#if my stance pisses you off leave me the fuck alone. its never going to change unless i am suddenly completely separated from the reality

[jvzebel-x]

Real talk: you would rather a republican president? I know it won't make things better to have a dem president, but it can't make things worse.

real talk: i don't see the difference. &until i am given a reason to see the difference other than, "the other guy is more cartoon-style evil than us so you're a bad person if you don't vote for us", i'm going to hold up my threat to beat the shit out of anyone with a baseball bat who has the balls to try to tell me anything. especially if they cannot provide me with actual proof that they have a right to talk down to me via real life work they've done. because I have put in the work. I have done things other than try to ease my guilty conscience with the only thing the more&more openly fascist government allows us to pretend we have. it will be a cold day in hell when one of these vote-pushing little clowns thinks they can step to me&not leave bloody for their trouble. "can't make things worse". that's the problem with you cunts-- why are you always fucking operating on how much worse things could theoretically be FOR YOU instead of putting in any real effort to thinking about how much BETTER they can be for EVERYONE ELSE? pathetic&self-defeating. lazy&uneducated.

you know how close Oregon was to losing their blue status last election cycle? do you know how much it hurt me to have to push electoralism in my real actual life to keep this stupid fucking state from swinging right? how many people were out who can't even fucking vote because of their status as either illegal or former convict, but were still out pushing for electoralism? well, we fucking won. the state is still blue. since that election, dozens of laws&regulations have been pushed to make life for the unhoused not just unliveable-- actively deadly. just as one example, they have made it illegal to hand out tents on the streets. do you have any idea how much blood these politicians have on their hands just from that one decision?

no. of course not. because people like you don't have any idea what real work looks like, &you have no fucking respect for the people who are willing to put their own problems aside to try to help the greater good. how the fuck would any of you know what that looks or feels like? you get the imaginary image of the orange boogeyman coming for you, &suddenly no one+nothing else matters. your complicity leaves blood on your fucking hands that no amount of "real talk" will ever wash off.

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

[hotwings0203]

Bully!Dabi pt. 3

Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap

Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette

“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”

You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.

He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?

No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.

Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…

“Baaaabbyyyyy”

It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.

You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.

It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.

You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.

It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.

A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.

“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”

His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.

You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.

“Y/N”

“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”

But you don’t miss him.

What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.

All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.

You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.

You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.

It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,

“Found you”

Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.

“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”

You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.

“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.

Everything about him is toxic.

“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”

He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.

He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”

His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.

After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.

“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.

“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.

To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?

Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.

See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.

So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.

Except for now.

Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?

He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.

It angers him.

Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?

Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?

Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.

Anything for his precious little girl.

And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.

“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”

“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.

He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”

Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.

“Dabi, no, no please!”

You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.

As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.

You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.

He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.

“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.

He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.

“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“

“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.

“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.

He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.

“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”

You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.

“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”

You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”

He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”

You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.

“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”

You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.

He smiles at your compliance.

“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.

The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.

You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.

Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.

You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.

“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.

A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.

At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.

The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.

Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.

But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.

“A-are we done?” You sniffle.

He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.

His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.

“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“Yeah? How thankful are you?”

You still at that.

He starts to unbuckle his belt.

You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.

“Dabi-“

“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”

The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.

He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.

You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.

He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.

Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.

You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.

The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.

It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.

The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.

He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.

You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.

“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.

“Wait, go slowly-“

“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.

He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.

You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.

He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.

You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.

You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.

“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”

“Good.”

You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”

“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”

He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.

“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.

The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”

You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.

All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.

“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.

He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.

It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.

“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”

You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore

[soggy-platee]

It Goes Both Ways

Rating: M (Somewhat graphic talk of injury)

Pairing: Din x GN!Reader

Summary: You take a hit for Din, feelings and angst ensue.

Note: Hello sorry this is literally all angst, a tiny bit of fluff. I can't stop myself, I just love the whole "feelings being revealed through injury" trope. If anyone wants, I was thinking about a smutty part two to this one! Let me know. Also, y'all were so kind with Doubt, so thank you!

...

The fight went bad from the second it started.

Well, before that, if you were being completely honest. Everyone in the cantina had been too still, too tense when you and Mando entered. It was so clearly unnatural for the usually boisterous atmosphere of a Nevarro night.

Yet somehow, you both missed it.

The kid was really to blame. He had been a ball of energy all night, practically bouncing off the walls of the hull while you and his father did everything in your power to get him to calm down. You were both annoyed and tired as your set out to meet the contact, should have known there was no hope of success. When the eight men in the cantina converged on you both, you were immediately thrust into the defensive. Exactly where you knew Mando hated to be. You had taken down several attackers, using your blade to slash and hack until it broke off in the chest cavity of some blue creature. You had lost just a moment as you attempted to wrench the hopeless blade from the now lifeless corpse, but it was enough time for a rough tug to pull you to the ground and a heavy weight to climb on top of you. You remembered the previous night almost fondly as opposed to the impossibly tight grip on your throat now.

Your fingers dug into the hand around your throat to no avail as the man- a Twi’lek, you now realized- bared his teeth down at you. Hot breath brushed over your face and you grimaced even further. Eyes rolling, you managed to steal a glance at Mando who was engaged in his own battle. There were two on him, one managing to get Mando’s arms behind his back in a tight hold while the other approached with a raised blade as you looked on. Fear shot through you at his vulnerable position and you doubled your efforts.

Your fingernails finally caught purchase on the arm that held you down at the same moment you bucked your hips with everything you had. A hiss came from above as you managed to pull one leg above the hips holding you down. Twisting hard, you flipped the man into the floor at full speed, his cheek cracking against the hard dirt. On your hands and knees now, you whipped your head up to see the armed man raise his blade and prepare to strike at Mando’s exposed neck. The fabric of his cowl would do nothing to stop the glowing, razor-sharp weapon that was mear inches from him now.

You shot up, your boots digging into the dirt as you righted yourself directly into a sprint. It happened in a split second. You reached Mando just as the blade completed its arc, half-throwing, and half-pressing yourself in front of his armored chest in a protective stance. You followed your first instinct, forearm coming up to block the blow.

White-hot pain bloomed along your arm, reaching all the way to the bone, as the blade cut through you like butter. Gasping at the initial shock, you managed to get a gut punch into the man in front of you before dropping to one knee. You clutched your forearm, trying your hardest to not collapse and curl up right then and there. You dimly registered fighting directly behind you through closed eyes, hoping to God it was Mando dealing with the last guy.

No offense to him, but you felt like you had done enough.

A wave of nausea came over you as you dared to open your eyes, taking in the bloody mess that was now your arm. The cut wasn’t overly long, but it was deep. You knew you had felt it hit bone, but jeez, you didn’t think you would be able to see it.

A blaster shot from behind you gave your enough adrenaline to rise on unsteady feet, turning to see Mando with his arm still raised, blaster smoke rising from the body of the final hostile in the room.

He turned to you with an immediacy that made you sway, the speed of the movement causing another wave of nausea to rise up. You doubled over as he approached, pressing your good hand to the back of your mouth. He was mumbling something as he approached you, Mando’a you would realize later. His hands found your hunched shoulders as you finally heard a word you recognized well,

“Cyare-hey, hey, look at me-”

With your hand still planted firmly over your mouth, you glanced up at him. You were taken aback by just how shook up he looked, even underneath the armor. His hands were tight around your shoulders, almost bruising you with their intensity. His chest was heaving, but it couldn’t be from the fight now. His voice nearly shook.

The pain almost blinding you was nothing compared to the icing feeling that crept down your spine at the sheet panic he was radiating. It wasn’t right, you had never seen him simply break like this.

You had seen him trembling underneath you, above you as he came, but he was still always in control when you were together. This was different.

This was frightening.

His hand pulled up to cup your jaw as you faced him, tilting it back and forth, frantically searing you even though the source of your pain was obvious. You wanted to say something, anything, to get him to calm down. But when you managed to pull your hand from your mouth, all that escaped was a low groan of pain.

Well that didn’t work, you thought faintly before your face collided with Mando’s chestplate, blackness overtaking you a second after.

…

The swaying was what woke you. A constant, fast motion shook you all over. Most pertinently, it was shaking the hell out of your arm. Something was wrapped around you, holding you close to a hard metal surface.

Why did it hurt again?

Ah yes, the cut.

The cut. The fight.

Mando.

You forced your eyes open, instinctually pulling away from whatever was retraining you. A gruff voice spoke to you as you turned your eyes to face the dark fabric of Mando’s chin.

“Stop.”

His faceplate didn’t even turn to you, just one word directed outward to the now-dark street ahead of you. He was carrying you through the town bridal style, your damaged arm tucked up into your chest as your calves swung with each footfall.

The memories of the night flooded back to your in greater detail, mainly your injury. An injury, you now noticed, hurt a lot less than it had...a few minutes ago? An hour?

Your confusion formed a question. Fighting the dryness in your voice, you huffed out, “How long was I out?”

“Not long.”

Another short answer, again not facing you.

A frown tugged on your lips, brows furrowing. Had something happened you didn’t remember? Why was he suddenly pissed at you? Finally, you glanced down at your arm. Wrapped in several bacta patches, secured with more bandages.

When the hell did that happen?

“Cantina had supplies”

Sometimes his ability to read you pissed you off.

You finished the trip in silence, doing your best to let off a pissed-off vibe. It was childish. You knew how to communicate, you knew Mando hardly ever did. But you were tired, hurt, and you didn’t know why that was such a huge problem to him. You had saved his ass, anyway.

You should be the pissed one if anything.

You approached the Crest’s ramp and you prepared to be set down, tensing your legs and starting to push off his chest with your good arm.

His grip simply remained firm, however, showing no indication he would be letting you down. You twisted your head in an attempt to look him in the visor, confused as all hell. His face remained stubbornly to front, much to your continued irritation.

You pushed off him a few more futile times, wiggling your hips in an attempt to loosen his hand around your knees.

Nothing.

You just slumped in his arms then, waiting for what seemed like the world’s slowest ramp to hit the ground.

He stomped into the ship and didn’t set you down until the ramp started to raise. His demeanor still remained stony, but he set you down with a gentleness only reserved for you and the child. He steadied you as your feet hit the ground, but his hands pulled away as soon as he confirmed you could stand alone.

Before you could even speak, he was gone, heading to the ladder of the cockpit.

That was it, you had absolutely had enough.

You threw your good hand in the air before shouting across the silent hull.

“Yeah, thanks for the ride, I’ll just go fuck off then.”

It wasn’t your best line, but you were pissed. And confused.

And hurt more than anything.

To your credit, the words were enough to stop him, hand on the first rung of the ladder. You stood expectantly, breathing heavily from your words and your injury.

Silence.

You made an incredulous sound, turning around and folding your arms to the best of your ability.

“Leave it to me to fuck up and save your ass, my bad, it won’t happen again.”

You winced as the words left your mouth, it was mean. It was terrible. You didn’t mean it. You would lay down your life for him at any moment and he knew it. Well, you thought he knew it. You thought he would do the same for you, too. But here he was, acting like you were a liability. Like he didn’t care about you at all. It made you defensive. Maybe you misread things between you too. Maybe you were just sex to him. Maybe you didn’t go any further.

That was fine, you could handle that. You just needed him to tell you, and not do whatever this was.

Leather creaked as his hand tightened on the metal with your words, but silence persisted. The fight in your was waning as your thoughts continued to run wild.

Your next words came out more defeated than aggressive, “If I’m an issue, just tell me. I’m gone.”

That sparked something in him, hand flying off the ladder as he whirled to face you. The movement caught you off guard, combined with the weakened state it made you stumble back a step Then another, then more as the suddenly fervent Mandaoliran stalked toward you across the hull. Your back hit the wall before he finally stopped a foot away from you, helmet tilted down at you as his shoulders rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths.

His helmet searched you, looking you up and down while his hands came to hover near your shoulder. He didn’t touch you, however, simply grasping at air several times in contemplation before fisting them once more at his side.

“Of course you’re an issue, you are the issue -my issue.”

His tone was unreadable, half-angry, half-desperate.

You gaped like a fish in his face, trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. Where was this coming from?

Your silence rushed him forward. Pushing a finger into your chest, he rambled, “You did fuck up- saving me. I didn’t want you- you shouldn’t have- I didn’t need it.” He spat the final words, but there was something underneath it, far too similar to his tone earlier, his panic.

Still, his words reignited your anger and confusion. “What do you mean you “didn’t need it”. That knife was going for your neck!”

He threw his head back, hands coming up to grip the sides of his helmet.

“Exactly! A knife which you jumped in front of, with no plan, no defense. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I didn’t want you to die, idiot! What the hell did you think I was thinking?”

He stumbled, whatever retort he had dying soundlessly on his tongue. Then, he spun from you, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. His next words were quiet, dismissive but firm.

“I didn’t ask for that. Never do that again.”

You literally could not comprehend his train of thought. Did he want you to just let him die? You grabbed his shoulder with your good hand, trying to force him to face you to no avail.

“You don’t get a say, you don’t have to ask. Don’t you get it? If I want to take a hit for you, that’s on me.”

He rounded on you once more, helmet coming so close that it nearly made contact with your forehead. “You don’t get to make that choice”, he growled, low and urgent.

Oh, now that was fucking golden.

“What? I don’t get to make my own choices with my own life? Is that what it’s come to now? Clearly, you don’t trust me, but I at least thought you could afford me my own autonomy.”

Finally, his hands came up and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you with intensity as he shouted in your face.

“Would you just listen to me? I won’t- cannot lose you. Not for me. Not ever.”

Your shoulders tensed in his grip and your eyes shot wide. His words startled you, the meaning washing over you in steps. They first relived you, convinced you that you felt the same way about each other, regardless of the fact this was the first time you were both voicing such outright feelings. But they also struck that same anger in you.

“So you get to protect me but I can’t do that same for you?”. Your voice was calmer now, eyes searching his visor for some sign he understood how unfair- if touching- his words were.

His hands loosened on your arms, shoulders dropping from their tense state. His helmet dropped from your gaze, swinging loosely before he sighed, “...Yes.”

His voice upturned at the end, almost in question of his own words. Of course. He knew how stupid it sounded.

Anger left you at his defeated look, head hanging between his shoulders. You raised your good arm, slowly placing your fingertips on the bottom of his helmet. He tensed for a moment at the touch, but you pushed gently enough on the metal that he simply followed your guidance. His visor came to face you once more, the blackness reflecting the look of concern in your eyes. You could only imagine that his held the same look.

Gloved fingers found your bad arm, still drawn tightly to your chest. They brushed over the patches gingerly, making their way to your hand and intertwining with your own digits. Your eyes fluttered at the touch, the familiar feeling melting away the residual pain like water down a stream.

He sighed heavily, before speaking with a subdued sincerity.

“You make me so fucking scared, pretty. I’ve never-I didn’t know that feeling until you and the kid. I can’t focus on anything else. I can’t lose you- can’t live without you.”

His fingers tightened around yours as he spoke, and your soft smile was reflected in silver back at you.

“Do you not think I feel the same thing, feel the same way about you?”

He gave your hand a squeeze before breathing, “...I do.”

Your smile faltered at his admission, worry coloring your next words.

“Then why do you think I could live without you?”

It was times like these you cursed his helmet, his creed. You wanted- needed to know that your words were getting across to him, that he understands just how fucking much he meant to you. While his face was unreadable, a short breath through the modulator and another sharp squeeze of your hand told you that you had hit the mark.

You took a deep breath before saying, “Listen. We protect each other. Equally. That’s how this works. You can’t stop me. So if you want to keep me out of harm’s way, then you have to keep your own metal-ass safe, yeah?”

You swore you heard a chuckle from underneath your helmet at your comment, and you broke into a grin. You pulled your good hand from his and placed it behind his helmet, tugging it toward you and resting the cool metal on your forehead. His hand mimicked your position, coming up to intertwine with the hair at the base of your neck.

You let your eyes slip shut before saying, “Do you understand now, dummy?”

His hand gripped your hair tighter, pressing your closer. His words were thick when he spoke, “I do.”

You released your grip on him, righting yourself, but his hand simply slid down your back. He still held you close when he said, “And I’m sorry… for the way I acted. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I was just…”

He faded off, but you knew where he was headed. You chuckled and flashed another smile, “It’s alright, make it up to me by taking the next knife, huh?”

The usual huff of laughter at your stupid comments didn’t come however, his helmet simply tipped down to take you in, hand tightening on your lower back.

“Actually…” he started, voice growing lower, softer, “I had another idea about how to make it up to you”

[parkers-gal]

Part 2 of Harry thought she was cheating on with tom" uhm you should do it if you want or not.

Harry wants know the expalantion. Why did y/n and tom are soo soo close??

its okay if you dont want do it :))

hiii sorry it took so long ! :( that piece is called “what’s his.” here’s pt two !! <3

requests are temporarily closed

—

With two days gone, you feel it’s probably time for you to stop ignoring Tom. After your fight with Harry, you thought it best to not interact with any of the Hollands until things settled, but right now you’re in desperate need of some comfort, and Tom doesn’t deserve to lose a friend because you’re in a rough patch with his brother.

He’d called you an extraordinary amount of times, checking on you and asking questions and offering his help whenever it was needed. You hadn’t answered until today, and he’d replied within seconds.

You were going over to their flat. Tom promised Harry would be out with Sam and Harrison, so you wouldn’t have to deal with awkward encounters or situations. You’re grateful, at least, that your fight with Harry hasn’t splintered your friendship with Tom — at least, not as much as you thought it might.

The beep of your car brings you out of your head — you realize you’re at Tom’s house a lot faster than you thought. You’re on time, though, but you’re not as mentally prepared as you’d like to be. You’re a bit distressed, and noticeably so. Fighting with Harry wasn’t fun.

“Hey, Y/N/N.” Tom greets you as he opens the door, stepping aside to allow you inside. You smile nervously, awkwardly, and you manage to remove your shoes and settle on the couch. Tom has movies and ice cream pulled up, your favorite blanket splayed out on one end of the couch.

As you settle, he sits beside you, hands in his lap while he smiles gently.

“Do you… wanna watch a movie? Or… maybe talk about what happened?” He swallows thickly. “I’m here if you need to vent or- rant or whatever they say nowadays.”

You chuckle, almost dryly, but nod nonetheless at his offer. Ten minutes go by with you talking, and somehow you’ve shifted closer to him. Another ten minutes pass and you’re crying into his shoulder about the entire ordeal, hugging his side, leaning into him as another tear falls.

He takes his time with you, calming you down before talking quietly. He’s rationalizing the issue with you, telling you the things Harry said. He knows he shouldn’t, because this really isn’t his business, but he can’t help it. He wants things to work out between you and his brother.

The front door opens, though neither of you hear it through your talking. Harry comes through the hallway, and when he catches sight of you cuddled into his brother’s side, he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Tom notices him first, and when you follow his eyeline, you quickly separate from Tom, standing as you attempt to go over to him.

“Harry- Harry it’s not what you think-!” You don’t get to say anything you want to, because as he runs up the stairs, his bedroom door slams loudly, leaving you a puzzled puddle at the bottom of the staircase.

When you turn slowly on your heel, you’re close to crying again, and when Tom makes a move to hug you, you step back.

You’re muttering words as you grab your bag and make for the door. “Tom, I’m sorry. This was a bad idea, I- I shouldn’t have come.”

You leave him in the doorway, quickly situating yourself in the driver’s seat of your old car. Tom is sighing to himself, hands rubbing his forehead while he slams the door with a “shit.”

When he turns around, Harry is on the staircase, making his way down. He’s furious, angrily making his way towards Tom. Only, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he walks right past his older brother and straight into the kitchen. Tom finds nothing holding him back as he runs after him.

“Harry- Harry please, wait.”

“No.” He harshly closes the fridge after getting a cup of yogurt out from the pack on the top shelf. “I don’t care for whatever you have to say.” “No, but I want you to know there’s nothing going on between us-”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” He sets his spoon down on the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble in anger. ��You’ve already stolen her from me, it doesn’t matter anymore.” As Harry leaves the kitchen, Tom’s anger bubbles into the air, and he can’t stop himself from yelling at his younger brother.

“I didn’t ‘steal’ anyone! It’s your fault that you were too insecure to talk to her instead of accusing her of cheating on you.” Harry turns around slowly, nostrils flaring, jaw clenching and eyes darkening. He drops the cup of strawberry yogurt, the spoon clinking on the hardwood. In a matter of seconds, Harry is lunging at his older brother, about to swing a fist, but luckily, Harrison is by his side in the nick of time. He’d arrived just on time, noticing Harry’s stance and recognizing the signs of when Harry is about to swing a throw.

“Stop, stop.” Harrison’s voice is a loud and stark contrast to the tense silence between the Holland boys.

“Fuck off.” Harry shoves Harrison hands off of his arms, storming out of the room, leaving a breathless Tom and a panting Harrison.

“What the fuck was that about?” Harrison gestures to the entire room, to the direction in which the boy had walked out. Tom doesn’t reply, too caught up in the events that were just portrayed in front of him. “Care to explain?” Harrison gets louder as more time passes, and Tom nods, gesturing for him to stop yelling.

“I just… Harry walked in on me and Y/N.”

“Oh god, Tom.” Harrison cuts his explanation short, and Tom is quick to clear up the image.

“Not like that. We were just- we were just talking. She started crying so I hugged her and then Harry found us like that.” “So Harry walked in on his brother hugging his girlfriend.” Harrison stated bluntly, clearly.

“Pretty much. But then he got angry so she left so I tried to clear things up but then he got angry and we yelled at each other and-” “And what did you say to him?” Harrison gives Tom a side eye, and Tom winces at himself.

“I… blamed him for everything.” “Jesus, Tom.”

“How was I supposed to know he was gonna throw a punch?!”

“You weren’t, but you should’ve known you were gonna piss him off even more!”

Tom scoffs, head tilting backwards while he looks at the ceiling in thought. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You need to stay out of their relationship.” Harrison doesn’t sugarcoat what he thinks needs to happen. There’s no happy ending for you and Harry if Tom doesn’t stay out of the waters until it clears up.

“But-”

“No, Tom.” Harrison’s shoulders sag slightly. “Look, I know she’s your friend too, but that’s Harry’s girlfriend. You’ve… I don’t know… caused tension? You’ve gotten in between them. They need to bond again.”

“No, yeah, I know. You’re right.” He sighs. “I just… I don’t know if this is all my fault? It’s not my fault Harry said those things to her.”

“Yeah,” Harrison sips a glass of water. “But you should give them space until they make up.” Tom hums, nodding as he crosses his thick arms. “You know, you could start by explaining why the hell you and Y/N are so close.” Tom eyes him while biting his bottom lip.

“She’s…. Taking online courses so she can get into screenwriting. I’m trying to get her an intern for an upcoming film I’m working on.” He confesses as if it’s the most taboo thing in the world. “She wanted to surprise Harry by saying she’s coming with us for filming. We just- we don’t know if it’s final yet, so we didn’t want to tell him anything.” Harrison rolls his eyes, almost unsurprised at the predicament. “Well, stop making work seem so unprofessional. Harry can handle time away from his girlfriend if it comes to that.”

“Right. I suppose I should talk to her.”

“And then get her to talk to him, yeah.”

“Kay,” Tom grabs his car keys and a jacket before waving goodbye to Harrison, the door clicking on his way out.

**

You’re not sure how Tom convinced you to go to Paddy’s rugby game, but you’re here nonetheless. You have a jersey on under your cardigan, jeans fitted nicely while you stand with your arms crossed. It’s cold and dark out, so the field lights are on and they’re brighter than light mode on your cell phone.

Tom said he’d meet you here, at the bottom of the bleachers. The game has already started, and while you’re mediocrely cheering with the rest of the crowd, you’re still hyper aware of the fact that you’re alone. When you feel a presence next to you, you realize Tom has taken a stance on your left side, Harry on your right.

With a thick swallow of your dignity and courage, you step closer to Harry. “Do you… wanna talk?”

He chews on his lower lip but nods almost confidently. You shiver as the two of you walk towards a popcorn stand. It’s quiet for a good few moments, beats passing with just the rustling of grass under your shoes.

“I’m… sorry about everything I said. I know you’d never cheat on me.” He’s first to break the silence, rough deep voice cutting the tension and breaking the ice. “I just- I get so insecure whenever you’re with Tom. I don’t feel like a good boyfriend when you’re always with him.”

You can tell he’s sucked in his breath, a sure sign that if he doesn’t compose himself, he’s going to start crying. You take the opportunity to reply.

“I know,” You breathe out. “I was… maybe a little too close to Tom. I just- I didn’t realize, y’know? It seemed like you were fine with it but the dynamic got weird and- I’m just… I’m sorry too. I should’ve tried to… help you with your insecurities instead of doing… what I did.”

He nods, watching his feet take each step. “I missed you.” He confesses it just as the two of you come to a stop in front of the popcorn stand. You lick your lips, breathing out a helpless chuckle.

“I really missed you, too.”

When he takes a step closer, you realize what he’s initiating, and you embrace him strongly, holding him tightly, squeezing him. He inhales your scent, sighing to himself and exhaling in relief to have you back in his arms. You smile against his shoulder, bringing him closer, if possible.

“‘M sorry.” He’s grumbling into you, voice rasping. You can tell he’s a bit emotional, so you squeeze him again, pulling apart to look at him.

“‘S okay.” You smile, bringing his face closer to yours. “We’re okay.” Your fingers are under his chin while he nods, and suddenly, your lips are embracing, kissing sensually just as they have so many times before. He can taste your coconut chapstick, and he smiles into the kiss, hands on your waist gently.

“We’re okay.”

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ it takes two to tango ]

pairing: chuuya nakahara x f!reader

word count: 2.4k words

contains: enemies but they flirt a lot basically, so much sexual tension and teasing, flirty!y/n, fight scenes and dance scenes basically carry the same amount of sexual tension and i will die on this hill

summary: chuuya runs into you, his arch-nemesis, again at a masquerade ball on a mission and reluctantly allies himself with you to fulfill the same goal

a/n: okay here’s ANOTHER chuuya fic from your resident chuuya fangirl. this is my first time writing an enemies to lovers-ish fic and i had so much fun with the setting and sexual tension here so i hope you guys like it 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

chuuya was being watched, he could feel it ever since he walked into the large mansion on undercover mission that mori sent him out to do. at first, he didn’t think much of it since he was going to a masquerade ball, after all. of course there would be a few girls or two who’s eyes he managed to catch. 

except, when he went off on his own inside the mansion to search for info on the enemy faction’s leader, who also happened to be hosting the party, he could tell he was now being followed.  chuuya wasn’t particularly alarmed, he could handle anyone by himself. but he was pretty pissed off when he realized who those familiar footsteps, that grew nearer than ever, belonged to.

without hesitation, chuuya pulled out his knife and whirled around to face a pistol directed at his face. even with the black, feathered mask covering half your face, chuuya would recognize his arch-nemesis anywhere. 

he watched your red lips curl up in a smirk. “fancy seeing you here, nakahara,” you purred.

“fuck, you again?” chuuya growled, not lowering his knife. 

“try as you might, i’m afraid you just can’t avoid me,”  you said, lowering your gun. “so, you’re looking into boss tanaka too, huh? i’m afraid i already searched his office before you came in.” 

“that so?” chuuya snorted, mentally cursing himself for not coming earlier. but then, you were always just one step ahead of him.

you and chuuya had been arch-nemeses ever since you crossed paths at a mission a few years ago. he had never heard of you at all and knew very well that you weren’t part of any organization. rather, you worked alone as a paid criminal: assassinating anyone or stealing information all depending on who your boss was. if you were from an enemy organization, chuuya would have thought better of you. 

“unfortunately not,” you sighed, raising the skirt of your scarlet dress and tucking your gun away in the holster strapped to your thigh. chuuya tried not to let his eyes linger too long on this show off skin and realized, with a lot of discomfort, that you looked really good tonight. the dress you wore complimented the color of your lipstick and fit you like a glove, hugging your curves in all the perfect places. your hair was even done up too.

“like what you see?” you smirked at him, causing chuuya to blush and dart his eyes away, only for you to chuckle at his response. “don’t worry, you’re not the only one enjoying the view tonight,” you winked. unlike chuuya, you were a tad bit more, upfront, about your attraction to him. after all, he was an amazing fighter and ability user, a port mafia executive, and very good-looking to top it all off. and tonight, he was especially stunning in his dark gray suit and the white mask that covered his eyes and part of his left cheek.

oh, if only you two weren’t enemies. but then again, sometimes working together had its benefits.

“boss tanaka’s downstairs mingling with the guests. i recognized a few of his co-executives there with him,” chuuya said, walking ahead down the hallway and back to the dance floor.

“oho? are you suggesting we team up for a bit?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“only until we get what we need, l/n,” chuuya flashed you a look. “after that, it’s free for all, like always.”

“you got it,” you mused as the two of you entered the ballroom of the masquerade ball. you were thankful for the theme giving you an opportunity to look less inconspicuous after you snuck in uninvited. the two of you scanned the sea of masked guests before spotting the unmistakable large figure and bald head of your target in the middle of the dance floor, chatting with a few of his associates.

“alright, follow my lead,” you said, holding your hand out to chuuya. 

“your lead?” he said, looking at your hand with more than a hint of suspicion. you rolled your eyes at him.

“how do you expect us to get close and listen on him without drawing attention?”

chuuya looked from you to the dance floor and understood what you were talking about. still, “no way am i dancing with you.”

“how come? don’t know how?” you mocked, grinning at the infuriated look on chuuya’s face as he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him to the dance floor. 

“you’re following my lead,” he said lowly, placing a hand behind your back and pulling you close. you two were inches apart and up close, you could smell chuuya’s usual cologne and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. then slowly, the two of you began to move with the music. 

chuuya had only happened to learn dancing, from koyou-san of course, when he realized it was useful for certain missions and mingling with a crowd. he was confident with his skill and maneuvered the two of you effortlessly through the dance floor and getting within earshot of boss tanaka. the whole point of dancing with you was to get in close and overhear his plans. 

except, chuuya was unbelievably distracted by how close you were to him. everything from your the intensity of your gaze as you listened into your target’s conversation, to the warmth of your bare arm against his, to the scent of your perfume, was enough to make him feel more than a little warm. damn it, was he attracted to you now?

“one a.m., tonight,” you suddenly leaned in to whisper in his ear. with a start, chuuya realized you were relaying the info you just heard. “they’ll leave for yokohama tower and conduct the trade there. they’ve got a buyer for the information we’re after. about no less than a billion yen, would you believe?” you chuckled.

“good,” chuuya nodded, leading you away to the middle of the dance floor when he felt your grip tighten.

“you’re not thinking of leaving me here, are you?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“why? so that you can screw me over sooner?” 

“there’s still a few hours until one a.m, it would be strange for us to leave, don’t you think?” you said innocently, smiling when the live orchestra began to play a livelier music piece. “we’ve got time to kill.”

talking to you constantly felt like making deals with a devil. previous experience told chuuya to drop you here right here and now. but the need to be kept on his toes around you was terribly exciting. it was a different kind of rush that chuuya couldn’t get from fighting even the strongest of opponents.

and you were the only one who could give it to him.

chuuya noticed the shift in the music at the same time you did and without warning, moved his hand down to your lower back and dipped you close to the floor. reading his movements, you smirked and wrapped your leg around his as chuuya lowered you.

“good choice, nakahara,” you said, drawing out the syllables of his name and leaning in to whisper in his ear. “it takes two to tango, after all.”

...

years of running into each other in missions and having to fight only made you and chuuya familiar with each other’s movements. when you danced, you were in complete coordination that you didn’t even have to think about where to move your feet. the fact that your faces were partially hidden by masks did nothing to remove the intensity behind your gazes and by the end of the dance, both of you were breathless.

dancing was almost no different from fighting. of course there was movement involved, a whirlwind of limbs but this time with weapons in hand. and then, there was trust involved. but the trust you placed in your dance partner to lead was very different in the trust you placed with a rival who happened to be fighting for your side momentarily.

“well, well, guess we have no choice but to beat all these guys up,” chuuya smirked, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it carefully against the fire exit ladder. he wasn’t sure if he was going to get a chance to fight some people tonight but the chance presented itself when you two barged into the trade-off on top of yokohama tower. 

“i’m sure you enjoy that immensely,” you sighed, eyeing all the mafioso members surrounding boss tanaka that now had you and chuuya surrounded on all sides.

“why, tired?” he taunted you.

“no,” you snorted, taking out your pistol and loading a new magazine. “i just bought this fucking dress.” 

“do you two really think you could get out of this situation?” boss tanaka sneered. you and chuuya broke in right before the trade-off actually happened and he tucked the USB containing the information you two were after into his pocket. maybe he was right to think that, after all he had one of the largest organizations in yokohama second only to the port mafia itself. he dealt in the illegal weapons trade in the city and you could bet that your new client and the port mafia were hoping to take over that. 

but you were a highly-paid mercenary for a reason  and chuuya nakahara was the port mafia’s best fighter. this was child’s play at most.

chuuya rolled up his sleeves and got into his fighting stance beside you. “try not to drag me down, l/n.” 

“speak for yourself, nakahara.” 

and with that, the two of you sprung into action. chuuya, not letting his ability to give an unfair advantage, dodged bullets left and right before sending kick after kick, knocking opponents down to the ground. he easily dodged a punched aimed at his jaw and gripped a man’s arm before throwing him over his back. once he pulled out his knife to use it, he was even more deadly.

as much as he hated to admit it, you caught up with him with easily. you had both pistols out at ready, firing them at your opponents without missing a single shot. your movements were practically seamless, filling in for each other’s blind spots and hitting targets with just the briefest of signals.

at one point, chuuya whirled around to find one of your pistols pointed at him. without a second thought, he moved his head a fraction to the side as a bullet whizzed past his cheek to hit someone behind him.

“that was a bit too close, don’t you think?” he growled at you.

“you really think i’d be dumb enough to kill you with a bullet?” you snorted, walking past him to where boss tanaka now lay on the ground, bleeding from the gunshot wound. 

“im- impossible. those were my best fighters,” he coughed, staring up at you.

“well, rest assured, they did put up a fight,” you smiled sweetly before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the USB you were after. “what do you think’s in here?” 

“trade routes, probably,” chuuya said, taking his jacket and slipping into it again before stuffing his hands in his pockets and addressing you. “so, how are we going to do this?” 

“well, i was the one who killed boss tanaka,” you raised your eyebrows at him, tossing the USB up and down in your hand. 

“yeah, but i killed more of his henchmen,” chuuya reasoned.

“those are henchmen. everyone knows it doesn’t end until you take the boss.” 

“any one of those henchmen could have killed you if i hadn’t taken them out first.” 

you sighed. “i really don’t feel like fighting you tonight, nakahara.” 

“let’s just get it over and done with then, l/n,” chuuya cracked his knuckles and before you knew it he had you bent over backwards against the railing of the rooftop with his hand wrapped around your neck. you tried to move but the red glow around chuuya’s body and the heaviness around you suggested that it was futile.

“no... fair... ability,” you choked out. now it was chuuya’s turn to smirk as he had you right where he wanted you.

“l/n, you’re the last person who gets to talk to me about what’s fair,” he said, plucking the USB out of your hand and tucking it into the pocket of his shirt before finally letting you go. you gasped for air, massaging your throat as you glared at chuuya. “that’s what you get for double-crossing me last time.” 

“guess i kinda deserve it after slashing your motorcycle tires,” you laughed. 

“go to hell, l/n.” 

“are you asking me out on a date, nakahara?” 

“you wish.” 

“one last thing,” you sauntered up to chuuya, your bodies as close as they were earlier while dancing. he braced himself for anything else you might pull. you raised a hand and for a moment, chuuya thought you were going to make another grab for the USB, only for you to lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek.

he was beyond surprised and it took all of chuuya’s willpower to appear uninterested when he could feel his cheeks burning from the contact. the amused smile playing on your lips only aggravated him more. 

“the hell was that for?” he scowled.

“just wanted to see how you’d react,” you shrugged nonchalantly, sliding your pistols back into their holsters. “until next time, nakahara,” you waved before stopping by the door that you two came in and looking at him over your shoulder. “maybe sooner than you think.” 

...

chuuya shrugged out of his jacket and took off his mask as soon as he got into his car. it had been a long night, especially after running into you, and he wanted nothing more than to get home, take a long, relaxing shower, and get as much sleep as he could before going to the office later that day. 

but before all of that, chuuya took out the USB that he had spent all night trying to get and opening his laptop to check its contents. however, when he finally opened it to find a single .txt file inside, he knew something was wrong.

“fucking bitch,” he cursed under his breath, realizing that you must have swapped out the actual USB for one that you brought with you when you kissed him earlier. it was even more frustrating when chuuya remembered that he was caught completely off-guard by it. 

after collecting himself, he finally opened the .txt file, even though he knew it would just contain a gloating message from you. but the message was just two words, typed beside what appeared to be your phone number.

chuuya could almost hear your voice as he read it: call me.

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​ @kac-chowsballs​ @violentfarewll​

[wendimydarling]

Weakness

Title: Weakness

Summary: Syverson and his wife get into an argument, and he shows her bratty ass how to mind.

Pairing: Syverson x First Person Reader

Word Count: 2017

Warnings: nudity, manhandling, penetrative sex, tickling.

A/N: Last request of the year, folks... I’ve got a full plate!

Could you please do a tickle fic with syverson where u guys have a fight, but then when he comes to bed late at night you tickle him to get him to talk. But then he gets annoyed at you and ends up tying you up and tickling you as a punishment, though it ends in fluff and giggles at the end? Love ur fics!

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How many times we gonna have this argument?”

I had zero desire to do this tonight but I stood there anyway, arms crossed, nostrils flaring. Everyone in the bar was cowering away from Syverson’s intimidating hulk of a stance, but not me. I’d been with him for too long.

The guy that hit on me was far in retreat but once again, I’d been embarrassed in front of everyone by Sy taking it too seriously. He was so protective and for the most part, I didn’t mind. But I consider myself a woman that can defend herself without the aid of a man, and when said man comes in and threatens to maul any man within a ten foot radius of me, my intimidation factor gets undercut by about fifty percent.

Syverson also had his arms crossed, his legs regulation width apart and back ramrod straight. His size alone was enough to terrify most women, and even some men, but not me. I was far too pissed. Sy furrowed his brow.

“I’ll not have anyone hittin’ on my woman, especially not while I’m there to defend her,” he stated firmly. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air.

“We’re goin’ in circles, and I ain’t doin’ this in public, especially not tonight,” I snapped. I grabbed my clutch and walked out the door, hailing a passing taxi and getting in before I could change my mind. As I gave the driver my address, I looked out the window and saw Syverson standing there, his mouth set in a stern line. A pang of excited fear shot into my belly; I had just left my husband at a bar. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Syverson made it home about twenty long minutes after I did. They had to have been the most agonizing minutes of my life, and that included the time he suddenly lost phone reception once when he was on tour. I got ready for bed while I waited for him to come home, but I knew sleep would evade me. Back and forth I paced, straightening the décor on our shelves and brushing my hair before finally coming to rest on the bed, my knees pulled up to my chest. 

I heard a car door outside and adrenaline coursed through my veins; the front door slamming shut near made me jump out of my skin. My body was rooted to the mattress, fingers fidgeting with the lacey hem of my cotton nightgown nervously. Sy entered our room, glanced at me briefly, then tore off his shirt and tossed it in the hamper as he barricaded himself in our bathroom without a word. I was in so much trouble, and my heart sank down into my stomach. Why of all nights did we have to do this tonight?

It wasn’t long before Syverson came back into the room, scowl still stubbornly etched on his face as he removed the rest of his clothes. He caught my eye and held it in silent warning; I didn’t dare look away. His belt was drawn out of its fabric station slowly and my ass clenched in apprehensive dread, but Sy just dropped it to the floor. My annoyance catapulted over my fear.

“Ya just not gonna talk to me then?” I snapped, shooting him my own glare. Syverson still didn’t speak, simply shucked his legs out of his pants and boxers and climbed under the covers, rolling over so that his back was facing me. That was the last straw.

“Sy…” I drawled, dragging a fingernail down his spine. He rotated his shoulder and huffed, but didn’t turn over. Determined, I tried again, spidering my fingers over the back of his ribs. Syverson spun around with surprising agility for a man so large and in a flash my wrist was seized. 

“Best not start somethin’ ya can’t finish, little lady,” he warned, shoving my hand away. He closed his eyes and settled back into the bed. Anyone else would have heeded Sy’s warning, but not me. I needed to talk about it. 

“Come on Sy, talk to me,” I pleaded. He just grunted. I assessed the situation, surveying his body for my plan of attack. His big arms protected most of his torso but the blanket had ridden down when he flipped over, and I could see the sharp point of his hip bone cresting through the waves of hair that graced his skin. Bingo.

I crawled on the bed carefully, sneaking a hand beneath the blanket to where Syverson’s warm girth lay nestled between his thighs. He grunted again but shifted to grant me more access; he never could say no to a blow job, no matter how mad he was. I straddled his chest and palmed him softly, smirking as he fell straight into my trap. Instead of leaning over though, I drilled my fingers into the deep pockets of his hips, relishing the way he immediately started huffing and throwing curses my way.

“If ya ain’t gonna talk to me then I’m just gonna tickle ya,” I drawled, scribbling my nails over his sensitive flesh. Sy grunted and jerked but he couldn’t quite get his hands around my torso to reach, the tickles confusing his brain and causing him to lose focus.

“Hmmm… still don’t wanna talk?” I teased, “Fine then, perhaps I should move to yer feet.”

In a flash my ankles were yanked out from under me and I was rolled underneath Sy’s heavy frame, his nimble fingers finding purchase beneath him on my sensitive ribs. I squealed and scrambled for his hands, kicking at him as I tried to stop the tickles. He just climbed on top of me and flipped around to straddle my hips, instantly immobilizing me and removing any notion I had of making it out of this alive.

“Ya think ya can just leave?” Syverson growled, pinning my arms above my head with one hand and returned to digging his fingers into my rib cage. I squealed again and fought to escape, but his thighs were an iron vice around my hips and his rough hand effortlessly held my wrists, locking me in place so that he had all the room in the world to punish me for my behavior.

“Ya thought this was over just cause you were done with it?” His fingers drilled faster, their ferocity matching the scowl on his face as I laughed helplessly.

“Try again, little lady... we ain’t over ‘til I say so.”

With that, he reverted back to his silence. I screamed and pleaded with him but he ignored me, tickling any skin he could find. When he ran out of skin to tickle he simply created more, rucking up my nightgown to gain access to my belly and navel. I laughed and wailed but my cries met a stone wall; I was too ticklish for my own good, and Syverson was mad. 

He tore my nightgown completely off me and grabbed my wrists, and I took the brief moment to gasp for air. My respite was short lived however as I noticed his intentions; he was pinning my arms beneath his knees.

“No, Sy NO, PLEASE!!” I protested, pulling uselessly against his brute strength. I knew his game, I knew where he was headed and I didn’t want it. 

“I’m sorry,” I begged him. Sy stared at me, hands on his knees, glare still firmly lodged on his face.

“I told ya not to start something ya couldn’t finish,” he said coldly. His hands travelled slowly behind him, resting along the supple flesh on my thighs.

“I know, I--KNOW,” I gasped, kicking at him. Syverson shuffled my body as I spoke, spreading my legs and trapping them between his folded knees.

“Ya just... ya wouldn’t talk to me, Sy. I didn’t want to go to bed upset, not tonight,” I admitted, gazing up at him with round eyes. I struggled under his weight, trembling as his fingertips grazed along the inner tendons that connected my legs to the rest of my body. Sy gave me a look that said I better keep talking, so I continued to explain.

“I don’t need ya to defend me all the time,” I said softly, not wanting to look at him. I knew his face would show that he was hurt, and I was right.

“That’s what I’m here for, bug,” He whispered, staring at my heaving chest as he traced circles along my sensitive loins. I shivered. God, I wanted to reach out and hold him.

“But what about when ya aren’t here?” 

Syverson’s head snapped up to look at me, fire and pain flaring in his eyes. I could see that it hadn’t occurred to him that I still got hit on when he was overseas. Remorse and understanding fell over his features, and he nodded in submission.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Still, ya need to pay fer leavin’ the bar without me.”

His fingers picked up their pace and my face scrunched up in agony. I wasn’t gonna get out of this by distracting him, and I was left with no choice but to accept my punishment. Still, I had to try.

“Sy, no don’t--” I managed to get out before he was squeezing those tendons between his thumbs and fingers, pinching every last ticklish nerve along my thighs. I thrashed and screamed, the highest-pitched squeals tumbling from my lips as he laid waste to my secret weakness, fluttering his fingers all over my mound. Time lost all meaning; had it been five minutes? Ten? I didn’t know, all I knew was that instead of tickles, my tortured pussy desired nothing more than for him to split me open and fuck me into the next century.

“NO MORE!” I begged, “SY PLEEEHEHEASE!! NO MOOOHOHORE!!”

His fingers froze and Syverson cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Ya gonna try and fight back?” he questioned, positioning his elbows on either side of my head.

“No sir,” I breathed.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled. My eyes softened and I gazed at his face, desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

“I belong to you.”

“Good girl.”

Sy released my arms and I wrapped them around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder as he did the same to me, thrusting into me to be as close as he could. He was hard as a rock, it took no more than five seconds before he was bottomed out and we two had become one flesh. It was an old song and dance and yet every time still felt like the first.

 Syverson held me close as I clung to him fiercely, my tears weaving a wet trail into my hair as his embrace coiled around me, suffocating me in the best of ways.

“I’ll be back before you know it, bug,” He crooned against my cheek, but I could hear how choked up he was and I lost it. I would never get used to him leaving.

“You better be,” I sobbed, never wanting this night to end. Tomorrow brought pain, and separation.

“Now now, no tears,” Sy shushed, cradling my face in his hands and wiping the salt that threatened to stain my face. He thrust into me, hard and wanting and I gasped, pitching my hips to meet his. My cervix was on fire, the slightest movement would send me barreling over the edge into bliss. I saw a glint in Sy’s eye, one that told me he was about to be devilishly mischievous and my arms were brought to rest above my head, fingers interlocked with mine, and kisses alighted on my nose and neck as his lips found their way to my ear. 

“Keep your arms up, bug,” he ordered, his fingertips spidering softly down my arms. No, I thought, squirming my hips and then gasping in shock as pleasure rocked through my center. Not this. Anything but this. His voice came searing into my mind, sealing my fate with one phrase.

“Yer gonna learn not to start somethin’ ya can’t finish.”

[foulcrownkryptonite]

Tracing Constellations

A storm rages through the 104th's wooded training quarters, leaving a long hike for Jean and Marco to fix a water-logged issue... the time alone making for some unexpected discoveries.

(for the sake of the fic + levels of maturity I am achieving with this story, everyone will be legal adults!)

Chapter One: An Obscurity.

“I’ll kill them all! Just you wait and see!!” The dining hall had been relatively calm, the tranquil buzz of steady conversation and cutlery clinking against plates mixed to create a pleasant hum. It was one of those rare nights their usual starchy glop was exchanged for a more sustainable, hearty potato soup, paired with a cheap but effective booze. A good night to say the least. A good night until Eren (Dumbass) Jaeger opened his obnoxious mouth. The young man’s tired phrase reverberated throughout the hall, pitching obnoxiously off the high ember ceiling. God, I’m too sober for this…

Eren’s endless prattling of ‘I’ll save the world’ or ‘I have more passion than anyone here’ had gotten old fast. It bugged the ever-loving shit out of him, and with the current daggers-for-eyes and under-the-breath-scoffs Jaeger was getting, the sentiment was well shared.

“Don’t give me that Mikasa, I mean it! I’m going to kill every last one of those-'' Eren was promptly cut off by Jean’s hands smacking the table in front of him, causing a nearby fork to clink to the ground. Jean rose from his seat with an overly dramatic flare, making a show out of swooping his hair back. If the entire dining hall weren’t already watching the pair with dreadful, tired looks, they certainly were now. Some hushed whispers and exasperated groans sprinkled about the room as Jean assumed his stance towering over Eren.

“Well, all hail King Jaeger, eh? Oh don’t worry my friends, the man who can’t balance on his ODM gear will stop the incoming apocalypse!” he taunted, voice oozing with that special kind of ridicule Jean knew got Eren’s blood boiling. He was up and out of his seat before Mikasa had a chance to pull him back. Jean snorted loudly.

“Eager are we? Well then Jaeger, fight me like the man you’re always claiming to be.”

“Says the fucking horse face”

“Oh how original”

“Foal!”

“Jackass!”

The surrounding cadets watched with jaded faces, sighing at the scene unfolding for at least the third time that week. It was no longer entertaining, or really worth wasting any time or energy on, so they returned their attention to their much more exciting dinners and side banters.

The ever arrogant duo stepped to the center of the room, assuming, of course, all focus to be on them. Sharing dissent and ill-bred sneers, they theatrically assumed their fighting position. Guess I’ll just have to put him back in his pla-

“Nope. Okay-hah, we’re done here.” Marco interrupted, their foolish behavior striking his last nerve, the last nerve of the entire collective dining hall for that matter. Sighs of relief and annoyance sounded around them as Marco marched over and grabbed at Jean’s jacket, pulling him out from the table and towards the door.

“‘Ey, what’re you doin-” Marco wordlessly dragged the half pissed, half confused and positively tipsy Jean across the room, the grip on his jacket unwavering. A small chuckle escaped Jean’s mouth at Marco's unexpectedly forceful behavior. Damn, those muscles aren’t just for show, huh?

Marco sighed as he led him towards the door, a poorly concealed smile creeping its way onto his features. “Bedtime.” Marco concluded, biting back his smile in need of a more threatening look. Jean didn’t fight it. Instead, he bristled as he caught Conny’s snide face before the door to the dining hall was shut by Marco’s boot. The low lit lantern illuminated the two in a soft orange glow and the thick wooden door effectively drowned out the murmurs coming from behind it.

The change in air was drastic, shifting from a crowded and loud mess hall to the peaceful sounds of an autumn night and Marco’s freckled face incandescent under that old lantern. Marco’s hand remained firm in the layers of his jacket yet neither made motions to move. Jean was in a weird sort of trance and yeah he should move and unblock the way for Marco but for some reason he didn't. It wasn’t as if the other had really given him a chance to, what with him still holding onto the front of Jean’s coat.. A couple still moments passed and Marco had a strange, almost calculating look on his face.

Jean couldn't remember how long he had been standing there, the alcohol starting to intoxicate his body and the sheer closeness of Marco starting to intoxicate his brain. But if the loosening grip on his chest and Marco’s suddenly flushing face said anything, whatever this was had gone on a bit too long. The last thing Jean wanted was to make his good friend uncomfortable- No matter how nice just standing there in the cool breeze with Marco’s hand on his chest… Nope. Backtrack on that line of thinking. Immediately.

Things were getting awkward fast and Marco looked like he was going to say something and shit he probably shouldn’t have chugged that last bit of his drink, huh? To clear the sudden tension caused by his inability not to fucking gawk at Marco, Jean did the only thing his dumb tipsy brain could think of: make a drunken escape.

“Betcha can’t catch me.” he blurted before breaking out of Marco’s loose hold, running towards their quarters in a less than put together fashion. Was Jean literally running away from whatever moment just passed between the two? Why yes, indeed he was. But Marco’s eventual breathy laugh and quickening footsteps enclosing in on him told Jean everything was fine. Well consider that a job well done.

The two then stupidly ran around the camp, Jean hiding behind every tree and supply wagon trying to scare Marco, and Marco doing everything in his power to tackle the other. After a particularly bone crushing embrace and a loud laughing fit quickly admonished by Shadis, the inebriated pair walked the rest of the way to their dorm, the air around them now whimsy and casual.

They trudged through the wooded path, torches lighting the ground every few yards. They sprung into sporadic fits of giggles over absolutely nothing, both of the men now feeling the full effects of dinner’ mead, and Marco no longer playing the role of the responsible sober friend.

The cadets had been training in the woods for a week now, the goal being to get them used to ODM gear and combat in a dense forest. It was a welcome change of scenery from the usual parching desert and brutal heat. Being surrounded by rich greens and active rivers somehow made the strenuous drilling and long hours somewhat enjoyable.

Though navigating the dark forested path whilst drunk proved to be more than a little difficult. His attempts at walking straight in the dense woods were apparently remarkably entertaining, as when Jean confidently waltzed straight into a tree the slightly less drunk Marco lost his absolute mind, laughing himself into a puddle on the ground.

With minimal bumps and bruises, they eventually made it to their quarters. Marco plopped himself dramatically onto an old shipping barrel and started to squirm his way out of his jacket. Ok, perhaps the other was drunker than Jean thought.

Chuckling to himself, he walked over to help his struggling friend out of the confines of the fabric. Marco stopped squirming and tried to accommodate for Jeans helping hands, flushing slightly when his eyes met Jeans. He quickly averted his gaze, turning to eye the door as Jean finished struggling with the last button.

With the jacket discarded, Marco straightened his gaze to look up at Jean, who seemed to tower over him. A couple heated seconds passed in silence until Marco started… shaking? Before concern could settle in, sporadic chuckles started to escape from the man underneath him, evolving into a full on belly laugh. Jean took a small step back and looked down at him in bewilderment but Marco just shook his head, words be damned in his current state.

“Sorry, I just-” he began to topple over himself, a fit of laughter bubbling in his stomach. “I don’t know why I’m laughing honestly-” he spat out through giggles. He was fluctuating between attempting to catch his breath and then losing it all over again. It was utterly ridiculous, but Jean couldn’t hold back his own ugly laugh at the scene. Every couple of seconds Marco would try to stop and speak through the laughter but to no avail, making Jean slump to the ground in front of Marco, clutching his stomach as his body heaved with mirth.

Marco was snorting at that point and on anyone else he would’ve been annoyed at the sheer volume. Say, if Eren was sitting on that barrel losing his damn mind over nothing at all he would’ve slapped the sense back into him. But something about Marco’s water filled eyes and big loud smile just made him feel warm. Or.. perhaps that was just the alcohol.

He grinned as he looked only at the mad man sitting in front of him. From this distance he could see each little freckle adorning his nose and cheeks and the way his nose would scrunch in between sets of giggles. It was an endearing sight, cute even, though Jean would never admit that aloud.

Too caught up in their snickering, the two almost didn’t notice their comrades briskly stumbling in, Ymir being the one who pushed the two large wooden doors hurriedly. “In.” she commanded, and stepped back as everyone else dashed inside. Jean startled and Marco’s laughter alleviated as Ymir eyed them, her face contorted so it was impressively indecipherable. She had quite the poker face, though some general annoyance seemed to seep out as usual.

“What’s the damn ruckus about?” Jean demanded more than he asked, his filter coming back down hard now that more people were around. Ymir looked at Jean with a face that basically read as, ‘Shut the fuck up you’re the one making a dopey ruckus.’ Instead of voicing any of that though, she shut and locked the door as the final cadets made their way inside.

“Massive storm coming in, it’ll do some damage” she stated plainly before her eyes went back to Marco. “Maybe you two lovebirds would’ve noticed if you weren’t screaming like damn hyenas.” she joked dryly, her arms coming to a close across her chest. Marco snorted slightly at the tease but Jean stood up defensively, though perhaps a bit wobbly.

Before he could say a word, Ymir cut in with a raised brow. “Whoaaa relax there horsey, I’m kidding. Mostly. Just go lock the windows in the other rooms before they blow out in the middle of the night.” he nodded hesitantly in response and gave Marco a floppy wave of sorts. He still looked like he was glowing, as if somehow the light from the torches outside still reflected in his pale brown eyes. A sneer from Ymir brought his attention back to… what exactly? Oh right, the windows. Jean quickly left without another word, cursing the alcohol slightly under his breath. The rest of the cadets shuffled about, fulfilling whatever it was their makeshift Captain Ymir ordered.

Not without a scoff and an eye roll, she turned back to Marco. “Just us,” she demanded. “Help me with the rest of the rooms.”

__________

(MARCO POV)

After a solid half hour of flood-proofing the place to the best of their ability, as well as general clean up, Ymir poured the two of them a small whisky to top off the night. Marco relaxed into the sole couch of the common room and Ymir slumped herself into a chair by the window.

The living space was dusky and growing winds pounded the windows, putting them slightly on edge. Nevertheless, Ymir seemed to have something to say to him. She gulped down her drink and tossed the empty glass onto the ground, Marco’s eyes widening in both awe and intimidation. He steeled his nerves as he prepared for whatever it was Ymir needed out of him.

She looked at him like a scientist to a specimen, searching for something upon Marco’s features. Marco squirmed under the intense stare, and it was then that Ymir asked the burning question, cutting right to the chase.

“Do you like Jean?” she probed. Marco sucked in a quick breath at this question. The answer was yes, but why was she asking in the first place? Not knowing exactly what angle she was getting at, he tried to answer in the simplest, most non revealing way.

“Yeah I mean we’re definitely good friends.” he said apprehensively. Not wanting to look Ymir in the eyes, his gaze fell back to the rather pretty glass in his hands, thumbs tracing the engraved pattern.

Ymir smirked at this reaction and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees in a carefree ‘Ymir’ kinda way. “Marco. You know what I'm asking.” her voice was laced with mirth and her sneering face told him she probably already knew his answer. Damn her perceptiveness. Marco had hoped he wasn’t too obvious in his… feelings. But he supposes after tonight's less than subtle antics, e.g., grabbing a laughing Jean into an animalistic embrace and holding it for much longer than necessary, people would start suspecting something.

His eyes still didn’t meet hers as he sighed shakily, knowing there was little to no backing away from this conversation. “Please just… Don’t tell him?” he pleaded, looking back to the girl sitting across from him. Her previous visible mockery and inevitable taunt had faded, her features setting into something akin to understanding.

“Sure, you can trust me.” she said casually, taking a swig of the remaining whisky straight from the bottle. “We’re the same in that way if ya catch my drift.” Although compared to, say Christa, Ymir’s words would seem invasive and rude, they were sweet in their own way. And although Marco wouldn’t say this wasn’t invasive, he appreciated the kindness nonetheless.

Regardless, Marco definitely “caught her drift”. He looked at her with a sort of twinkle in his eyes, pleased to know there was at least one other person in the 104th that wasn’t straight. He chuckled, still embarrassed despite the genuinely accepting nature of their conversation thus far. “God, what gave it away?”

“Oh, I dunno,” she sighed dramatically, “Maybe the way he was looking at you. Maybe the way you were looking at him… Or maybe just a hunch I happened to get right.” Marco laughed at the sentiment before a frown crept onto his face. “Does anyone else…”

“Know?” she finished. Marco nodded. “No, they don’t. It seems only I had the misfortune of seeing you two ogle each other all the damn time. Awful luck on my part. But don’t ya worry, your dirty little secret’s safe with me.”

He snickered as he raised his glass to his lips, downing the rest of the liquid inside. Ymir gave him a curious glance, and Marco softly set the drink down to his side, hands reaching up to grab at his warming face.

“God, what do I even do about it?” he mumbled through the palms of his hands, and Ymir could taste the desperation from where she sat.

Resting her chin between her fingers, she spoke. “Look, hear me out before you interrupt and tell me I’m wrong - but he likes you too.” Marco lifted his head to speak but Ymir cut him off with a glance. “I said, listen. I see the way he looks at you. I saw the way he looked at you tonight. He wasn’t just glancing at his friend… He was admiring you, Marco, your features. Now to me, that’s pretty telling.” Marco contemplated what she was saying, tried to really think about it before he shot it down entirely.

Is that really true? Is it even possible that the oh so straight Mr. ladies man Jean could… Feel the same way about him? It’s true they had some… moments tonight. Hell they’ve been having “moments” for as long as they've known each other. Though Jean did end up speeding away from one of those so called moments just over an hour ago… Was he being too hopeful? Oh god was he coming on too strong?

Ymir groaned at Marco's crestfallen face and stood up, closing the distance between the seats and plopping herself next to Marco. He gave her a curious glance, and in turn she gave a patient smile, well it was really closer to a grimace but still, it was the principle of it all.

He sat quietly, picking his lips with his bottom teeth. Ymir let him wallow in his worry for a whopping three seconds before kicking his ankle with her boot.

“Ow!” Marco pouted. An unspoken question of ‘The hell was that for?’ being shut down before it could be voiced.

“Oh shut it you were visibly spiraling.”

Ymir sunk into the back of the couch, pondering a moment before speaking again.

“You know, Jean isn’t going to initiate anything. Seeing as you’re more in tune with your emotions than that knucklehead is, you need to drop your damn balls and make a move.” Marco scoffed, shaking his head with a slight smile at Ymir’s bluntness.

“I know, I know… You’re right.” Marco finally begrudged, causing Ymir’s ‘Of course I'm right’ smile to appear. “But we never get alone time - we’re always interrupted before he can fully open up to me…”

“Yes!” Ymir exclaimed. “You see it now. Sure it might seem tricky, but if Christa and I can find a way, you can too.” she winked and Marco damn near choked.

“You- and- I had no idea I mean-“ he stuttered before she kicked him again.

“Shut up. And don’t tell a soul.” She smiled cheekily. He nodded intently.

“Course, Ymir.” She playfully punched him, standing up from the sunken couch.

“Good luck, Marco.” she whispered.

He beamed, his chest gleaming with a soft gratitude. “Thank you.”

When Marco turned in for the night, his mind raced with endless possibilities, ranging from transcendent to nightmarish. Wishful thoughts flashed through his mind; Jean getting impossibly close, feather light touches of hands, his head resting in the crook of Jean’s neck, Marco being told he was wanted, telling Jean he wanted him. He bit his cheek, smiling stupidly at the fantasies before he felt a deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jean could easily not feel the same. Jean could easily have never entertained the same idyllic fantasies as Marco was now.

Great, now it hurt.

Plagued with a new sense of guilt, he tossed and turned in the seasoned cot, praying for sleep to take him away from the build up of emotions in his chest. He pondered the possibility of similar thoughts dancing in Jean’s mind…

__________

(Jean POV)

Jean didn’t “wake up”, he just was up. That damned storm last night had kept him awake practically all night. What first was an occasional gust quickly turned into a rampaging wind-demon set out to prevent him and apparently only him from sleeping soundly. Someone had cursed him. Probably that damn Jaeger out for revenge due to Jean always winning their feuds. Typical.

The little sleep he did get consisted of repeated unsolicited scenarios about… Well that didn’t matter now.

It was the morning after a ferocious storm and he was reluctant to see the wreckage he knew he had to help out with. He groaned, rolling out of his bed in an overly dramatic pout. Sure he was acting a bit like a child but right now he just needed sleep so damn everything else, he’s going to throw his little fit. He caught Marco looking at him out of the corner of his eye, his hair ruffled and looking extra fluffy. He was giggling at Jean’s stubborn theatrics, a sweater-hooded hand loosely covering his mouth. Cute. Jean felt a bit more energized after that and he didn't bother to question why.

Once dressed, he headed out to meet the rest of the trainees outside the sleeping quarters. Holy hell, the damage was bad: shingles of the roof scattered the grass, trash was knocked down, even some large trees had fallen in the distance.

Eren rolled his eyes before their commander could even step close. “God, can’t we make someone else clea-” the brat began before getting hit softly by Armin.

“Eren! One day of cleanup doesn’t equate to the fall of humanity.” he sharply retorted. Jean chuckled at this exchange, overjoyed to see the prick put in his place by his own best friend. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to spot Marco…

“ATTENTION CADETS.” their Commander roared as he marched toward the gathered crowd.

“YES SIR!” They yelled back in unison, fists crossing chests in an assertive salute.

“Deep woods ODM training is put on hold for today due to the storm. I will be assigning you each in groups of two or three to aid in cleaning this mess.” Jean scanned the surrounding area nervously, where was Marco? “Proceed to the front to get your duty from me before you grab a cold meal.” the Commander directed. Pairs of people made their way to get their job of the day, but Jean stayed behind, unable to spot Marco. Nerves crept up his spine as the line got shorter, indicating he would have to grab a job with someone he possibly couldn’t stand - especially after such a shitty sleep.

A few moments later and the remaining crowd was scant, still no Marco to be seen. “Jean, you’re on running water. I need you to go up to the creek and find the source stopping the water from running back to us. We have enough for the day, but this cannot go on. You will need a partner…” Shadis trailed off, finding only Annie and some guy Jean barely could remember the name of. Tomas? Tobiaus? Timothious?

He sighed, knowing nothing but complaints would come from either cadets if forced to spend an entire day with him. Jean crossed his arms, awaiting a choice of partner from his boss while he dreaded the inevitably long journey stuck with either insufferable silence or annoying small talk.

“Commander sir, I can go with Jean.” A pleasant voice chirped in from behind. And with those few words: salvation. Jean subconsciously uncrossed his arms and smirked as the Commander let out a sigh of relief upon seeing Marco approach.

“Thank Heavens, the one person who can stand him.” he murmured, Marco frowning at the not so quiet comment as he walked up to Jean's side. “That is fine, pack plentiful in case you get stuck for a night, we are not sure how much wreckage is up there, nor how long the journey on foot will take. There’s a shed around there you could set up in for the night. Do not come back today if you do not have ample time before sundown. Now get moving!” he ordered, his last words reverberating in a loud squawk.

“Yes sir!” They saluted before Jean met eyes with Marco. “Where the hell were you?” he questioned. Marco playfully rolled his eyes.

“Worried, hmm?” he chuckled, “Don’t worry, I was just helping Ymir with something.” he replied brightly. Ymir? That seems random… But he decided to not question it.

The two went back to their rooms to pack for their lengthy and no doubt strenuous trip up the mountain. Jean found himself not only not dreading the excursion, but actively looking forward to it. He felt a bit like a hyperactive kid as genuine excitement coursed through his veins. Should he bring his comb? Nah he probably won't need it. But what if they do end up having to spend the night and Jean turns too much in his sleep and his hair gets all messy and floofy and Marco looks at him with damned bed head and then probably giggles to himself and makes a dumb but cute comment about it because its Marco and somehow he always manages to make what Jean is insecure about into something he can actually like about himself just like when he’d said Jean’s eyes were pretty like a brown hibiscus and he stopped hating the way his eyes looked when he saw his reflection looking back at him and- Jean grabbed the stupid hairbrush and threw it into his bag.

Once sufficiently supplied, they scarfed a crummy cold meal before heading out as quickly they could manage.

Marco seemed awfully giddy as they started down a gravely path lined with fern. Though cheerful he often was, Marco was struggling to hide a smile. It wasn’t a bad sight at all, though Jean was curious. “What’s got you so damn happy today?” he questioned. Marco shrugged.

“I think I made a new friend - always a nice feeling, yknow?” Jean would say he’s surprised, but everyone in the 104th loved Marco, even the stoic ones, and he had a sneaking suspicion of who exactly his new friend was.

“Ymir?” he asked plainly. Marco nodded, a soft smile finding its way onto his face.

“Yeah. Y’know, she may seem edgy but she can be really kind.” he expressed, eyes a bit starry and thoughtful. He clearly didn’t hear how the words sounded to Jean.

Jean bit back the bitter remark already forming as envy crept its way into his mind. Why was it bothering him? He’s still his friend. His best friend even. Gah, not a big deal, keep it together. He told himself before rephrasing whatever edgy comment he was going to sneer into a hopefully harmless question.

“You like her?” he ended up asking, false humor falling from his tongue.

Marco looked visibly confused. “What? No I’m- not my type. She just has a good head on her.” he surmised. Why won’t Marco ever admit attraction? Does he not trust Jean? Jean had no problem divulging about those he found hot, so why wouldn’t Marco do the same?

The next few hours were spent bullshitting around as they walked; sharing stupid jokes about who in their class was most likely to get kicked out, a stupid conversation about Ymir that probably shouldn’t have peeved him so much, Jean going on a long winded rant about how justified he is in smacking Eren atop the head, Marco stopping to pick up random bird feathers exclaiming each time that, “No Jean, you don’t get it, this one is rare.” and eventually, as the sun started its descent towards the horizon, their casual banter shifted into their hopes for the future.

“Eh, I don’t wanna get married. Who wants to be stuck with a chick forever?!” Jean quipped. At his words Marco chuckled nervously, his gaze diverting to the coarse dirt beneath him.

“Yeah, me too. I don’t wanna get married. I’m fine living a life alone with me and my hobbies.” he said flippantly, fiddling with the strap of his backpack. Jean found the tone of his voice had changed into something more sullen and somber, and a glance over at his friend did not yield him any better results. Jean must do something about this.

He lightly elbowed his friend. “Well, if ya change your mind, I think you’d make a great husband some day.” Jean said honestly, no lick of sarcasm to his voice. Marco’s knees wobbled for a moment before he corrected them, clearing his throat to cover his obvious nerves.

“Thanks, Jean. You too.” he replied, biting his cheek. Another glance towards his friend showed a soft smile and a flushed face. Jean succeeded. Though now he too felt a bit hot in the face. He once again decided not to unpack that.

As they hiked, they spotted a would-be stream leading down to their base. Taking note of the lack of obvious running water, they were certain something rather large had blocked it. “Guess it’ll be a chore huh.” Marco pointed out. Jean began flexing dramatically, his tight muscles showing slightly through the thin white tunic.

“Pfft, your ol’ buddy Jean here will fix it right up for us, eh?” he joked, Marco eyeing him with a raised eyebrow followed with a hearty laugh. Sure, he wasn’t helping Jean’s ego, but he didn’t care.

The more they conversed alone, the more Jean felt his social facade fade, ending up losing whatever filter he had in place for other people all together. He wasn’t sure why this was the case, only knew that it made him feel relaxed and just genuinely, all around good. Perhaps it was the lack of a crowd - or Eren Jaeger. Either way, he was loosening up and took joy in seeing Marco enjoy himself on this trip as well.

“This is nice,” Jean said, smiling at the open air and lack of obvious walls. It felt open here, almost free. Hell, for the most part, they’ve forgotten completely about life inside the walls. Marco looked over and followed his friend's gaze to the sky, basking in the comfortable feeling.

“It is…” he began, sneaking another glance at Jean. “Really nice.”.

PART 2!!! 

https://foulcrownkryptonite.tumblr.com/post/663166809268224000/tracing-constellations-pt2

[bentforkent]

caffeine, small talk

spencer reid x female!reader, enemies to lovers

content warning: smut !!!!!!, oral sex (male receiving), explicit language, tiny suicide reference, general meanness & bickering (including slut-shaming and toxicity), also some fluff in there too :)

word count: 3,668

in which spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass and he & the reader butt heads. 

“would you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?” - taylor swift, betty 

spencer reid is a royal pain in the ass. you don’t need to be a genius to know this as fact. as soon as you had stepped foot into quantico’s behavioral analysis unit on your first day however many years ago, the little shit had gotten under your skin. you had worn a lower cut top that day, you remember, and spencer hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of your chest. when hotch introduced you to the team, you gave a brief speech about your background and education, and each member of the team was hung on your every word, except for fucking spencer. he had been distracted by your looks. you remember feeling conscious of his eyes on your cleavage and tugging your blazer closed. from that moment, standing at the front of the bullpen, feeling exposed to him, you decided you hated spencer reid.

“glad to meet everyone,” you had addressed the team sincerely, in conclusion of your introductory spiel. on your way to your new desk, luckily placed across the room and behind spencer’s, he reached out and grabbed your elbow, standing.

“hi y/n, i’m dr. spencer reid,” he had said. the individual introduction probably would’ve warmed your heart (everyone else’s sure did, anyways) if you hadn’t already decided that spencer would be your official workplace enemy.

“dr. reid,” you nodded curtly. you pulled your arm from his grip firmly and resumed walking.

“hey,” he called after you. “i wanted to tell you—”

you paused and turned to him. “tell me what? how good my tits look in this shirt?” you whisper yelled, trying to maintain some level of professionalism. unsure how to answer you, spencer gaped like a goldfish. “you should know, as a woman, it’s really uncomfortable when you can feel weird pervs like you staring at my boobs. on my first day.” you leaned in closer. “my first fucking day!”

spencer retreated to his desk without a word. he wouldn’t meet your eyes, and that was the end of that. until the case. your very first case. spencer was pissed that you had snapped at him, and subsequently took it out on you. his tone of voice was consistently harsh and condescending as he addressed you on the case.

“no, y/n, that doesn’t fit the profile.”

“well, actually…”

“you’re not experienced enough to understand this.”

“my three phds told me i should work on this map alone.”

the feud has escalated since then. everyone on the team is aware of you and spencer’s solid disdain for each other, and they make a point to keep you two apart nowadays. morgan had once gripped both you and spencer by your shirt collars and forced you to apologize to each other, when your verbal abuse of each other had turned dangerously unprofessional.

“y/n, did you know that the earliest documentation of a ‘miniskirt’ was in a 1962 article?”

“did you know that the earliest documentation of me kicking your ass was today?”

“no, listen, the men interviewed for the article were in favor of miniskirts if they were only worn on women they didn’t know. they liked to lust after other women in the short skirts, but if their wives or daughters wore them, they were seen as poor reflections of the men. as whores.”

“what’s your point?”

“you look like a whore today.”

“fuck you, spencer. you know you beat your dick to your photographic memory of my ass in this skirt.” you mimed an orgasm.

“it’s eidetic, and i’d rather kill myself.”

“would you please?”

“fuck—” spencer started, but morgan intervened here.

——————————————

“close your mouth, boy wonder,” you greet spencer, opening your door to let him in. it’s your turn to host the team for drinks and dinner. much to your chagrin, spencer is a part of the team, and thus receives an invitation. you find solace in knowing penelope will probably distract you from any interaction with the lanky boy. besides, whenever the team hung out at your apartment, he quickly left after a few drinks and a short chat anyway. you could survive him for half of a night.

spencer flits past you and into your living room. the team greets him in an uproar of “reid!” and raised drinks. derek sticks out with his chant of “pretty boy!”

“y/n,” jj calls, “we’re dry over here.” she raises her empty glass of merlot.

“more wine, or something else, my loves?”

there’s an absence of voices shouting between rooms as the team discusses. you lean against your kitchen cabinet with eyes fixated on your liquor collection. waiting. this team sure does take their drinks seriously, you think, taking the time by yourself to make yourself an old fashioned. muddle a sugar cube in bitters. add whiskey. as you’re putting an ice cube into the glass, none other than spencer fucking reid saunters into the kitchen, a notepad in his hand.

“i have a list of drink requests,” he says simply, expression blank.

“resident alcohol connoisseur at your service. hit me,” you reply. your tone is more joking than you’ve ever used with spencer, but if he’s caught off guard he doesn’t show it. he rattles off the drink orders, each one something you probably could’ve guessed. penelope always wants something fruity, emily always wants something strong.

when his list is finished, you look up from the liquor to him. “nothing for the boy genius?”

“i’m leaving soon,” he says, and retreats back to the living room, arms full with drinks held precariously. you follow with the rest of the alcohol, handing each drink to its respective drinker. they each thank you profusely.

because your couch isn’t big enough to hold the whole team, you sit on the floor, legs criss-crossed. the team makes lighthearted conversation about not murder and kidnapping for an hour, with you getting up to refill drinks once more in that time. “i like hanging out at y/n’s place, guys. she makes the best drinks,” derek says with a grin up at you.

“i was a bartender in my past life, i think,” you deadpan. penelope agrees with you loudly, with a slurp of her colorful newest drink accompanying.

“speaking of bartenders,” jj starts, and you see spencer visibly tense. “when are you leaving for your date, spence?” she says the word date with a sing-songy tone, dragging out the ‘a,’  and you suddenly feel sick.

the team, naturally, dissolves into excited chatter. reid? a date? you’re silent, focused on your cocktail as the topic of conversation isn’t exactly your favorite. spencer’s not your favorite, you mean. this isn’t about spencer’s date. screw spencer. you don’t care if he goes on a date.

you listen as he fills the rest of the team in on the story. he and jj had gone for drinks one afternoon and he really hit it off with the bartender. lauren, her name is, and jj assures the team that she’s gorgeous. spencer laughs a little, uncomfortable, and stands to leave.

a wave of anger surges over you. how dare he skip out on his friends to go on a date? “i’ll walk you to your car, spencer!” you say cheerily, the lightheartedness in your voice in direct conflict with your internal emotion. the team isn’t stupid, however, and they’ve never heard you be nice at all to spencer, so everyone is acutely aware that something is about to go down. the room feels like the air has been sucked out of it as spencer meets your gaze.

“okay,” he says hesitantly.

you turn to the team. “be good while i’m gone, my loves. the alcohol is on the counter if you, by some crazy chance, need a refill in the next five minutes.” you blow them a kiss, penelope pretending to catch it. the rest of the team stares up at you with wide eyes. “let’s go, genius.” you open the door and escort him out.

as soon as the door latches behind you, spencer pipes up. “what the fuck are you doing, y/n?”

“walking you to your car, dipshit.” there’s a pregnant silence as you walk down the stairs of your apartment complex. “you know, it’s pretty fucked up for you to skip out on team bonding because of a date, spencer, but i understand. i know how important it is for you to lose your virginity one day.”

“fuck you, y/n. you really followed me down here to berate me?”

“yeah, i was getting a little bored just letting you sit there silently.” you lean your side against his car as he unlocks it and tosses his bag into the backseat.

he copies your stance, leaning across from you and looking at you intently. “why do you hate me?”  his tone of voice is low, and you can tell he’s mad.

“you irritate me,” you reply.

“not good enough.” his hazel eyes search your face and even though it’s dark, you can tell they look like honey from the glow of the street lamps.

“you annoy me.”

“again, not good enough. those are synonyms.”

his calm demeanor is enough to send you over the edge. “i hate that you look at me, spencer!” you exclaim, raising your voice. “you make me feel like i’m inferior, like i’m a piece of goddamn fucking meat.” you push your pointer finger into his chest. “you think i’m less intelligent than you, you think i’m less qualified than you, and frankly, you’re a pompous asshole.” he’s silent in stark contrast to your yelling in his face. “i hate your date for tonight. i hate that the whole team loves you.  i hate your fucking cardigans and your fucking converse. i hate when you wear a tie but it’s a little too long or a little too short. i hate that sometimes, you wear a hair tie on your wrist but,” you enunciated each word with a stomp of your foot, “you. never. put. your. hair. up.”

“you’re saying all this, y/n, and i get it, i really do,” he speaks coolly. “all I’m hearing, though, is that you’re in love with me.”

“you cocky fucking asshole.” riled up, you turn and attempt to walk away. spencer grabs your elbow and you’re reminded of the day you first met.

“you hate my cardigans? my ties? my shoes? y/n, for someone who hates that i look at her, you sure look at me a lot.” his voice has less of an edge now, less arrogance. you hum, face still turned away from him. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’ve been a dick to you for years. i own that, and i’m sorry. but i think you came down here because subconsciously, you didn’t want me to get in my car and go on this date tonight.” his hand is still on your elbow, but you pull it away to rub your eyes.

he has absolutely deflated you. the anger you felt in the moments just before is missing, and you take his words to heart. it’s impossible. you weren’t in love with spencer, y/n. just tell him you’re not in love with him, it’s simple. he’s your mortal enemy. you’re not in love with him.

“i think i may be love with you,” you say meekly, finally turning to him. fuck. you meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like years. maybe it had been. he’s softer than you remember.

“y/n, let me kiss you.”

“i’m nervous,” you admit in a whisper. he rubs his hand across your cheek and you lean into the touch. “spencer, literally two minutes ago i wanted you dead, and now…” you trail off. he nods in silent agreement. the two of you stand like that for a few more moments, his hands cupping your face, your eyes raking his features. “…you’re pretty,” you finish quietly. “have you always been pretty?”

he pretends to think for a moment. “yeah, actually.”

you give a watery chuckle and pull away from his embrace gently. “the team is still upstairs. if you really want to kiss me, ditch your date tonight and come back up.”  after you press a hand to his cheek lovingly, you retreat to your apartment quickly, hardly giving him time to follow you.

when you reenter the apartment, the team is silent and staring at you. it’s obvious by their faces that they’d just been talking about you. you close the door behind you and press your back against it. “hi, guys,” you say.

“nothing? no harsh words about reid?” derek peers at you closely.

as you make your way back into the living room, you point a finger at him. “don’t profile me, derek!” everyone chuckles. you don’t plan on bringing up spencer at all, but the silence that settles over the team breaks you. maybe you’re just excited to talk about it, you think, and where once you’d push that thought away, now you welcome it. you gush about what happened in the parking lot, using your hands to emphasize important points. you give the team a short version, expecting spencer to be back up at the apartment any moment. how embarrassing would it be if he walked in the door and you were talking about him? none of the team seemed particularly shocked, but emily casually mentioned how funny it is that none of them had figured out that you and spencer were grappling with feelings for each other.

“if it makes anyone feel any better, i didn’t figure it out either. the only one who did was…”

“reid,” everyone choruses in unison. you dissolve into giggles until the time hits you. it’d taken you about 20 minutes to explain the situation. so much for the short version, but surely spencer would’ve been back by now. unless…you hadn’t considered the possibility that he left. that he actually went on his date instead.

penelope takes note of your sudden shift in expression. “uh, y/n, i hate to say this, but…”

you nod. “he would’ve been back by now, yeah.” you climb up from your seated position and walk to your bedroom, looking out of your window that overlooks the parking lot. “he left,” you call back to the living room, despondent. “fucking asshole,” you whisper. you can hear derek sigh even from your distance. you take a second to compose yourself. fixing your posture, vertebra over vertebra. you allow your emotions to shut off, any sadness you felt towards spencer’s obvious rejection pushed away and replaced with a void. you pad back into the living room.

“well, that’s embarrassing,” you say with a half-laugh. jj gives you a sad look. “anyways, anyone who’s not driving home tonight is welcome to get loaded with me tonight. i just got new shot glasses.” your attempt at acting fine obviously wasn’t flying with the team, and after a moment of silence you finally let it go and sink into the chair next to the couch.

“no more alcohol tonight,” jj says.

“yeah, agreed. i hate to kick you guys out, but i feel like i might just spend the rest of the night in the bathtub. with the lights off.” everyone agrees, standing to leave. you thank them repeatedly for hanging out with you, and apologize for the unfortunate ending to the evening.

you hug penelope, jj, and emily. as you’re opening your arms to embrace derek, there’s a knock at the door. you pause, arms still outstretched. you look around in a panic, and derek pipes up, “well, are you gonna get that?” you feel like you can taste the excitement in the air as everyone pieces together who’s just knocked.

you swing open the door, and there’s spencer, a large bouquet of flowers perched in his arms. “i’m sorry I took so long, i went to get—”

you cut him off by pressing your lips to his firmly. it’s a short kiss, but it says what it needs to say. there are hoots and hollers from behind you, but there’s no one in the room except you and spencer. “you frustrate me.”

————————————————–

you press tiny kisses along spencer’s bare chest. your friends are long gone, leaving pretty swiftly after spencer had shown up. you and spencer had moved to the couch quickly, lips locked, but not before he had explained what the flowers he bought you signified.

“according to the victorian flower code, red tulips signify a declaration of love. victorians used flowers to communicate feelings because courting someone and showing feelings in public was considered taboo.”

“that’s nice, spencer. i like that. is there a flower for “i thought i hated you but it was actually just repressed sexual tension?”

you lay on his chest, limbs entangled. he’s got one hand in your hair stroking gently and the other resting on your stomach, where his thumbs make unconscious circles. “hey, i have this pendant on my necklace, too,” you whisper, tangling your fingers in the chain around his neck. he’s silent for a long time. “spence?” you look up at him. he’s looking down at you, brows furrowed and eyes wistful.

“you wore that necklace on your first day,” he murmurs. “when you were introducing yourself to the team. and i noticed.” the wheels start to turn in your head. “i tried to tell you that we had the same pendant. i was gonna show you,” he sighs. “i was excited to tell you. but you thought i was staring at your boobs.”

you frown, twisting to press a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “i called you a perv. i remember.” he nods. you pout. “i’m sorry, spence. think of how different things would’ve been if i had just listened.”

“yeah, you should probably work on that,” he jokes.

“how can i make it up to you?” you ask, knowing fully well what your plan is. you move smoothly from the couch onto your knees in front of him. “how can i make up for lost time?” he doesn’t respond. he doesn’t need to. you make quick work of his belt buckle as he looks down at you through hooded lids.

time moves slowly as you unbutton and unzip his pants, and spencer is in agony waiting. you look so pretty. he lifts his hips slightly to help you remove his pants. “i don’t think i’ve ever heard you this quiet, spence,” you murmur as you begin palming his bulge through his boxers.

he breathes out a soft moan. “yeah, well your hand is on my dick, so pardon me.” his words are spencer’s typical deadpan, but his voice is an octave higher than usual and full of breath. you tug his boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, and you’re taken aback. he’s big, longer than he is wide. his dick is painfully stiff, wet with precum, and you’ve never wanted to suck someone off more than you have in this moment.

“you’ve been holding out on me, dr. reid,” you grin, eager. you begin to pump him slowly, tantalizingly.

he lets out a high pitched moan and bucks his hips into your hand. “stop teasing.”

“teasing?” you bring your lips to his cock and kiss down his shaft. “i’ve never teased you, not once in my life.” you punctuate by licking a long strip up the base of his cock and pulling him into your mouth slowly. his left hand finds your hair, tugging it back into a ponytail, and his right strokes your cheek softly. you look up at him as you hollow your cheeks and he lets out a rumbling groan at the eye contact. you bob your head slowly, gradually picking up speed. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, spencer whimpers. as you speed up, tears spill out of your eyes. he screws his own shut.

“fuck, y/n.” his hand tightens around your hair and he thrusts his hips once, prompting you to pull off of him and wipe your mouth. you can tell he’s close, and you want this to be good for him. spencer is distraught, to say the least, at the loss of contact. he begins to plead, “wait, shit, no, plea—”

“fuck my mouth.” you cut him off. without waiting for an answer, you sit back on your heels with a bounce and open your mouth for him.

he groans. “you’re going to kill me, baby.” you whimper at the pet name and make a mental note to bring it up later. he moves closer to you, guiding his cock into your mouth. he’s close, too close to even consider going easy on you. his hips move quickly, thrusting in and out of your mouth, punctuated by your gags. he’s feral, chasing his orgasm desperately until he finally reaches his high, moaning your name loudly. you swallow all of his release, pulling off of him and sticking your tongue out for approval. wordlessly, he gets down on his knees to meet your height. before you can ask him what he’s doing, he grabs your face and pulls you into a passionate kiss. you moan against his mouth, but the kiss is over before you know it.

“i love you,” he says sincerely, and you shake your head in disbelief.

“i cannot believe i am saying this to you, spencer reid, but i love you too, baby.” you say the word “baby” with a joking tone, clearly mocking his use of it earlier.

he smiles, all teeth, and says, “i knew you would make fun of me for that! as soon as i said it.”

you shake your head with a smile. “no, i’m not making fun of you, love. i liked it. use it more.”

“‘love’?”

“would you prefer ‘hate’?”

“god, no, not again,” he says, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all over your face and hair. “never again.”

[strawberrylemonz]

Strictly Business

Part 3

Part 4 [CURRENT]

Part 5

DT: @lynnarts @snapdragonfirefly @artistconk

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

Techno was busy today. Tommy couldn’t help but notice that the king was becoming more and more busier as the days turned to years. He couldn’t really complain, he was busy too. He was a big man, after all! Big men have big men things to do! Besides, Tommy was eight now! He had big man classes to take! He had to be the cool one and attend to his princely matters. Life was great, but it was also boring as days went by. Don’t get him wrong, he enjoyed his time in the castle. The only downside was his repetitive schedule whilst he grows older. Going into his daily lessons was starting to become boring and lonely, no matter how many instructors and guards were around him. As much as he cared for and appreciated everyone, he desperately wanted friends. More importantly, he wanted friends his age.

“Prince Theseus, you did wonderfully! That concludes today’s lesson! Be sure to go over all of the study material for testing. Have a nice afternoon.”

His instructor didn’t even wait for him to answer, packing up and leaving the room. The young prince sighed, boredom already filling him. Peeking out the room, he took note that his usual guards weren’t there. Slowly creeping out, he peered over the corner to see them conversing with each other. Peeking over to the nearest clock, he realized that his instructor had dismissed him early. Smiling to himself, he quietly slipped away. Once he was sure that he wasn’t being watched, he slipped behind a pillar. Crawling into a small hole behind it, he stood up into the secret tunnels. He had discovered the tunnels after his seventh birthday. He spent so long in them, cleaning and decorating them, that he had the entire layout of the castle memorized. It was the answer to how he managed to never miss a class so far, which impressed everyone. It was his little secret, one that he loved. Making his way down the tunnels, he swapped his princely coat for a brown cloak he left in the tunnels to work as a backup disguise. He had successfully changed into his casual shoes as he finally came across a wall. Moving a bit of stone out of the way, he peered into the cellar of the castle. After confirming that it was empty, he crawled out and returned the stone. Scrambling to the cellar doors that led outside, he carefully opened them. He suppressed a giggle as he made it outside, unseen.

“Are the carts ready to go?”

He heard people approaching, their voices growing in volume as they walked closer to his direction. Looking around, he hummed as he climbed into a cart of hay. Squeezing himself into the hay as a hiding spot, he suppressed his laughter as he felt the cart move. After a few minutes, he peeked out to see that he was out of the castle walls and in the city. Wonderful. He waited until the cart stopped at the edge of the city before getting out. Smiling to himself, he happily set off to search for adventure in the unexplored parts of the city.

--------

The water looked beautiful. Tommy happily watched the fish swim about the docs, a bundle of flowers in his hand as he studied their colors and forms. He was content with just sitting there, listening as the citizens went about their day. His smile faltered, however, when he heard yelps. Peering to the right of him, he saw some older boys follow two boys into the woods. The two boys, who appeared to be around Tommy’s age, seemed nervous. Puffing his cheeks in anger and annoyance, Tommy stood to his feet and stomped over to the group. He watched as the older preteens pushed the two boys to the ground, laughing as they teased the two. Tommy had enough of it. Putting the flowers in his knapsack, he stormed up the older boys, anger fueling him. These pricks didn’t have the right to be such jerks!

“Hey! Leave them alone!”

The older boys turned to face Tommy, who stood behind them in a confident stance. He crossed his arms in annoyance as the older boys barked out in laughter. They couldn’t see the anger that was filling the boy’s eyes, eyes hidden beneath the hood of his cloak.

“Aw, da wittle baby came to save his fwiends?”

“What are you gonna do, brat? Cry?”

Tommy was fuming! He wasn’t a baby! He was a big man! As prince, it was his job to take care of the people of the kingdom! Picking up a large stick, Tommy pointed it at the boys with confidence.

“I’ll fight you!”

And he did. Despite his size, he was able to do pretty good damage to his foes. Despite the lack of experience due to Techno just now putting him in lessons, he held his own for a good amount of time. But a stick in the hands of a child could only do so much. As he swung at the knees of another boy, he was intercepted. His stick was snatched away, causing him to momentarily lose his balance. He couldn’t help the yelp that escaped his lips as he was snatched up by the collar of his cloak.

“Aw, is the baby scared now that he’s been stopped? You really shouldn’t have done that, brat. Now, we’re gonna make you regret it.”

Tommy gave no shits. Screaming a string of curse words he picked up from the guards who were off duty, Tommy reeled back his foot. Using all his strength, he kicked the boy in the crotch with all his might. The boy cursed, doubling over in pain. Tommy used this chance to try and run to the terrified boys he was helping, but he was stopped. A friend of crotch boy pulled him into the air.

“You little shit! You’re gonna pay for that!”

The next thing Tommy knew, he was pummeling towards a sharp rock. That was the moment that Tommy realized he had been thrown to the ground. Remembering the safety lessons he was taught, he covered his head as he hit the ground, the sharp rock cutting his cheek. Anger and hurt filled him as tears filled his eyes, head swimming with many thoughts as laughter filled the air. Wiping away his tears, Tommy returned to his feet, turning to face the older boys. The laughter instantly stopped. Tommy was confused by their widened eyes, fear filling their gazes. He reached up to wipe the blood that was trailing from his cut, only to realize why they were acting weird. His hood was off.

“The prince!”

“Shit! Run, quick!”

“Fuck, the king is gonna be pissed off! Scurry!”

Fucking cowards. Huffing, Tommy frowned at his dirtied clothes, along with his bruises and scrapes. Pa was not going to like this.

“You were so cool!”

“Yeah! Thank you!”

Tommy turned to see the two boys happily yapping about how cool Tommy had looked when he stood up and fought against the older boys. He blinked a few times, a small smile finding its way to his face.

“Cool?”

“Yeah! Very cool!”

“Cool! Cool!”

“I guess it kind of was. They were cowards, though.”

“You’re bleeding! Oh no!”

The two boys began to panic as they began to realize how injured the boy really was. Much to their relief, the cut on his cheek was the only injury to break skin.

“I’m Luke, this is Bitzel. Thank you for saving us!”

“Er, I’m Tommy. It’s no problem, big man.”

“C’mon, we know someone that can help with the bleeding so it doesn’t get infected!”

Tommy hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. Nodding to the two boys, he followed them to a small cottage on the edge of the city. He snorted in amusement as the two barged in, uninvited. Following them in, he took off his shoes and placed them besides the shoes of the boys. Taking off his cloak, he let Bitzel hang it up as Luke called out into the house.

“Deo! Your bestest buddies are here! We have someone who needs help! His name is Tommy!”

Tommy tilted his head in confusion as Deo entered the room. He had expected an adult or guardian of some sort, not an eleven year old boy. Deo took one look at Tommy, only to sigh as he faced the other two boys.

“Luke, Bit, why is Prince Theseus here?”

“He saved us!”

“Pf, your real name is Theseus?”

“That’s one of my middle names, my real name is Thomas. That doesn’t matter, I told you guys to call me Tommy!”

Before anyone knew it, Tommy got into a playful banter with the other two children his age. Just as he was about to start cursing, a hand stopped him. Peering over his shoulder, he watched as Deo flashed him a genuine smile.

“Alright Tommy, let’s get you cleaned up. Want something to eat while you're at it?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks, big man.”

Deo just snorted as he ruffled the younger boy's hair, motioning the three kiddos to follow him. Tommy felt warmth squeeze his heart as he slowly touched his hair, feeling the spot where Deo’s hand once was. Giving himself a smile, Tommy laughed as he followed the three into the dining room. He may have just found what he was looking for.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Love > Shame

A/n: im hoping i got the request right! Hope you all enjoy! (this is not thoroughly edited srryyyyy) also like frick ^^this video his vlog is the most boyfriend thing ever

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: cussing, partial nudity

Requested by: @ann0325441904​

Tag List: @distrikt9​ @mini-meanhoe​ @poeticallyspaghetti​ @hanstagrams​ @desertofdessert​ @yangomangos​ @hoes4hoseok​

Summary: Sometimes timing isn’t the best. With tensions high at work for Jisung and your time of the month really kicking you in the ass, a fight breaks out between you and your boyfriend leaving you completely alone in a country far away from your old family and friends. Misunderstood problems turn to jealous and catty fights. Is there any way the two of you can come back together?

Genre: romance, angst, fluff

◈

Pain shot through my abdomen. It was like someone was sticking eight thousand needles into my stomach repeatedly for the sole purpose of fucking with me. Fuck womanhood. The pain meds I took earlier were doing nothing to help. This was putting me in a terrible mood. 

The sound of shower running floated from behind the closed door of the adjoining bathroom. My longtime boyfriend, Jisung, lay just beyond it. It was easily one o’clock in the morning, but I always waited up for Jisung to return home from practice. He had also come home in a rather sour mood. 

Deciding that the leggings I was wearing were far too constricting to sleep in with cramps, I got up and waddled my way over to our big closet. Jisung and I both had enough clothes each to fill an entire apartment so when we were apartment hunting, a big closet was a must. 

I threw the pants in the hamper and grabbed one of Jisung’s t-shirts from his side of the closet. The soft black fabric fell around my thighs. Why Jisung bought shirts four times than his actual size was still a mystery to me. The pressure on my stomach lessened but still remained. 

The door opened to reveal a shirtless Jisung emerging from the bathroom. A pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric making a swishing sound as he walked. It was clear he was still upset. Jisung roughly towel dried his hair, rubbing the cloth over his dark locks. “You still upset, babe?” I asked looking over at him. It took all my willpower not to snap out the words. He shook his head and looked over at me with a pointed glance. “You wanna talk about it?” 

Again, Jisung shook his head. “Ji, it’s not healthy to keep this bottled up. I think you might feel better if you would talk about it.” An aggravated sigh left his lips and he laid back on the bed. 

“Y/n. I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it.” 

It was hard to watch Jisung so upset. I walked over and laid next to him, trying to ignore the agonizing pain. My fingers traced random patterns against his stomach. The action usually calmed him down. However, he simply turned his head away from me tossing the towel somewhere else in the room. “Jisung, its not good to go to bed angry-”

“Babe, just leave me alone and stop being such a clingy bitch.”

I froze, hand hovering over his stomach. Silence hung heavy in the air. It seemed Jisung had no intention of taking back what he said. He didn’t even seem like he regretted it. “Excuse me?” I said sitting up in disbelief. 

I felt like screaming. Crying. Throwing everything in this room at Jisung’s little pimple head until it popped. “What?” He said rolling his eyes. Wet black hair hung in front of his vision. 

“Did you just....”

“Just get over it. I want to go to bed.”

“Get...over it?” I scoffed getting up from the bed. 

“Yes. You’re overreacting. Just get over it.” I shook my head in disbelief. This was not the Jisung that I knew. This was not the Jisung I was in love with. The boy who ran in the rain with me just to capture the perfect kiss on our first date. The boy who sent me love notes every day for two months until I agreed to go out with him. The one who stayed with me when my aunt died and I was too heartbroken to leave the bedroom since I couldn’t fly home for the funeral. The one who never went to sleep until he told me how much he loved me whether I was awake to hear it or not. 

“Look I get you’ve had a shitty day. But I’m not just someone you can push around Jisung. You know that.”

He sat up, clearly annoyed. “I’m not pushing you around!”

“You called me a bitch!”

“Well, you’re kind of acting like one!”

“Well, you’re kind of acting like an asshole.” Jisung rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the bed. Anger started to bubble up in my chest. “What the fuck, Ji?” 

“Look- I don’t owe you anything okay! All I wanted to do was come home and get to sleep. I don’t want to deal with all your nagging.” 

“Jisung I care about you. I love you! I’m just trying to help.”

Nothing seemed to make it better. Eventually, I stopped trying to be the good guy. I stopped trying to keep my voice quiet. If he was going to yell at me, then I would yell back. He couldn’t just walk all over me. My emotions broke loose along with the rest of hell. 

“I WORK ALL DAY! ALL YOU DO IS SIT ON YOUR ASS AT HOME ON YOUR COMPUTER. I’M TRYING TO PROVIDE FOR THE TWO OF US Y/N!” 

“SIT ON MY ASS? I’M TRYING TO GRADUATE JISUNG!”

“Listen I can’t deal with you anymore.” He said turning his back on me and looking out the window. The muscles in his back were tight and tense. “Just fuck off, Y/n.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. The pain in my stomach was just making me even angrier. “That’s it. Get out.” Jisung turned around in shock. He started stuttering and trying to form a coherent sentence. “You heard what I said. Out.” My finger pointed to the door furthering my stance on the situation.

“Y/n-”

“Get out, Jisung! Go sleep at the dorms.”

He started gathering his things, tugging on a random hoodie and slipping on some socks from the dresser. “This is is exactly what I was talking about.” He mumbled. Jisung stood up, clearly pissed off. He started towards the bedroom door but stopped and turned back until he was standing right in front of me. His wet hair was covered by a beanie, pushing it all in front of his eyes. “You know what, Y/n? Call me when you decide to stop being such a heartless bitch.” 

My hand flew across his cheek before I could even think. What surprised me...what hurt me....was that I didn’t regret it. Jisung stood in front of me, shocked, his eyes looked hurt. His doe eyes which I loved so much always told me what he was thinking. But, as they stared back at me, I didn’t recognize them. 

“I hate you...”

He sighed seeing a tear leak onto my cheek. His long fingers wrapped around my wrist, but I pulled away before he could get to close. His cheek was starting to turn red from when I hit him. “No...you don’t.” I looked away not wanting him to see me cry. Of course, he knew I was lying. There was nothing he didn’t know about me.

“I should....I should hate you...” He made no effort to reach out to me again. In all honesty, I didn’t know if I wanted him to right now. I wanted to push him away, but I also want him to hold me until everything was okay again. “Just go.”

After a moment, he nodded and I followed him to the front door. He picked up his keys and walked out into the hall, leaving me standing in the doorway. He turned back to me, like he was going to say something else, but stopped when he looked into my eyes. 

“Don’t call me,” I said, the last tear falling down my cheek as I shut the door.

◈

Two weeks had passed. It looked like Jisung and I were on a break. Whether it was temporary or for good I didn’t know. My hand brushed over Jisung’s side of the bed. The sheets were cold. They were never cold. Sunlight streamed in through the large glass window in our bedroom. Well...it wasn’t really ‘ours’ anymore. I sat up waiting for arms to pull me back down under the covers. Arms that never reached out. 

Mornings like these were usually spent in Jisung’s arms staring out at the skyline trying to convince him that he did indeed have to go to work. Lazy kisses, sleepy whispers even though no one else was in the room but us. There were no calls. No texts. Not even a fucking post on Instagram. Nothing. 

All my friends were back home. I was alone in Seoul. No one but Jisung. There was a knock at the front door. Dragging myself out of the queen size bed, my feet trudged over the wood floor in the apartment. I looked through the peephole only to find a huge stuffed bear looking back at me. 

“The fuck...” I mumbled. My fingers switched open the locks and opened the door. The teddy bear moved aside to reveal a face that made me burst into tears. “DANNY!” I screamed wrapping my arms around him.  

Daniel had been my friend practically since birth. We grew up next door to each other. Our parents even bathed us together. Daniel hugged me tight spinning me around in the hallway. It felt so good to see him again.

I would not have made it through high school in my home country if Danny hadn’t been with me. I had missed him so much. As most old friends did, we had dated for about six months in senior year but decided we were better off as we were before. Daniel was a sight for sore eyes.

“How are you here?” I asked cupping his face.

He smiled down at me. Even though he hadn’t had a growth spurt since the ninth grade it seemed he had sprouted another five inches. “I’ve been planning to surprise you! With finals coming up I knew you’d be busy, so I came down so we could party beforehand.” He ruffled my hair and moved past me into the apartment. “So, where is he? I want to meet the man officially!” 

Daniel looked around the quiet apartment before turning back to me expectantly. Jisung. He was looking for Jisung. Just the thought of him made me sad. Danny’s smile fell seeing my expression. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” He brought me further into the apartment and closed the door. “Did I say something?” 

I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. “Do you want some tea?” Looking for anything to distract me I moved to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove. Before I could turn the switch, a hand came over mine.

“Y/n, did something happen with you and Jisung?” 

He sighed watching me nod. The silence only lasted a moment before Daniel pulled me into another warm hug. The feeling of his arms around me was comforting, but not fulfilling. There was something missing about the way he hugged me. 

My hair. Every time Jisung hugged me, one of his hands would always hold my head to his chest. His fingers would stroke my hair, lingering at the base of my neck. It was a small thing. A very Jisung thing. But, a small thing I missed none the less. I felt empty without his fingers threading through my hair.

“You know what we should do?” I hummed in response as he pulled away, keeping his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s go drinking!” Daniel was always dragging me on wild adventures. He could never sit still. That’s probably why we never worked out. While I loved a good adventure, sometimes I wanted to just sit with a good book, or just lie in bed listening to the rain. 

“Fine. But, you’re paying.” He cheered and rushed off to go change and I found myself doing the same. Hopefully, I could get Jisung off of my mind.

◈

My eyes looked across the room from over the rim of a martini glass. The heels of my shoes lay firmly hooked over the bottom of the bar stool. “What happened anyway?” Daniel said over the thumping music. He sat next to me at the bar of the nightclub we were in, taking a swig from an overpriced bottle of beer. 

A sigh floated past my lips. My fingers traced the base of the elegant glass. “We got into a stupid fight. I regret almost everything. If I wasn’t on my fucking period I probably wouldn’t have acted so rashly. It wasn’t all my fault though. He’s the one who called me a ‘heartless bitch’.” Daniel spit out the beer he was currently drinking. 

“He what?!” 

“He was just angry.”

“That’s no excuse.” 

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “If it helps I did slap him.” Daniel let loose a little smile and took another sip from his drink. “He had a really bad day. He wouldn’t talk to me. I was just trying to help.” I watched Daniel’s brows furrow. The base of his beer bottle was rolling around the bar top as he thought. 

“Do you remember in sophomore year, I had just gotten into a massive fight with my parent about school and I wouldn’t tell you anything about it.”

“Yeah. It pissed me off. You clearly needed to vent. You ended up punching Marty Finch in anger the next day.” 

Daniel laughed before turning towards me again, eyes serious. “Well, I was too ashamed to talk to you about it. Then, I mean. You were always much better than me in school. I didn’t want you to think less of me because I was having so much trouble with something so simple.” I stared into the clear liquid in my glass. “What I’m saying is...he may have felt like you would have seen him as less of a man if he told you how he was feeling at the time.” 

Daniel reached over and took my hand in his, laying it on the bartop. “He still didn’t have to call me a bitch though,” I said with a sad smile on my lips. 

“Yeah, no. That was a fucking asshole move.” My friend glanced down at my now empty drink. “Another gin martini, dry.” He said to the bartender, who removed my empty glass. Daniel scanned my face. It was hard to hide the depressing way I was feeling. “You really miss him don’t you?”

I nodded, looking away from him and out into the club. “I really do. Danny, I miss him so fucking mu-” I froze. I must be imagining things. My eyes must be lying to me because there was no way I was looking at Jisung sitting on the other side of the club. His arm was draped around a girl with dyed hair. Her hand was squeezing his thigh as he whispered something in his ear. His eyes met mine.

There was a flash of something. Sadness? Guilt? Longing? But, it disappeared before I could question it. Daniel followed my gaze, tapping his finger against the back of my hand. “What’s up? Who is that?” Anger started to boil in the pit of my stomach. Maybe not anger. Anger wasn’t a good word. It hurt more than it made me angry. Jealousy. Jealousy is what was eating away at my insides as his hand played with her hair. 

Danny looked over at the man who used to be mine with a curious gaze. “Jisung,” I whispered, turning back and downing the new martini in one gulp. The alcohol burned the back of my throat distracting me from the stabbing pain in my heart. 

Daniel started to get up, fury in his eyes burning like white hot flames. My hand stopped him from doing something he would later probably not regret at all. “Y/n- are you kidding right now? I’m gonna kill him!”

“Danny, stop. Let’s just go.” 

I took his hand in mine and dragged him away from the bar. The air around me felt heavy. Like I was up on a mountain. Pushing away the pain in my chest I dragged my friend away from the club, not feeling the pair of doe eyes on my back. 

◈

The drone of the television played through the apartment. It was raining outside. It had been raining since the night of the club about four days ago. Daniel sat on my couch, my legs across his lap. A half empty bottle of wine sat on the coffee table and a fully drained one lay next to it. Much alcohol had been consumed in the past few days between the two of us. Daniel; to make me feel better. Me; to forget about the hurt I felt in my chest. 

A light buzz was hovering in my brain as I took another sip from my wine glass. “I know that now is probably not the time,” Daniel said, changing topics. “But, I had a question to ask you about Marin.” 

Marin was Daniel’s girlfriend. She was quite possibly the sweetest person I had ever met. Daniel was lucky to have her. “Oh no. What did you do? You didn’t run here to escape from your fuck up did you? Danny, she’ll kill me! I like being alive!” He laughed patting my leg a few times.

“No. Don’t worry. I wanted your advice.” 

“Hit me with it, baby,” I said drinking the rest of my glass dry. 

Daniel set the glass on the table, turning to me. “Is two and a half years too soon?” I pouted my lips and looked out the window. The view was still immaculate without Jisung next to me. It just felt...lonely even with Danny here. 

“Too soon for what?”

He sighed, that familiar cheeky grin popping onto his cheeks. “I want to ask Marin to marry me.” 

“GET OUT OF TOWN!” I screamed. He laughed when I started squealing. My hands slapped at his shoulder. My little Danny was going to get married. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I came to Seoul to ask for your advice. And also to ask if you’ll be my ‘best man’ of sorts.” 

“Are you kidding? Of course, I will!” I jumped up from the couch and poured us both more wine. “Have you asked her dad?” He nodded taking a sip of the sweet alcohol. 

“So you think I should do it?”

“Fuck yeah, I think you should do it!” I stared at Daniel with a smile on my face. I could remember when he had gotten his long-legged ass stuck in a baby swing at the park for three hours before we had to find a pair of bolt cutters and run off with the swing. “I cannot believe you are getting married! My little Danny!”  I said leaning over and wrapping my arms around his neck, carefully making sure not to spill my wine. 

The sound of the front door opening had me pulling away from my friend. My eyes widened as Jisung stepped through the door, keys in hand. His stare moved from me to Daniel then zeroed in on my hand still on his neck. 

“Jisung-” I shot up on my feet setting the wine on the table. 

He scoffed closing the door, shoving the keys in his back pocket. “Don’t let me interrupt your date. I just came to get some things.” Jisung’s voice sounded like music to my ears despite its cold tone. He wore a pair of old ripped pair of black jeans I hadn’t seen since we started dating and a baggy white shirt. His usual noir beanie covering his dark hair. 

Daniel awkwardly tapped on his wine glass and watched as Jisung traveled into the bedroom. He looked and me before nudging his head towards the door. I mouthed a few choice words to him which resulted in a silent argument. 

“One of us is going to go in there, and if I do he’s walking out with a black eye and some missing teeth.”

“Oh please. You know he could kick your ass with his hands tied behind his back,” I whispered. 

“Why can’t you date less athletic people? I’d like to be able to defend your honor.” He started pushing me towards the bedroom with his foot. He groaned when I resisted. “Y/n, it’s obvious you're miserable without him and he doesn’t look too happy either.”

Taking a long deep breath, I turned towards the open doorway. My whole body went numb as I took the short steps into the room. Jisung stood at our closet, a bag open on the bed. His head turned hearing the door close behind me. 

“Don’t worry. I’m just getting some clothes. I didn’t think you’d be here.” He tossed a hoodie into the bag, not meeting my eyes. I watched him pack for a moment. He clearly felt uncomfortable under my stare. “I’m going to be out of your hair soon. You don’t have to watch me like a hawk.”

“Don’t leave,” 

His movements stopped, his back away from me towards the closet. An almost perfect replication of the night he left. His fingers twitched as if he was debating putting back the shirt in his hands. 

“I’m a little tipsy, but I’m sober enough to know that if you walk out that door....I’m going to lose you forever.” 

My eyes searched for any sign for me to continue, but his face stayed hidden from me. Jisung dropped his head but stayed silent. I watched his fingers tighten over the fabric in his hand. 

My hand reached out, afraid to touch him, but longing to feel him again. His head turned feeling the brush of my palm on his arm. “Jisung,” He sighed hearing his name. “Please don’t leave.”

Jisung turned around, looking down at me. “I saw you.” He whispered. I saw tears pricking at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you. At the club. You were with the guy in there. I saw you walk in together.” He searched my eyes for something I did not know. 

“So did I; I saw the girl.” He sighed, head falling into his hands. “Did you-...God I can’t even say it.” He winced when I tried to laugh through the awkwardness. “If you did-...we were technically on a break so... I have no right to be mad at you.”

“Even if I did, I would feel terrible if you weren’t.” 

Jisung looked at me with sincerity. “You didn’t sleep with her?” He shook his head, staring down at me. Just one look into his big doe eyes told me he was telling the truth. 

“She kissed me after you left, but I stopped her.” I couldn’t help the smile slipping onto my face. Jisung nodded towards the door before speaking again. “Is that your new boyfriend?” 

“Danny? Hell no. He’s my best friend from back home. He came to visit.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Jisung said in one breath. His hands reached for my cheeks smashing his lips against mine. My fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt tugging him closer to me. Jisung kissed me as if he was afraid I would disappear the moment he let go of me. His lips danced against mine, desperate to be with me again. I pulled away resting my forehead against his.

“Well...I mean technically...we dated in senior year, but that was a long time ago.” 

He nodded, fingers threading through my hair as his lips returned to mine. I was just as hungry for him as he was for me. He smiled feeling me push him backward, without breaking our kiss. He laughed quietly when I moved him into the open closet instead of a wall. Jisung straightened himself up before taking control and pinning me up against the doorframe. 

“Wait,” He said breaking the kiss, smiling as I chased after his lips. “Didn’t you say you lost your virginity your senior year.” He asked looking into my eyes, brows furrowed.

“Umm...shhhh. This is about us, yeah?” 

Before he could say anything else about Daniel, I kissed him again tugging off his beanie and running my fingers through his soft locks. He broke away and nuzzled his face in my neck, arms wrapped tightly around my waist. “I’m so sorry, baby. I was a total ass. I should never have said those things.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I regret everything that happened. My emotions were all wack because of my period.”

“Well...I did deserve that slap.” 

“Maybe a little.”

“Hey!” He laughed, letting me know he wasn’t really offended. My thumb brushed over his cheek as I looked up into his eyes. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I was too ashamed about what had happened that day to talk about it and I took it out on you. Can you forgive me?”

Leaning up, I kissed him gently savoring every moment. “Jisung, I love you. You never have to be ashamed to tell me anything. I love you unconditionally. Even when you leave coffee mugs all over the house. Even when you forget to pick up groceries when I ask you eight times in an hour.” He laughed resting his forehead against mine. “My love for you is greater than any mistake you could make or problem you have.”

“You are so cheesy.”

“You love it.” 

“I love you,” 

Jisung tilted his head, leaning down for another kiss. This one was slower, more careful. A knock on the door pulled us apart. Danny stood in the entryway, drinking from his wine glass. “So I’m assuming you will need a plus one on the wedding invite?” He said with a smile. 

“Jisung?” He closed his eyes and smiled hearing his name from my lips. “Would you go to a wedding with me?” He nodded, kissing me on the cheek. 

“Would love to, baby.” 

Daniel walked over and reached over to shake Jisung’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you,” He said with his goofy, lopsided grin. Jisung warily looked him up and down but smiled and shook his hand. “You want to be a groomsman?”

“Depends. Did you fuck the love of my life when you were eighteen?”

“JISUNG!”

“WHAT?”

◈

Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask!

Masterlist

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

09.

new beginnings are always the hardest part

Despite everything you said – being happy to see your two childhood friends finally acknowledging each other, coming to better terms with their relationship, you didn’t talk to the two for a week though, slightly pissed that they let their damn egos get the best of them.

Really, boys were stupid. So stupid. How stupid? Fucking stupid!

Yet, at the same time, you merely used it as an excuse to really re-evaluate your stance on things.

Honestly, it was nice to have them work through their feelings and finally see each other on equal footing, despite the fact that they had to use their goddamn fists and talk civilly- nope. Childhood friends with serious issues that were slathered by insecurities and bullying could only be mended by fists and screaming. Still, despite having the two finally coming to terms with each other, they still felt so far and out of reach. You had to wonder, where were you in all of that?

Exhaling through your nose, you rested your head against the mop handle, running your forehead through the wood to ground you. “Stupid,” you say to no one in particular. Well, maybe it was more to yourself.

Tiredly making your way through your home, sluggishly pulling the door open, you announced your presence, voice slurring. “I’m home.”

All you wanted to do was bury yourself in bed, take a short nap, or drown in bath- 

Something was off.

Immediately, your senses were on high.

First, you caught a familiar scent – two of them, actually. One smelled like sweat and body wash, the other was of burnt sugar. Then, there were the familiar gentle beats. Rushing towards your living room, you all but slammed the door wide open, yellow eyes opening just as wide.

Green and carmine eyes widened at your presence. Staring. You blink. They blinked. You blink again. Izuku raised a tentative hand, smiling weakly. Bakugou just stared with his hands in his pockets.

…

…

…

“OLD MAN! What are they doing here!?”

At your outburst, your grandfather comes running towards you whacking you in the head, hard.

The boys winced at that.

Your grandfather eyes you sternly. “Don’t be rude to our guests, foolish girl!”

The two guests just eye you – one worried, with his hands out, the other in awed concern, feeling the pain from the whack.

"You didn't answer my question," you growled, the back of your head still hurting. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING HERE!?"

"Simple: they came to visit."

"AND YOU JUST LET THEM!?"

"They were standing outside the house, it's rude to just leave them there."

"THEN YOU SHOULD'VE! THEY'RE NOT FUCKING STRAYS!"

"They're our guests, foolish girl."

"You should've left them out, then asked for my opinion!"

Beside you, the two boys shifted their eyes going back and forth at your heated exchange with your grandfather.

"Why should I? It's my house."

"Don't I get a say?"

"Do you want me to hit you again?" he raised a hand threateningly, causing you (and the two boys) to wince and take a step back, the back of your head still throbbing. "Ha, thought so." You gave him a sneer, he smirked smugly.

“I’m going to cook now, keep them company!” turning his back, he casually waves off at you three, walking to the kitchen. “Have them greet your parents.”

Sighing, taking a few calming breaths, you glared at the two boys, gesturing then with your head. Without a word, they were on their feet and followed after you.

It’s been a while since Bakugou’s ever been to your house. Izuku comes over a lot, has been over the years. He can't help but feel jealous of how close the two of you are, he felt so left out.

There was an altar by the corner of the living room, where he found you kneeling in front of, lips pressed tightly staring hard at the wooden cabinet long and hard. Eventually, you took hold of the doors and opened, expression softening as you saw the smiling photos of your deceased parents.

“Hi Ma, Pa, looked who came over to visit.”

Quickly getting to his knees behind you, Izuku gestured for Bakugou to do the same, hands pressed together in front of his chest. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s been a while!”

“A-Ah, yeah…” Bakugou says, awkwardly, you had to roll your eyes at that.

“These idiots finally got their act together,” you reported, almost smugly. “still, doesn’t change the fact that they’re the worst knuckleheads in this day and age.”

Some would think that it was a little odd to have your guests come and greet the dead, but this was quite the tradition in your home. Most of your family’s close friends were used to it, Izuku included.

Knowing this, Bakugou felt left out than ever.

For he remembered the day after that day, how his parents spoke in hushed tones when he came home after nearly dying by the hands of a sludge villain and saved by Deku – of all people, the solemn look in their faces after a quick inquiry on the bruise on his jaw, tears alarmingly threatening to spill from his mother’s eyes, his father’s careful expression – “(Name)-chan’s parents, they’re dead.”

It was all too surreal.

You missed out on school for a whole week, grieving. Classmates were murmuring amongst themselves at your absence, having heard of your little altercation and the death of your parents on the same day. Also, students fawned over him for the Sludge Incident, for managing to hold back the villain (when in actuality he was barely breathing had Deku not jumped in) which was honestly the last thing on his mind.

Deku, who was surprisingly left alone, would stare at your chair worriedly, thumbs quick to send a quick text in between classes. He had wanted to ask him about you but held himself back. Pride and guilt held him back. Also, it felt like it wasn’t his place anymore, neither was it his right.

During the funeral, he finally saw you dressed in an all-black kimono his heart clenching at the bags under your eyes, the redness surrounding it, your puffy tear-stained cheeks, the dullness in those once bright (e/c) eyes.

When they arrived, immediately both his parents gave you a big hug, you barely hugged them back, much to their concern. Auntie Inko gave you a hug, as well, when she and Deku arrived. As for him? He kept himself back, hidden, knowing how his presence would only make things worse. And yet, he still came because he was worried about you, so, so, so fucking worried.

You were barely there, receptive or alive. Bakugou hated it, it wasn’t you – you were never much of a crier, always wearing your heart on your sleeve and brimming with life. Now though, it looked as though you were half-alive. He couldn’t blame you really, he can’t imagine losing his parents, of having a part of you die.

While your grandfather attended to guests, receiving condolence money and sympathies, he ensured a distance was kept, knowing you needed time to mourn. Judging from the redness in your eyes, the blankness in your gaze, it would probably take a while.

Looking at you now, seeing the color back in your face, your eyes, the lively (if not, careful hostile) aura emanating off you sets him at ease. Well, almost.

He tried not to linger on the fact that he had a part in utterly destroying a part of you the same way he did Deku, but it bled through as the months went by. All he could do was stare at your parent’s faces, silently offering his heartfelt apologies for all those years he wasted.

"GRANDDAUGHTER! WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, BRING THEM TO THE DOJO!" A yell came from the kitchen, disrupting the peace.

His eyes fell to your form, shoulders slacking. He may not see your face, but he could tell there was a sour expression written all over your face.

Then you sighed, twisting in place to look at the two.

"How about it, boys? Wanna let off some steam?"

The dojo was adjoined to your house - a small traditional dojo that's about ages old, you're not sure but you know but it's been there forever - or so you're told.

A wide space greeted you, polished wooden floors and tatami mats on the ground, calligraphy of 'fortitude', and your family name done by your grandmother hung from the walls along with some ornaments and nondescript paintings that were as old as you (maybe) – everything was in place.

With your grandfather as the head of the family, duly seeing that he lived the family legacy and upheld tradition, he saw fit that the dojo was well-taken care for, that his students weren’t weaklings – family or not, and that the Yoruichi family lived up to its potential and filled with honor (this part, he drilled hard on you when you were younger). In addition, he was the current coach of your school's martial arts club and you were his star pupil, which spelled big favouritism, but nobody complained after sweeping the floor with them on the first day.

Growing up, this place was your safe haven, you could always find peace here, it also held so many good memories that smelled pleasantly of bamboo, faintly of wood, and the faint sounds of a wind chime resounding.

Unable to help yourself, you threw yourself to the ground sideways – an act catching the boys by surprise, Izuku to shrieked, and Bakugou to start - hands planted firmly on the ground, cartwheeling away before doing it again except doing it forward, then sideways, and then your body twisted in mid-air, before landing gracefully on your feet arms raised on both sides.

"(Nickname)!" Izuku called after you, causing you to giggle, especially because your hair was a complete mess now.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." Patting your hands to the sides, the feel of your skirt made you realize why both boys seemed red in the face. Thankfully, you wore shorts underneath.

With Shinsou busy and final exams in the way, your sparring sessions had been put to a hold. You missed sparring, training – even if it were against Aizawa-san or your grandfather, you loved the thrill of fighting. It was in your blood, after all.

“Really, you shouldn’t be so reckless!” berates your green-haired friend, marching towards you, the blond following close behind.

Looking around, the blond teen took in his surroundings - the aged wooden beams overhead, the cubbies, your grandmother's calligraphy set neatly set in one of the fine cabinets, until his eyes stopped on some pictures. It was the three of you, during your younger days when your grandfather wanted to train all three of you.

Unaware of the way his eyes softened at the picture, he continually looked over and relived the memories – he could almost hear Deku’s crying as he tried to punch hard, him hollering in mad glee, and then you lording over the two because the dojo was ‘your turf’. Carmine eyes traced the smile on your 8-year old face, pulling away to find that you were wearing the same smile. Except, unlike the photo – where the smile was directed at him, Deku was crying in it – your smile was directed towards your green-haired friend who marvelled at the trophies you and some fellow students of the dojo won.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion, but it was always there. He hated it.

As a child, since discovering his quirk, he’d been showered by praise and was the center of everyone’s attention. But for him, the only praise and attention he wanted was from you. However, because he was a shitty kid with an overgrown pride, you barely batted his way and spared him even an ounce of acknowledgment. Honestly, he’s been starved for your attention for so long now.

Only when you had shoved his kindness away in middle school did he realize how badly he’d hurt you, how little of an effort he did to truly reach out to you. He had a handful of ‘friends’, but not really, and you had Izuku – a friendship built on trust and love, he wanted that. But he was too selfish and prideful to do shit about it.

Before he knew it, Bakugou acted on his feelings.

“(Name),” you looked up, (e/c) eyes blinking in question. “let’s spar.”

“Ka-Kacchan-?”

“Sure.” You said with a shrug.

Green eyes blinked at you, then at the blond-haired teen, darting back and forth at the two of you. Were you really doing this now?

“W-Wait a minute! Are we really doing this now?” Izuku tried to reason, seeing at the two of you began to circle each other, him in the middle. “We should just talk, recall the good times! L-Like…Like…um…” the tension between you two, it was unpalpable, raw, and intense. “(N-Nickname)! Remember the first time you showed us a kick split and Kacchan tried to mimic?”

As funny as that memory was, his two friends were too busy circling each other, resembling animals in the wild. Their expressions were blank, but their eyes spoke too much.

(E/c) met carmine. Both unwavering, unyielding, and both hungry.

“(Nickname)? Kacchan? Are you listening to me?”

Readying into a stance, you closed your eyes as you took a deep inhale, opening them when exhaling slowly out your mouth. Bakugou’s fingers were tingling, smoke emitting.

“(Nickname), Kacchan, please there’s no need to-!”

Without a moment of hesitation, Bakugou was lunging forward, the explosion – which was half-powered, Izuku noticed – leaving a cloud of smoke behind that momentarily filled the area.

You didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the smoke, one arm quickly raised to guard against his fist, and the other readily grabbing hold of his knee that followed soon after. With all your might, you pushed him off. (In a fit of panic, Izuku cleared the smoke clouds away with a fling of his fingers at 2% power.)

Bakugou threw his fists, to which you easily deflected or swatted aside, keeping the blows away from you. Tossing his hand away, you planted your hands on the ground and swung your legs to hit him low, Bakugou quickly moved out of the way, rather clumsily. For a moment, he swore he saw you smirk, swinging your legs around with ease to swing at him again.

He had realized then that he had no idea how you fought; he was going into this blind. You both (three, counting Deku) may have trained together under the same dojo when you were younger, but that had been years ago! Plus, being a Yoruichi meant that you were proficient in other forms of martial arts. But again, emotions got the best of him. For some reason, despite being caught at a disadvantage, he found himself gleaming.

You were fast – much faster than he had anticipated, and extremely agile. He took note of the fact that your eyes were its usual (e/c) color, despite the fact that it was dark out. All the punches and hits received were all raw strength, honed from years of training under your grandfather. He always knew you were a capable fighter, despite having not used your quirk just yet. Fuck, were you mocking him?!

Seeing the frustration in his eyes, you smirked, grabbing hold of his incoming fist, catching him off guard, to toss him aside. So answer: yes, you were mocking him.

He had no idea how much you had studied his fighting style over the years, becoming familiar with his straightforward tactic – it was so predictable. And after seeing the Sports Festival and the fight with Izuku from yesterday, you easily caught up on how adaptable he was given the situation and had quick reflexes. It made you sick.

Yet at the same time, despite knowing this, both of you seemed rather in tune fighting each other.

Izuku, who had long given up trying to be the peacekeeper, could only watch in awe at the two. The mood between you two was…something, to say the least. And watching you two fight? It felt as though it were a dialogue if that even made sense – a mad disarray of Kacchan lashing out on you, you easily avoiding all his punches and explosion, you were able to catch Kacchan off-guard a lot whenever you changed fighting styles to which he’d manage to counter in his own reckless way. It was a nail biter to watch, yet it was fascinating at the same time. The two of you were in perfect synchronization with each other.

A cloud of smoke filled the air, your eyes narrowed to see through just as a palm cut through, nearly punching your cheek clean. Ducking a swipe of Bakugou's smoking fists, you took hold of his wrists and twisted them inward, Bakugou barely had time to react and the explosions went off his skin.

Angered, he used your closeness in an attempt to headbutt you, but you easily evaded, losing balance in the process. Seeing this, he grabbed hold of your hand, tugging hard to twirl against him, back to his chest. Instantly, he caught hold of your other hand. The position looked as though you were dancing, it was rather intimate.

"What's the matter? Not gonna use your quirk on me?" he taunted in your ear, making you shiver.

"As a matter of fact," throwing your head forward and back, smacking your hair to his face, he releases you - just barely - but it was enough to free you, sweeping him off his feet to pin him to the ground – an elbow to his back and one arm stretched out painfully behind him. "I don't need my quirk to beat you. I'm plenty strong on my own." Releasing your hold, you tilt your head to the side, unable to help the smug look on your face, faint lines of yellow lining your eyes. "Not bad for one 'seemingly quirkless', huh?"

Quirkless. Something in him roiled, especially with the way you said it.

Pushing himself off, making you lose balance, he grabbed hold of your collar and nearly slammed you to the ground, switching positions. “What the fuck is your problem?”

(E/c) eyes gave him a cold hard stare, the corner of your lip slightly twitching. It made his tenuous temper flare.

Tightening his hold, he asked again. “What is your fucking problem?!”

“My fucking problem is you!”

Okay, that threw him off.

Bakugou pulls back, blinking at your response, completely dumbfounded “I thought you were ‘working on being a better friend’? Was that all for show?” His voice was soft, hoarse. It hurt that after all this time, he was still a stranger to you. Yet at the same time, he's rather confused with how lightly you've been handling this.

Unable to look at him any longer, you look away. Those carmine eyes were full of hurt; you didn't like it.

"Let go of me," you tell him, his hand had slackened, allowing you to push him off. And he lets you, feeling defeated as he watches you pick yourself up.

His eyes turn to Deku for help, assurance, assistance, never would he have thought that he'd come to Deku - of all people - for such. Deku just stared, weakly at you, then at him – at a loss.

Before you could walk away, Bakugou grabbed your arm, his grip hard. "No, you're not walking away that easy, (Name)."

Your name sounds so foreign when he says it, you gulp, refusing to look his way. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

He glowers, tugging you back to face him, staring you down. "What I want is for you to stop being so fucking difficult and talk to me!"

You couldn't help scoffing, harshly tugging your arm free. "You? Talk? Wow."

Bakugou had always known you were a petty person, but to be this difficult at the same time? It was really grating his nerves.

"(Nickname)..." Izuku berates in the background, which was silenced by Bakugou.

"CAN YOU FOR ONCE JUST LISTEN TO ME!?"

"K-Kacchan..."

"WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS THEN?"

“I’M FUCKING TRYING TO BE CIVIL, BUT YOU’RE BEING SO FUCKING DIFFICULT!”

“YOU? CIVIL? IF THAT ISN’T THE JOKE OF THE CENTURY!”

(Somewhere in the kitchen, Shihan casually cooks dinner, knowingly oblivious to the explosion, yelling, screaming, going on in his beloved dojo. Casually checks the spice intake on one of his dishes, adding a bit more.)

Bakugou opens his mouth, about to berate on one of your bullshit of an excuse to give him the time to speak only to stop. He realized how much you’d instigate and rile him up, and how much he’d fall for it. This was never-ending, the ceaseless anger between you two, it had to stop. “Why won’t you give me the chance, (Name)?” his voice was brittle, so brittle and soft, from yelling and of hurt.

Vulnerability was something you never expected of him, but you were too proud to even recognize it from him of all people. “Your life is fucking perfect, why the hell do you want to make a mess outta mine!?”

“Perfec- “he nearly spat out the word, hating it. “you think my life is perfect?”

Rolling your eyes, hard, Bakugou swore it was enough to see the insides of your head. “Come on, do I need to list it down? You and your perfect family, your perfect little cozy home, your perfect academic performance, your perfect quirk,” that part just had to be overly emphasized, dramatized, much to his disgust “life just hands you everything perfectly in a neat little bow-“

“My life is anything but perfect! I'm anything but fucking perfect! My life’s not fucking perfect because I don’t have you in it, (Name)!” he angrily yells.

That made you stop. Izuku, too.

And after a few seconds of saying it, as did Bakugou. "Fuck," he muttered, ducking his head, to hide his reddening face, he was reeling at his confession – pent up after being so long overdue.

“…what…?”

Izuku’s hands slapped over his mouth, a small noise coming threatening to come out as he watched the two of you in keen interest. “…K-Kacchan…(N-Nickname)…”

(Now would probably be the worst time to gush, squeal, or scream over this, as though he were watching a rom-com movie, but he couldn’t help it! Izuku had always been the biggest supporter of you two, wanting you both to end up together since you were children.)

After all this time, he liked you, too?

When he looked up, he was surprised to see how red you were – you were, like him, blushing hard. Like that one time you visited to give your ochugen gifts.

Wait.

“Wait.”

“I’m outta here!”

The door slammed shut behind you.

Dinner was an awkward occasion, an extremely awkward one especially because your grandfather had Bakugou sit right next to you. 

Your grandfather, painfully knowing that he is, acted oblivious to the tension and casually chatted up the boys - Izuku mostly doing the talking, whilst Bakugou mumbled here and there, you kept your head low avoiding the gaze of anyone in the table.

Just after dinner, you made a beeline for your room, uncaring for your grandfather's wrath - you could deal with that later, you just wanted a moment to yourself after Bakugou's confession.

“My life is anything but perfect! I'm anything but fucking perfect! My life’s not fucking perfect because I don’t have you in it, (Name)!”

Fuck.

His words rang in your ear, all the blood rushing the instant his voice rang in your head.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," you wailed into your pillow.

With special permission from Aizawa-san, and Izuku's insistency, you found yourself at the prestigious UA once again in time for its culture festival.

To say the place was huge would be an understatement, and that’s saying because you’ve been here a lot whenever Izuku was injured, more than just three USJs, it felt like its own continent! This time though, it was colorful and vibrant than usual.

The school went all out, I see. You thought to yourself, after all the bad shit that happened to them.

You still held Izuku with careful regard, it was always easy to forgive him, but appreciated the gesture that he extended his invitation to you. He wanted you to be there, to experience the joy of a high school culture festival even if you two weren’t school mates anymore. (Also, it was his way of saying sorry.) All things considered; things immediately went back to normal between you two.

(Save for one)

Meeting up with your best friend at the front gate, you were surprised to find him covered in dirt and grass. But before you could even ask, he hurriedly brought you backstage to meet up with his classmates before the show started.

“Everyone this is my childhood friend, Yoruichi (Name)!”

Giggling at his stutter, you shouldered him playfully before bowing at his classmates. “Hi everyone! It’s nice to meet the lot of you!”

A series of ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ came afterwards, soon after, the two of you were bombarded with questions. Tiredly, you turn to your best friend, sharing a look. Man, I miss the days when we were invincible.

“Ah, it was that girl who yelled at him at the hospital!” a tall plain-looking guy pointed at you, to which Iida yelled that it was rude to point. You could only offer an apologetic smile, nudging at your best friend’s shoulder again.

“Eh? I didn’t know Midoriya had another childhood friend!” some guy with flaming red hair and shark teeth said, kindly and in shock.

“More than that, Midoriya’s been keeping this beauty from us!” a small purple-haired boy screeched, angrily turning to your best friend. On instinct, you stepped in front of your friend protectively.

“Wow, I’m offended you don’t talk much about me, Izuku.” You teased, elbowing the green-haired teen. He laughed, scratching his cheek.

“This is so radical, a female childhood friend. Must be nice~” a boy, with a streak of black over his hair that could only remind you of Pikachu, gushed. “But wait, haven’t I seen you at that one café- “

“Dunce face, shut your mouth.” Bakugou suddenly appeared in your line of sight, you immediately turned away before he met your gaze, fighting the blush creeping its way to your cheeks.

“Ne, ne, ne,” a pink-skinned and pink-haired girl gushed, nearly shoving her face into yours. “So, like, is Midoriya your boyfriend?”

In unison, you two stared at each other before bursting into laughter, used to the question for so many years.

“No way,” Izuku says, trying to calm down. “(Nickname)’s like a sister to me!”

“I second that! Izuku’s such a whiny big brother with a big brain.”

“(Nickname), you didn’t have to put it like that…”

Grinning toothily, you playfully ruffled his curly locks, discreetly eyeing a brunette who seemed to sigh in relief.

“Wait a minute, since Yoruichi’s your childhood friend, does that mean that Bakugou’s your childhood friend, too?” a short-haired punk-looking girl asked, a few heads turning to the blond. Said blond stilled, expression a careful blank.

“Yeah, he is.” The reply came easy, nonchalantly. Playfully. “Is. Was. Somewhere in between.” You wiggled your hand in the air for emphasis.

It was a cold response, almost as cold as Todoroki’s ice.

“But that’s enough about me, I heard you guys were putting on a live performance?” the mood easily shifted, two kinds of excitement stirring from the class. “And Izuku, you’re dancing? Since when!?”

“Sadly, we kicked him out.” The pink-haired girl says, arms crossed.

“Deku-kun worked his best!” Ochako defended, cheeks puffing.

“That’s right! That’s right!”

“Ah, Midoriya-chan looks mad?”

“More than that, he’s blushing too.”

Several eyes turned to the green-haired teen, cheeks puffed and an angry flush dusting his cheeks, glaring your way.

“I-I mean, dancing sounds fun. Plus, I’ll have you know that we’ve danced together before, (Nickname)!”

(e/c) eyes narrowed playfully, finger poking at freckled cheeks. “Dance Revolution, Just Dance, and Dance Master don’t count, dumdum. Plus, you suck at those!”

“She’s so brutal!”

“Almost like a female Bakugou.”

“Uwa, it’s kinda rare to see Midoriya like this. He seems more comfortable and less grounded.”

“I see what you’re saying! And he usually shies away from girls!”

“Yoruichi’s got spunk, doesn’t she?”

“Oi, we got to prepare! Come on, now!”

Realizing this, you stepped away from Izuku, wishing him luck. He had told you that he wanted you to meet someone after the show, you could only nod at that.

Meeting carmine eyes, you faltered, body shifting to move, but stopped. Braving a look his way – much to his shock, you offered a small smile. “Break a leg.”

Their show was amazing, spectacular, a showstopper, and you made sure to relay your praises to the class afterwards.

Shortly after the show (and sharing your thoughts about their presentation), you were introduced to Eri, the sweet little girl Izuku told you about during his work-study. The moment you saw her, she immediately won your heart. Oh, and you were introduced to Mirio, a goofy senior who was super friendly and an amazing presence to behold.

Without even knowing, you somehow wounded up with the rest of 1-A joining whatever sorts of fun the cultural festival has to offer. Most of the time, you stuck close with Eri, who'd grown fond of you after your first meeting, sometimes, sticking with the girls (even though your nose would crinkle at girlish topics), or even hung with Bakugou's ragtag of friends (of which, you were surprised to find that he had a clique of his own!).

It was a rather eventful day, and your legs were all tired out from constantly moving around. Still, it was a fun day. Sitting against a railing, you watched as Izuku ran off towards the gate, a paper bag in hand. Smiling at his retreating frame, you leaned back and watched around, eyeing the festivities - or what's left of it, feeling suddenly lonely about it all. This was where Izuku and Bakugou went to school, this was their cultural festival, and you were just an outsider.

“Here,” you blinked as a churro appeared out of nowhere, offered to you. Retracting your hands from your sides, you carefully took the treat in your hands and looked up, meeting carmine - Bakugou.

“Thanks,” you reply, dumbly.

Sitting next to you, Bakugou was strangely quiet, hands buried in his pocket. “What did you think of our performance?” he asked, rather quietly.

“Pretty kickass,” you say honestly, still staring at your treat. "I forgot how well you could play the drums."

The corners of his mouth twitched, but his expression remained a careful, almost wistful blank. His eyes though, they were another story. “I’m glad you came, (Name).”

Scoffing, a smile found its way to your lips, you bump his shoulder with yours. Surprised, he looks up, eyes finding yours, (e/c) warm. “Yeah, me too.”

Something inside him stirs, strangely, comfortingly. He could feel his throat drying just looking at you, just as you bit on your churro - a big crunch, followed by sugar falling off.

“You should consider transferring.”

“Pass, I’ll just take the supplementary lessons Aizawa-san offers.”

"Like they'll do you good."

"Hm,” you swallow, using the back of your hand to wipe the cinnamon sugar off your mouth. “lest you forget I have my shitty old man, and he teaches me plenty."

He mulls at your words as you chew on your churro, enjoying the youthful vibe of the cultural festival. Truth be told, being here actually made you jealous. You never enjoyed the cultural festival at your middle school because everyone did such a mediocre job and could care less about having fun. But this? This was nice. Relaxing, fun even.

"What happened to you?"

Stopping midchew, you let the words sink in - word by word, before finishing the last piece of your churro. Mulling over his question, you leaned your head back to watch the cotton candy-colored skies. "I gave up." You said simply, decidedly, honestly. "You seem to disregard people who care about you."

He swallowed thickly at your words. There were a million things he wanted to say while you were right there, no animosity between the both of you for once, however, he found himself choked up. All the words, questions, they held up in his throat. It felt pretty fucking lame of him.

However, if anything, there was one thing he's been meaning to say to you for a very long time. "(Name)," he starts, he liked the way your name comes out of his mouth, always liked how it's comparably lighter to say compared to a million words that made up language.  "I'm sorry."

Startled, you turned to him, really stare at him. Two words, yet they carried so much weight. So much history addressed. So many years of fighting, crying, yelling, and stubbornness. All it took were just two words.

Surrendering, you leaned against his form - feeling his body flinch at the contact, but doesn't move away, eyes falling shut. "I'm sorry, too."

That made him scoff, offended at your apology. "Shut up," As far as history has shown, you have nothing to apologize for.

"No, really listen." you continue, eyes dropping to your fingers. "I'm much to blame for our history. I've been so incredibly petty, cynical even whenever it came to you. Izuku was always so forgiving and he'd try to pass it on to me, but I just tossed it aside, never realizing that in the process I was hurting both of my dearest friends. By neglecting Izuku's wishes, I was neglecting you in the process. I was so selfish."

"I've been selfish, too."

"I know."

"And prideful."

"Oh, I know."

The makings of a smile creep its way to his lips. "And shitty."

You snort. "Oh, believe me, I know." Unknowingly, you laughed easily.

Bakugou watches as you laugh - eyes crinkling, cheeks brightened (with a few specks of cinnamon sugar sticking), your teeth were exposing, a light-hearted laugh escaping your mouth, you looked so pretty like that. He rather liked hearing your laugh.

Finding his elbow, you wrapped your arm around his, leaning ever so closer. Bakugou might've jumped at that, but you couldn't tell, too contented at that moment. "I missed you, fucker."

At your admission, he felt his chest stilling, calming. Before realizing it, the expression on his face lightened, softened, carmine eyes taking in your form against it – had you seen it, it would have done you over.

It was the softest expression he could ever muster.

"I missed you, too-"

"Oi, Bakugou!"

"There you are! We've been looking all over for-"

Kaminari and Kirishima both stopped at the sight of two teens, relishing in each other's presence - quite comfortably, too - which was ruined by their arrival.

Curious, you peeked a look at the two teens.

And then there was Bakugou, who was absolutely furious.

masterlist • ten

[taechaos]

That scenario was really good😱 Yeonjun’s last line made me GASP lolol

can you do another scenario where Yeonjun gifts OC roses and a teddy bear through a delivery service so she is shocked when she receives them, how would Jungkook react? 😱

I love jealous/pissed/possessive Jungkook 🥵

YALL JUST REALLY LOVE THE DRAMA 💀💀 making my man suffer like this,,, you'll be hearing from my lawyers

im gonna be including this bit in the scenario so 😎

"Is this for you or me?" you ask Soyeon who can barely keep her eyes open after waking her upon seeing a bunch of gifts when you opened the door of your dorm room to attend your morning lecture. It's a teddy bear holding a bouqet of roses in its fluffy paw, sitting on the hall floor to provide you with today's first surprise.

You know Soyeon is single, and you know Jungkook like the back of your hand: his romance doesn't extend to these cheesy gestures. It may seem rude to not even think of the possibility that it might be your boyfriend's doing, and despite being such a hopeless romantic, you're certain it's not from him.

Soyeon grumbles drowsily as she stretches before rubbing her eyes with her fists. "What?" she yawns tiredly.

"That," you point past the open door and she follows the direction of your finger with puffy eyes.

"Definitely not," she answers with a sleep strained voice. "Look for a card." She doesn't leave room for a response before turning on her side to face away from you and fall back asleep.

You listen to her advice and crouch before the toy to search for anything that would reveal the identity of the delivery person. It's with close inspection that you find a white card stuffed between the roses.

In your hand it reads: Good morning, beautiful. Can't wait to see you in Human Anatomy.

There's your clarity, and you can't doubt it's Yeonjun when Soyeon doesn't even take this course. It's pathetic, you think, to try and court someone who's already in a stable relationship. This isn't him going after you, but beckoning you to go to him just like he said you would before calling your boyfriend a cliché. It more or less sounds like a mind game, and you're stuck between ignoring his advances completely or confronting him about it.

Yeonjun seemed like an understanding guy; he did say he wouldn't go around you asking for a date, and for two days, he hasn't. If he takes orders so well, it wouldn't hurt to tell him to leave you alone once and for all.

That's your reasoning to march down the hall and find Yeonjun after crumbling the note and leaving the gift on someone else's doorstep. Front rows are your go-to spot to not miss a single detail in your lecture, and it's no shocker seeing Yeonjun sitting on a front row bench.

You clench your fists and scowl to intimidate the creep before stomping over to him. Dismissing your demands is out of the question when your stance nothing short of angry. He needs to know you're not playing around, that he can't manipulate your naivety like he's attempting to.

His eyes twinkle the moment they land on you and he stops spinning his pencil to give you his utmost attention. Good, he's listening. You don't trespass the barrier in the form of a stretched out table between you two as you glower over him.

"I'm gonna make this short," you glare with slit eyes, "I don't want anything that has your fingerprints on it nor do I want to hear you speak to me ever again. Leave me alone or I will report you for harrassment. Say yes if you understand."

The light in his gaze dims momentarily as his awed smile falters. "Y-Yes." He appears afraid and innocent, but your gut denies it. "But may I ask why?"

"Oh, you know why," you scoff in a hushed voice, "I don't want your stupid cards and your stupid gifts, and most of all, I don't want you. Get that through your thick skull."

He never knew you could be this mean, and it almost throws off the sweet impression he has of you until he remembers that you're just loyal. He loves that you're so faithful, and he wants you to be faithful to him only. He craves it so deeply, but he says nothing of the sort and instead stammers, "I-I understand. I-I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone if that's what you wa–"

The slam of the lecture room's doors echo in the spacious hall, and you hurriedly take a seat on the edge of the bench to distance yourself from Yeonjun as much as possible. He has to bite his lip to stop a smile from growing on his face from having you sit next to him.

But just as you requested, he doesn't interact with you throughout the lecture except for a few glances to drink in the sight of you being so close to him. Instances like these are the only time he can feel intimate with you, but it'll only get better on from here.

Because the professor assigns a pair project before you're dismissed.

"Before you leave, by the end of the term, you will have a report submitted in pairs regarding senses that affect the human system in a topic of your choice. More information on the college website, along with the assigned pairs. You can go."

"I already checked," Yeonjun whispers to you, making you immediately wear a distasteful expression, "I'm your partner."

"Nuh-uh," you deny childishly before taking out your phone as you stand from the bench to leave after packing your stationaries. You log onto the site just as you receive a notification from Jungkook.

the love of my life ♡: no good morning text? sus

You have to swipe it away out of worry that you'll actually be forced to spend time with Jungkook's new nemesis. The site loads. You scroll past the details of the task and finally land on the pairs.

And there it is—your name next to Yeonjun's on the screen.

"No," you exhale to yourself and rush out to the hall to avoid Yeonjun. "No, no, no."

Below the names explicitly states: No changes in the assigned pairs. It's too big of a coincidence for you to think it's just your bad luck—you're certain bribery is involved, and how lovely that you can't do anything about it.

You take pride in your intelligence, but you can't outsmart him in this situation, especially when your grades are being held over your head to force yourself to be around Yeonjun. Jungkook would get arrested for murder if you involved him in it, and he surely wouldn't leave you alone if you told him about it.

But then again, you promised—no more secrets.

You: good morning kookie!! i was a little busy so i couldn't text you :< did you sleep well?? <3

"Fuck, fuck," you shriek to yourself as you keep walking, not paying attention to where your feet are leading you. Just as long as you're safe from Yeonjun so Jungkook wouldn't find you with him. You need to tell him when the guy isn't around, so you need to wait until his lecture's over–

Yeonjun calls for your name softly while running past the roaming students, and you stop on your tracks with the desire to spit out every insult you have in mind to his face.

"You asshole!" you grit the moment he faces you while breathing heavily. "You planned this, didn't you? I said–"

"I-I'm sorry, but I had nothing to do with it," he pleads with that innocent expression of his. "I promise I-I won't act like before! I'll respect your relationship and stop being weird!"

"Good," you jab a finger at his chest as you seethe, "I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

He frowns with a jutting bottom lip, looking like a kicked puppy as his eyes turn glossy. You are so mean, and he hates it, but his only leverage is that he can be meaner—not to you, never you, but to Jungkook. He's a step ahead of you, and you can shower him with all the bad words you can think of until you heart is content, but he sees it as just a step in the process of owning you.

You think he's submissive and persistent, but no, he's just manipulative.

—

"Don't get mad," you warily caution while lying down on the grass next to your boyfriend, basking in the sun to last the peaceful atmosphere a little longer. His arm is under your back and his hand on your chest as you hold it.

He has his eyes closed as he says, "no promises."

"We promised to tell each other everything, and there's nothing you can do about this one so please don't get mad at me." He quirks a brow when he opens his eyes to see your timid face. "Remember Yeonjun?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me," he groans angrily as he sits up, prompting you to do the same. "You talked to him, didn't you? I specifically fucking said–"

"Can you just listen?" you sigh. "We have a project together." His brows scrunch intimidatingly, making it harder to say what's on your mind. "And this is unrelated but... he brought a gift to my doorstep."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Is there anything more I should listen to? Are you done?"

"H-he said he'd stop acting weird and respect our relation–"

"Fucking bullshit. What, did he also say he just wants to be friends? That he's not interested in you anymore?"

"He didn't say that–"

"And you didn't tell the professor you wanted a different partner? Did you keep the gift too?" he sneers mockingly.

"Jungkook, I can't switch, and no I didn't keep the freaking gift," you defend, feeling offended. He can be so provocative when he's mad. It isn't even your fault! "I'm telling you, there's nothing I can do except to convince him to work together online. Isn't that better?"

He grabs your jaw and pulls you a little closer. His grip is bordering on painful and you hold back a wince. "Are you fucking hearing yourself? You can't even be around him and yet you're not allowed to switch? Listen to me. You go to that fucking professor, tell him this guy is harrassing you and that you can't work with him, and if they don't listen, you go the headmaster. You hear me?" he slightly jolts you to command an answer.

"Y-Yes, but–"

"Don't make any fucking excuses," he hisses and lets go of your face. "If you don't do something about it while I'm giving you the chance, then I will."

You hold onto your chin as you meekly question, "what will you do?"

"Things don't need to escalate," he shrugs as he lies back down. "I'll threaten him with my pocket knife and one wrong word from him, I'll use it."

"Like kill him?" you exclaim in shock.

He rolls his eyes. You take him too seriously sometimes. "No. Just send a message. Now go run off to your professor before I ask Yoongi to be my alibi."

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 42 - Forgive Me 🔞

w/c - 7,611

               Choso hears Itadori call out, “That’s Getou, there’s no doubt about it!”, before he kicks through the door with Megumi close behind. Its clear by their stance that they were ready to attack head on if met by the Titer in the room. When they stop and look around in confusion, Choso finally speaks, “He’s…He left.”, and watches both pairs of eyes squinting at him as if to question how.

               Itadori doesn’t understand what happened but takes in the room and finds Satoru unconscious on the red couch, “Gojo Sensei!”, and runs over to him. After understanding that he’s just sleeping, Itadori becomes further perplexed. “What’s going on?”, he asks his brother as he now gazes upon Naoya and Elska in the bed. ‘Did he put sensei into a REM state?’.

               “So, what the hell was he doing in here?”, Megumi clenches his fists as he remembers the day they found Elska’s wing, becoming aggravated at the fact that they can never fully keep anyone safe. While Choso searched for his words, Megumi quickly walks over to Elska to make sure she’s really ok. He goes to lift up the red sheet but hears, “DON’T!”, from Choso although it was too late. “AHHH!”, with a red face and nearly steaming ears Megumi releases the sheet as is slowly pockets out air to drape over her again. He turns around with wide eyes, “She’s naked!”, and then narrows them as he now gets that Choso was aware but wonders how he’d know.

               “Yikes…”, Itadori can’t help but snicker at Megumi’s embarrassment as it seems to pour from his pores. He watches Choso draw his observers window and him and Megumi both gasp when they see Toji through it. “You found him! Look Megs! He’s alive!”, Itadori’s face beams widely as he can tell of Megumi’s relief, “You’re incredible Choso!”.

               “It wasn’t me.”. Choso is still pissed at himself for allowing Getou to get away and so easily at that. The questions are blatant in the young shamans’ eyes so he continues, “Getou showed me how to locate him…but he said he was here to see Elska.”. His eyes point to the wooden floor now while he falls deeper into the pits of his doubts, “He…there was something off, something different about him.”. Choso recalls only of Getou trying to viciously harm her but can’t ignore the sheer gentleness that he was carrying while he stood over Elska, “He kissed her too…”.

               Megumi is agitated by Choso’s conundrum as it should be pretty clear that Suguru is a horrible person and doesn’t deserve their empathy. “I want to go get my dad!”, he sees through the technique that Toji’s in chains, shirtless and lying on a dirt floor. “Tch, fuck Getou…how do we know this isn’t some kind of set up?”, not that it matters anyways, Megumi isn’t leaving Toji behind.

               “We don’t know…”, Choso quietly says while bringing his focus to Gojo, “We shouldn’t go alone, let’s at least wait for Satoru’s REM cycle to end.”. Megumi pushes Choso harshly and asks, “Why would you put him asleep? Whose fucking side are you on?”.

               Itadori places a hand on Choso’s shoulder, comprehending that there’s still a lot he and Megumi don’t know. “Megs I know you’re upset but you shouldn’t question Choso’s loyalties, he has done everything in his power to help us.”, and smiles when he sees the appreciation in his brother’s eyes. “We really should wait for Gojo Sensei too.”, he looks to the silver shaman, “I know Choso wouldn’t do that unless he had to.”.

               Tiny whimpers can be heard from the bed so all three of them look to see why. Elska is stirring but not awake as she quietly cries in her sleep. A tear travels down from her cheek and lands on Naoya’s forearm, further trailing down the bend of his elbow. Her presence is more potent than before and is also noticeably darker in general as she shows signs of coming to.

               “Elska…”, Choso walks over to her and sits on the edge of the bed again next to her. “She must be having a bad dream.”, he feels his brow furrow while hearing her first sniffle. Watching Megumi search the closet for something Choso turns his focus back to her as he reaches out to hold her hand, wanting her to know she’s not alone. A black shirt lands on his head and he hears Megumi state, “She should have something on at least.”, and finds himself agreeing as he pulls the hem of the shirt down to undrape, messing his hair up in the process. He feels her squeezing his hand and becomes hopeful of her waking, ‘They’re sitting ducks like this…’, and although he will gladly protect them, he’s still feeling shameful that Suguru managed to slip in. ‘How do I tell her? Should I?’.

               Elska feels the hand holding hers and before she opens her eyes, smiles as she says, “Toji…”, and nuzzles her face against it. When she doesn’t hear her beloved’s voice they open and she realizes she’s holding Choso’s hand instead. The truth hits her hard, causing tears to well up in her eyes as she again remembers the Titers taking her winged lover with them. “So it wasn’t just a nightmare...”, she sits herself up, wiping the streams of sorrow away from her cheeks as she takes in Choso’s sad eyes. She notices the being hold up the sheets against her collar bone and quickly catches on and thanks him for being so caring. When she sees Megumi, her heart breaks as she says, “I wasn’t smart enough to save him, I’m so sorry Megumi…”. The boy rushes to her though and embraces her with caution but fiercely. In her ear she hears, “I’m glad you’re ok…”, and she’s caught off guard by his outward concern. When he lets her go, he smiles hopefully and informs her, “We can see my dad now, we know where he is.”. These facts uplift her soul as she follows his finger and sees her beloved that looks unharmed. In a moment of manic confidence, she rashly states, “We have to get him!”.

               “We are definitely going to El, we’re just going to come up with a strategy first while Gojo Sensei rests for a bit!”. Itadori is beyond relieved that she’s actually in one piece. ‘Even if she’s upset, she’s at least alive…’. He looks to his brother and wonders how they’re going to tell her that she had that visitor but Choso seems to understand what he was thinking and begins to explain, saving him from the delivering the twisted news himself.

               “Elska, Getou…he was here not too long ago…”, Choso sees the horror wipe across her face as she tenses up. She seems to settle after a second of thinking which he finds odd but proceeds, “He said he wanted to see you and the worst part is, I believe him.”. The reaction from Megumi after hearing this is obvious while he scowls into expression. Choso is on the fence on believing this change came from some sort of interaction they experienced and wonders if it has to do with her biting him.

               Elska lowers her head slightly after remembering how she drank from Getou, how he tastes. The fact that the fleeting flavor makes her heart race disturbs her completely but she admits, “I’ve learned more about Getou recently. I don’t know how to say this but I don’t think he’s our true enemy…”, Choso eyes narrow while her presence intensifies, becoming alarmed at how much it has changed. “…There’s a man named Genghis that is calling the shots. Getou is still a threat but Genghis…”, the emotions she decoded through Suguru told her of his despair, specifically for the murdered children and for her when she was breaking down after Naoya was attacked. She’s always revolted to the idea of Suguru’s touch but in those moments, she felt like they finally saw each other who the other really is for the first time. “…Genghis is leading the clan for some reason and he seems to have a genuine interest in my kind.”, she wonders why they would let her turn Naoya as they didn’t lift a finger to stop the process. Thinking of her amber eyed lover becoming like her sends a guilted wave of excitement through her, knowing she’ll be able to feel his fangs. Her eyes start to glow and she feels a thirst spiraling through her, looking to the three conscious men in the room she becomes mortified wondering why she would want to feed again so soon. ‘What is going on with me?’.

               Sukuna appears on the side of Itadori’s face, “Feed from me.”, and in a great wave of surprise, Itadori slaps his own cheek where the curse is manifested. “You fucking shit stain!”, Sukuna curses the boy for reprimanding him. Itadori yells awkwardly, “I think not!”, and smiles as he backs away to the door. ‘I don’t want Sukuna pulling a fast one on me…’. He waves for Megumi to follow him but the black-haired shaman stands there with indecision as if he’s debating to offer himself.

               “My dad is able to feed you so maybe my blood will work well too…”, Megumi bashfully mumbles. “I’m not afraid of it so don’t worry about that.”, he gives a small smile as he nears her slowly but is thrown off by how her face says she isn’t going to do that. He stops mid-step, disheartened by the unspoken rejection he feels spiraling from her. ‘Why doesn’t she see me like that?’, he asks himself but decides that she’s been through a lot and doesn’t want to push her.

               Choso says, “You guys should leave for a few, I will take care of the feeding.”, he’s still personally apprehensive about how intimate the process feels but since finding out that his blood will help her become whole, he’s more inclined to do so. Elska seems to respond better to this and nods slightly to confirm that would work for her. He shifts his sitting position so that he’s turned to face her and asks, “Do you need to that right now? Is that what’s going on?”. She sheepishly nods yes again and he responds kindly, “Ok then, it’s not a problem…”, and forms a friendly smile. Itadori seems to have to drag Megumi out who was still silent but once they’re gone Choso scoots a little closer to Elska.

               She’s self-conscious about how dependent she’s likely to become with Choso but knows that things would be better for everyone if she could control that other side of herself. ‘Maybe I should look at this as training.’, she thinks while remembering how Naoya wanted to help her control her pheromones. She feels the difference in her own energy already and wonders how many times it would take to become what she was always meant to be. She motions for Choso to come a little closer since she hasn’t much sheet to work with. His dark brown eyes seems to invade her soul, like they used to but this time she’s comforted by thought of him understanding her, ‘At least someone would…’. When he finally moves closer, she averts her eyes from his while moving his hair out of the way, slowly lowering her face to his neck until she pierces him.

               Choso halts his breathing at first in an attempt to muffle his voice’s ability of expressing the stark truth of how this feels. At first she was gentle but moments after beginning she’s aggressively pulling him closer leaving him victim to her whims. She moans deeply into his ear but he tries his best to pretend that it doesn’t excite him in the slightest. After melting for a minute or so, he feels his whole body being forced above hers as she hangs herself around his neck, inches off of the mattress. The sheets still lie between them acting as a foolish barrier but its weakness becomes apparent as her legs spring out and latch around his hips. “What are you…”, but he finds difficulty speaking as the euphoria courses through him, coaxing his body into relaxing over her. Her voice is lowly again, “Just give yourself to me…”, she whispers into his neck, trying not to waste his essence. Her hand can be felt around his as she quickly guides it under the sheets and between her legs. He tries to bring his head up as soon as he feels her warmth but the grip she has in hair prevents him from successfully breaking away. He can only whimper, “I am not to touch you.”, but she forces his fingers inside of her. His heart races to what he feels and worries about the pure animalism suddenly rushing through him for the first time ever. She moans when she pushes his digits in further and he begins to sweat while biting his lip. ‘So this is what women feel like?’, he sighs regrettably as he allows her hand to guide his motions, hating himself for absolutely enjoying this. She starts whimpering more and he can feel her body’s temperature rising insanely fast. He thinks somethings wrong so he tries to stop but she holds his arm in place as she tilts her head back, releasing the intoxicating scent. Choso finds himself growling in her ear, not being sure why he’s suddenly ready to insert himself into her. Pulling her by the waist he leans his hips between her legs with an angry expression that she’s unable to see due to their positioning for her feeding. “Elska…”, he whispers with complete seriousness as he’s fighting off the strange urges forming within him. He hears a deep grunt but it takes him a second to realize that its not from her.

               Elska snatches her hands up to her chest and hastily closes Choso’s punctures. She feels Naoya coming to as his presence magnifies, startling them both. His existence has pulled her from the other form and she begins to panic as she comprehends that she’s made Choso do something he would never otherwise. Naoya grunts again and upon remembering how brutal Toji was with his first feeding, she fears for Choso’s safety. “You have to get out of here NOW!”, she places a guilted hand on the side of his face, “I’m so sorry for how I act when we do that. Please…forgive me.”, and sits up again while holding the sheets to her chest as Choso staggers to a stand.

               He feels like the biggest piece of shit as he was just doing things to her right next to Naoya. “What is WRONG with me?!”, he places both hands on his head as the guilt sets in. He doesn’t want to be there when his friend wakes up now but he feels like running would only make things worse. He looks to Elska with frustrated eyes, “Why?”. His eyes begin to tear up as he doesn’t have a real explanation for the way he was just feeling towards her, the ideas the surfaced in his mind.

               Elska sees that Choso is having a mini breakdown over her forceful actions. They were fueled by the other her but she doesn’t believe that she’s blameless. Her heart breaks at how fucked up that situation was but is taken out of her self-loathing as Naoya’s eyes open, glowing red. Not taking her eyes off of her prince she urgently whispers, “Choso…you have to go…please this isn’t only Naoya we’re dealing with here. He needs to experience the ritual, its instinctive to only care for that upon awakening.”. He sighs to her but ends up leaving quickly which gives her some relief. She turns her body slowly as Naoya sits straight up, looking dead at her. He opens his mouth as if he’s trying to say something but tremorous low tones escape instead. “My prince…”, she reaches a shaky hand out to him, “I know what you want and you can have it.”. He snatches her hand while glaring at her, the deepness of the red in his eyes making her certain that this will likely be painful. Naoya yanks her over to his side of the bed and catches her again his chest. She quivers in his arms and finds herself terrified after the experience with Toji. He grunts again so she guardedly looks up to him and happens to catch the formation of his fangs. He roars loudly and grabs his head, pushing her away abruptly and she doesn’t understand what’s going on. “Naoya!”, she holds her hand out again and crawls back to him but he seems to be battling something internally.

               His voice is mixed with even lower tone while in this state, not sounding like himself, “I…can’t!”, he roars down at the bed, “hurt you!”.

               Elska is now beginning to wonder how he’s able to even articulate words as he should be completely starved and down to a basic, barbaric state. ‘Is he…controlling the frenzy?’, she thinks with amazement as she watches her blonde lover struggle with himself right before her eyes. “Naoya…”, he looks at her with strained glowing orbs, “It’s ok…”, and tries to near him again. She feels his hand snatch her throat so she decides to just let him have control as it will be over as soon as this part is through. His lips meet hers though, and the manner in which he’s passionately kissing her throws her off completely. She hears him say into her, “Prin…cess…”, sounding more like himself.

               He’s still fighting off the inhumane urges he feels to plow through her but he feels he’s on the brink of insanity. The words, ‘Master…’, echo through his foggy mind and he isn’t sure what to make of anything. She’s slowly laying herself down next to him while saying, “What you feel is natural, please don’t fight it, you need to do this my prince…”, understanding that she would know best. “Prin…cess.”, is still all he can manage to say when he wants to communicate so much more.

               She tenderly wraps her arms around his neck, slowly tracing his scalp with her fingertips. ‘I can’t believe he’s even aware right now…’, she thinks in complete disbelief as she continues to sit over top of him. While looking down at his unsure expression she shudders pleasantly to the way his fangs protrude over his lips. In this moment she remembers how badly she always wanted this and how perfect of a man his is before her. His hand is still fixed around her throat but he’s lessened his grip more as the seconds pass. After laying him down against the mattress, she takes her left hand to lightly touch his fangs, feeling a rush of lust as she pricks herself against their sharpness. Leaning down to hover over him, she shifts his sweatpants so that she could free his member. “It’s going to be ok my prince, I will take care of you.”, she sweetly whispers while guiding herself down onto him. He instantly roars again and she can’t tell if its out of pleasure or not but she keeps working him in until he’s fully resting inside of her.

               “Ba-by…”, he still feels the desire to ram through her but lays there with deepened breaths as she starts riding him. He’s starting to feel a little more relief each time her thighs sink her weight back down but he’s not lost his hatred for the wretchedness trying to consume him. She has her hands on his chest for support but he grabs her right one and licks her wrist while she seemingly fucks the evil out of him. When looking up into her now bright red glowing eyes, he feels he’s waited a lifetime for the ability he can finally possess. He may not be able to communicate verbally right now but she seems to be waiting with incredible anticipation as he drags his daggers across the skin of her wrist. Right as he’s about to bite her for the first time, he stops and grunts, “No.”.

               Elska stops thrusting over him and slows to almost no movement, ‘Why won’t he do it?’, she becomes worried about him now even more. “Naoya…”, she tries to hand her wrist back to him but he refuses to take it. “Is it because the sex is supposed to come first?”, and searches her mind for a plausible explanation until he abruptly outstretches his arms to pull her body down against him. She cries out from the sudden gesture but doesn’t fight against him as she still unsure as to what is occurring within him. Her fears disappear as she feels him taking control, wanting him to be able to take whatever it is he needs. He’s rocking into her now, causing her to think less and moan more as he rubs through her walls with his erected flesh. Whimpers are all she can offer until he groans into her ear, warning her but she didn’t understand. He pierces her neck rashly causing an immediate wave of pheromones to erupt as the master’s ecstasy flows through her, rendering her helpless and back into his control. His fangs feel better than she ever could have imagined and ponders on how this could even be as them hanging into her neck sends an orgasmic like sensation throughout her entire body. She feels his love for her, his desire to be with her and its completely mind blowing.

               As he drinks from her for the first time all of his chaos subsides. He thought blood might taste weird and is surprised when she’s the best meal he’s ever devoured. The excitement from her flavor makes him hold her firmly while he works his hips to bathe in her warm bliss. Hearing her unravel above him sends a chill down his spine as he feels himself ever so slowly returning to normal. “Baby…”, he quietly calls in unbroken english as he sails through her, experiencing her arousal dripping down his testicles. He doesn’t mean to but he leaves her bleeding until he remembers to close the wounds. Upon bringing his fingertips to them, he sighs to his success but stops moving as his head feels like its going explode. He doesn’t mean to thrash or holler but the pain is so unbearable and the pressure magnetizes greatly.

               This is all out of order and it brings anxiety to the forefront as she can tell he’s about to have the sensory overload. “It’s ok, it will pass, just breathe!”, she holds onto his forearms as his hands grasp at his head. He roars loudly, shaking the room with his unfathomable presence, which oddly turns her on further, ‘He’s so powerful...’. While still trying to console him as he clutches at his hair she tells him, “It’s temporary, I will teach you how to translate.”. Some blood falls from his nose, just like what happened with Toji but she feels this means it’s about to end.

               Relief finally comes out of hiding, his migraine like experience fading. He’s still inside of her but neither of them are performing at the moment while he regains his sense of awareness. Naoya stares into Elska as her expression becomes that of ease and she smiles with teary eyes, captivating his heart. “Baby… you saved me…”. She begins crying happiness above him and he sits there in disbelief feeling her arms wrap around him. She pulls his head and upper body into her breast and holds him while whispering, “Thank God” repetitively. After nuzzling his face, he smiles into her skin knowing that he his fears of never seeing her again will cease to exist. Becoming emotional he tells her, “Baby, I love you so much…”, and proceeds to train his lips all over her.

               She’s unsure as to why Naoya reacted differently when waking but she remembers that even from the beginning, he always was able to attempt fighting even the pheromones. ‘Is it because of our clan history?’, she stews over this for a few seconds while Naoya continues to return to normal. She looks down at him and smiles widely but his returning expression is quite different.

               Naoya sees her beautiful smile and begins to form a devious one of his own as everything he’s ever wanted has come to be. “I have been waiting for this moment for a long time princess…”, he tells her in a seductive tone. He takes his right arm and hoists in around her while he lifts himself to his knees with her on top. Using his hips and strength he starts to maneuver her over him while she gasps over him. He’s using his eyes to take in every single second, every movement they collaborate, every trace of pleasure shown on her face. She’s starting to use her thighs to help coordinate their movements so he intensifies the impacts. Her breast are bouncing against his face to which he brings his head closer to her so he can lick up in between them. “Look at me baby.”, he commands. When she does a wide grin slashes his face while he slowly opens his mouth to bring his lips above her left breast. She bites her lip with a furrowed brow as if she knows he’s about to pierce her again. She moans his name which causes him to hum and without breaking their gaze, he bites into her chest while resuming his motions through her.

               “Oh shit…”, she closes her eyes immediately as she feels the budding sensation of the pheromones billowing through her again. She doesn’t even have time to tell him as they plaster through the room yet again. She’s become someone pliable in his arms as the feeling of his fangs course through her, bringing every cell of hers back to life. Before she knows it, she pulling his hair and using that as stability to ride him even harder. His fangs start tugging her skin, ripping the puncture open more than they needed to be but she doesn’t even care. “My prince…you feel so fucking good…”, she whines as he bottoms out into her and stops moving. She looks down at him again and his expression has changed yet again, its darker than before but extremely inviting. He raises his head up while bending her neck down so their lips can meet.

               They’re both heaving into each other as he cannot seem to have enough of her taste. He’s afraid to get that weird pain again so he didn’t drink as much this time but something bothered him. He grabs her hair and tilts her head back so he can brings his lips over the entirety of her neck while she whimpers and clenches around his still girth sunken inside of her. “There’s one problem with this baby…”, she tries to look down at him but he will only allow her head to move so much, “I thought I made myself clear before…”. He kisses her neck some more and nips the areas to tease her. He hears her ask, “What? What’s wrong!?”, but he chuckles as he releases her hair and dominatingly states, “I am the master here.”. He sees her wide eyes and decides he’s going to prove it. Without warning, he shifts her quickly over to her back and throws himself on top of her while she squirms with excitement. He lowers his body closer to hers while situating himself between her legs, “Say it baby, I need to know that you understand. I want to hear it.”.

               He smacks her right thigh and rear which causes her to yelp but he keeps his hand in place to help soothe the sting. The fact that he acknowledges the master and turned bond, then spat on it makes her feel like he is certainly allowed to challenge her as she doesn’t want to be their master anyway. He slaps her thigh again while she’s lost in thought but harder which prompts her to say, “I’m sorry Master Naoya, please…do what you want with me.”, and smiles to the hunger running rampant in his eyes. He whispers, “Good princess…”, and pins her arms over her head against the bed with one arm as he begins to line himself back up to her. She shivers to his tone but welcomes his sexual thirst willingly, loving how passionate he is as a whole. He sends her tongue into her mouth when he enters her again and the stretch, she feels from him while he dominates her leave her legs limp and open. “Please Master Naoya, take me.”. Instantly he hums into her as he thrusts his hips to the point to where he’s pushing her across the bed. While she’s at his mercy, watching the joy spread across his lips he chuckles and says through gasps, “My naughty…princess…I will have you.”, and proceeds to stroke through her walls. He tells her she’s stunning and hisses to her contracting around him, making her even tighter than before. She whimpers, “Master Naoya” again which causes his endurance to flatten. “Those words of yours undo me…”, he says through his teeth as he’s nearing his end.

               Her own orgasm is nearing. His touch has always been electrifying but the way he tickles her skin with his fangs solely brings her to her demise. She instinctually tries to lift her arms as the warm euphoria circulates from her sensitive areas outward. It seems like he was able to tell due to his sweaty smile he shows her once bringing his head up. His eyes begin to glow again, although brighter in shade than before and she understands he’s going to grant her the bliss once again. She closes her eyes as he punctures into her, all while rocking his hips to stimulate her in both ways as she unravels underneath him. “They feel so good…so good…”, she whimpers out in higher than normal pitches. He groans into her neck as his pace slows and she understands that he’s finishing as well but then her pheromones release again.

               “Baby…”, Naoya’s voice has become raspy from all of the heavy breathing, “I don’t ever want to lose you again.”. As he finishes his final movements, being drained by her wet suction, he confesses. He kisses down her neck to her breasts as she giggles and replies, “Technically I almost lost you.”, but then visible sadness creeps across her face. He remains inside of her while releasing her wrists, becoming bothered by her sudden depression in spirit. Leaning down to meet their lips he sighs, being grateful that they still are able to have moments like this, just able to be together.

               “I told you to not protect me with your life!”, tears are now streaming down her face as her voice breaks, “WHAT IF I COULDN’T SAVE YOU?!”. Retracting from his view she abruptly rolls over to her side, wanting to hide what she feels is an ugly cry. He doesn’t immediately react so she feels like she screwed up, letting her emotions get the best of her, especially when he’s ok now. She hears him say, “Baby?”, so she reluctantly turns enough to meet eyes.

               Rolling her back over by her shoulder, his heart breaks at the apparent distress she experienced to his actions the day of the attack. “I wasn’t going to let that spear hit you. You can be mad at me all you want but put yourself in my shoes.”. He grabs her chin gently to force their faces to be parallel and is mystified by the defiance in her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what is happening, I will never allow harm to come to you if I can help it. You’re going to have to deal with that princess…”. His tone was harsher than he meant and regretted it immediately as he eyes tear up again. He didn’t expect her to really be angry at him so he decides to give her some space while he thinks on the matter. He watches her scoot to a sitting position on the other side of the bend and hold her knees with her head buried into them so he gets up from the bed and stands.

               “Are you leaving?”, she shamelessly asks with obvious hurt in her voice. He doesn’t say anything to her while studying her moodiness. He quietly says, “No, I’m not going anywhere.”, which brings her ease. ‘Why am I being such a bitch right now?’, she questions herself as she even isn’t sure why she became so upset so suddenly. She doesn’t know what to say really and she’s doing her best to calm down, knowing she’s in the wrong for acting like this. ‘I really thought I was going to lose him…’, and recalls the few moments of dread when he collapsed before her that seemed like years. He starts walking towards the foot of the bed so she stands up too, both of them now bare before each other. “Naoya I…”, she feels her frown, “I just don’t think I could live without you. It scared me, everything that happened then and since.”, his features soften to her words which makes her feel a little better, not wanting him to think she’s crazy.

               “Baby look…”, he approaches her uncharacteristically frail self with slow long strides and grabs her hands. “…A man is supposed to protect his wife. This man, me…I want to protect mine. You are everything to me.”. Naoya notices her bewildered face at the mention of spouses and chuckles deeply, “I love you.”.

               Through quivering lips she attempts a smile, knowing that he means every word he said. She’s still on the fence about marriage but knows if that’s what fate has in store for them, she truly wouldn’t be crushed by it. She leans into his chest and embraces him, loving the way his natural scent drowns out the rest of the world while listening to his beating heart. He runs his hand through her hair and motions for her to look up at him so she does. He sweetly asks if she’s alright and she tells him that she is now but his next words break her.

               “Where’s Toji? Is he alright after…you know…”, Naoya turns his head at the memories of his cousin killing all of those people. He catches Elska as she dropped to the floor now full-on crying, causing him to end up on his knees as well to the indication that somethings really wrong there. She wails, “They…took him!”, his whole demeanor changes as he tries to console himself and her. His anger wells up from the deepest parts of his heart and the room begins to shake which startles him. Upon understanding that it was him doing it, he controls himself and wonders, ‘What the fuck was that?’.

               “Choso found Toji though…so we can go rescue him.”, Elska wishes she would’ve said that first but she’s still so distraught with the clear memories of anguish that filled her upon him being taken. She hears Naoya sigh in relief and then he pulls her away from his chest to say, “We will get him back. They will not have the chance to harm him baby.”, but feels his tension still to the knowledge that he’s been gone. She tells him, “I hope he’s not hurting; I don’t know if he’s able to feed. They have him chained up!”. Chills run down her back as she remembers what Choso said, “Apparently Getou was here while we were sleeping…”, and flinches to Naoya’s presence as it grows again. “…but Choso also said the Getou gave him the means for locating Toji.”.

               That simply does not compute with Naoya. “Why the fuck would he do that?”, he asks in annoyance although its not directed towards her. “He could’ve taken you too!”, the thought sends a flaming rage through him. ‘That is not the Getou I know, what the fuck is he planning now?’, he thinks internally. Looking back at her with seriousness, “Baby, I don’t think I need to explain how untrustworthy Getou is… what if it’s a trap?”. Her guilted expression puzzles him further as he feels he’s missing something significant so he asks, “Did something happen after I was speared?”. He’s anxious about what she’s about to say as he can sense her uneasiness clear as day.

               “My prince…please listen to me.”, She swallows and takes a deep breath as she stares at his chest, being uncomfortable when he raises her chin to see her eyes. “After you were hurt, a lot actually happened.”, he winces to the unknown. “Their leader and I killed the girl that hurt you…”, he ducks his head back to that information and opens his mouth as if he were going to speak but stops himself so she can continue. “I also…drank from Suguru…”.

               “YOU WHAT?!”, Naoya is instantly angered by this as he doesn’t understand what she could’ve been thinking. “I spent MONTHS keeping your bite a secret from him. DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE WILL DO TO YOU NOW?!”, his deep voice flies off of the walls, filling the room with his discontent. He stands up in frustration and walks back to the bed and sits on the edge. “What the FUCK Elska?!”, he whines in aggravation as he fears what Getou will do with this knowledge, how much harder he’ll try to take her now that he likely wants her. He shoots his heated glowing eyes to her, “What the fuck were you trying to achieve by doing this?”. He’s so pissed he can’t even keep his gaze on her.

               She sits there still on her knees, feeling defeated. There was more that she needs to say to clear this up but feels she deserves to be on the end of his fury. She clenches her fists that are pressed into her thighs and mutters out, “I needed to understand him. His blood also helped keep me in that form.”. She raises her head as she hears him walking up to her again but she’s surprised when he snatches her up to her feet while slightly shaking her wrists and yelling, “What more is there to understand?! HE TRIED TO RAPE YOU AND HE RIPPED YOUR FUCKING WING OUT!”. Her confidence deteriorates as she finds herself genuinely fearing him now. ‘Why did I say anything?! I am so fucking stupid!’, she berates herself in her mind while she cries.

               Naoya senses that she’s shutting down and releases her wrists. The last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of him so he tries to retract his rage for her sake, although he’s still fuming. “I just don’t understand you, why you would willingly do that.”, he reaches for her hand but she slaps it away, leaving him feeling even more upset, knowing he’s not the bad guy. “I don’t think so…”, he grunts as he reaches for her hand again, successfully grabbing it. She struggles against him and says, “STOP!”, but he’s not about to let her wallow in this sadness just as he doesn’t want to burn from his hatred over the situation. “BABY!”, he tries to get her attention but she uses her free hand to try and push him away. “God damnit Elska!”, he now grabs her shoulders and forces her backwards against the wall. When she looks up to him, his heart drops by the expression of anger that now paints her face but now that she’s at least not fighting him, he tells her, “I don’t know what is going on with you right now but you’re not getting away from me so easily! I am fucking furious about this but you don’t get to run away from this discussion.”.

               She thinks to attempt a flee once more but when she tries Naoya only pushes her back into the wall. She’s more than sorry about her actions and feels disgusting with how she expected Naoya to not freak out this badly. He asks her, “What did Getou do after you drank from him?”, and she can tell he’s trying to hide the malice in his voice but is unsuccessful. Elska tries to look away but he clicks his tongue and says, “Look at me Elska…”, and cowers as she does. After a few seconds she musters, “He…he didn’t do anything…and I could tell by his taste that is he isn’t the real villain.”. She closes her eyes expecting her truth to further anger him and when it does, she takes a deep breath. “I’m not saying he hasn’t done terrible things Naoya, I just don’t think he’s at the root of all of this evil!”.

               “So you’re ok with the fucked up situations he’s put you in…”, Naoya flings his hands off of her shoulders and takes a step back. “Don’t fucking tell me you like the guy now.”, his tone was condescending and wishes he would’ve said it differently but it was too late as she now pushes him in the chest, causing him to stumble back. The look on her face is of hurt, like his words alone were stronger than Getou’s gravity and weighed on her immensely. ‘Why am I saying all of these hateful things?!’, he asks himself. After inhaling slowly, trying to collect himself he’s caught by surprise when she pushes him again and screams, “WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A DICK!?”, which causes his left eye to twitch. He’s figuring by this point that she may be equally troubled by what happened and feels bad for flying off the handle so when she tries to place hands on him again he catches them and pushes her back against the wall. She flails in tears for a few but then begins to settle, him wanting this spat to be over with. “I love you Elska.”, he whispers and watches her eyes widen in confusion. “That day was horrific for us all and I wish I would’ve thought about that more before getting so mad…”. She says nothing but still has a fire in her eyes which strikes him with an inappropriate emotion. “You can hit me all you want but I’m staying right here.”. He searches her eyes, going back and forth between them as if he’s looking for something. When he sees the slightest trace of her love for him appear, he bends down and passionately kisses her, forcing his tongue into her mouth being shocked when she lets him in.

               Feelings have been flying left and right and she never would’ve expected their first argument to end like this. When he becomes more antagonistic, she feels herself responding to it with just as much force. She grabs a chunk of his hair and pulls on it as he groans from their kiss being broken. “I love you too Naoya, so much…too much.”, and bites him right under his collar bone but doesn’t feed. He moans loudly, sending his hands to roam her naked body, grabbing and squeezing any part of her that he could. She lifts her head and closes his wounds but becomes once again helpless as his alluring glare shadows her.

               “Mmmmmmm…”, he hums right before lifting her up against the wall and pushing his hardening girth into her. “You can’t love me too much, I want it all.”, and they both gasps to him reentering her and the way they feel to each other as he motions his hips. He’s able to tell before her body temperature rises that she’s going to release another wave and he happily increases his pace to encourage the situation. Two erupt out of her back-to-back and it nearly causes his knees to buckle but he stands strong and continues to administer deep thrusts as she leans her head onto his shoulder. She cries out as he proceeds to crash through her, the sweat building upon both of them soothing the once depressing atmosphere. “I’ll want you forever.”, he whispers while giving an extra enthused thrust.

               “Please…never leave meeee…”, she whines as he feels far too good for her to converse. He’s beginning to repeatedly hit that same spot within her, it almost seeming relentless with how she doesn’t even have the ability to breath and it causes her to throw her head back. “Naoyaaaa…”, she moans pleasantly being beyond words with how it almost seems the argument never happened aside from the additional haste their both exuding. She feels his fangs pierce her neck again and wildly cries out this time, as the dualling sensations trap her in a haze. He’s pumping through her still as her sounds silence from the explosion within. As she’s orgasming, he draws more from her but never halts in his movements through her, breaking her down into a weightlessness that cannot be properly described. She closes her eyes to get the maximum experience he’s doing so well at giving her and allows him to control everything, wanting him to receive the same amount of pleasure. Her eyes dart back open after she hears a different voice right next to her ear. She turns her head fully and holds her breath, not having realized he was even there.

               Satoru grabs Elska’s breast with a wicked smile and wantonly asks, “So Loverboy…just how many times are you going to bite her?”

 ((Chapter 43 will be out soon! Thank you for reading this long ass story. This chapter was a little rushed but I hope y’all still enjoy it!))

Next Chapter (43) >>

Chapter List

tagging : @angelofthorr

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 05

<= Chapter 4

Summary : Lukas gets a once in a lifetime chance. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/77002538

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I'M SO SORRY FOR THE HUGE HIATUS PEOPLE, AAAAAH ANYWAY, NEW CHAPTER, I HOPE YOU'LL LIKE IT (and yeah, I'm getting back to work on this fanfic full time now, expect updates from time to time).

You'll notice my writing style has improved since then, so don't be too surprised.

Happy reading ! Thank you for waiting all this time, it really means a lot!

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Chapter 5 - Wait. What?

It would be an understatement to say that the young man was confused to no end. He wasn’t just unsettled by the whole thing– he was absolutely bewildered. Him, taking the role of an actor? And, more than that, taking MJ’s role out of everyone’s ? Man, this couldn’t be real, this just couldn’t be. Yet… Here he was, in front of everyone, holding a script with shaking hands, and his heart pounding like crazy in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck, there was no way he was going to do that, no fucking way–

-“I, uh… I don’t think it’s a very good idea…” he mumbled, his eyes looking away while a deep blush crept its way onto his cheeks. He wasn’t an actor, he had no experience in this, oh, why, why did he laugh so loud?

His weak statement and his trembling stance made the Conductor scoff, and a mocking smile appeared on his lips for the first time since the latter had entered the room. The man lied back against his chair and gave his colleague a playful yet strong nudge:

-“Would you look at that,” cackled the old man with his Scottish accent: “Someone’s having stage fright!”

The other man rubbed at the place the Conductor had touched him, not really liking sudden touches coming from the other apparently:

-“Yes, darling, I’ve noticed,” he replied with an unimpressed expression. Grooves’s eyes then fell on the young stagehand again and he tried to reassure him with a warm smile. Unsurprisingly, this didn’t help in the slightest.

-“Is this your first acting experience?” the man asked the student, putting his chin into the palm of his hand.

-“… Yeah,” Lukas answered trustfully. As much as he hated MJ’s guts, it was still undeniable that the latter knew how to play a role perfectly. Whether it was from the gestures, the stance, the tone of his voice, or his confidence in front of a camera… It was all so different with Lukas. He gulped down and tried to voice his concerns once more: “I really think that you shouldn’t-”

However, he was soon cut short by the Conductor’s voice. The movie maker had picked up his cone and had shouted a loud “action!” inside, showing his impatience and making Lukas pale instantly at the same time. Oh shit, shit, wait, no– He didn’t want to do this, this was way out of his comfort zone…! And he could hear people giggling at him in the distance, among the stagehands watching him fiddling with the script! Oh this was so humiliating, so humiliating, he couldn’t do this…!

-“Just read the bad guy’s line,” Grooves’s suave voice interrupted his thoughts, most likely in an attempt to calm him down, though it wasn’t helping: “We know you haven’t learnt them like the young lady here, so don’t worry about stammering,” Next to him, the little girl was staring at him with a mix of compassion and second-hand embarrassment. This experience kinda reminded him of the school projects he had had to do in the past, and still did as of today… But like, a hardcore version of them, for a topic he had no prior knowledge in. Oh, sure, if this had been a law-related project, he wouldn’t be so terrified right now. But it wasn’t. In any case, his eyes fell on the papers he was holding and he tried taking a deep breath, gulping down his saliva again with a lot of troubles.

He wasn’t going to get out of this until he actually tried it, was he? God, what did he get himself into…

-“Y-you… You reached my h-home, little one,” he read, his voice shaking. Right before he could start the next line, a loud “cut!” interrupted him: the Conductor. Lukas’s face paled up once again. Oh fuck, he had just said a single sentence and it was already that bad, he knew he wasn’t an actor, he knew he was terrible at playing a role, he had never done that before!

With trembling lips, he glanced to the directors with fear. Would they fire him? No, how could they? This wasn’t even the main purpose of his job! His job was to lift things and repair broken stuff! Not this!

A moment of silent passed in which the student couldn’t move, completely paralyzed. What were they going to tell him? Would they make fun of him? Was everyone going to? While the stagehands looked amused, it wasn’t really the case for the directors, which did nothing to help Lukas to feel better at all. And when he thought they were about to tell him to drop the script and go back to what he could do, he was taken aback when he heard a “EVERYONE, OUT” from the Conductor. The student couldn’t help but be startled by the other’s volume. Wait, what-

He looked around, confused. As he saw the stagehands leaving the room, he started to walk away- but Grooves stopped him in his momentum:

-“Not you, darling, you stay here,” instructed the eccentric man, a smirk visible on his lips. Oh fuck, what, what was going on…?

Soon enough, everyone left the room… Except for the directors, the kid, her dad, and him. Oh shit, it was one thing to read a script in public, but now, it felt even more… Official!

-“B-but, I’m not…” he tried to interject, but wasn’t allowed to continue:

-“If being watched is making you scared, then there you go,” shrugged the Conductor, as if he hadn’t yelled a minute ago: “Problem solved,” he then pointed to the papers in Lukas’ hands and gave him an look that clearly meant ‘hurry up’: “Now, eyes on the script and read.”

The young man still tried to protest, but the old producer shouted yet another “action!”, making him jump out of surprise and nervousness. He really… Didn’t have any choice, apparently. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath. After all, he couldn’t get fired for this, right? And there were considerably less people watching him… Surely this wouldn’t be worse than before! And, hell, even if he did fail, then who cared? No one (or almost no one) was watching him now, and there weren’t going to be consequences for it anyway.

So why the hell not, after all? He still found it stupid how his laughter had caught the men’s attention, but yeah: he didn’t have anything to lose. So, after another deep breath… The stagehand straightened up and tried to appear more confident.

Ha. What a joke.

-“You reached my home, little one,” he repeated his first line, trying to sound as creepy as that fucking puppet MJ had been holding earlier: “F-fear not, my dear, for I will not hurt you. I don’t- I do not harm my friends,” he stammered, wondering how he had managed to go that far. Well, at least, he wasn’t being interrupted this time… So this was good, he supposed?

-“Who are you?” the little girl replied, going back in character so fast that Lukas wouldn’t even believe she was acting. Damn, she was good. Way better than him, without a doubt. She had tilted her head to the side, a fake confused expression painted on her face as she approached him curiously. Yeah, she looked way more experienced than he was. But the directors still remained silent, watching them with great interest.

Yeah, no, this was definitely not intimidating Lukas. Ha.

-“I am the M-Moonjumper,” he replied, forcing an awkward smile on his lips, still attempting to appear scary. Well, he probably looked more ridiculous than anything, really, but he was trying: “I am the guardian of the Hori- Horizon, but also its prisoner for eternity. I… I have seen the birth of the universe and its end I will witness.”

-“The Horizon?” repeated the little girl, faking looking around: “Is that where we are?” she then frowned, as if she had just realized something terrible: “Wait… Does that mean I’m trapped here too?”

Oh cool, the character he was playing at was a kidnapper, fucking great. He tried not to let this thought appear on his features and continued his part of the text. Okay, so his character was a bad guy, right? Maybe… Maybe he had to sound more like one rather than just reading the lines out loud like he had done so far. He threw an anxious glance to the directors, wondering if this was a good idea- but, hell, why the fuck not? If he was forced to do this thing, then he might as well give his all! Even if just to piss MJ off, even if the latter couldn’t see him– although, this wasn’t such a bad thing, considering their skill gap. He didn’t want to be laughed at.

But this wasn’t the time for this kind of thoughts. Now was time for either impressing people… Or just utterly ridiculing himself.

Lukas approached the child with a threatening pose, looming over her and using his free hand as a claw floating above her. He did his best to keep a somewhat “sadistic” expression and continued his line, this time with more motivation and more confidence.

-“Oh, do not worry, little one… I know what it’s like to be all alone, left to rot in this place for centuries, with no one to talk to. Rest assured, you won’t suffer the same fate as I did,” he paused, leaning forward, his smile widening dangerously, and a dark chuckle leaving his mouth: “I will be there with you forever, my child. You will never, ever, be alone again…”

The girl gave him an incredulous look, and he couldn’t tell if it was faked or genuine. However, this was soon replaced by the expected fearful expression. Yeah, he would be scared if he were in that kid’s shoes…

-“You can’t trap me here!” she retorted, stepping back. The child seemed to grab an invisible object and using it to keep him at a safe distance- a weapon probably. Kinda looked like a sword, from the way she was holding it. The student followed the script and approached her again. Had he not been so insecure about his laughter, he would have probably improvised one, but, yeah, no. This was not happening.

In any case, Lukas’ “sadistic” expression disappeared as the little girl charged at him, and it was his turn to step back. Sure, it was in the script, but it was one thing to read it. It was another to actually experience it, even if it was all fake.

Breaking character seemed to be enough for the directors to put an end to the audition. The new “cut!” that echoed in the room reminded him of the current situation and an uncontrollable blush rose to his cheeks- oh fuck, he had been really carried away, what the hell… He and the little girl turned to the producers, both looking rather nervous, though for completely different reasons. Well, while he hoped this child would get the role, he wasn’t so uncertain about his own fate in that regard. Even if MJ’s personality was absolutely terrible, it was clear that the other was more experienced and more famous than he was. It would be a real mistake to keep him, a stagehand, over a skilled actor– and, anyway, why was he even thinking about that possibility? There was no way this was going to happen!

He waited with the little girl, and the two directors started to whisper with one another, giving them sideways glances that made him even more insecure. Wait, why would there be anything to discuss? He would go back to being a stagehand and the kid was going to get the role! And, if she wasn’t, then… Then he wouldn’t understand. She had everything a young actor could offer: talent, spontaneity, expressiveness…

Eventually, after what seemed to be an eternity, the two directors turned back to them. Grooves was smiling warmly to the kid and proudly announced, all while clasping his hands:

-“Good job, darling,” he praised her, a sincere impressed look in his eyes: “You got the role.”

As soon as she heard these words, the child’s lips turned into a bright smile. Pure joy could be seen on her face as she started to jump around and giggle, celebrating the announcement with great excitement. She dashed to her father and hugged him tightly, squealing with delight against him. At the sight, Lukas couldn’t help but smile, touched by the little girl’s happiness. Oh, he was glad for her, and even more so to know he had been able to help her get the job. Even if he was going to get laughed at for his poor performance, it still had some use in the end.

-“Hey, you,” his attention was caught back by the Conductor and his eyes went back to them. Oh. Right.

-“Uh, do I… Do you want me to go tell the others they can come back?” he suggested, his previous confidence flying through the window, miles and miles away. He couldn’t help but look away, not managing to keep eye contact. God, this was so stressful… His mess of a mind was silenced as he saw Grooves nudging his counterpart, a smug smile on his lips.

-“I’ll let you do the honors,” he chuckled with his deep voice, and Lukas tilted his head to the side, getting more and more confused by the whole situation. Wait, what…? No, no, no, wait…

The Conductor moved away from the other, as if disgusted by the sudden and unwanted contact- they really were alike on a lot of points, it was kind of funny to watch, though Lukas’ mind was not focused on this at the moment.

-“Fine, DJ Peckneck,” groaned the other, rubbing the place where Grooves had touched him like he was trying to get some dirt off him. His head turned back to the student and he stood up, visibly wanting to get this over with:

-“You get the role,” he merely told him, barely paying attention to him anymore: “Learn your text by tomorrow,” and just like that, the man walked with a fast pace to the door, opening it and calling everyone back inside with his loud and authoritative voice.

In the meantime, Lukas was just… Frozen, unable to process what he had just been told.

Wait.

What?

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Ahahaha, Lukas gets so fucking confused in this fanfic, this is so funny to write.

=> Chapter 06

[tuiccim]

Conquest

Loki One Shot

Pairing : Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, implied smut, fluff (so ridiculously fluffy and cheesy)

So, this is my first time publishing a fanfic. This was supposed to be very different but kinda just developed this way. Hope you enjoy

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You wake with a start. Turning to the clock on the nightstand you see it’s 2:45am. Four hours of sleep. After getting back from the mission yesterday you had eaten a bowl of cereal, showered, and went to bed. Burying your head back in the pillows you try to will sleep to return but it's impossible. You knew that as soon as you woke. With a heavy sigh, you throw your covers off and change into workout gear. 

Heading to the training room, you knew you’d be the only one awake. Might as well use the time for something productive. You grab some knives and begin throwing at a target. 

“You have quite the aim.” Comes from behind you. 

You turn to see Loki standing only a few feet from you. “How do you always manage to sneak up on me?”

“I wait until you’re distracted.” Loki smiles. “And I am the god of mischief, darling.”

Ugh, the pet names. Loki, always with the darlings and loves when speaking to you. He had been at the tower with the rest of the Avengers for nearly six months now. Working to redeem himself he had blithely put it. He was always curt with everyone but whenever you two were alone he seemed to let his guard down a bit. You weren't sure why. He was attractive and when the two of you talked he was charming and intelligent. But something inside always made you cautious of him. After all, as he reminded everyone often, you were all merely midgardians. 

"Couldn't sleep?" You ask. 

The god gives a non committal shrug before walking to the weapon locker. 

"Care to spar?" You decide to challenge him.

He turns to you with a raised eyebrow, "I'm afraid you'd be woefully outmatched."

Rolling your eyes you grab two sparring daggers. "You like to play with knives, right?"

"Hmmmm...yes, I do enjoy giving a good stabbing now and then." He smirks as he palms two daggers. 

You twirl the daggers. Loki usually found a tongue-in-cheek way to say things and so you had expected a sly comment. "Hope you understand I won't be the one getting stabbed." You meet his eyes and smirk back at him. 

"Now, now, (Y/N), you should be careful when challenging a god."

Without warning you lunge at Loki who quickly sidesteps you. In another second the air is singing with clangs as your daggers meet. Fairly well matched you meet each other measure for measure for several minutes. Loki smiles and takes stance as you advance on him but when you swing your dagger at him it goes through him. You lose your balance at the lack of resistance and the next thing you know arms have wrapped around you from behind with a dagger pressed to your throat and another pressed against your stomach. 

“Looks like you will be the one getting stabbed. Drop them, darling.’ Loki lips are close to your ear. 

“That's cheating, Loki!” You say. 

“Oh no, love, that’s using all of your resources.” He whispers, sending a shiver down your spine. “Surrender. You know you want to.”

The air had changed. The way Loki was pressed against your body alerted you to his maleness. He was no longer speaking of the sparring. 

“What are you doing, Loki?” You ask breathlessly. 

“What we’ve both wanted all along.” He pulls the dagger away from your throat and leans down to press his lips to the side of your neck. “Am I wrong? I don’t think I am. I hear your heartbeat increase when I come near you. Even now I can feel the heat radiating off of you.”

Dropping the daggers in your hands, Loki loosens his grip allowing you to turn in his arms. You run your hands up his chest before sliding them around his neck and into his hair, his eyes are smouldering into you as you stare up at him. Bringing your lips within millimeters of his, you grip a handful of his hair and say, "Attraction for you? No, you’re not wrong. But I’m more than just a conquest for fun.” With that you pull away leaving a stunned god of mischief standing in the middle of the training room. 

In the elevator you leaned your head back against the wall. Did that arrogant ass think you'd just lay down on the mat for him? Ugh. And it pissed you off that your body betrayed you. Feeling him against you, heat had pooled between your legs. It wasn't that you were a prude, but when it comes to teammates it just wasn't a good idea to fuck around. If it was, you would have made the rounds a few times already. It's not like there was an unattractive person in the bunch. 

Back in your room, you look around trying to figure out what to do with yourself now. Frustration strained through you. You pull out your laptop to work on the mission report when a soft knock sounds at your door. You stare at it for a moment. Your thoughts warring between wanting it to be Loki and wanting it to be anyone else. You were a little surprised when you opened the door to actually find Loki there. 

"May we speak?" He says in a low voice. You stared directly in his eyes and thought you saw just the barest amount of vulnerability. That's what made you step back from the door and wave him in. 

You close the door and look at the beautiful man...god before you. "I've never been in your room." He says as he ambles around. "Interesting decor you have."

"Uninteresting stalling tactic you have." Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here, Loki?"

He looks at you and something in his demeanor softens. "You're not a conquest." He says quietly. 

You hold his gaze, waiting him out until he finally turns away, ostensibly to look at your bookshelf. "You...you've always been kind to me. Talked to me as if I'm any other teammate. Had my back." he turns back to make eye contact, "Trusted me to have yours. You've never seemed to hold my past wickedness against me. And I've appreciated it. When I'm with you I feel...I don't know...worthy. Honorable. Content."

"I…"

"Let me finish, please. You are a light for me and I'm sorry if I made you feel less than that. You are completely right. You are not a conquest. And I went about it all wrong." He had slowly moved towards you and you were mesmerized by the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice. You stood rooted to the spot as he approached and when he was mere inches from you he lifted his hands to cup your cheeks. "You are so much more than I can describe. I love you, (Y/N)."

Your eyes widened at his confession and your heart leaps, but the voice nags at the back of your mind. "I'm only a human, Loki. Fleeting, I believe, is how you put it."

"I would rather have a fleeting moment with you than a thousand lifetimes with any other. Tell me to go and I'll go, but if I have any chance of winning you…"

You felt the tether holding you back break and your words came out in a rush, "It was the Shelley." 

"Shelley?"

"A few weeks ago, we were reading in the common room and I heard you reciting it under your breath. Love's Philosophy by Percy Shelley. And I found myself distracted entirely from my book. I was looking at the god of mischief and lies but his heart was laid open in that moment. I thought to myself if I could only see that look directed at me, I would fall so hard. And I see it now. I love you, Loki. You're my light, too."

"Say it again...please." Loki pressed his forehead to yours. His voice strained with emotion.

"I love you. I love you, Loki."

"That poem." He says, "What was the last bit? Oh, yes...

'And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea –

what are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?'"

Your lips met and in that moment your souls touched. 

The fountains mingle with the river

Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley

And the rivers with the Ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

in one another’s being mingle –

Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdain’d its brother:

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea –

what are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?