#its me with a mic telling you i will never be smart enough to talk about f1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notnctu · 4 years ago

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haechan: the cocky | vol 2

━ welcome home to the housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: explicit language, dirty talking, nicknames, dom!hyuck, penetration, oral (giving & receiving), slight degradation?, mentions of exhibitionist kink? ☆ WC: 3.6k ☆ SYNOPSIS: after receiving haechan’s text messages, you hurry up to his room and the sexual tension is thicker than you can ever imagine.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: read vol 1 here if u havent already :) theres no plot yall its just smut,, this one a filthy one ha ha skjdhfgieas

When you enter Haechan’s room, his back faces you as he sits comfortably in his expensive gaming chair, clicking furiously at his mouse and practically abusing the poor device. “Why are you so worked up?” Your voice causes him to perk up, removing an ear from his headset.

“Mark fucking sucks at this game.” Haechan rolls his eyes as he speaks directly into his mic and Mark’s tiny muffled voice shouts back at him.

Leaning into Haechan’s face, his eyes leave his monitor momentarily to intently watch your actions. Your fingers grab hold of the built in mic and speaking lowly, you greet the other boy through the receiver. “Hi Mark.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow at your seductive tone and the happy smirk on your face when you hear Mark stammer back a faint, “h-hello, y/n.”

“Mark, I gotta go.” Before even letting Mark protest and throw a fit, he’s hanging up the call and forfeiting his winning streak to finally finish what you two had started. You’re laying on Haechan’s bed with eyes that eat him right up, a look of lust and desire.

His gaze bounces between the open door and the way your thin shirt does absolutely nothing to hide how erect your nipples have become. His signature face of disbelief: tongue in cheek and rolling his eyes, paired with a small scoff.

“What? Are you cold or something?” He snickers, getting up to close the door.

“No... I’m just..” Propping up on your elbows, you glance briefly down at your shirt and then, away at the ground shamelessly.

“Aroused? Turned on?” Haechan taunts as he leans down to hover above you, his fingers toying with the ends of the thin fabric. As much as you’re trying to avoid eye contact, he doesn’t allow for you to shy away for long.

“Maybe.” You gulp the pooling spit in the back of your throat, the tension rising in the room. “I came upstairs like you told me too.” Pouting, he finally has you fixated on him with a thumb on your chin.

Making eye contact with him is not only incredibly intimate, but there is something mesmerizing and comforting in the way Haechan looks at you. “Right, my good girl did what she was told. How much longer can she keep that up?” His whisper is hot against your skin, but he doesn’t lean in any more.

“Don’t test me, Hyuck.” You snap back gently, crossing your arms across your chest and almost immediately, Haechan pushes you lightly onto the bed. You yelp at the boldness, knowing that your bratty side might have edged him on.

“Hyuck....? Baby, we haven’t even started yet.” He smirks, and you wish for nothing more than to wipe it off his face. He has the absolute confidence to play with you all night if he wanted to. Cocky motherfucker.

“Do something, please.” The whine in your voice catches his attention, only fueling his ego more than it has already inflated.

“What does my pretty baby want me to do?” Haechan has the full audacity to sit back in his chair, legs spread wide and arms resting behind his head. He’s left you on the bed practically untouched, yet the moment you sit up, a small pool of wetness rushes in your panties.

He’s done nothing, but your body reacts to him too strongly for you to admit. “I want you to give me a kiss.” You mumble.

However, Haechan leaves no room for a pause. “Speak up.” His voice is low and dark as he watches you squirm in your shorts, your legs rubbing together for some friction. He just loves how needy he can get you to be.

“Give me a kiss.” A little louder this time, all the while being mindful at how thin the walls are. Haechan patiently waits for you to finish your beg, “please.”

He pats his lap for you to come sit, then opens his arms to invite you into his embrace. Your legs fall on either side of his thighs and his hands rests on your waist. Haechan peers up at the pout that hasn’t left your face and gently smiles. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

There’s a sense of rivalry when he uses that nickname, holding less of a soft implication than when he calls you baby. “You’re taking forever.” You groan, rocking against him with a frustrated whine.

However, he holds you steady by your hips and chuckles mockingly, “it wouldn’t be fun if I just gave it to you. I’m giving you more of an experience to remember the next time you want to rub one out.”

“Trust me, I’ll be fast forwarding these parts in my brain.” Rolling your eyes, your hands find themselves lightly on his chest. He feels rather solid through his black shirt, “you’ve been bulking up?”

“Yeah. Can you tell? Johnny has been waking my ass up early in the morning to go to the gym with him because Jaehyun has class.” Haechan presses you up against his torso and you’re impressed at how sturdy he feels.

“So that’s why we have two jugs of protein powder taking up counter space. Doyoung and I were concerned at how much the other two were consuming, but I guess the portion includes you now.” Your hands wrap around his neck to pull him unbelievably closer, the tips of your noses touching now.

Haechan stares at you with hooded eyes and breath mixing with your own. “What does it taste like?” Your question seems to hold a sexual innuendo, or it could be the tension in the air as you both try your hardest from devouring each other’s lips right then and there.

“Mmh, tastes like shit. Rather taste something else instead.” Haechan licks his lips and tilts his head only slightly. His mind is clouded with lustful, heavy thoughts of feeling your plushy lips against his own. And the possible taste of your tongue lapping with his brings him much excitement as well.

“Should I try some?” The power has slightly shifted into your hands as Haechan seems to be in a trance from your proximity and sensual drop in tone. But you’re both wrapped up in each other’s scent of shampoo and it’s enough to drive you both hungry for one another.

“Want your lips around something else.” His thumb pulls your bottom lip down just gently before slipping it into your open mouth. Your tongue circles his finger, slowly sucking to mimic the feeling of his cock. It sends tingles down to your lower abdomen and a small moan erupts from the back of Haechan’s throat.

Something pokes at your inner thigh and without needing to look down, you already know how turned on Haechan has gotten. He won’t be able to wait it out anymore. “So pretty.” Haechan coos as he drops his finger from your lips. “Do you still want your kiss, baby?”

“Of course.” You lean in thinking that Haechan is going to finally give you a good smooch on the lips, but he picks you up and tosses you onto the bed. He’s discarding your shorts and underwear, peeling it off your legs and tossing it somewhere in a corner.

He spreads your legs wide open, “holy fuck, you’re dripping.” And you’re so close to telling him to stop exaggerating until he gathers slick from your hole and it unleashes a small waterfall cascading onto the bed sheets. “Since when were you this easily aroused?”

Before you can retaliate, Haechan softly kisses your clit and slowly licks a long strip up your cunt. You arch into him, his lips pressing against you just a bit harder than the first time. Eyes are locked in on yours as he flicks delicate licks at your bundle of nerves. “Good girls get the best kinds of kisses.”

He will never be able to get enough of your taste or your legs squirming at the jolts of pleasure that run down them. The fact that stands is that Haechan inexplicably loves pleasuring women and performing cunnilingus, that’s undeniable. But there’s something very special about the way your body reacts to his smallest gestures and sensual words, so responsive and almost like, your body knows how much it wants him.

And if you two hadn’t been so cordial and polite about living with each other in the beginning and considerate of your other housemates, he would’ve fucked you a long time ago. It always felt as if Haechan was walking on thorns around you, making sure he didn’t cross the lines of making you feel uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, your pajama shorts do a terrible job at covering you up or the small moments when your shirt would ride up your stomach, he always found his stares to linger. And not to mention, all the moments he has walked by to catch a glimpse of you masturbating. Truthfully, he’d been masturbating to the thought of you too and only to find out that you shared the same interest in him.

You suppress your moans with your hand, afraid to risk the chance of getting caught by your other housemates. Nevertheless, your muffled moans encourage him to lick harder, building a quick rhythm. “Hyuck, please fuck me.”

It’s agonizing the more he edges you closer to your release. Haechan is addicted to lapping your endless flow of juices that he almost chooses to ignore your breathless plea. He lets go and the knot of pleasure in your stomach dissipates for the time being, your chest rising and falling rapidly to catch your breath.

“I thought you lost your ability to speak for a second.” Haechan doesn’t mean it as a joking statement, it’s meant to instill slight humiliation in you and with a bit of a teasing tone in his darkness.

You don’t take his words to heart, “I can speak and I know what I want.” Your voice is brighter than before, until Haechan’s grin turns mischievous and he’s plotting his next few words carefully.

“Use your smart words and tell me what you want then.” Taking off his clothes, his shaft slaps against his stomach with an angry red tip leaking precum.

The sight of his dick has you clenching around nothing and it’s obvious where your focus has shifted to. You mindlessly take off your shirt, “for a computer science major, you sure like words a lot.”

“For someone who’s ruining my sheets, you sure like to verbally under compensate how much you want me.” Haechan rubs his tip at your entrance to gather lubrication, a small whine escapes his lips as he’s trying his best to hold back from ramming into your wet cunt.

“Hyuck, please. I want you to fuck me speechless.” A sparkle catches in his eye as he’s gleaming at how the dirty words spill from your pretty mouth. Pulling you up, he holds your head steady and lightly taps your lips with his tip.

“Speechless? I guess you won’t be able to whine with my dick in your mouth.” And slowly, you invite his hot shaft into your warmth and the saltiness hits your palette. A long string of profanities fill the air when you lick the underside of his tip and hollow your cheeks to suck more of him.

“Do you think you can take the whole thing?” He moans and it shocks you how raspy his voice suddenly got. His hand is rests on the back of your head lightly, patting and smoothing your hair lovingly. If it isn’t for that lost lustful look in his eyes that represent an innocent curiosity, you wouldn’t have awarded his request.

Opening your throat, he slowly guides you further down his length. Haechan’s reactions are ungodly satisfying as he throws his head back toward the ceiling and instantly tightens his grip in your hair.

“Fuck, fuck. Okay, I’m done messing around.” He manages to chuckle playfully, pulling you off his dick as a string of saliva draws from the disconnect. Pulling you by your hair, he tilts your head upward at him and he leans down to kiss you: open mouth, tongues lapping, spit mixing.

The kiss ignites a flame in your chest being that it’s probably one of the hottest kisses you’ve ever experienced. Haechan’s dominance is caring, yet strong enough to remind you just how rough he has the ability to be.

“Lay on your side.” You do as you’re told as Haechan unravels a condom to slip on. A feeling of excitement bubbles up in your core, you’re finally getting fucked. It’s not the first time you and Haechan have done penetration, but it’s definitely not enough times to satisfy your lust for him.

With your body facing the door, Haechan lays down behind you, a hand on your hip to press your ass against his shaft. “How cute. We’re spooning.” He taunts menacingly and reaching around to rub your swollen clit.

You yelp and Haechan covers your mouth instantly. You’re a moaning mess in his hands as his fingers work magic stimulation down below. Every squirm has you bumping your ass up into his hard on.

Just as his tip enters your wet hole, a knock on the door has you both halting your movements. Your heart is racing at the interruption and it’s not going to look too good with Haechan’s dick barely up your cunt and hand hovering over your clit. There will be no lie that can get you two out of this naked situation.

“Haechan, can I borrow your speaker?” It’s the voice of Jaemin. Of all the times that he actually comes home, you’re midway having sex with Haechan.

It doesn’t seem to bother Haechan though, maybe a bit agitated that someone interrupted the tension, but overall he doesn’t seem phased. Then, you remember all the times you’ve knocked on the other boys’ doors during their hookups and it’s gotten to the point that no one really cares. “For what!?”

“To use in the shower.” A jiggle on the doorknob panics you, but Haechan is lifting your leg in the air and enters you fully without a warning. You bite back a moan as Haechan buries his face into your neck. The initial stretch from his girth stings with pleasure and you relax into him when you adjust to his size. “Why is your door locked?”

“Fuck, is this making you more wet?” Haechan whispers lowly into your ear and a smile grows against your skin.

“Shut up.” You mumble, clenching around him every time Jaemin tries to open the door. He starts moving his hips into you, long thrust that jolt your body every time he enters.

Haechan laughs, “it’s in the bathroom already, leave me alone! I’m with someone.” He’s looking down at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and the tight grip you have on the sheets. You feel all of him, his cock fills you up to the brim, grazing upon your sweet spot.

Jaemin scoffs on the other side, “okay. Use protection, kids.” And his shadow disappears from under the door. Haechan removes his hand and his hot moans fill your ears.

“No wonder why you leave the door fucking open. You want us to see you, don’t you?” His hips ram harder into your pussy, rougher and faster than before. The soreness begins to occupy your lower regions from how much Haechan stretches you. His dirty words aid you closer to your release. “Imagine if I didn’t lock the door and Jaemin saw me balls deep in you. You’d like that, huh? What a slut.”

Your legs feel like jelly as a familiar exhilaration surges through your limbs. “Speechless now, aren’t you?” Haechan smirks and drops your leg. Hands hold you by your waist as he bottoms out, his balls slapping your thigh slightly. Once he’s nestled in deep, he starts rubbing circles on your clit once again and you’re squeezing around him so well that he doesn’t need to move.

The added sensation brings you to your edge, along with the feeling of fullness. Without a fail, he always makes sure he takes care of you first. “I’m gon-- cum.” Words are jumbled in your scattered, empty brain. The release is on the tip of your tongue, the tips of your toes, Haechan’s rhythm on your bud doesn’t falter.

“Cum on my dick, baby. I want to feel you lose control.” His final encouragement leads you to your demise as your pussy clenches around him sporadically and your legs shaking from the pleasure. But it doesn’t stop, Haechan starts fucking you through your orgasm, so fast that it almost has you crying out of the intensity. His nails dig into your skin.

“Oh-- shit! Hyuck, I--” Haechan slams your hips down to match his and you’re holding onto the sheets for your life. The toe curling pleasure overwhelms you and you can’t tell, but you’re cumming again. It just never seems to stop.

With a last grunt and full thrust, you feel his dick pumping inside your walls. He kisses your shoulder tenderly and smooths over the moon crescents he left, “shit. I’m sorry for calling you out like that.”

“It’s fine. It was hot.” He pulls out and an emptiness disappoints you. Turning around to face him, you latch on and give him the biggest hug. “But I really just am forgetful! I don’t leave it open on purpose....”

“Baby, you say that, but do you also forget that you live with five other horny men?” He kisses your temples and sits you both up.

“That’s why I do it when you guys aren’t home.” Getting up, you start putting on Haechan’s shirt and slipping on your panties. “Do you think Jaem is done showering?”

“Probably, that guy uses 2 in 1 shampoo and body wash so he just lathers and rinses.” Haechan ties the condom and tosses it into the trash can. He slips on a pair of fresh briefs and starts removing his soiled bed sheets. “Come back and help me make my bed when you’re done.”

Nodding, you slyly walk out of Haechan’s room. You turn the knob as quietly as you can and shut the door softly. When you spin around, Jaemin walks down the hall with a towel around his naked shoulders and his black hair wet from his shower. His toned body is glistening with droplets as his sweatpants hang low on his hips and the waistband of his underwear peek out.

You’re so distracted by his appearance that you don’t realize he’s caught you leaving Haechan’s room. “Is that Haechan’s shirt?” He quizzes you, a smirk twitching his lips automatically at your doe eyed expression. “And are you not wearing pants, y/n?”

“I see you’re done with your shower.” You say quickly and you dash away to the bathroom. The moment you shut the door, you’re surprised by a random girl on the toilet.

“Sorry!” You both yell, covering your eyes at the sudden intrusion on both ends.

“I didn’t realize there wasn’t a lock on the door.” She says and you turn to face the door to give her some privacy.

“Yeah, it’s been broken for awhile now. We usually just put a sticky note on the door to show that it’s preoccupied.” You don’t even question who she is, denoting that it’s either Jaehyun or Johnny’s lady friend. “I’ll just wait outside.”

“Wait, do you live with Johnny?” She asks and truthfully, you’re not ready to go back outside in any chance that you’ll bump into Jaemin again. The bathroom is where you intended to hide until enough time is passed, while also doing your business.

“Yeah. We’re housemates.”

“Ah, that’s comforting to know that there’s another girl here. I thought it was just a house of guys, so I was a bit worried coming over.” Her voice sounds reassured and you’re exhaling out all the anxious air you had pent up since seeing Jaemin.

“That’s good. Men, am I right?” You try laughing to lighten the mood and surprisingly through the steamy suffocation, she giggles back.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never seen so many bottles of AXE body spray in one bathroom.” Living in a house full of men, you realize you slightly miss the bathroom talks with your girl friends.

“Look in the tub, there are four bottles of men body wash, yet they always use mine! It’s a hoax.” You announce excitedly, despite still facing the door.

“I have the same one! I fucking knew Johnny smelled like white strawberries and mint, but I couldn’t tell if the scent was from me or him.”

Maybe sometimes, it isn’t so bad living with a group of attractive men. You get to laugh with their hookups in the bathroom! And before you know it, Johnny is knocking on the bathroom door to the fit of giggles and questioning why there are two voices.

“I thought you had left without saying goodbye.” He says.

“Damn, the sex was that bad.” You joke and Johnny fakes a laugh through the door.

“Let me know if Haechan is any better, y/n.” You gasp at his statement, but don’t respond. The flushing of the toilet and the sink running being the only noises in the room. You’re stunned. Knowing Jaemin’s big mouth, he can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“It’s nice meeting you, y/n.” Johnny’s hookup gives you a warming hug before leaving and when she opens the door to join him, you give Johnny the middle finger as your form of response.

“Nice meeting you too!” You yell back to her and shut the door to finally do your business.

Great, now everyone knows you fucked your housemate.

#neosmutcollective #nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #kpopscape #nct smut #nct scenarios #haechan #haechan smut #lee haechan #nct

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years ago

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Cold Hands

Jackson Neill x Reader

For @storiesofsvu’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @detectivebarba. Followed up in Cozy Sweaters

Warnings: NSFW (smutty lines, no smut). Angst, cheating, breakup.

OK, so, my fluffy Jackson fics take place in a world where Sarah never happened or after she & Jackson broke up… But what if they didn’t?

1,800 words

“Here’s another one: ‘Professor Neill is super dreamy. He’s a PILF.’ What’s a PILF?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t read these comments. I don’t care,” Jackson replied with irritation. He did, and he does, but he wasn’t going to let some cultist make him out to be an exploitative, charismatic leader.

“But you did ‘eff’ a student, right?”

Jackson laughed nervously under the hot stage lights.

“Any chance you had a sexual relationship with a student you used for a source in your article?” Cal Roberts, the man sitting across the news set from him, raised an eyebrow innocently, reveling in the way his little ace in the hole had Jackson pinned.

“Of course not. That would be unethical.”

“Right, right.”

How the fuck did he find out? When Sarah chose to go back to the Meyerist Movement instead of listening to reason, he didn’t think she would tell anyone. Their fringe movement was dangerous—restrictive to personal freedoms. Letting them know that she was his source would have put her in danger. The fact that one of its leaders knew blindsided him.

He was tense for the rest of the debate, and the cameras picked up on it. He looked like an asshole. The cult won this round as far as the audience was concerned.

As the cameras turned off and the PA came to unclip his mic, Jackson stepped close to Cal and said, low enough not to be overheard, “I did care about her. I do. Tell her I miss her, and I hope she’s OK.”

Guilt over their affair swirled in his gut as he walked off the set—and came to a screeching halt as he ran into you.

You had been sitting in the vacant live-audience area to watch the filming, but you were standing now, as if you’d gotten up to meet him but froze halfway there and were just… staring. Your eyes were dull.

“Who was he talking about?” you asked in a small voice.

Anger he could have handled. His ex-wife was always screaming at him for his screw-ups. But this was something worse.

He could have placated you with lies. Told you that everything with Sarah was before he met you, but you were too clever for that—too interested in his research not to realize when he started using her as a source. Besides, you didn’t deserve to be lied to again. If he hoped to salvage his relationship with you, then you deserved the truth from now on.

“Listen, let’s just… go home and talk.”

You silently nodded.

***

A thick silence haunted the car ride home, punctuated only by the howl of autumn wind through the dark city streets.

On the ride to the studio, you had been so animated, helping him prepare for the debate. You would pretend to be a Meyerist and argue against him so Jackson could practice his response. He put his hand on your thigh, and it was so warm. You squealed at his icy fingertips, but instead of batting them away, you shoved them deeper between your thighs. “Someone has to help your bad circulation,” you declared with a grin. “Can’t let you get frostbite.” He could barely focus on the road.

Now, when he tried to say something… to broach the subject… you only stared out the passenger window at the passing streetlights and bare trees.

He reached out to touch you, but you shrugged him off.

***

Jackson couldn’t have known the deafening chaos of that car ride home. His home, not yours, though you had all but moved in. You’d been planning to make it official when your lease was up, but now you would have to renew it.

You’d have to let your roommates know you’d be staying.

All these little thoughts swarmed through your head like post-it notes caught in a cyclone—reminders of a million mundane plans falling apart and being remade. The logistics of separating two entangled lives. Would you take your houseplant back or leave it in Jackson’s kitchen? There was never enough light for it in your apartment.

If you started thinking about the big things—who was the student? How long? How many nights did he say he was working late when he was with them?—then you might fall apart.

The car was silent, but inside your head was an endless dark roar.

Jackson parked in the driveway, and without a word, you began wandering through the house like a ghost, picking up your things and packing them up in a plastic garbage bag. Half your wardrobe was here. It should take two trips, but if you had to come back… if you had to see him again, and he asked you to stay, you might be too weak. So you’d have to get everything in one trip.

Your feet shuffled lifelessly into the bathroom to retrieve your toiletries when Jackson squeezed through the door in front of you and blocked the sink.

“Stop. Please. Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I don’t want to know his name.”

The obvious thought was, maybe it wasn’t true. That Meyerist guy would have said anything just to make Jackson look bad. But if that were the case, Jackson would have told you so right away. He didn’t, and he wasn’t even trying to sell you an alternate fiction to exonerate himself. For a cheater, he was honest. Jackson never lied to you, so you used to think. That was why this… this was so unexpected. You never saw it coming.

You tried to get around him, but he kept getting in the way of your toothbrush until you looked at him. “She wasn’t a student. She was participating in one of my classes as a guest speaker. She’s not even enrolled at the university. He made it sound as if—”

“DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S THE PART I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH?!” you screamed.

Your anger had been so seething, quiet, you didn’t even realize you were angry until you finally opened your mouth and fury poured out like dragon’s fire. It caught you both by surprise. You shoved past him to grab your toothbrush and marched back out into the master bedroom without another word.

Tears pricked the back of your eyelids. You didn’t like yourself when you lost control like that, especially knowing how his ex had been. How much he flinched at raised voices. Part of you wanted to turn around and hold him, comfort him, apologize. Then you felt sick that that was your first impulse after what he did.

Maybe the bastard deserved it.

“I… just wanted you to know I’m not some kind of… of predator.” He sounded like a child, his voice high and thin.

You turned.

He looked so pathetic standing there in the bathroom with his rumpled shirt hanging off fallen shoulders, his eyes shining wet and desperate.

“Why?” you asked. It was the only question you could ask. The only one that mattered—if it even mattered. You heard your voice breaking as if it were in another room.

“It was just supposed to be research. I chatted her up to learn about the Meyerist Movement… It wasn’t cheating, at first. I never meant to let things go that far. But she was so smart, but vulnerable… I thought I could help her get out. I thought she was ready to leave religion behind, like I did. She was so much like I used to be. Before I knew it, I was falling in love with her. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Tears escaped your eyes, but you didn’t want them to. You didn’t want him to see you cry over him. “So you love her?”

“No! I love you—I chose you,” he croaked. “It’s been over for a long time. She was only using me to help her research the history of Meyerism. When I realized that...” He took a few steps toward you, but you took one back to stay out of reach.

You let out a bark of cynical laughter. “So I was your fallback? The one who actually cared about you? Supported you? It was too hard having this woman lean on you for help, so you just used me the same way?”

“That… that isn’t—”

“You don’t love me. I’m just a soft place for you to land. If she patiently waited at home for you, you would have left me, wouldn’t you?”

“It was a mistake. The worst mistake of my life. Please...”

“The worst part is, I thought you were better than this. I believed in you. You were always so cuddly and domestic, the kind of guy you settle down with—I thought I finally found a man I could trust.”

“You can. It will never happen again. I’ll spend my whole life making up for it if I have to.”

Unlike the tightly clenched tear ducts on your face, regularly scrubbed dry with the back of your sleeve, Jackson’s tears were freely flowing down his cheeks. He tried to hold you, but you shoved his cold touch away.

It was too late for that. His arms were not comfort anymore.

All you could see was him wrapping those arms around her. All while you were cooking him dinner, being so understanding of his late nights, waiting for him to come home. Never knowing. Never thinking he would betray you.

He must have washed her scent off him. Did he scrub his cock with soap twice just to make sure you wouldn’t taste her on him when you knelt between his knees? Did he think about her hair when he was pulling yours? Imagine her lips wrapped around him?

Was she better than you? Was that why he did it?

Did he finger her the same way, slow and gentle, before fucking her? You wondered if he murmured the same praises, told her she was taking him so well, if he gave that same breathy, “fuck,” just before he came inside her.

Weren’t you enough? What did you do so wrong that he needed to cheat?

Finally, you began to sob. Your whole body rocking, shoulders heaving in big gasping breaths. He took advantage of the moment and hugged you tight, whispering shallow promises meant to be comforting, and you could tell his heart was breaking at the sight of you in pain.

You let him hold you, just for a moment, because it still felt so good—he still felt like home.

But you were sobbing for broken plans. For the apartment lease you would have to renew when you had been looking forward to moving in. For the dog you and Jackson wanted to adopt from the shelter. For the Airbnb you booked in Vermont for leaf-peeping season that would have to be canceled.

His cheating hands felt cold on your back, but you let him hold you a little bit longer, because despite everything, your heart was breaking for him, too.

Because this would be the last time he ever held you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● • @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Jackson Neill #The Path #jackson neill x reader #storiesofsvufallbingo #my writing

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corpsette · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a sykkuno x fem!reader fic where she's this really cute and shy yet cheerful girly girl and how they would match. Like maybe they first "meet" through a stream that Sean or Felix invites them on and sykkuno's being his adorable self and finds her really pretty, and it's all fluff and blushy. 💖

YES, YES, YES!!! I LOVE THISSSS! I hope you enjoy 💞

𝑩𝑰𝑮 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵

pairing → sykkuno x fem! reader

words → 1.2k

the day was going by slowly, and it had been rather boring so far. you had spent all day watching other people stream, and, to be honest, you didnt feel like streaming today...

until sean dmed you asking if you wanted to fill in for someone and play among us with some very big creators.

of course you jumped on the opportunity! who wouldnt? it would benefit both your social life and your real life. besides, a few more friends wouldnt hurt.

"yeah, she should be joining any minute now!" you joined the voice chat and heard sean talking about you. "be nice, please! shes a very good friend of mine!!"

"no need to tell me twice!" you heard a sykkuno say. you had been a fan of sykkuno for a long time, but you didnt have the guts to message him. "oh, is that her in the vc?"

"y-yeah! hello everyone!" you said, smiling shyly as everyone tried to say hello at the same time. "I'm Y/N..."

"that's a lovely name, Y/N!" sykkuno said, making you blush and making your chat spam 'uwu.' "I've watched a lot of your streams, I'm a big fan!"

"thank you, sykkuno! I'm a big fan of you too!" and that was the complete truth. sykkuno was a big role model for you, he was one of the reasons you started streaming.

"okay, enough flirting, sykkuno!" rae butted in, making you both laugh awkwardly. everyone went around introducing themselves, and toast started the game.

the word 'crewmate' flashed over your screen. you quickly said goodbye to chat and connected to the proximity chat modules.

it took you a while to connect, though, so when you came back to the game you found sykkuno standing guard and making sure you didnt get killed.

"sykkuno?" you asked shyly, adjusting your headset ever so slightly. "is my mic working?"

"it's working! I can hear you!" sykkuno said, wiggling his character back and forth.

"oh, that's good!" you said. it was a little awkward, you had not the slightest clue on how to keep a conversation going.

"yeah! so, how would you like a body guard?" sykkuno asked, at this point you were both blushing and smiling like dorks.

you were big fans of eachother and didnt think this moment would ever come, since neither of you had the guts to tweet at eachother, let alone send a direct message.

"y-yeah, I'd like that. thank you!" you replied, but before you could move an inch, a body was reported.

"double kill in-" corpse started, but he was immediately shut up by rae's yelling.

"NONONO, SHHHHH!" she yelled, trying to talk over corpse. "BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING, ITS CORPSE. I KNOW YOU'LL PROBABLY SIDE WITH HIM BECAUSE OF HIS VOICE BUT ITS HIM!!"

you giggled quietly as the chaos unfolded and rae and corpse started blaming eachother. at one point you zoned out, only coming back to your senses when sykkuno called out your name.

"Y/N?" he asked, you looked up to see you and sykkuno were the last people who had to vote. "are you there?"

"oh! yes! I'm sorry!" you said, fixing your posture and focusing on your screen.

"who do you think it is, I'll vote with you." sykkuno smiled to himself as you hovered over each person who was being accused.

"I think its corpse..." you said quietly, not voting yet, but sykkuno voted right away.

"I trust you, Y/N!"

"fuck, I should've listened to Y/N." sean said, shaking his head. "small brain plays on my end tonight."

you quickly voted and watched as the voted racked up. 3 votes for corpse, 4 for rae, and 3 dead people. it was obvious that rae, sykkuno, and you voted for corpse, so you already knew who voted who.

"should we 50/50 to be safe?" felix asked, standing at the button and waiting to call it.

"speed run?" corpse asked, laughing slightly as felix started wiggling his among us character, his child dancing behind him.

"SPEED RUN!!" felix said in a deep voice, only for reactor to be called. "SHIT." everyone ran towards reactor, leaving you and sykkuno alone at the button.

"hi again, Y/N." sykkuno said, standing on top of you to protect you. "I know you're crewmate."

"yeah, and I think you're crewmate too..." you said, a bit unsure. "because of the double kill."

sykkuno chuckled and wiggled around. "yeah! and, even if you were the imposter, I'd let you kill me."

"what do you mean-" you stopped talking as the sabotage was fixed and sykkuno called a meeting.

"we're alive!" leslie said, taking a deep breath. "so, we were right with rae?"

"I dont think so..." you said, thinking about all the big brain plays you've seen toast do. "I think its toast and corpse. toast does these kinds of things a lot-"

"WHA? ME? LITTLE OLD ME?" toast practically yelled. "I'd never kill anyone!"

"b-but..." you mumbled, trying to sound confident. "we should at least 50/50 corpse just in case..."

"I'm with Y/N on this one!" sykkuno said in his cheery voice, voting corpse and making corpse gasp.

"sykkuno... are you simping for Y/N instead of me?" corpse faked a sad sounding voice. "I cant beleive it. I actually think its Y/N and sykkuno."

"oh, it's not me and Y/N we were together at spawn when the double kill happened." sykkuno smiled, thinking no one would sus you two after that.

"can anyone confirm that?" toast asked and there was silence all around. "GET EM!"

with that, everyone voted, and sykkuno ended up being voted out because everyone trusted toast...

and that's how you lost the game to corpse and toast. damn, they really were amazing imposters.

"how'd you know it was corpse and toast, Y/N?" ludwig asked, making you try and shy away.

"w-well... I watch all of you guys so I know what kinds of plays you make..." you expected to be laughed at, but instead you got praised.

"that was really big brain, Y/N, sorry I threw that game." felix said, running around the lobby.

"yeah, that was really smart." toast admitted. "I guess I'll have you change my tactics from now on."

"oh... thank you all..." you said, laughing gently. "I have to thank sykkuno, hes the one that kept me alive. so, thank you, sykkuno."

"it's no problem! just trying to make sure we all have fun!"

after the stream, sykkuno added you and discord and you started messaging. you were so lucky to be picked by sean to join the lobby, because that's how you met sykkuno!

sykkuno brought joy to your life, even on days when you weren't feeling like there was any joy in the world.

you cherished these moments with sykkuno, and soon enough, he was more than a friend to you. soon enough, he was your bestfriend.

and maybe even a little more...

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Partners {7}*

OA Zidan/Zeeko Zaki x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Drama, Action, Multiple POV changes, Talk and Mild depiction of Sex Trafficking, Racism Implied, Possibly Triggering Content, Character Drugging, Violence, Groping, Implied Blood, Plot, Mild NSFW, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 9k

Summary: You’re a damn good FBI agent in your own right. It is definitely partly to do with how well you’ve been trained and partly to do with you not letting anything or anyone distract you. You have a six-year plan that you’re fast-tracking for four. After being transferred from your office in Tampa, you’ve been sent to New York, which you’ve labeled the “big leagues.” Your first day there, after being introduced to your new partner OA Zidan you realized you’ve moved out of the frying pan right into the pot of distraction. A year later and your growing attraction for your partner still hasn’t been snuffed out.

Note: This is a first for me writing about a TV show and interjecting into it. Let’s see how this goes. I hope you guys enjoy this. As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

The slinkiness of the dress was not missed by you. Your fingers noticed it once you pulled it from the shopping bag. It was a pretty dress. You checked yourself in the mirror of the bathroom again, turning in every direction so you could see how you looked in a dress you probably would have chosen for yourself in Miami. The black sequins looked good against your skin, and the accent gold chains around your neck that draped down your body between your breasts made them look even more inviting than usual. You wondered who’d picked this dress. While you looked good, if you had to run, it would probably be a matter of time before you had a nip slip or a full-on boob pop out.

You took a deep breath, released it, and leaned closer to the mirror to peer deeper into your eyes. Your nerves were beginning to get the better of you.

“You can do this, Y/N. You’ve done this before. It’s not a big deal. You know the drill. You. Got. This!”

Taking a final breath, you stepped back, rearranged the neck of the dress, checked your make up then nodded to yourself, pleased at the final product. As you walked out of the bathroom and down the hall of the JOC, you tried to mentally psych yourself up. It had been a year since you’d done any undercover work and the nerves never really went away. Once you stepped into the common area where all your coworkers centered, one by one, the eyes drifted to you.

From the right, you heard a whistle. When you turned, it was Scola.

“Agent Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes then scoffed.

“Watch it, Scola.”

He lifted his hands in defeat as you walked up to Jubal, Kristen, OA, and Isobel. OA’s eyes slowly raked along your body, taking in every detail.

“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” you joked.

“You look incredible,” Isobel complimented.

“Eh, it’s just a dress. By the way, who picked this out?”

“That would be Kristen’s handiwork,” Jubal said with a smile as he bumped his shoulder into Kristen’s. You picked up on the way she smiled back at him before she focused on you.

“I see I picked right. I knew you had what was needed to carry it.”

“All right, all right,” you pushed out, trying to change the subject. “Are we ready to move?”

“Yes. We’re meeting our informant at a pickup spot near the heights. Let’s move people,” Jubal drilled.

Everyone went into motion, preparing to leave. The elevator ride was chatter filled as Jubal, Kristen, and Isobel listed things off from the file you had to remember. While your brain was functioning and focused on them, your body was also functioning and focused on OA, who was beside you with his hands clutched one over the other in front of him while he stared at the dial. Though he wasn’t looking at you, your body could feel the energy coming off of his body, and it was responding.

Once you piled into the van, you situated as Lim began explaining the intricacies of the few gadgets you wore, including mics in your diamond earrings, surveillance cameras embedded into the golden chains of the dress, and two chip trackers inside the ring, and an emergency explosive. You were impressed, and you let him know it. Lim was adorable. He always looked surprised to hear a compliment on how well he did his job or that someone noticed. You always made it a point to tell Lim how good of a job he was doing. You believed it was necessary to praise people when they deserved it, especially if you saw it.

You tried to retain the information you read in the files, along with the faces you saw. You knew the key to undercover work was memorizing as much as you could. Your success in Miami was because you were good with retaining information, thinking quickly on your feet, and solving things with small details that others would not have thought of. Your nerves were beginning to pick up, and you knew it was because while you’d been in a similar undercover situation before, this was a different monster. Whereas the sex club was a dangerous environment, it was a closed environment. With this operation, many variables would be left up to chance, and that were ever-changing. That meant more risk.

You tried not to look at OA. You didn’t want to give him any indication that you knew he was right and that this was too dangerous. Your father’s words echoed in your head.

“In this world, because of the color of your skin and your sex, you have to be twice as good and work twice as hard to get to where others would easily get to. You have to never show weakness. They will look for it because you’re a woman.”

Clenching your jaw, you straightened your posture and did your best to clear your mind. This assignment wouldn’t break you, thought to yourself over and over.

Fifteen minutes later, the van pulled up at the meet location that Jubal’s informant would come to get you to add to the shipment of women. After Lim checked that you were good with how the gadgets worked and were comfortable operating them, he gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder, a gentle squeeze, and a soft smile that spoke of his confidence in you. As he made a move to get out of the van, he stopped and came back to you.

“Can I say something I’ve always wanted to tell you?”

You nodded.

“Since you came to join us here, I’ve admired you. I think you’re smart, smarter than a lot of people I’ve worked with. You’ve impressed me more times than I can count, and I’m not in the least worried about you knocking this out of the park. Remember how badass you are.” He added a wink that made you smile.

“Thank you, Ian.”

“Anytime, Y/N. You’re—you’re great—you’ll be great.”

With that, he walked out and closed the doors behind him, leaving you and OA. You couldn’t help but smile. He was sweet.

“I think Ian’s got a crush,” OA uttered slightly under his breath.

“Oh, stop it.”

He approached you with his arms held out to you. Once he was close enough, his hands latched onto your waist.

“Should I be worried?”

You snorted then rose to meet his eyes. “You tell me. Should you?”

OA studied you for a few moments before he answered.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should.”

The warmth from his hands was working to calm some of your nerves. You sighed out, placed your hands on his forearms, and then traced patterns into his exposed skin.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Ya know something; I didn’t think I was a jealous man—before now,” he replied.

You stared at each other, neither of you speaking. After several long moments, you looked down. OA tipped your chin up, so you looked at him.

“I feel I have to say something right now,” OA began.

You quirked your eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“You look—incredibly gorgeous.”

Slowly your lips spread into a wide smile that got wider and wider.

“I can’t believe the first time I see you like this is for a sting operation rather than our first date.”

The butterflies began fluttering in your gut, making your knees go weak. You slouched back on the cold table that lined the side of the van. OA’s hands slid down to your hips and squeezed. The action did nothing for the fluttering in your belly, but it helped to stabilize you.

“Well—maybe you’ll actually get that first date if you get the balls to finally ask for it,” you teased.

OA’s smile began small until you were staring at his perfect teeth. With no hesitation, he lowered his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that he took control of. His lips trailed down your jaw and back to your ear where be nibbled and licked along its shell. With every lick, the butterflies in your gut fluttered more rapidly, and with every nibble, your sex throbbed. You couldn’t believe you were getting turned on at a time like this.

“Are you okay?”

His whisper against your ear made you sigh. It was the question you were dreading. Mustering as much gusto as you could, you put on a tough exterior.

“I’m fine. As I said, it’s no big deal and nothing I haven’t done before.”

The more you spoke, the less you believed your own words. When you looked at OA, he didn’t even look to believe your words.

“You don’t have to play tough with me. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying and when something isn’t as it seems.”

OA moved his hands from their place on your hips to buckle behind you at the small of your back. His long fingers splayed across your bare skin, making any cold shell you were trying to wear melt away. You sighed again.

“Okay, I am nervous, but it’s jitters. Everyone gets em’.”

OA kissed your forehead and kept his lips there for a few seconds. “I know you can do this. It’s never been a question of if you could. It was always, should you? I know you’ve got this because you are the most incredible agent that I’ve known in a long time. You’re smart, quick on your feet, charismatic, and don’t even get me started on what an amazing profiler you are. Plus, your right hook and roundhouse is a thing of beauty.”

You giggled, then lowered your head to his collar. Even in heels, he was still slightly taller than you. His chuckle vibrated against your forehead, and the tension in the van automatically decreased. When your laughs subsided, you bit your bottom lip and thought about your next words carefully.

“If this goes south,” you began before OA pulled you back so he could look at you.

“It won’t.”

“If it does,” you tried again.

OA cupped your jaw and slid his thumb along your lips until it was in the center, silencing you.

“It won’t. You got this, and I have your back. We all do.”

For some reason, that touched you more now than it ever had before. He always had your back, and so did the team. That was what a team was. You tried to keep your emotions in check, but the longer you saw the compassion in his eyes that felt more and more like something more intimate than compassion, the more your emotions went haywire. You crushed your body to his for a hug. Resting your cheek against his chest, you listened to the drum of his heart, hoping it would soothe you as it had less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Let me get this out, Omar,” you whispered, feeling your heart race.

“If things go south, I want you to know I have loved every single minute that I’ve been your partner. Thank you for making me a better agent, and thank you for helping me see sometimes following your heart can lead to great things,” you said, somehow able the keep your voice from shaking.

Before you could slow your racing heart, OA pulled you back again and crashed his lips to yours, making it race even more. You happen to open your eyes at the same moment he did, and while your lips danced together, your eyes spoke words that had been left unspoken in your heart.

It took just seconds for OA’s hands to drop to your hips again and yours to begin to quickly fight with the belt he wore. As OA squeezed your hips and moaned against your lips, you managed to free him of his belt and undo the buttons of his pants. When OA’s hands slipped to your backside, he gripped it with such a roughness you knew his need and how closely it mirrored yours. His hands quickly pulled at the fabric of the dress, inching it up over your hips to reveal your thonged ass to the cold surface of the table.

Finally free of his pants, he turned you, so you now faced the wall of the van. You bent forward, bracing your hands on the table as OA freed his member. When you felt him rub himself against your slit, you shuddered and anxiously anticipated the feel of his intrusion. As he slowly slid into you, connecting your bodies inch by inch, one hand gripped your hip, and the other covered your mouth in time to muffle the deep moan you let out.

OA sucked in a shuddered breath, then groaned. Once he was buried to the hilt, he circled his hips, making goosebumps erupt all over your skin. OA lowered his lips to your shoulder, bit down on your flesh then began thrusting in and out of you. While his movements were slow, the force with which he rocked into you was intense. Within seconds he’d sped his movements and the force that he flicked his hips. With every move forward, it was powerful enough to have your entire body jerk from it. In no time, you’d begun rocking along with him. When he retreaded, you did too, only to slam back onto him, taking all of him.

You could tell your movements were driving OA crazy because of the tightness of his grip on your body. He hovered over your back and went to your ear.

“Habibi,” he whispered. “Aikhtar,” he groaned. “Eshq,” he panted.

It took those three words to bring you to the horizon of your orgasm, and he must have known it because he sped up, slamming into you, filling you completely. It only took a few thrust and the cup of his large hand against your sex for you to whimper. As his fingers strummed your pearl, heightening your arousal making you more desperate for your release. It wasn’t long before OA was marking you as his from the inside out.

Slowly both of you came down from your euphoric cloud. Your breathing evened out, the tremble of your body slowed, but your heart still pounded, and you knew it was just for him. Within a few minutes, OA had you dressed and presentable again, and when he was the self-controlled and professional Agent Zidan again, he pulled you against him.

“I’m going to do everything and anything needed to make sure we get to have that date,” he said while gazing into your eyes with such intensity you knew he meant the words he spoke. “Anything,” he repeated for emphasis.

Before you could speak, there was a knock on the van, signaling that the informant had arrived and it was showtime. OA pressed his forehead to yours for a few seconds, then kissed your nose before he backed off. You turned to the table, looking into the purse you had, and reapplied your lipstick. When you were sure you were good, you and OA hopped out of the van to join the team with them none the wiser.

“I really wish we could put a wire on you, but I think you know what we can’t,” Isobel said.

“I get it. I’ll probably go through a strip-search,” you filled in. Once you said it, you heard OA grumble.

“We have the jewelry surveillance, so you’re not alone in there. We can’t talk to you, but we can hear and see what you do,” Jubal assured.

You nodded as you went over the file one last time. Over your quiet surroundings, you all heard the signal. You gave them a nod being careful not to look at OA before you walked away from them. You didn’t think you could handle that. After taking a few steps, though, you looked back at him. He stood there with his arms crossed across his broad chest with the deepest scowl on his face that accompanied his tightly clenched jaw. Deciding to test the tech, you said the one thing you knew you could that only he would get.

“My back, your back, we got that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

-OA-

He hated this more than he hated the stares he got his first few weeks at Quantico. Those weeks were a different hell. It was a hell that tested everything he knew about himself and how who he was would connect to his work—if it could connect. Because of his culture and heritage, he got a lot of flack. He’d had to work twice as hard to prove himself even though he’d done two tours in Iraq and had earned his dues and proven himself as an asset. This hell, though, it gripped his heart tighter than anything else. He wondered if it was because what he had to lose was just way in life. If he failed, he would have to live with the shame. Now, if this failed, he’d have to live with much more. Regret. Heartbreak. They were two things he didn’t want any part of. It was your fault.

He’d fallen in love with his partner. It was the first rule in the book. The first rule that was drilled in his head in every line he went into. In the Rangers, it was don’t get involved with your peers or form any personal or intimate connections with informants or those in the field. In the DEA, it was, go by the book and don’t get involved with anyone on any level. He’d learned how challenging and intricate undercover work was there. Here he was after all these years and all his life experiences throwing the book away, setting ablaze first, though.

He listened to the informant drill you on everything you needed to know as he walked you to the truck you’d be in. In the back of the van with Isobel, Kristen, Jubal, and the rest of the team, he felt like he was sitting on pins and needles, but he couldn’t show any of it. He knew if he showed too much concern, it would raise curiosity about your relationship's true nature. He had to remain calm and neutral enough for a partner and not venture into the realm of the concerned lover.

You were so good that as the truck drove with you in the back, you sang a song in French. It wasn’t just any song, though. You fed them intel of everything that was around you, how many other girls were in the back, their descriptions, scents, and any other piece of information that would help with the case. Everyone around him looked pleased, and he knew Isobel was relieved. You were showing in less than an hour why you were the right person for the job.

“She’s got this,” Jubal said aloud while nodding his head and snapping the rubber band against his wrist, a nervous tick he’d noticed when Kristen was injured in the hospital.

At the thought of Kirsten, he looked across to her. she was sitting with Ian, and the two were talking closely, most likely about the case, but it made him look back to Jubal for his reaction. The look on Jubal’s face didn’t give much away, but being a good profiler, he picked up on a few things. Jubal didn’t look to like how close they were. He wondered then if you and he weren’t the only ones who were fraternizing.

The puzzle gave him something to occupy his mind instead of him worrying and thinking of worst case scenarios, and he was glad for it. After almost forty minutes, your reporting notified that the truck had stopped and everyone was being led out.

“Here we go, people,” Isobel notified.

The tension in the van returned tenfold as everyone’s attention went to the screens. He tagged the route the truck had taken thanks to the tracking devices you wore and calculated the quickest route to you in case things went south. He watched the feed you expertly gave. You made sure to turn in every possible direction so you could give them a quick lay of the land. Every angle Ian and Kirsten tagged, they let out an audible “yes.” You were making everyone’s job easier.

You were led into a large house. The interior was decorated richly. The techs worked to make connections with everything in the feed, artwork, photos, and even furniture. Any of it could lead to a break. You stopped for a second, then bent forward, bringing a clear photo of four men into the frame.

“Get that picture scrubbed. I want to know everything about all of them, even their childhood pet’s name. Come on, people. Let’s get Y/N out of there in under twenty-four hours,” Jubal drilled.

The van came alive with chatter and activity, and he focused more intently on the feed. With his fingers steepled underneath his bearded chin, he tried to stay present.

“File in here, ladies. You know the drill. Inspection.”

He clenched his jaw, hating what that sounded like. He continued watching the feed. He took in the details of the room and guessed they were holding the women in a basement. The women around the room were all dressed in their best. He’d clocked bruises on some and small injuries on others. Having worked an undercover case like this one, he knew the ones with small injuries were probably the older ones that had been acquired over a year ago while the ones with bruises were newer. In situations like these, the older ones, because of their wear and tear, were abused more. They were usually kept on reserve for those with particular tastes. They were deemed the expendable ones.

When the men approached you, they brought you into another room where two men were waiting. Once they laid eyes on you, they whistled and made catcalls at you.

“Wow. We have an exotic one.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Dulce,” you replied.

“Ah, you were brought in with Snake, part of the special shipment from Florida. He said very good things about the women in that shipment.”

The man approached you and slowly walked around you before he stopped in front again.

“Where you from, honey?”

“I can be from anywhere you like.”

“she’s good,” Isobel voiced. “She knows giving men like that control means appeasement.”

“So you’re a people pleaser, huh.”

“Absolutely sugar. I please people,” you replied.

The men laughed together before exchanging glances.

“Well, Dulce, we gotta search you, so be a good girl as I—sample the goods.”

He watched the man approach you. He didn’t know if he could stomach watching, but he didn’t look away.

“Ah, very nice.” He sounded like the sleaziest of perverts, and his anger flared.

The air in the vibe went from tense to uncomfortable. They all knew what was happening. He was glad he couldn’t see your face. As soon as he thought it, you were moved, and you now stood in front of a mirror, and your reflection was now what he saw. The man in a burgundy button-down and black slacks was before you—on you. He walked behind you then brought his hands around to cup your breasts.

“Son of a--.”

Clenching his jaw, he continued watching. The sleazeball's hands slid down your abdomen.

“Everyone look away,” Isobel ordered.

He did not. When he saw the asshole’s hand creep to your crotch, he was ready to end this whole thing. The look on your face was a detached one. You didn’t look as if it phased you.

“Hey! What’re you doing? She’s for the boss. No one is to touch her.”

The informant came into the frame just in time before the perv groped you any further.

“I’m sure Boss would want us to make sure she’s clean.”

“You’re just trying to get your rocks off. You know how he feels about the first touch. Should I tell him that you dirtied his entertainment for the night?”

The two men faced off, but the informant didn’t back down.

“You’re lucky you’re so high up, Snake.”

“Shut the fuck up. Know your place. You, out.”

You walked to the door with Snake behind you. While everyone else in the room released a relieved sigh, he didn’t. This was but a tiny victory. There would be many more tests and close calls before the night was done.

“I’ll get you to the bathroom upstairs. It is next door to the office. You have three minutes. Use them wisely. I’ll be back to bring you to them.”

A little while later, you walked into the bathroom and released a breath. He could tell you forgot about the camera on you as you allowed your nerves to show—just a little. He wished he could be there to help in any way you’d let him, but he wasn’t. He even wished you could hear him. After a fifteen or twenty second reprieve, you were sneaking out the bathroom door to the office next door. Once inside, you began rummaging through cabinets, drawers, folders, and even the trash, giving them a glance at anything you came across. You moved so quickly that each analyst worked on each piece of data your lens came across.

“I think I found something,” you said, opening a folder with the letters “NDB” tapped across its cover. You flipped through the pages giving them two or three seconds each page to capture it in a screenshot.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s it,” Jubal cheered on.

“That has to be a record with getting in,” Isobel said more to herself than anyone else.

“It looks like these are future plans. I have names, dates, locations, pictures even.”

“That’s all we need, right,” Kristen inquired.

“I mean,” Jubal began.

“No. while this is good, we need a clear shot of them all in the room and to hear talk about any attack as well as get them in some sort of incriminating situation. With that, we got 'em dead to rights,” Isobel clarified.

“Fuck!”

It was an outburst he hadn’t expected. He’d been trying to hold it together, but the thought of you being there any longer really was not sitting right with him. the eyes in the van trailed to him. No doubt they were shocked to see him lose his cool. No one said anything about it, though. He watched as you snuck out of the office after putting everything back to make it in the bathroom. Once the bathroom door clicked shut, Snake was there to retrieve you.

“Change of plans. You girls are meant to be eye candy. Sort of like a look but don’t touch event. He likes to use this as his foreplay. Keep a cool head, and remember you’re not trying this on for the day. You live this. Act accordingly.”

~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Snake led you into another part of the house that was filled with girls and about ten men that were being entertained by the chosen girls. You looked around, clocking your exits and the possible escape routes first, then took inventory of the girls and finally the men. Snake left your side but not before giving you a stern look as if to remind you that your life was not the only one at stake here. You didn’t need a reminder.

Your encounter in the room was a quick reintroduction that woke your ass up to the real dangers that you’d now found yourself in. Back in Miami, you’d found yourself in a similar situation, and the only way you were able to get through it was to detach from it. You mentally put yourself in the frame of mind of a different person and became them. It made it easier. You knew it was what you would have to do now.

“Dulce, Dulce, Dulce, Dulce,” you whispered to yourself before you took a deep breath and slowly released it. When you did, you decided to fake it until you had it. Your first move was to take a lap around the room. You still had to locate the SVU agent on no intel. The department was reluctant to share any information for fear of a leak because of the case's sensitive nature and how long their agent had been undercover. So you were running on nothing but the assurance that if possible, they would make contact.

One lap turned to two, but before you could do a third, one of the men approached you, cornering you.

“Why hello. I haven’t seen you before.”

You pasted on a sugary sweet smile and leaned against the wall. “Oh, no? I’m new.”

The man smiled, giving you a chill.

“I like new. I like to break in the new thoroughbreds.”

He grabbed your wrist and began dragging you through the room. His grip was tight, but you didn’t make a sound. You could see he was dragging you toward a couch. From the corner of your eye, you saw one of the girls watching you. Her long brunette hair framed her face, and her plum-colored lipstick gave her a youthful glow. Before you could take in any more details, the man dropped onto the couch and released your wrist.

“Dance.”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his actions and the command.

“All right, darlin, no need to get rough.”

You swayed from side to side in front of him in slow movements using the time to formulate a plan. Slowly you turned your back to him as you began winding your waist. It was then you noticed a dangerous looking man across the room also watching your every move. Snake approached him, whispered, and nodded in your direction. Bingo, you thought. Adding to the show you were putting on, you trailed your hands along your body and beginning at the outer parts of your thighs, up along your hips. When you reached your stomach, you brought them up to cup your breasts, all the while staring at the man across the room. Turning from him and back to the younger gentleman on the couch, you smiled, bit your bottom lip, and winked.

“You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded.

“Do you know what naughty girls get?”

You shook your head.

“This.”

The man gripped his appendage and shook it for emphasis.

“Come get this cock, slut.”

As he lunged for you, you saw Snake approach. He whispered to the man before he made contact, and the look on his face went from lust riddled to fearful. He straightened his clothes, then walked away.

“he says get a glass of champagne and sit.”

You took the glass of champagne that Snake offered you and sat on the now empty couch. You knew that you had him on the hook. You’d expected it to be more work than that. For the next few hours, on the couch was where you remained. You watched every immoral thing the men did to the women and sat through it all. The first hour was difficult because every injustice you saw you wanted to remedy, but by hour two and three, you’d found a way to tune it out.

A few hours later, you were brought over to the boss. You recognized him from the pictures in the files. His eyes roamed your body, taking in every detail. It was a full two minutes before he spoke.

“You name.”

“Dulce.”

He chuckled. “Ha, the Spanish word for sweet. Are you sweet?”

“That’s for you to find out, I guess.”

No words followed. The way he looked at you made your skin crawl. It was the look of a true psychopath. He was the worst kind, though, a hypocritical one, one that sought to subjugate that which he hated. He preached up and down how whites were the superior race, and any others were inferior and seen as dirty, but here he was eying you like he planned to give you a thorough cavity search knowing damn well your skin was not white.

You took in the details and learned his ticks. From the way his jaw flinched every few minutes to the way he held on to the arm of the chair, you knew he was trying to hold tightly to something inside of him. Men like this often had a secret side to them.

“Sit.”

Doing as you were told, you sat. He continued his conversation. Again the girl with brunette hair caught your eye. She was watching every move you made, and that fact alone told you she was the SVU agent. It was a hunch, an unproven one. The mention of an attack had your attention going back to the man seated beside you. His hand came out to clasp your upper thigh. His fingers between your crossed legs holding on as if he owned you. Men like him always thought people were property to own, use, then trade.

“Just make sure everything goes off without a hitch. We’ve worked too long for his, and too many lives have been lost for it all to be for naught.”

“Don’t worry. As we speak here, they are setting up the event location. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have our victory. That is why we’re here tonight—to celebrate.”

You hoped those in the van got that.

“Maybe it’s time to take your turn,” one of the men suggested.

The Boss’s eyes landed on you before he brought them to his hand on your thigh. “Soon. You go sit there,” he ordered.

You stood and walked over to the brunette who’d been watching you for the last few hours and sat beside her. You didn’t want to give yourself away, so you said nothing. In undercover work, you never knew who had flipped. Pretending to be someone else twenty-four-seven took its toll, and many blurred the lines forgetting who they really were. You didn’t know if she was one of them. If she were, she’d give you up in a heartbeat.

Instead of giving yourself up, you decided to play it cool and observe. One way or another, she would show who she really was. The scene before you quickly got old. No one touched you or the Burnett you sat beside. It was like they all knew their place and didn’t even dare question it. They didn’t touch you, but they sure watched. You’d caught so many of them eye-fucking you it was seriously making you sick. For a second, your mind ran on OA and if he’d seen the scene in the backroom. As quickly as your mind dashed to him, you forced it away. Clear head, you reminded yourself. The easiest way to end up dead was to lose focus.

A middle-aged man in grey suit pants and a matching grey button-down that was unbuttoned one too many buttons stopped in front of the two of you. He smiled and eyeballed the brunette first, then you.

She kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Keep walking, Pete. Even you’re not dumb enough to touch one of Lowball’s treats. You know he likes them clean, and you also know what he’ll do to ya if he sees one print.”

This so-called Pete rolled his eyes, sighed, then walked away mumbling something underneath his breath.

“Loser,” she finished.

That was when your eyes met.

“You’re new.”

“What of it?”

She smiled, then continued chewing her gum.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Dulce.”

“Ah, I like sweet things.”

She trailed her pointer up over your exposed knee until it made it’s way to the hem of your short dress. Once there, it lingered, seductively tracing the hem.

“Your print doesn’t count?”

She smiled, then leaned to your ear. Her lips were close enough for you to feel them.

“Nope. He likes to watch. Take a look.”

You slyly glanced to the one she’d called Lowball, and sure enough, he was watching the two of you like a hawk on his perch.

“See. He gets off on it, especially if the new treat has to be broken in. Do you?”

You turned to look at her, your lips were centimeters apart, but you didn’t back down.

“Do I what?”

She smiled, bit her bottom lip then spoke. “Need to be broken in.”

You slowly smirked then bit your own bottom lip. Two can play this game.

“Depends on who’s doing the breaking,” you replied.

The brunette smiled, then closed the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours. Before you knew it, she was taking charge of a sultry kiss. She rolled her tongue around yours then sucked. As she did, you felt her hand cup your breast. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you also knew that was the wrong instinct. This was a test. You allowed her to kiss you, then battled her for control. After a minute, the kiss was still going, but once you thought of it, she pulled away, sucking her bottom lip.

“Was I your first?”

You gave her a faux shy smile. “No”

She smiled wider.

“Hey, lowball. This stallion is a certified good time.”

She looked away from you for a few seconds and looked to Lowball before she smiled wider.

“Let’s go.”

You allowed her to lead you by the hand through the room filled with sex and drugs until you were in a hall. Neither of you spoke, and when you looked behind you, there was Lowball with his eyes on you.

“I’m Tommi, by the way,” the brunette said with a smile.

Soon you walked inside of a bedroom that was made of luxury but built for a sleaze. The room was filled with glass and leather. It even smelled like leather. The more you walked into the room, the more detail you took in. The linen on the bed was black silk, and there was even a mirror above the bed.

“Go get ready, Tommi. Let me have five minutes with this beauty.”

Your gut tensed, and Tommi hesitated, looking at Lowball.

“Aww, you’re going to have fun without me, daddy?”

Her whine was loud. Lowball smiled.

“Don’t worry, angel, I promise you’ll be here for the fun stuff.”

Tommi glanced at you, then back to Lowball, then shrugged as she walked to another door inside the bedroom. Before she closed the door behind her, you noticed her hand making fists in a staggered pulse pattern. Instantly you recognized it as a common sign you’d learned at Quantico. It meant you’re not alone or among friends. Tommi was the undercover agent with SVU. You looked to Lowball who stared at you as if he were trying to figure you out and unnerve you. You wouldn’t let it work.

“Dulce, cute name. how are you going to prove it?”

“The easiest way to find out if something is sweet is to taste it,” you teased, uncrossing and crossing your legs again.

His eyes dropped to them, and that was where they remained. After too long, he stood and walked over to the bar. You heard the clinking of glass and crystal and anxiously waited for either him or Tommi to come back in. when he turned to you again, he held two glasses filled with a brown liquid. When he sat again, you watched him dig into his pant pocket and come back out with a small clear packet with white powder inside of it.

Fuck, you thought. Many perps who operated sex trafficking rings liked to string their girls out before spending time with a perp. The gossip was the drugs always made the girls more compliant and easier to take advantage of. You watched him pour the contents into one of the glasses. Your stomach fell.

“Oooh, daddy, now we’re really starting this party,” Tommi interjected as she crossed the room dressed in a sexy burgundy lingerie set.

“Mmm, you look, wonderful angel,” Lowball complimented.

He held out the glass that was substance-free to Tommi and held the one that he’d just laced to you. You hesitated. You knew precisely what the plan was after you drank that, and depending on what it was, you had thirty minutes before your choices would no longer be your own.

“There are two ways out of this room, Dulce. Covered in, or filled with my superior cum or dead. Your choice,” Lowball informed.

Tommi caught your eye. She sat on Lowball’s knee, rubbing his arm, but her eyes were dark.

“Take a ride with me, Dulce,” she chimed.

Sighing, you took the glass and swirled the liquid around, examining how undetectable whatever it was he’d poured in was. You downed the drink in one rise and tried to keep from vomiting. Shit was about to get real, you thought.

Lowball smiled then stood, making Tommi stand as well.

“Good job Dulce. I knew you’d see it my way,” he said before he walked away to the door.

“I’ll be back in as much time as it takes that to kick in. You girls have some fun.

The door closed behind him, and you gasped. Tommi was beside you in seconds. She dipped a little lower to come face to face with your earrings.

“She’s just ingested Rolong. It’s a nastier version of Rohypnol these assholes craft themselves. You have thirty maybe forty minutes to figure out a way to grab control of this sting, or else your girl will find herself in a situation she won’t be able to avoid.”

She looked at you, and though she looked relatively calm, you could still see some sort of panic in her eyes.

“I have this.”

She dug in her cleavage and pulled out a syringe. You had no idea how she’d concealed it for its size.

“What—what is this?”

“It’s adrenaline. It’s not much, and it won’t have a big of an impact as I’d like, but it will help with the effects. It’ll buy us maybe fifteen minutes,” Tommi explained.

“Fine.”

You held out your arm, giving her permission to inject you.

“It’ll work better to your thigh.”

Tommi pulled up your dress to find the right spot, then lowered the needle. Before she inserted the tip into your skin, she looked back at you. You gave her a nod to proceed. The injection's sting was sharp, and it felt as if it continued to go for so long.

“Here we go,” Tommie whispered before she administered the medical cocktail.

The burn in your thigh began almost immediately. It was a burn that increased, a burn that intensified until it felt like a terrible muscle spasm without the pain. Once the burn subsided, you could have sworn you felt the drug course through your body. It could have been your imagination or the effects of the other drug you’d ingested. You didn’t know.

“In a minute or two, you’ll feel like you’ve stuck your finger in a socket. Try to remain calm. Remember, when he returns, he will be expecting you to be disoriented and pliable. You have to play along, or he will know something is not right. Do you understand me?”

You nodded though your head felt heavy, and you felt as if you were about to topple over any minute. The woman in front of you was no longer clear or alone. There looked to be three or four of her. You tried to snap yourself out of it, and that was when you felt your heart begin to race. It began beating ten times faster than it had before. The only other time you recalled it beating like this was with OA. You heard Tommie speak again, but you didn’t quite understand what she said. It sounded muffled and distorted as if her voice was from a static transmission.

“Come, you have to be ready by the time he gets back,” Tommie said.

She walked over to the bench in the bedroom and returned with a black two-piece lingerie set along with a pink robe. This was not new to you. Men like these liked to see their prize displayed in as little clothes as possible. You dressed with Tommi’s help. With each passing minute, you felt the effects of both the adrenaline and the drug. Also, with each passing minute, your movements became slower and slower.

Once you were changed, you looked at yourself in the mirror, and you looked ready to seduce any man. You staggered to the bed and then dropped onto it, unable to even carry the weight of your own body anymore. Tommi sat beside you and opened her mouth to say something but the door suddenly opened. Tommi laid on top of you and whispered for you to play along. She nuzzled your neck while caressing your thigh.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I think I’ll watch for a moment,” Lowball said.

Tommi looked at him and smiled. “I have a better idea. Let me entertain you while the Rolong takes full effect.”

She stood and walked to Lowball, who was seated a few feet from the bed. The sound of loud pop-rock filled the room, and Tommi’s hips moved along with it. You laid there feeling as if there was a war going on inside of you. Two impulses were fighting for control. One impulse wanted to lay there, do nothing and stare at the ceiling that had begun spiraling as if it were a kaleidoscope. The other impulse wanted to get up and dance as if this were the last night you would be alive. Your limbs didn’t know which to listen to. Every time your muscles twitched to stand, your upper body refused to obey.

Your brain found it next to impossible to think of one thing. It continued to jump from topic to topic, making you dizzy in the process. You tried to fight against the effects of the roofie you’d been given. You tried to aid the adrenalin pumping through your body, trying to work as a diluting agent. Several times time felt as if it lagged. It felt as if even your blinking was slowed, taking forever to close your eyes and open them again.

When you felt the bed dip, you didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. Looking to your right, you saw Tommi. She came to your ear and whispered.

“We have ten minutes,” she whispered before she climbed on top of you then pulled Lowball into her embrace. You laid there watching, becoming more and more unsure of what was happening.

“I think she’s ripe for the plucking.”

Tommi giggled, then looked down at you.

“I think we’d have a better time making her watch first. She needs to know what you like, daddy.”

He looked to be contemplating things, and as he did, his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every detail. You felt a hand slide down your body, beginning at your neck and down the center of your body until it reached your navel.

“I like that idea.”

With that, he pulled Tommi to him, leaving you there to watch and listen. Your being must have felt how precarious your situation was because a strong will to fight overcame you, giving you renewed energy.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Lowball pushed Tommi aside and climbed on top of you, burying his face in your neck.

“The best way to learn is to do. She will catch on quick if she wants to live.”

Almost as soon as his hands began roaming your body more vigorously, screams could be heard, but Lowball didn’t budge. When he heard the sound of a gunshot and glass shattering, he rolled off of you, dropping to the floor beside the bed. The room began to fill with smoke.

“Stay here,” Tommi shouted.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, but real-time at the same time. You desperately tried to keep up.

“Snap out of it, Y/N. Get up. Get up!”

Though you were trying, your limbs were not obeying you. The sound of gunshots became louder and more persistent. Coughing, you tried to focus on making yourself get up. You tried to will your body to cooperate. Clenching your jaw, you screamed.

“Get up!”

With much effort, you rose then bent forward until you were able to sit up straight. Instead of celebrating this small feat, you willed yourself to stand. You stood then tried to steady yourself. Before you could take a step, someone barreled into you, taking you to the ground. That was when your muscle instinct took over. You swung a punch that connected with someone’s jaw. Not waiting for them to retaliate, you began fighting back, not knowing who you punched. When you felt knuckles connect with your face, it had a strangely sobering effect like a second injection of adrenaline.

You rolled onto them and proceeded to punch, not stopping. You felt a gun to your back. Before pausing, you punched the person underneath you once more. When you did that, the person behind you tried to grab you but got your robe instead, pulling it clear off you. As they did that, it gave you reprieve enough to do one of the tricky moves you’d learned at Quantico, which allowed you to flip the perp over your shoulder to land on the ground. You scurried around for the gun, praying you found it in time, especially with the fog in the room. When you grabbed it, you used the butt of the gun to slam down into the face of whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves your adversary.

You stood and staggered to the door, then leaned on it trying to catch your breath. You checked the magazine in the Glock you held. Satisfied, you took a few more breaths trying to overcome your debilitation.

“Let’s go, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

You pushed yourself off the door then proceeded to go through the hall, fighting every step of the way. Every few moments, you leaned against a wall to catch your breath. A few gunshots sounded behind you, making you crouch and aim backward to clip the kneecap of one of the despicable men who worked for Lowball. When they reached for their weapon, you shot again, seeing the bullet puncture their chest. While they pushed out their last breath, you continued on.

Getting to the stairs that led downstairs, you found bodies littered along the way.

“Stop right there!”

In front of you, the same man from the inspection stood there, pointing his pistol right at you.

“Ha, of course, it was you. I knew there was something off about you.”

“Guess you should have trusted your gut. Lower your weapon, and we’ll offer you a good deal,” you countered.

“Not a chance.”

“Listen dickhead. Do you hear that? That silence says your side has lost, and mine has won.”

He lunged for you, and his shoulder knocked the wind out of you as he took you down, making both of you tumble down the stairs. You felt each step the entire way down. When you’d finished tumbling, you laid there, unable to move.

“You bitch!”

He climbed on you and wrapped his hands around your throat, and began squeezing. You gagged and coughed. It was then that the roofie took the strongest hold of you. Your entire body felt heavy, and even the thought of clawing his eyes out was too much. Every time you lifted your hands to do the job, they only plopped back down. You knew you were seconds from blacking out and seconds from death.

He pulled one hand away, reached into his shirt pocket, and uncapped a needle with his mouth.

“Let’s see you survive this!”

He stabbed the needle into the side of your neck that he held with one impossibly strong hand. You screamed as he injected the substance into your bloodstream and, in the same breath, managed to reach the gun that was a few feet away from you and mustered enough energy to aim at his gut. A gunshot sounded, and the man’s movements above you paused for a moment before he tried to begin again. It was enough of a pause for you to take better aim with the gun, this time releasing another bullet in the center of his chest. He slumped forward enough for you to overpower him, but still, he fought. You rolled onto them and released one more bullet right in the center of his head.

It was then you shouted out before you dropped onto him, then flopped to your back to stare at the ceiling. The sounds of gunshots around you slowed to only a few every so often. You didn’t know how long you laid there. It could have been five, ten, or more minutes. When you felt able, you sat up and stood, using the wall to hold your weight.

With the gun in hand, you walked through the large home. You felt half-dead, and you knew it was whatever he’d injected you with. Your steps became slower and slower. Your movements more and more lagging. Still, you continued pushing through door after door, trying your best to fight. You slowly pushed through yet another door and found bright scope lights and red laser dots on your lingerie-clad body.

“Freeze!”

You tried to raise your hands but only made it halfway.

“Y/N!”

Hearing OA’s voice, your body finally gave out. Before you touched the floor, OA was there, engulfing you in his arms.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered.

You felt him tapping your cheeks, making you look at him blearily.

“Are you hurt?”

“Help me up.”

OA used his strength to stand you up. Kristen was to your side in seconds, and in a few more seconds, OA had draped his FBI jacket around your shoulders before he scooped you in his arms. Unable to fight the drugs in your system any longer, you passed out sure of your safety in OA’s arms.

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

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darkblueboxs · 3 years ago

Text

Calling Home

Summary:

"What if Neil hid his phone where his kidnappers wouldn't find it? What if he called Andrew while on his way to Baltimore? What if Andrew had to listen, heart tearing in two, to Neil's journey into his father's basement?"

Andrew fishes his phone from his pocket, chest emptying himself of air when he sees Neil’s name flash across the display. His hands are shaking as he hits return call, shaking like they haven’t done since he went off his meds, and in many ways the lurch of loss in his gut feels like withdrawal.

He thinks the call is about to time out, when, suddenly, connection.

“Neil,” says Andrew, and it sounds dangerously close to a prayer.

Read here or on AO3

Andrew finds Neil’s rucksack and racquet four gates down from the one they left through. That’s when he knows – isn’t sure what he knows, but knows, because Neil would never willingly surrender his bag or racquet, would keep a white-knuckled grip on them even if the world were ending. It feels like the world is ending, and if it isn’t Andrew is going to end it himself, is going to rip and burn and tear and cut until there’s nothing left of this stupid hunk of rock. Neil is gone.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket. Andrew ignores it. He doesn’t have time to deal with Kevin or Renee or Nicky or anyone else pestering him about where he is and what he’s doing. Right now there’s only one thing on his mind, and that’s-

The buzzing stops.

It’s only as the call times out that Andrew snaps back to sense with a jolt. Neil’s phone wasn’t in his bag. Which meant he could have-

He thinks the call is about to time out, when, suddenly, connection.

“Neil,” says Andrew, and it sounds dangerously close to a prayer.

“Stop it,” Neil’s voice cracks over the phone, and in the black wash of memories that follows it takes Andrew a moment to realise that it isn’t him Neil is talking to. The voices are muffled as though reaching the mic through layers of fabric,and Andrew crushes the device against his ear. Most of the crowd has dispersed in the aftermath of the riot, but still he finds himself scanning the surroundings for somewhere quieter, somewhere he can listen, think-

“Stop me,” taunts a cool, female voice that has Andrew’s train of thought stalling in its tracks. “I told you to keep still, didn’t I?”

“Where are you taking me, Lola?” Neil says, loud and, in Andrew’s opinion, far, far too obvious. The bitch – Lola? – laughs. Andrew would thank Neil for giving him the name if he wasn’t determined to kill him for everything else.

“Where the fuck do you think? Daddy’s waiting. Speaking of which, I can’t take you to him with such a stain on your face. Rome?”

The image that springs to Andrew’s mind is inconceivable. Or, it would be, if he hadn’t lead the kind of life that provides plenty of material for a blackened imagination to work with. His feet are moving before he’s aware of it, and he’s biting his tongue to keep him from shouting Neil’s name down a phone where at best the sound would go unheard and at worst it would get Neil killed. The stadium grounds flash past, and something clicks on the other end of the line, followed by a breathless “You’re sick,” that turns Andrew’s blood to slush in his veins.

He’s jogging up to the team bus when Neil starts to scream. He stumbles, doubles over as though feeling the pain himself, and this time a noise that might have been Neil’s name slips through. Neil is making too much noise on the other end for the word to have made it through, but regardless a rush of fury has Andrew biting down on his cheek so hard he tastes blood.

He drops the bag and raquet as soon as he’s in range of the bus to slide a blade into his free hand. Nicky is the first to see him, staggers back from whatever he sees in Andrew’s face, mouth hanging open around an exclamation that never makes it past his lips. Noone is stupid enough to lay hands on him as he climbs onto the bus, and their questions go unheard. All Andrew can hear is screaming.

Abby is checking Kevin over when he reaches them, medical kit open at her side. Andrew shoves her from his path with the flat of his knuckles and she staggers back, diagnostic torch clattering to the floor. Kevin barely has time to look up before Andrew is throwing him up against the bus window.

“Tell me where Neil’s father is or I’ll slit your fucking throat,” Andrew says in a voice that isn’t his.

There are shouts behind him, someone get coach and don’t touch him and it’s Kevin, he won’t, will he?

Kevin’s eyes are glassy, but they sharpen as a gutteral noise buzzes through the phone still crushed to Andrew’s ear. It’s followed by gulping, frantic breathes, pained, but evidence, at least, that Neil isn’t dead.

“Is that-?”

Andrew presses the blade against Kevin’s throat. “Where is Neil’s father?”

Kevin goes white. “Prison.”

“Not anymore.” There’s that clicking again, and Andrew’s gut twists on reflex like some kind of fucking pavlovian reflex. This time he knows what to expect, but Kevin doesn’t, and he flinches as Neil’s scream echoes down the phone.

“Baltimore, then. He’s from Baltimore, he-”

“Renee,” Andrew says without looking away from Kevin. She’s right there behind him- he expected no less.

“Andrew.”

“I need a car. Something fast.”

He doesn’t have to turn to see the moment she shifts from Renee to Natalie: he can hear it in her answer. “I’ll be back.”

His brother throws himself into one of the seats as Andrew passes, as though he thinks he’s next on Andrew’s interrogation list. Andrew can’t blame him: he himself isn’t sure what he’s capable of right now, the knife in his hand twitching as though it has a mind of its own.

“Andrew,” Kevin says, “You can’t.”

He flips the knife in the palm of his hand as he hops the last step down from the bus. “Watch me.”

Neil’s voice on the end of the line has turned thin and scratchy like old sheets, garbling what sounds like she’s dead, she’s dead, I swear she’s dead.

“Do we believe him?”

“Might as well be sure.”

A scuffle, and Neil is screaming again. Andrew wants to join him.

Renee roars up to the bus at the same moment Wymack arrives at a brisk jog, presumably summoned by one of the well-meaning idiots hiding on the bus.

“Minyard-!” he yells, then his mouth drops open when he catches sight of Renee behind the wheel of a sleek, obnoxiously orange car. Maybe she stole it from one of their fans. “What in the flying fuck?”

“Andrew,” Nicky pleads, “Whatever’s going on, the police-”

“Half the police are his men,” Kevin says. “And he could buy off the rest if he wanted to.”

“Who?!”

“Nathan Wesninski. Head of the Baltimore crime family.” Kevin’s voice cracks. “Neil’s father.”

“Text Renee his address.” Andrew says, ignoring the reaction of his teammates as he pulls open the car’s passenger door. The glass is missing, due to the riot or Renee’s carjacking it’s hard to say.

The door doesn’t shut behind him when he pulls it, and when he looks up it’s Aaron’s hand blocking the way.

“Andrew.”

Andrew yanks at the door, but it won’t give. Neil is begging now. Begging like Andrew used to, and it’s working as well for Neil as it did for him. Whoever this Lola is, she’s going to die slowly.

“Let go,” Andrew grits through his teeth, not trusting himself to say more.

“What the fuck are you doing, Andrew? Are you going to try and kill a mob boss? You’ll die.”

“So?”

Aaron doesn’t answer, but his grip on the doorframe tightens. “I can’t…” he starts, chokes, starts again. “Don’t leave me.”

Andrew throws himself back out the car with violent speed, grabs Aaron by the collar before he can react. “You arent the only person I made a promise to.” Andrew grinds out through clenched teeth. “I intend to keep them both.”

Aaron’s eyes widen. At last he swallows, lets go of the door, and Andrew snaps it shut behind him before anyone else can intervene. Aaron’s face could be his own reflection, were it not for the absence of glass in the window and the absence of fear on Andrew’s face.

It’s only as they pull away from the stadium that Andrew remembers Neil called their deal off. Just that day. As though he knew.

If he thinks that will stop Andrew- fuck him.

They’re on the road with impressive speed – Andrew thought he was reckless, but Renee’s driving puts his own to shame. Horns blare and brakes screech as they merge onto the highway, but the roar of the engine not quite covering up Neil’s sobs echoing down the line.

Neil is crying. Torture, Andrew has no trouble imagining, but Neil crying…

“Faster,” he says. Renee accelerates.

Even at such alarming speeds, their progress is agonizingly slow. Renee is smart enough not to ask any questions, and Andrew leans away from the howl of air blasting through the broken window. There’s shuffling, the clicking of – handcuffs, he’d recognise that sound anywhere – and then Neil is talking. To pigs, by the sound of it, the shitty kind, the only kind, and he addresses them as though reading their names off their badges, loud and clear for Andrew’s ears. Andrew doesn’t need to make an effort to remember their names, but still he repeats the syllables with a bite that has Renee glancing his way.

“Do you have anything?” Andrew asks.

“A penknife. Nothing worthwhile in a real fight.”

“I’ll give you some of mine.”

Renee nods, fingers flexing around the wheel. If the prospect of death worries her, she doesn’t show it, gaze steady on the road ahead despite the furious roar of the car engine.

The rustle of fabric against fabric, and Andrew is biting back bile as-

“You could almost me my type if you weren’t so young, hmm? You look just like your father.”

Andrew doesn’t hear Neil’s response, his mind whiting out like television static. He doesn’t realise his blade is back in his hand until Renee leans over to bat at his fist. Blood leaks from his palm where his blade sliced it open.

“If you fight me, I’ll cut you off at the knees,” Lola hums in his ear. Andrew drops the knife to the footwell before he can damage himself any further, a swirling montage of horror hazing over him. He knows a viable threat when he hears one.

“Chloroform,” Neil says, then, “I can’t-”

Whatever he’s trying to tell Andrew is cut off, and the phone falls silent save for the faint sound of police sirens.

Andrew drops the phone into the footwell after the knife and punches the dashboard with everything he has. The plastic cracks under his fist, and he’s drawing back to take another swing when Renee slams the breaks, bringing the car to a gut-punching halt. Andrew’s seatbelt cuts into him as car horns blare furiously behind them.

“Keep going,” Andrew barks.

“You won’t be any use to him with a broken fist,” Renee answers, infuriatingly level.

“Keep going,” Andrew says once more, then, when it gets no reaction, “I won’t do it again.” He fishes the phone out from the clutter of magazines and takeout wrappers in the footwell and holds it like a promise.

Andrew thought Neil’s screams were the worst thing he had heard. But, as the following hour proves, his silence is much, much worse.

When the voices return, Andrew can tell by the echo that they’ve moved somewhere different. Tiled walls, if he had to guess, but beyond that, it could be anywhere. Muttered snatches of, where do you want him and dump him anywhere coming through with such dispassion that for a heart-stopping moment he thinks they’re talking about Neil’s corpse. But then the voices move off, and finally, a low, near-unrecognisable voice.

“Andrew.”

“Neil,” Andrew says, as though there’s any chance of Neil hearing him.

“I don’t know… I don’t know if the call connected. I hope it didn’t. I hope you didn’t have to hear…” Neil interrupts himself to hack up what sounds like half a lung. “I couldn’t hold it in. I’m sorry.” The plastic of Andrew’s phone casing cracks under the pressure of his grip. He barely notices Renee taking the exit from the highway.

“I don’t want to die a lie,” He continues, and Andrew has never hated him more for it. Will never hate anything or anyone as much as this for as long as he lives. “My name is Nathaniel Abram Wesninski. And I wasn’t thanking you for the game earlier. I was thanking you for the keys, the trust, the honesty, the kisses. I was thanking you for everything.”

Andrew stares ahead without seeing a thing. “No,” he whispers.

As though by some miracle he heard, the other end of the phone falls silent.

Then a door opens.

“Renee,” Andrew says urgently.

“We’re close.”

“Not close enough.”

“Hello, Junior.” A pause. A thud. A gasp of pain. “I said, hello.”

Neil’s voice – Andrew doesn’t care for Nathaniel, doesn’t care to let Neil slip from his grasp so easily – sounds as broken and terrified as Andrew has ever heard it. “Hello.”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Neil’s father speaks with the same self-assured authority Luthor did, the same cool detatchment as Proust, the same subtle satisfaction as Drake. “Who told you that hiding in plain sight was a viable option? You had to know I would find you eventually.”

I did. The thought comes unbidden to Andrew, settling in his chest like a heartache that will choke him until he dies. Andrew doesn’t believe in regret, but this is as close as he’ll ever come. He didn’t know. He didn’t know Neil’s father was this. He wants to kill Neil for lying to him almost as much as he wants to kill himself for believing him.

“The only question that remains is how I’m going to kill you. I’ve had a couple of years to think it over but now I’m indecisive. I might skin you alive. I might take you apart one inch at a time and cauterize the wounds. I think no matter what I choose we are going to start by slicing the tendons in your legs.”

Metal scrapes against stone. There’s shouts, a clang, scuffling, a thump.

“Maybe we’ll do both,” Neil’s father continues. “Skin you an inch or two at a time and carve the flesh out from underneath. If we do it right, you might last all night.”

Andrew is thrown back to a crisp winter morning on a cold rooftop, surrounded by the smell of cigarette smoke and the icy burn of Neil’s eyes. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way.

And what about the other ten percent of the time?

The answer doesn’t matter anymore. Andrew hit zero long ago.

“No,” Neil says.

“Lola, would you like the pleasure of crippling him?”

“Please,” says Neil. The word nearly stops Andrew’s heart. “Please don’t.” Then, “Andrew-”

And the line goes dead.

And something inside Andrew goes with it.

The phone hits the floor of the car with a distant thunk. Renee’s voice is white noise, syllables devoid of meaning.

“Keep going,” Andrew says.

The house is a hive of flashing lights when they arrive, police cars and ambulances and the flash-bulbs of photographers following the scent of blood. Bodies are being carried out on stretchers under white sheets, and Andrew tears through a police baricade like tissue paper.

Renee buys Andrew enough time to reach the nearest body, and the EMTs stumble back but can’t do anything to stop him without dropping the body. He hauls back a sheet, and his mind goes deadly blank as he sees piercing blue eyes, familiar auburn hair flecked with blood-

“Andrew?”

He turns.

Sitting in the ambulance at the bottom of the driveway, caked in bandages beyond recognition- but he would know that voice anywhere.

Andrew is lost.

Andrew is found.

He flows to Neil like the river to the sea.

“You heard,” Neil whispers. There’s barely a part of him that’s safe to touch, so Andrew settles for the back of his neck, which is sticky with blood but otherwise untouched. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll kill you,” Andrew replies, grip tightning, and Neil smiles, even though it must pain him to do so.

“Couldn’t let anyone else have the pleasure, could you?”

“Neil.” It’s as though every other word has flooded from his head at once.

Neil’s smile, already fragile, looks set to shatter. “My real name-”

“I don’t care.” The officers have made it past Renee, but they aren’t interfearing, which is good, because being arrested for assaulting an officer right now would be deeply inconvenient. And, because Andrew means what he says, he leans down and presses a kiss softer than he believed himself capable of to Neil’s lips.

Neil sucks in a breath, but not from pain, hands coming to rest on Andrew’s shoulders, too heavily bandaged to gain purchase. He pulls Andrew back in, and they kiss through the taste of blood and sweat and tears until there’s nothing left in his world but Neil.

“Neil Abram Josten,” Andrew repeats. It sounds like a prayer answered and a promise fulfilled.

Which it is.

#andreil #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #andrew minyard #neil josten #my fic #check AO3 for content warnings #do people actually find it helpful when i post the whole fic here or does everyone go straight to ao3 #im not a fan bc tumblr doesnt have kudos or hit counters so theres very little feedback #but i dont want to stop if someone relies on it being posted on tumblr #oh god its 2:40 am

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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 4 years ago

Note

So, you get got writers block eh? How about Toshi being absolutely smitten with the new teacher at UA and has been in love with her stern, hardcore attitude? And then he forces her into dancing with him while he serenades her (or them whatever is fine w/you) and then they date. This lives quite rent free in my head and I'm bad at writing sooo.... Here, it's your problem now.

Coming riggghtttt up!

Violet Enigma

Toshinori Yagi x F! Teacher! Reader

Warnings: mentions of chronic illness (very very subtle), and that’s really it

Not many things have absolutely stopped All Might in his tracks. No, he's well used to seeing the usual gore and violence, the high stakes, the horrific circumstances. None of them have ever made him pause, not even for a moment.

But when she walked into the office, her heels clicking against the tile, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

She didn't notice, of course. She was much too busy staring straight ahead, cooly.

That was until her eyes caught his. In that moment, time stood totally still. It was almost as if, no, it couldn't be.

Her eyes seemed to flash purple.

But no, he assured himself, it was surely a trick of the light.

He could scarcely blink before her gaze was back to her target and she seemingly forgot all about him.

...

"Hey, uh... Who's that lady?" Toshinori whispered, cradling a cup of tea. Aizawa lazily pressed some buttons on the microwave, heating up last night's pizza.

"What lady? How can I possibly know who you're talking about?" He yawned.

Toshinori flushed at the realization that, in fact, not everyone had her image permanently implanted in their minds.

"You know...the one with the... hair? And the, uh...the new one?"

Aizawa sighed, thinking for a moment.

" I think that's y/n," he replied, plopping himself down next to his coworker.

"Thanks," muttered Toshinori. Just as he took a sip of his tea, an unfamiliar voice filled his ears.

"What's got you so curious about me, sir?" The woman asked. She was carrying a clipboard, scribbling something.

The blond had nothing to say. He was so shocked by her presence that he could just stare for a moment.

She sighed, biting the tip of her pen.

"Do you know where room number 512 is?" She asked, not even looking up from her work. Toshinori sighed in relief of her changing the subject.

"Its upstairs and to the right."

"Thank you, Mister...?"

"Toshinori. Or Yagi. Or...um...well, nevermind. Aren't you going to eat something?"

"I will. Just not right now. I've got a lot to get done, Mr. 'Nevermind.' "

And like that, she was gone.

...

The following day, Ms. Y/N entered the office once again, her pristine outfit looking as fresh as a pressed uniform.

She paused for a moment upon seeing All Might in his muscular form, however.

"I don't believe we've met," she mumbled, "You may refer to me as Ms. Y/N. And yourself?"

He subconsciously looked down.

"I'm All Might. Haven't you... seen me before?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I can't say I have. I don't watch television. What's your real name?" She asked skeptically. For a moment, it almost looked like her eyes flashed again.

"Well, uh, you see-".

"It's fine. Do you know when the next meeting is being held, Mr... Sir?"

.....

At lunch, she was no where to be seen, as always.

Usually, Yagi would make himself comfortable in the staff room with a cup of tea and a book.

Today, though, he'd decided to find her.

He aimlessly wandered the now empty halls, passing rooms where classes were being held, the ever noisy lunchroom, peeking into each open door in an attempt to spot her.

Miss Enigma. That's what she goes by as a pro hero. But, she's not the type of hero you'd see get the credit. She'd much rather work alongside a group, blending into the background, and staying subtle.

He found that name quite fitting for her, though.

Especially because he didn't even know what her damn quirk was. No one did.

Finally, he reached the computer lab all the way at the end of the hall. The lights were off, which would usually signal that no one was in there, but based off of the rapid clicking of keys, someone had definitely snuck in there.

Probably a student. Kids like Shinsou and Deku would usually hide themselves here during lunch, getting their homework done in leiu of eating.

Upon opening the door though, he quickly realized that he was wrong.

It was her.

She jumped, startled terribly by the unwanted interupption. She quickly regained her composure as she turned around.

"What are you doing here, mister?" She asked, her eyebrow raised.

"I can ask you the same," he retorted with a small, semi confident smirk.

She sighed.

"Why does it concern you?"

Toshinori's face grew pink, embarassment growing in his chest, suffocating him.

"Uh, I...um, I j-just-"

"I'm busy. You may speak to me later," she stated, spinning around to face the screen once again. Yagi stood there for a moment in shock before closing the door and doing as she wished: leaving her alone.

He did not look for her, though. Her merciless tone was enough to slice him to the bone. He didn't want to hear any more.

It was right after classes ended when he was on his way to his dorm. He passed room 512, Ms. Y/N's class, and as he passed the room, he paused, hearing her scolding a student.

"There was absolutely no reason for you to earn this grade in my class, young man. None. You can do so much better than this."

"B-but, it was a 96," whimpered the boy. He couldn't see exactly who it was, but he could tell by his warbled tone it was Young Midorya.

Isn't a 96 good though?

She sighed.

"It was a silly mistake you made. It could have been 100. Listen, I know the kind of student you are. You're smart. You should be competing with students like Iida, who earned a 102."

She continued to speak, but Toshi had heard enough. He was exhausted as it is, but hearing something so silly as that just exacerbated it.

...

The next morning, a stiff hand squeezed his shoulder as he sipped his coffee.

He looked up, wide eyed, meeting Y/N's steely gaze.

"I didn't see you yesterday. Didn't you wish to speak with me?" She asked.

"Oh, uh...it was nothing, really," he stammered out, looking down. She squinted her eyes.

"That feels like it's not entirely true. Either way, I will be available for a...chat... If that's what you were hoping for, this lunch period. If you'd like," she offered, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Really?" He squeaked, his shyness peaking through. She nodded silently before delicately seating herself at her desk.

It took centuries, but finally, lunch period arrived.

And so did she.

Before Toshinori even had the chance to get up to find her, she was standing at his desk.

"Are you ready?" She asked, holding a lunch bag in each hand.

He nodded. In response, y/n handed him one of the bags.

"You never eat anything. It's not healthy, you know."

He chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, I've survived a lot worse."

"...Like?"

"Well, I'd rather not say. Not...now, at least," he scratched the back of his head, praying that she'd change the subject.

She didn't. Instead, she simply stared blankly at him.

"Where are you taking me, anyways?" He asked. He internally screamed as he waited for her to use that to spark a conversation.

"I don't like being around people. We could go to the library, or my dorm, or your dorm, or anywhere where it can just be you and I."

He nodded.

"L-lets just go to your dorm," he mumbled, realizing his was quite in a state of dissarray at the moment.

She nodded.

The walk was pleasent enough. As pleasent as a near silent walk could be.

One thing about Ms. Enigma is that everything she does, no matter how seemingly miniscule, is done with a sense of urgent purpose. Her eyes are always fixed upon some sort of goal, and each with each breath, she is calculating her next move carefully.

It helped her be an efficient, yet stern teacher, but a hard person to chat with.

Finally, the pair reached her dorm. Number 111.

The door opened to reveal an utterly spotless bed and kitchenette, surrounded by piles and piles of books, scribbled notes, calculators, and empty soda cans. She stepped over the piles gracefully, scarcely looking down, while Toshinori carefully tip toed around every discarded item in order to avoid damaging a single item.

Frankly, he feared what a scolding from her would comprise of for him.

She sat herself onto her bed, cris crossing her legs. He, on the other hand, took his place at the kitchenette.

The silence was unbearable.

“So, um...what did you wanna chat about, Enigma?” he muttered.

Pushing up her glasses with one finger, she replied plainly, “You tell me, Yagi.”

He shrugged.

“Eat,” she ordered.

Captured by her spell, he obeyed her, eating the food she’d prepared. It was a humble little meal, one that she’d surely planned out, and was in a word, delicious.

Thankfully, the silence changed from an uncomfortable one to one that he would be content with curling up and living in for quite a while.

...

After that day, Y/N would always be somewhere near Toshinori during lunch period. Whether it be in the same room, or right next to him, she was there.

She usually was hard at work or silently eating. That didn’t mean, though, that she wouldn’t urge him to eat something. He’d find small lunches made up for him at his desk on days where she wasn’t there, and on days she was, she’d silently pause every once in awhile to glare at him if he hadn’t eaten.

Despite that seemingly caring action, though, she didn’t seem at all interested in the blond. He didn’t attempt to flirt, or anything that could possibly elicit a raised eyebrow, but that was simply because he felt as if he couldn’t.

What if she rejected him?

I mean, she works right across from him. They see eachother every single day.

It’d be hell.

But...

What if she didn’t?

...

“Alright, we need a couple chaperones for the spring semester dance. Who’s up for it?” Aizawa asked boredly. Miss Midnight and Present Mic raised their hands excitedly.

“Alright, I’ve got you both down. I need two more.”

“I’ll do it,” offered Y/N. The entire conference room grew quiet for a moment.

“You do realize that you can’t give out detention slips at a dance, right?” Hizashi scoffed.

“I am aware of that, sir. Are you aware of the existance of an ‘inside voice’?” she gritted with condecention seeping through her teeth.

He put his hands up, indicating that she’d won that particular battle.

“I’m free on that night, too,” Toshinori added. His comment broke through the thick silence that had fell onto the room.

“Thank you, A- ahem, Toshinori,” Aizawa nodded, penning the final name down.

After the meeting, Y/N was the final one to leave, alongside Toshinori.

“You know, there’s gonna be a lot of people there on that dance,” he whispered.

“I know. Maybe I’d like that. You seem like you do,” she replied, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of her lips. No one else would’ve noticed it, but after spending so many monotone days with her, he recognized the new expression instantly.

“I don’t, particularly. But...”

“But?”

“Nothing. It’s...nothing.”

“If you say so, Mister. I’ll see you then,” she allowed herself to smile as she once again, left him in silence.

...

That week passed by without much issue. There was the usual ruckus coming from class 1-A, but nothing too serious.

The night had arrived. Just outside his dorm, he could hear the clamour of excited chatter coming from students on their way to the gymnasium.

He sighed, tying a red tye around his neck, a nice contrast against his suit.

He hadn't exactly planned on dressing like this, but upon realizing that he didn't have anything less fancy than this and more fancy than what he usually wore to work, he settled on being a little extraordinary.

As soon as he exited the dorm and was greeted with the wave of students pushing past each other in the halls, he knew he'd made a mistake.

"Oof! Oh, hey, um...?" Midoriya squeaked, pressed against the wall and cramped. He’d caught himself before he called him by his hero name, but his real name slipped his mind at that exact moment.

"Toshinori. What is it, my boy?" He smiled, ruffling the boy's messy hair.

"Uh, I dunno, I don't usually do stuff like this. Are... Why are you wearing that? Isn't it a little fancy?"

Toshinori blushed instantly.

"Oh my God. Who is it?" Izuku squealed excitedly, cursing himself for forgetting a pen to take some notes.

"Geez, kid, keep it down a little, won'tcha? It-she-"

"She?!"

"Single file line or none of you will be attending tonight's dance," stated a voice that ascended effortlessly above the crowd's noisiness.

Instantly, everyone calmed down and began to form a line, neatly making their way to the gym.

Toshinori closed his door as he whisked the boy away, urging him to go have a good time, and to 'enjoy being young while you can.'

It was merely seconds after he was standing alone, against the wall, waiting for the crowd to die down as he noticed her.

Y/N had been standing there for quite a few minutes, in the same position as he, and just about 4 feet away.

It was hard for him to believe that he'd missed her. The dress she'd worn was absolutely more extravagant than any gown he'd seen in an event like this. It was sparkly and red, reflecting every ounce of light that hit it from all directions. It accentuated her body beautifully and perfectly fit.

In short, she was stunning.

"My, my. You sure do look nice today," she grinned.

He nodded dumbly. He was just about as red as the dress she was wearing.

Finally, it was time for them to make their ways to the dance.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked.

"I hope so," he replied, toying with his tie.

...

Music boomed in Y/N's and Toshinori's ears, accompanied by dealing with the antics of goofball teenagers and breaking up silly fights.

Once things began to calm down quite a bit, Y/N approached Toshinori, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaning in close to his ear.

"Meet me on the rooftop," she whispered before dissapearing into the crowd.

So, he did.

She sat near the edge, staring into the inky violet sky.

Toshinori took his place next to her, handing her a much needed bottle of water.

She thanked him before turning to him with a deep sigh.

"There's something I'd like to tell you," she mumbled. For the first time, she actually looked nervous.

Taking a sip of the water, she continued, "You know, I never really do things like this. You've probably gathered that by...my nature. But, I must admit, you are one person I can't seem to get off of my mind. And, well, frankly...I like you, Toshinori. To quite a degree."

He blinked, slack jawed, shaking his head.

“How could someone like you like someone like me?

“Good question. I like you because you're...well, I suppose I don't really know. You're just you, and that's what I like about you. Plus, I know you’ve done so much for so many people. Why dont you like you?”

He paused, his heart absolutely seizing at that for more than one reason.

"Oh! I suppose I should tell you about my quirk. But...I expect full confidentiality from you. Essentially, I can find out one's secrets by looking at them. Surely, you've seen me activate it before."

He nodded, covering his mouth.

"W-what do you...know?"

"Don't worry, not much. I respect you too much to dig that deep. All I know is that, in some point of your life, you were probably some type of hero. All I know, is that in your life time, you've saved many lives, and touched countless others. As to why you'd want that to be a secret, I have no idea. But, I do find it interesting," she explained.

"What do you do with the secrets you know, then?" He asked, his voice still pinched with fear that his secret could be compromised.

"With yours? Nothing. I have no friends to share it with, and not enough details or desire to post about it online. Frankly, I don't give a damn about who you used to be. I care about who you are. Your secret will always be safe with me."

He sighed deeply. It wasn’t as if no one was aware of his secret; plenty of people knew. But the more people who did, the higher at risk the school, as well as the students and staff, were placed at.

Plenty of people,too, wanted him dead. Even being retired, he is still considered a threat to villians across the globe, thanks to his notorious acts of heroism throughout the decades. With him in his sickly, weakened state, he’d be easy to assasinate, and the people who would go that far wouldn’t be opposed to taking others down with him.

He...couldn’t have that.

So, before Y/N was scheduled to begin work, it was decided that she’d be left in the dark about his identity, as well as any newcoming staff from thenon out. It’d be safer that way.

Her eyes dreamily stared off into the infinate stars as she silently pondered on what to say next.

“Would you like to know the rest?” he asked. His voice shook a little, causing her to look at him.

She nodded.

“I’m All Might.” “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!” giggles y/n, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m pathetic,” he sighes. He rubbed his forehead, looking away ashamedly.

“No, no! I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier! I mean, you guys do look pretty similar.”

He shrugs.

“I’m serious! Plus, I mean, it’s kind of obvious now that you mention it. I mean, I guess you guys do wear the same clohtes to work everyday, and I haven’t seen you two in the same room before, so yeah, I can definiately see it,” she paused, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks bright red.

“God, I’ve probably said ‘Good morning’ to you and...er...you, twice every day. Why’d you let me do that like a fool?!” she teased, play punching him in the arm.

He laughed, absolutely relieved that she didn’t ridicule him for how he’d taken care of his body for the past few years. It seemed that her attitude had completely changed from the one he’d known for so long, but in a good way.

In a happy way.

She stood up, still smiling, “We need to go back to the dance, Mister. We have a duty, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m well aware. You can almost hear the music all the way up here, can’t you?”

She nodded, walking towards the door to the stairs. He grabbed her by the arm before she could escape, though, and leave him alone with his thoughts and hopes and dreams like she had so many times.

“You... you didn’t get my answer,” he breathed, pulling her in. She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“What exactly- oh!”

The music from downstairs was slow, romantic, and jovial. Perfect for this moment.

He gently took her other hand, guiding her into a dance.

“I-I can’t...I don’t know how to dance, Mr. Yagi,” she mumbled, looking up at him.

“I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead,” he smiled back.

And just like that, the Enigma was gone, leaving just Y/N in her place. She was no longer an Enigma, but rather a glimmer of what he’d never gotten a chance to be: in love.

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alilbihh · 5 years ago

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tomorrow (forever) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: it's only after two of your best friends get married that you and jungkook realize maybe marriage isn't that bad of an idea at all.

words: 2.3k

genre: established relationship!au, fluff, jungkook is just! a fool in love!!

a/n: I just love him ok!!! wanna kiss his nose!!!! and i took way too long to actually finish smth for the bingo. sdjksdgkj. ty for reading

The thing is, you predicted this marriage not too long ago. Or maybe it wasn't long ago at all.

It's one thing to be there when Hoseok and Yoongi are stupidly, densely in love with each other, with exchanging looks and lingering touches and letting them cry on your shoulder because they were in love with their best friend and didn't know what that meant.

It's another thing entirely, though, to be nursing a glass of wine offered to you in a tray and a well dressed waiter, poking at the decidedly uncomfortable dress digging into your side, watching the couples dance and the group of middle aged uncles cheer and the unwilling children skirt around their mother's dresses as they urge them to say hello.

You think you're tired but the buzzing in your ears tells you you're not. Hoseok keeps going around showing off his ring finger and Yoongi keeps kissing his knuckles and Jimin won't stop crying from even before the vows were said and it's all very dramatic and emotional and you can't stop smiling.

Jungkook's probably off somewhere to both charm and gain the favor of unsuspecting grannies, and when you strain your eyes to look sure enough, an older woman with too many rings and kind eyes is leading your boyfriend to a table of fruit slices and punch, probably saying something like eat, eat, you're too skinny, even though he probably has more muscle than actual flesh. You've seen this situation before.

The granny in question is shoving an entire cornucopia in his hands and watching expectantly, and you think you can pinpoint the moment he spots you watching him, eyes lighting up and his smile widening and this little bounce in his step he does when he's excited and can't quite hold it all in. You're so fond you don't think you can hold it all in, either.

He's hurriedly setting down the fruits and bowing respectfully at the granny before rushing towards you, first a walk then a jog then too-long strides that isn't quite considered a run and make him look so ridiculous you can't help but laugh. He's laughing when he reaches you, too.

Jungkook gently takes a hold of your hand, and you set down your glass of wine so he can take hold of the other, swings them around lightly,

"Y/n, hello, hello," he says, grins, clears his throat so he can push down some of the fondness leaking through his tone before finding that he doesn't need to and saying, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

(Which is-- a ridiculous thing to say, really, because-- he's the one who drove you two here, and the first thing he said when he saw you was a mumbled wow and he's complimented you, like, three more times since then, and it's-- a lot. You just love him a lot.)

You pretend to think, hum lowly and say, "Huh, I can't recall. Might want to say it again."

Jungkook grins, never stopped, gently pulls you up, up, mumbles against your forehead, "Well, let me be the first to tell you that you look stunning."

You adjust his tie slightly, brush off his tux, grin something goofy and lopsided. "You look quite dashing yourself, mister Jeon. Very smart."

His hair is a bit disheveled, not quite as put together as it was when he first arrived, and when you squint you think there's a weird stain on his dark suit that's barely visible but still very much there that you're sure he, himself, has no idea of its origins. His eyes are a little wild and he's probably a bit tipsy. He's the prettiest man you've ever seen.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums something teasing, grins teasingly, too, "Will I look more smart if I start doing math problems here and now? Will it arouse you?"

You slap lightly at his chest as he laughs, "Shut up, nerd," you say but it doesn't come out nearly as menacing as you wanted it to. "Did you drink already?"

"Duh. Everyone did." As if on cue, Seokjin waltzes by in all his pink suited glory, hugging a wine bottle to his chest and whining to a nearby uncle about the extreme lack of kitchen utensils in the establishment. Someone should probably go control him.

"Where's Namjoon at a time like this?" You say, seconds before your eyes widen and you continue with a low, "Don't tell me he's drunk? Oh no. Drunk Namjoon is not a good Namjoon."

Jungkook winces, too, probably also recalling that one time Namjoon got drunk, barfed his guts out on a nearby tree, then started aggressively speaking spanish to it, in that order. You didn't know Namjoon knew spanish. Namjoon didn't know he knew spanish.

"It's.. not a good time." Is all Jungkook says.

You're both still standing in a corner by the bar, wrapped up and spewing nonsense to each other, and you think there's something you could say here, something to fill the silence, but this is nice, too. Like there's no need to fill it at all.

He's just started swaying you both to the music completely out of rhythm, something a bit slower than the upbeat song probably chosen by Hoseok, when the song abruptly cuts off, Taehyung tap, tap, tapping at the mic, someone that you think is the dj distantly yelling complaints.

"Alright, time for our dear friend Yoongi to throw the bouquet! Whoever's interested can line up, come, come, come!"

When you look over Jungkook's shoulder you see a very blushy, very displeased Yoongi and a very delighted Hoseok nudging him forward, the shorter man clutching at the blue and white flowers in his hands. Seokjin is cackling hysterically.

"Y/n-ah!" Jungkook gasps, swinging your arms around like a madman, "I wanna catch the bouquet!"

You snort, because of course he does, "Isn't that a lady thing?"

He scoffs, "That's dumb. Since when do I adhere to social norms." He's bouncing in place again, glancing from you to the dance floor and back, where a small group of women have gathered. You laugh.

"Go, go, I'll watch from here," You say and he sprints, and you watch with a laugh because--really, he stands out like a sore thumb, the tallest of them all, a black tux amidst a sea of colorful dresses. Yoongi's standing on a small podium, his back facing them all, preparing to throw the bouquet, and you think you can see everyone holding their breath in anticipation.

The whole situation is so immensely endearing, a small congregation of women with their hands already in the air, Jungkook doing little hops despite being able to easily see over all their heads.

You're so wrapped up in your thoughts, with the idea of what you'll do when Jungkook comes back all pouty and empty handed, that you don't really process when it happens; Jungkook springing into the air, clutching the bouquet to his chest like a lifeline.

He turns, grins victoriously, waving his newly acquired bouquet in the air, says something along the lines of look, look, Y/n-ah, look, I caught it, I caught the bouquet, but your brain just kind of-- short circuits.

Like yes, maybe it's just a bouquet, just a silly tradition for people to think they're meant to get married next, but that's exactly it. Jungkook caught the bouquet. That means he's meant to get married next.

By the time Jungkook reaches you, the thought marriage marriage marriage has kind of already wrapped itself around your head, echoing mercilessly. What if this were your wedding? Would you cry during your vows, like Jungkook most definitely will? What if you two were the ones to decorate the venue, to argue over its color scheme, to taste test wedding cakes until Jungkook tastes sweet sweet sweet. If every time you held hands you'd feel the smooth line of a ring, if you could look down at your ring finger and remember how much you love, love, love.

Jungkook's still looking at you expectantly when you come to.

"Um." You blink. "Congrats."

"See? I told you I could do it." He runs a finger over the petals, brows furrowed, mumbles a low what kind of flower is this, inspecting them seriously, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. And you feel kind of-- overwhelmed, maybe, of this boy, this beautiful boy, and wonder if maybe he feels the same way, maybe he'll want to spend forever with you, too.

Jungkook's still talking when you snap out of it, "...And then I was like, I'm gonna do it, and then hyung was like, don't do it, and then I was like, why can't I do it, and then he said something about it not being a good idea? I was honestly shocked. When do I not have good ideas."

"Preposterous." You say, just to have something to say.

"Absolutely preposterous." He nod nod nods, and you wonder when you both started swaying, the song already something softer and slower.

"I'm gonna," you breathe, "Gonna get a drink, I think."

"Oh! Me too, me too. Let's go," He takes a hold of your hand, which is-- devastating, really. Here you are, trying to escape the thought of marrying your boyfriend with your boyfriend following you. Devastating.

You trail behind as he leads you back to the bar, keeps holding your hand while he orders for you both, tilts his head and says whaddya want, baby? And it's, just. Devastating.

You feel a bit like how you did in your first date, just toeing over the line between friends and lovers, wondering what to do next. Feel a bit lost but not quite, feel comfortable where you are, but at the same time kind of want to be introduced as Jungkook's spouse. And kiss Jungkook's ring. And--

"Hey," Jungkook breathes into your ear, laughs when you jump, "What're you thinking so intently about?"

"About how to get you to never do that again." You stick your tongue out at him. He does the same.

"C'mon, c'mon, tell me," he says, giggling sporadically, shuffles his chair closer to yours. He looks like he wants to keep going but his eyes widen suddenly, something like the beginning of a bad idea in the glint in his eyes, "Hey, hey, I just had an idea."

"Yeah?" You grin, wave the bartender over when you see him with your drinks.

Except when he's about to set your drink down, Jungkook leans in close and--"Let's elope," and you, one: flail your arms, two: choke a little, and three: knock over your drink.

Jungkook's too busy laughing to both acknowledge and explain himself, so you're left to profusely apologize to the very confused bartender and aggressively wipe napkins over the counter. It's a mess.

"Jungkook!" You hiss once the bartender goes away, "You can't just-- why!"

"Because it's fun," he giggles, cheeks tinted rosy gold.

"What just happened?" A voice says suddenly overhead, and when you turn you see an equally confused Hoseok rightfully worried over what's going on at his wedding. This is probably the first time you've seen him away from Yoongi the whole night.

"Y/n just spilled her drink." Jungkook tattles immediately.

"I did not-"

"It just flew everywhere, all over the place. There was an avalanche of it. People were swimming in it, slipping in it, they're considering calling for a nationwide rationing of wine just to make up for—"

"Shut up, I hate you," he grins, and what you say is rendered ineffective when you let your boyfriend pull you close to kiss your temple.

Boyfriend. Because—you're not married. But maybe that's not the worst thing in the world, suddenly.

It's a few hours later, the venue growing more spacious, more empty, when you bring it up again-- Jungkook already beside you, tracing a nonsensical pattern over the back of your hand. You don't think he realizes what he's doing. The thought makes you so endlessly fond.

"Guk?" You mumble. He hums in question, head tilting to give you his full attention.

"Wha'sit, baby?" He drawls.

You breathe. There's some confetti stuck to his hair, and you laugh softly before plucking it out. He just grins and lets you, ducks his head before watching you through his lashes. You run a hand through his hair, then, the gel already having disintegrated into his skull or whatnot, fringe sticking to his forehead. He closes his eyes. Looks so pretty you might just burst.

You let in a breath. Let it out. Count to three. Say-- "That's where we're headed, right?"

It takes a second, then two. Jungkook opens his mouth, as if to say something, closes it. Looks around, and you think you can pinpoint when he realizes you're not talking about home, at least not in the literal sense.

He cracks a smile, lets out the softest laugh. "Oh, baby," he coos, kisses your knuckles once, twice, thrice, lets out the goofiest grin. "Of course, Y/n-ah, my baby. We're in this together, hm?"

(There's hints, later, too-- sometimes he'll be eating cereal and randomly say maybe yellow would be nice for our wedding, sometimes you'll walk past jewelry stores and he'll give you this soft little nudge of presence. Sometimes he'll stare a few seconds too long at your empty ring finger.

You wonder, wonder when he started saying when, when we get married, not if. Wonder when he started being so sure of it, this fiercely sure thing. Wonder when you started agreeing without much thought.

You're not engaged, not quite yet, but your heart kind of-- swells, when you think about it, that one day you will be, maybe not too far from now.

Tomorrow, though-- tomorrow. Right now, you're content as it is. You can figure out forever tomorrow.)

#btsghostie #btsghostiebingo #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic

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yuthoe · 4 years ago

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Day 22: Reunion (MONSTA X: Yoo Kihyun)

TODAY'S LATE PROMPT FOR MTM IS:

Day 22: Fake Dating

ah yes, one of the favorite tropes in fanfic and i did not do it justice at all lmao. truthfully i was really excited about this, but the fic took a left somewhere and grew its own mind or smth. i think the poor writing is a combination of burnout and getting really distracted lmao.

tried to make kihyun the savage guy that he is, but still polite and considerate and i think i did that???? question mark???? please tell me what you thought about this lmao, i've never been to a high school reunion (except for my grandma's) and will never go to one anytime soon.

PAIRING: Yoo Kihyun x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff, mild angst. WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, swearing. WORD COUNT: 1,769.

---

“Act natural,” you say as you smooth down the lapels of your friend’s coat, dust some lint off the shoulders. “Like, just act like normal. We just have to say hi to a few people and then go after an hour or something.”

Kihyun is looking you over as well, straightening out the sleeves of your shirt and making sure your hair is nice and styled and perfect. “I’m taking that as a go signal to tease you in front of everyone then, gotcha.”

You roll your eyes and take his hand, tugging him towards the glass door of the events hall. “Very funny, but you know what? These people might buy it even more, so go ahead.”

He intertwines your fingers as he pushes the door open for you. There’s a smirk on his face that says you’re going to regret what you just said. “If you say so," he says, as you pull him along with you.

Everything is decorated like a senior prom from the early 2000s--balloons everywhere, streamers hung up on the walls, a disco ball suspended in the middle of the room. There's a stage set up at the far wall, and popular tracks from your high school days play softly on the sound system. People are already mingling, table hopping when they see a familiar face.

You go to the small registration booth off to the side, Kihyun in tow, and sign on the space next to your name, walking away quickly to find a table. It's easy to weave through the thin crowd to your spot, and thankfully no one goes up to talk to you as you settle in.

A relieved sigh escapes your lips as you deflate against the seat; Kihyun chuckles at the sight.

"Why are you so nervous? You were so confident when you asked me out,” he says, smirking at your flustered state.

“Hey,” you counter, sitting up straight and pointing at him. There’s a smile of embarrassment threatening to crawl up your face, but you force it down. “This isn’t a date. I didn’t ask you out—I respectfully asked if you could come with me to my high school reunion and pretend we’re dating. There’s a difference.”

He tilts his head and laughs. “Okay, fine, this isn’t a date. But you’re shaking like a hamster, dude. What’s got you so jittery?”

Before you can open your mouth to say something smart, a yell of your name behind you makes you stop. Suddenly a flurry of pink silk ruffles envelops you, cold metal bracelets press against your face and neck, and a tinnitus-inducing squeal is blasted in your ear.

“OMG, I can’t believe you made it!” The offending classmate plops down the seat beside you and… you can’t say you remember her. You know you have a questionable memory, but you can’t recall anyone with a scarily-toothy smile and long acrylic nails. “I was wondering if you were gonna show today, I missed you!”

You smile warily. “Yeah, I thought I’d stop by, just for a bi—,”

“And who is this with you?” she interrupts, gaze fixed on your friend now.

Kihyun still has a polite smile on, eyebrow raised and patiently waiting for you to introduce him. You meet his eyes and take a steadying breath.

“This is, uh. Kihyun. My boyfriend.”

Your batchmate immediately extends a hand out to him. “Hi there! I’m Danhee. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Kihyun grasps her hand and shakes it firmly. “Likewise.”

Danhee (apparently, that’s her name. Still doesn’t ring a bell.) turns back to you, props an elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand. “So what have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much,” you say, twiddling your thumbs under the table. “Work’s keeping me busy, mostly. It’s pretty—,”

“Great! How’d you two meet?” Her eyes are sparkling, in that menacing way you’re familiar with when someone is hunting for gossip. “Probably work, right? I know Y/N isn’t that outgoing so I doubt—,”

“You know what, I’m gonna go get a drink.” You turn to Kihyun, desperate to get away. “You want a drink, Kihyun? Cool, I’ll get you something.” The chair screeches as you push away from the table and make a beeline for the buffet.

The air conditioning helps cool down your flaming face as you leave to get some reprieve from the suffocating air of the table. No matter how much you wrack your brain you can’t seem to remember anyone named Danhee; maybe she was in another class and part of the popular clique, a group you tended to stay away from.

You take a deep breath, surveying the array of finger food and wonder briefly what the main dishes are. The arrangement is no different from the ones you’ve seen at company parties—save maybe for the small picket signs that have slang from your high school days speared into some of the food. Despite looking delicious, you feel nauseous at the thought of taking a bite.

The drinks corner offers coffee, the kind that tries to pass off as Americano but ends up tasting more like candy because people keep putting too much sugar in it. It’s what you and Kihyun call “conference coffee” and shit on for the entirety of the conference you’re attending, even as you keep drinking it because there’s usually no other choice. Water is an option, as well as a fruit punch of some kind. If you’re being honest, you’d really like a beer right now, but you know the alcohol won’t come out until later.

In addition to the mound of paperwork you forced yourself to finish earlier, this week has just been plain exhausting. You’d hoped that coming to the reunion would help you relax, but apparently not.

Ice cubes clink as they go down the tall glasses. The coffee, however sugary it turns out to be, still smells heavenly and wakes you up some. You water both servings down a bit, if only to tamp down the syrupy sweetness.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. Kihyun moves into your line of vision, brows slightly scrunched. “You okay there?”

You don’t answer, thinking of words to say that won’t make you look pathetic in front of your work partner. You’re usually great at explaining and justifying your actions to your superiors, but words fail you this time.

So you just shrug and hand him his drink. “Can’t say for sure.” You take a sip and cringe; your mouth feels like it’s coated in a thick layer of sugar. Kihyun watches you and decides wisely to put his drink down, but pours two glasses of water.

“Do you know her?” he asks, concentrating on the drinks.

“Danhee? Nah. I mostly avoided her type back then. Being around them made me uncomfy.”

“‘Cuz she looks like a part of the Plastics from Mean Girls?”

You scoff. “No,” you say, but smile all the same as you walk back to your table. “Because I was a loner and operated on the mindset of ‘I’m not like other girls’ throughout high school.”

Kihyun laughs loud. “God, I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” You sigh as you sit back down. “Thankfully outgrew that in college, though. Turns out being surrounded with a lot of open-minded people does something to your personality, and,” you open your arms, presenting yourself to Kihyun’s amused smile. “Now you have me, your beloved hardworking partner that throws snark at you everyday.”

If anything, his grin gets wider. Kihyun raises his glass of water, and you toast. “I’m proud of you for becoming so mature.” He takes a drink, making faces like he’s downing whiskey instead of regular water. “Although, apparently not mature enough to just ask me out plain and simple.”

You want to strangle him, you really do.

He’s right, though. Part of the reason why you invited him as your plus one is for moral support and to show people that the wallflower can also nab a man as great as Kihyun. But the other reason is that you’ve wanted to ask Kihyun on a date, but just didn’t know how to without embarrassing yourself.

You sigh and take a swig of your water. “Yeah, well, can you blame me, though? We always keep professional at work and I barely see you outside the building, so I haven’t really gotten a chance to ask.” You’re not lying—Kihyun being here is only possible because you left the building at the same time last week and asked him then before you chickened out.

He tilts his head in assent and takes another sip before crossing his arms on the table to whisper at you. “How about we make this a date, then?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling like you can’t believe he suggested such a ridiculous thing. “What—here? My high school reunion that I only invited you to because I didn’t want to be alone?”

And maybe it’s the trick of the light, but you think you see his eyes go soft. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not ideal, but we’re here anyway. There’s free food, shitty coffee, and some entertainment.” He tilts his head to the stage, and you follow his gaze to where a couple of your batchmates are discussing something, mics in their hands. “Whether it’s the good kind of entertainment or the cringy kind though, we’ll find out soon,” you hear him whisper.

In theory, you have nothing to lose. Nothing really to hide. Perhaps the worst part of the night passed when you had that panicked moment with Danhee earlier, and all that’s left is to enjoy the night. You can still leave in an hour or two like you planned, but now with a higher chance of getting a few drinks afterwards, too.

So you make your decision and look back at him. “All right, Yoo Kihyun,” you say. “You’ve got yourself a date.”

His smile morphs into a smirk, the trademark confident grin making a small shudder run down your spine. You try to keep your composure as he slides a hand to your thigh. “Perfect. Wanna bet you’ll last an hour before you want to leave?” His fingers are massaging your knee, soft hands gentle on the meat of your thigh.

You scoff, grabbing at his hand to make him stop. “Deal. I’ll bet you an hour and a half.”

And before you turn your attention back to the stage, you see his smirk again, excited for the challenge.

#kdiarynet #monsta x #monsta x kihyun #yoo kihyun #monsta x kihyun scenario #monsa x kihyun imagine #kihyun scenrio #kihyun imagine #yoo kihyun scenario #yoo khyun imagine #monsta x scenario #monsta x imagine #fic: mine #fic: not spicy #fic: kihyun #theme: may trope mayhem 2021

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hey-hamlet · 4 years ago

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BNHA AU Ideas : Bad Joke

Also on AO3

TL;DR:

While it would be accurate to call Izuku the son of the two heroes Ms Joke and Eraserhead, it'd be more accurate to call him the collective child of the Mustutafu hero community.

(to see where this idea - loosely - came from and better (and more depressingly) explored, try Gallows Humour by Nuclear_Equipped_Walking_Battle_Tank)

General Prompt: Izuku is the Biological son of Aizawa Shouta and Fukukado Emi. Lets get into it!

So; Izuku is the product of a one night stand very shortly after graduation. They were both mostly trying to get over other people - it didn’t work, at all. Aizawa and Mic have just moved in together, so Emi joins them. It’s honestly some of the best times of their lives, even if its a mess. Nemuri visits so often she may as well be living there and they plot for the future.

Emi and Nemuri start and on again off again thing that never really dies. Aizawa and Mic finally get over themselves and start dating before Izuku is even born, Emi is very proud Aizawa managed to talk about his feelings for once in his life.

Quirkless Izuku for this one.

The four young adults live together until Izuku is around 3, whereupon they get offers to teach at Ketsubutsu and UA respectively. Their apartment is too far from both schools, so they make the decision to live in different homes from then on. Everyone cries, even though they see each other on the weekends.

It’s one week at Emi’s, one week at Aizawa’s until Izuku starts preschool. He starts preschool near Emi’s house but after she finds out about Bakugo being a little brat, they look for another. The only one with openings is near Aizawa, so that’s where he goes. Ends up being childhood friends with Tenya and Momo.

The three of them are a collection of very smart, very nice children. They all are, however, too heroic for their tiny child bodies and Izuku and Tenya will try and fight anyone they see being a jerk and Momo has perfected the art of distracting the teachers. They are a team to be feared – even If none of them are tall enough to reach a kitchen sink.

Tenya and Momo are both often at fancy parties and they always bring Izuku so it’s a little team of children in suits and fancy dresses all holding hands while Izuku drags them up to every hero and excitedly asks for an autograph and rambles about their quirks. Basically everyone loves them.

zuku spends so much time at UA and Ketsubutsu he has his own ID card for each school. The staff love him. Aizawa and Emi tried to keep him away from work, but the moment Izuku saw other pro heroes there was no hope, the kid just looks like you’ve given him the whole world and boy are the two of them weak for their little man.

Nezu ends up making Izuku his little apprentice and teaches the kid stuff above his level in subjects that interest him. Hes not crazy ahead of the curve in general subjects but he’s a sharp kid with a good eye for quirks.

In analysis though hes hard to outclass, even as a child. He just as a knack for putting things together, even without doing it intentionally. After a little training from Nezu he becomes impossible to lie to which is a great skill for a hero, but a really aggravating skill for a 5 year old.

“Can I be a hero?” “Sprout, you could probably be a duck if you put your mind to it, I’m pretty sure no one can stop you doing anything.” “I’ve tried.”

Izuku’s personality is pretty similar to canon, but more like current canon than past. He’s socially awkward, can’t handle a crowd unless he’s in a fight or presentation (same vibe tbh) and easily flustered, but he’s more sure of himself and social. Most of his issues with being quirkless come from society at large rather than the people around him.

He also has a sense of humour! It’s much drier than you’d expect from knowing the kid, but he gets it from Aizawa.

Also, his hair is different because no one can stop me from making minor cosmetic changes. Less true green more iridescent black. Neon green eyes too.

Gets One for All, All Might knew Izuku as a child because if you’re a pro and your kid loves All Might more than oxygen, you abuse your connections to arrange a meetup. All Might falls in love with this tiny good boy, and becomes pretty good friends with Mic, Aizawa and Emi in one of the strangest friendships the world has ever seen.

50% of it is everyone, including Izuku, trying to force All Might to take care of himself. The other 50% is them just doing it for him anyway. Izuku has learnt that if he falls asleep on All Might, the man can not make himself move from that spot until Izuku wakes up. He abuses this.

All Might is just the fun uncle who shows up with presents randomly and you let him in because he’s trying his best.

He actually asks permission from Izuku’s parent’s ab giving him One for All, they basically go with “Nothing was going to stop this kid being a hero but fuck will that make life easier”

This AU basically includes Izuku, his two dads, his two mums, his fun uncles All Might and Nighteye, his weird grandpa Gran Torino and his crazy ??? Nezu. It’s the world’s oddest family.

In an act only Aizawa and Izuku could manage, they kinda,,, forget,,, to tell 1A they are related. Shouto still asks if All Might is Izuku’s dad and he loses his shit laughing for so long he gets uncomfortable.

Bakugo is aware, he and Izuku were good friends and kids but had a falling out when Izuku’s quirk didn’t come in. Bakugo just assumes he was a late bloomer and while he doesn’t say sorry because hes a brat, hes about as nice as Bakugo gets. He kinda whispers “isn’t,,, that,, your dad” and Izuku just nods. Bakugo says nothing more because its fucking hilarious.

Literally the moment they work it out is when Ketsubusu comes over to see them in the Provisional License exam. Izuku just turns to Aizawa, deadpan “Goodbye Father, I’m leaving you to live with Mother.” “Back Monday like usual?” Izuku and Joke just start wheezing. The whole class is silent and lost and it’s at that moment Izuku and Aizawa realise they maybe kinda forgot to tell 1A. Izuku is just rolling on the ground laughing ,Aizawa has buried his face in his capture weapon to hide his own snickers and Bakugo is fucking wheezing, leaving poor Tenya and Momo the job of explaining exactly what the fuck is happening.

#bnha au #bad joke au #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #fukukado emi #ms joke #Class 1A

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h2bakugou · 5 years ago

Note

Hi there! I really enjoy your BNHA Headcanons, so may I request headcanons of All Might, Eraserhead, and Present Mic having a detective younger sister bring them lunch or sum at the school? She's low-key a delinquent (like Tanaka Ryūnosuke's sister) and super friendly 😗 Thank you for your hard work! 💞

a/n: hi love! awe tysm! of course!!! i havent wrote for these hotties in a minute dskghjkd

headcanon: their deliquent, detective little sister surpsing them at work

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff

»»————-　★　————-««

yagi toshinori / all might

»»————-　★　————-««

All Might is super surprised when you show up with a visitor tag on your sweater, happy to surprise him with lunch.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asks, a smile on his own lips, it’d been a while since he’d seen you, the both of you being caught up in work, he was happy to see his little sister again.

“I’m baking a cake.” You frowned, sarcasm laced your tone. All Might froze before you broke out laughing.

“I came to surprise you! With lunch!” You hold up the meal you’d grabbed beforehand and eagerly yanked him to sit down.

Class 1-A observed from their tables at the sight.

You were on the shorter side when it came to standing beside your brother, who resembled a tree, in your opinion.

But they couldn’t help but laugh as you teased him, stole bites of his food, and compared your height to his, using the chairs at the table to finally be taller than him.

You followed him back to class despite him urging you not to.

“You still don’t listen to me do you?”

“You don’t look like mom so why should I?” You stuck your tongue out at him. He smiled and ruffled your hair before letting you step into the class.

“Hey, kids! I’m Detective Toshinori, All Might’s super cool younger sister! It’s nice to meet you all!” You hopped up on the podium up at the front of the class and sat on it.

“It’s nice to meet you!” A few voices called out.

“You guys wanna hear some super embarrassing childhood All Might stories?” You smirked deviously, eyeing your older brother who drained of color.

“Yes!” Some people cheered.

“Okay okay, I think-”

“When he was 14, I was 7, so for Halloween that year, he wanted to be a zombie so I asked if I could do his makeup, and our mom being the lovely lady she is, said that he couldn’t take off the makeup I did for him. He walked around that night in sloppy green face paint with pink lipstick.” You pulled out the photo you’d dug up a few nights before and showed it around, earning laughs from most of the students.

“Hey I see now, you’re that detective that’s always causing a stir in those headlines!” A yellow-blonde spoke up.

“Yup! The media hates me!” You laugh.

“You’re like totally badass! Why didn’t you become a hero?” He asks.

“I thought about it for a while, but I’m just not the person for it, I’m happy saving lives through investigations, besides, I think the future’s in pretty good hands with you kids on the front lines.”

The class fell silent at your comment. They’d heard it a few times before, but you were so sincere.

You stayed for a while, and you met a bunch of kids, and eventually, you met a certain green-haired kid your brother had told you about.

“It’s nice to meet you, Deku. All Might’s told me a lot about you.” You shake his hand, his eager smile bright enough to give the sun a run for its money.

“You’ve got a long way to go, but you got this, kid. Don’t let him know I gave you this.” You smirked, giving him another embarrassing photo from your brother’s childhood. Deku cherished it.

»»————-　★　————-««

shota aizawa / eraserhead

»»————-　★　————-««

He’s aware of the presence following him, but he couldn’t be bothered by it. He’s unaware of it being you, he assumed it was just another student.

Until you tackle him when he walks into class.

“Don’t ignore me!” You laugh as you ruffle his hair, the class staring at you in disbelief.

Your resemblance to their teacher is uncanny and they’re confused on who you are.

“Get off of me (Y/n).” Shota grunts, happy to be on the floor, but not happy by you practically laying on him.

“Alright alright. But introduce me to your kids! They look confused.” You stand up and stare at your older brother who’s somewhat thrilled to see you, though he won’t show it.

“This is my younger sister, Detective (Y/n) Aizawa.” The class murmurs among themselves as they look at you, now understanding why you resembled their teacher.

“Woah, you have a sister? She looks just like you!” a pink haired girl smiled at you. You nudged your brother and giggled.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the older sibling.” You tease.

Deciding to stay for lunch, you’re asked a few questions, which you gladly answer, sharing all the embarrassing childhood stories you could before Shota shut you up.

“So why’d you stop by?” Shota finally asks when he’s given a break from the students.

“I felt like seeing you. It’s been a while, we’re both so busy, it’s nice to see you every now and again.”

“How much trouble do you need me to get you out of?” He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“In my defense, those paparazzi were harassing me, I just shoved them into a garbage can! They didn’t even get hurt.” You huffed, shoving a bite of food in your mouth.

“You never cease to amaze me.” Shota chuckles. You smile at the sound of your brother’s laugh.

It’s been a while since you got to hang out with him, so you thought surprising him at school would be nice, it was your day off, the first in a few weeks.

“Could I stick around and watch your kids?” You ask, finishing the food on your plate.

“As long as you don’t show them any more embarrassing photos.”

Yeah that didn’t go so well, they have plenty of pictures of their teacher acting like a hooligan now.

»»————-　★　————-««

hizashi yamada / present mic

»»————-　★　————-««

You cannot tell me that you, as his little sister, is not loud, if not louder, than him. You are both loud individuals.

He’s super surprised to see you, so much so that Aizawa has to cancel his quirk because he’s excited.

Getting caught up on everything you’ve missed from your time apart is one thing, but you two could talk for ages about anything and everything.

Your big brother is pretty chill, but you on the other hand, you’re a bit of a delinquent.

Hizashi is quick to scold you for some of your reckless behavior but he’s not mad at you.

“You did what?!” He yells, his amber eyes staring at you.

“Hey! He was being a smart ass. Of course now the cruiser smells like garbage.” You were a detective and while on a case a villain had crossed your path and said a few comments that you weren't going to let pass.

So you tossed him in the dumpster nearby and then you had to take him down to the station.

“It’s great to see you again.” He smiles.

You’re happy to go around and meet everyone, stopping in Class 1-A and 1-B.

Sharing embarrassing childhood stories about Hizashi is always fun, he’s trying to get you to stop but everyone else is excited to see what Mic looked like when he was young. They’re impressed by how much his hair has grown.

Your favorite childhood memory is when he asked for your help the first time he spiked it up.

The two of you sat coated in hair gel and who knows how many other hair products. Hizashi insisted on doing your hair as well which is why your hair is also spiked in the picture.

Having lunch with him is nice, but you’re sad when you have to part.

“I’ll make sure to stop by more!” You smile while hugging your older brother.

“Yeah!” He cheers, hugging you back.

You wave goodbye to everyone and leave, but not before taking a few pictures with everyone to cherish.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

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dreamingofmilk · 5 years ago

Text

Poetic Justice

This was a joy to write. Shout out to @chaneajoyyy and @shaekingshitup for doing this challenge.

Synopsis: You meet Erik at an open mic night and it changes everything

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 2597

Coming to open mic night at your favorite cafe was worth it. You only just found out about the elusive and secretive gathering of college individuals. But you made it your goal to go at least once a week. Sometimes it was hard, school work piles up quickly when you are having fun.

But tonight, you had to get out no matter how many essays and online homework you needed to complete. And you regretted nothing once he took the stage. Tall dark and handsome, Erik Stevens, the poet had you entranced. His poetic stories about black struggle and black love pushed you further down the rabbit hole than you could ever imagine.

This man seemed to be everything you could ever imagine. And you were so happy to have a seat up close and to the far right of the stage where you could fangirl in peace.

You’d seen this beauty around campus a few times, but never once did you imagine that he had such a way with words and his voice was that smooth. And the way he strummed the guitar… You only hoped he could strum your clit that delicately.

You watched his set intensely, his every move an imprint in your mind. You wanted to record it to play it back later, but you knew that would be wildly inappropriate. Snaps filled the room as he finished up and he smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgment. The man knew he was fine.

Erik Stevens stepped off the stage and packed away his guitar as another talented student took the stage to share her beautiful voice. You watched his broad back shuffle around until he went behind the curtains and came around. The exit for the stage right in front of your high table.

Erik’s eyes watched you closely, you bit your lips gently when his eyes raked over your body with lust. Damn. How can Just one look from this man have you ready to risk it all? You smiled shyly at Erik when you made eye contact again. Erik sent you a wink and a smile so genuine it made your thighs clench. He then quietly made his way through the crowd to join his friends.

You smiled softly to yourself then settled in to enjoy the rest of the night with your friend.

————-

Early morning classes were not your thing. But when one of your major classes is only offered at 8 am on Tuesday’s, you had no choice. Hence why you were in the juice line in your increasingly crowded dining hall. You desperately wanted some freshly juice fruits and were willing to wait in a long line to get it. That or you were looking for any excuse to be late for class.

“Excuse me. Do you know what juices they have today?” A deep voice from behind you asked.

“No but it looks so good. Soo… goood…” your voice trailed off when you turned around to talk to the stranger. Erik again. You smiled a polite smile and turned back forward, your heart racing in your chest. Fuck. He was even more attractive up close and in the light. And he smelled so good too.

Erik smiled and held out his hand for you to shake. You gently put your hand in his.

“I’m Erik.” His voice washed over you. “You were at the show the other night. You look good in blue.” He complimented your dress from the other night.

“Thanks.” You told him your name. “You’re a great artist.” You were up in line to order your juice.

“Thank you babygirl.” His eyes dropped to your lips before flitting back up to meet your eyes.

“You sitting down to eat? Maybe I could join you?” His voice was hopeful as you stepped up to order.

Your heart sunk. “Erik I really wish I could but I have to get to class, I'm already late enough waiting for this drink. Next time though. I promise.” Instinctually you held out your pinky finger for him to seal in the promise. You blushed and went to remove yourself.

“Wait. A promise is a promise and has to be sealed in some way.” He wraps his pinky finger around yours and brings both your hands up so that you can both kiss your fist. The two of you break away, eyes intense and your heart beating out of your chest.

“Next time.” You smile and step back over to the juice counter.

He smiles as you leaned forward to accept your drink. “Have a good day.” His eyes watched you as you walked past him to the exit of the dining hall, a smirk on his lips as his eyes fell to your ass.

————

Laundry day was one of your faves on campus. Usually you did it so late at night that you had the laundry room to yourself so you would sit on one of the machines, playing games on your phone.

You’d just beaten a really difficult level and you were up out of your seat cheering in circles for yourself.

“Damn, if I knew this is the type of introduction I would get, I would ask you to announce at poetry nights.” Erik smiled at you. You turned around quickly, a heat creeping up your body as you saw him leaning against one of the machines. A smirk sat on his full lips and his arms crossed tightly on his chest.

“Don’t stop now, the only thing I would change is you screaming my name.” Erik’s smirk grew bigger as your ears burned.

“Shut up.” You smiled bashfully and climbed back on top of the washing machine. Erik approached slowly coming to stand in front of your legs.

“What’s got you so excited anyway?” Erik took your phone from his hand and started dying of laughter.

“Candy Crush!” He laughed loudly, you smiled in a daze watching his beautiful smile. “Well I guess I should take it as a win.” He handed you back your phone. “At least it’s not no guy in your phone making you smile like that. I wanna make you smile like that.” Erik stared up at you.

You looked away, he just didn’t know what he was doing to you. Or he did and he was determined to make you become a massive puddle. Well he succeeded at least halfway, there’s a massive puddle in your shorts right now.

“Tell me… what do I have to do to make you smile like that?” Erik’s soft hand found its way on the top of your knee. Very gently, his eyes asking for permission.

You shrugged and nodded at the same time. Erik laughed. “What does that mean?”

It means that you can eat me out on this washing machine! You screamed in your head.

“It means that I don’t know what you have to do.” Erik stepped closer bracing his hands on either side of you.

“You know, I’ve seen you around a lot before. You’re so pretty that I can always pick you out of a crowd. But I never had the courage to speak to you. That is until I saw you at my set.” Erik spoke softly, a small smile found its way onto your lips.

“There we go. Got something. So I just gotta compliment your fine ass and your face will shine brighter than the sun.”

“Erik if you don’t take your poetic ass somewhere. Don’t you have clothes to wash?” You say smartly.

“Nah. I just saw you in here and I had to come speak. You see now that we are friends you ain’t never getting rid of me.” Erik gently rubbed the outside of your thigh. “Besides, you owe me company for a meal.”

You rolled your eyes remembering your pinky promise in the dining hall.

“After your clothes are finished you are coming with me for a midnight meal.” Erik’s eyes twinkled once you agreed and you wondered what his idea of a midnight meal was.

________

You sighed and rubbed your face. Fuck this paper! You figured if you went to the library really early you'd be able to focus and get it done, but you were struggling. Coffee wouldn't even help. You'd been at it for 4 hours and barely had 2 pages finished. It was time to cut your losses and try again later. You were putting your last book in your bag when you heard that all too familiar voice.

"What are you doing here so early Y/N?" Erik looked down at you, a smirk on his face.

Why did you always run into this man? Ever since the open mic night it seemed like you saw him all the time.

You frowned, "I was trying to get a ten page paper done, but I can't focus."

He scoffed, "You took Mandrake didn't you? That's where you fucked up. Everyone knows she assigns a big paper at the beginning of the semester."

You couldn't help the pout that formed on your lips, "I didn't know!"

"Let me help you. I have some work I need to finish too. Maybe we can help each other focus and get out of here sooner." He smiled sympathetically.

He sat down across from you and pulled out his materials. He also pulled out a pair of gold rimmed glasses that made him look sexy as fuck. Who the hell makes glasses look that good?

You couldn't help but be nosy and when he pulled out a book with Freud's name on it. You had to ask.

"Are you a psych major?"

Erik followed your eyes to the book and smiled. "I'm a double major. Psychology and African American Studies."

You whistled "Oh so he's woke and smart."

"I want to be a psychologist for at risk black kids. I went through a lot of shit when I was a kid and it fucked me up for years. I want to prevent that from happening to anyone else." Erik shrugged.

"That's amazing, Erik." And you meant it. What a great way to make an impact on the community. You already really liked Erik, but this took the cake. He really was a great guy.

He shrugged, his embarrassment clear. "I wish there was someone that could have helped me back then. It would have saved me from making a lot of dumb decisions."

You grabbed his hands, "Seriously Erik. That's really cool. You should be proud of it. You're going to do great things."

Erik's thumb rubbed over your hand and he smiled softly before raising your hand to kiss it. "Thank you, babygirl. I really appreciate that."

You felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. You've never felt chemistry like this with a guy, and you had a feeling you never would again. Erik was someone special.

Erik smirked at you. "Now stop ogling me and get moving on that paper."

Your ears burned as you focused on your laptop, his laugh wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You did peep him sneaking glances at you while you both worked though, so you considered it a win regardless.

________

You rushed out of class. The professor held everyone an extra 10 minutes, and you were running late for your next class. Once you got closer to the quad you noticed there was a crowd. You didn't really care what was going on, you didn't have time to see what had everyone so fascinated. You had just got to where the crowd was but you heard the most beautiful music and you couldn't help but move closer to see where it was coming from.

And to your surprise standing there, looking more gorgeous than anyone had the right to, was Erik Stevens. The sun lit his profile perfectly, his brown skin glowing in the light. His fingers glided across the guitar, the music lulling you into a state of peace you've never experienced. You couldn't look away from him. He was so captivating. Before you realized it you moved across the quad and stood in the front of the crowd, but off to the side. Erik closed his eyes and his body began swaying to the music. The notes sounded very familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on where you recognized it from. After a few seconds of strumming Erik opened his mouth and started singing India Arie 'Ready for Love'.

You were absolutely sure your jaw was on the ground. You had no idea he could sing! His voice was beautiful, smooth and rich, like the most expensive Hennessy. He glided through the notes effortlessly, adding a few of his own runs and techniques to make it his own. You believed every word he was saying, his voice was so honest. He really sounded like he was in love with someone and it just made his performance that much better.

Someone next to you walked closer to him and dropped a few bills in his guitar case. As they walked back to their spot Erik opened his eyes, instinctually following them. When his eyes met yours you felt your heart rate pick up and your breath catch in your throat. Erik looked right into your eyes and kept singing, a slight smile on his lips. This man was LETHAL. It felt like he was serenading you. You couldn't help but smile back, you were pretty sure there were actual hearts in your eyes.

I am ready for Y/N

The two of you couldn't look away from each other. You could actually feel a force pulling you to him. The crowd erupted in shocked chatter when he slipped up and sang your name. Erik just smiled and kept going, but you could hardly breathe. You've never heard your name sound so beautiful before. You had a big dopey smile on your face but you couldn't get rid of it if you wanted to.

He strummed the guitar, the notes tapering into silence. As soon as he finished the crowd erupted into loud cheers and applause. As everyone dispersed you made your way over to him.

"That was amazing Erik. I had no idea you could sing."

He smiled softly, "Yeah, it's not something I do often."

"It was beautiful. You really should sing more often." It'd be a shame for him to hide his talent.

He smirked. "Sing more in general or sing to you more?"

You looked away in embarrassment, your ears burning. "Why did you say my name?"

"It was an accident. When I saw you I got nervous and made a freudian slip I guess." He rubbed the back of his neck, his smile sheepish.

You pouted, "So you didn't mean it?"

He smirked, "Of course I meant it. I did say a Freudian slip. You were on my mind so I said your name."

You rolled your eyes, but your tone was teasing. "There's my psychology nerd. I was starting to get worried."

He chuckled and moved in closer, until his chest brushed up against you. He reached out a hand and fixed a piece of your hair before cupping your face. "Be my girl and there's a lot more where that came from."

You smiled, looking into his eyes. "Yes."

His smile was bright. Erik grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you. You may have made a Freudian slip of your own when he sucked your soul out of your mouth.

Taglist: @aislinnsilver @wawakanda-btch @chaneajoyyy @marvelmaree

#quarantine writing challenge #milkyfics #imagine #erik kilmonger fic #erik kilmonger x reader

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