#i was that kid who burst into tears the moment someone raised their voice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 2 years ago

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So here's the scenario: Toji is your hot dilf apartment neighbor. You moved in next door to him, and you two hit it off as good neighbors ought to be. You're already in a relationship, but that "unfortunately" leads to a rocky end. But have no fear because Toji is here!

A/n: Just a lil' smthn I have to write out for a fic I'm about to write and not post bc I'm hella busy this week;;;w;;; But anyways, here we go, and I hope you enjoy! This was a lil rushed so sorry for typos or incorrect grammar!!

Cw: soft dom! Toji x fem! reader - it gets cute the first half but smutty the next, so minors DNI - makeout session - daddy kink - pet names (baby, good girl, mama/ma, sweetheart, sweetie, princess) - praise - missionary position - his dick touches your cervix - mention of violence and blood on Toji's end.

Wc: 1.7k

Dilf! Neighbor Toji...

...who rolls his eyes when he realizes someone will live next door to his unit. You first meet him on the day you move, happily introducing yourself to the tall man. Once he saw you, Toji was captivated by your kind tone and inviting atmosphere.

...who slowly but surely gets to know you as the days go on. You share moments of your life, and he shares some of his. You find out about his children, Tsumiki and Megumi, who you propose to babysit if he ever needs it, which is considered. Toji is told about your boyfriend whom you've been seeing for a long while. He pulls back from this information, but that doesn't mean he can't look at you when he pleases.

...whose children are the sweetest around you. Tsumiki enjoys playing and being around you, while her younger brother, Megumi, practically follows your every move like a baby duck. The more you spend time with them, the more you play a role in their life, and Toji can't help and think what if you were in their lives.

...who briefly meets your boyfriend and immediately catches a bad vibe from him. When he doesn't call or text you back after literal days go by, when he doesn't give you a ride to work even though you'd do so for him, even Toji's kids avoid him when he's around.

Oh, but the worse case of all was when Toji caught that little devil bringing another woman inside your apartment.

He wanted to do nothing but screw that man's face down, painting the hall with his blood. But he knows you'd be horrified, or worse, faint at the petrifying scene. So now, he stays quiet and waits for the perfect time.

...who loves the beautiful sound of your angry voice through the walls, with your door bursting open and your boyfriend's feet scampering down the stairs. Toji opens his door to see you breathing heavily, tears leaking on your face that's hot with anger and shame.

It hurts him to see you so broken, so he brings you inside for a cup of tea. It's up to you whether to talk about the issue; he knew you only needed company.

...who notices you hang out with him and his family without having to invite you over. Rather than going to your own apartment, you spend more time in his, playing games with his kids and making lunch for them or watching over the place while he's off doing hitmen business (which you don't know about yet).

He's not complaining at all, though. He welcomes you and would rather you be by his side than some other bastard who'd break your heart again.

...who enjoys it when it's just you two. The two of you are watching a movie together at Toji's, and the kids are at a sleepover.

You're lying next to him, your head resting on his shoulder with his hand stationed on yours. The television had your attention for quite some time until you felt someone's eyes looming into you. As you turn to see Toji, his gaze captures your eyes, and a smirk is thrown your way.

"What are you smiling about?" You raise a brow at him and chuckle.

A brow is raised in return. "Ya know you're very pretty, right?"

You bashfully look away from him. "Oh, stop it," you mumble as you can feel your face get a little hot. Toji snickers, the rise and fall of his chest causes your stomach to do flips.

"C'mon, don't be like that." He grips your shoulder to bring you closer, and his free hand gently pulls your face back to him. "I mean it, sweetheart. You're so fuckin' beautiful. You don't know what you do to me."

Your breathing goes slower, and your eyes can't seem to leave his green orbs. "What do I do to you?" Your voice drops down into a whisper.

There are no words. The two of you stare at one another as the movie fills the silence.

Toji's eyes don't leave yours, gaze so sharp as if you aren't allowed to either. The uncomfortable lack of response was gnawing you alive, and all you could do was hope for something to end this.

And then something does happen. Toji moves his face close enough for your nose to lightly brush his. Your body went rigid.

His chuckles were too low for your brain to function in this situation. "Nervous, huh? Close your eyes, baby. I'll take care of you."

You blink. Is this really happening right now?

Hesitation is present, yet your eyelids curtain your eyes. Toji grins harder in satisfaction and fulfills your silent request as his lips land on your anticipating plump ones.

Jerking a little, you reciprocate and kiss him back, your hands placed on his chest for some support. He brings one hand down to your back while the other holds the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as his tongue governs over yours.

The kiss is broken, in addition to the shaky breaths you inhale to steady yourself. Toji peers at you through a haze, drinking in your soft expression and the cute whimpers.

He grins at you. "So beautiful fr' me, sweetie, so fuckin' beautiful." He kisses you again, and the sound you make when he bites your lip has him wanting more. "Damn..." Toji grabs the TV remote to mute the television and cups your face with his big hands. " C'mere, mama," he says, his lips taking control with lustful haste.

You yelp into his mouth when you lose your balance, and Toji takes the initiative to lay you on the couch. Comfortable with the new position, your hands can roam around his back that hides under the black turtleneck, and your legs hold onto his waist as he rocks into your throbbing core.

Toji is absolutely relishing this moment. All this time, he could only watch and respect your prior relationship. But the more you smiled at him, played and cared for his children, wished him luck on his missions, and even visited his late wife's grave to pay respects, his resistance was hanging by a thread bound to snap.

And now that he has you in his grasp, mewling and squirming under him and softly gasping out his name in ecstasy, Toji would be even more idiotic than your ex if he let such a darling like you whisk away after all you've done for him.

It took a few moments for the makeout session to end, the two of you gasping for air instantly. You look at Toji, only to be met with the most breathtaking picture of your life.

The light from the TV highlights a side of his face, with his lips a little swollen and red from all the kissing that transpired. Strands of his slick black hair gravitate downwards away from his forehead. His emerald eyes are hooded softly, but the intense gaze isn't hindered as the feeling of hunger is portrayed through them.

You chew the bottom of your lip in anxiousness, and Toji laughs breathlessly.

"See?" He caresses your cheek. "Told you I'd take care of you, princess."

...who can hear the vibration of your phone ringing on the bedroom floor, with the caller ID titled your ex's name. But it doesn't matter to Toji. No, sir. Because at this moment in time is when you deserve his full attention as you're crying and panting heavily under his bow, your figure pressed into the bed as he drives his cock deep inside of you.

Salty tears on your face are wiped away by his calloused fingers. "Hnnngh, shit, shit, shit," curses fly out through gritted teeth as he slows his pace down. "Haaaah, damn, baby. You're grippin' me so hard, I ain't goin' nowhere."

He has you under him in missionary, but it wasn't the first position of the night. You're in your third round, and your body is aching. Your lips are swollen and plump, your legs twitch around his sweaty body, and your abused vulva is now a slick-covered mess extending to your inner thighs. The base of his cock has formed a creamy ring, evidence of the connection between your sexes, along with the sounds of skin slapping against each other.

"Ahhhh, haaaah, Daddy, please—Mmmph!!" You feel the tip of his length brush your cervix, you clamp into him harder, and Toji hisses at your inner grasp around him.

His sultry voice is weighed with exhaustion, but his tone still affects you. "Fuck, ma, I'm gonna— Aishhhh, oh fuck," his groans fill your ears, and a shiver is sent down your spine. "Where do you want it, sweetie?"

"I-I'll take the pill! Ahhaaa, please, Daddy, inside, inside!" Your words are slurred, but you choke them out for him to hear your demands.

"Heh, of course, for being such a good girl fr' me, mama." Toji's thrusts get erratically faster and harsher, your poor cervix being abused by the merciless intrusion of his dick.

Your eyes roll upwards as you let yourself go. You spasm around his girth and wait for him to finish. Toji hammers into you a few more cruel thrusts and then exhales out of heavy groan, eyebrows scrunched together as he releases himself into you.

Once you two come down from your high, he slowly moves off you and pulls his cock out. The cold feeling of cum and slick mixed together dripping out of your puffy cunt has you gasping.

Toji presses his forehead against yours and praises you for being such a good girl. You let out a worn-out chuckle and kissed his nose. The two of you lay together for a bit, harnessing the sense of bliss and peace as your bodies sink into the mattress when sleep succumbs to you both.

...who looks forward to you moving into his unit permanently, as well as Tsumiki and Megumi, counting the days for you to always be beside them. You fit the role of a family member by bringing them together. Toji realizes this and enjoys the thought of you being with his family, especially when the worst comes to worst. And even then, he'd lay down his life for your and his family's sake.

When the time comes, maybe another little being can join this happy union you've created, and Toji will be fully prepared.

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unfortunately-not-a-chip · 2 months ago

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Please write Jeremy & the Trojans outsider POV of wtf is happening with the foxes at literally any fucking time. Maybe at one of the banquets? Or could just be watching TV tbh. Or looking at news on their phones.

Yes I love this, here it is!!

———

Everyone knows about the foxes, a ragtag team of kids from every walk of life. They had never been a loved team but Jeremy was biased, especially when Kevin made his big transfer. Guiltily, he would admit he didn’t keep up with the team as much as he could, but Jeremy would prefer to hear about the team firsthand, and not through the skew of the media. However, when Cat and Laila beckoned him to the sofa to watch the introduction of the foxes newest striker, he couldn’t help but indulge.

When the striker walked onto the stage, Kevin in tow, Jeremy noticed nothing of note about him. He shrunk back into himself as he shook hands with Kathy, seemingly overall nervous. Jeremy sympathised, remembering the ball of nerves he had been his first time talking to the press. Jeremy tuned in and out of the interview, only coming to full attention when Cat smacked him in the shoulder.

“Holy shit” she said, drawing his attention to the screen. Jeremy watched as Kathy Ferdinand, ever the enabler, beckoned Riko onto stage. He rolled his eyes at the on screen drama and then promptly felt guilty as he watched the color drain from Kevin’s face.

“Ugh poor Kev,” Jeremy sighed, “I can’t watch this”

“Fine, can you at least get me some popcorn from the kitchen?” Cat replied, and Laila snickered by her side. Jeremy obliged, grabbing a packet of popcorn from the cabinet and stuffing it in the microwave. He watched it rotate in a circle about twice before Cat shouted from the living room again

“Dude- Jere- you need to see this”

Jeremy abandoned the rotating popcorn in favor of seeing what the ruckus was about. Looking back at the TV the striker, Neil his name was, looked like a completely different person. The once shy looking man now sat leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs and a snarl on his face that Jeremy could feel the cold of even through the screen. He made it just in time to hear the tail end of his sentence

“You’re going to eat your words. And you’re going to choke on them.”

After this, Jeremy kept an eye on Neil Josten and the foxes, and they managed to stay vaguely under the radar until the next banquet. Jeremy found himself looking forward to the banquet for once. For the chance to speak with Kevin after everything that happened and maybe a little bit to meet the new loudmouth striker they found.

He got increasingly frustrated however as he was pulled away to talk to other teams captains, his eyes flicking back and forth between them and the new group forming between a few of the foxes and some of the ravens. Laila must have seen him because she eventually put him out of his misery and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from his albeit one sided conversation. She brought them to the edge of the group, turning him to face her and lowering her voice when he raised an eyebrow.

“Just listen”

That’s when Jeremy tuned in to the foxes and ravens, piquing in interest at the sharp tone of Neil’s voice… and… holy shit. Jeremy listens as Neil tears someone to shreds. Jeremy shared a look with Laila watching her face split into a slow grin as she clearly holds back a laugh at his words. She managed to keep it in until they made it to the bus, where she essentially tackled Cat in excitement as to share what she heard. A couple Trojans gathered around as she recounted the moment.

“And then- he said” she puts on her best Neil impression, lowering her voice “Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time” The Trojans burst out in shouts and laughter, only stopping when Cody cut in. “Who was he even talking to?” Jeremy shrugged in reply but Cat seemed to have other ideas. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper

“I bet it was Riko, I mean we saw how they were at each others throats on the Ferdinand show,”

The Riko Neil rivalry isn’t fully confirmed, at least not for a while. Tensions raised, obviously, especially when it became evident that the foxes and ravens were going to be facing off at the championship game. The Trojans all cozied up together to watch the deciding match, some still a little salty at the preceding loss but all wanting to see if the foxes would prevail.

The match was close, a constant push and pull between ravens and foxes with the outcome seeming as though it would lead to a shootout when in the last seconds of the game, Kevin scored a goal. The eruption of the on screen audience wasn’t too far off from that of the Trojans, jumping around in excitement at how close of a battle they had just witnessed, how incredible of a goal. Cat nudged Jeremy in the arm pointing to where the camera focused on an exhausted Neil Josten, on the ground and looking up at Riko.

“What I would give to hear what he’s saying right now” she said, and Jeremy turned to look at her, planning on making his agreement known. Something was off in her expression however, and the Trojans went silent as they locked their gazes on the screen.

Jeremy quickly turned his gaze as well and felt his heart drop. Riko lifted his racquet with lethal intent and brought it swinging down towards Neil’s head. The announcer gasped in shock, seemingly unsure what to say in the face of this moment and Jeremy watched in seeming slow motion as the racquet came down, down, and as the goalkeeper began to run. The moment ended in a screeching collision that the Trojans couldn’t tear their eyes from, the goalkeeper racquet coming up as Riko’s swung down, a battle that ended in a clack, a scream, and a broken arm, but Neil alive. After the event the announcers paused broadcasting and Jeremy turned off the TV facing his team. Unsure what to say about the silence that settled over the room he took a deep breath and let out an awkward laugh

“What a game, am I right?”

#aftg #all for the game #drabble #aftg fic #neil josten #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #the sunshine court #jeremy knox #usc trojans #kevin day

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dokk-fukuro · 2 years ago

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Shrift [Fyodor Dostoevsky x f!Reader]

A/N: mentioned of female genitals, smut, slight degradation, orgasm denial, aphrodisiac, some sort of dubcon.

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

The instinct of self-preservation is only half of the requirements that are necessary to avoid problems. A sense of tact and banal politeness can also help prevent worse outcomes, but not for me, apparently, because I still don’t quite understand what I did to deserve the fate of being a prisoner in some damp basement. How long have I been here, what am I for, and who is my kidnapper? I don't know the answer to any of these questions. However, sometimes it is better not to think about such things, especially if the fantasy is rich. And yet, how could a thug from the Black Lizards unit be useful to someone? I only know how to kill. A kid picked up from the slums, taken from his parents who didn't care about me or my brothers. From us it was possible to blind anything, so they blinded. But none of us complain about it. Life in the mafia is not so bad, at least it's better than stealing and getting punished if we get caught.

Twilight reigns in the basement where I sit. Almost nothing is visible here, but even subtle sounds echo. All this time, it seems to me that I became a target simply by accident. Whether they torture me or not doesn't really matter. After all, my comrades most likely abandoned me, and none of them even look for me. In my mind, I apologize to Gin, who instilled in me the will to fight no matter what, to Higuchi and Akutagawa-san. I can't escape, they don't know where to look for me, so leaving me to my fate is the best decision they can make.

I hear someone's steps. It doesn't bother me, it doesn't confuse me. I was preparing for this moment. Now the one who will torment me will appear before me. In exchange for what? Not a single idea comes to mind what anyone might need from a Black Lizard fighter. We all know only what will be useful. We are not initiated into the details, and no one asks for more. Everyone is satisfied.

“It was not easy to drag you here, but the Master ordered.” I hear a voice. I raise my head to see the one in front of me. A pale, slender young man appears in the light of the lamp. It's hard to say for sure how old he is. His wide smile from ear to ear is a little unsettling and reminds me of the times Higuchi saw Akutagawa-san at the end of the corridor. She always frightened me much more than this freak with a bandaged head, who keeps looking at me with unblinking eyes. “And his wishes are my command. Tell me, darling, are your hands numb?”

I frown, trying to guess who put me in the basement and why. And only at the moment when this someone voiced, I realize that I can’t lift a finger. The blood has drained from the limbs, so they almost don't feel like my own. For the first time I wanted to cry like a little girl, ask questions, burst into three streams of tears, but I suppress these desires in myself. This shouldn’t be in my nature, otherwise shame on me as a fighter of the Black Lizards.

"What do you need me for?" Still, I can't resist asking a question. The young man in front of me squints contentedly, as if he had been waiting for this moment. True, he definitely does not like that his question is ignored. I get punched in the stomach, knocking all the air out of my lungs.

"I think I asked a question. It's impolite of you to leave it unanswered," he reminds me, but before he clearly wants to hit me again, I hear someone else's steps. Someone in front of me abruptly stops and clears the passage, standing near me. Clearing my throat, I raise my head to see the one in front of me. Pale, black-haired, with a snow-white cap on his head. His purple eyes are dead, as if there is no sign of life behind them. Even in Akutagawa-san's eyes, I didn't see that. He has a little life in them.

Silence reigns. No one says a word and it honestly pisses me off, which is pretty amazing. After an indefinite time of silence around, I hear someone's voices, and now, when silence is around again, I want to scream. Why was everyone silent? The silence feels like torture.

There is a stir on my right as a young man with a bandaged head moves away, leaving me alone with the man who entered after him. Compared to me, he is tall, which is even a little uncomfortable. Even Akutagawa-san, who is also taller than me, doesn't push as hard as a stranger does. His gloved hand grabs my lower jaw and squeezes it hard.

And it begins to dawn on me who is in front of me. In the meantime, I heard Kouyou-sama raging about Ace, saying that he allows himself too much. To be frank, no one liked him much. I didn't like seeing him around from time to time. Head of the Port Mafia Executive Committee. His ever-sly squint and smirk, as if he won the lottery from this life, strained. I wonder if this asshole is still alive? Most likely not. And now the one that Ace was holding back in his prison is holding me in the basement. Fyodor Dostoevsky.

“And you are not one of the talkative ones,” it only dawns on me at this moment that he has been addressing me all this time. I purse my lips and... I hear clicks above my head. Hands fall, located along the body, and rushing blood pricks unpleasantly in them. I still can't move a finger, so trying to grab the hand that's still holding my face fails miserably. But why would he release me? Even more, why does he need me?

Through simple deductions, the only completely rational thought comes to mind. I can be used as one of the possible leverage. Dostoevsky is not so stupid, and probably already knows enough about me to use it. The brothers will definitely not be able to ignore my sudden disappearance, so it will only benefit him if those whom he challenges arrive in his lair. And, it seems, with this conclusion I fall into the very “ten”. At least that's what Fyodor's grin indicates. Can he read minds? Or is my thought process so obvious to him? Most likely the second.

“You are not so stupid if you managed to figure out part of my plan so quickly,” comes to my ears in confirmation of my guess. A closer look seems to eat away my soul by the teaspoon. Under the gaze of dark purple eyes is so uncomfortable that I want to scream. I can hardly restrain myself, for which I get laughter in response. Quiet, slightly husky. The whole situation seems to amuse him.

He doesn’t say anything to me anymore, he just leads me like I’m on a leash. On the other hand, it will be better if I obey, although I have nothing to lose anymore. However, it still surprises me that no one is going to force any information out of me. Although, knowing who Fyodor Dostoevsky is, this is also not surprising. He doesn't need to torture anyone to get what he wants. He, like a rat, can penetrate anywhere, get the right information and go unnoticed. It remains only to hope that my brothers will be smart enough not to be provoked and not to be led by their emotions. This will lead to fatal errors. The mere failure to comply with the order for all of them can be very costly, to say nothing of the fact that one of my older brothers may well question the correctness of the decision taken by our leadership. If only they had enough brains...

The corridors seem the same. Only the people in them are different, so it makes no sense for me to remember the path. I walk in complete silence with Fyodor. He doesn't give any explanation, he doesn't say anything. On the other hand, it's even better. Around the next turn, the same young man with a bandaged head is waiting for us again. His thin lips curve into an ear-to-ear smile. All I hear is “So she’s ready,” but I don’t attach much importance to this, although my mind is hysterically rushing about in search of explanations. What am I ready for, what will they do with me? For the first time I am so scared that I am ready to call for help. I'm being handed over to that strange person, but I... don't mind.

There is darkness before my eyes, I can’t see where I’m going, I listen to every rustle, as if my life depends on it. However, there is some truth in this. Any of my wrong actions can entail such consequences that death seems to me the most humane solution. In front of me, someone hums a simple tune, leading me by the hand. Disorientation in space leads to the fact that I seem to almost collide with something, but I am abruptly pulled to the side with the words: “What a careless creature.” It sounds with tenderness and even some pity. I'm still not asking questions. I obviously do not need it on foreign territory. Here I am destined to play by the rules dictated by the one who runs everything. And this is Fyodor.

It looks like we're going outside. At least fresh air without a hint of dampness gives an opaque hint of it. Behind me, someone chuckles nastily, fixes my wrists, and a stabbing pain pierces my shoulder. It's like a syringe. Apparently, they decided to poison me or stuff me with something that would force me to kill my own people, and then carry myself away after them. They push me in the back and I fall onto the metal floor. Something closes behind me. The sound is similar to the doors of a truck or minivan. The rattling of the ground beneath me makes me think I've been pushed into a car and taken somewhere.

Where are we going? “I need to keep my mouth shut. How many more times do I have to repeat myself in order to remember once and for all? In answer to my question, I hear laughter. Nobody gives me a clear answer. “You will find out everything yourself,” and I begin to like it less and less. As well as the fact that I get hot, my breathing becomes heavier, and my body begins to tremble. Is this the effect of poison? Not likely. More like the effect of some kind of drug. And, what is most disgusting, the way the car is driving on obvious off-road makes the situation worse. Any bump, any unevenness in the road makes the car shake, sending vibration along my body, and the inability to see anything in front of me only aggravates the situation.

The silence around is alarming, and only somewhere in the distance is heard how someone plays the cello. Hope I'm not mistaken. But for some reason even this does not calm me; on the contrary, I start to get even more nervous, and every step becomes only more difficult to take. All sounds, smells, even a slight change in air flow - everything is felt many times brighter. I bite my lips, feeling the heat build up between my legs. I need at least some touch, at least a minimal amount of friction... no, it only makes the situation worse.

Someone else's touch on the shoulder makes me stop and breathe out noisily. I can’t think clearly, I can’t concentrate on at least one thought. My hands are behind my back, the handcuffs are unpleasantly pressing on my wrists, my clothes also seem to fetter my body. And it dawns on me what they did to me. But for some reason I'm not even horrified by the realization that I somehow don't care. My mind has been drugged, my body yearns for someone else's touch, but I don't care if it's because of what I've been injected with. Desires override common sense.

The melody gets louder and then cuts off. I hear the rustle of clothes, as someone rises from his seat. Steps. One, two, three. I shake a little when the sensation of someone else's warmth gets too close to me. Touching my hair feels good. I purse my lips, it is not clear why, I can obviously be easily read, like an open book. The door behind closes. Clicks behind the back.

“No, no, don’t take off the blindfold, it’s not time yet,” yes, he definitely sees right through me, so I let him do whatever he wants with me. Hands rest on my shoulders, and I exhale noisily. A smile is heard. “It seems that Ivan went too far with the dose. But that's even better. You're so receptive and it's so dirty. I will cleanse your body and soul from sins. Come with me.”

It's Fyodor by the voice. He languidly draws syllables, his speech is viscous like syrup, just as cloying, the touch of his gloved hands - I'm still sure that he wears them - slow, studying, and I almost squirm in his hands in impatience. Anything, please, but let this agony end. The desire, which already painfully reduces the inner side of the thighs, does not come to naught, but is only fueled by someone's touches. It is unbearable!

He takes me by the hand and leads me somewhere. Apparently, I was too immersed in the concentration on other people's touches that I notice the coolness of the air only moments later, when Dostoevsky pushes me, and I fall on the bed. It's cold, it sends goosebumps all over my body, and I can't hold my breath on the verge of a moan.

Rustling of fabric. I can't figure out if it's because I'm fidgeting in the cool bed, or if Fyodor is undressing, but his hand is touching my bare thigh. My parted lips tremble; the touches are so weightless, there are so few of them, that in this agony I am ready to beg for more. I almost suffocate, my head is spinning, and the ghostly touches, which already seem like a dirty joke of a naughty imagination, do not stop. My body is being explored with hands, as if studying reactions to touch here and there. When a hand comes to a stop on my neck and squeezes it, I let out a moan, unable to control myself.

“Your sinful desire is so strong that it’s disgusting to touch you. I have not yet begun to caress you, and your face is already twisted in sweet agony. Such a vicious one,” Fyodor clicks his tongue and laughs huskly. His hand unclenched and grabbed my chest, squeezing noticeably. “But I can't do anything about myself. You poison my mind with your desire, you should be ashamed.”

His words, like poison, penetrate the skin, spread through the veins, igniting the flame only stronger. I should be embarrassed, that's a fact. I should be ashamed that I can't control myself, can't just find the strength to push him away, pull off the blindfold, and just run away. However, even if I try, it is unlikely that it will go unpunished, and then I will have to guess: he will beat me, or someone else will do it. But in this case, I definitely won’t leave alive.

My mental tossings do not go unnoticed, that's for sure, because again I hear laughter in my ear, and a whine escapes my lips. I can't take it anymore! That's too much! His voice sends goosebumps down my spine, turns on a drugged mind, and the pain from the force with which he pinches my nipple brings me back to reality. I am in a stalemate, completely naked on the bed in the arms of Fyodor Dostoevsky, who does with me whatever he wants, as if I were a toy to satisfy his desires. Exactly his desire! And somehow I don't mind at all.

The palm that tormented my breast descends lower to my parted legs, stroking and squeezing the inside of my thigh, slapping it as dry, hot lips attack my neck, leaving painful kisses that will bloom in hickeys. I can't hold back any longer. I arch my back, long moans and pleas to touch my pussy, to stop this torture, break from my lips. I can’t take this anymore!

His hand circles around my labia, parting them a little, but his fingers don't push any further. Where Dostoevsky touched me with his palm, it was burning hot, as if it was still there, but I hear rustling and something falling on the bed, and now another slap on the thigh feels more painful, it is more sonorous. The brunet took off his glove. And now he is attacking my body with double fury. I can even feel the teeth digging into my skin, but all I can do is moan and move towards him. More. I want more!

Once again, my breath tightens in my chest as I feel two fingers pierce inside me with that characteristic wet sound. Shame washed over me from the bottom of my stomach to my head, but I had to accept it while Fyodor sucked and almost gnawed into my chest. I don’t even think to bring my legs together. I just spread them wider. He laughs and gives me the order to remove the blindfold, because he wants to see my face in moments of sinful pleasure.

“Such a pleading look. You're so pathetic underneath me But this is not enough, you must understand.” Dostoevsky continues to move his fingers inside me, pulling out moans from my chest. I tighten around his fingers, look at his body. Sickly pale skin, as if he had anemia, without a hint of scars. The brunet is subtle, but with all this he has incredible strength. The look of his dark, purple eyes literally devours me, and the wide pupils give him only more gloominess.

He drops kisses on the places where he left marks. There will definitely be bruises, and then his dry lips cover my bitten ones, while the knot in the bottom of my stomach pulls, dissolving in languor. I'm about to come, but everything is cut off, his fingers leave my body, leaving me on the edge. I'm almost ready to cry.

"Please, Dostoevsky." I can barely manage to squeeze out as soon as the distance between our lips increases. He pretends not to understand what I want from him, and for some reason I am ashamed to say this out loud. The brunet touches my body, squeezes the nipple with his fingers, squeezes my chest, rubs his erection on my thigh, but doesn’t bring me to orgasm. “Please, fuck me. I want to cum.”

Fyodor laughs hoarsely. He clearly has more composure than I do, although judging by the way his body trembles, he's on edge too.

“What a pervert you are. You want to feel the dick inside you so much that you’re ready to beg.” It doesn’t matter what happens to me later, if I feel good now. With one movement, Dostoevsky fills me to the accompaniment of my loud moan. He doesn't give me a minute to get used to it, he starts to move, groaning gutturally, my lower stomach feels nice as I feel the young man pushing deeper and deeper into me. Fyodor stares into my eyes as his pace gets faster and rougher, his hands clutching painfully at my hips, digging their nails into my skin, my legs pinned against my chest as he ram unceremoniously into my body, making me scream.

With another deafening scream and a sharp, deep thrust inside, everything subsides. Dostoevsky freezes, looking at me. Disheveled, out of breath, with a maniacal smirk on his face.

“We are not done with your shrift, sinner. I will fill you again and again until you repent.”

#My writing #bsd #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #dostoevsky x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd smut #bsd dostoevsky #dostoevsky smut #fyodor x reader

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bau-drabbles · 2 years ago

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Hiiii could you do one where hotch teaches the reader it’s okay to be vulnerable about anxiety?

hii, yes i can 🥰 you didn't specify so i made it platonic reader instead :) rushed as always but i hope you enjoy <33

just keep breathing, it'll be fine

it was hard not to succumb to the misery that plagued you endlessly these last few weeks. your depression was at an all time low and to make it worse your anxiety had managed to spike at the most random timings. it was such an inconvenience especially at work where you couldn't hide it as easily.

you felt it starting up again, the restlessness coursing through your veins and your heart pacing in your chest. you clenched and unclenched your fists yet it did very little to stop the feeling coursing through your veins.

"hey guys i was thinking we should go out tonight" jj smiles as you all pile out of the elevator. she looks back but you simply nod, feigning tiredness.

"actually i think i'm gonna skip out, goodnight though" before she had time to protest, you escaped into your office.

unaware of a certain set of eyes on you the entire time

•••

"l/n" hotch calls from the room and you mumble a response, picking up the remaining paperwork on your desk. you felt like bursting into tears, life had been so incredibly difficult lately. but not here and especially not in front of your boss. the absolute sheer embarrassment was enough to stop you crumbling.

hotch steps closer, simply observing you while you look up again in confusion. did you leave something out? why was he looking as though you did something wrong?

"did something-" you begin but he speaks, cutting you off.

"you know it's okay to have an off day, right? it doesn't mean you're weak" the concern throws you off a little as you gape at him, wondering how he knew. but you quickly compose yourself, fidgeting with the papers in your hand.

"i'm fine hotch, i actually couldn't be better" you raise a brow, trying to side step him but he blocks you. his eyes are narrowed, his brows raised in almost amusement. at that point you don't know who you're trying to kid, him or yourself.

it urked you that he knew so much from so little. you could feel the shame burning your skin, he wasn't supposed to know your personal affairs. but this was why he was such a good federal agent. not only was he an incredible analyst for unsubs but he also profiled his team, much to everyones displeasure

"really? because in the span of the 10 minutes we've been talking, i've noticed the dark circles around your eyes that you haven't been sleeping but it's not by choice. you have a prescription note by your bag for some sleeping medications dated a few days back but you're skeptical because nothing has worked so far. you've been picking the skin around your fingers, your jaw and muscles are both tightened and you haven't taken a deep breath since you've been here. how did i do?" he asks you so casually, almost like it was the weather you were discussing. you had fallen into his trap and you know it. your silence tells him what he needs to know and hotch comes forwards until he's a couple steps away.

"i know it's easier said than done but it's okay to be vulnerable here y/n. you're safe, i promise" he removes his hand and it all feels a little too much. but it felt a little better that hotch was there and he wasn't going anywhere.

"i don't say that to be mean, i just wanted you to know that it's okay if you don't feel your best. i know i don't know what's going on but i do know that this job can take a lot out of someone if you let it. feelings are just visitors, let them come and go. they can't control you" he touches your shoulder, looking into your eyes. he means every word he says and he hopes you know it.

"thank you hotch" your voice is a little shaky, looking at him once more. your fears have subsided a little as you embrace him tightly for a moment. it felt so relieving to know that you weren't alone, that he was there.

"of course. and if you need any support, we're here for a reason. you don't have to worry yourself to death" he nods and you chuckle, raising an eyebrow. the whole irony of the situation made you giggle a little. it was weird to think hotch had emotions. everyone was so used to seeing him being a stoic team leader. him having small meaningful talks with you was adorable.

"thank you. y'know its kinda funny you're telling me this.... 'cause you're like a big angry wall, all your emotions bounce off of you. i'm trying to be more like you actually" you pick up your files, giving him a cheeky smile as you head towards the door. garcia calls your name and you rush out, hearing them all come towards you erupting in giggles over a joke spencer had said. for the first time in a long time your heart feels a little lighter and bearable.

as you leave the room hotch gives a soft shake of his head and a smile, glancing back at you. there you were surrounded by your team, smiles all around. and he knew anxiety didn't vanish but you needn't worry anymore. he couldn't take the pain away but he would sit with you until it passed.

whatever happened, you had him. that much you could count on

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner

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skzinka · 2 years ago

Text

“ DON'T LEAVE ME ” ft. han jisung

timeline : december, 2021

summary : it's time to go. (ft. lua of ateez)

word count : 1.1k>

walking out of the room after her argument with chan, inka furiously rubbed her face to wipe away the tears that flowed from her eyes, ignoring the other members who looked at her with questioning gaze. she hurried to go to her room, slamming the door with a loud crash, before bursting into tears on the floor.

her heart hurting terribly, as if a dagger was piercing her chest — it was the last straw. she felt like a nobody, she felt betrayed, trampled, as if all the confidence in her had been shattered. maybe her reaction was abusive, but she definitely couldn't stand this atmosphere anymore : she was suffocating.

coughing until she lost her lungs while beating her chest repeatedly, the girl was desperately trying to regain a steady breath while she stopped crying. getting up after a few minutes, inka walked to her closet and pulled out a large bag, carelessly placing several clothes inside.

she couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for her.

suddenly, a few barely audible knocks were heard against the door of her room — and although she didn't want to see anyone, he left her no choice and entered the dark room.

« are you okay? » asked her interlocutor, although he thought it was a silly question seeing the pitiful state of his elder's face. inka raised her head for a few seconds, meeting jisung's gaze before sniffing, « no. i'm clearly not okay. »

jisung bit his lower lip, nervous about suddenly entering into inka's room. then, he slid his eyes to her best friend's bed, noticing the bag full of clothes on it, and his heart began to race — but out of fear.

« talk to me, i'm here for you. » he said in a soft, concerned voice, but inka was annoyed, sad, overwhelmed by the whole situation that was eating her up inside. closing her eyes for a few seconds to calm down, inka rubbed the bridge of her nose mechanically. everything she had kept inside her for a whole year was coming out as if a black beast was unleashed — and it was not good at all.

kalaya was the kind of girl who kept everything to herself, until the day her tolerance gauge reaches its limit and she explodes. suffering alone in her corner was definitely not the best of her ideas, but she was like that after all : keep everything to herself so as not to worry anyone.

but now she had shed too many tears and had allowed too many inappropriate things to happen, it was time for her to show that she deserved better.

a sigh left her lips as she dropped her body onto her bed, burying her head in her hands, « the thing is, i don't feel like i'm a member of stray kids anymore, jisung. »

jisung thought his heart was going to give out when he heard his elder's statement — he didn't think she felt that bad. obviously, she looked so much more worse than a previous years ago, but now her sadness was increasingly felt. inka was always someone he admired : a strong and persevering girl who never gave up despite all the difficulties she may have encountered. helpful, always there for others, putting the well-being of her loved ones before her own all the time. inka was amazing. jisung sometimes dreamed of being like her. but at the moment, all he could see was a young girl destroyed by a situation of which she was the one and only victim. she had endured all this alone, locked up every day in her bubble of bad vibes, while putting on a brave face in front of people, not to leave a single trace of her weakness to appear.

now, she was at a point of no return, where only pain could be felt in every particle of her body.

the youngest of the two felt bad, helpless, not knowing what to say or do to relieve her, comfort her. he was speechless, almost paralyzed by the fear of saying one wrong thing, and risk breaking her even more.

« i no longer have the faith to continue. i give up. » — inka's words completely crushed the young man, the latter feeling a huge panic growing in all his being. this whole story had gone too far. he felt helpless, everything was out of control. the young girl got up suddenly, closing furiously her bag of clothes before putting on her jacket.

she was ready to leave when jisung's hand grabbed her wrist, making her turn to face him. the thai girl could read the fear in his eyes, an anguish crackling in the depths of his irises. inka looked desolate, her eyes penetrating jisung's soul, which seemed to be losing his bearings one after the other.

« sungie, let me go. » but the boy's grip tighten around her wrist, his cold trembling hand electrifying her skin, « please. »

« noona, don't leave me. » — the crack in his voice made inka's blood run cold. he looked unsettled, lost, scared, like an abandoned puppy, it was the first time she had seen him so vulnerable, and being the cause of his torment broke her already bruised heart. it was an unexpected situation between the two young adults, who were clearly not used to be in such a tense and tragic atmosphere. but despite the obvious desire of kalaya to take him in her arms and comfort him, it was time for her to finally think of herself first.

then, whispering a little sorry to him, big tears running down her cheeks, she got rid of his grip and left the dorm without another word. jisung stood here for a moment in front of the now closed door, silently crying and praying that this was just a terrible nightmare.

after many minutes of driving, not saying a word to her manager who didn't dare to question her, inka finally found herself at the door of her one and only escape road.

« inka? » lua's voice reached the ears of the brunette who suddenly felt her lip shaking furiously, and then, she sniffed, holding her bag against her as if to protect herself from everything around her, before asking in a broken voice, « can i stay here for a few days, please? »

her best friend instantly agreed, and it didn't take long for inka to burst into tears in her arms, clinging to her as if she were her last hope. her heart was hurting so much, so it was satisfying to know that someone still had complete sincerity towards her.

✧⠁taglist : @invuwrld @writerblock-sucks @mynameisnotlaura @alyszaen @felixsbrat @alixnsuperstxr

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tennessoui · 2 years ago

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Prompt ask! 😍

"I need you, though"

guess who went to the zoo today i went to the zoo today so this is the premise of my zookeeper au in ficlet form

(1.6k) (warning: himbo obi-wan)

Obi-Wan Kenobi is leaning against the post of the goat pin, watching him.

Anakin doesn’t quite know what to do about that, and he decides to table the issue until he has a moment to shoo the man away.

What he can’t figure out is why Obi-Wan Kenobi is here. They’ve never talked. Until this very moment, he hadn’t realized Obi-Wan Kenobi even knew who he was, but when he turns his head slightly to the side to peek over at him, it’s definitely him that he’s looking at.

Of course he knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is though. He’s one of the best zookeepers in the Coruscant Zoo—and probably the most recognizable. After all, he’s the head of the team that works with the big cats, and everyone comes to the zoo to see the lions and tigers be fed and sleep. And whatever else the lions and tigers do.

It probably helps that the guy feeding them and playing with them is undeniably also probably handsomest man in all of Coruscant.

Maybe not, Anakin doesn’t know.

What Anakin does know is that it’s very hard to look in Obi-Wan’s direction without imagining beard burn on his thighs, a fact of life that’s thus far not mattered much.

But now he’s surrounded by little children, exhausted moms, and goats, sheep, rabbits, and ponies. Arousal is not one of the feelings he should be having at this moment.

He throws the fresh hay down by the stable and wipes the sweat off his forehead. He needs to get Obi-Wan Kenobi to leave because he probably has—like, an actual job to do. He’s wearing his zookeeping jumpsuit, which means he probably should be on the other side of the zoo, prodding sleeping lions or petting tigers.

He’s probably scaring the bunnies, smelling all like big cat and predator and sandalwood cologne with just a hint of spice—

Look, it’s normal that Anakin knows what Obi-Wan Kenobi smells like. They’ve passed each other in the hall before, at work events. He’s pretty sure Obi-Wan Kenobi has come out of the bathroom right before Anakin went in a few times too, so it’s not like it’s abnormal to know how the guy smells.

And the most important thing is he can’t be smelling like that around Anakin’s babies, because they’re probably terrified and they have to put up with enough with all the snot-nosed brats that come in and try to pull their tails or ears.

On his way over to Obi-Wan Kenobi, he sees a little girl in a princess dress doing just that with Cinny-Minny Bun Bun, which is a crime too grievous to go unpunished, so he redirects his body immediately to snatch the poor bunny away from the girl’s grubby little fingers. “You’ll hurt her doing that,” Anakin chides in a perfectly polite sort of voice, cuddling the bunny to his chest. Cinny is quivering. “What if someone came up and pulled on your ears? How would you like that?”

The little girl looks at him for two seconds before promptly bursting into tears. Internally, Anakin rolls his eyes. Kids cry about everything, but they especially don’t like being told that they can’t torture small animals.

Psychopaths, all of them.

He keeps Cinny against his chest as he turns away from the kid and finishes his trek over to Obi-Wan, who is giving him a very unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“You can’t be here, you’re scaring the animals with your—big cat scent,” he says once they’re face to face, separated by the posts of the fence around the petting zoo.

“You’re scaring the children,” Obi-Wan Kenobi points out, which may be the first words he’s ever said to him directly.

Anakin scowls and adjusts his hold on Cinny-Minny. “Children are the worst.”

Now Obi-Wan is smiling slightly, which is a really good look for him. “Your job hinges upon being able to work with animals and children, and—and, Mr. Skywalker, that was a very disappointing display I just witnessed. I understand thata you’re still grieving the unexpected loss of your wife, but you have to keep your personal life from affecting your work, or we’ll be forced to terminate your contract with Coruscant Zoo. I’ll be making a note of this incident in your file for your performance review at the end of the month.”

This is all said very sternly and with a self-assured yet disapproving tone.

But Anakin thinks he’d probably notice if he had a wife and also if she died tragically. He blinks at Obi-Wan and wonders if the man is having a stroke. He’s also pretty sure Obi-Wan can’t actually fire him.

He could probably sic the big cats on him though, which is less than optimal.

“Uh,” Anakin settles on saying.

Obi-Wan’s eyes dart away from his face and then back to him before he breaks out into a grin. “Sorry, the mother of the child you traumatized was coming over looking rather unhappy. I thought if I told you off for your outlandish and boarish behavior, she wouldn’t feel the need to. And she’s turned back now, so. You’re welcome.”

Anakin blinks. “Me and my dead wife thank you,” he finally says. “You need to go though. They can probably smell Split Pea all over you.”

“I don’t actually roll around with the lion as much as you may think I do,” Obi-Wan says, and both of his eyebrows are raised.

“Oh, of course. That’s just the tigers.”

“Chowder and Gumbo enjoy my company, but for the most part I do stay out of all of my enclosures. They’re big cats, not exactly petting zoo material.”

“Which is why you need to leave,” Anakin says again, in case Obi-Wan didn’t hear that part. “You’re scaring Cinny-Minny.”

“Cinny-Minny.”

“Cinnamon Minerva Bun Bun.”

Now it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to blink. “Ah. Of course.”

“All your animals are named after soups,” Anakin says defensively. “Don’t throw stones.”

Obi-Wan looks amused, which is also a very good look on him, the fucker. “I didn’t say anything,” he points out.

Anakin scowls and clutches Cinny close. He’s ninety percent sure she’s fallen asleep.

“You need to leave,” he reiterates. “I need you though,” Obi-Wan says, and then looks slightly horrified. “Your hands. No, sorry. I mean—” it’s the first time this entire conversation that Obi-Wan Kenobi has been flustered, and Anakin would be enjoying it a lot more if he could think past all the mental images of what Obi-Wan could use his hands for.

“That,” Obi-Wan finally spits out, looking mortified as he rubs a hand over his face and uses his other one to gesture at—

Anakin blinks down at Cinny. “My bunny?”

Does Obi-Wan think the petting zoo animals are like class pets that the employees can go home with? How did he get such an erroneous conception and also why is Anakin sort of jealous of a rabbit right now?

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “Well, no.”

“Thanks for clearing that one up,” Anakin says gamely. “Want to try again?”

Obi-Wan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, like Anakin is the one being difficult here. “I…am in need of your expertise.”

“My expertise. In…bunnies?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan snaps. Anakin blinks at him. “I—my friend is out of town for a month, and he asked me to pet sit for him. And I think I’m killing the rabbit.”

This is pretty alarming actually.

“What?”

“It’s not eating anything and it just—sits in its hutch. I haven’t seen it eat any of the food I’ve left out, and it’s like. Shaking?” Obi-Wan crosses his arms. “I’m worried I’ve given it a terrible case of seasonal depression, honestly, but my friend’s daughter will literally never forgive me if I kill her rabbit.”

Anakin thinks he probably agrees with the friend’s daughter, and something like that may flash across his face because it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to scowl.

“I’ve tried everything that works for my cats,” he says. “Nothing. I’m running out of ideas, Anakin.”

This is the first time Obi-Wan’s said his name, and Anakin finds himself half-distracted by how much he enjoys the way it sounds in his voice. But more importantly: “Wait, sorry, did you—did you, what, give the bunny extra bloody meat? Put the food on a stick and wriggle it around to encourage its predator instincts to come out and play?”

Obi-Wan’s silent for a moment too long.

“Oh my god,” Anakin says before bursting into laughter so fierce that he has to shove Cinny into Obi-Wan’s hands just to clutch his own stomach.

Obi-Wan holds the bunny like he’s holding a lit stick of dynamite, and it only makes Anakin laugh harder. This is a man who routinely walks into small spaces already inhabited by clawed and fanged predators and scratches them behind the ears, but the fluffy bunny in his hands looks as if it may break him.

“Alright, thank you,” Obi-Wan says, sounding more than a little put-out and ticked off. “Alright.”

Anakin’s laughter finally peters out, and he takes Cinny Minny back from Obi-Wan before he can give the rabbit PTSD or anything. “Okay,” he hears himself say, which is weird because he hasn’t thought at all about the actual request, unable to think past the mental image of Obi-Wan trying to find a bunny the way he feeds his lions. “Yeah, okay. Do you need just like—advice or. Pet websites? A blog forum?” “Come over,” Obi-Wan demands. “I learn best through hands-on demonstration.”

Anakin doesn’t say any of the five things that come to mind because they’re all a bit sleazy and he’s better than that. “Okay,” he hears himself say again. “Yeah, okay.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan smiles at him before reaching out and using two fingers to gently pet the space between Cinny’s ears.

It’s probably the most attractive thing Anakin’s seen in the last month.

He doesn’t want to think about what that says about him.

#asks #obikin #zookeeper au #prompt fill #this was fun but also for some reason it took me like 4 hours rip my writing brain #i had PLANS for writing today ffs!!!#i'm posting now later than i wanted but i'll probably reblog tomorrow at a better time #so no fun tags on this guy for now #but also thnak oyu for the song recs everyone!!!!!!!!#i am going to make a playlist of them all :D #yall are beautiful <3 #oh!! it's my friend amys bday and shes going to the zoo tomorrow so this silly shit is dedicated to her!!!#zoos are fun!!!#peoplewatching at zoos is even better!!#kids just say the wildest things

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aenwoedbeannaa · 2 years ago

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I'm Sorry || The Last of Us One-Shot

Summary: Joel had no idea that Sam had been bitten during the struggle, and he certainly had no idea how much it would hurt to see Ellie’s new friend gone, just like that.

Warnings: Child death, suicide, guns

Words: 1365

A/N: I saw this post asking for someone to write this, and I am a sucker for brooding surrogate fathers and their feisty surrogate daughters, so I did it. Major spoilers for The Last of Us S1E5 and for the video game.

“Kids must be sleeping in,” Joel said as he glanced toward the closed door.

“Bet they stayed up all night reading those comics,” Henry responded with a small smile. It had been so long since he had seen Sam so happy. He’d had so little to be happy about in his short life.

“Or that damn book of puns,” Joel chuckled despite himself.

“Oh, yeah,” Henry laughed. “Diarrhea. Hereditary. It runs in your jeans.” Henry looked truly happy–the kind of happy that Joel had not seen anyone be in twenty years. Except Ellie. Ellie was so full of brightness and life, despite being an orphan who had likely lost more than just her parents.

“I’m just glad Sam has a friend,” Sam said after a moment.

Joel tried to suppress a smile, but the corners of his lips tugged up just a little. It was easy to forget, somehow, that Ellie was just a child. A very special child, sure, but still just a child.

Joel heard Ellie scream and was on his feet in a fraction of a second. They’d searched the building, there were no infected here.

A moment later, Ellie burst through the door, Sam following behind her. But, it wasn’t Sam anymore. Where a sweet and innocent little boy had once stood, there was an infected child, teeth gnashing as he attempted to rip his friend to shreds.

“Fuck!” Henry yelled, voice cracking. He looked at Joel, already reaching for the pistol holstered at his waist. “NO!”

Joel looked at Henry, who now had a pistol of his own pointed at Joel. Joel raised his hands, but still moved towards Ellie. Sure, she couldn’t be infected, but he’d seen what these things could do. Even little children, once infected, could rip apart an adult human with ease.

He didn’t have much time to think about a plan, because all of a sudden, he heard the crack of a single gunshot and watched as Sam slumped to the ground next to Ellie. Her eyes glistened with tears, face frozen in shock.

Joel fought the urge to run to her, as Henry still had the gun. That had to be dealt with first.

“What did I just do?” Henry asked seemingly to no one, “What did I do?”

Joel had seen situations like this play out before and immediately took a step towards Henry. “Henry, give me the gun.” Ellie sniffled from where she still sat on the floor.

“Give him the gun, Henry, please,” Ellie pleaded from her place on the floor. Joel had never seen such panic on her face before. She looked almost desperate.

Henry did not seem to hear them. He just kept repeating himself, “What did I do? What did I do?”

Instead, he raised the gun to his own head. It happened so fast that Joel had no way to stop it.

“Henry, n–” Joel’s words were cut off by the crack of another single gunshot and the thud of Henry’s body hitting the floor.

Joel looked from Henry’s body to the body of the young boy, blood seeping from a single gunshot wound, face horribly disfigured and looking nothing like the face of the innocent little boy he had been only hours before.

Then he looked at Ellie. She was on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, tears flowing from her eyes. His eyes locked with hers, and he did not even think about what to do next. He rushed to her.

When he reached her, he lowered himself to the floor, pulling Ellie into a tight hug. He could feel her warm tears soaking into his shirt, and he was filled with anger. Not anger at Ellie, but anger that she lived in a world where her friends could be ripped away in a fraction of a second.

“I tried,” Ellie said through tears, “I tried healing him–my blood, my blood is supposed to be medicine… I thought, I thought–”

“Shh,” Joel said softly, pulling the girl tighter against his chest, “You did what you could, Ellie. I’m sure it’s… more complicated than that.”

“Joel,” she said his name as if it were some comfort to her. He was glad, at least, for that. But it hurt–it hurt to know that this girl lost yet another friend.

Joel stroked her hair, wishing he could take her pain away–wishing that she did not have to live in a world that was so cold and cruel. “At least he spent his last hours believing he was going to be ok. He didn’t spend it scared.”

Ellie’s face scrunched in thought, and she sighed, “Yeah… Yeah, I guess you’re right.” But then her face fell, “But I told him I would stay awake with him. I promised.”

Joel shook his head, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything, Ellie.”

“C’mon, baby girl, let’s get out of here,” Joel finally said. They needed to leave, for Ellie’s benefit as well as his own. But he did not let her go. Instead, he gathered her in his arms and stood up.

“Joel,” Ellie said, still a spark in her voice, “I can still walk, you know.” There was his Ellie, already trying to lighten the mood.

“I know,” Joel confirmed, eyes sweeping over the room. Sam lay on the floor where he’d fallen after Henry’s single gunshot, and Henry lay only a few feet away, that single deadly gunshot wound in his head. Ellie did not deserve to see things like that.

Ellie lifted her head from where she had buried it in his chest and opened her mouth to speak, but Joel stopped her, “Don’t look, Ellie,” he pleaded, “Just look at me, baby. Look at me.”

“No, Joel,” Ellie responded. “We should… We should bury them. We can’t just leave them here.”

Joel’s heart broke. After all she had experienced, all she had seen, she still wanted to bury her friends–still wanted to show them that kindness. Overwhelming guilt washed over him then, too. He’d been so cold to her. Tears welled in his eyes despite himself–he hadn’t bothered with things like crying for what seemed like a lifetime now.

Ellie must have noticed, because she squeezed him tighter. “I’m sorry, Joel. About Henry… your friend.”

“It’s not your fault, baby girl, it’s not your fault,” he said as he placed her back on the ground, still with her back facing the carnage.

Dammit, he was breaking all of his own rules. He knew nothing good could come from this. Caring for people had not exactly worked out well for him in the past. His only option was to do everything in his power to get Ellie to the Fireflies, where she could be truly safe.

“Ok,” he finally nodded his agreement. “But you wait here while I get them outside.”

“You got it, boss man.”

The corners of his lips tugged up just a little once again. Shit, this girl really had something special about her, beyond her immunity. Face returning to his usual blank slate, he forced himself to look at the bodies of their new, now dead, friends.

“Ellie?” he asked softly, placing his hands on her shoulders and crouching down so his head was even with hers.

“Joel?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“About Tess…” he began, choking on the words, “You were right. That wasn’t your fault, either.”

Ellie’s face fell, her eyes welling with tears again, “It still feels like my fault.”

Joel’s heart shattered at that. It was his fault she felt like it was her fault. He was the one who treated her as if she caused Tess’s death. He couldn’t let her carry that guilt with her. That guilt that she did not deserve.

“Oh, baby girl,” he said, pulling her into a hug once more, “It was the world’s fault, not yours. It was never yours.” He breathed, preparing himself to apologize for the first time in what felt like forever, "I'm sorry... for making you feel like it was."

“But what if it's you next?” she asked through tears.

“Kiddo,” he said, shaking his head, “Lot’s of infected and lots more people have tried and they haven’t had any luck yet.” He needed her not to worry. She was just a child.

His child.

#tlou spoilers #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us spoilers #the last of us fanfiction #joel and ellie

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 3 months ago

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Regally Smitten

chapter 5: the coronation

synopsis: A future king and his servant are bound by their forbidden love. With the odds stacked against them, and a jealous brother out for blood, will their love prevail? Or will history repeat itself?

chapter word count: ~4.2

warnings: homophobia (specifically religious homophobia, this is a period piece so these beliefs are a reflection of the time period being portrayed, and the characters themselves, and do not reflect my personal beliefs. please read with caution and remember to take care of yourself. ily.) descriptions of violence, main character injury (no main character death), foul language, suggestive themes, brief mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. one mention of suicidal thoughts (but no action)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of stray kids in reality. this is a fanfiction and should be treated as such. this is not me “shipping” them, these are simply characters based on real life people. i don’t need the minsung antis coming for me.

authors note: only one chapter left after this! hehe

series masterlist • main masterlist

Han’s heart shattered. His knees buckled. He gripped the stone wall he was leaning against to avoid crumpling to the floor. Of course, this was the right decision on Minho’s part. Obviously he had to choose Lady Astrid. But Han was unprepared for the pain he would feel of hearing it spoken aloud like that. I choose Lady Astrid. The words kept ringing in his mind. He thought he may never forget the way they sounded, the way they hung in the stale air around them. Tears filled Han’s eyes at the finality of it all. He knew the approaching wedding, he knew their fate. But everything felt so much more real in this moment. He would never be with Minho. Would never kiss him. Would never fall asleep next to him, looking into those chocolate eyes. The pieces of his heart splintered and poked at the surrounding tissue. He bled internally.

"Obviously I choose Lady Astrid." Minho announced. "as there is nothing going on between my squire and I."

Nothing. What they had was nothing.

Rian didn’t seem convinced. "Then shall we get rid of him?" he asked, looking over in Han’s direction. "People have been executed for less."

Minho’s blood was boiling. It was bubbling under the surface of his skin and felt like it was about to burst out of his ears. He was so enraged he could barely hear. It sounded like he was underwater, like Rian was screaming at him from the surface. "Execute him? For what?" Minho asked.

"I dunno." Rian said, looking around at the council members. "For… propositioning the king."

"That’s a lie!" Minho snapped.

Rian held his hands up in surrender. "I saw what I saw, brother. You were holding hands. Someone had to start it."

"We were not holding hands." Minho said through clenched teeth. "I told you, I will not rule like my father. We are not barbarians. We don’t kill for fun."

"Butt this isn’t for fun." Rian argued. "It’s for the sake of the kingdom. We can’t have his kind in the castle. He’s unholy. An abomination."

"Who is king here?!" Minho was raising his voice now, his patience growing thinner and thinner by the second. But Rian wasn’t scared. This is what he wanted. Let Minho lose control. Let the council see how he truly feels.

"No one yet, brother." Rian said calmly. "Not until tomorrow."

"Assign me a new squire, put Han back in the kitchens if you must, but we are not killing him. He did nothing wrong." Minho took a few steps closer to the door. "That’s an order. From your future king." He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him, not once looking in Han’s direction.

——

Minho felt like death the following morning. A new squire had woken him up, some boy named Sam. Though there wasn’t much waking up involved. Minho hadn’t slept. He waited, hiding in the halls while the council members headed back to their chambers. Once he made sure Han made it back to his room safely, and then once he checked and double checked that he was still safe in his room, he finally allowed himself to go to bed. But sleep eluded him. He replayed the council meeting over and over in his head. Was he convincing enough? Did they believe him? He hoped they had.

Had Han believed him?

His body felt heavy at the thought. He was sure he heard sniffling coming from the other side of Han’s door the night before. And Minho hated himself for causing that pain. He should have just kept his feelings to himself. Had a little self control. He knew where they could end up. He was just glad they we both alive. Though he wasn’t sure for how much longer that would be true. He just had to make it through the coronation. Once he was officially king, his brother could do nothing about it.

He pulled his clothes on, his body almost unaware of itself as his heart yearned for Han. He was just going through the motions. This was his life now. The rest of his existence being spent on autopilot as his soul tried to forget the way Han’s lips felt against his own, the way he stuffed his cheeks with food. "you’re cute with your cheeks filled with food like that. Like a little chipmunk."

He pulled his boots on, trying to tie the laces, his fingers fumbling. He clenched his jaw as squire Sam brushed through his hair. His mind filled with images of Han’s tiny hand holding the same brush, delicately detangling while Minho bathed.

He let squire Sam help him with his vest, as Han had done many times before. The whole room reminded him of Han. Everything in it had been touched by him in some way. Minho swore the room even smelled like him.

— —

"How do you know this information is true?" Erin asked, his arms crossed.

Hyunjin thought the Hand of the king was a scary looking man. Very big and tall and muscley. Hyunjin felt small under his intense stare. And it didn’t help that they were in Hyunjin and Han’s shared closet of a bedroom, which Erin took up most of the space.

"One of the maids found this in prince Rian’s room." Hyunjin said, pulling out the flower embroidered undergarment from behind his back. He had managed to get it from Meredith early this morning. He handed it to the large man. “I guess there’s no concrete proof that it belongs to Lady Astrid, but the flowers and the initials sewn into the fabric seem to point that way."

Erin was quiet, holding the item in his large hand.

"I-I’m not trying to start trouble, honest." Hyunjin said, his voice cracking. "I’m just worried for my friend’s safety. We can’t go up against prince Rian. I just thought that this might help Han keep his life.."

Erin grunted. "Tell no one about this conversation." He ordered, shoving the clothing item into his jacket, and exiting the room.

——

The throne room was full to the max. Minho could hear the people mingling, their voices all blending together, sounding like a dull roar on the other side of the door. The future king was alone in this room. Everyone else was out there, waiting for him.

He paced back and forth, his boots scuffling on the stone floor. He could do this. Everything would be fine. He would go out there and say his vows, wear his crown, and mingle with the people, his future wife hanging on his arm. Minho groaned. Carding his fingers through his hair, he sighed. Is this truly what he wanted? He turned down a prime opportunity to leave all of this behind and start anew, somewhere else, with his beloved. But, as much as his heart wanted that, his conscience wouldnt let him leave his people with Rian as their king. The kingdom would descend into madness.

Minho's stomach turned with nerves. Surely it was almost time, right? Minho just wanted to get this day over with. He wanted to move on. He needed to focus on what was next, keep moving, dont let the pain catch up to him. Being alone in this room with only his thoughts for company was not helping.

Just then the door opened. Erin's large body filled the frame as he stepped inside.

"Your Grace." the large man bowed. "They are almost ready for you."

"Good." Minho said, taking a deep breath and standing up straight, putting his best kingly facade on. "I’m ready to get this over."

Minho made for the door, but Erin put his hand out to stop him. Minho looked up at the large man, confusion on his face.

"My apologies Your Grace, but there is something you need to hear first." Erin said, reaching his hand into the inside pocket of his coat.

----

The crowd was massive. Han didnt think he had ever seen so many people in the throne room at one time. King Heinrich had been the only king that had ever served since Han was alive, so this is the first coronation he would bear witness to. And both of the princes were not at marrying age until recently, so there were no royal weddings to witness either. This was the first large gathering that Han had been apart of. And it was starting to get to him. The large group of people, all confined into one space, people brushing against him as they made their way past, the loud roar of the collective voices, was making Han feel panicky. His heart was beating hard, his hands clenched into fists. He focused on his breathing, inhaling for a few seconds, holding it, and then slowly exhaling.

Han had been in a little bit of a dark place for a while. Trying to come to terms with his feelings for an unobtainable man. And then the council meeting the previous night had made everything worse. Hearing Minho say that what they had was nothing, was some of the worst pain that Han had ever felt. Han was one half of that relationship, he experienced everything just as Minho had, but did he? Had Minho ever really liked him? Or was he just something to use to pass the time? A conquest to fill his boring princely life until he had a wife? And then what was to come of it? If they hadn’t been almost caught, would Minho continue to see Han on the side? Han didn’t want to be anyone's second choice. He deserved his fairy tale love. But it obviously wasnt with Minho.

Han felt embarrassed. Hyunjin was right about not letting things get too far. He was right about how it was dangerous to develop feelings for someone as high up as the prince. But Han couldn’t help it, he tried. He tried and he failed. But Hyunjin wasnt an I told you so kind of person. He just held Han all night as he sobbed. He forced him out of bed this morning, and made sure he made it to the kitchens for his duties. And that’s how he was now in the throne room, standing at the end of a table, refilling goblets of wine, and clearing away dirty plates.

Just then, a door on the far end of the throne room opened wide. The roar of the crowd quickly died down to a soft murmur. The hand of the king, ser Erin, stepped out of the room first, followed by a weary looking Minho. Han’s eyes were still swollen from all the crying he had done the night before, so he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things correctly, but Minho looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Though Han had just seen him hours before. The prince looked rough as he approached the front of the dais, walking slowly, almost as if he were walking to the gallows instead of walking to his throne.

His mother and his brother who were sat on either side of the throne, stood up and bowed slightly when he approached. Ser Erin stood off to the side, and Minho stood directly in front of his golden throne. The old man from the council meeting was dressed in elegant robes of purple as he approached the steps of the dais. He carried a long fur cloak, draped over his arms, and in his hands was a large pillow, cushioning the heavy weight of the golden crown. At the base of the dais, the man bowed as much as he could with his arms full, and then he ascended the stairs. Once at the top, he stood next to Minho and turned to face the crowd.

"Today is a glorious day." He announced. "Today is a day that we fill the void left by his late majesty, King Heinrich, may his soul rest in peace."

The crowd gave a soft applause. The old man continued. "Today is the day that we crown a new king, and a mighty good one at that."

The man gestured for Ser Erin to approach. He did and he delicately took the pillow form the man's arms. The man then draped the cloak over Minho’s shoulders. "The cloak of many kings." The man announced. "Part of the Lee dynasty since the early ages." The man then, using only his fingertips, lifted the crown off of its pillow.

"If you would, Your Grace, please kneel." he said, his elderly voice shaky, but kind.

Minho did as he was asked and dropped to one knee in front of the man, who delicately placed the crown atop Minho's head. Han thought he had never seen such a beautiful, yet heartbreaking sight. Minho looked perfect up there. Looked like he truly was meant to be a king. Tge crown fit him perfectly, and the cloak only just brushed the floor as Minho stood. Han thought he looked so handsome, but at the same time, that crown was the thing standing in their way. The only thing keeping them apart.

"There is nothing going on between my squire and I."

Well, maybe it wasn’t the only thing keeping them apart. Han had to remind himself that Minho was raised for this, that Han had only known Minho for a few short months. How could he really know his true feelings? His true intentions? It all felt so real though.

"Your Grace, do you so swear to protect the realm, no matter the cost?" the man asked.

"I do so swear." Minho said, his voice slightly shaken.

"Do you so swear to rule justly, and mercifully?"

"I do so swear." Minho's voice was growing progressively more watery. He knew the next and final oath. Had been dreading it and practicing his answer.

"Do you so swear to protect the church and enforce all of its laws?" the man asked. Minho knew this was a standard question. The standard oath that every king had taken for centuries. But he was not every king that came before him. He didn’t agree with all of the churches teachings. Specifically how the church felt on same sex couples. But he knew that there was only one answer he could give. Any other answer would draw attention, draw speculation, put Han in danger. Minho's eyes brimmed with tears at the thought of Han. He blinked hard, and put the boy out of his mind. Minho swallowed, and with a watery voice said: "I do so swear."

"Finally, does anyone have any objection to this man becoming king?" the old man announced to the room. This question, though customary, very rarely had any answer. No one in their right mind would stand up at a coronation and explain why they thought the future king would fail. Well, no one except maybe Rian.

The price stood, clearing his throat. "I may have an objection." Rian announced. There were a few gasps from the crowd, the murmuring grew louder. Han thought he might throw up in the wine pitcher. This had to be about him. What other reason would Rian have to refuse? Minho was a perfect match for king. Rian had no other ammunition. Han braced himself for impact. This was it. Rian was going to announce to basically the whole kingdom, that their king was in love with a man. Their execution would soon follow.

Minho turned to face his brother. Rian had his usual smug look on his face, Minho narrowed his eyes. "You don’t want to do this, brother." Minho said quietly, so that only those on the dais may hear.

"Oh, I think I do." Rian replied, venom lacing his voice. "I know what I saw. You leave me no choice. The people of this realm deserve to know their true king."

"Please." Minho begged. "Don’t do this. You’re my brother."

"Brothers only by blood." Rian said, before he stepped in front of his brother to address the crowd.

Han noticed that Ser Erin had slipped off of the dais, but Han didn’t see where he ran off to. Han thought it was strange, that the hand of the king wouldn’t remain by the king's side when there was surely danger to his safety. Once Rian says this out loud, the people will revolt against their king.

"My brother has a secret he has been hiding from you all." Rian announced to the silent room. The crowd hung on his every word. The air was thick with anticipation.

"Rian. Don’t ." Minho pleaded one last time.

"He is in love." The whole crowd had a sigh of relief. They ooed and awed, thinking surely that prince Rian was talking about Lady Astrid, who was stood atop the dais as well, off to the far left.

"Ah you did not let me finish." Rian said, holding up a finger to hush the crowd. "He is in love, but it is not with Lady Astrid." He motioned to the woman. "He is in love with his squire. A young man named Han." The crowd erupted into a collection of shocked gasps, and words of disbelief. Rian had put emphasis on the word man and really drove his point home by pointing Han out in the crowd. Everyone turned collectively to look at him, their faces filled with disgust. Some of them looked downright mad.

Han’s breathing came in ragged gasps now, his legs and arms starting to go numb. Minho could see Han from the dais, everyone was looking at him, shouting hurtful things in his direction. Han looked like he was about to pass out, or cry, or both. It repulsed Minho, how his citizens could treat other people with such hatred, how his own brother could stir up such hatred, especially directed at someone as pure and wholesome as Han. It made Minho very angry.

"You don’t expect anyone to believe that, do you?” Minho scoffed.

Everyone turned to face the dais once more, turning their attention away from Han. Slowly, he was able to regain control of his breathing, but he wasn’t sure for how long. He felt a gentle tug on the back of his tunic. He turned to see Ser Erin. The large man gestured for Han to follow him. Ser Erin led Han to the edge of the room, his back against the stone wall, and Erin stood in front of him. Erin was so big that Han thought no one could even see that someone was standing behind him. And that comforted Han in a way.

"Should we tell them about your previous squire?" Rian asked.

"There’s no need to make up more lies." Minho argued. "We all know what you’re doing." Minho crossed his arms, looking annoyed.

"Please, do explain." Rian said, his voice smug. His face, very punchable.

"This is obviously a last ditch effort to get the throne." Minho said.

Rian laughed. "This is no such thing. I am merely a servant of god who feels that the people should know the truth about who their king likes to warm his bed with at night."

Minho clenched his jaw. He had never once seen Rian attend church, and frankly, it was no one’s fucking business who Minho wanted to hold at night. He could feel his skin flush with rage.

"If it’s not an attempt at the throne, then you are trying to ruin my relationship with my Lady." Minho gestured to Lady Astrid. "Tell me brother, are you jealous?"

Rian’s smile dropped quickly. His demeanor shifting from smug to almost nervous. Han felt like he was watching a drama. Felt like he was no longer in the room, but somewhere else, observing the scene that was unfolding. Had Minho found out about prince Risn’s affair?

"Jealous?" Rian said, trying to sound argumentative but coming across as anxious. "Why would I be jealous?"

"Oh you’re right." Minho agreed, nodding. "To be jealous means you envy someone else for something that they have and you do not. You’re right. You’re right. Jealous is the wrong word to use. You can’t be jealous, because you already have her. Don’t you?" Again the crowd gasped, and the room filled with hushed murmurs. "Why don’t you tell everyone how you have been sleeping with my Lady behind my back?"

Lady Astrid looked shocked. Rian looked between her, and Minho, and the crowd. Unsure of what to say next. "You have no proof of that. That’s absurd!"

Minho turned slightly and reached for something that was laying on the floor behind the throne. He pulled out a jacket, Ser Erin’s jacket to be exact. And hiding under the jacket was Lady Astrid’s brassiere. Minho pulled it out and held it up. "So you don’t know how this was found under your bed in your chambers?" Minho asked. the murmuring of the crowd grew louder.

"You’re her future husband!" Rian yelled, feeling backed into a corner. "Of course you have access to her undergarments."

"Are you also accusing me of premarital relations?" Minho asked. "Could the witnesses please come forward." Minho announced to the room. Two bodies pushed through the crowd, pausing at the bottom of the steps and bowing. Han peeked around Erin’s large frame to see Hyunjin and Meredith at the base of the dais.

"Thank You." Minho smiled down at them. "Could you please explain to everyone what happened?"

Hyunjin and Meredith exchanged worried glances with one another. "It’s alright." Minho said. "I promise no harm will come to you. You may speak freely."

"I- I was cleaning the prince’s room." Meredith started. "Me and a few of the other maids. And I found that under his bed." Meredith said quietly, pointing to the undergarment in question.

"And Meredith confided in me about it." Hyunjin’s voice filled Han’s ears and he worried for his friend. "When I found out about it, I took the information to Ser Erin. because I felt the king should know the truth."

“And I very much appreciate your loyalty." Minho praised. He turned to face Rian . "So, brother, are you saying that the entire maid's staff is lying? Are you saying that Ser Erin, who has been hand of the king longer than you and I have been alive, are you saying that he doesn’t properly vet his sources before taking action?"

Rian stumbled over his words. Not really saying anything, as he had no defense to stand on.

Minho turned to the crowd. "Who do you believe?" he yelled, so that even the people in the back could hear him. "Do you believe the lies he spews? Or do you believe the evidence?" Minho held the undergarment above his head. The crowd started yelling things back, supporting their king and calling for Rian's head.

"What should his punishment be?" he asked. The townspeople yelled a variety of things but the one that kept repeating in Han’s ears, was beheading. They wanted him executed, no doubt. But they specifically wanted him taken to the guillotine.

Minho turned to his brother again, who looked panicked. His eyes looking every which way, searching for an exit.

"People have been executed for less." minho said, quoting his brother from the night before.

The crowd was cheering on their new king, even though the ceremony had not been completed, people saw Minho as their leader. They wanted him to be avenged. Minho turned to the crowd again, smiling down at them, but feeling sick. Could he execute his own brother? He vowed to himself he would not rule like his father, and he vowed to his people just moments ago that he would rule mercifully. But a part of Minho, a part that he wasn’t proud of, thought that Rian deserved this. Minho's previous squire had been beheaded after Rian suggested it to his father, who could never turn down a good execution. And Rian would have executed Han in a heartbeat and made Minho watch. His brother was a vile, evil human being and he deserved this. Even though Minho may not feel it was right in his heart, the people would accept no other outcome. They were yelling at him to have him executed right there on the spot. They were yelling at Minho to use the sword at his side, which had never seen blood before, to behead his brother right there in front of everyone.

Minho searched the crowd for Ser Erin, hoping that he had successfully found Han. After the Hand had shown Minho the evidence, he knew that things could get ugly. So he told Ser Erin to protect Han at all costs and to not worry about anything else. Minho searched desperately, his eyes squinting in the evening light streaming through the stained glass windows, but he couldn’t see them.

And as he searched, Rian took his opportunity, his brother's attention was elsewhere, the crowd was too busy yelling out their ideas to kill him, and Ser Erin was nowhere to be found. Rian snuck up behind his kingly brother, and slipped the dagger from its sheathe.

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

#Regally Smitten #stray kids #stray kids lee know #lee know skz #lee know stray kids #stray kids lee minho #skz lee know #skz minho #stray kids minho #han stray kids #han jisung angst #han jisung fanfic #han jisung stray kids #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #han jisung #skz minsung #stray kids minsung #hyunjins orange slice too

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rbtlvr · 1 year ago

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'translation' for chapter 3 of (someone help me) understand what's going on inside my mind

… What’s going on?

Where… where is he?

Who is he?

Everything’s… weird. Dark. He’s not… scared or worried, though. Maybe he should be, but he isn’t. He doesn’t know how. Not yet.

And besides… this isn’t a bad dark, anyway. It’s not dark like inky black void swallowing him up, not dark like everything he’s ever known disappearing as he cracks into pieces.

No. It’s dark like the lair at 3am. Dark like knowing the younger version of himself and his family is sleeping just in the other room, safe and happy. That kind of dark.

Dark like safety, like burrowing under the blankets because they’re warm and cozy and there’s no need to be on guard, not anymore. Not here.

Slowly, slowly, like waking up from a deep sleep, it comes back to him. And as it does, so does the fear. Because good dark or not, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be aware, shouldn’t be alive – and yet, he is.

Or… he thinks he is, at least. He doesn’t… really remember anything between then and now, just… vague sensations. Pain, but not physical. Grief, regret, guilt. I’m sorry, Sprout, I’m SORRY –

And then this.

It reminds him of the mindscape, he decides – before Sprout could access it, anyway. He can feel the emptiness down to his soul. No one else can get here. It’s just him.

And then, suddenly –

“What… is this place?”

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. The voice sounds – so familiar but it shouldn’t, it can’t be –

“Wait – how did you get here?” he asks, staring at Sprout across from him who’s young again, a kid again, with his arm – his real arm, not the metal one –

And the kid panics. Starts screaming. Because – because it’s not Sprout. He knows that, and not just because Sprout would’ve recognized him by now. No, he can feel it in his gut. Like he’s connected to the kid somehow.

It’s weird as hell, but he has more pressing matters to worry about right now.

“Whoa, hey! I’m not gonna hurt you.” He raises his hands carefully – letting the kid know he comes in peace. Hopefully, anyway. It seems to work, because the kid’s scream trails off, and he can see the exact moment when the fear turns to confusion.

Their eyes meet, and just like that, he knows. Doesn’t know how, doesn’t know why – it’s just the same gut feeling that told him the kid wasn’t Sprout.

“It’s… Poptart, right?” He says it like a question, even though it’s really not. And the kid’s face – Poptart’s face – scrunches up, tears rising to his eyes. Scared again, but not of him. Just – how is this happening? Why is this happening, how is he here, how –

“It’s – it’s you…” Poptart says, and promptly bursts into tears. He’s overwhelmed, understandably so. He hasn’t heard much at this point, but he’s heard enough – there’s awe, flickering alongside the confusion in Poptart’s chest.

“Oh, kid…” he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t think twice of it before kneeling down and pulling Poptart into his arms. It’s second nature, comforting him. Almost like comforting Sprout, except not at all. Almost like comforting himself, if he was a different person who hadn’t been through everything he has. He must be imagining it, but he could swear he feels both sides of the hug, somehow.

“You’re okay,” he says softly, and the kid’s arms tighten around him. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

There’s a flood of wonder that’s almost his but not really, because how-? How is he here? But he doesn’t exactly know the answer to that either, so he doesn’t say anything. Neither of them do, not until the dream starts to fade out.

“How?” Poptart asks, clutching at his arms desperately, like he doesn’t want to let go.

“I don’t know.” He wishes he had a better answer. He wishes he knew much of anything right now. “I don’t know, I’m –”

And just like that,

Poptart’s gone.

And so is he, though not in the same way as before. Drifting, only half-aware, but still there, somehow – his cut-off sentence still heavy in his mouth, until the next time he wakes.

“Sorry…”

#talk tag #adding this for the reverse text ty ell for the suggestion LMAO #felt bad bc ppl were having trouble reading it + getting the site or smth im not sure? but hopefully this works better #not putting this in the tags bc its not an update really la;jfdlksajfkd

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confessedlyfannish · 3 months ago

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If Danny had a sense of self-preservation, he wouldn't have moved to Gotham in the first place. But he did, because he doesn't.

This is for a multitude of reasons.

Reason #1: The exchange program was only a year. What kind of damage could happen in a year?

Reason #2: He didn't expect he would meet Damian, a sour patch kid taken human form, who made him want to tear his hair out for months until Sam wondered out loud during one of their weekly video calls if Damian had a bed in his rent-free apartment in Danny's head, and Danny had blushed harder than the time they'd been caught making out by her grandmother and Sam had smirked and...

Well.

The point being, now Danny wants to stay.

Now, while Reasons #1 & #2 heavily depended on the expectation of nothing happening, which, as any reasonable person would point out, is not a solid foundation with which to approach a scenario, Reason #3 was the reason why the inanity of Reasons #1 & #2 didn't particularly matter.

Thank god for Reason #3, Danny thinks, as he takes a bullet to the chest in a Gotham alley.

"Aw shit!" The perpetrator says, his gun hitting the ground with a sharp clang. That's a hard left into regret, Danny thinks, until his would-be-should-be murderer screams.

"I didn't mean to! Please! Guh!" a meaty thwack followed by a dull thud signals a body hitting the ground. And then a gloved hand is wiping Danny's hair out of his face and patting his cheek, another pressing down on hole in his chest.

"Please, please, please," a voice mutters roughly, unendingly.

Fuck you, Reason #3, Danny thinks. He abruptly sits upright and opens glowing green eyes, immediately focusing on Robin who violently flinches back.

"Child," he acknowledges with a slight incline of his head, because turnabout is fair play.

Robin's mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

"You—" he starts.

Danny holds a hand up in the universal sign for him to wait. He arranges his features into an expression of delicate distaste as he coughs wetly into his hand a few times before offering it to Robin, unfurling his palm to reveal the bullet.

Reason #3, everybody.

"Are you seeing this?" what can only be a member of the Batfamily asks incredulously from Robin's comm. Danny wipes away the blood trailing from his mouth with the same disdain.

Rather than taking it, Robin stares at the bullet in his hand. Danny raises his eyebrows and lets it fall to the ground.

It's when he goes to stand up that Robin seems to unfreeze.

"Wait!" His hands go to Danny's chest. Danny catches them midair.

"You can't—don't—he needs a—" Robin is flustered, which Danny definitely does not expect from a member of the Batfamily, but attributes to his intimidation factor.

"The vessel is fine," he says shortly, dropping Robin's hands in order to yank his collar down.

"Cancelling the ambulance" a woman's voice says. "Setting a perimeter," another answers. "Robin, focus. Find out what he wants."

"What do you want?" Robin demands, eyes fixated on flesh slowly knitting together.

"Not like that, Robin, come on."

Danny sighs. "You humans labor under the impression you have something worth offering." He pointedly takes in the grimy alley that surrounds them.

He can hear Robin's teeth gnashing. "What do you want," he grits out, "To release your vessel?"

"Robin," someone warns, but the boy only hesitates for a moment before stepping closer. "I am of greater strength than the body you currently inhabit. If a vessel is what you seek—"

Robin's comms burst into protest and Danny fights back a grimace, mind racing. He never intended to maintain the ruse but now he's stuck, damn it, and a large part of him is reeling that the Bats are apparently so self-sacrificial as to offer their life for a complete stranger.

"The contract has already been made," is what he lands on.

"Without the vessel's consent," Robin argues, ignoring someone in his comms telling him to stop talking, now.

"I have just spared his mortal soul," Danny says, gesturing to the hole in his shirt. "Without my assistance, he would be mine. You would categorize that as a mercy," he wrinkles his nose again at the alley, "I assume."

"Never let Danny die in Aruba," someone mutters. Huh, they remember his name.

Danny feels crappy about this next move, but he's got places to be.

"If I am mistaken, this can rectified..." he says, piercing his tongue with a fang and letting some blood dribble out of his mouth. Robin jolts.

"Don't!" he says, so panicked that Danny goes from feeling crappy to just awful.

"Robin," Batman lands between them, a strong arm sweeping the sidekick a few steps back. Robin glares at Batmna.

"Your Highness," Batman says, bowing his head just enough. Danny would snort at the bare-bones sign of deference if Phantom were the type.

"Balance Keeper," he acknowledges instead.

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement," Batman says, "Regarding the terms of your possession of the vessel."

"I have no desire to spend time on this plane," Danny says nonchalantly. "The vessel is yours, to do with as you please."

Well not as they please, he has a boyfriend. Someone with a way better sense of humor than these two still gets a kick out of it, laughing in both Batman and Robin's ear.

"But he will not die," Robin says. "Ever." Danny steps closer, and Batman's arm barring Robin stiffens.

"Well," Danny says to them both, letting a grim (ha!) smile creep onto his face. "Perhaps if he asks nicely."

And then Danny faceplants onto Batman's kevlar, going limp as a noodle.

"Don't shoot!" he shrieks a few moments later, flailing in Batman's bridal carry.

"What—huh—" he pats at his chest. He looks up at Batman and over at Robin with blue eyes, both holding themselves tensely.

"Dude," he wriggles his finger through the hole over his heart. "I loved this shirt."

Later, Batman tells Robin they have a problem. Based on his language, it appears the King has figured out the relationship between Damian and his vessel. What he intends to do with that knowledge is what they must now figure out.

DP x DC Prompt.

Deadserious

>Danny had a problem. He thought he handled it well. He couldn't tell his civillian boyfriend of his half-dead status.

He definitely couldn't let him find out by being summoned by some culty wannabes who wanted to rule the world.

Easy solution: Volunteer to be the sacrifice, turn his eyes green, and act like a Royal prick and powerful being. Get rescued by one of Gothams 50 vigilantes. And claim no memory.

Boom, secret identity underwraps.

He didn't expect everyone to treat him so fragile after.

Damian also had a problem. That problem, being his civilian boyfriend, was obviously possessed by a spirit of the ghastly ghost king and was utterly clueless about it.

And it was all his fault.

Danny Fenton was the next June Moore/ Enchantress. Except he was hosting one of the most powerful beings in the universe.

And that lovable idiot had no damn idea about it.

#Danny: gee Robin is such a sweet caring hero #Everybody else: wow robin is extremely compromised...is this twue wuv?#dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #deadserious #damian wayne #danny fenton #ghost king danny #misunderstandings

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remscorner · 2 years ago

Text

One of your playthings (slight NSFW)

Contains: fluff, childhood friends, Fem!Reader, Sebastian being a simp, drug-use, alcohol, mentions of NSFW

Beginning of junior year flashback

"You hear? Y/n's coming back to the valley for this year. Air is tense in the city with the bomb threats so determining the length of this war, she might stay for longer."

Sebastian's interest was piqued. Only for a moment, did his focus from his desk stray.

It was early morning and class hasn't even started yet. The teacher was still absent, about ten more minutes of idle chatting with one another until the class would have to settle down.

The town playboy glanced past his trio to where Haley whispered rumours of the heart of the town to Alex, a hand covering the gap between the two. Though it did little help with concealing their hushed conversation.

Sebastian thought for a moment.

It wouldn't be too bad to have her back. Especially since he felt so comfortable around her when they were kids. He wondered if she was the same ball of sunshine as she was back then. The one that wasn't only warm and bright, but angry with emotion and a menace to those who defied her.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his cheeks. Surely, the girls in class would swarm around her considering how much they adored the farmer's granddaughter. She had always gotten along with them as children, even Haley.

Glancing curiously, Sebastian eyed Abigail who had heard the whispers across the room.

Excitement reached her shoulders as they raised, now fidgeting with a string that had fallen from her shirt. She became antsy, each time someone had entered, her eyes would stray in the direction of it, hoping for someone she missed to have her eyes lay on.

Locking eyes with Sam and Sebastian, she realized how similar their thoughts had been. "I wonder what she's like now," Abby mutters sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck.

Sam sighs in return, smiling with cheeks that burnt pink. He felt relieved he wasn't the only one thinking about her.

"Probably the same. Innocent. Polite. Short. Approachable-"

"Or confident, easy-going, taller than most of the girls in class and hot as shit- holy shit cute farm girl is so attractive!" Leah's voice consumes the room as the classroom door slams shut.

She was rushing to her seat, collecting herself as she ran into the town's favourite menace.

Though she was still taller than Y/n, there was no doubt the returning beauty was a second to the tallest girls in class.

"Huh? Leah, you saw her?" Emily stands in her seat when the door suddenly opens. A familiar, less child-like-looking face walks in. Her eyes are half-lidded and she yawns, not caring to conceal her exhaustion and voice.

Once she opens her tired eyes, they scan the room as attention is on her. She remains in her spot, the corners of her lips raising just a little before she lets them form a smile. "Been a while," Y/n says casually with a shrug. As if he's been expecting it, Sebastian glanced over at Abby, tensing up as tears reach her eyes.

"Y/n!" She bursts out all of a sudden, standing from her chair, the legs of it scraping against the floor.

"I missed you so much!" Abigail wailed out. She runs through the maze of desks to wrap her arms around her. Y/n snickers softly and gently pat her head.

Eventually, the girls have begun to crowd around her just like Sebastian predicted would happen. Surrounding her with hugs so tender and surging with love.

They truly missed her presence.

____

A few months into the year

During the time Y/n spent in Pelican town, Sebastian paid little to no attention to her.

They weren't that close, and neither did they see a reason for getting close. Only small gestures like nodding to one another when locking eyes, exchanging notes during group lessons where they were paired up, and brief greetings when they'd bump into each other outside of school.

They had a mutual agreement, one made with a silence that they didn't have to get along as well as they did when they were children. Whether or not they were mere acquaintances, there was a comfortable air between them that never lifted.

Still, their situation didn't stop either of them from noting the differences in their childhood to who they were now.

Sebastian often wondered what life was like in the city to make her sweet seem more like sultry. Sure Y/n was still as kind and open-minded as ever... but the vibe had switched from someone innocent and sheepish to someone experienced and confident.

She was loud, her laughter often reaching the halls of the school and her voice bouncing off the walls in the room so stunningly. Her demeanour was laid back, but even there were times when she'd fool off in the middle of class. Of course, some things had never changed... simply put, Y/n remained as clumsy and reckless as ever.

Besides Sebastian's occasional thoughts of her, Y/n too couldn't help but study her childhood friend.

His differences were much bigger than hers. He seemed more confident in himself than he was back then. Smug, almost disgustingly. He had a bored look on his face constantly, only ever forming a smirk when he found interest in a girl he wanted in his bed.

Y/n couldn't say he changed for the better, but at least he wasn't as self-deprecating as she remembered him to be as a child. At least he knew his worth. Right?

"Hey Y/n, if you see Sebastian, tell him me and Sam are gonna use his motorcycle for a little joyride to the liquor shop at the edge of the countryside. We'll be back in a jiffy!" Sam gave Y/n a head pat.

It was Leah's birthday party and the whole high school was invited to an Airbnb she saved up for.

The party consisted of other small-town teenagers who went to the same school, so everyone pretty much knew everyone.

"You sure he's gonna like that?" Y/n scoffed with a snicker as she watched Abby and Sam skip off happily. Abigail reply's back, cheerfully. "Nope!"

Shaking her head, Y/n brushes off the encounter and noted the favour mentally. Keep a look out for Sebastian, if she bumps into him that is. Passing by the sea of bodies, her nose scrunched with displease as it reeked of alcohol.

Sure, she had a few shots herself... but it simply wasn't her thing.

Playing with the lighter in the pocket of her zip-up, Y/n smirks lightly to herself as she's relieved to feel the small container of weed still in her grasp, and the packaging of flavoured rolling paper.

If she had one thing in common with Sebastian, it'd be the fact they were both stoners.

He just didn't know she was too.

Sneaking off into an empty bedroom, Y/n searched for a bathroom to open a window and light a joint in. She was feeling sober and things were never as exciting when she was making good choices at a party. Besides, Emily and Haley promised they'd be the designated drivers for when they leave in the morning so what's the use of keeping stable when Y/n didn't have to?

Pausing for a moment, Y/n felt her fingers tingle with restlessness and decided she needed the weed.

Who's gonna walk in anyways, she locked the door behind her and the only other place there was had been the bathroom door which Leah specifically told people not to puke in. Maybe this was the place she planned to pass out in at the end of the night.

Sighing to herself, Y/n pulls out the rolling paper and weed, kneeling on the floor beside the bedside table as she rolls a joint as quick as she could before anyone can bother her.

Biting her lip, she's frustrated she can't do it properly before fixing the paper again.

Finally, she successfully rolls a joint and doesn't waste any time in lighting it, the fragile thing in between the roughness and calloused skin of her fingers.

She took a long drag, letting the smoke travel down her throat before exhaling with a cough. Too much for her first hit in a while. Shoulda watched herself a little.

After her coughing fit, Y/n stands with weak knees, stripping off her zip-up so she was left in a black cropped tank top and black low-rise cargo pants.

Around her hips was a black thong peaking from the band of her pants, hugging her features perfectly. She admired herself in the mirror for a moment, proud of being able to call herself self-obsessed at times when she looked good. Until a stifled moan came from the bathroom.

Taking another hit, Y/n no longer coughed. But she smirked against the taste of marijuana as she began slowly walking towards the bathroom door.

She wasn't so surprised somebody had been banging in there. More like she was in disbelief that she hadn't known any sooner.

Y/n swayed with each step, listening to the moans and mutters until she turned away from the door, leaning till her back slammed against the wood, letting the people inside know that she was there.

Her arms crossed, one used as a rest for the other so she could take another drag.

The silence on the opposite side said all that she needed to know and a hand snuck behind her back to reach for the knob, twisting it, the struggled whimpers of a girl become a form of Y/n's amusement as she opens the door separating herself from the other two.

Now receiving an eyeful, Y/n stares at Sebastian and a random girl from their school, half undressed. There's a bored look on the farm girl's face, a smile on Sebastian's. He looked far too relieved for this to be a regular hookup.

Glancing down at the girl, now angry. Y/n watches as her skin turns red with embarrassment.

"You-" she begins but Y/n's relaxed gaze catches her off guard.

"I..?" Y/n tries to continue for her. Sebastian's smile widens at this, shuffling back into his black tee and leaning against the sink, he ruffles his hair, messy and fluffy from a forced make-out session. He wonders just how Y/n could've known he was in there.

The girl stammers in return, glaring at Y/n before finally running away from the situation.

How movie-like it felt.

"My bad, did I interrupt something?"

Sebastian scoffs as the farmers' granddaughter is spacing out at the bathtub, discarded heels inside of them. She takes a hit, her eyes turning to Sebastian with genuine guilt.

He seems amused. Just a second ago, Y/n had barged in impulsively and with no care. And now there she was, staring up at Sebastian with doe eyes. He wondered if she was actually looking to take something from him. His body maybe. But studying her eyes and the way her hands lightly shook from the weed; he couldn't help but remember how kind she was. She wasn't that kind of girl. And if she was, she'd long retired from male manipulation.

Sebastian could tell she'd had enough of hookups and one-night stands, based on her reactions to such questions about her life in the city.

There was no doubt she'd gone through her fair share of sex-life issues since Y/n was reluctant to shake off how things usually went during those nights she participated in such activities.

"Yeah... but I'm glad you did. She sorta came onto me and I really wasn't looking to be regretting anything tonight."

Sebastian shrugged, pure honestly slipping past his lips as he leans against the sink with his arms crossed. "Can I take a hit?" He asks, brows raising with a sincere look of politeness Y/n's never seen before. Last she could remember him looking like such a saint, he did some chores for her grandfather when they were children.

Nodding, Y/n exhaled with relief as she hadn't been a bother to anyone. Maybe to the girl, but at least she was someone worth bothering if she truly forced Sebastian into a corner as he said.

Y/n passed him the joint, their fingers grazing just barely as she leans on the wall opposite of him.

"Be honest with me," he began, taking a hit between sentences as Y/n's calm features suddenly tensed beneath his gaze.

He was gonna ask her something about the city, wasn't he? "What was your life like? You know, back in the city, city girl." A smirk appeared on his lips as the nickname slipped out. He knew she was constantly asked about city-related topics. But he wanted to know if she was telling the truth.

"Why should I be honest? You don't believe that people are the same as they are here?" Y/n raises a brow, slightly irritated.

Who was he to ask her to be honest? She didn't have to be. Y/n had owed him nothing.

"Mmm, it's a leap. But I mean, I'm just curious. You don't have to answer. Just seems like sometimes you have a lot on your mind."

Silence solidifies the air in the room and suddenly the house feels quiet and blurry.

The laughter, music and cheering outside of the room seemed to die down, even the crickets outside were more prominent than the party.

Caught off guard, Y/n analyzes Sebastian for any mockery. But she breathes out in a laugh when she finds none, disbelieving of such a genuine look on his face.

Now it was Sebastian's turn for confusion. Had he said something funny?

"Oh, how- HAHAHAAA. Sebastian! You- you are so funny! Oh- awwwww! Awwwwwwe!" Y/n lightly punches his arm, her eyes smiling as she laughed and teased him. Sebastian in return, raises a brow at her, arms still crossed and a smirk still on his face.

What a dork she truly was.

And how amazing her laughter sounded. Lucky he got to be someone who caused such a sound.

"You are so weird- I'm not allowed to be at least a little concerned? Come on L/n, I've known you since I was practically a baby- and sure we haven't been that close recently but like... I can still tell when something is wrong with you. I'm just curious is all. What's bothering you? Muds."

Once again, Y/n is out into silence. It was hard to shut her up. Surprising Sebastian still had the ability to do so.

The nickname was so foreign yet so nostalgic. Something he used to call her when she'd come over after a day worth of helping her grandfather out at the farm, covered almost head to toe in mud stains and green-painted knees and hands.

Muddy shoes and clothes, hence the nickname; muds.

Pausing for a moment, Y/n gestured for the joint but let Sebastian hold it up for her.

She neared him, a hand holding his to stabilize the tingling feeling in his fingers. Sebastian merely watched as she wrapped her lips gently around the joint and took a long drag. Her eyelashes fluttered, pulling away again to inhale the smoke, exhaling when satisfied with the burn.

Amidst the quiet room, a slower song played downstairs where the party had been.

Y/n sighed out and sat against the ledge of the bathtub, gesturing for Sebastian to do the same. He follows suit, putting out the joint.

Sitting next to her, he stares, waiting for an explanation he didn't necessarily expect.

If he was being honest, he didn't mean to pry. But maybe his curiosity would be put to rest once she tells him.

"I guess... people are much crueller than they are here. Sure, the valley has some assholes... but in the city... uh. I guess you could say they don't know when to stop. The word 'no,' can easily anger some people. To others, it's not even one in their vocabulary. Yeah, I've met a few friends here and there that'll always have my back in those moments where someone is so persistent- but the feeling will never go away. You know?"

Y/n is smiling softly, staring at her shoes. She avoided Sebastian's piercing stare, starting to burn at the skull of her head as he watched her body begin to fidget and lean away from him.

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

There was silence once again. But this time, it was less tense. Y/n seemed to let herself sway with the love song playing downstairs, the dim yellow lights of the bathroom almost golden against the beige walls. With a sigh, she leaned back and let herself fall into the tub. Her head hits the wall but she doesn't care. Somehow her talk with Sebastian seemed to drain her energy, so she rests her eyes, listening to the rustling of Sebastian's long limbs struggling to sit in the tub next to her.

They're comfortable, at a point in time where it feels as if everything had stopped for a moment, Y/n leans her head on his. He cooperates, finding her touch just a little comforting.

"So why do you let these girls do the same to you as the people in Zuzu did me?"

The question hangs thickly in the air above them and Sebastian breathes out, chuckling. "I think at the end of the day, even if I don't want it at first... I'll be satisfied with feeling wanted, even if it was just my body."

Y/n hums in response, seeming to understand what he meant. Still, she knew what was really happening. So did Sebastian, he just refused to believe it in hopes that he was truly being 'loved,'

His body was wanted, but not himself. Sebastian was never wanted, but more like he was used.

Y/n knew what that felt like. And she's come to terms that it had happened in the past. She did not intend to bring it back. Seeing Sebastian go through a miserable cycle of craving attention, even when it was toxic; felt almost shitty to her.

"Y/n?" Sebastian's voice is raspy with dehydration and he wishes he had drank more water before letting himself be dragged away by some girl.

"Mm?" Y/n hums, she rolls her head and cracks an eye open to check up on him. A smile reaches her face as he's also doing the same. They snicker at the faces they were making and pull away before Y/n turns the water on, the tub filling with water.

"After this. The party I mean... do... you wanna be friends again?"

Sitting there, Y/n thought as the water drew higher and Sebastian leaned in on his knees to shut the water off before sitting back down.

"Not really. If I'm being honest, I like the shit we have now."

"Drifted but still close?" Sebastian smirks, his tongue poking the side of his cheek as he stares playfully at his acquaintance. "Exactly." Y/n snickers. Her eyes have been closed, and they'll remain closed.

They rest there for a while, the warmth of the water acting as a blanket for the damp coldness of their clothes.

How stupid.

"We're gonna get sick like this." Y/n sighs as she suddenly feels her sober meter rise the tiniest bit. "You're right..." Sebastian sighs.

Sure he wasn't one to get cold easy, but he surely hated the feeling of being sick. The stuffy nose, pounding headache to add to his migraine. And he surely didn't wanna have to deal with that in the morning.

"I left my zip-up in the room. I'm just gonna strip and crash in the bed." Y/n exhales. For a second, Sebastian agrees but then clicks into reality when he hears the sound of her pants dropping to the floor. Alarmed, his head darts up just in time to catch Y/n stripping down till she was in her underwear, staggering off into the room to search for her discarded hoodie.

Sebastian stays there for a moment, contemplating what to do in such a situation. Sure he's had plenty of experience with women. But not one has he ever been platonically involved with. Y/n was simply an old friend. Even if he's had a wet dream or two, it didn't technically mean he was sexually attracted to her, right?

Standing from the tub and letting the water drain, Sebastian strips out of his pants and T-shirt and hangs it with Y/n's clothes so it would dry. Guess he could crash too.

Brushing off the heat in his cheeks and the slight anxiety that suddenly crept over him, Sebastian tried to shoo away the nervous habits he hasn't met with for years. He was still introverted and reclusive, but he was less anxious than before. Just what had been making him so tense that his head felt hot with each step he neared the bed?

Y/n's figure was already laying beneath the covers, zip-up now covering her body.

For a moment, Sebastian stood over her. Staring with an uneasy feeling surging through him. He's never been in a bed with a girl before, at least not without some sexual encounter. For once in his life, he could say one of his firsts was taken by somebody completely uninterested in using him. Someone who could, and would never use him. Even if they were told to.

"Hey."

Snapping back from his daydreams, Sebastian glanced down at Y/n who stared up at him with tired eyes.

"Come on, you'll catch a cold. Cuddle with a homie if you wanna I don't mind." She nuzzles into the thick blanket with a relaxed look on her face. She invited him into bed, making space for him on the opposite side.

"Uh yeah, I was about to say actually. I might accidentally hold you in my sleep. My bad." Sebastian chuckles sheepishly, walking to the other side as he scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't mind, I like having something to hug when sleeping anyways. So I'm glad you're here. Just as long as you're comfortable."

As Sebastian is getting comfortable, he stares down at Y/n again and she finally opens her eyes again.

She smiles at him, a sincere look of reassurance on her face as she makes sure he's okay. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"A-okay Bastian."

____

In the present // Senior year

"Sebastian."

The teacher called during attendance. He expected nothing more than silence, but he surely wasn't too happy about it.

It wasn't an unnatural occurrence that Sebastian would be gone. Just that, he'd been gone two days, when he usually returns after a period or the day after.

Y/n and Sebastian remained in their little bubble of a friendship. Drifted to something less than being friends, but at the same time, closer to being something more. During parties, they often met with one another at the end of the night to discuss their deepest secrets, their confessions and just things no other was capable of knowing about besides the two of them.

They had a friendship like no other, something sacred and private for just the two of them.

They wouldn't talk very often in school or outside of it. Their time together was reserved only for nights they were far too stoned to be dancing and socializing at parties.

Still, Y/n couldn't help but feel concerned. Was he safe?

"Sebastian McCarthy." The teacher called again. When no answer came, his shoulders tensed and his eyes darted to the empty desk next to Y/n where he usually sat.

"Not here," Sam called out. Y/n looked back at him, his seat right behind Sebastian's. As if they'd been speaking telepathically, Y/n raised a brow at him, her hands raising just a bit on her desk as if gesturing questions.

He only shook his head, unsure himself where his friend had been for the past two days.

The teacher stilled for a moment, hands tightening around his pen before finally marking Sebastian absent.

He and Sebastian were close. When he'd lost his father, their homeroom teacher was the older brother figure that he needed in his life during such a time. Since then, he was practically a therapist for Sebastian. Coming by during free periods when he had nothing to do, just so the two could catch up on life.

"Sam." He continued.

"Here."

Still, as the row of seats was called for attendance, Y/n and Sebastian's little trio were feeling uneasy. Abigail right behind Y/n, poked at her shoulder. She looked back at her, expression unreadable. "Do you know where he's been?" The purple-haired girl asked. Y/n merely stared. Why would she know?

Her head aching. Y/n could only guess how people have caught into their little late-night party meetings. How rumours must have started floating around. Besides, she was an old friend of his. No wonder some people have been skeptical of the two of them.

"No-"

"Y/n and Abigail. I would like it if you two would listen to our plan for today. Unless you wanna sit there cluelessly like last time?" The teacher interrupted, raising a brow with a small grin. He seemed to put up an act. But studying his features, Y/n could tell he was still concerned for his missing student.

"We'll talk later." Briefly, Y/n put a hand on Abigail's reassuringly before turning away.

Just where had he run off to?

#sdv #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #stardew valley #stardew #stardew valley sebastian #stardew sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x reader

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cynettic · 3 years ago

Note

hi, i hope i'm not bothering you, but i can order a Scaramouche × Kitsune reader, the two met before the vision hunt (and before he was a fatui if you want) the reader was always in the same place, sometimes having a conversation , the good old routine, but with the hunting of visions the reader disappeared not wanting to give up his own vision, and years later a reunion, SFW or NSFW is by your will, thank you, I really admire your work

Summary - Scaramouche met you as a child, growing up with the constant assurance that you would be right there, sitting at your spot where he could meet you with every visit. He isn't happy when you suddenly disappear.

Pairing - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warning - Slight Yandere warnings?

Penpal - Ahhh- hope this is what you were looking for. I couldn't find a spot to put much nsfw unless I considered writing more for the series ( I could, just put a request in if thats what you’re looking for ). But I hope you liked it!! You're not bothering me at all and I'm glad you like my work!

A/N - Alright- so considering that with the 2.1 update with Scaramouche coming in, I just wanna state beforehand that I wrote this prior so I dont know if we learn about his backstory or anything!!

Link for Part 2

Stay With Me

Scaramouche was used to the routine he’d found himself going along with every visit to Inazuma. As a child he’d pass through the wild fields that stretched just beside his hometown, adventurous and curious with all the tenacity of a child.

And of course you, a kitsune that sat perched on the ground awaiting the Kitsune Saiguu, was bound to notice him. Unlike the other earth kitsune statues, you hadnt turned to stone during your wait. Instead, staying in the same place did you interact with travellers and the locals, which included Scaramouche.

“Fox person!” The little boy chanted, pulling at the hems of your clothing. Bright blue eyes bore into your own, and you slowly shifted your head to pay attention to the boy who was on the verge of bouncing on you.

Humming in reply to his excitement, the little boy paused, both of his small hands still tightly clasping the fabric of your clothes. Soft matted hair brushed past his face in a messy manner, calling out the boy for his boundless running and rebellious urge to keep his hair messy despite his parents wishes.

“Play with me!”

Staring at the boy only a moment longer, you simply chuckled at his antics. “I’m afraid I cannot move from the spot in which I dwell~ Perhaps I’ll be able to entertain you if you bring cards?”

But the young boy had made up his mind at the statement to which you couldn't move. A pitiful frown enfluged his face as he cast you the nastiest glare a five year old could muster. “Boring!” He shouted into the distance of the fields, dramatically turning on his heels and bouncing up into a sprint away. You watched his small figure fade away into the background, absentmindedly sighing and returning to your mindless thoughts.

As a child, Scaramouche would pass by you fairly often. Frequent when he asked you to play with him, and storming away with the same expression when you denied him. Nothing out of the ordinary, you’d lived for an exceptional amount of time, and even though grumpy children were not your specialty, you’d grown accustomed to their behaviour.

Growing up, Scaramouche got no better. You soon noticed his violent tendencies before they became an issue, the way the children shied away from him when playing Temari. Hiding in front of a tough exterior, he scared them away and laughed, approaching you later with tearful sob.

“Will you play with me?” He asked again, trying to hide the fact that he still wept when the other children pushed him away.

But your answer stayed the same, helping him wipe his tears and coaxing him into your arms. Not the first time you’d made contact with a human, but the first time you held them in such an affectionate manner.

It was clear Scaramouche was beginning to see you as some sort of pillar of reassurance when he began running away from home to simply ask to be held. You always welcomed him with open arms, urging him to head back to his household and sort things out. There was no harm in simply providing love and comfort for a child who received none was there?

“Now now, hurry back home little one. Your parents must be growing awfully worried if you’re out by this time at night.”

“My parents dont care about me!”

Darkness slowly pooled into the fields, an obscure shade covering the two of you from the tree you were under. Biting back form your normal emotionless statements, you pondered for something to soothe and convince the boy. Misunderstandings and hardships were normal from what youd seen with children, and you could only offer your hand on his shoulder, a promise. “Go back, I promise to stay here if anything further happens. But you shold give them another chance dont you think?”

And so he’d sprint back to his hometown, and you wouldnt hear from him again till he ran up right up to you a few days later. Begging you to play a game with him. The normal you supposed, and with a grin that seemed to stretch wider with every day, you told him the same thing you told him every single time.

“You cant move?!” Scaramouche nearly yelled one time, tiny fists curling at his side. “Thats… thats stupid!”

“It is isnt it?” You only smiled in response.

Unsatisfied with your response, he clawed your arm, pulling you with all his might. Strong, you realized with surprise that he was much stronger than most children his age. Easy enough to tug away from, but strong enough to take you off guard.

Snapping your hand back to your side, you narrowed your eyes. You weren't angry… no, you hadnt felt strong feelings like that after the disappearance of the Kitsune Saiguu. “Do not attempt to move me,” was your curt response, said in the most stern voice you’d used with the boy.

He’d looked at you only a few seconds longer before bursting into tears, turning away and running. You didn't feel regretful for defending yourself, only turning once more with a tired sigh to stare at the distance.

But just as you stayed ageless, Scaramouche grew older. Still, crossing each others pass was inevitable when you sat in the plains, just alongside the path that lead to his hometown.

With a permanent scowl that seemed to stain his face, he still seemed to have mature a tad bit. Maybe hadnt improved in the social department, because he now scared children and adults and alike, but more mature…

“Hm? Whats this?”

Once again, sitting criss cross under the large tree that provided the perfect shade on sunny days, you stared at the boy expectantly. His hands hesitated at your question, but he resumed shuffling. “Cards,” he simply said in response.

A small featherlike feeling flitted across your chest, making you feel lighter and… almost ticklish. A small smile crossed your face, and you recognized the emotion to be one of adoration. For him to have remembered words you’d spoken years ago, it gave you a warmth you’d sorely missed. A warmth akin to watching him and the other children grow up.

“Ew, dont smile like that, its creepy.”

Swatting at his head, he frowned further when you laughed. “You’re more mature,” you pointed out, lazily leaning back. “You need to work on your people skills though, as someone who hasnt moved in years, thats pitiful that I know more than you.”

“Shut it!”

But as he grew up, you hardly got to see much of him. He’d reached your height and then fully disappeared, leaving no goodbye. And much as you hated to admit it, you hardly noticed, not when days passed in a flurry. You were used to being by yourself, entertaining the kids and greeting the people that passed by.

Sometimes, there’d be the reminder of the warmth he’d given you. But it was quickly overshadowed by your duty to remain seated in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. A dedication kept in its earnest, but beginning to dwindle.

Inazuma was beginning to change.

“The vision decree…” you repeated, staring at the traveller who’d mentioned it to you. “Care to elaborate?”

The new archon threatenening to take away visions from every inhabitant of Inazuma. It was preposterous, so much that you didnt move. Your vision meant the world to you, but so did the Kitsune Saiguu. You werent sure just how you weighed the two till you saw civilians passing by you, ones you recognized, ones that didnt recognize themselves.

It was snowing, cold snowflakes melting into your skin while your hair soaked in the water. Unflinching, you hummed to a little tune, awaiting someone to pass you so that you could attempt to strike a conversation of somesort. The unnatural weather distanced all who entered the field though, and you simply waited. For the Kitsune Saiguu, for someone, or for some form of entertainment, you didnt know. You Slowly closing your eyes, you decided not to care.

“Im gone for five years and you’re still sitting here like a dumbass.”

Eyes snapping open, you find yourself face to face with a complete stranger. Dark purple hair with dark blue eyes, piercing and dangerous in a way you dont recognize at all. Fancy clothing that you cant identify or put a name on.

The boy took a step towards you, crouching down to stare at you directly. His eyes scanned over your figure briefly, and he brushed the snow out of your hair and ears with one flick of his hand. In the next, he was offering a coat to you. “Take it, you’re probably getting cold.”

You leaned forward, ignoring the coat he offered you. Gently, you raised your hand to brush the hair from his eyes, centred on the way his pupils widened. Offering a small moment of surprise and one glimpse into the small childlike blue eyed wonder he was. “Kiddo,” you breathed, pulling your hand back and scanning him once again. “You’ve grown.”

“And you havent.”

Snickering at his comment, you took the coat. You didnt need it, but he looked like he didnt either. He was already wearing clothing that kept him warm, and with careful observation and an untouched coat, you settled on the fact that he’d brought it here. Brought the coat here for you.

“Still havent improved with those social skills of yours have you?”

He scoffed, letting himself fall back till he was sitting fully. “I dont want to hear it from someone who refuses to move an inch for years. Lazy ass.”

You open your mouth to retort, but instead laugh at his comment, shaking your head. “Gained some humour on your journeys have you? Bad words too it seems. Anyways...” He had sat down, which meant that he meant fully well to sit, chat, and catch up. That familiar warmth filled your chest, a contrast between the cold snow. “Welcome back.”

It wasnt often that Scaramouche visited Inazuma, but when he did, he was sure to visit you. The two of you would sit down for hours, talking about the most trivial topics. He never mentioned what he did in his time away, and you never asked.

But things began to go downhill when news of the vision decree finally took action.

“Its no joke anymore! The Raiden Shogun has taken custody of almost a hundred visions!”

In that moment you made your decision, weighing your vision over the Kitsune Saiguu. Awfully selfish you knew, but you’d spent decades sitting there in wait.

And for the first time you sat up from your position on the ground, clumsily stumbling upright but gaining balance. It takes a few steps until you’re back to normal, and you begin your journey in order to escape the Raiden Shogun’s vision hunt decree.

_-_-_-_

You didnt expect to see him again.

Long grass tickled at the skin of your legs, making you adjust your footing to no avail. Sun slowly descending past the mountains to mark the start of an evening and the soon approaching night. A normal day of exploring the mountains and islands of Inazuma, observing the constant changing situation, and running away from the vision decree like a favourite past-time.

With the exception of a firm grip on your wrist.

Dark purple like hair, same hate brimmed eyes and lavish clothing. You recognized Scaramouche the moment he had appeared, looking just as surprised as you were. That being before he snatched your wrist and snarled, “You.”

You wouldve considered it pure luck to find him, an unexpected reunion with someone you actually remembered. But no, his tone had some predatorial edge to it that had you cringing. Hard. “Yes, its me.” You answered back with a frown, trying to loosen his hold. “Nice to see you too, is something the matter?”

He only seemed confused at your words, pulling you closer.

“Something the matter?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, to start, you’re not sitting at your damn spot.”

Taken aback for a moment, you wondered if that sole fact was what drove the boy to such lengths. Surely he couldn't be so troubled over the fact that you moved… “The vision hunt decree, I'm sure I mentioned that I was sticking around in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. I decided to wander around and avoid the conflict until I could settle back.”

“You could’ve waited for me,” he stated almost instantly. “I could have protected you.”

You felt your brows furrow quizzically. “Wait for you? Why in the world would I-”

“Why wouldn't I?” He pushed you closer till he could fully grab both wrists, taking a step closer as if his words would resonate clearer in your head. “You took care of me as a child, it would only be fair for me to repay the favour.” But he only seemed to be looking for excuses. “And besides, you can't just up and leave… I didn't know.”

Before you could interject with the obvious answer that he didn't need to know, you stopped. You’d lived decades, nearly centuries if you’d kept count, and you had learned to read people's expressions even when you’d stayed away from them for so long. He didn't know. It hit you in the most unpleasant way that he wasn't aware that it was none of his concern. To him, you were just another thing he needed to keep track of, something he had control over. His face basically screamed, ‘I depended on you to stay in that place.’

Deep breath in and out. You’d lived long, longer than him, you could deal with a child throwing a tantrum.

“Don't worry,” you gestured to the vision ta your side. “I'm strong enough to protect myself, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be back when the vision decree ends.”

Unconvinced, he pulled you closer, just until your faces were mere inches away from each other. “No,” he said in a stern voice. “I’d rather you by my side, where I can protect you. I hate to question what you’re capable of, but you’ve been sitting down for as long as I’ve known you for.”

“I’ve lived decades more than you,” a simple reply, hopefully enough to get by him. You snatched your hands back with ease, ears flinching slightly when a cold breeze swept past you. But you stayed firm, not wanting to look vulnerable against the imposing air he had around him.

Still unconvinced. “You’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not.”

You’d known him as a kid, watched him grow up along with all the other small ones in his hometown. And maybe you admit you cared a smudge bit about the warmth he gave you when settling down to play cards, but he was different. He had changed in the worst way and you weren't about to deal with it.

“So you’re not coming with me voluntarily?” He asked softly, taking a small step to which you responded by stepping back. He had his hands up, as if telling you he wouldn't hurt you. But the way he said voluntarily sent shivers up your spine.

“No.” Hand on your vision, you held your own hand up threateningly.

He took his time when tilting his head, taking a deep breath in, and then appearing in front of you in just a short stride. Too quick to react, you hesitated before you could attack him. You didn't want to hurt him, he was still a child in your eyes, and you paid the consequences for that. He slid his hand just along your neck, and a jolt of electricity seemed to thrum inside you just as you collapsed in his arms.

Scaramouche was quick to catch you, hoisting you up into his arms dearly. “I do hope you’ll come to understand,” he said softly, cradling your unconscious form in his arms. Making sure not to crush your tail when carrying your legs, he looked past the mountains, sigh resting on his lips.

Because Scaramouche liked to have control of the things he held dear. Like keeping all your valuables neat and tidy in a closet, he was happy knowing you were safe and stable in that spot you always sat on.

And he couldn't have you moving could he?

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshot #genshin fanfic #genshin scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #cynshealthysfw #genshin fluff

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

Text

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s): hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars, inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing, just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

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