L shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table with a sigh. His caregiver mind was getting in the way again. Light was Kira, regressor or no. He wasn’t keeping Light close so that he could take care of him, but so that he was unable to hurt anyone else.

“We’ll discuss Misa’s release when I return,” L added over his shoulder as he headed for the door, reaching into his pocket to call Watari with the car. Light’s prison was a short drive from the base, and the sooner L got there, the better.

Sure enough, the drive was agony.

L stared out the window, the seatbelt Watari had forced him to wear digging into his chest and disrupting his thoughts. He was trying to make plans, trying to think back to all of his interactions with Light and wonder if he should have known. Was that why Light had always sharply refused any kind of sweet drink, even something as simple as fruit juice? Was he afraid that he might slip into regression? Was that why he had been crying at night, quietly regressing just enough for his childish fears to come to the surface? How confused was he, how disoriented in the cell? He seemed to know he was trapped, but did he remember what he was accused of?

L barely noticed when the car came to a stop, but when Watari opened his door for him, it took genuine effort not to go running into the building. Instead, L moved even slower than he usually would. Each gesture would be planned. Each word intentional. Just because Light was a regressor, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. L had to be on his guard, even more because of his natural caregiver instincts.

He made his way down the cold concrete stairwell, Watari a few paces behind him. Hands tucked in his pockets, breathing slow and natural. No worries about what he might have missed in the two minutes he’d been away from the screens. Had Light hurt himself? Was he safe? Was he still crying? L should have brought water, he’s sure to be dehydrated-

They stepped onto the cell block, and L had a brief conversation with one of the guards to obtain the keys. He’d already texted ahead, and they knew to expect him.

Watari stayed behind, just within earshot as L padded down the line of empty cells to the one that held Light.

It was strange to see the cell in person. For the first time, L could see the camera that Light had shouted at so often. He could see the details of the walls more clearly here, the chipped tile of the bathroom corner and the scratches in the concrete that didn’t come through on the long-distance video feed.

And there was Light, curled into a ball on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms still tied behind him, much in the same position that he had been napping in before his nightmare.

L had approached soundlessly, and Light’s eyes were closed. He didn’t open them until L put the key into the lock and turned it.

“N—no, I don’t-” Light stuttered, and then looked up. “Ryuzaki? Ryuzaki!” He tried to get up, but the cuffs on his ankles made him stumble and fall. L heard his knees hit the concrete with a harsh crack, and Light teared up again. “No, no, don’t come in. M’sorry, don’t come in.”

“I’ll let you out of the cuffs,” L told him, his hand on the door but waiting to open it.

“No, I don’t want it,” Light managed. “Just… go.”

“Light, how old are you?” L pressed.

Light made a sound that resembled a squeak, and very slowly raised his eyes to L’s.

“How old are you right now?” L asked again. He watched Light’s expression twist from surprise to embarrassment to conflict, then Light started crying again.

“I don’t wanna be,” Light sobbed. “I don’ wan’ it.”

And there went L’s chest again, twisting and aching with the sound of a regressor in distress. He regulated his voice, unwilling to let it sound too caring. It came out flat instead.

“There’s no shame in regressing, Light. Two percent of the population isn’t an insignificant number. You’ll be more comfortable with your arms free.” Light shook his head, tears flying with the gesture.

“No! Don’t come in!”

“How old are you, Light? You’re young, I can tell that much. Probably in the toddler range, if I had to guess.” From Light’s glare through the tears, L had hit the nail on the head. “I thought so. Stop fighting me. I was going to let you out soon anyways.” Well, L hadn’t been meant to say that. But he could probably use that to his advantage.

“But… but you think I’m Kira,” Light mumbled. Interesting: he did have his full memories, then. Very little disorientation for such a young age range.

“I do,” L admitted. “But the taskforce doesn’t. They want you back on the team.”

“Me?” Light blinked up at him, and his eyes were even wider than usual, framed with perfect dark lashes, and L was in agony being separated by bars. This regressor was going to be the death of him. “But… I thought the bad things stopped ‘cause I was here.”

L was fascinated by the limits of Light’s mental reasoning while he was regressed. He would have to do some experimentation at a later time, but for now…

“I lied. Kira has been active for almost a month. I wasn’t convinced it meant you were innocent, but it makes a good case.” L watched that news hit home, but in a very different way than it would have hit an adult Light.

“You lied? Why? I thought… I thought I was bad, maybe, but you were lying!” Light tried to wipe his tears on his shoulder, only partially succeeding. “I don’ wanna know why. Probably a good reason, ‘cause you’re L and you do all the good things.”

Hmm. It seemed that Light’s certainty that he wasn’t Kira didn’t extend to his regressed self. Perhaps he was speaking more candidly in this headspace.

“I’m not fond of unnecessary cruelty,” L sighed, hooking one hand through the bars. “If I had known, Light-”

“You never woulda had me on the task force,” Light said, quite viciously. “Never ever.”

“That’s not true.” L traced one thumb against his lips. “I’ve known regressors who are exceedingly intelligent. Everything would have proceeded the same.”

“Even though I’m three?” Light asked, and L fought the urge to smile. Information, at last. Three. He stored that away.

“Even though you’re three,” L confirmed. “Your input is valuable to me. In fact, I would like to invite you back to the taskforce after you’ve recovered from this imprisonment.”

“Yes!” Light shuffled forwards on his knees, wincing at the movement. He probably bruised them earlier when he fell. “Yes, please! I wanna help catch Kira! And all the bad guys!” His eyes were shining with excitement and the tears from earlier. Looking down at him, L’s mind caught in a loop.

Light Yagami was Kira, but this… this was not Kira. What that meant about Light, or Kira, or the nature of Light’s regression, L couldn’t say, but he was certain of one thing.

“Can I come in now?” L asked.

Light visibly hesitated, then sank back onto his heels and nodded.

“Thank you.” L left the keys in the lock as he swung open the door and entered, making his way to Light briskly. It was easy enough to get the cuffs off his wrists, and Light whined when his hands were free, struggling to move his shoulders back into a natural position. “Give it time,” L advised, pressing at his spine with experienced fingers. Massages were one of his lesser-used skills, but easy to pick up with his wide knowledge of the human body. “They’ll hurt less in a few minutes.”

He wasn’t expecting Light to shift forward and wrap his arms around him, but that was exactly what happened.

L froze, his hands raised in the air as if in surrender. He’d comforted regressors before, at crime scenes and over interrogation tables. A few of the children at the orphanage were regressors, and he interacted with them when he visited. But none of them had dove into a hug like this. L was a detective, a mentor, a little too strange and intense to be approachable. Now there were arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, and L didn’t know what to do.

Falteringly, L returned the embrace, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on his own forearms. Light had lost weight over the last month, and his body felt almost frail against L.

“Had a nightmare,” Light whispered.

L wondered if Aizawa was listening, back at the base. He wondered if Watari had wandered closer, after hearing the cell door open. He wondered what kind of things Kira dreamed about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” L asked, and didn’t lean back from the embrace.

“It was bad,” Light said. “I was running, and there were hands, and a fence, an’ there were… bodies. On the fence. And they were… they were…” L could feel Light shaking, and he held the regressor just a little bit closer.

“Just a dream,” L said. He wondered how much blood was on Light’s hands, how much of it he remembered. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream.” L held Light in his arms, the ache in his chest finally fading as he looked down at him. There, the regressor was safe, and L could finally relax. Light’s breathing slowly evening out, his grasp on L’s shirt finally loosening. “You’re safe.”

Light blinked up at L sleepily, and then his eyes slid closed. A natural reaction to stress, and having a caregiver close by. Even if L hadn’t disclosed his classification, his actions combined with Light’s instincts had likely made it clear. L cradled Light in his arms, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and watched him fall asleep. He would have no more nightmares with a caregiver so close by, and even if he did, L would be there to calm him down.

L knew that this was trouble. Light was Kira, and Kira was death. L’s instincts as a caregiver could only blind him further as he continued in the investigation. If he were being rational, he would attach Light to someone else for the rest of his surveillance period. Prevent the caregiver/regressor bond that had been formed between them from strengthening into something difficult to break.

But L didn’t like being rational. He followed his instincts, and they were always right.

Right now, his instincts told him two things.

I will not let go of Light Yagami.

This will be the death of me.

#death note agere #fandom agere #agere writing #agere fanfiction #agere stories #my writing #death note

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belladonnix · 4 years ago

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Once upon a time, I used to know another god. He was the god of the streams that ran from the mountain and through my forest. We had encountered eachother on various occasions - I would like to have said we were friends at one time. We would talk of his rivers, and his falls, and his streams. We would discuss the music of the water, the chirping of the frogs in his ponds.

But he would never speak to me of my trees, or the beauty of my flora, the livelyness of my fauna. He would not speak to me of my work, if he admired my forest I will never know. I still remember how his grey eyes lost their shine of excitement at the mention of my mosses or my ferns or my saplings.

I would like to have said he was a very fine friend. We shared many good times together. Even as the surrounding settlements ceased their worshipping of us, as they moved on from "primitive things" and away from us - we still relied on eachother.

Until one day I noticed, his rivers had started stretching further away from my forest. They slowly began to shrink away from the land, as if retreating to the mountain. The wells began to sink, the brooks no longer babbled, until the banks began to crack from the lack of water.

I lamented for days that he could be suffering. That something may have happened to him or his precious mountain. I called out to him, in the way gods do. I called out to him with my trees, I called out to him with my dreams, I called out to him for months until I realized.

Despite being the only 2 of our kind as far as we knew of at the time, he had grown tired of me. He had pulled away into himself and was never coming back. He had done this before, there would be a drought and I would let him sit in turmoil until he was ready to return. But this felt different, the air no longer smelled as the mountain did, the chill of the icy cap had vanished as if it had never permeated the depths of my forest.

What you humans call heartbreak is possibly the closest thing to what I experienced back then. My soul bore a new kind of pain, a pain I have never stopped feeling - I hesitate to explain something a corporeal being may have never experienced.

My howls shattered the clouds, my groans split the earth - all the while my forest slowly desiccated and decomposed before my eyes.

Until the tears came. Like a flood they pored from me, the very pit of my soul rumbled the storm in my bones and shook the sky dry. And once it was done I slept. I slept for a long time. Sealed in pitch blackness by a blanket of moss and curtains of vines across the jagged entrance to a cave, I slept for decades.

When I awoke, the pain had only lessened. I had pleaded for it to vanish and yet it was still there. I tried to sleep again, but to no avail.

When I finally left the cave, I was astounded - my forest had flourished! The moss and ferns were lush against the floor, the trees had grown taller than you can imagine, the deer pranced around in their families, chewing on thick, full shrubs. The ponds were no longer dry. The brooks had started to babble.

In my utter excitement and despair, I called out to my old friend. But he didn't respond. As my calling turned to sobs I was distracted by the sky - the more my soul trembled, the more the clouds grew dark. The coulds broke and a downpour crashed down onto the forest. My howls, again, rumbled the earth. And the quivering in my soul ceased, as did the rain.

And it occured to me that the forest had been taking care of me, as I had taken care of it for countless centuries. The leaves shone a little greener, the ponds looked a little fuller. And I realised I didn't need his rivers to help bring out my wood land's luster. I didn't need him as much as I "loved" him.

I think about him somtimes... and when I think no one is listening, I call out to him, to see if he's around. He never is. And I cry every time. But my forest wraps itself around me, sheltering me from the wrath of the pelting rain. But the rain is what reminds me that even though he isn't here, wherever he may be, the good times we shared will always remain here; in the rings of the trees, in the dirt and the atmosphere.

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radiorenjun · 4 years ago

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cigarettes || kim doyoung

➶ pairing: kim doyoung x reader

➶ genre: angst, established relationship

➶ word count: 2k

➶ synopsis: You and Doyoung keep having arguments because of your occasional smoking habit. To you, it’s just a cigarette. To Doyoung, it was more than that.

➶ warnings: swearing, arguments, shitty writing, mild ANGST, half-assed fic, character death, mentions of cancer, smoking addiction, smoking, mentions of drinking, bad reputation in high school

➶ a/n: big thanks to @lebrookestore for making this EXQUISITE HEADER

➶ based on the song Cigarette Duet by Princess Chelsea

“It’s just a cigarette and it cannot be that bad.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, pulling out a cigarette from the package and a lighter from your back pocket. “Honey, don’t you love me ‘cause you know it makes me sad,” Doyoung frowned, crossing his arms over his chest with furrowed brows as he watched you walk to the balcony, lighting the cigarette up without a care in the world, ignoring his glare from across the room.

Doyoung was worried for you. You had been starting to smoke cigarettes whenever you were too stressed as you, just like him, didn’t like to talk things out. You didn’t think much of it considering you were only smoking a few a week, but Doyoung had a far greater worry in his mind. He didn’t want you to get an addiction because of something utterly stupid.

“It’s just a cigarette like you always use to do,” you rolled your eyes, taking a deep puff from the small tube. Doyoung grimaced at your words, letting out a small inaudible hiss under his breath . He turned his face away to avoid your eyes, sighing heavily.

“I was different then, I don’t need them to be cool,” he answered rather hesitantly, his pupils avoiding your own as you let out a soft scoff at him.

You both knew deep down Doyoung was only worried because he was scared that you were going to fall into the same dark abyss as he did back when the two of you were still in high school. Doyoung was previously a smoker himself. He hung out with the wrong crowd. He did many bad things in his youth, he did a lot of things he knew he shouldn’t. He was the first one in your relationship to start smoking, he had a really bad smoking addiction back then just for the sake of impressing his former so-called ‘friends’.

And one of the biggest mistakes in his life was encouraging you into trying it as well. Of course back then you weren’t that interested but you did try it out under his encouragement, and ever since then you would take a few small puffs whenever he would offer it. But recently you had decided to try it out when you were at a bar at one of the frat parties near your community college, a couple months after Doyoung finally got over his smoking addiction. And now you couldn’t help but smoke a cig or two a week whenever the stress of college and work piles down on you.

Doyoung sighed as he got up from his place on the couch to walk and join you on the balcony, wrapping his arms around your waist with a small pouting frown on his lips. He leaned his chin down on your shoulder and his head against yours, the sadness in his pupils sending small jolts of pain into your own heart.

“I know, it’s just a cigarette but it harms your pretty lungs,” Doyoung mumbled against the fabric of your thin white shirt. (which happens to belong to him) You purse your lips, blowing out a puff of smoke as you look down at the view bestowed upon the two of you, eyes gazing up a the cloudy night sky.

“Well, it’s only twice a week. So there’s not much of a chance,” you nuzzled your head against his lovingly, ignoring his puppy dog eyes boring holes into your skull as he watched you take another puff from the white cigarette. “I know, but one can turn into ten, y/n. You know that very much,” Doyoung pouted, tightening his hold on your waist as he moved his head to lean his cheek on your shoulder, pressing a small kiss to the space between your ear and jaw.

“Honey, don’t you trust me? When I want to stop I can,” you reassured him, making both of your heart aches as he grew silent at the statement.

That was exactly what he said back when he still had his smoking addiction.

“It’s just a cigarette!” you exclaimed.

Another pointless argument, another night of the two of you screaming at each other until your throats were sore.

You were tired. Doyoung was tired. But you knew Doyoung wouldn’t stop complaining about it until you stopped smoking. And today he had found out that you had moved on into a more harsher brand of cigarettes, clearly he wasn’t happy at all considering it was way more addicting than the brand you were using previously.

“‘It’s just a cigarette’? It’s malboro light! This is going too far, you’re going to stop smoking permanently whether you like it or not!” Doyoung shook his head at you, his eyes glaring daggers into your own as you clenched your fist and gritted your teeth in anger. “It’s not that big of a deal, Doyoung!” you shot back, “ I don’t know why you’re blowing this completely out of proportion!”

“I’m not blowing this out of proportion. This is going to go downhill if you don’t stop. And even if I am overreacting is one measly cigarette really worth it if we end up fighting again?” Doyoung retorted, his expression filled with disbelief at how stupid you were being. Why can’t you just listen and try to stop? Your smoking count had gone up from two per week to five a day and it was getting way out of hand.

You groaned out of frustration. “I’m not going to argue about this again. I’m tired, it’s almost midnight. Can’t we just go to sleep and talk about it some other time?” you pleaded, wishing that Doyoung would drop the conversation again until some other day. Unfortunately for you, unlike the other days, Doyoung had enough of avoiding this conversation. He didn’t want to watch you walk down to your own death in his very own eyes.

He was in your position once too, you were just too stubborn to listen to him. He didn’t want you to go to the extent of smoking two large packs a day like he did back when the two of you were still in your first year of college. It broke his heart to see the person he loves the most slowly ruin their pretty lungs and the only thing he can do is try to convince you to stop every single day.

“No. This has gone on way too long and way too far, this is going to grow into a bad habit sooner or later. And you know very well that I don’t want you to get an addiction. Where the hell did you even get it? For fucks sake, it’s already bad enough that you’ve gone from 2 a week to 5 a week, it’s not healthy, y/n. You know that,” Doyoung rubbed his face with his palms, trying to calm himself down to keep himself from screaming his frustrations out. “It’s only a cigarette I got from Jamie Lee,” you huffed under your breath, looking down at your sock-covered feet.

Jamie Lee was one of the girls in your class who was quite infamous for bringing about scandals and terrible rumors as if they were handmade chocolates. If Doyoung wasn’t upset then, he sure is now. “Jamie Lee? You got a cigarette from fucking Jamie Lee?” he asked incredulously, removing his hand from his face to stare at you with wide rage-filled eyes. He was begging you to tell him that you were just joking, you were just pulling on his leg to ease the tension between you like you always do during arguments.

But no, you weren’t. The guilt in your eyes said it all.

“I’m going to give her a smack one day, dear god.” Doyoung groaned, pinching his nose to take a deep breath before continuing your argument that lasted until you decided to walk off to take a cig outside of your shared apartment at 2 am in the morning.

Doyoung stirred, his head hurt, and he wondered why he felt so tired despite the fact that he had just woken up. When he finally decided to open his eyes, pulling the blankets off of his body as he moved his feet off the bed. Yawning, he scratched the back of his head, hissing in pain when the pain in his head got worse.

‘It’s just a cigarette and I only did it once, Doyoung’

‘It’s just a cigarette and soon it’ll be ten, Y/n.’

He stood up from the bed, grimacing at the empty feeling in his chest as he made his way to the kitchen to get himself some water. Getting himself a cup of water, he stared hopelessly out of the window in front of him before walking over to the fridge, he scanned his eyes to see if he could make anything for breakfast with whatever condiments that are left. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he let out another yawn before grabbing a carton of eggs.

‘It’s only twice a week, so there’s not much of a chance’

‘It’ll make you sick, Y/n. There’s not much of a chance.’

He felt tears gather up in his eyes when the silence in his ears became too loud, the empty feeling in his heart turning into a feeling of pain and despair. He rubbed his eyes before walking over to the balcony, trying his best to ignore the aftermath of his hangover. Raising a hand to give his temple a massage, he grabbed a lighter from the table near the balcony door and pulled out a cigarette packet from one of the drawers.

Lighting it up quickly and taking a deep puff, sighing heavily as he exhaled the smoke, feeling the empty ache in his chest decrease as the bitter smoke overpowered the throbbing ache in his heart. He wiped his eyes as he tapped the ashes on the ashtray nearby, his pupils dilating when he realised he hasn’t cleaned it in a while.

‘It’s just a cigarette, I’m sorry that I did it.’

‘It’s just a cigarette, you’ll be sorry that you did it.’

It’s been a couple of weeks since you passed away from lung cancer. Doyoung couldn’t even be there to tell you ‘I told you so’. He blamed himself for not trying his best to stop you. He blamed himself for your death. If only he didn’t encourage you to try your first cigarette back then in highschool, maybe then you’d be too scared to try one from someone else’s encouragement. If only he tried hard enough, if only you weren’t so stubborn.

If only you had listened to him. Maybe then you would still be by his side watching him cook. Maybe then he wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony with a cigarette in one hand and alcohol in the other, maybe he wouldn’t be so sleep deprived. Maybe he wouldn’t be feeling such a wretched ache in his chest. Maybe then he wouldn’t try so hard to hate you for bringing him into another smoking addiction.

“Doyoung.”

“Honey, can’t you trust me? When I want to stop I can.”

#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct u x reader #doyoung x reader #kim doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #kim doyoung scenarios #doyoung angst #nct angst #nct 127 angst #nct doyoung x reader #nct 127 doyoung x reader #nct kim doyoung x reader

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writing-fool · 4 years ago

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mlqc | like it’s a bad thing pt. 1

I think these are ‘fighting’ scenarios, but I’m not 100% sure at this point. It’s like a ‘relationship on the cliffs’ thing. Pt. 1 for Victor and Shaw because I noticed these were getting a tad long. And they kind of carry the same theme, I guess. Wanted to include Lucien, but I ended up not being able to finish his for now...so if I make the next part, he’ll probably be on there.

I’m still working on a hp!au for Victor, but that may take a while since the inspiration doesn’t seem to be arriving anytime soon. It’s all been a bit tough, sorry. I say this all the time, but I apologise for the lack of fics; my writing pace’s been slow.

As always, enjoy the read!

Love,

Warning(s): slight angst, profanity, mention of mature content.

Victor

You love Victor. You really do. But sometimes, just sometimes you wonder why you put up with this man and his bullshit. A great downside to being involved both romantically and professionally is that those types of relationships tend to bleed into one another. This could be in the form of an office quickie...or something a lot less fun.

On the outside, Victor may seem put together, but you know him well enough by now that this month has been incredibly stressful for him. But so has it been for you. Safe to say, it’s been tense, even at home. Victor’s constant nagging about work performance and his snide comments at your so-called slacking off have pushed you to the breaking point, and you’re really not going to sit there and take it today.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying? LFG can’t move forward with your company if you continue working at this inefficient pace. You, as the head of a company, should know how to improve the quality and efficiency of your work.”

You sigh, not taking your eyes off of the laptop in front of you as Victor exasperatedly throws another one of your proposals on the coffee table. “I get it. Just give me some time.” You rub your temples, getting back to your own work.

“Do you? It doesn’t seem like you get the point here. You. Do. Not. Have. Time,” he harshly points out.

“You know you’re able to manipulate time, right?” You raise an eyebrow and look up at his unamused face.

“I can’t favour you like this. Did you really think I was going to stop time to solve your inefficiency problem? You can’t rely on others all the time. A company that can’t pull itself up is use—”

Something in you snaps at that very moment. “I get it. We’re useless, inefficient, and we’re so lucky LFG is even willing to support this failing company. I’m a useless boss, I can’t do anything right, I’m leeching off of my rich, CEO boyfriend to get ahead, I fucked my way to the top, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know,” you snarl, slamming your laptop shut with a resounding snap.

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.” Victor’s glaring now, sharp, stormy eyes boring into yours.

“Oh, do I?” you mimic his words, narrowing your eyes, “Because you sure don’t seem to tell me otherwise. I can’t read minds, Victor, and all I hear from your mouth are insults telling me how incapable I am as a boss. So pray tell, how am I supposed to think I deserve my job when not only the entire business world, but also my own fucking boyfriend tells me I don’t?”

Victor’s clearly taking aback by your sudden outburst, but his need to get his point across in this argument seems to win over the instinct to lighten your mood at this very moment. “First of all, I don’t know why you care what others say—”

“Because I’m human! Maybe you don’t think of people calling you names anymore because they’re lost in the sea of people literally grovelling at your feet, but I’m not you,” you rub your temples again, voice lowering as the mental exhaustion kicks in.

“I don’t know if I can live like this anymore. Fuck Victor, you make me feel like a failure and you just don’t seem to care.” You push past his stunned form and head to the bedroom.

“Sleep in your office if all you care about is work.” You glance back at him for the last time before slamming the bedroom door shut.

Victor messed up. Royally. He didn’t mean to take his stress and anger out on you and he definitely didn’t mean to act like your boss at home.

He’s been trying to get back to work for the past two hours while giving you some space, but the lingering guilt and worry in the back of his mind prevent him from actually doing anything productive. What if you really meant it? What if this is it? He can’t lose you just because he acted like an idiot. Victor’s always assumed you knew he cherished you more than anything in the world...but maybe he’s been neglecting you as a partner.

With a steel resolve to make it right, Victor leaves his home office and walks to your shared bedroom. The light from the hallway streams in as he opens the door, illuminating your sleeping figure. You’re curled in on yourself in a protective, almost guarded way, something you never do (you’re usually the kind of sleeper that has their limbs flopping everywhere on the bed). Victor feels a sharp pang in his heart at the notion of seeing you look this broken...because of him.

Gently, as to not wake you, he shuffles to the dresser, carefully taking off his shirt and folding it over a chair. After sufficiently (un)dressing himself, he slides under the sheets.

Victor tentatively reaches a hand over to touch your arm, only to feel you turn away from his touch. Instead of pulling his hand back, Victor brings his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

You’re awoken by the sudden movement, and in your sleepy state, you lean back into the warmth surrounding you.

Victor’s breath grazes your ear as he whispers. “I’m sorry.” Hm?

Your mind slowly registers that the warmth is, in fact, caused by Victor’s body heat, and more importantly, that you’re still very much upset with him. You struggle to get out of his grip, but that only seems to tighten the hold Victor has on you.

“Don’t. Stay with me,” he pleads, voice tinged with despair. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. You still your actions, instead opting to turn around to face Victor.

“I don’t know if this is what I want,” you speak up after a long moment of silence, “I love you, but I don’t want to be stuck in a relationship where I’m not welcomed.”

“Do you feel like you’re stuck here?” Victor asks.

You avoid his gaze. “I’m not sure. It’s not all your fault, but I do wonder whether you stopped caring about me sometimes. You’ve been so harsh to me, lately.”

“I didn’t, I never stopped caring,” Victor takes your hand in his left one, interlacing your fingers, “But I understand that I’ve made you feel insecure and uncared for. I never wanted to make you feel worthless, but I’ve gone too far this time, haven’t I?”

A mirthless chuckle escapes your mouth. “That’s an understatement,” you quip.

You expect Victor to retort back with something mean, revert to his distant self (at least, to the distant person he’s become this month), but instead, he gently cups your cheek with his right hand, raising your face up to look at him again.

A soft kiss is placed on your forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be less harsh, and I’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me. I’ll fix it all, your insecurities, your anxiousness. So give me one more chance, please. Let me fix it.” Victor’s beautiful grey eyes look into yours, sadness apparent on his face. You lie there for a long while, staring into his sombre eyes in silence.

“You’ll do anything?” you finally ask in curiosity. A resolute nod is your answer. “Even stop talking about work at home?” Victor nods again. You pause for a while, contemplating your next request. “...And take me to Souvenir and make me pudding every day?”

Victor snorts. “That’s the least I can do, dummy,” he chuckles lightly. Suddenly, his eyes widen. “I don’t mean you’re dumb. I just—”

Your soft giggle breaks his anxious ramble, and Victor feels like he’s just won the biggest prize at the lottery. “Just this is fine,” you whisper, “I thought it’d take longer for me to forgive you. But for some reason...I’m just happy to see your old self again.”

Victor sighs, pulling you closer. He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. “Dummy, don’t be so kind to me. I won’t know what to do,” he mumbles, relishing in the dark quiet of your bedroom. Truth is, he probably never knows what to do when it comes to you.

“You just have to love me, that’s all,” you pull your hand out of his, instead hooking your pinkies together, “No take-backsies.”

He rolls his eyes at your antics, a fond expression betraying the lack of annoyance behind the gesture. His pinky finger curls around yours ever so slightly, as if it’s desperate to hold onto yours. As if he’s desperate to hold onto you.

“No take-backsies.”

Shaw

“Not again,” you growl under your breath.

Shaw’s always been popular with the ladies, the gents, and the non-binary friends. Which is fine, it’s fine. You’re not a jealous person. You’ve dealt with people asking him out, people asking him if he was a celebrity and making you take pictures of him and some other person on a date, older ladies in your family groping him whenever you bring him to a family function (which really, isn’t about jealousy. You got mad, rightfully so, because they were harassing him). You can’t even remember how many times one of his campus students has confessed to him. With you right next to him at the table! Is it that unbelievable that I’m his significant other?

But too far is too far.

You walked into the fancy nightclub tonight, expecting to get a drink or two in your system, let loose with Shaw for a couple of hours, drag his drunk ass home and cuddle in bed. Not this.

The moment you walk in, you spot Shaw’s lavender coloured mop of hair sticking out over one of the booths. But he’s not alone, oh no. He’s surrounded by young men and women fawning over him like he’s some kind of celebrity or host club guest. And even though he looks a little bored, he’s not exactly bothered by the attention he’s getting. Because of course he isn’t. The moment his eyes land on you though, he looks you up and down appreciatively before shooting you a challenging smirk. He reaches over to a long-haired girl next to him, lazily fingering a lock of her hair. She looks up at him with a coy smile, but his amber eyes are fixed on yours, gauging your reaction. Oh, so he wants me to come over? Play the little jealous significant other? Hah! Not today, boy. I didn’t come here to play games.

You raise an eyebrow, a visibly annoyed expression showing on your face. Instead of heading in his direction, you strut to the bar, shoes tapping rhythmically on the floor. I look hot, I feel hot, and I need a fucking drink.

You order a bourbon on the rocks, gulping down a large sip of the beverage a soon as it gets to you. Bourbon is made to be savoured. You hear Victor’s voice resounding in your mind from the time he taught you how to judge alcohol for a production. So am I, but nobody’s been thinking of that, apparently. You turn around with a scowl, leaning against the bar. You feel horrible, and the fact that Shaw’s back to his childish antics isn’t making that any better. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. The flashing lights are blurry, but still noticeable through your closed eyelids. But what you don’t notice, is the man heading over to you from his side of the bar.

Shaw notices. How could he not? The moment you walked in the room, all he could see was you. And he knows he’s being a little shit, trying to make you jealous like that, but he can’t help wanting to play with you. It’s just a game of push and pull, and maybe he just wanted to see how hard you’d pull for him.

He didn’t expect you to react like that, though.

So here he is, so uncharacteristically walking (or strutting, because he is still sort of himself, after all) away from the admiring crowd of people around him and towards his clearly pissed off lover. And the man who’s clearly trying to chat you up.

“��buy you a drink?” he overhears. Shaw halts and watches the blinding spotlights in the club illuminate the sight in front of him.

He sees you lean closer to the man, foreheads almost touching in a conspiring way, before you shrug and the two of you turn to the bar. The man flags down the bartender, holding two fingers up. He’s just ordering two drinks for himself. That’s it.

His gait picks up again as he sees the bartender slide your favourite drink across the counter. Before you can even take a sip of bourbon, the textured glass is ripped out of your hand. Shaw downs the amber liquid, the burning sensation washing away the bitter taste of jealousy.

“Thanks for ordering me a drink, honey,” he emphasizes the pet name, grinning at you before turning his head to the man with a fierce glare. The man raises his hands in defense, shakes his head at you with a smile, and promptly heads back to the other side of the bar. Shaw turns to you, the grin slipping back on his face momentarily.

“Already cheating on me?” he asks, masking the slight hurt behind a teasing façade. Shaw plops down on the stool next to you, watching your face. You look slightly guilty at first, but then your expression morphs back into one of anger...and exhaustion. You aren’t actually cheating on me, are you?

“Funny thing for you to say,” you ground out.

“...So you were jealous.”

“That’s what you take from that?” You stare at him incredulously, his smug grin slowly sliding off of his face. I’m making it worse. Why did I make it worse?

“Jesus, you’re a prick,” you sigh, “No drink can fix this evening. I’m just going to go home. Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” You climb out of your seat, making a beeline for the exit. Shaw is quick to follow you outside, grabbing your wrist before you can flag down a cab.

“Let me go, Shaw.”

“Hey, hey, it was a joke. You know that, right?” His ears are ringing from the loud music back in the club, but the sudden quiet’s more deafening than any song booming from the speakers. It feels sad, and Shaw hates it.

“I said, let me go.” You’re refusing to look at him. Why is it turning out like this?

“It was a joke. If I let go, you’re going to leave. Don’t leave me,” the slight pleading of his voice makes you turn around to look at his face. He tentatively releases your wrist, and you make no move to leave...yet.

“I don’t want to play these games anymore.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Is it fun, to try and make me jealous? To remind me of the fact that I’m somehow not suited for you, that after this amount of time, I’m still not enough for you?” you poke a finger into his lithe chest, “Because guess what, you succeeded. I’m jealous. I admit it, you won.”

“I didn’t—And you took that guy’s offer for a drink! You’re not better!” Shaw suddenly raises his voice, his stance akin to that of a wolf on guard.

“I told him I had a boyfriend! And you know why he bought me a drink? Because he said I looked like I needed a pick me up. And you didn’t even notice! Even worse, you’re the fucking reason I needed one in the first place!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were going to throw a hissy fit over me hanging out with some friends?” he spits out.

“Friends? They were hanging onto you, Shaw! One of those girls had her tits so close to you, she almost suffocated you with them. And you know it,” a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “You love the attention. And we both know I was never enough to provide that for you. So I quit.”

Shaw deflates. “What do you mean, you quit?”

“I don’t want to be vying for your affection with the rest of them, I guess. It’s selfish of me, but somehow I thought I’d be special, or something,” you scoff, kicking a nearby rock of the pavement, “But I don’t think I am. Not to you. So I think we should stop all of this before one of us gets even more hurt. I think we should break up.”

Shaw halts, burying both of his hands in his hair. His breathing quickens as he processes your words. “No, no, absolutely not. We aren’t breaking up.” he looks at you with the same pleading eyes he used that time when he got sick and begged you to cuddle him instead of getting his medicine. Back then, everything seemed so...lovely.

“I don’t know what else to do, Shaw,” your voice breaks, and Shaw feels his heart shatter at the notion of you hurting this much. “I just don’t know why you do this, I—”

“Because I don’t deserve you.”

“What?” You shake your head in confusion.

“I know it’s fucked up. Everyone around us knew that I wasn’t deserving of you. Just look at me,” he gestures at himself, “I’m a fucking gangster dating someone who deserves better. So I tried pushing you away, and then you pulled back, and you fought for me. And I just don’t know how to deal with that, ‘cause people don’t do that for me.”

You sigh. “You deserve to be fought for.”

“I don’t. I really fucking don’t. Because here I am, with the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m about to lose them. And it should be what I want because I keep pushing and pushing and pushing, but now the only thing I want is you. I fucked up.”

You lean against a nearby wall, silence hanging above you two before you break it. “I...don’t think this dynamic is healthy,” you start.

“I know, I’m sorry. I fucked up, but I promise I’ll—”

“And if we’re going to try this again, you’re going to have to fix your attitude,” you interrupt him.

“I—you’re serious?” a careful nod has Shaw’s expression turning from dumbfounded to ecstatic. His grin’s back, but now it seems more...genuine. More innocent.

“Fuck. I can’t believe it,” he tilts his head up to the sky in glee, but soon looks back at you with resolution in his eyes, “I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh. “Is that a challenge, pretty boy?”

“You bet your ass it is,” he teases, swiftly scooping you up into his arms, “I fucking love you, and I’ll do anything I can to prove it,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“Shaw...I love you too, but people are really staring, actually.” You cast worried glances over his shoulder.

“Don’t care.”

“...Of course you don’t.”

Shaw’s scenario was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, to be fair. I think I made him pretty OOC, but I’m filling in a lot of the blanks in regards to his personality, and for some reason he has serious trauma and insecurities here, which is either kinda valid, or projecting. I don’t know if I’m satisfied with it...but it’s going I guess.

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc shaw #mlqc imagine #mr love #love and producer #victor li #shaw #mlqc scenarios #li zeyan #ling xiao #long live the queue

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atsunflower · 4 years ago

Text

Semi Eita x Reader

Rated: SFW — Angst, cursing, traffic accident, injury descriptions, slight mentions of anxiety and post traumatic stress.

Word count: 2070

Author notes: and here is the second part of our F.L.Y collab. I want to thank all the girls from Knights of the coconut and in particular, both @mooshua and @neonghxst who were pretty patient with me and helped me a lot throughout this process. You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough. I guess that's all. Please enjoy your reading!

F.L.Y Masterlist

If this can no longer resonate/ No longer make my heart vibrate/ Then like this may be how/ I die my first death

He felt suffocated as the breath hitched on his throat.

Staring at his hands, the male recalled how said limbs brought the best time of his life:

A setter position at Shiratorizawa Volleyball club.

A desk job at the public department.

A promise as a rising star along his band, under a label with a contract too good to be true.

Roaming through his memories, he remembers that every single one of his achievements were accompanied by lights:

The reflectors on the court.

The white lamps from his office.

The blinding lights from the stage.

Once had he everything he wanted. Now it was all out of his grasp — And lights, very similar to the last ones, now plagued his thoughts.

After all, he remembers when they blinded him before the car came crashing onto his body. Chills ran down his spine every time he recalled how the headlights of the vehicle were the last thing he saw before blacking out.

All it took was one second and then, a month at the hospital that turned into a lifetime of pain — it took only an accident for his life never be the same again.

"Maybe this is what they call first death" He muttered to himself, the words tasting bitter in his mouth as he took on his surroundings.

The constant tapping the secretary made on the keyboard left his nerves on edge and, added to the sterile scent hanging on the air, it felt like a reminder of the folder that sat heavy on his lap. In addition, the curious, pitying, eyes trained to his figure did nothing to soothe his anxiety.

Well, it's not everyday you see a rockstar sitting in a clinic waiting room, after he almost died, the man mused in distaste.

"Semi Eita?" The voice called from the door across the lounge. There, a male stood eyeing him as he made his way to the office.

The room was spacious, with a desk, cabinets, a stretcher and some anatomic models. A typical physiotherapist office, he guessed — not like Semi had ever been into one before, though.

"Make yourself comfortable, Semi-san" The brunette said as he organized some papers on the desk surface "I see it's your first time here. I'm Ennoshita Chikara, the physiotherapist who will take care of your condition from now on" They both shook hands as Semi sat on the chair. He cursed internally as he felt no force on his right hand.

"So, what brings you here today, Semi-san?" Ennoshita asked, eyeing Semi's right hand.

The grey haired male gulped before handing the folder to the physiotherapist.

"Here, this is the medical report. Shirabu-sensei made sure to specify everything regarding my hand." The brunette hummed before taking it. Semi couldn't muster up the courage to talk about his condition.

"I know, Semi-san. But I need to hear it for the history taking and you may know acceptance can help you through the recovery process" The apologetic tone made him sick.

"I don't want to talk about it. Could you please just proceed with the therapy?"

"Look, I know it's a sensitive topic but—" The therapist was interrupted mid sentence when Semi stood. The chair screeched on the floor at the sudden movement before the male tried to snatch the folder from the other.

Tried.

The paper sheets scattered on the floor, since he couldn't take a proper grip on them.

Tears of frustration welled up on his eyes, as he murmured a meek apology only to storm out of the place.

Semi Eita felt the pitying eyes following him all the way back to his house.

At home, he felt in peace.

No sympathetic gazes and no condescending words. Just him alone with his own demons.

I need a bath. And a beer, the gray haired man decided as the weak hand carded through his hair locks. He flinched at the touch, feeling how dull it was — tactless, even. Just a bundle of flesh and bones hanging from his wrist. Nothing like it used to be.

Ignoring the pang on his chest, the man walked through the corridor. By his left, he saw a shining glass door and immediately, a sensation of longing crawled up his spine and clawed at his heart. He opened the tinted surface, entering the room.

The music studio was the same way he left on the accident day: the gray hoodie thrown over the chair, the paper cups of coffee scattered over his desk and the Moleskine with the lyrics he wrote that night. They resembled three months of hard work and the whole place, a sanctuary built of his dreams.

Too bad the room now felt like his own private purgatory.

Running his index finger over the notebook's leathery spine, memories invaded his mind. Regret gnawed on him even though he wasn't at fault — well, who would have predicted that going to get cigarettes late at the night would end up in a near-death experience? Who would've guessed that, on the way back to his condo, a drunk fucker would hit him with his car and vanish from the scene, without calling an ambulance?

If the medical help came sooner, would things be different? He often wondered, even though he knew it couldn't be helped. His friend, doctor Shirabu, said the damage on his arm was too extensive with a chance of recovery little to nonexistent. His heart stopped beating when he heard those words.

Looking back at it, Semi Eita regretted getting out of his house for such a trivial thing. Before, the musician had his dreams to push him through. Now, all he had left was a medical report — written in a horrendous handwriting, if he may add — stating that patient Semi Eita suffered a minor brain damage and multiple broken bones that caused a lower motor neuron syndrome with wallerian degeneration on the median nerve of his right arm — he didn't understand a shit about the medical terms, but he knew it was bad. Well, it's not like paralysed fingers in the form of 'the hand of benediction' could be a good outcome of an accident.

Benediction? More like a curse, he scowled.

Snapping out of his internal turmoil, brown orbs wandered over the music studio, eyeing all his equipment, as the man drowned on the nostalgic feeling.

On the far corner of the room, white tiles smiled at him — Though, it wasn't a sign of sympathy: in the far corner of the room, the black piano was smiling in mockery, as if it laughed at him, knowing his condition.

You'll never play again, The piano said

"I know!" He retorted.

Your career is dead, the piano chanted.

"I know!"

So pitiful, it snickered — and that was the last straw before despair washed through his body.

Semi spotted the electric guitar by his left. Grabbing the instrument by its neck, he threw it at the other. The wooden body crashed onto the keyboard, the ivory keys agonized at the violence.

Not that he cared, though. He was hurting a lot more than the piano did.

And the tears running down his face were proof enough of it.

Absorbed in his self-conscious state, he didn't see you entering the room, eyes roaming over the mess he made.

"Oh my, Eita!" And his body crashed into yours, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Eita, love" You said softly, testing the waters.

"Get out" He pleaded weakly, both of you still slumped over the carpet of his studio. Your boyfriend stopped crying long ago, but sorrow still covered his face.

The sight was heartbreaking.

"You know I won't" You said, holding him tighter.

"[Name], get the fuck out!" He said an octave louder, pushing you away "The last thing I want now is your pity. And I don't want you to see me like this, either" Ever the proud man he was, hatred laced his voice — and even though you knew it wasn't directed at you and that he didn't mean it, it still hurted.

"I won't leave you. And I don't pity you" You sincerely stated.

"So why the fuck you're looking at me like this?" Hazel irises squinted at you, the hands clutching your shoulder tightened their grip — the hold on your right felt a lot more stronger.

"I'm worried" And then, he laughed.

Hysterically.

Almost scaringly.

"Why waste your time, huh?" You tried to retort, he beated you to it.

"Why bother with a failure for a boyfriend, hm?"

"Eita"

"What's left to you, huh? I bet you're leaving me now that my fucking career went downhill and I won't be famous anymore" The venom of his words scorched your ears.

Throwing insults at you, Semi didn't measure his words and nor did you measure your actions. A second after, all the two of you felt was the stinging flesh.

Of your hand.

Of his cheek.

"So you'll just sit here and cry?" You grabbed him by the collar, eyes boring into his "Shirabu himself said there was a chance. Are you giving up this easily?"

"Shirabu said there was a slight chance" He corrected you, saliva was sprayed over your skin when he screamed at your face.

"And you'll just take it, giving up without a try?" You were so done. The Semi you knew wasn't a spineless man who gave up so easily.

"You don't know how it feels!" He cracked again, the cry went past his mouth, wavering on the air. Your features softened as your hands moved upwards, cradling his face.

"I don't" The words came ragged "But please, don't give up without pulling out a good fight. You're not acting like yourself"

"It's just so hard. You don't get how empty I feel" The man before you was nothing like your Eita.

"For fuck's sake, Eita. Try the surgery and if it doesn't work, wait for the physical therapy results. If it still doesn't work, learn to play with the other hand, goddammit" You leaned onto him, joining your foreheads "Just don't give up. Back to our Shiratorizawa years, you said you wanted to rely on your own strength to show you abilities, because you desire to do things were always too strong. You prided yourself for being free when showing off, then why are you letting this situation hold you down?"

"It's hard. It's like I'm dying, but feels much more worse than that" Words came in a whisper, still reluctant to consider the options.

"But did you die? Did your talent die?" You lightly shook his body, trying to infuse some energy into it "Did you, all of sudden, forget how to make music?" And he saw determination painted in the hue of your irises.

"But—" He tried to argue.

"No buts, even if you can't play in the band, you can still be a producer. Don't let life reap your art away from you" You pleaded, hoping your words could somehow touch him.

Peeking into his face, you observed its features softening as you felt his muscles relaxing under your palms and your boyfriend reciprocating your loving touches.

Your heart was finally at ease.

"How come you always know what to say in the right time, even if it's cliché as fuck?" Eyelids covered the orbs you loved so much as the words were spoken in a serene mode.

Semi Eita felt peace.

You tucked the broader body inside of your arms, caressing the lean muscles of his shoulders.

"There's a reason why, other than my pretty face, I'm your muse" He playfully scoffed at you, tightening the hold on your waist.

"Who said you are?" You ignored his words, paying attention to the hair locks under your chin "[Name]?" He started uncertain.

"Hm?"

"You're right. Guess if I didn't die in the accident, it's only fair if I don't let my life as an artist go away either" His soft-spoken words meant everything to you.

Relief washed over you as your heartbeat increased in your chest. But the most important was how you could feel Semi's heart beating again.

I'm in my workroom, it's my studio/ The waves go darkly by in a throe/ But I'll never get dragged away again

Taglist: @anseoo @keiijiis @inarizakikoukou @deerixiie @bristil @maramalademadara @thedreadthreadanomaly @catharsisbabey @aprettyfruit @ttsukii @chasekudo @kenmashoe @daijoubuyuki @krusty-cheetahs @ohmythatmiya

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phairfantooooom · 5 years ago

Text

Angsty Headcanons That Nobody Asked For

In which you fail. And you die to Belphie. Permanently.

Mammon

He was in denial and refused to believe what his heart was telling him

He was the first to discover you, he is the fastest of the brothers after all

He had raced up the stairs and didn’t even notice Belphie was even there when he barged into the room

When he saw your crumbled body laying on the floor in the attic something in him snapped.

He didn’t even realize he was crying as he clutched you to him. Quietly muttering to himself he begged, he pleaded, for you to wake up. You could yell and scream and insult him for ever agreeing to let you go do this alone but just please wake up.

“You weren’t suppose’d to leave me! You promised…. please…. please just open your eyes…”

When Mammon sees Belphie finally, he connects the dots quickly, as he remembered how Belphie felt toward humans.

“You. You did this didn’t you? You killed them.”

Anger and rage would fill him. And he would welcome it, he’d rather see red than see you not breathing

It’s only when Lucifer comes and stops him that the blinding anger begins to fade. And he hates it.

Mammon would refuse to accept your death and would try to figure out a way to get you back. It’s only when Lucifer sits him down much later on and has a serious talk with him that he finally gives up. It’s not a pretty scene. Lucifer’s heart breaks a bit when he sees just how much Mammon is suffering because of this.

It takes several sessions of talking before Mammon begins to even vaguely resemble his former self

He hoards the stuff from your room and keeps a picture of you in his wallet so that he can at least have a part of you with him always.

In the end he doesn’t truly recover from your death but will pretend he is okay to keep his brothers from worrying

Leviathan

Was eerily quiet when he saw you laying all too still on the floor

A part of him had clung to the small hope that you could be saved if he got to you fast enough

Memories of all the times he saw you smile and enjoy spending time with him flooded his head and his chest shuddered as a silent wave of despair flooded him

He’d never get to play or spend time with you anymore. He’d never get to watch those romance animes with you. He’d… he’d never…he’d never get to confess

“.....Dammit…. Dammit…”

When he learns that Belphie killed you his feelings toward him become icy.

“You… you killed the human… I hate you. I. Hate. You. You took away the bright stars in my dark night sky. You killed the person I loved!”

He would mourn alone for the most part. Anything you ever gave him will become a treasure that nobody, not even his brothers, would be allowed to touch

Becomes even more of a recluse and eventually stops having pets as they only remind him of when you and him raised one of the fish in his aquarium.

He struggles to get excited about things he would normally enjoy. Ruri-Chan has started to collect dust. His Mononoke Land account hasn’t been touched in months. He no longer goes out for idol concerts.

Time feels so slow and yet so fast. Days turn into weeks and weeks into months. Everyone else begins to recover and he just can’t. He can’t let go of you. You who showed him that little things in life can make him happy, and gave him confidence to pursue coding.

You left a hole in his heart that can’t be filled.

He doesn’t play games alot anymore, but has instead spent his time slowly starting to build an AI via his knowledge of coding. Anyone who sees it knows it’s supposed to be you, but nobody is brave enough to call him out on it.

Will sometimes cry himself to sleep while clinging onto your old uniforms and clothes, wishing desperately that you would come back to his side. To wake him up from this horrible nightmare.

Beel

Guilt.

So much guilt.

When he finds out what happened he actually struggled to get mad at Lucifer for containing Belphie.

After seeing you pale and lifeless, it was the first time he had ever felt his hunger vanish. In a way it was worse, as what replaced the hungry was a heart wrenching feeling like no other. He had no injuries but yet it felt as if someone had shoved a hot poker into his heart.

When Belphie gives him the whole “All Humans suck speech” and tries to laugh it off, Beel loses it.

“She wasn’t like them!”

Even as you grew cold in his arms he had gently stroked the top of your head and whispered a sorrow filled farwell into your ear.

Over the course of the coming weeks he would move into your room. Partially because he wanted to be closer to you and partially because he couldn’t stand to be near Belphie.

He does his best to keep your room clean and tidy, while not moving your things out of place. It looks as if you had never left, almost to the point that sometimes he can easily imagine you opening the door and resuming your life here in the Devildom.

His appetite never truly came back, his love of food diminishing as he would remember all the times you and him would cook together. Or when you would treat each other to Hell’s Kitchen.

He visits where you were buried once every two weeks, so he can replace the Lilys he leaves on your grave

Satan

Ahhh.

Very angry. And gets extremely close to killing Belphie. It’s only through Lucifer’s and Beel’s joined effort that they are able to calm him down to a civil level.

“You bastard of a brother! What the hell have you done?!”

His temper flares constantly at the very mention of Belphie.

He researches night and day to find a way to get you back. No matter the cost, no matter what he needed to do.

It’s only when Lucifer quietly asks him “Do you really think the human would want you to sacrifice everything just to bring them back?” that his resolve begins to crack.

Of course he knew you wouldn’t want to see him like this. But you had no idea how much it hurt to not have you there.

Every moment you're not there by his side is another moment he has failed you.

Eventually he breaks down due to fatigue and he just cries. He’s frustrated because nothing was working. He’s frustrated that everything is a dead end. He is frustrated that you aren’t by his side.

He just…. he wants to see your smile. He wants to see that soft look you get when you hold kittens. He wants to be able to hold you again….

Eventually He gets a small therapy kitten and he names it after you when he notices that it shares the same color of your eyes.

He vents out his pain in writing, and he writes in as much detail as he can of what he remembers of all the times he spent with you

He wants to make sure, above all else, that your memory thrives even if you aren’t by his side

Asmodus

Gets very pissy with Belphie

Reasonably so

Doesn’t realize what he is feeling is heartbreak, as he has never lost someone like this before

He misses you dearly, and oftentimes will use perfumes or cologne that reminds him of you

Unintentionally finds himself often reminiscing about you for weeks

One day he sees someone that vaguely looks like you and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

Immediately starts putting the moves on them but quickly realizes the differences between you and them.

The difference in pitch in their voice, the way they walk, the way that their eyes are a different color, the way they laugh. The more he observes the more he asks himself why he ever thought it was you.

He finds himself distraught. This had never happened before when any of his partners left him…. Something had to be done about this.

Attempts to banish you from his mind and goes clubbing.

His plan fails miserably.

Under the dim lights and thudding of the music he almost feels haunted by you, it was almost too easy for him to imagine you sitting and waving at him from the bar with that soft smile on your face.

He gets drunk. Veryyyyy drunk.

When he gets home he ends up just going to Belphie and venting his frustrations.

“This is your fault! Do you have ANY idea how much your actions have hurt ME?!”

Before things could escalate, Lucifer comes and defuses it

After this Amso doesn’t go out socializing anymore. He feels awful everytime he does since you're not with him. And he swears that sometimes he sees you out under the glimmering lights and it reminds him of what he has lost.

He hoards all of the pictures of you he has, and when he has a bad day he goes through them one at a time.

“Even if you are no longer by my side, I will treasure you always.”

Belphie

Mr. Killer himself.

Could not give less than two shits about who you were and what you hoped to achieve

He would have kicked your corpse an extra time if he had known that you’d made Beel care about you.

When the brothers found him he had at least thought Beel, HIS TWIN, would side with him. But nooooo. Because of your meddling you had made him seem like a monster.

“Stupid human, you had no right to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.”

Didn’t understand why the other brothers held you in such high regard, and didn’t care to learn why

Until one day when he was in the House of Lamentation by himself

Everyone had been invited to a Gala at the Castle. Each of the brothers had been personally invited by Diavolo. Save for him, who was under house arrest for his actions.

Boredom struck and he found himself wandering around the house looking for something to do when he strolled past your room.

When the brothers were home they never allowed him to go in. They feared that he would destroy your belongings, and they would lose the last remaining things that were proof of your existence here in the Devildom.

Smirking to himself he made his way inside without a care in the world. Sure the other brothers may have cared for you, but he sure as hell didn’t.

He snooped around your room for a bit before sitting down at your desk.

“How boring…. don’t you have any secrets in here…?”

As if granting his wish he saw a leather bound notebook sitting behind a bunch of Devildom Law textbooks.

Quickly reading through the contents of the smaller book he realized that it was a Journal.

Completely filled with your private thoughts.

Believing he had struck gold he took the Journal back with him to his room and lazily sprawled out on his bed. All he had to do was just dig up whatever disgusting trash you were hiding and then he would be once more in everyone’s good graces. After all it’s not as if some stupid humans privacy matters to him.

And so he read.

And read.

He firmly believed that you had to have been hiding something, some dreadful secret. But the more he read, the more he began to have this strange feeling in his gut.

Your entries were normal, er well normal of a student going to a school full of demons, and occasionally you had placed photographs of some of the events you talked about.

One of them was a TSL competition with Levi. Another was a selfie of you and Beel at Hell’s Kitchen. There was a keychain stuck between two pages from a trip with Mammon, Satan, and Lucifer to London. There was even a candid shot of a pillow fight with Diavolo and Asmo.

Forgetting that this was your life written in ink, he read more and more about the lives his brothers had led in his absence.

It wasn’t until he laughed at something you wrote that he realized how comfortable he had gotten with the idea of you.

He nearly trashed the Journal after he realized that.

But…. something stopped him.

A while later he’d resume reading. Curious about your adventures… and…

He wanted to know what you thought about him.

Before long he found the entry where you had written about him and he felt his breath hitch.

Why did your opinion of him matter so much?

His fingers touched the inked lines and his jaw clenched as he read the last entry.

You had trusted him.

You who had held no prejudice against demons had trusted him wholeheartedly.

And what had he done?

He had killed you, without a second thought.

He had even enjoyed it.

The dam he didn’t know he had been hiding behind broke, and all the regret he had been burying since he had started reading your Journal had suddenly rushed to the surface.

He hadn’t noticed he had been crying until he saw the wet blots hit the paper and smudge your words.

“I…. what have I done…. I’m so sorry….”

Lucifer

The calmest of the brothers

Outwardly, at least

Internally he wanted to rip out Belphies throat because how dare he

Doesn’t express how much it hurts to have lost you, he needs to be strong. Both for himself and for his brothers.

The tragedy of being the eldest is that he was the role model. His actions would reflect on himself and his brothers. So his reactions are more forced rather than natural.

Diavolo often tries to coax Lucifer into opening up about it but fails everytime.

“If you really cared, you would bring her back, Lord Diavolo.”

Tension between Diavolo and Lucifer gets… bad. The anger and growing resentment toward the heir of the throne only got worse with time, and eventually Lucifer stepped down from his position with Satan taking his place.

He often goes to your old room and locks himself inside, thinking to himself. The brothers are actually a bit nervous every time this happens because they expect that this time Lucifer will finally snap and they will have to deal with an enraged Avatar of Pride. But it never does so it relieves them and makes them stressed at the same time.

But eventually...

It happens

Diavolo comes by to collect the remains of your belongings, with the intent of sending them back to the human world, to your family and friends

Lucifer sees him collecting your stuff and he fucking snaps

“If you value your life you will cease this at once.”

Before Diavolo can summon Barbatos to his side, Lucifer had managed to grab the prince by the throat. His form had changed to that of his demon self, and his eyes were mad from grief and anger.

There is a brief moment of struggle on Diavolo’s behalf followed by Lucifer leaning uncomfortably close with an aura of unbridled fury.

“You will bring her back, I know you are able to. And you will. Why? Because if you don’t I will rampage through this kingdom of yours until there is nothing but ashes left in my wake.”

#Obey Me #Obey Me Headcanon #Obey Me Lucifer #Obey Me Mammon #Obey Me Leviathan #Obey Me Beel #Obey Me Asmodus #Obey Me Satan #Obey Me Belphie #no beta we die like men

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httpbread · 5 years ago

Note

I love your writing so much! Ahhh I’m new to the fandom and binged everything, but anyway ANGST TIME! Kindly requesting Hanako comforting reader who’s crying their eyes out and needs some tender love and care

Pairing: Hanako x reader

Words: 1743

thank you!! sorry it’s been taking me so long to work through requests ;; i will get to them! just been dealing with a bit of writer’s block and my own folly

---

When Hanako enters the third-floor girl’s bathroom after an errand he expected the same old boring quiet bathroom.

He expected the sunshine shining brightly through the window, staining the room too many colors to even put into words. The stalls empty. The room filled with peace and cheap smelling febreeze, just the way he left it.

He was not expecting the sound of the sink running, or (Y/n) hovering over it, looking up as he held the door open, their face a rosy mess of tears, snot, and despair, letting out a harsh hiccup.

Silence found them, Hanako unable to even speak and (Y/n) looking too choked up to.

He’d never seen them cry before, and he sure as hell had never seen them look like they’d had three breakdowns in a row.

“(Y/n)...? Are you okay?” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He’s not sure how to deal with this.

(Y/n) was always so bright and smiley. Seeing them so... emotional, all of the sudden... it was jarring.

Not to mention his lack of experience with tears.

“Y-Yeah,” they sniffle harshly, reaching forward and twisting the sink off. They then turn to him, plastering a big smile on their lips, “Never better!”

Their words greatly contrast with the way their big (e/c) puffy eyes water.

He frowns at this.

“(Y/n)...”

Only to watch as their lower lip trembles.

Before they’re promptly ducking down, burying their face in a tangle of their thrown up arms, making Hanako jolt straight as a board when they wail, the raw distraught in their voice shaking him right up, “No! I’m not okay!”

He hastily moves forward, their panic infecting him, “Hey! Hey! Easy!”

He lifts his hands, despite his nervousness, reaching for them, though not quite sure what he’s going to do. All he knows is he wants them to stop crying!

“No! Not easy!” They blubber, hunching over a little more, like they’re trying to disappear, “I’m going to fail! I’m never going to college! A-and then- this class- I-“

“Slow down!” He pleads, relenting to set his hands on their shoulders, “(Y/n), you’re freaking out-“

“Of course I am!” They untangle from their arms, brushing off his hands to look up at him, face full of wide-eyed woebegone, “My life is falling apart, Hanako- a-and I don’t know what to do- and-“

Silence fills the bathroom.

In Hanako’s defense, he didn’t know how else to get them to stop talking.

“One step at a time, (Y/n),” he tells them, keeping his voice gentle, “I don’t know what’s got you all riled up, but let’s shove all that aside right now, okay?”

Their tears are seeping down onto his hand, the one he has over their mouth, which they hum into miserably.

“Focus, (Y/n),” he mumbles, promptly removing his hand, “Just work on calming down right now. The world can wait.”

But as they go to protest- and he knows they are, judging by the frantic look that finds their eyes- he only pulls them to his chest, burying their messy face in his uniform.

They let out a muffled whimper, cursing him, but Hanako only holds them tighter, praying it’ll help somehow.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides lightly, to hide his unsureness, “You’re not getting out of this hug until you stop crying.”

He blinks, running his fingers through their (h/l) (h/c) locks.

There are definitely more pressing worries, but he can’t help but gawk at how soft their hair is.

Indulging, he continues to stroke his fingers through their silky strands, keeping his other arm wrapped firmly around them.

Their arms hung limp at their side, as they leaned reluctantly into him, now burying their face into his chest by choice.

He smiles a little.

Even when they were so wound up, they were such a cute little thing.

Hanako isn’t sure how long they stand there, him squeezing them tight in his arms, but eventually, they lift their head.

“I’m not crying anymore...”

“Really?” He comments, hoping a tease would get them out of their rough, “You look like a mess.”

Their lower lip trembles.

“W-Wait! No! It’s a good look!” He hastily amends.

But they’re shoving him away, “You’re a jerk, Hanako-kun.”

He’s moving right back with them, though, lifting a hand to cup their cheek.

“Maybe, but you’re still burning up...” he mumbles, brows drawing as he moves his hand to their forehead, “Come on.”

He makes his way back over the sink they’d been at when he first walked in, turning the tap on.

“I- uhm. I think I might just...” he hears them sigh as he gathers a handful of paper towels, pulling them out one by one to wad them in a big ball, “I want to go home...”

It wasn’t like them to skip class like this. It only served to worry Hanako further.

“Ah, well, life isn’t fair,” he covers up his concern with a sing-song tone, “Now, take a seat, (Y/n).”

“Huh?” Their brows knit, looking up at him.

He gestures to the sink next to the one he had running, “Sit.”

They scratch their head.

He amends, “I’m not asking.”

This makes them let out another heavy sigh.

“You’re so mean...” they grumble, making their way over, “Why couldn’t I have run into Ne-chan instead?”

“What? You don’t think I make a handsome caregiver?” He smirks, wetting the wad of paper towels under the running sink as they do as asked.

“No. I think you’re a jerk,” they argue, voice still a little scratchy, “You suck at this.”

At their petulance, he promptly shoved the icy paper towel wad against their forehead.

They squeak, immediately pressing back against the mirror behind them, away from his help.

“Case in point!” They declare with a big frown.

Hanako only snickers, dropping a hand on the sink they sit on as he leans forward over them, reaching their face with ease, “Just relax, won’t you?”

This time, he very gently pressed the wet wad of towels against their face.

It scrunches their nose up for only a second, but as he slowly brushed it across their burning forehead, their lashes sink down against their cheeks.

He swallows his nerves, trailing the paper towel ball down their left temple to run it over their cheek.

As he runs the wad across the bride of their cheek to their nose, over to the other side of their face, they let out a soft breath, only slightly shaky.

“Does that feel better?” He mumbles to them, delicately brushing their other cheek with the cold water too.

They swallow before responding quietly, “Yeah...”

He runs it up to their right temple before back across their forehead, which he delighted to find has cooled significantly.

As he goes to ask if that was good enough, they speak.

“I bombed the chapter test in math.”

He pulls the makeshift rag away to blink at them.

They look up at him, and he swears it’s like looking at a kicked puppy, the way their sad (e/c) eyes shine at him.

“I got a thirty-three on it, Hanako-kun,” they tell him, lower lip pouting, “A thirty-three.”

“The one we studied for...?” He utters.

They nod, looking down.

“W-Well... we studied for the wrong one...”

He tries to repress the smile that threatens his lips. He couldn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny to (Y/n) right now. They were too troubled to laugh.

“I’m sorry, (N/n)-chan, but it’s going to be okay,” he sets the wad of wet paper towels down on the other as he reassures them, “One test isn’t the end of the world, y’know?”

“But what if it is?” They whisper hastily, “It’s the butterfly effect, Hanako! I failed this test, I’ll fail math class next, and then I’ll drop out, and-“

“- and all of that is the biggest lie I’ve heard all week,” he takes his place back before them, drawing their smaller hands into his own.

They look down at him, still miserable as can be.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, (Y/n),” he offers her a soft smile, “You’re always giving your best to everything you do. You’re trying so much.”

“Yeah, and I failed,” they remind him, brows pulling together.

“But you tried,” he counters, “That’s all that matters.”

“No, it’s not,” they argue, trying to pull their hands away to, most definitely, gesture at him exasperatedly, “Hanako, I’m going to fail math. There are so many other things that matter!”

He only squeezes their hands, holding them snugger, “Even if you do fail math, it’ll be okay. You’ll brush all this off in no time!”

They stare at him like he’s grown three heads.

He leans forward, nearly brushing noses with them as he smiles.

“C’mon. Lighten up,” he pleads, “I promise you this stupid math class won’t last forever. You’ll be done with it before you can blink.”

He then adds, trying to wrangle a smile out of them, “You’ll be able to forget all these dumb equations in just a couple months. They’ll never hurt you again.”

Hanako’s hands slip out of theirs, bringing them up to cup their face in his as he closes his eyes, pulling their forehead against his.

They don’t respond, but he feels them lean back against them.

Before their arms slowly snake around his neck, pulling him a little closer.

He can’t help his smile.

“You really think so...?”

He blinks his eyes back open to meet their pleading eyes.

Hanako warmly brushes his thumb across their cheek.

“I know so.”

He then tells them firmly.

“Because we’re going to crush your next test!” He declares, pulling away to throw his fists in the air, “Even if I have to get that rotten Teru himself to come mentor you!”

(Y/n) looks up at him owlishly at his words.

Before...

A small grin cracks, breaking out across their lovely lips.

“I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Hanako smirks, sticking his tongue out at them.

“Well, we’ll make sure you at least get higher than a thirty-three this time.”

Instantly, their face lights up with offense.

“Hanako-kun!”

But getting whacked upside the head is more than worth it though, listening to the return of their ever-bright laughter filling the restroom again, easily melting away all his concerns and his heart in the process.

#hanako x reader #tbhk #tbhk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #jshk #jshk x reader #amane yugi x reader #breadkinswrites

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teddy-bear-surprise · 4 years ago

Text

Prologue

A short introduction to: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

Hurley stood over Mitch with his eyebrows furrowed. "Rapp, listen to me kid. I can't keep helping you out like this, you need to make a choice and quick. They're on my ass about your stupid fucking behavior in Thailand."

"Oh come on, Hurley, you know that situation wasn't my fault. It would've been even worse if I hadn't been there!" He pleaded with Hurley, insisting for the hundredth time that day that his actions on the last mission had been unavoidable. "Do I? Do I know that? Because those four collapsed buildings and seven video cameras with your face all over them would say otherwise, Rapp." Mitch stood up now, his face growing red as the vein in his neck protruded slightly. "You weren't there... Sir. You didn't see what was going on. There was no other option, I couldn't get to the guy in time and he was wearing the fucking bomb, Hurley. What else did you expect me to do?" "I don't fucking know, Rapp, but they're pinning this on you so now you have to choose. And if you don't choose you're done for good." He paused, "I know you don't want that and I sure as hell don't either, you're one of my best damn recruits." Hurley rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to think of what to say next. Mitch banged his fist against the cold, grey wall. "Couldn't they give me some better options? I mean seriously, I either an eight-month suspension or go undercover for a year? Jeez, Hurley. I know the Agency is already prepared to send me undercover but I don't want to do undercover and I sure as hell am not letting you suspend me." The door opened behind them as Stansfield walked in. As if his position as the CIA's Director didn't already give him enough power, his perfect posture and perfectly kept suit-and-tie made him even more intimidating. "Rapp, buddy, Hurley over here tells me you're giving him a tough time. You went rogue, okay? This is what happens when you go rogue, you're not giving either of us much of a choice here." He patted Mitch on the back as he shook Hurley's hand. "I did not go 'rogue'. I did my job, Director." The Director ignored him, moving on with what was most likely a pre-rehearsed speech to convince Mitch to fold. "Look, you already know that you've got two options. You get an eight-month suspension, which will put you on complete and total lockdown. No going to the grocery store, no running in the park, no eating out. Nothing. Or, you can take the open position in the Undercover Division. Cooper is out for the year on 'paternal leave', whatever the hell that means, so we need someone to fill in. We can't have you working in Orion for now, you're a liability, but we also don't want to lose you. So, give me a straight answer, Rapp. It's up to you." Mitch sat back down, burying his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark brown strands, and muttered quietly. "Fine. I'll take the job." "I'm sorry, what was that?" Hurley jokingly tapped a finger against his ear as he let out a deep chuckle. "But! Only if I get to go overseas. I don't want to have to deal with any of those useless, domestic undercover operations that end up helping no one." Hurley looked at Mitch, "I knew you couldn't say no." "Yeah, yeah, so what's the job?" "What makes you think we've already got a job for you?" Hurley was still poking fun at Mitch. "I know you, Hurley, you wouldn't push for it if you didn't know I would actually be working." "Well, you're right. We do have a case for you, Hurley and Bennett will brief you in a few minutes. Welcome back to the Agency... Officially." The Director approached Mitch with his hand outstretched, waiting for him to shake it. Mitch shook his hand hesitantly, wondering what kind of operation they'd be sticking him on, and hoped that this wasn't just some elaborate scheme to babysit him from within the Agency. The Director quickly left and Hurley sat down in the chair next to Mitch, tapping his fingers against his thighs impatiently. Hurley turned his head to face Mitch. "See? This isn't so bad. You still get to work and you get to travel.

"You know it's not, but it is better than a suspension." Mitch rolled his eyes lightly. "Hey, you know what I just realized? You're actually perfect for this job. Didn't you get a minor in French? I'm almost sure I saw that before I burned your nasty excuse of a resume." "Gee, thanks, Hurley. Yeah, I got a major in International Business and minored in French. Why exactly is this important?" He paused for a second as Hurley let him think. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. France? Really? That's probably going to be just as boring, if not more boring, than a domestic case." "Stop that, Mitch, just wait until you're briefed and you might even like the case. Plus, I can't believe you're judging this case for being boring when you're the domesticated dumbass who dropped out of your last year of training at the Academy just to be with Maureen." Hurley waved his arms around jokingly, mimicking a despaired Mitch. "'Ahhhh. She was so scared. Blah blah blah. She didn't want me to get hurt.' Can't believe you ever gave up this life for a chick... and a dead one at that." "Can we not talk about Maureen? Please?" Mitch slumped in his seat, still haunted by the wounds that never seemed to heal. "Fine, Agent Cry Baby. I mean you lost your lacrosse scholarship for that position in the FBI and you still threw it away for her. I don't know, I'm just shocked is all." He clenched his fists and spoke slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "I know. I get it, Hurley. You've made your point now drop it. And where the hell is Bennett with the briefing?" Almost as soon as Mitch had voiced his complaint, Agent Bennett walked in with a laptop and two paper files in hand. "Hurley, Rapp. Are we ready here?" "Yeah, whatever, get on with it Bennett." Hurley waved his hand dismissively at the young agent who was struggling to connect his laptop to the television in front of them. Bennett was finally able to put his presentation up on the screen. "Okay, Agent Rapp, you leave in a week and a half and when you arrive in Paris, you will be meeting up with Agent Russo, or as he is known to the Celestins, Axel Didier. Try not to blow his cover, please. He's the only person we've ever managed to get into the Celestins' inner circle and he's also the only one who can get you in." "The who's?" Mitch looked up at Bennett and his presentation with confusion. "The Celestins. France's biggest mafia family. Originally from Italy, they changed their names to assimilate to Parisian norms over seventy years ago. Since then, they've managed to infiltrate every aspect of life possible, ranging from politics to agriculture, and no one has ever come close to stopping them. Your job, Rapp, is to infiltrate that same inner circle and gather intel so that we might have a real shot at taking them down. Nothing more, Rapp. I know it's not what you're used to, but please don't kill anyone and don't even try to talk to Marcel Celestin's daughter. He'll rip you in half before you can say 'hello' to her." "Who are you to tell me who'll 'rip' me in half or not, Bennett? You've never even been in the field before." "My talents were needed elsewhere." Bennett retorted at the comment. Even Hurley joined in, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. Just get on with the presentation, please. Don't make me do your job for you." "Fine. Rapp, you will be there for the next year and at the end of that year, we will fake your death and you will return to Orion, living the same life as before. You'll have to go through a few minor adjustments with your appearance to fit in better there but it's nothing major, just a few tattoos and getting rid of that beard should do the trick. And you need to attend a four-hour French intensive every day before you leave just to make sure your French is up to par. Other than that, you should be good to go, Agent." "Really, Bennett? 'Good to go?' You're not forgetting anything?" Hurley leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring incredulously at Agent Bennett. "Uhhhh... No?"

"Gah-damnit! You didn't tell Rapp his undercover name, you idiot."

"Oh yeah. I did forget that."

"What's my name supposed to be then?"

"Mitch Stilinski. We wanted to keep your first name the same for ease, but we wanted to add in a vaguely European last name to adapt your name better to the setting." Bennett smiled at his fix.

Mitch got up and walked to the door, opening it slightly as he sighed, "Well then, I'm going to go home to prep for this upcoming year in hell. Thank you very much for all of that very insightful information, Bennett."

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