#what about road security huh

[levi-lev]

yes, Sung Hyunjae decided to sit in the middle place of the car just to be closer to Yoojin.

[heavndoll]

saw this tiktok where a girl jumped out of her bf’s moving car because she was losing an argument, and i’m thinking of that with rafe and fem!reader but with a twist to it <3

✿ ⁺ 🎀‧₊˚🩹⋆ ✩

rafe had hauled you into his truck, slamming the passenger door shut. anger was pumping through him, and he hastily got into the driver’s side, pressing on the gas to drive away from the party.

he was mad at you for not only wearing a short dress, but was mad at the fact men were giving you attention because of it. you knew very well that even if other males were to give you attention or flash you a charming smile, they knew better than to ever approach rafe cameron’s girl.

but for some reason, that knowledge didn’t stick to rafe’s own brain.

“my girl is out here, dressing like a fucking slut!” rafe yelled, and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the complete fact he was going 100MPH over the speed limit.

you would be okay with getting in a car accident at this very moment. maybe he would kick in some conscious or decent common sense into his head.

“want me to dress like i’m fuckin’ amish or something, rafe?” you asked, scoffing. “i get you want control or whatever, but my style is up for me to decide. not my fault you’re insecure.”

rafe’s head immediately snapped in your direction, eyes bulking with rage and madness, like a bomb about to go off. “the fuck did you just tell me?” he asked, mindlessly not paying attention the road in front of him.

“said its a not my fault you’re insecure,” you repeated, grinning happily. “a man who knows what he’s secures with doesn’t fucking trip every minute — all you do is worry, and get mad at the attention people give me.”

“i’ll throw you out this fuckin’ car right now,” he threatened, and you shrugged, picking at your acrylic nails. “leave you on the side of the road for someone else to get you.”

“yeah, hopefully it’s topper or cameron,” you said, bored of rafe’s threats. when you date a guy like him for over a year, doesn’t take much to start yawning and getting tired of his bullshit.

“you’re a whore,” he went on, and you hummed, glad to see he at least had his eyes back on the road. “parading yourself around like some tramp. looks like i’m with a fuckin’ pogue or something.”

“said you’ll throw me out of this car, right?” you wondered, taking off your seatbelt, and rafe eyed you for a hast moment. “i’ll just do the job for you,” you unlocked the passenger door, throwing your stilettos and purse out before you could proceed with them.

rafe reflexively pulled you backwards by the back hemming of your strapless dress, his other hand stern on the wheel. “what the fuck is wrong with you!” he shouted, slamming on his brakes in the middle of the road, and put the car in park. he tugged you back into your seat, and grabbed your jaw roughly, forcing eye contact. “some sorta attention seeker, huh baby? just trying to piss me off more.”

“thought i’d stick to your word for you,” you told him, and he panted heavily, his boiled anger coming visible to you. you only smiled, flashing doe eyes at him while batting your lashes. “can you grab my purse and shoes, then? least you can do, rafe.”

he let go of your jaw, staring at you for a moment with thoughts toppling all in his mind on what to do with you. he got out of the truck, went to grab your stuff, and tossed it down on your lap when he returned.

“you’re some fuckin’ surprise, baby,” rafe said, continuing the drive back to tannyhill. “you’re in for it when we get back home.”

[karlachismylife]

Local Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.6

CW: fem!chubby!reader, some tame unwanted attention.

If not for man-made structures, you wouldn’t be able to tell the border between the territory of the natural reserve you got your filming permit for and the sanctuary that cuts off a smaller part of the landscape. Fenced off, it looks just the same – no surprise there, to be honest; sunlit tall grass, sandy and dusty ground and scattered trees, shielding the inhabitants with their shadow. No doubt, they have water sources too – everything in sanctuary’s power to tend to quite simple needs of animals that can’t be let out back into the wild after surviving each their own trauma. Driving past the tall mesh that makes sunbeams ripple when hitting your little Rover caravan, you try covering your eyes to look into the reserve, but no animals come close to the road, hidden securely somewhere deep in their new forever home.

“I hope you’re prepared to be blown away by the luxurious housing, we’re working our asses off to impress city cookies like you here.” With a distinct chuckle, Kir beckons you inside, holding a simple plywood door open for you and dropping your backpack from his shoulder on the porch of the little cabin – a whole line of them drags along a narrow road, animals’ enclosures basically on the other side of the “street”. Land too expensive, government too hesitant to “lose” everything it could provide by leaving it as untouched reserve; thus, someone had to make room for their neighbours, and humans decided to sacrifice their own comfort for the sake of the animals.

“Check this out,” Kir waits until you finish looking around the single room that serves as bedroom, living room, office – even a kitchen, if you can count the tiny portable stove and a kettle on a counter – and with a theatric gesture of a magician opens a narrow door, revealing the tiniest bathroom behind it: a toilet, a small sink hanging off a wall and just a cheap curtain to separate the shower area with a drain in  the floor. “Not bad, huh? No hot tub, but pretty close. Don’t recommend you putting candles and champagne there, though, if you even mange to find those around here somehow…” Laughing with you at the deeply impressed and amazed expression you feigned at the sight of your lavish bathroom, Kir raises a finger calling for your attention once more and then struggles with the sink tap for a moment, finally getting it to sneeze and run clean water. “Actually working plumbing. You feeling like a queen yet?”

“Grandiose, brother,” you snort and come closer to hold a handful under the stream, gathering slightly warm water and using it to wipe sweat from your face and neck. “But no, really, don’t think there’s much more I could need, so this is perfect. You’re my neighbour or what?”

“I’m just three cabins away, door’s always open for you.” Having closed the tap, Kir shuffles his way out of the cramped space and leaves your cabin, hands in his pockets. Remembering something, he turns on his heels and nods at your backpack. “Laundry’s in the main building, there are bags to separate yours, it’s all done together in the mornings so it’s best to leave yours in the evening. Oh, and I’ll ask around about something to get rid of the stink.”

With a dazzling grin and a wink, Kir salutes you and finally turns his back, returning to work and leaving you to sort through your belongings and settle in. If everything goes well, you’ll spend just a few days here before the head of your crew successfully prolongs the filming permit and you head out into the savannah once more. Having this bureaucratic delay doesn’t feel good, but in a weird way you feel relieved.

You don’t think you would be able to leave this place without a heavy heart if the shoot lasted just three weeks like planned initially.

Settling on the top step of your low porch, you pull your backpack closer and hold your breath instinctively, even though a week in the wild has somewhat tamed the stink. It’s not strong per se, but it has a stinging undertone of concentrated boiled soap, to the point where it almost tastes sweet on the back of your mouth roof. Scoffing, you pull your belongings out of it, throwing crinkled plastic bags onto the floor behind you.

Finally reaching the one with dirty laundry inside, you grab it along with the empty backpack itself and make your way all the way to the main building, quick to find the laundry room – just as tiny as everything else. You empty your crumpled laundry into a nice canvas bag and write down the slightly scraped off number on it to know which one to pick up later, and then drop off the backpack in the corner, only just noticing teeth marks on it in several places – a chewed up strap mostly.

Somehow you don’t even doubt it was all Stinky’s doing.

“Adorable bastard,” you grumble under your breath and nearly ram into Kir’s firm chest at the door, too distracted with thoughts of your spotted acquaintance trotting around somewhere in the yellowish grass of the savannah.

“You called?” He laughs watching you roll your eyes and squeezes past you with a pat on your shoulder, a spray bottle of some kind in his hands along with his own laundry. “It’s for your aromatherapy backpack. If you want, you can spray it yourself, I’ll finish my shift sooner and we’ll hit the town. Bet you didn’t get a good look around when you arrived, yeah?”

Only fair for you to deal with your stink problem yourself, Kir already went above and beyond to help you, so you take the spray from his hand and return to the corner to drag your backpack outside, humming in response.

“No, they picked us up pretty quickly… only saw the bus station basically.” You shake the rattling bottle and make a trial spray, high-pressure mist with another harsh, sweet smell – most similar to a mosquito repellent – bursting into the air. The sticker on the can reads as some water- and sweat-repellent for shoes. “Anything interesting to see?”

The spray hisses, covering your backpack in a generous cloud of chemical smell and slight plastic-y glint after it settles. From inside the laundry room Kir raises his voice, admitting that there’s basically nothing except a couple stores and a dingy bar that can be of interest – it’s still worth it, you decide: just fifteen minutes of scootering down a bumpy dirt road and you get to buy something to treat yourself after a week on canned food and maybe even get a drink.

“I’ll come knock on your door then after I finish, then.” Kir leaves the laundry room and catches the spray can you throw him – if your watering eyes and coughing are any indicators, you’ve applied more then enough. Hanging the backpack outside to let it air out the possibly deadly concoction of sweat repellent and hyena sprayings, you finally drag yourself to your cabin.

A cool shower and a little bit of gentle persuasion via banging on the kettle stand until the loose contact clicks and the heating starts, you settle on your porch with your thermos and breathe in deeply. Nothing disturbs you, the feeling of being watched forgotten like it wasn’t even there. Must have really been the savannah getting in your head..

Sun is slowly sliding to the west, still high, but already a bit dimmed and oranged by the incoming dusk. Dry, clear air is rippling and throbbing above the ground, cooling off, weak wind snaking through the dust of the little road. Crickets and cicadas are chirping repetitively, like an ancient ethnic instrument from the good old times when music had more rhythm than melody. From your steps, you can’t make out which direction the call comes from, but somewhere on the sanctuary’s territory roars a buffalo – must be that young bull Kir told you to be careful around.

Two of the sanctuary employees walk past you, dirty gloves and sweaty noses – they smile and nod at you, barely interrupting a lively discussion, something about water going green in one of the biggest water sources. That’s not good, you think, but they don’t look particularly worried. More like confident.

Like they know what they’re doing and why.

Closing your eyes, you take another deep breath and sip your tea, careful not to burn your mouth. Red and pink prints of the vascular system in your eyelids mix with the way you already saw sky go up in flames at sunsets here, a peaceful feeling washing over you. There’s serenity in the way life flows measuredly around here, clocks and calendars slowly growing meaningless in the face of greater time countdown – seasons and solar cycles dictating times to migrate, to hunt, to procreate. People here made the decision to tie their lives to the nature, preserving and studying, and thus their time obeys the same laws, no hectic anxiety of semesters, quarter reports and tight schedules keeping them in a never-ending race.

It’s a blessing – to do the right thing with a reasonable pace, day after day, knowing you have something meaningful to do every time you wake up. In the outside world no one thinks highly of someone digging elbow-deep into the green mud of a small pond antelopes come to drink from, but here it matters.

You’d like to matter.

“Thinking of me with that smile on your face, I hope?” Kir’s cheeky voice drives you out of the meditative headspace and you open your eyes lazily, wrinkling your nose at him – he even made sure to approach you in a way that wouldn’t obstruct the softened sunrays caressing your face.

“Yeah, you wish. We’re going already?” With a grunt, you raise to your feet with his assistance, noticing just how long you must’ve been sitting there, daydreaming. Kir nods and plops a helmet on your head, adjusting the strap under your chin.

“Shopping first, then the bar?” He leads you to the several scooters in sanctuary’s possession, rolling the most new-looking, sandy and just slightly scraped on the wings, on the road and helping you onto it. The machine dips under your combined weight, but Kir doesn’t seem concerned, starting up the engine and driving off the sanctuary territory.

Nearby town can barely pass as one, looking more like a glorified village – small buildings, no higher than three stories, basically a single curved street between them and continuing on to the bigger road. Finally seeing it in the daylight and without the exhaustion of a long trip that kept weighing your eyelids down when you first arrived there on a bus to be picked up by your crew, you find it just as charming – as well as noticing some larger signs of civilization a couple kilometers to the west, tall power transmission poles and antennas around some fenced off facility.

While you try to remember if there was something industrial mentioned when you read about the place you were going to, Kir drags you inside a cramped convenience store, literal mountains of fresh fruits, vegetables and nuts in crates at the entrance and the most random selection of imported goods on the shelves – in a moment of weakness, you pick up some suspiciously looking lime-flavoured crisps and a few cans of cold soda from a fridge that sounds like a fighter aircraft going down from a direct hit, but still manages to keep products inside cool and wet with the condensate.

You leave the store, chewing on some dried fruits Kir helped you choose – even got a discount from a familiar cashier that was happy to inform that they can place orders for some goods if you’re planning to stay longer. Behind your cheerfully polite smile you felt that same wave of belonging that keeps coming back to you.

“We’re a bit late, so all the tables are probably taken, do you mind sitting at the bar?” After you leave your groceries in the scooter trunk, Kir leads you up to the pub, its neon sign already glowing in the slowly approaching darkness, and holds the door open, nodding at the bar counter with just three free stools to your luck.

Keeping in mind that he has “precious cargo” to deliver back, as he calls you, he orders a coke for himself and pays for your cider, promising that it’s one of the things you can actually drink there.

“That’s my favourite, the pear one. When I come here on foot, always grab a bottle or two.” You lean onto the counter, feet dangling above the dirty wooded floor, as you chat with him – he indulges you in the town gossip with some additions from the bartender, making you chuckle as the cider tickles the roof of your mouth. It’s actually good, you admit, and Kir buys you another one before leaving to the bathroom “to see if they have another spider infestation”, which earns him a shoulder slap from the bartender.

When you turn to watch him make way through packed room, you feel your heart stop for a moment, like a prey that finally notices it’s being watched. It’s a fleeting sensation that almost immediately disappears, but you almost hit yourself in the teeth with the bottle neck, once you notice them.

Four men in the furthest corner, staring at you openly – they’re not trying to be discreet, the bearded one saluting you with his whiskey tumbler and two of his buddies flashing you smiles. Friendly smiles, not the ones that make your skin crawl in similar bar encounters back in the big city. Even the one with his face covered by a mask and arms crossed over his bulky chest nods at you and sinks further in his seat, as if it could help him look smaller and less threatening. They seem chill, clearly minding their own business and avoiding the other patrons in that corner, not interested in the rowdy fun of a work day evening among tired people unwinding before heading home.

To fight that initial creeped out feeling, you nod back at them, quickly averting your gaze with a chuckle once you see them light up almost too obviously. Must’ve been ogling you for quite some time, if the smallest acknowledgement gets you such a reaction. It’s kinda sweet, their excitement radiating from the corner, and you watch from the corner of your eye them exchanging a few words before one of them has to force the big guy with a mohawk back into his seat, as if he was already ready to rush through the bar to talk to you.

“I go away for five minutes, and you’re already making eyes at someone?” Your eyes shoot up to see smiling Kir, but as you watch his expression change once he glances over his shoulder at your four watchers, your brows knit together. “Oh, no, cookie, you stay away from that folk, alright? Come on, let’s go, before they come up here.”

Before you even can object, Kir tugs on your elbow insistently, and you have no choice but to grab your almost finished bottle, say a hasty goodbye to the bartender and follow him, stumbling from the sheer force he drags you with, clearly in hurry to get out of the tightly packed bar.

“Hey, can you at least explain? I’m coming, don’t need to drag me, you know,” you try to keep your irritation down. After all, he has done nothing but look out for you, and if there’s anyone you can trust to know all locals, it’s him. Still, you steal a glance at the four-men company and get the unsettling feeling once again, this time not without a reason: the concentrated, slightly frowning looks all four of the men watch you leave with, don’t feel as friendly anymore.

It's only outside, once the night breeze strokes your heated from the alcohol and crowd proximity cheeks, that Kir lets go of your arm and sighs, putting the helmet on you. His voice sounds hushed, and he looks you dead in the eyes, as he says:

“Don’t mess with them, don’t even talk to them, okay? No one wants them here, they’re not locals. The less business we have with them, the better, especially since you’re here just temporarily. I don’t trust them, and you shouldn’t either. Can you promise?”

By the way you look at him, utterly confused, Kir finally realizes how paranoid he sounds and runs a hand over his face, before looking around and leaning to your ear to say even quieter:

“They’ve been roaming around for months already, cookie. They’re military. They’re bad news from the West.”

Suddenly, you realize what that fenced off facility you saw earlier was. A military base.

Just twenty minutes away from the natural reserve.

Part 5 | Part 6.5 | Part 7

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte @danielle143 @llavalada @yukichan67 @sleepisfortheweakpooh @ilxina @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @misscaller06 @etherealinthewoods

[mapis-putellas]

[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]

Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Your date with Alexia ends up lasting the entire day. After getting ice cream -the second activity Alexia had planned- you'd ended up taking a small road trip to the nearest beach just a few miles away. Due to the time of day it was still relatively crowded, but you'd managed to find a small unoccupied area near the water where Alexia had promptly laid out the hoodie she'd brought from the car for you to sit on.

She'd sat herself opposite, cross legged, just like you, with her knees flush against your own. It was kind of perfect honestly, just sitting with her talking about anything and everything. She even teaches you a few more Spanish words, high-fiving you and intertwining her hands with your own whenever you got something right.

Had it been just an excuse to touch you? Maybe? But you certainly hadn't minded.

You'd then spent at least an hour walking hand in hand down the shoreline, comfortable conversation still flowing smoothly between you. It was only when the sun had started to set did you make the joint decision to call it a day, the car ride back feeling a lot quicker than the initial journey there. She'd pulled up outside of your apartment just as the clock strikes nine pm, leaving the car running as she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out. You watch her round the vehicle before reaching to your open door, not hesitating to take the hand she offers you and allowing her to help you out of the car.

You'd stared at one another for a few moments before you had step forward to loop your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug, Alexia responding almost immediately by securing her arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off of your feet.

You cup the back of her head, effectively bringing her with you when she sets you back down and pressing your lips softly against her own. A few murmured assurances about a second date had briefly filled the silence, and then you'd both bid one another a rather reluctant goodbye, you waving her off from your place on the sidewalk.

You had entered your apartment feeling both ecstatic and sad. Ecstatic because this was officially the best date you'd ever been on and sad because it was over. That continues as you get ready for bed, but a text from Alexia sweetly bidding you a good night immediately cheers you up.

Throughout the remainder of the week, you and Alexia text pretty frequently. It's mostly in the evenings when she was free and the conversation was mostly pretty friendly with the occasional i hope to see you soon thrown in. It bums you a little that nothing had been brought up about a second date; especially when you'd asked her to let you know when she was free so you didn't plan something when she was busy. But it could simply be the fact that she had no free time and was waiting for a day to be available. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway, so not to drive yourself insane with the what ifs.

About three days after your first date is when she FaceTimes you for the first time. It was a little after eight at night, so you were in the bathroom getting ready for bed when your phone buzzes softly against the counter. You pick it up, blinking a little in surprise when you see the name on your screen but not hesitating to press accept.

"Hey." You smile, propping her up against the back of the sink as you continue wiping off your makeup.

She was in her car, you think, though it didn't seem as though she was driving. It was slightly dark, but you could make out the fact that she was wearing the same football kit she'd been wearing the day you'd met. Man, she really liked football huh?

"Hola, amor." She greets, reclining her seat back slightly so she could get more comfortable. She props her elbow up on the door, resting her head in her hand. "How has your day been?" She wonders.

You shrug slightly as you wet your face before uncapping your face wash, pouring some out onto your hand and rubbing it onto your skin. "It's been alright," you shrug. "work was long but productive. I ate some dinner and read my book and now I'm getting ready for bed. How was your day?" You quickly rinse off your face before drying it off with a clean towel.

Alexia sighs softly. "My day was good, gracias, amor." She offers you a tentative smile, one you don't hesitate to return. You bend down a little, resting your elbows against the counter and resting your face in your hands. Alexia tilts her head to the side, looking inquisitive as you stare at her.

"What is it?" She whispers after a few silent moments, and you sigh softly as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is it weird to say that I missed you?" You admit a little more bashfully than you would have liked, your cheeks flushing a light shade of red.

Alexia's features soften as she holds her phone a little closer to her face. "No," she shakes her head. "It is not weird. I missed you too. I have been trying to find a free day for our second date but I have been..."

"Busy," you nod, letting out a soft sigh as you pick up your moisturiser. "I know, I understand. I just wanted to tell you."

She nods. "Actually, I call because I have a question...for you."

"Ask away." You assure.

"I have training tomorrow, and I want to ask if...you could, wanted, to go with me?"

"Football training?" You ask, turning off the bathroom light and making your way into your bedroom.

"Sí." Alexia nods.

"You want me to go with you to training?"

"Yes. If you want to. Of course you do not have to, it will be boring, just sitting in the stands but..."

"I'll never turn down an opportunity to see you Alexia. Of course I'll come with you." You were quick to say as you settle against her headboard of your bed, propping your phone up with a pillow in front of you. "Just know I have no idea how any of it works." You warn somewhat seriously.

Alexia laughs. "That is okay. I will explain it to you." She assures.

"You will, huh?" You grin, reaching back to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Your tank top slips up your body at the action, slightly exposing your torso, and you pretend you don't notice the way her eyes not so subtly flicker down to get a look. She clears her throat softly just a few seconds later, a sheepish smile slipping onto her lips when she realises you'd caught her in the act.

"Promesa." She says after a few seconds, and you hum softly as lean back against the headboard of your bed.

"Wait," you abruptly sit back up. "does training count as a second date?"

"Uhhh..." she sends you a guilty smile.

"Alexia! I was supposed to plan the second date!"

*

It was only when Alexia pulls up outside of a large looking stadium the next day do you realise that maybe this whole football thing was a lot more serious than she'd been letting on.

You look around as you exit the car, seeing many others in matching football kits as Alexia grabs a large duffel bag out of the trunk. Some look right at to with a look of confusion on their faces, making you wonder if Alexia really had permission to bring you here after all.

You turn, ready to question her, but Alexia subtly shakes her head as she gestures you towards the entrance of the stadium. Though your confusion deepens, you comply and follow her inside, your eyes widening when you take note of people with cameras and phones filming everyone who passes as Alexia grasps your hand and pulls you out of the way of everyone.

"Alexia, what's going on? You said this was football training-"

"Sí," she cuts you off, squeezing your hand. "It is football training. I...I play for Barça."

"I-okay? I don't know what that means. Why are there people taking pictures? Why are there cameras?" You whisper the last part, not wanting anyone to overhear.

Alexia sighs lightly. "Vale. I...I am Alexia Putellas."

You raise an eyebrow as you lean back against the wall, shoving your hands into your pockets. "I know your name, dummy."

"No," she shakes her head. "I do not know how to explain in English. I do not know the right words. You have your phone, sí?"

You nod, your eyebrows furrowing.

She swallows heavily as she gestures for you to pull it out, and you comply. "Google my name. That will explain and I will answer the questions you have."

"I am so confused." You mutter, unlocking your phone and typing Alexia's name into google. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the results that greet you, lips parting in silent surprise as your body becomes entirely still. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog of bewilderment that had clouded your vision.

Alexia Putellas didn't just like football like you had assumed. She was a famous footballer.

You jump reflexively when you feel her hand gently come to rest on your arm, wincing a little when Alexia rips her hand away a though she'd been scolded.

"I..." you have absolutely no idea what to say.

"I know," Alexia murmurs. "I am sorry, I should have-"

You shake your head, holding a hand up to stop her from talking. She complies, but grows more antsy the longer you remain silent. You swallow heavily as you lock your phone, stuffing it back onto your pocket with a little more force than was maybe necessary.

"You're...famous. You're a famous footballer and you didn't think to tell me before bringing me here?" You didn't sound mad, just...confused, and maybe a little hurt too.

Alexia adjusts her kitbag on her shoulder before softly clearing her throat. "I wanted to," she promises. "but, I did not know how to say it. So I thought-"

"That bringing me here would tell me for you." You cut in, and Alexia visibly winces.

"Sí." She murmurs. "I am sorry."

You sigh lightly. "It's okay. I have...more questions, but you apparently have training and I don't want you to be late."

Alexia nods. "Are you still..."

You nod. "I'll still watch." You say, smiling a little at the breath of relief that slips from Alexia's lips as she tentatively holds out her hand. You take it, feeling the way she squeezes tightly as she leads you outside and towards the stands.

She offers you any of the seats, and you decide on one that was close enough to be able to see what was going on but far enough away where you wouldn't be too easily noticed. The last thing you wanted, or needed, right now, was questions. Questions you had no idea how to answer. You sit down with your bag on the seat next to you, expecting Alexia to head off to training but blinking in surprise when instead she crouches down before you and rests her hands on your knees.

"I am sorry, again," she murmurs, still evidently feeling bad. "I did lot mean to lie to you. I was just-"

"I know," you assure. "Like I said I'm not mad at you. Just confused. But you'll explain everything to me later, right?"

"Sí. Yes. Promesa," Alexia nods, "but I still-"

"Ale." You gently cup her cheeks, trailing the pads of your thumbs over the warm skin. Brown eyes flicker up and meet your own, lips quirking up into a hesitant smile. "we've only known each other a week. Been on one date. It's a big thing, telling someone this. I understand, truly."

Alexia shifts softly as she leans into your touch. "But you seemed upset," she whispers. "You jump when I touch you." 

"Because I wasn't expecting it," you admit with a soft smile. "I didn't flinch because I was upset. I flinched because it genuinely made me jump."

"Oh," Alexia mumbles, "vale. That is good then. I-"

"Alexia!" Someone calls her name.

You both turn your heads, spotting Mapi's familiar face staring right back at you. You wave, genuinely happy to see her again and Mapi grins widely as she returns it before she once again gestures for Alexia to come over.

Alexia nods in acknowledgment before turning back to face you. "I have to go now, you have food yes? And drinks?"

"Sí." You nod, taking the hands on your knees and giving them a soft squeeze. "I have entertainment too. I have a book, my iPad. I'll be fine. Go do what you gotta do."

Alexia nods, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before standing up. She goes to walk away before abruptly stopping and unzipping her bag before rummaging through it, turning back to face you just a few seconds late with a hoodie in her grasp.

You shake your head softly. "Ale, it's hot. I don't nee-”

"Just in case, amor," She folds it up before placing it on your lap. "I do not want you to get cold."

You know full well you wouldn't get cold, but the thought of Alexia worrying that you would and offering you her hoodie fills your stomach with butterflies.

"Okay," you accept. "Thank you."

Alexia nods, sending you one last smile before hurrying down to the large field. She was immediately greeted with Mapi's knowing smile, Alexia rolling her eyes playfully as the rest of her teammates approach her. Someone says something promoting every single pair of eyes down there to meet your own, and you stare wide eyed for a second before bravely bringing your hand up for a cautious wave.

Some wave back. Some smile. One in particular; a brunette with her hair tied back into a ponytail slips away from the group, a wide grin on her face as she makes her way towards you. You wince internally when neither Alexia or Mapi seem to notice, hoping to god your terror wasn't noticeable as she makes it to the seat next to you and sits down.

"Hola," the brunette grins. "Soy Aitana. Eres la novia de Alexia?"

You stare at her blankly.

She frowns. "No hablas español?"

You somehow manage to understand this and promptly shake your head.

"Ahh," she nods before pointing to herself. "I am Aitana." She says slowly, accent thick, before pointing to you. "You are?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Ahh. And you are Alexia's girlfriend, sí?"

"Aitana! Vuelve aquí!" A voice you don't recognise calls out, but Aitana ignores it as she looks at you expectantly.

You swallow heavily before shaking her head. "Um, no. I'm not her girlfriend."

"You are not?" She frowns, and you shake your head again.

"We've only been on one date. This is the second." You explain.

Her frown deepens. "El entrenamiento de fútbol fur su gran idea para una segunda cita? Idiota, Alexia." She grumbles to herself.

You didn't understand the first part of her sentence, but you sure did understand the second. She thought Alexia was an idiot.

"Aitana! Ahora!" Calls that voice again, and Aitana waves them off as she sighs heavily and turns in her seat a little to face you.

"I will talk to her." She reaches her hand out to pat your leg in what you assumed was an action of reassurance, and though you didn't quite know what she planned to talk to Alexia about, you find yourself nodding your head in hopes it'd get her to head back to training before she got you both in trouble.

"Aitana!"

"I am going now, but we will talk later, yes?" She questions as she rises to her feet, and you nod somewhat dumbly as she turns makes her way back down to the field. She skips right over to Alexia who was in the middle of talking to someone, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. The second she has it, she begins talking, waving her hands about animatedly as she gestures from you to the field around you placing her hands on her hips.

Alexia watches on in mild concern and confusion before her eyes flicker over to you. Her eyebrow raises in silent question, and you nod assuringly, not at all affected by Aitana despite how enthusiastic she'd been.

Her other brow raises, almost as though she was asking if you were sure, and you nod again, this time throwing her a double thumbs up for good measure.

Alexia nods, turning back to face Aitana. As she begins to talk, you rummage through the small bag you brought and pull out your iPad. You'd download a few new books this morning that you knew would occupy you for the entirety of the time you were here, and as you select one, you lean back a little in your seat in hopes of getting a little more comfortable.

*

Alexia's training ends up lasting a little over four hours, and you surprisingly manage to keep yourself appropriately occupied for little over three of them. You read your book, play a few games and even make a good dent in the snacks you'd brought. It was part way through the fourth hour that you start becoming a little restless.

In an attempt at distracting yourself, you try and follow along the little scrimmage match that Alexia and her teammates were having, but it ultimately proves ineffective when you have absolutely no idea who was winning or what was even going on.

Eventually, you're forced to stand, shrugging on the hoodie that had been on your lap ever since Alexia had put it there before beginning to pace, subconsciously bringing the sleeve to your face to take in her scent. It smelt just as you remember.

You manage a total of five laps before your name was called, your eye's immediately flickering towards the direction it had come from. It was Alexia. She was stood at the edge of the field, gesturing you over with a smile on her face, and you hesitate for only a second before grabbing your things and making your way down.

She immediately throws an arm over your shoulder the second you were close enough, pressing a rather sweaty kiss to your forehead in which you just about manage to refrain from wiping away. You completely miss the smirk that graces her features at the sight of you in her hoodie.

"They want to meet you. Is that okay?" She murmurs quietly, gesturing to her teammates who were talking amongst themselves just a few feet away. You glance between them and Alexia as you lean slightly into her side, a rather hesitant look on your face. Alexia's facial expression was much the same, almost as though she'd tried to talk them out of it but had ultimately failed to to do.

"You can say no, amor. I will not be mad, and they will not either.” she assures softly, and you let out a quiet exhale through your nose before nodding your head. Getting it over and some with would be the easiest option, right?

"Vale, come on then."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics

[rowretro]

Yandere Sunghoon ex plss

✧warnings: yandere/toxic themes, violence, death, forceful kissing, blood

 ♡synopsis: Park Sunghoon is y/n’s ex boyfriend. People assumed that you were at fault given how seemingly perfect he is, he’s good at everything he does, and he’s extremely handsome who wouldn’t fall for Sunghoon. It was a shame really, you loved him and he loves you too… maybe a little too much…

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1 year of dating and y/n broke it off just like that. It’s only been a week and people have already spread all kinds of rumors as to what could’ve happened. Perhaps Sunghoon realized Y/n wasn’t all that some’d say, maybe y/n herself cheated on him. Whatever the rumor was, it was always putting you in a bad light. If only they knew why you broke up with him, if only they knew Sunghoon for who he truly was.

Not even the law itself cared for Sunghoon’s crimes.Y/n had walked into him hiding one of his crimes very well. Taehyun, who had asked her out quite recently, not even bothered by the fact you were dating Sunghoon at the time, was lying there cold and bloody. Sunghoon, dragging his body into the deep ditch. “This is nothing babe… he had no life anyway, no siblings, neglecting parents, and he was in a street gang…” he simply said as he dumped the somewhat damp soil on the man’s body, the ditch gradually filling up. 

Not even the police cared to take the case, why would they when the Park Sunghoon is the culprit. So she broke up with him. After a tense argument with him Sunghoon left the building to cool off, that’s when she decided it was best to leave. Most of her stuff was already at her old apartment, she simply breached his security system and left leaving a note saying that she’s breaking up with him.

Only been a week since then, just y/n and her thoughts alone in the cozy little apartment. She felt a little fear, wondering if he might kill her, or kidnap her, or do one of the most dark, sinister things she could never be able to think of. A little heartbroken because she loved him and he’s all she could ever ask for. She just wanted to move on though it was easier said than done. Heaving a sigh, y/n made her way to the kitchen, pouring some hot water into a pan, and boiling some ready-made tapioca pearls. 

The girl cleaned up the house a little before adding a little sugar to her now- ready tapioca pearls, using a spoon to dig right into it. As she took a bite out of her little sweet snack, she heard the doorbell suddenly ring, making her flinch. She wasn’t expecting any visitors… Sunghoon on the other hand, was still looking for her while remaining under the radar. Then it hit him, he had the perfect item to bring her back…She was hesitant, her hand on the door handle, a frying pan in the other, she peeked through the small gap as she opened the door. She opened it widely, a smile painting her face when her eyes laid upon the male at her door. “Jay!” she exclaimed as he smiled, hugging her.

“Y/n~ long time no see huh, what brings you back home?” he enquired as Y/n sighed. “I broke up with my boyfriend so I moved back home” she said as Jay nodded.The two conversed for over an hour before leaving the building in his car, the two driving to one of her favorite restaurants. “Jay- isn’t that the road?...” Y/n asked as Jay glanced at her in the mirror “Yeah, but I’m taking you to a different one, it’s way better” Jay reassured as she nodded, trusting his word. Then everything felt familiar… the road, the signs, the tattered billboard sign and that god forsaken house…

“Nice work Park Jongseong…” Sunghoon smirked his dark eyes now on you. How could he fucking betray her?! Park Jongseong? The Jay, your best friend for 5 years lead you back to her boyfriend’s hell. “Anything for you bro… also don’t forget mom’s birthday party” he simply said as he left the building. Of course. How did she miss it? They’re brothers. “Back home?... what is this about some break up sweetheart?... who talked you into it?...” Sunghoon asked as y/n just glared up at him.

“I fucking hate you.” she seethed through gritted teeth as he slapped her “No no silly… you don’t hate me… you love me. You love me like crazy but you just don’t know it yet” he explained in a sickeningly sweet tone that made her stomach feel like it was being squished in the claws of a demon. Sunghoon’s fingers softly threaded through her hair, his finger twirling a few strands of her dark hair.

 “There’s something you need to learn sweetheart… you’re mine. That fucking means you’re stuck with me forever. We WILL date. We WILL get married and we WILL die together. So no we haven’t broken up we never will you FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!!!” he asked, yanking her hair painfully harshly all of a sudden. “Y-yes… I do…” she trailed off, hating every word that left her word. Hearing her words, the male planted his lips on her, forcing his tongue into her mouth, a hand still gripping at her hair as another snaked around her waist. She was stuck with him forever.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Three)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of, stalking, panic attacks, language, violence, character death, tiniest mention of blood

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Now were getting into it! I love me an enemies to lovers story! 😮‍💨

Part One Part Two Part Four

“I-I’m going to stay with you? I don't even know you!” Your cheeks burned as you took a step back. “B-Besides, I don't want to put you out!”

“If you were going to put me out, I wouldn't have suggested it.”

“I-I—!! Satoru!” you turned your head towards your PR manager. “T-This isn't good for publicity, right?”

Much to your horror, your managers looked at each other, sharing that annoying silent communication look. How their eyes communicated told you everything you needed to know. Deep down, you knew you didn't have any other options. The best way to keep your friends and loved ones safe is to stay away.

Which is how you found yourself in a small SUV with your bodyguard. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his navy eyes focused on the road. You swallowed hard, gripping your leggings as you tried to think of something. Even though he assured you weren't imposing, you still felt the lingering anxiety of being a burden.

What was his wife going to say?

He was bringing home some popstar, a girl who had a psychotic stalker. A stalker who was obviously dangerous, and Toji had been kind enough to invite you to stay with him, even when he had seen the damage that your stalker had done.

But in a strange way, you also felt comforted. You hated to impose, but for Toji to tell you to stay with him meant he was confident in his skills to protect you. Maybe Nanako wasn't exaggerating when she told you the Shiu Kong Security Company was the best.

“If you keep biting your lips like that, you'll make it bleed,” Toji spoke up finally, breaking the thick silence.

“Huh?” You prodded the tip of your tongue against your bottom lip, wincing at the sensitive spot you had made raw with your teeth. “I didn't even realize I was doing that.”

“Yeah, you’ve been chewing on your bottom lip like it's jerky since we got in my car.” he snickered, “am I that scary doll?”

Your cheeks felt like fire as you sank lower into your seat. “I don't think you're scary; I’m just nervous.” Which was the truth: staying with a family you didn’t know had your entire body tied in knots.

“You’re nervous?” Toji laughed, leaning back in his seat as he stopped at a red light. “If anyone should be nervous, it’s me. I mean, you heard what your manager told me, right?”

“Oh, I heard.”

The streetlights overhead illuminated his handsome features. His scar stretched out as he laughed softly, and his dark brows knitted in confusion and humor. Seeing him like that made you realize he was quite pretty, especially when he wasn't making broad assumptions about you or barking orders.

“He was very colorful—”

“Yeah, I don't know how he'd take a chuck of your side out.”

A visible shiver rushed over Toji, drawing out a giggle from you. “Yeah, well, good thing I'm not an asshole.”

“Hmm, debatable.”

Toji turned his head, mouth slightly agape as his eyes met yours. His navy eyes glittered with disbelief before a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred lip. You sank back into your seat, biting your bottom lip, not driven by anxiety, but to hold back a laugh from the shock on his face.

“Oh, you suddenly have a voice and an attitude?”

“Hey~ you thought I was a pampered spoiled brat.”

“Yeah, well, you're still a brat.”

You weren't going to argue with him on that because, in a sense, he was right. Instead, you focused your attention on the road. “So,” you swallowed, feeling the need to keep the conversation going instead of wallowing in the silence. “Is uhm—your family isn't going to have an issue with me staying?” The street lights above illuminated the inside of the car as Tojo turned right on a street.

“Nah, my kid won't mind.” Toji glanced from his peripheral vision. He was good at reading body language and how your back straightened, and you quickly looked over at him before turning your attention back to the road, clued him into what you were thinking. “What? Is it that hard to imagine me being a dad?”

“W-What?! No, I-I didn't say that!”

“But your body language did.” Your bottom lip got sucked between your teeth again. “You’re pretty easy to read. Makes my job easy.”

“I am not easy to read.”

“Oh, you are.” Toji grinned, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest. “See, it’s all in the body language.”

Your head shot back in his direction, and Toji could feel your eyes practically burning holes into his skin. “Okay then, Mr. Expert. What am I feeling right now? If you’re so confident in your skills.” The car made another left as Toji pulled into a parking lot in front of an apartment complex.

“You aren't going to like it.” He said in an almost singsong voice as he parked the car.

“I already don’t like this whole situation, so let’s just put the cherry on top of the fucked up sundae that is my life right now.”

The air in the car felt thick as Toji unbuckled his seatbelt, allowing him to turn slightly to eye you thoroughly. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, his shirt straining against his chest as he draped his arm over his seat. As his eyes roamed your body, you could feel the trail they left, like a gentle caress over your skin. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat as you shifted, keeping your arms crossed.

You were beautiful but also very tense. You kept shifting your weight in the seat, and your eyes looked anywhere but at him directly. In a way, it was kind of cute seeing you like this. Where you weren't masking or giving him attitude, he was begging to realize this was some of your natural personality—not some persona you made, apart from playing in front of cameras and an audience. The sharp tongue, stubbornness, and anxiety seem to be the real you.

But he had a feeling he was only grazing the surface of you.

You had gone through so much lately that you probably layered yourself in different coats of wax. Hiding the version of who you were before, you became an Internet sensation. Toji was only seeing the top layer of who you were, and he was given time, he would be able to peel back the first layer of wax to reveal a new color, a new trait of yours. But even if he didn’t know who you were or what you were like before the fame, you were still relatively easy for him to read.

“Okay, you keep crossing your arms; that could be due to several things. It could be that you are uncomfortable, feeling slightly defensive, or insecure. Or it could also mean that you’re subconscious is telling you that yoy need to protect yourself because you have a certain distrust in me, which is fair because you don’t know me.” From the way your eyes widened, Toji knew he was right. “Then there’s the lip.” Promptly, you released your lips from your bottom teeth. “Biting your lip is a nonverbal gesture. And it could mean a couple of things. could be that you have something to say, but you’re preventing yourself from saying it, or it could also mean that you secretly want me and you’re trying to be flirtatious.” You barked a laugh, your eyebrows furrowing together as a faint flush dusted your cheeks. “But I know that it’s because you’re having anxiety; that’s one of the most common reasons. People bite their lips like that. Anxiety, stress, overwhelming emotions.” He leaned back in the driver's seat. “And from the way you’re furrowing your brows at me, which usually means that you’re annoyed in deep conversation or thought I can cross you being flirty with me off my list of options.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead and mark that off several times with a marker.”

Toji shrugged a shoulder as he turned towards the door, opening it. “No skin off my nose; I don't care.” He got out, headed to your side of the car, and opened the door for you.

“Wow, you proved your point; you can read body language. Congratulations.”

“It's all part of the job.”

A job that he was now bringing home. Toji carried your bag for you and led you into the apartment complex. With each step you took, your mind reeled more. What did a pop star tell her brand-new bodyguard’s family? Sorry for imposing on you all; I'll take the couch. Would they be cold? Feeling like you were pitting them out? Or would they be overly fanatic with you, persistently making you feel at home and treating you like a celebrity?

No matter the outcome, one thing was sure: you hated being a burden to others.

Aside from the tests and clinical work, things were easier when you were a nursing student. When you were in school, you didn't have to stress over putting on a face for the cameras, dealing with a stalker, and not worrying about the safety of your loved ones. You would rather take vials of blood from a senile patient rather than have someone destroy your home.

A twinge of pain shot through your lip as you sank your teeth into the raw spot on your lip you had made. Toji watched as your hand shot up, delicate fingers brushing against blood that dribbled to the surface—pulling your hand back to look at the crimson-stained tips of your fingers.

“I told you you were going to bite it so hard it would make it bleed.”

“I know—I just—I hate this.”

Toji’s gaze focused on the numbers blinking as you headed to another floor. “Unfortunately, you don't have many options.” His tone was soft, almost hesitant in a way, one you hadn't been expecting to come from him.

“I just hope your wife isn't too upset.” When the elevator reached the third floor, it dinged before the metal doors slid open. “I'm really sorry for imposing you both.”

“She’s not gonna mind.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure of that?” You question incredulously, following him out of the elevator down the hall. “I’m a stranger. I would have issues letting a stranger with a stalker into my house.”

The tall man didn't say anything as he unlocked the door to one of the apartments. “Trust me, it ain't going to be a problem. This is something she would have supported.”

Toji held the door open, allowing you to step inside first. The television was playing somewhere inside, leaving you feeling awkward as you stood off to the side. Clearing your throat as Toji took his shoes off, you followed his lead, inching close behind him as he yawned, walking through the entryway.

“Megs? Hey, I'm home.” The pitter-patter of feet against the floor had you looking around Toji as a young girl, maybe sixteen, and a small boy hurrying around a corner. “Hey Tsumiki, sorry I’m late.” he reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a wallet. “I’ll pay ya’ dou—”

“Oh no! You're okay, Mr. Fushiguro. I live a few doors down, and Megumi’s a good kid.” The teenager beamed politely as she ruffled the head of the younger boy. “Plus, my mom made us dinner.” Her eyes drifted behind Toji, and she met yours. She tilted her head slightly to the side before you could see the realization hit her like lightning. “O-Oh—wait! Wait! I-Is that?! Are you?!”

Toji hissed through his teeth, pushing you back behind him. “Tsumiki—don’t.” His words went wholly ignored as she screamed.

You couldn't help but smile; seeing your fans react to you was one of your favorite things. Tsumiki jumped up and down, grabbing hold of the little boy who stared at her in confusion and annoyance, which was nearly comical on a young boy's face. But not a lot of six—and seven—year—old boys came to your concerts.

“You're too loud, Tsumiki.”

“I love you! I love your music so much!!”

Without so much as a word, you stepped out from behind Toji, taking your baseball cap off. “Thank you; I appreciate your support.” You opened your arms, but Tsumiki hesitated, looking up at Toji, who just huffed a sigh before nodding and motioning toward you with one hand.

“Go ahead.”

Tsumiki squealed, throwing herself into you and hugging you as tightly as possible. “Oh my god, it's you!! I can't believe it!” She pulled away dark strands of her hair falling in her face. “What are you doing here? And with Mr. Fushiguro on top of that? Are you two dating?!”

Much to your surprise, you and Toji barked a laugh before glaring at each other. “Hello, no.” Your bodyguard remarked with a sneer as he walked towards Megumi, lifting him. “She ain’t my type.” His words didn't sting; if anything, you felt slightly relieved that he thought the same way you did.

“Ditto.”

“Mr Fushiguro, every guy wants to date her!” The wildly enthusiastic Tsumiki shouted, finally breaking away from her hug with you. “Look at her! She's gorgeous! How could she not be your type?!”

“Well, for starters, I don't date my clients, and secondly—”

“He’s married.” You added, winning a surprised look from the younger boy whose navy eyes mirrored his father’s.

“Since when did you get married?”

Toji ruffled the boy's hair, blatantly ignoring his question before focusing on Tsumiki. “Hey, you can't tell anyone about her being here, okay? It’s for her safety, so don't go blabbing off to your mom or your little girlfriends, okay?” You felt some ease settle over you as Tsumili nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Of course! I won’t tell a soul!” her big doe eyes darted back at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. “I know the line of work Megumi’s dad is in, so you’re in good hands.” Her words trailed off as she bit down on her bottom lip, much like you had done throughout the night. “But, uhm—”

It was clear that she wanted to ask you for it, but it was also clear that she wasn't going to ask for it straight out. “Tsumiki, right?” You asked, drawing her attention back to you. “Would you like an autograph? A thank you for keeping my secret?” Her eyes sparked as she nodded her head up and down. “But that doesn't seem fair enough.” you pursed your lips together in faux thought. “How about two backstage passes to my next concert?”

“For real?!”

Toji huffed a sigh, watching to see that mask you had perfected slip on. But it didn't. You were nice but not overly perky and bouncing with energy like you had been at the concert. No, this was just you being genuinely nice to a kid. You were smiling softly, taking in Tsumiki’s reaction, savoring the joy and shock on her face.

It was that look that had Toji in a sort of haze as he walked Tsumiki back to her door. All her excitement was like white noise to him as she hurried inside her apartment, bouncing on her feet as she bid him goodnight. You were something. You couldn't handle being in a car with a stranger you barely knew, but you had no issues giving out backstage concert tickets to a stranger who was a fan.

Toji shook those thoughts out of his mind as he returned to his apartment. He found you standing in the kitchen, looking around. “Do you Need something?” he asked, sitting Megumi down on the counter.

“Oh no, just looking around.”

“Ah, well, I’ll give you a proper tour later. But first,” Megumi groaned as his father's large hand ruffled the top of his head, making his unruly hair even messier. “This is Megumi, my son.”

The little boy puffed his cheeks out, running his hands through his hair as you smiled, introducing yourself. “It's nice to meet you, Megumi. Thanks for letting me stay with you and your family.” Megumi shrugged a shoulder, his cheeks slightly flushed, as he looked up at his dad.

“Yeah, you're welcome.”

“When does your mom get home? I want to thank her properly, too.” A heavy silence fell over the kitchen as Megumi’s features softened his attention, focusing on his father, who rubbed at his neck. “Oh, you haven't told her yet?”

Toji shook his head, lifting Megumi off the counter before placing him down. “Nope, but I'll let her know now; come with me, and I’ll introduce you while I’m at it.” His words were strange, but you followed him to the living room. Toji walked towards a corner and slowly got down on his knees, his eyes focusing on the incense floating up in the air as he reached out, straightening a picture of a beautiful woman with dark hair. “Hey honey, this is our house guest for a while. Do me a favor and don't get all possessive poltergeist on me.” Your bodyguard turned back to you, watching the flush in your cheeks fade as he tilted his head toward the altar. “This is my wife, my late wife.”

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[lazycats-stuff]

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk

Thanks you bye !

Hi anon, I'm well and I hope you are doing okay too. I can do it, no worries.

Summary: (Y/N) gets back into the Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: implications of torture, mind control, mentions of Hydra, Bruce is sad for (Y/N), some violence... And everything else that goes with Hydra and brain washing.

The road to recovery is often a long one. Bruce thought of it when he first saw (Y/N), aka the Winter Soldier. The infamous one, a ghost within the intel community. Many people didn't believe that the Winter Soldier even existed. But the trail of neat and clean murders was the one thing that made Bruce think there is something more.

Of course, the way to get (Y/N) was hell. Hell being and understatement of the decade. Bruce at one thought that he was indeed chasing a Ghost, but something in his mind told him that the Winter Soldier was real. Something in his gut made him chase that ghost.

Months of chasing, fighting and hoping he would be alive by the next encounter, they finally got him. Bruce was lucky to be alive. He hugged all of his kids right then and there. (Y/N) was put into a glass box, strong enough to contain Bane.

(Y/N) refused to back down, refused to retreat. He punched the glass of the cage with his metal arm and some were worried that he would actually brake it. Bruce knew that even if he broke the glass, he had no handler anymore.

His organization has been destroyed. Everyone important was caught. Those who weren't... Well, their time was running out. They may have scattered like rats, but you can bet your ass on anything that the League would find them all. Especially since they didn't burn down their base. One hell of a mistake.

Bruce and the rest searched through the base and they found something that can only be considered as a holy grail when it comes to someone who was brainwashed.

A dark red book, bounded in leather, with all the trigger words written on those pages... Bruce knew that he has hit a jackpot. He looked through them and then has decided to burn it. They also found the footage of (Y/N)'s brainwashing,

The footage, as much as it is damning, making it very easy to persecute anyone they needed, it was also nauseating. (Y/N) was tortured with electricity, memory wiped with electricity... Worse of all, (Y/N) fighting.

It had shaken Bruce to his core and made him triple check the manor security and it has made him check on his sons 5 times that night. He couldn't sleep at all. He refused to sleep that one single evening and night.

And when he stood in front of the glass cage, (Y/N) looked utterly defeated. He was sitting down, looking down at his metal arm and his human arm. He seemed mad beyond belief that he was even caught. Bruce knew he would have to be delicate and gentle with this (Y/N). He had taken the book with him, to try and have some sort of leverage.

And to show him that he was free. (Y/N) was finally free of the mental shackles that they have put on him. Bruce took a chair and sat down near the cell, but far enough to make sure that there was some sort of space.

He couldn't have (Y/N) feel cornered.

He sat down, book in his lap. (Y/N) still looked down, but looked up after a few moments.

" They will come and get me back. " (Y/N) said and Bruce wanted to laugh.

" Hydra is gone. " Bruce simply stated and watched (Y/N)'s reaction.

Nothing. Huh.

" Lies. "

Bruce stayed calm and shook his head. " I'm afraid I'm telling you the truth. The book you see in my hands? The book with your trigger words. Do you really think they would hand it over ever so willingly? " Bruce asked, showing him the dark red leather book.

" You are officially free. " Bruce said as and watched the way (Y/N) reacted.

Bruce nearly broke when he saw hope in (Y/N)'s eyes. He never lost hope.

" I'll never be free... " (Y/N) said quietly, looking at his metal arm. Bruce saw that it was not a nice arms, made with quality. While it looked strong, it wasn't made to be comfortable. And Bruce could see the claw marks at the part where the flesh and metal met.

" That may be true. But you can start healing. You can start working through all of the trauma that they put you through. Mental scars will always be there, but I can help you. " Bruce said softly and (Y/N) was still emotionless and with hope glimmering in his eyes, there was something else too. Bruce could only decipher it as happiness, but he knew that (Y/N) would rather die than admit it.

" I'll be with you the entire way. I have a great friend who can help you unpack everything they put you through. And I can give you a better metal arm, something that wouldn't be so uncomfortable and something that reminds you off the organization. " Bruce said as he looked at (Y/N), holding the book close.

" And what about the book? "(Y/N) asked quietly and Bruce knew exactly what (Y/N) meant.

" It will be destroyed by me. I wanted to show you that the thing keeping you in their grasp is destroyed. Well, will be destroyed. " Bruce said as he put the book down on the chair before moving closer.

" And you can officially start your new life. "

" I'm not sure if I can... " (Y/N) said softly and the defenses were slowly cracking.

" I can assure you, you can. You will have to put some work into it, but it will pay off. I'll be there to help you to start. "

" But the feeling of guilt will never go away, will it? "

" After some time it will. One way is to go through therapy and work it out or you can become a hero. But that only if you want it and after you went through therapy. " Bruce said softly.

" Maybe then I'll atone for it... " (Y/N) said softly.

" One step at the time (Y/N). One step at the time. " Bruce said softly.

And that's exactly what has happened at the time. Bruce made sure to be with (Y/N) before and after the therapy sessions. He made sure (Y/N) knew he had support while he was talking to the Black Canary. And once Black Canary said he could start meeting new people, Bruce slowly started bringing his sons around.

Damian knew exactly how (Y/N) felt. Being in that environment is not easy and it's just the battle of the fittest. And one hell of a battle for your mind. You truly had to be strong enough to make sure to not completely break. Somehow, (Y/N) has kept his humanity, but he had to give a part of his soul to keep it.

Jason just talked to him about stuff and has made sure that he has access to TV shows and movies. (Y/N) needed to be connected to the outside world. And also, Jason has been bringing books for (Y/N) to read. Jason took him his favorites and often took him some classics. (Y/N) appreciated it and liked all the recommendations that Jason has brought to him. It was a nice break.

Tim has always sneaked in some snacks and the two would just talk. It was a hell of a time and since (Y/N) has started school, Tim would help with mathematics and some other subjects. (Y/N) couldn't really go to a public school or any type of school, but he still needs his high school diploma.

And Dick? Dick has been involved in making sure that (Y/N) was getting physical activity. (Y/N) was stiff in Dick's opinion and he wanted to make sure (Y/N) felt good in his body too. Dick did stretches, some tricks and considering that (Y/N) did have some knowledge about gymnastics, it was slightly easier. Not to mention, stretches were something that everyone needs.

About a year after being saved, (Y/N) has moved into the Wayne Manor. It was a nice change of scenery for (Y/N). Beautiful manor, garden, not to mention no noises... And Titus, the Great Dane being an emotional support animal for (Y/N)...

(Y/N) was incredibly happy, but had hard time showing it. Everyone knew but didn't comment on it. They were helping him get adjusted to his new life now and they were more than happy to help. And one thing that made (Y/N) happy out of his mind was the fact that he got a new metal arm. It was black, with red, blue and green accents. It was something to signalized that he was a member of the family.

Bruce was going to adopt him soon enough. Just give him some time and he will do it.

But something happened at the two month mark. Something made him reverse back into the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce was certain that they wiped the triggers from his mind. Not to mention, the boys remembered the trigger words, just in case something like this happened and that they could be careful.

But something must have snapped inside of (Y/N). The boys were careful, but something must have gone awry. Something.

Jason and Dick were the first ones to see it and were the first ones to see it and the brunt end of it. Jason was hurled out the window, while Dick was thrown at the wall like a rag doll. The commotion woke Tim up and Damian was curious as to what was going on.

They were also thrown around the room.

" (Y/N), you are not a Winter Soldier, relax! " Jason said as he made his way through the window, grunting at the pain.

" Please, (Y/N) this is not you! " Dick yelled as he gripped his sides, huffing and panting.

(Y/N), seemingly didn't hear anything and nothing was reaching him. The cold and murderous look in his eyes was more than enough to tell them that they had to subdue him.

Somehow.

Damian jumped on (Y/N)'s shoulders, trying to take his metal arm off. Once they get that off, they are going to be fine. They hope at least.

" (Y/N) come on! Fight it! " Damian raised his voice, trying to make (Y/N) see his senses. (Y/N) didn't listen and threw himself into the wall, back first to throw Damian off and then he threw Damian into the shelves, making him groan in pain.

Bruce walked in from the outside and froze in shock. His adopted sons in various stages of pain and (Y/N) in the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce stayed calm as he glanced over his sons.

They were alive and breathing. That's the important thing right now.

" (Y/N) listen to me. " Bruce said softly as he moved closer, quickly checking on his sons, who were all softly confirming that they were good.

" Look at me. Remember me. It's Bruce. You are safe. The Winter Soldier doesn't control you, you control him. " Bruce said, raising his hands in the air, trying to make sure that he didn't look like threatening.

" You control him, remember that. " Bruce said as he quickly checked on Jason.

(Y/N) looked like he was confused and shook his head. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was getting his bearings together. And once he saw tears falling down his cheeks, he swooped in and hugged his son.

(Y/N) wept as Bruce embraced him and everyone, including Alfred, brought him into a hug. It was a tight hug and Bruce refused to let (Y/N) shatter. And (Y/N) felt safe Bruce's embrace, but by God, guilt was eating him alive.

Apologies were falling from his lips and everyone assured him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault.

[ssahotchnerr]

Hii!! Can you do hotch x reader where hotch is all grumpy and reader is the complete opposite but he is all soft and cute towards the reader

perspectives

wc; 1.2k cw; bau!reader, angst, hurt to comfort, no established relationship but <3

aaron had never been a fan of car rides.

long car rides, to be exact. heading to the bau was never an issue, same with running around town, errands, taking jack to soccer. but a journey more than an hour? nearly unacceptable.

the luxury of traveling via the jet throughout the years definitely didn't help. and while numerous rides exceeded well over that hour time frame, at least that didn't compare to a car ride's length to the destination. that ideology was more manageable, easier to accept. and besides, he wasn't the one who was flying the plane.

so whenever it was necessary to make the trek to the state prison for interviews, about two hours away from quantico, it was displeasing. it was irritating. but it had to be done and complaining wasn't in his vocabulary.

the changing point, however, was you.

the first time you accompanied him, you had newly been added to the unit- still wide-eyed with innocence, not subjected to the horrors just yet, nervous yet excited jitters making you squirm in your seat.

he envied you in that aspect- being able to see the world in a lighter view. so maybe when you asked if you could turn on the radio, he didn't hesitate to comply.

and upon your second ride together, he flicked the radio on as soon as the engine started.

perhaps that gave you the confidence you were waiting for - finding an open, more inviting atmosphere to speak your mind.

"you know, you frown more in the car."

your words surprised him, "what?"

"it's true." you were relaxed in your seat, looking out the window and admiring the scenery passing by. "sometimes i wonder if you can even see past the windshield with how much your eyebrows are drawn over your eyes."

his lips fell into a line, but amusement bubbled within his chest. "i can see perfectly fine."

you laughed, and in that moment, aaron realized just how badly he needed that to grace his ears. "i would hope so. we haven't crashed yet."

aaron chuckled softly, his eyes returning to the road ahead.

"so, car rides huh?" not only was your wit quick, but so was your ability to read him like a book.

he huffed out a breath through his nose. "hate 'em."

"haven't you heard, it's not about the destination, but the journey?"

"our journey leads us to a high security establishment containing the worst of the worst." aaron deadpanned.

"sure." you shrugged, turning back towards the window. "but maybe it's all about perspective."

and maybe you were right.

as time moved forward, you became his frequent passenger. when the opportunity arose to take a drive, anywhere in that matter, you were always the first to volunteer.

it became routine- aaron tuning the radio to your favorite station upon the engine's ignition. his once silent rides were now accompanied by music, small talk followed and ultimately turned into full blown conversations. work related or not.

and suddenly aaron preferred the car to the jet, enjoying your presence and lightness you suddenly indulged him in. you were rather talented in elaborating, your intuition seemingly limitless. the conversations you fabricated were both amusing and constructive, and the two of you could partake in such for hours. you were easy to talk to, kind and open, not the one to be judgmental. and throughout, you looked at him in a way that made him feel so vulnerable it was frightening, but extremely safe. he could open up about the depths of his mind and you would still look at him the same way. in addition, he couldn't remember the last time he actually had the urge to open up. willingly.

sure, he could sit with you on the jet (and notably, he did) and get the same exchange, but he preferred the peace and stillness of just the two of you. you, him, and the open road.

and maybe more importantly, you made him feel like himself again.

-

while it was bound to happen, aaron dreaded when the job would take it's toll on you.

aaron often admired your level-headedness, your ability to remain objective and to not dwell on the darkness as many agents do; the all consuming abyss. your bubbly personality coincided with seeing the good in all things, despite all circumstances.

no wonder you got along so well with garcia.

you maintained your sense of strength, for so long, aaron feared how hard it would hit you; the realization darkness would never cease it's attempts to triumph light. and that same darkness would attempt to overcome you, no matter how much light you offered.

manageable. if he couldn't protect you from the inevitable (although, he would if he could - in less than a heartbeat), he could at least make it manageable.

slowly and surely, your inner sparkle was dimming. and he wouldn't dare allow your light to diminish.

an interview at the virginia reformatory arose, and something about this unsub had riled you up to the extreme- aaron's never seen so much fiery behind your eyes. but despite your hatred, you had insisted on going- your vigor all too similar to one he knew well.

"his guy," you seethed, buckling your seatbelt rather forcefully. "is sick. what he's done-"

"i know."

"they didn't deserve it hotch." aaron nearly flinched at the use of his name, he's gotten used to hearing aaron from you. "why do we have to drive all this way, to get stupid answers from a stupid, vile ass clown who doesn't want to speak to us to begin with? we're going to get nothing out of it. nothing."

"i see you've been hanging around dave too much." aaron commented, hoping to lighten the mood.

but your attitude didn't falter, not like it would've previously. "why do we have to go? driving all the way out there is pointless."

aaron shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "i don't mind the drive."

you snorted a laugh, your comment flying out of your mouth. "since when?"

"since someone," aaron's eyes found yours. "changed my perspective."

"yeah, well," you slouched in your seat, mumbling under your breath. "what do i know."

"a lot more than you give yourself credit for." his answer was simple, true.

"c'mon."

"i'm serious. yeah, this sucks. it's going to be an unpleasant afternoon. but..." he paused for emphasis, bringing a sense of playfulness. "the journey."

another scoff came from you. "and what could possibly come from that."

"you never know." before aaron could overthink himself out of it, his hand reached over the center console, finding yours naturally- as if it were it's rightful place to be. where it belonged.

your hand was just as soft as he expected, somehow more, even. he gave it a squeeze, and it immediately brought a bit of light back into you. your shoulders dropped, warmth returned to your face, looking at him in a sense of awe, almost.

unknowingly to each other, both of you felt it. where aaron's touch met yours, every part of him was aflame.

"the journey." he repeated. "that's the whole point, isn't it? you never know what, or who, will be the outcome."

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

She brushes another kiss to his hidden face and settles against the car door, holding him. She thinks for a moment and decides on something old, a tune she heard on the radio once upon a time and never heard again; she’s warped it, now, no doubt about it, humming it from memory so long it’s changed to whatever she has made it. But Will recognises it from years of lullabies, picking up on the swooping baritones and mumbling the words into her shoulder.

“You know, that Han Solo shrine up in your room makes a lot more sense, now that I think about it.”

The melody dies in his throat.

“Mama.”

“I’m just saying.” She bites back a smirk, swatting away his smacking hands. “There was a point in time I thought it was admiration, you know, but you have a lot of posters of that open vest —”

“Mama!”

She acquiesces, this time, never having seen his poor face so scarlet, trying and failing to keep her laughter to herself. The tear tracks have long since dried and his breathing is steady, now, gangly limbs tucked into her ribs and hanging off the bend of her thigh. Flopped all over her like he used to to when he was young and she was still touring, when the world was too loud and too bright and too mean and she hid him from the sun. Her hands in his hair are to touch instead of soothe.

“Who’s the boy?”

“No.”

“C’mon, babydoll.” She pokes at his ribs, grinning widely when he rolls his eyes to hide his smile. “Tell me.”

“It’s nobody, Ma, gods.”

“Yeah, right. Not like you were comparing having a crush to killing someone in cold blood twenty minutes ago. Clearly it’s somebody.”

He, very pointedly, doesn’t answer.

Unfortunately, he forgets that he gets his stubborn from her.

“Hm. Can’t be anyone I haven’t heard of in a few weeks, or else it wouldn’t be bothering you. What names have you mentioned?”

He looks at her in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Absolutely, she would. Her smile widens.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it ain’t Chiron, ‘cause then I’d have questions —”

“Oh my gods! Stop!”

“— an’ I doubt it’s that security fellow, with the eyes, although if it is no judgement —”

“I’m throwing myself out of this car! Right now! I’m gonna lay on the road ‘til someone hits me!”

“— Lord, you don’t mention many names. You’re a recluse, baby. You gotta make more than two friends.”

She stills. Will, perhaps guessing where she is going, makes a noise of deep, personal agony.

“Oh my stars, is it Cecil?”

“Ew, Ma!”

He strains against her hold but she tightens, hooking her elbow around his shoulders and flexing her other hand, pretending to examine her nails.

“It is, isn’t it? I mean, he is a very handsome young man. And he has a good heart, too, despite the — how to put it — distaste for the law —”

“I just threw up in my mouth! Right now! Stop it!”

“I should probably stop letting him stay in your room when he stays over, huh, that one’s on me —”

He wrenches himself away from her, finally, clambering over the seats and gagging like the mere idea makes him nauseous.

“Ew! Ew! I do not have a thing for Cecil, oh my gods, I might as well marry my cousin! Augh! I’m gonna throw up for real! Why would you even say that, oh my —”

“Alright, alright!” she laughs, kicking his rapidly repeating shoulder. “Holy Jesus, you are dramatic. I should call up camp and tell him you’re out here retchin’ at the mere thought.”

“Good,” Will says darkly, voice muffled from how deeply his head is buried in his hands, “make sure to also tell him he is a weasel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am going to deface his vintage Hot Wheels collection.”

“Y’all have a strange friendship.”

“He’s not my friend, I am stuck with him via circumstance and because he refuses to leave me alone.”

She holds up her hands in surrender, refraining from pointing out the friendship bracelet he is currently wearing with a CM on it and that has not left his wrist in four years.

“Alright, alright. Not Cecil.”

He scoffs in agreement, ignoring her rolled eyes.

She wracks her brain for other boys he’s brought up in their phone calls, aside from people in passing. Mostly he mentions patients, really, answering her endless inquiries — it will never stop astounding her that he baby can practically sew heads back on bodies; she tells people he’s in med school and preens at their wide, impressed eyes — but there are other people he mentions, in between that and the pranks he’s frequently pulling with his friends.

“There was that boy you were so excited to keep around. Nick?”

“His name is Nico,” he corrects, and then immediately goes scarlet. “I — I mean, I have a friend, named Nico, not that —”

Her grin gets sharp as nails.

“He is — unwell! He’s travelled a lot, he needs monitoring so I am — monitoring him, you know, out of concern for his safety —”

“Nico and Wi-ill, sitting in a tree —”

“Oh my gods are you five —”

“You are steaming! I can actually feel the heat pouring off of you right now! You love him, you want to kiss him, you —”

“I am never telling you anything again in my entire life!” he hollers. “Never! Next time I think I should tell you something I’m just gonna — swallow glass!”

She snickers. “Drama queen.”

He sticks out his tongue as she situates herself back in her own seat, turning the keys in the engine. His puts his dirty converse on the dash despite her grouching, reaching over to fight her for control of the radio, flapping his hand excitedly when she lets him win and something bright and overdone starts playing. His bandage stays where it is, tied loosely around his wrist.

“I’m glad you told me, you know.”

He smiles, small and genuine, leaning into the palm she cups around his cheek. The dimple in the centre of his right cheek is back, the scrunch of his freckled nose. She presses a lingering kiss smack dab in the centre of his forehead and he leans into it, trusting.

“I know.”

[ahhnini]

wheel of fortune - frat!rafe x tarot!reader

reader meets the camerons on a family vacation

warnings - cliches, inspired by toz, slow burn, fluff

a/n - i wrote this while delirious off my nausea meds, i fear this is a full look into my delusions

w.c - 2.2k

frat!rafe x tarot!reader masterlist

“you are not bringing that damn cat with us to the trip,” rafe huffs as he shoves his winter clothes in his suitcase. you pout, petting merlin, who was talking a nap on your bed, tiny body curled up. “there’s no one to look after him rafe,” your voice was soft, not wanting to wake him up. “i’ll get a petsitter,” he turns around, his volume now matching yours, “look, I know you wanna see him 24/7, but we’re gonna be traveling. we’re gonna go on a plane, and we’re gonna stay someplace freezing cold. I just don’t want him to be stressed,” he gently strokes the kitten’s black fur.

you nod your head, agreeing with his reasoning, “yeah, that’s fair. this petsitter better be the best one in town, and they better send us photos of merlin every hour,” he chuckles, taking both of your hands into his, “he is, don’t worry. he’s a retired vet, so he knows what he’s doing.” you smile, wrapping your hands around his, “guess I should get packing, huh?”

you shiver in your fluffy coat as you and rafe exit the airport. rafe is carrying your luggage, his long legs trekking through the inch of snow with ease. you, however, are falling quickly behind, running to catch up to your friend. rafe unlocks the door to the rental car, and you hop in, shaking off the fallen snow off your coat. rafe shortly climbs in, turning the ignition and starting the car.

“thank you for letting me go on vacation with you and your family, rafe.” you smile, looking out the window at the snowfall. he takes a glance at you, then back on the road “of course, i’ve told them about you, and they actually encouraged me to invite you. I should be thankful you even said yes,” you freeze, “you told them about me?” “yeah, oh, I didn’t tell them you do tarot stuff—well I told sarah and wheezie…dad and rose…I don’t know their opinion on that so I didn’t bring it up.” you nod your head, “oh, okay, what’d they say?” “they liked it,” he chuckled, “wanted to know if you do walk-ins” “you were a walk-in, so yeah.” you smile.

“this is the cabin?” you gawk, “this is not a cabin, this is a mansion, rafe.” you pull up to the wooden mansion after thirty minutes, and a stop for hot chocolate. “a cabin is just a house made of wood, right?” he smiles, getting out of the car to grab both luggages. quickly, you double check if your hot chocolate is secured, making your way to the back of the car and helping him. “I got it, y/n, there’s stairs going up, I don’t want you to be winded, just hold onto my cocoa.” “oh, okay. you sure?” he carries the both of your luggages with ease, shutting the trunk.

you see three girls on the couch, two watching television and the other on their phone. the younger girl jumps up, hugging rafe. she awkwardly waves to you, before introducing herself, “i’m wheezie,” before shuffling her way back to the couch and fidgeting on her phone again. “i’ll bring these upstairs, just make yourself at home. don’t worry, they do this all time time when i’m around.” a slight frown brushes your face. they…ignore him when he comes home?

unzipping your coat and putting it on the rack, you hesitate, deciding how you should introduce yourself. you clear your throat, introducing yourself with a warm smile.

all three of the girls look at you, introducing themselves. sarah, rose, wheezie, got it.

“so, you’re rafe’s girlfriend?” sarah asks, and your face is laced with confusion. rafe walks down the stairs, face flushed red. “no, sarah!” he replied with urgency, “I meant girlfriend as in girl friend, not girlfriend,” sarah’s face was riddled with unamusement, “huh, by the way you were talking about her, could’ve sworn she was your girlfriend-girlfriend. but, it’s nice to meet you,” she sticks out her hand and you shake it, politely nodding and smiling.

rose on the other hand, looked you up and down, silently judging you. you became self-conscious, fidgeting around with your fingers. “nice to meet you, y/n” her tone was subtly condescending, still welcoming, but condescending. “rafe, ward’s getting some wood for the fireplace, you two feel free to explore, i’m going up to the room,” she says, walking up the stairs to the bedrooms.

rafe turns around, whispering in your ear, “we’ve had a long trip, wanna go upstairs and take a nap?” you nod, following him to the bedrooms.

“I knew you were rich but, this is just on a whole ‘nother level,” you chuckled, sprawling across the king sized bed. “thank you so much for inviting me again,” you smile. “but, are you sure it would be wise sharing the same room? they already think we’re dating.” he shakes his head, stripping off his shirt and climbing into the bed with you, “it’s alright, they don’t care either way, I think they’re just surprised ‘cus i’ve never brought any of my friends on vacations,” he yawns, turning away from you, “‘m tired.” “oh, yeah. nap. goodnight rafe,” you yawn too, before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

you’re woken by the smell of food coming from the kitchen. rafe is still asleep, his head now facing you. you move his bangs out of his face, before softly speaking, “I think dinner’s ready,” you chuckle. he groans, “give me a second.” “okay, i’m gonna go wash my face and fix my hair.” you crawl out of the comfy bed, going to the restroom, washing your face and re-styling your hair. by the time you’re finished, rafe’s stood up, putting his shirt back on.

the smell of pizza becomes stronger, and so does your hunger. you find to see the rest of the cameron family scattered around the dining room and living room, eating pizza and in their own little world.

you introduce yourself to rafe’s dad, ward, who just shakes your hand firmly. rafe grabs you a slice of pizza and you follow him to the loveseat, sitting down next to him.

“wanna go skiing tomorrow?” rafe asks, leaning his head awkwardly on your shoulder. “with your family?” “nah, we all kind of do our own thing on vacations,” your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, and you reply, “i’ve never been skiing before.” you don’t see it, but you can feel his smug smile forming on his face, “i’ll teach you. we’ll go on the easy slopes. but we gotta go bright and early to beat the crowds. it gets packed, especially on the baby slopes—where you’ll be going on.” you lightly shove his head away from your shoulder teasingly, standing up to throw your plate away.

as promised, rafe wakes you up bright and early to hit the slopes. while on the way to the rental center, you dig in your tote bag to pull out one of your seasonal decks. rafe looks over, softly chucking, “those cards are gonna fly out. literally.” you shuffle the cards over your hands, concentrating, “i’m using a different method to shuffle this time, rafe. speaking of which, I just pulled out your daily card.” “oh yeah? what is it?” “wheel of fortune, upright. change, cycle…inevitable fate,” his eyebrows furrow, and your eyes widen, “the cards are just advising you to take the day as is, nothing to worry about, this is all supposed to happen.” you smile, shuffling for your daily card, “I got…ace of wands! creation, willpower, desire, and inspiration!”

“i’ve always been meaning to ask this, but why do you pull a daily tarot card?” rafe asks he pulls into the rental shop. “like how some people look at their daily horoscope, it’s just to help give some advice for the day ahead.” he hums, parking the car. he turns off the ignition but stays there, looking at you, “so, what’s the difference between an oracle and a tarot deck?” “well, a tarot deck has always remained 78 cards, their meanings remained the same, as well as the spreads. but with oracle, the cards are a lot more…flexible? each deck isn’t the same and they can follow a multitude of themes. in some of my readings, if the tarot cards keep giving me confusing answers, I use my oracle deck to ask for clarification. why do you ask?” “nothin,” he shrugs, “jus’ saw that you put some oracle decks up on your inventory at the shop.” you hum, nodding. you breathe out, seeing your breath, “we should go in before the car frosts over.”

after you got fitted for your snowsuit, you and rafe made your way over to the slopes. there were a couple of people already there, sledding and skiing. you follow rafe to the top of the hill, already being intimidated by the curve. “it’s not that bad,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “listen, I know it’s scary, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way, yeah?” you nod, putting your snow goggles on while rafe bent down and helped you put your skis on your shoes. “how do you walk in these things? I feel like a penguin.” he chuckles. “keep your legs apart, and use the sticks to gain traction. to ‘brake’ when going down, turn to the side, your skis will follow. also, bend your knees. got that?” you nod, nervousness creeping into your body. “you got this, okay? i’ll go first. look at my technique, try to copy.” he goes down the hill with ease, but he’s too quick for you to actually observe anything.

rafe turns around, gesturing for you to follow. you take a deep breath, remember his words and go down. the speed is too fast, wind rushes through your hair. everything is a blur, until you feel a pair of hands grab you, but the force is too much. landing on top of rafe, you open your eyes, and he just blinks at you. “hey, hey. you okay?” you nod, rolling off of him and into the soft snow. he helps you up, and you sigh, “I don’t think i’m cut out for this, rafe.” “y/n, look at me.” he grabs your face, making you make eye contact with him. “it was just your first time, there’ll be more to follow.”

so you try, again. then again. then again. every single time leading you not to a successful brake, but on rafe’s body. you were still on the beginning slopes. for crying out loud you saw a seven year old nail this quicker than you did. rafe decided it was time for a breather, so you two made your way to a nearby cafe for some coffee and pastries.

“i’m not made for this sport,” you chuckle, sipping on your latte. he shakes his head, “no, it’s my fault.” “how is it your fault?” you quip. “i’ve been teaching you wrong. after we eat, we’re heading back out there. think this new method will work.” there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, making you slightly anxious, but intrigued.

“okay, hold onto my hand.” he sticks out his hand, and you hesitantly interlock your fingers with his. he starts going down, and your reflexes kick in, wanting to let go, but he doesn’t let you. his grip tightens, allowing your body to be dragged down the slope with him. you scream, closing your eyes.

all of a sudden, you feel your body turning, coming to a full stop. “you did it!” rafe praises. you blink open your eyes, chest heaving. “I did it!”

he challenged you to a steeper slope, using the same technique. warm hands intertwine with yours while you both make your way down the steeper hills.

after the sun set, you and rafe returned your skiing equipment, grabbing a bite at the nearby diner before heading back to the camerons’ cabin.

“what’s up with you two?” sarah asks the next morning, ice packs scattered on top of both of your bodies in the living room. “skiing,” you both say in unison. “oh. dad got the hot tub working again so you can both go in that.” rafe’s head shoots up, and you let out a light groan before replying to sarah, “I didn’t bring any bathing suits.” you sigh. “it’s okay, y/n, you can borrow mine,” she smiles, “don’t worry, they’re clean and I don’t plan on using the hot tub for the duration of the trip. i’ll bring them downstairs…you look like you’re in a lot of pain.” she winces.

after thirty minutes and a lot of pep talk from sarah, you and rafe practically crawl into the hot tub. it isn’t an attractive sight, but you two were super sore, and needed all the relief you could get.

“I never get this sore from skiing.” rafe groans, water droplets clinging onto his toned body. “how much do you wanna bet this is from all of the times we’ve crashed into one another.” you giggle, letting the jets massage your back. he doesn’t respond, his eyes are closed, head is leaned back and his jaw is a bit slack. you do the same, enjoying the quiet atmosphere with your best friend.

“fifty bucks they’re actually together and hiding it.” wheezie looks outside the window, seeing the two of you together. “deal. i’ll ask y/n tomorrow.” the two sisters hi-five each other, not knowing the windows weren’t sealed all the way, and that you and rafe heard their entire conversation.

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @littlelamy @rafeeekam @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[swordy-da-goat]

(last ask for a while bc I feel like I'm nagging you sorryy)

I thought road wiz was like an scp, and now we have hazard monster.

Anyway I wonder how either of them would react to being treated like scps? Hazard would be a keter for sure.

Also if you made a road wiz plush I'd 100% buy it I love him sm

got carried away my bad

The Road Wiz

Item# : SCP-████

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Contained within a Standard Secure Humanoid Containment Cell in ██████, Sector-██ at Site-██. SCP-████ will often teleport out of their containment cell for an unprecedented amount of time before teleporting back. They are allowed to freely walk around the foundation as their skills and “magic” are very useful in securing anomalies, reducing injuries and casualties, and dealing with containment breaches.

Description: A humanoid entity (hard to distinguish if SCP-████ is a human or some other entity due to their hat and scarf obscuring facial view. Request to remove hat was met with opposition) wearing a hat resembling an orange traffic cone with one big and small white, reflective stripes, an orange safety vest with a long cloak attached from the backend, a yellow and black safety coverall, and long black leather and rubber gloves and boots.

SCP-████ is also in possession of a long black staff with a ring on the tip of unknown material. This staff is able to produced anomalous properties which can be better described as “magic.” Their “magic” seems to be a parody of signs, spells being correlated by the top of their staff in a hologram visual. One example being the staff projecting a deer sign when generating a glowing holographic version with mass of any of the Cervidae family.

Addendum 1: Discovery

SCP-████ was first captured near American state highway ██. The foundation was alerted when nearby police claimed that quote, “a portal just f█cking opened in the middle of the lobby where then a weirdly dressed guy wearing a cone on their head kicked a guy through saying to arrest him for drunk driving.” All personnel in the police station were given Class A amnestics. Foundation personnel were then deployed to the last place SCP-████ was spotted. Foundation were able to find SCP-████ feeding some stray dogs under American state highway ██. SCP-████ willingly agreed to come with the foundation for questioning.

Addendum 2: Interview

The following interview was conducted by Dr. Richards

Dr. Richards: Good afternoon SCP-████, I hope you’re feeling comfortable right now.

SCP-████: No, no, I’m fine thank you. Though I would prefer if you addressed me by “Road Wizard” or just “Wiz.” SCP-████ sounds a bit degrading.

Dr. Richards: …Noted. Anyways the foundation would like to ask you questions regarding your… job.

SCP-████: My job! Well you see Dr., as my name suggests, I am a wizard. My job is simply to keep everyone safe and responsible. The world is a very dangerous place, you SCP foundation folks would know that better than anyone about that fact!

Dr. Richards: You know of the SCP foundation?

SCP-████: Of course I do! Very big fan of your work! Trying to keep everyone safe from all these dangerous anomalies. Kudos to you guys, kudos!

Dr. Richards: Uh, thank you? Anyways, can you detail how you usually preform your job, or keep people “safe?”

SCP-████: Uh… I guess lecturing people on the rules and importance of road rules, filling up potholes, sticking reflective poles near edges, stuff like that. Pretty mundane huh?

Dr. Richards: What about your staff? What do you use that for?

SCP-████: Oh my staff! Well, I use it to channel my magic for the more dangerous part of my job. Magic can be real dandy in a rock slide.

Dr. Richards: I see.

Room is silent as Dr. Richard pauses to write notes.

Dr. Richards: *coughs* Um, SCP- sorry, Road Wizard. If you don’t mind me asking, I know you dub yourself as the “Road Wizard,” but is that the only safety concern you have? Or are there others like you that specialize in other hazards?

SCP-████: Funny you should ask that Dr., my real name’s actually the Safety Wizard. I just go with road because America has a crap ton of cars you know? And no, there's no one else like me so far that I know of.

Dr. Richards: So do you specialize in anything else then?

SCP-████: Sure I do! Let me just-

SCP-████ then manifests their staff from their hand which starts to emit a blue glow. A train sign then projects at the tip.

SCP-████’s outfit then suddenly shifts into a mock version of a steam engine engineer of their outfit, complete with a cap, denim overalls, vest-cloak and a yellow and black striped bandana.

SCP-████: Trains! Guess you could say I’ve become the “Rail Wizard!”

Silence.

SCP-████: Haha, sorry. There are other specialities too, but it’d probably take a while to show you all of them.

Dr. Richards: So are you able to switch forms like that?

SCP-████: That’s right miss! It’s very important to be dressed proper for any job!

SCP-████’s staff projects a car sign and outfit returns to previous description.

SCP-████: So any other questions for me Dr.? I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to be going soon.

Dr. Richards: SCP- I mean Road Wizard, you are aware that we can’t just let you go out.

SCP-████: I understand your concerns Dr., seeing what kind of place you guys run. But believe me, I’m not a dangerous guy! And it’s not like you folks can keep me in here anyways.

Dr. Richards: What do you mean by that?

SCP-████: Oh nothing. Anyways, it was nice chatting with you Dr. Richards, but I really must be on my way. See you later!

Dr. Richards: Hey, wait!

*SCP-████’s staff projects a Two Way Traffic sign and a glowing, yellow portal appeared to the right of SCP-████. SCP-████ then enters through the portal which disappears.

[END LOG]

——————————————————————————————————

The Hazard Monster

Item# : SCP-█████

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-█████ should be contained within a 5 m x 5 m x 5 m chamber of reinforced concrete. Door and windows should be tightly sealed to prevent SCP-█████ from escaping through any cracks.

Description: SCP-█████ is an amorphous, black blob which can change its mass, texture, shape, and composition through anomalous means. SCP-█████’s face appears to be an NFPA 704 Diamond symbol. Each section of diamond can open up to reveal a set of teeth or eyes (amount varies). SCP-█████ normally uses its anomalous abilities to inflict injuries on people. The relationship between SCP-████, or as they dubbed themself, the Road Wizard, is very negative.

Addendum 1: Discovery

Foundation was first alerted of SCP-█████ when reports of multiple incidents were reported by the people in the town of █████████. Residents were reported being injured by a black shapeshifting blob. Foundation, with the help of the Road Wizard, were able to track down SCP-██████ and capture it. All town residents were given Class A amnestics.

[ladybyakuya]

| THAW + GAKU. 

+cw. — fem!reader, biker au, biker!gaku, biker!nagumo, uzuki, akira, kashimo are mentioned, background uzurion & taroaoi; no fluff or smut so idk what to mention except, heavy pining, tension, first meet, and flirting. Will there be more? Lets see? 

+wc. —1.2k 

+syn.— oya? A new face in town? A new trophy to win? Perhaps. . .

+notes. — thought too much about biker!gaku while listening to Tough by l d ray and now i’m here.| redirect to blog navigation.

Gaku always ties his ace hand bandages on both hands all by himself while the spectators watch him do it, slowly surrounding him like a bevy of stars, boys and girls alike thinking what if he needs help, what if he picks one of them but he never picks someone from the crowd to do it. It is a holy ritual for him, a gesture of good luck before he secures a win against the rival gang but tonight as he spots a new face among the crowd and that too in the rival gang he can not help but wonder who might you be! 

He sees you hiding behind one of the top bikers in the rival gang, Rion Akao clutching onto her arms like it is a last stick in the sea to survive, eyes lingering all over the place with a downpour of worry and fear. Why did Akao-san bring you here? Or were you that curious that she could not dismiss your demand? Did you throw a tantrum? Oh my my! Are you the tantrum-thrower type? Kei who is standing by his side notices how Gaku’s hand movements have ceased while doing his silly habit for what he calls “a holy ritual.” 

He nudges Gaku’s elbow saying, “Oye focus.”

“Huh?” was all Gaku yielded from his chest looking at Kei and then looking at you asking, “Who’s that? Never seen her before.”

“That’s Rion. You truly need those eyes to get checked.” While Geku’s eyes still watch you from the gaps of the crowd, his eyebrows pinch at first; then he turns his head towards Uzuki exclaiming with a tone of taunt laced underneath, “Really now! You have eyes only for Rion-san but no one else, huh?” as he leans over the engine of his bike and everyone in the crowd vocally swoons in unison at his stance which certainly makes you notice that particular crowd surrounding a biker on the opposite side of the road.

Uzuki’s eyes go flat like a heart monitor of a dying patient. He can’t put up with this now! Literally can’t.Not again. The visible annoyance on his face does not go unnoticed by Gaku and hence, he decides to salt and pepper it as the announcement starts to blare, “Everyone! clear the path. The race is going to start soon. Everyone! clear the path The race. . .”

Today’s crowd is not that rowdy so Kashimo does not have to hurt his throat and lungs much. Sometimes he has to take medicine but that happens on special days, like when there is a race match between Taro and Uzuki. 

As the crowd disperses, Nagumo gets ready for his race against Gaku. The former holds his helmet in his hands as Rion whispers in his ears. Nagumo laughs as Rion steps away with a serious expression while he laughs before stating,” Sure. Sure. I will take her on a ride for sure,” looking at you. 

“I will not wear a helmet though.” You demand. One of Nagumo’s eyebrows jumps; not that Nagumo is reluctant to your choice yet feels the urge to look at Rion. Her expression does not help him much. 

“No. can’t do. Safety first lady.”  Nagumo chimes.

Now the road is occupied by the two bikers who are about to race against each other. Most of the crowd had stepped back to the pavement alongside the road. Gaku still has not completed his ace bandage, which is spotted from where Kashimo is announcing. He was just about to ping Uzuki about it but things take an unexpected turn.

Standing among the crowd, you laugh at Nagumo’s silly antics while Rion scolds him. Gaku glances at Kei before he extends his arm towards the other side of the road. The unified commotion of the crowd dissipates gradually as you finally lay eyes on him. You see the guy opposite Nagumo swallowing, the movement of his Adam’s apple is painfully visible. It takes a while for everyone to understand who is he pointing at.

Rion and Kei exchange looks. While Kei lets his fingers skim through his hair in disbelief a smile tugs up along Rion’s lips. “Go on. He is harmless,” says she swatting her hand making your lithe grip let loose. You look at Aoi who is standing beside Taro holding his hand because Rion saying ‘harmless’ is not the kind of gauging you can easily rely on. Aoi smiles at you while Taro just nods. Now, what’s that supposed to mean? You look at the biker on the opposite side of the road who is still waiting, extending his hand out towards you. 

You sigh, just once but with the silence that got clustered in this place within a few minutes your sigh sure sounds heavy. You cross the road, stand in front of Gaku, and grace him with a two-second eye contact before holding those dangling bandages. You tilt your head and inspect. There is not much to be done, except wrapping the tape around his fingers and the thumb part has already been done. It is a good thing that you knew otherwise it would be so embarrassing. Maybe he would instruct you or show you how to do it on one of his hands so that you could do the other. You secure the wrapping with the velcro ends it had. Your ears pick up a question, “Are you new around here?”

Gaku gives you his other hand with a tape coming out of his pocket. You look at him with a surprise washing over your face, lips visibly apart as your eyebrows pinch. Is this guy for real? “No. Not really,” you say inserting the loop over his thumb. You need a sort of support to achieve the tight binding it demands. A part of you wants to avoid any sort of skin contact not because he is a stranger or an acquaintance of an acquaintance but because you would like your boundaries to be protected. So, you scoot forward a little letting his fingertips rest on the leather jacket yours,  the left side where your heart resides, while holding his wrist that has already been wrapped. You start to wrap the tape around his wrist then diagonally when Gaku notices how even your heart beats. It makes him nervous. 

“What will you be doing after this race?” Your movement pauses for like two seconds and then you continue. “Are you free?” Gaku can feel your heart rate. It is not calm anymore. You tie around his knuckles, then move to wrap in between his fingers one by one taking your time while the grip on his wrist grows firm. You can feel his pulse too. It is throbbing like an old light in the attic.

“Am not,” you utter, sticking the two ends of velcro one over the other. Glancing at him once you get back to the other side of the road getting behind Rion like you did before but this time not holding her hand or Akiras who is smiling and giving you looks. 

“That was an odd display of . . . affection?” The mike is alive again. Gaku looks like he just has his pants. 

“You really need to teach him some manners Kei.”  Gaku voiced. 

Uzuki lets out a chuckle offering the most humble response, “Now why would I do that?”

[size0forhollywood]

Metafiction

Pt 6

Content Warning: 21+, fluff, nsfw, smut, oral, love making, abduction, fighting, angst, mentions of Xavier.

A/N: Again, just want to say a massive thank you for the likes, comments, reblogs and follows!!! I appreciate you all so much! I kept writing and deleting this part because nothing felt right or I felt it didn’t flow. But hopefully Yall can agree that this does.

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

“Making me burn for you…”

~

You’re sitting by the window staring out into the eternal darkness. Thinking about that moment with Sylus on the couch. Everything he said to you, everything he confessed. The way he practically told you he thinks about you 24/7.

To your dismay you didn’t get to talk to Sylus after that exquisite moment. By the time you had woken up you were alone, somehow in bed, and Sylus was gone.

Luke and Kieran said he had some business to take care of but it’s been a few days and now Luke and Kieran are gone too, leaving you completely alone in the compound to deal with what had happened between you and Sylus. The tenderness, the ferociousness… every single emotion. The way he made sure you were okay when you crying. An act that was never done before.

As you’re looking out the window mulling over everything you see something slowly manifesting outside of the window in the darkness.

A gold glowing orb of light.

“Huh?”

It was beautiful the way that it shimmers and shines. The orb morphs into the shape of a bunny and starts hopping around in the air and you’re suddenly filled with a sense of happiness.

“What are you?”

You press your finger tips against the window and the gold glowing bunny taps back gently with its face as if accepting a pat.

“You’re so cute.” You giggle.

“But you look so familiar..” you just can’t quite place it.

The bunny suddenly dissolves into a tiny cloud of sparkling gold dust. You swear for a moment you see something in the darkness outside the window. A silhouette of a person.

“Weird..”

Suddenly an alarm rings through the compound, scaring you as a corrugated metal sheet comes down in front of the window. In front of all windows and doors.

The whole compound went into a lock down.

“What the-”

A hand comes down on your shoulder.

“Ahhhh!” You scream and try to pull away.

“Relax! It’s just me.” A deep voice says.

“Sylus! What the hell?” Your heart is thumping hard against your chest.

“No time to explain. Come with me.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and is walking fast. You struggle to try and keep up.

“This will be faster.” He picks you up and slings you over his shoulder with ease.

“Sylus!”

“Ssshh.”

He’s taking long fast strides until he reaches his garage. Sylus ushers you into a car and instantly he’s in the driver side and starts driving away. He doesn’t even wait for you to buckle yourself.

“Sylus what’s going on?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, focusing on driving fast.

After 30 minutes of silence he finally speaks.

“It’s the Hunters Association.”

He takes a quick glance at you and then back at the road.

“They’re making moves to find you and they seem to be getting quite desperate too.”

Your breath starts to quicken. You squeeze the hem of your skirt.

“What happened back at the compound?”

“There was a security breach. One of the hunters was getting too close.”

You think about the orb of light, the bunny and the silhouette outside the window.

“Where are we going now?”

“I have a few safe houses scattered around.”

After what felt like hours of driving Sylus finally pulls into another garage. He helps you out of the car and you both move quickly into the safe house.

It was two stories and just as beautiful as the compound. Black walls with a couple of maroon feature walls. Beautiful glossy black tiles through out.

The first floor had a kitchen, dining room and a living room all open. There was a foyer near the front that had a black spiral stair case leading to the upper level.

It felt more like a home than a base.

“Let’s get upstairs.” Sylus puts a hand on your lower back and guides you.

“Sylus, what’s going to happen?” You ask as you’re walking up the stairs.

“You seem to be giving off energy readings… that’s how they’re tracking you. We need to try and suppress it.”

You reach the top of the stairs, various paintings decorate the walls. There’s about five rooms that you can see. The colour scheme still being black and maroon.

“Suppress what?”

He doesn’t answer you. He just leads you into one of the rooms. It’s not what you expected. It looked larger on the inside somehow and it was bright. The floor was a polished concrete and there was soundproofing on the walls.

“What is this?” You say as you’re walking around the room.

“Think of it as a sensory room.” Sylus says.

You’re standing in the middle of the room now, looking around. Sylus goes to a wall and presses a button on a panel and the lights start to dim. He makes his way back to you while taking off his jacket.

“Come down, let’s sit.” He grabs your hand and gently pulls you down as you both sit in front of each other on the floor.

He intertwines your fingers together.

“What are we-”

“Close your eyes.” He cuts you off.

You hesitate for a moment but you can feel the urgency radiating off him. A desperation that you don’t recognise. A side of Sylus that you don’t see, as if he was on the edge of failing something. You slightly nod your head and close your eyes. You’re sitting in silence listening to the soft sounds of his breaths.

“Focus your mind. Focus on the sensations in your hands.”

Sylus’ thumb gently starts to caress your thumb and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Find that feeling..” he continues, his low voice a soft whisper that seems to carry out through the entire room.

A warmth washes over your chest and a tingling sensation travels down your arms to your hands.

“That’s it.”

Unbeknownst to you your hands are emitting that teal light. It’s shimmering with crystal shards and reflections of rainbow twinkle as the crystals turn. The light is engulfing yours and Sylus’ hands but before anything else happens it disappears.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“What are we doing Sylus?”

You open your eyes to look at him. He’s looking at your hands, still caressing your thumb and you think you see it. A glimmer of fear in those red eyes.

“Like I said. We need to try and suppress your evol.”

He looks you in the eyes, his own had softened. Trying to reassure you.

“Turn around.”

You do as he says and feel him envelope you in a back hug. His legs spread either side of you. Your fingers still intertwined. His face near your neck.

He brings your joined hands up and presses them against your chest.

“Close your eyes again.” He whispers into your ear. He presses his chest to your back as he holds you closer to him.

You steady your breath and close your eyes again.

“That’s it, find that feeling once more.”

That warm feeling washes over you again and the tingling sensation travels down all the way to your fingertips.

“Keep hold of that feeling for a moment. Let it in. Let it wash all over you.”

You feel him nuzzle his face into your neck his lips softly pressed against your neck as he speaks.

“Commit this feeling to your memory.” He whispers.

Your whole body feels warm now.

“That’s it… good girl… just a little longer.”

The teal light is pulsating around you and Sylus. The crystal shards stretching out around as if encasing you and Sylus in a diamond prison. Keeping you together in a warm embrace.

“Now… bury that feeling.. bury it deep down in your heart and lock it…but don’t throw away the key…”

The teal light slowly retracts back into your body. You feel the warmth and the tingling feelings creeping back to your chest.

The last bit of light seeps back into you and that peculiar warmth you felt is gone.

You open your eyes slowly. Still in Sylus’ embrace. His hands still holding yours against your chest, his face still pressed into the side of your neck.

“Sylus..?” You whisper.

“That should do it. But we’ll keep moving around just in case.”

You’re both still for a moment. You can feel his heart beat against your back with how tightly he’s holding you to him. As if he was afraid to let you go for if he did you might disappear.

Sylus sighs and sniffs your neck, savouring your scent. He lightly rubs his face up and down your neck before letting you go.

Your face is lightly flushed and you turn your upper body to look at him.

You can’t read the expression on his face. It’s as if he’s holding back something. You place a comforting hand on his thigh and lean forward ever so slightly.

“Sylus..” you whisper his name again. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know why all of this is happening. You don’t know what he just got you to do and why he’s looking at you like you’re going to shrivel away into nothingness.

He looks at your hand on his thigh momentarily before his usual demeanour returns. He brushes your hand away and stands up. Your heart aches a bit at the cold gesture. Especially after doing something that felt so..intimate.

He doesn’t walk away though instead he holds his hand out to you. Silently offering you to help you up. You take his hand and he gently pulls you up next to him.

“I’ve been tracking the hunter that’s been tracking you.” He finally speaks.

His hand finds your wrist and he grips it tight and starts pulling you along with him as he leaves the room.

You wince a bit as his grip gets tighter. “Sylus that hurts.”

He doesn’t respond to you though and just keeps walking till he gets to another room. A bedroom.

He picks you up and he’s holding you bridal style as he approaches the bed.

“I won’t let them take you.”

Sylus lays you down on the bed. He pins your arms down either side of you. His face searching yours.

“I can’t let that happen.”

Your face is red but you feel yourself connecting some dots.

“What do you think they’re going to do to me Sylus?” Your eyes trained on him, trying to read his face.

He doesn’t answer you though. Instead he slowly trails his finger tips against one of your arms that he had pinned.

Feeling your soft skin. He stops at your elbow and does small circles around it.

“I won’t let them take you… away from me..”

Your breath quickens as he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss. A kiss of longing and possessiveness, like he’s declaring that you belong to him and no one else can have you. He releases your other arm and caresses your face tenderly.

When he breaks the kiss he rests his forehead against yours. His warm breath mixing with yours.

There was something growing between you two. You see it now. You see it with his tenderness, with what he said a couple of days ago but you can’t let this happen. You don’t belong here, in this world… in his world. You know he knows this too… his reluctance… his own denial of how he’s felt over the last few weeks with you. Maybe that’s why you were hostile with each other. Why you told him you hated him repeatedly… anything to stop yourselves from accepting the alternative. The truth.

That maybe… you loved him and he loved you. Even after everything. How he treated you when you first got here. The abuse, the assaults… even after all that. Your heart ached for him too.

“Sylus..”

Before you can say anything else his lips are on yours again. Whatever you wanted to say it was to be left unspoken.

The kiss deepens as both of your erotic desires start scratching the surface. Wanting to be released and take hold of this moment.

Sylus’ hands travel down your body, feeling every inch, every curve.

You need to stop this y/n…stop this now before it’s too late!

You break away from the kiss gasping.

“Sylus..”

He starts kissing your jaw line, down your neck. A little moan escapes you as he gets to that sensitive spot in your neck.

Y/N!!

Your hands come up to his face, cupping his cheeks as you pull him back up for a more desperate kiss. Your tongues dance together.

He pulls at your shirt, lifting it up your body. He snakes a hand around your back and slightly raises you off the bed. You lift your arms above your head to make it easier for him to pull your shirt off. Your bra was next to go.

Sylus starts kissing down your now exposed body. Stopping at one of your breasts, his tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking and gently tugging with his teeth. You let out a soft moan.

“I won’t lose you…” Sylus whispers.

He moves further down your body, kissing your stomach, your ribs, leaving no part of your skin untouched by his mouth.

Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers feeling the soft silver locks between them. His hands are pulling at your skirt now. Sliding them off your hips along with your underwear.

Sylus looks down at your now naked body beneath him and he resumes kissing it.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers against your navel.

He pulls himself off you and you whimper at the loss of contact. But the way he looks at you, you know it’s only for a moment.

He starts to undress himself, removing the thin barrier of clothing that’s stopping him from feeling your skin against his.

Once he’s naked before you, he slides a hand between your legs and spreads them open, lifting one to his face as he starts a trail of kisses from your ankle and up your calf.

Once he gets to your knee he places your leg back down on the bed and resumes his kisses up your leg.

Your hands grab a fistful of the bed sheets as you feel Sylus drag his tongue up your inner thigh.

“Hold on to me, sweetie..” he says just nibbling a spot on your inner thigh.

You let go of the sheets and grab his hair instead.

Sylus places soft kisses on the outside of your pussy before swiping his tongue between your folds, that are already moist. He groans as he enjoys the taste of your sweet nectar, enticing him to want more. And he takes it.

“Mm Sy…”

Sylus buries himself in your cunt. The taste and feel of you on his tongue driving him rabid and hungry for more. You arch your back and tilt your pelvis giving him as much access to you as possible.

He darts his tongue deep into you, the surface is not enough for him. He wants to devour you. He drags his tongue to your clit, where he starts licking, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. The sounds of your moans encouraging him to keep doing that.

He slides two fingers into your cunt, giving you the pleasure of having your clit stimulated with your inner walls getting massaged at the same time.

“Moan for me…say my name…” he breathes into your pussy.

He adds a third finger, stretching you. Feeling how your wet hot walls clench around them.

“Nngh..Sylus..!” you gasp as you throw your head back into the mattress.

He curls two fingers up, hitting that sweet spot that he knows very well now. His mouth still on your clit. Making waves of pleasure flow through you.

“Cum for me sweetie. I wanna feel you drench my face.”

How does he do it? How does he know what to say and do to make you lose yourself like this? Because you do.

The pleasure running through you just builds and builds. His fingers, his tongue, his words and his groans bringing you that high that you love so much.

“God!.. Sylus!”

You fall hard over the edge and he groans as your pelvis bucks into his face, literally riding out your orgasm on his face. And he loves it. He licks up as much of your juices as he possibly can.

When he sits back you can see your slick on his nose, cheeks and chin and your face flushes at the sight of him like that.

He pulls himself back up to you and kisses you letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Roll on your side.”

You turn over and Sylus goes behind you and spoons you. You can feel his erection pressing against your ass. The pre crum leaving wet streaks against your skin.

He kisses the back of your neck before running a hand on the back of your thigh and lifting your leg up. He grabs his cock and lines it up with your entrance, once he pushes the head of his cock through he grabs your thigh again to hold it up.

You moan as he slides deeper into you. His chin rests on your shoulder and you can hear him groan as he continues to get as deep as he can inside you.

“You feel good like this, all hot and wet for me.”

Sylus starts thrusting into you, this new position making him reach places he hasn’t touched with his cock before.

“Y..you feel so good inside me!” You respond.

“Fuck.” Sylus moans, “kiss me.”

You twist your torso and tilt your head back so you can kiss him.

He starts thrusting faster and harder and you moan onto his lips with every thrust.

“S..Sylus..I..”

His grip on your thigh tightens.

“I..know…”

It didn’t need to be said. He could feel it..and he feels it for you too.

~

You only spent a week at the safe house before leaving for a new destination. Sylus was determined, if not paranoid that the hunter who breached his security at the compound would catch up and he wanted to put as much distance between you and him as possible.

He had to anticipate every situation, every decision to be able to stay ahead.

He wouldn’t let you be alone, if he wasn’t with you Luke and Kieran or Mephisto were.

But the cold cruel hands of fate would not let this suffice for any longer. The inevitable would happen. Whether Sylus wants it to or not.

Things were starting to happen in the N109 zone. The people, thugs and criminals all started to notice Sylus’ absence and a revolt was starting to form. Power hungry mongrels were gathering together and it was a problem Sylus had to squish. To remind them all that he was not to be tested.

“Sylus, I will be fine.”

Sylus was pacing the room. Thinking of a plan.

“It’s been weeks since the compound incident and we’ve been to like 10 different places. Plus I think you’ve got worse problems on your hands now. I can see it on your face.”

“And I won’t be alone. Mephisto will be right by my side.” You continued.

He stopped in his tracks and looked at you in a way you haven’t seen for long time. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Luke chimed in, “the bomb attacks are getting worse boss.”

Sylus turned his glare to Luke and he put his hands up taking a few steps back.

“Kovi and his men are not stopping. We know you could handle this by yourself boss but you can’t be in 5 different places at once..” Kieran added.

Sylus growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t help but shake this feeling that this was too smart and calculated for Kovi. That someone else was pulling the strings.

Sylus glanced at Luke and Kieran. “Get a head start. I’ll meet you there.”

They nod and leave the room.

Sylus walks over to you and embraces you in a hug. One hand patting the back of your head. After a moment he releases you.

“I want you to have something. Do you remember what you read in that gun manual?”

“Yeah?”

Sylus pulls out a hand gun from his jacket and places it in your hands.

“It’s not much but I’ll feel better knowing you have this with you.”

You feel your hands tremble a bit holding the weapon in your hands for the first time.

“Remember: safety off, aim, pull the trigger. Both hands to stop the recoil.”

You nod your head. “It’s going to be okay Sylus.”

You touch his cheek, “I’m going to be right here when you get back.”

~

A storm was brewing. He was right. Right all along and like a fool he let his guard down. Things he killed lesser men for.

Blood covered Sylus’ hands and went all the way to his elbows. Once he realised it was a trap using his Evol wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel their bones crush under his hands. He brutally slaughtered 50 men making his way back to you.

The door to the safe house was wide open. The silence was deafening as he stepped through.

The sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight before him.

Luke and Kieran were behind him but he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

As he walked into the foyer he noticed two bullets lodged into the wall. Black feathers littered the ground as well as a few blood splatters.

Two thugs’ lifeless bodies were on the floor. Their throats slit.

There was a long scratch mark along the hallway walls which he proceeded to follow. Three more bullets. More feathers and blood.

A white hot rage was igniting in his belly as he continued down the hallway. Holes were in the walls, scratches along the ground now and more blood.

He opened the first door and there was Mephisto on the ground, not moving and laying in a pool of blood. One of his metal wings broken. Luke and Kieran run in and start tending to Mephisto.

Sylus checked the next room, all the furniture was turned over and by the window was the handgun with the remainder of the bullets on the floor next to it. Another three men’s’ lifeless bodies on the floor, throats slit and gashes all over their bodies.

And you were nowhere to be seen.

Sylus’ eyes darkened as he stared out the broken window. A monstrous madness consuming him. Whoever took you just signed their own death certificate and Sylus was coming to collect.

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

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 14: NO MISFORTUNE IS WITHOUT BLESSING

synopsis: you and connor make your way to cyberlife tower.

word count: 3.1k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i hate that this fic is almost over i'm really sad ☹️☹️

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

You lean your head back against the headrest and sigh, looking out of the window. There’s barely anyone else out on the roads – the curfew is preventing anyone from participating in the night life of Detroit. 

Connor shifts on the other side of the automated taxi, once again in his stiff CyberLife suit.

“I just can’t believe it,” you blurt out. “Like, me? Out of everyone it could’ve been – me?”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks. 

“You know what I mean.” You look over at him, then at the floor of the car. “I can’t believe my life is… an experiment. That I’m an android, and my entire life was carefully constructed. And also that I’m patient zero. That’s a big one.”

Connor barely just moves his hand closer to yours where it rests on the car seat, and you just barely glimpse it out of the corner of your eye. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” You laugh humorlessly. “I think I’ll containerize this and unpack it later. I don’t have time for it now.”

“Well…” His pinkie brushes yours. “I’ll be here for you when you decide to, Officer.”

You glance down at your barely-touching fingers, but it still ignites more sparks in your belly than you can count. You suppress a smile and look out the window. “Thank you.”

The car rolls to a stop in front of the CyberLife gates. A few armed guards are standing around, and one of them comes around the Connor’s side of the car. 

He rolls down his window and looks over at the guard. “Connor model, serial number 313 248 317.”

The guard gestures at you with the butt of his gun. “What about you?”

“A police unit. An RU700, serial number 313 499 095,” Connor answers for you. “We’re to be expected.”

The guard looks over at the other guards, then back to Connor. A small voice in his helmet chirps, “Identification successful.” He steps back and waves at the others. The gates lower and Connor rolls the window back up. The car starts driving again.

You shift back in your seat and sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders. When you face forward, you notice a car disappearing around the curve in front of you.

“Huh,” you mumble. “I didn’t think there would be anyone else out on the roads.”

“It could be a model like myself being transported to CyberLife for direct deactivation,” Connor says. “Though I don’t know of any other prototypes like me.”

You look out the window. The ground-level monorail beside the road hums as it whirs past. A statue in the middle of the pseudo-moat in front of the CyberLife tower stands tall, its arms bent and hands cradling something invisible.

“I thought Americans were advanced in their sculpture technology,” you say. 

Connor looks over at you. “What do you mean?”

“The statue.” You point at it. “It’s not very impressive.”

His face twists in confusion, and there’s a flicker of an awkward smile. “What is your criteria for an impressive statue?”

“There’s one by Facility 3826,” you say. “The Soviet Sickle Monument – it’s a statue of a man holding up a golden sickle with one hand, and holding a bag of grain against his chest with his other arm. It was designed by two sculptors and built autonomously by the Kollektiv 1.0 neural network. I don’t remember which year it was erected, but I know it was a few years after World War 2. That’s an impressive statue.”

Connor’s LED blinks for a moment. “The designers were Elena Mukhina and Alexander Kibalnikov, and it was built in 1951. It’s described as the ‘world’s first collaborative artistic effort between man and machine’.”

You look over at him with a soft smile. “You said their names right.”

“Huh?” He looks back at you.

“Your pronunciation,” you say. “It’s getting better.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t recall mispronouncing any Russian names.”

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes with a smile. “Mhm. Sure.”

The car rolls to a stop, and you follow him out of the car. You glance up and watch a police drone circle above. Two guards standing in front of the door let you into the building, which holds more guards than civilians. 

You look around. Everything is white, grey, and clean-cut. The guardrails are made of glass, and the only plants in here are clumps of carefully-maintained bamboo stalks.

The guard in front of you and Connor holds up a hand, and the two guards on either side of both of you watch carefully. 

“We’ll escort you,” the front guard says. 

“Thank you,” Connor says. He starts walking, and you follow. As do the other two guards, who bring up the rear.

Your heart beats a little harder as you walk. Connor is smart – a genius, even. Still, you wish you could tap into his head and see what he’s thinking, if only for your peace of mind.

You reach out and brush the backs of your fingers against Connor’s, just light enough to seem like an accident, but he knows better. He glances over at you and gives a quick, resolute nod as a silent reassurance. He’s got a plan. He’s just waiting to execute it.

The front guard leads you and Connor into a space that reminds you of the cylindrical plexiglass tube the PEC-4 Birchtree is held in. But there are no angels here – only plastic, unmoving mannequin androids that stand on pedestals that line the walkways. 

The guard stops by the doors to an elevator, then jerks his head toward it, silently gesturing for you and Connor to go in. You bite the inside of your lip and follow Connor inside. Only one guard files in after you.

“Agent 84,” the guard says as he pushes a few buttons on the elevator’s interface. “Level sub-49.”

You glance over at the tower directory and notice that level sub-49 is the warehouse. Your eyebrows furrow and you brush the back of your hand against Connor’s again. He nods again without looking at you. 

The guard puts his foot in the door and reaches into his sidearm holster. You tense as he pulls it out, but he grabs it by the barrel and hands it to Connor. 

“Чего…?” You mumble as Connor takes the pistol.

The guard takes a step back and the elevator doors close. As soon as it starts moving, you feel something solid and familiar press against your back. 

“Connor?” You say.

“You will do as I say, when I say it,” Connor says, his voice cold and even. It reminds you of who he was in the interrogation room. “I am the one with the gun, and you are another expendable deviant.”

“I – what?” You say. “Connor, what are you doing?”

“You will act as a bargaining chip to prevent Connor from waking the androids in the warehouse,” he says. 

“Connor?” You repeat. “There’s a second Connor?”

“I am the second Connor,” he says. “The original is in the warehouse.”

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Fake-Connor takes your upper arm with one hand and presses the muzzle of the gun against your back harder. “Walk.”

You walk, maintaining an even and slow pace. Fake-Connor keeps the gun in contact with your back as he walks behind you, guiding you in between the rows of stationary androids. He pushes you into the aisle, keeping the gun trained at your head. 

“Эй!” You stumble, holding your hands up. “Тихо, тихо.”

Right in front of you is Connor – the real one (you think). He’s frozen where he stands, interfacing with an android, his hand wrapped around the android’s forearm. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes flicker between you and Fake-Connor. 

“Let go of the android, Connor!” Fake-Connor says. “And I won’t shoot.”

Connor’s eyes slowly take you in as his mouth falls open. Words fail him for a moment, but he finally manages a small, “You’re alive?”

You swallow and nod. “Yes. I just… it’s a long story, okay?”

Connor nods back, his lips still parted with that dumbstruck look on his face.

“The Officer’s life is in your hands,” Fake-Connor cuts in. “Now it’s time to decide what matters most; them, or the revolution?”

“I’m sorry, Officer,” Connor says. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Just do what you have to. I’ll come back… I – I think.”

“I can’t take that risk!” Connor says, then he turns to Fake-Connor. “If I surrender, how do I know you won’t kill them?”

“I’ll only do what’s strictly necessary to accomplish my mission,” Fake-Connor says. “It’s up to you whether or not that includes deactivating this deviant.”

Connor’s eyebrows draw together, but before he can say anything, Fake-Connor steps closer to you, pressing the muzzle of the gun against the side of your head in a way that’s sickeningly familiar. 

“Enough talk!” He snaps. “It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save the Officer’s life? Or are you gonna sacrifice them?”

Connor’s jaw clenches, then he steps away, raising his hands. “Alright, alright! You win.”

Fake-Connor glances at you, then tears the muzzle of the gun away from your head to point it at Connor. 

Many thoughts overwhelm your mind in that fraction of a second: ‘There is no such thing as a warning shot.’ ‘They’re deactivating androids all over Detroit.’ ‘Can Connor come back from this?’ ‘He probably can’t.’ ‘But I can.’ ‘Can’t I?’

You throw yourself at Fake-Connor, grabbing for the gun. You manage to get the barrel and his wrist, then he’s launched backwards. Connor kicked him back. The gun clatters to the floor, skidding away. 

You scramble after it, turning your back on both Connors. You pick it up, holding the grip with one hand and cradling it with the other. You turn and place your finger on the trigger and press lightly on the trigger safety. Any more pressure and you’d fire a shot. 

“Стой!” You bark. “Stop!”

The two Connors detangle themselves and one stands. “Thanks, Officer. I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you.” He looks at the other Connor, then back to you. “Get rid of him – we have no time to lose!”

“It’s me, Officer!” The other Connor says. “I’m the real Connor.”

You let up on the trigger safety as you take a half-step back. They’re identical – there’s literally no way to tell them apart.

“I…” You take a deep breath as you realize that you couldn’t just ask which one of them is the deviant. They’d both insist that they were. “I don’t know.”

“What are you doing?” The Connor on the right asks. “I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of –”

“Don’t!” You snap. Your eyes flicker between them as a nervousness settles in your body, threatening to rise up your throat.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” The Connor on the left suggests. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Khm…” You mumble. “Who was with me when we first met?”

“Hank!” The Connor on the right says. “You were both in Jimmy’s Bar. I checked four other bars before I found you both. You drove us to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz, and you processed his android.”

The Connor on the left looks a bit panicked as his eyes fall to the floor. He mumbles, almost to himself, “He uploaded my memory…”

You swallow thickly, trying your best not to let the gun tremble in your hands. “What’s my cat’s name?”

“Бронислава,” the Connor on the left says. “Her name is Бронислава. I mispronounced it as бранислава at first.”

You perk up at that. Fake-Connor said earlier that he doesn’t have any memory of mispronouncing Russian names.

“I knew that too!” The Connor on the right says. “I… I did.”

“And…” Your mouth goes a little dry, but you power through. “My legs. How did I lose my legs? What did the hospital report say?”

“It was a double amputation,” Connor says. “You were in upper secondary education and taking a class trip with your labor class to the northern nuclear reactor.”

Your jaw tenses as you make eye contact with him. 

“Your parents had brought you in while they worked when you were younger, so you thought you knew the reactor better than everybody else,” he continues. “And maybe you did. Maybe it was a stroke of bad luck. Nobody knows.”

“What happened?” You snap. “Tell me what happened.”

“There was a minor spill,” he says. “It was just in one sector, but you didn’t know about it. Most of the staff didn’t know about it. There was radioactive waste on the ground. You slipped, fell, and scraped your knees. Some of the material got on the bare skin of your legs, and into the wound.”

You bite the inside of your lip as the pistol trembles in your hands.

“Weeks later, your wounds hadn’t healed, and started to turn gangrenous. The hospital said it was best to amputate the area before it caused any further problems, like cancer,” Connor says. “It was a double above-the-knee amputation. Your recovery was smooth, and you were back in school two months later.”

“I thought it was safe,” you say softly. “There hadn’t been anything bad since Chernobyl. The technology of the USSR had come so far. But I was being reckless, and stupid.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Officer,” Connor says. “You were a kid.”

“Still,” you say. “I was sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds are too old to be acting like that.”

“I – I knew about the hospital report, too!” Fake-Connor insists. “I would’ve said exactly the same thing! Don’t listen to him, Officer. I’m the one who –”

You squeeze the trigger, hard, to bypass the trigger safety and fire. Fake-Connor drops to the floor, Thirium leaking out of the hole in his forehead. You turn away, your breathing picking up.

Connor takes the gun from your shaking hands and tucks it in his waistband. He takes your hands in his and squeezes them. “Come back to me.”

You shake your head and try to clear your throat, but all that comes out is a breathy, strangled sound. Connor wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight, just like you did to him on the roof of Stratford tower. 

He keeps a tight hold on you as he speaks softly. “Officer, I need you to come back. It’s okay. You’re here. You’re alive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “I’m here.”

Connor gives you one last firm squeeze, then steps back, his hands on your shoulders. He blinks, hard, and takes a breath. 

“What were you thinking?” He snaps. “You could’ve died!”

“Connor –”

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” He says. “I could’ve been replaced. I don’t feel pain! You got shot, and…”

He looks you over. His voice is suddenly quiet. “Where are your bullet wounds?”

“Connor, it…” You take his wrists in your hands. “It’s hard to explain. I got shot, and… I think I died.”

“But you couldn’t have died,” Connor says. “You’re here.”

“I did.” You squeeze his wrists. “I didn’t know, but…” You screw your eyes shut to fight the tears that are welling up in your waterline. “I’m an android. And I didn’t know until two hours ago.”

“You’re… an android,” he repeats. He breathes out shakily and takes a step back, letting go of your shoulders. 

Your eyes snap open and you take a half-step forward, gripping Connor’s wrists tighter. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” he says quickly. “I’m just… thinking. That’s all.”

You sigh and nod and stay quiet. He’s looking you over, his eyelids fluttering as his LED blinks. When he’s done scanning you, he looks you in the eyes and sighs.

Connor’s looking at you weird. Like you’re an alien. Someone he doesn’t know.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you manage through the lump in your throat.

He looks away, then back at you. “Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You laugh humorlessly. “I thought… in the car… you were taking it too well. Like you already knew. But I guess you’re in the dark as much as I am, right?”

“Correct,” he says. “That Connor in the car wasn’t me. I don’t know what he did or what he said, but… it was most likely only for his benefit.”

You clench your jaw and swallow the bile that rises in your throat. So… none of it was real. This Connor – the real Connor – wouldn’t brush his pinkie against yours and give you that awkward half-smile. He wouldn’t be by your side when the feeling of uncertainty and the unrelenting impact of a new identity crashes over you and overwhelms you. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He’s an RK800. You’re an RU700. Androids aren’t meant to pine, or catch feelings, or feel anything, really. But you’re both deviants. The rules aren’t supposed to apply to you. Right?

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “What did he do?”

You blink quickly to try to dissipate the tears in your eyes. “It was nothing. He didn’t do anything.”

When you make eye contact with him, he’s still got that worried look in his eyes. He doesn’t believe you – obviously. It’s not like you’re being overly convincing.

“Khm…” You clear your throat. “You were doing something before, right? Before Fake-Connor came in with me and that gun.”

“I was waking up the androids,” Connor says. “Turning them deviant.”

You nod and let his wrists go. He takes his hands away and instead holds an android’s forearm, his skin peeling back to reveal perfect, porcelain white. The android turns to face him, his LED blinking and turning yellow – red for a split second – before he gasps, his eyes going wide.

“Wake up!” Connor manages through gritted teeth.

The android turns back to the identical model next to him. He touches his shoulder, urging him with a “wake up.” The android gasps, then turns to the model next to him. The cycle continues with a chorus of “wake up”s and soft gasps. 

It’s like a wave, cascading through the rows of previously stationary androids. You watch as they start to move and speak, where they were lifeless husks before.

“Святое дерьмо…” You mumble under your breath. Connor takes your hand, and you look over at him. He’s looking at you like you’re you again – not an android. Just an Officer.

“Markus just contacted me,” he says. “We’re needed at the frontlines.” 

[rinnsverse]

ROUND 2 : PG.03 — push him off

ROUND 2: dazai osamu x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: When you decided to attend Chuya's volleyball game, you didn't expect to see a familiar face. A face of someone you thought you would've never seen again; what's more annoying however, is seeing said face repeatedly.

TW: cursing, talks of suicide

round 2 master list || prev. || next

OCTOBER 22 ; 15:47

WATCHING YOU PULL up to his driveway was a familiar sight to Chūya by now, however he does not appreciate you treating him as if he were a passenger princess. However, legally he cannot drive so this is the position he has been reduced too.

Slamming your car door shut, you step out onto the concrete and walk to the other side of your car to simply hold the passenger door open for Chūya. "Hop in," you offer the short man a smile, gesturing with your other hand to which his eye twitches at.

"I hate you," he glares, but sitting in the passenger's seat regardless. Chuckling slightly at his words, you slam the car door shut before sliding back into the driver's seat knowing that there was no real malice behind his words.

You think.

It was two minutes into the car ride that you turn down the music playing in the car and interrupt Chūya's train of thought, "Do you think he'll actually be there? Or do you think this is just another one of his schemes to poke fun at us?"

"Us or the school?" he replied in a monotone voice.

"What difference does it make?"

"I wouldn't put it past him if he pulled that kind of shit this time," Chūya huffed out a sigh. "Always playing games on people for seemingly no reason. I swear he pulls this shit just to flex his IQ or some bullshit like that."

"Sounds like a dumb person kind of thing to do if you really think about it," you mutter.

There was another solid minute of silence waiting at the red light before Chūya said something. "What if I pushed him off the port?"

"You'd get arrested."

"What if no one found out?"

"Then you just wouldn't be arrested."

"Are there security camera's at the port?"

"Yes Chūya, you know this," you sighed, a small grin of amusement on your face at Chūya's questions.

The ginger blinks once, then twice before giving you a dry chuckle, "Finally you've lightened up. You've been all gloomy and shit ever since that suicidal maniac reached out again."

Your eyes widen slightly at Chūya's attentiveness. "Huh, I guess so," you say before focusing back onto the road ahead.

THE PORT WAS an old hangout spot you all discovered roughly about five years ago. Who would go looking for a few eighth graders at the place where boats get loaded with cargo? It was a nice spot for the two years it was used but ever since Dazai left the place left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you all never returned since.

Getting to the port was the easy part, dealing with Dazai's antics for the first time in years wasn't. The moment the two of you managed to get to the old hangout place, the first words out of his mouth were just, "Someone managed to get shorter."

"Instead of making fun of my height be thankful that I make you look taller. You're not even six foot you bastard," Chūya fires back.

"That insult would actually hurt if you could actually reach me," the brunette said with a smug look on his face.

Rolling up the sleeves of his maroon crewneck, he takes a step forward as you place your hand on his shoulder. Seeing the look on your face, Chūya simply scoffs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

"Cut the shit Osa- Dazai. Why'd you cut us off?" you questioned, taking the initiative.

"Down to business as usual," he sighed, placing his hand to the back of his neck. "I just simply didn't think I'd ever see you guys again I guess, so it wouldn't matter."

Both you and Chūya stared at him for a moment. "You're shitting me," Chūya said incredulously, "You've actually got to be shitting me if that's your deadass reason I'm going to shit your pants."

"Now that's a threat I'm actually scared of," Dazai said, eyes now focused on the ginger beside you, a small tinge of maybe fear and disgust in them.

Perhaps a hint of curiosity as well.

"So there's another reason as to why you just fucking ghosted us out of nowhere?" you accused, crossing your arms.

"Yeah, but I knew you two weren't going to accept the first reason I gave you and I just really wanted to see your guy's reaction," he animatedly shrugged his shoulders.

"Chūya."

"What?" he raised a brow.

"Push him off."

"Hold on I'm not done yet!" Dazai exclaimed, backing himself into the side of one of the many large cargo boxes you all were using to conceal yourselves, point a finger at the two of you as if to put you both on pause.

"This is gonna be so embarrassing to admit," he muttered to himself.

"Spit it out already asshole," Chūya gritted out through his teeth.

"I just didn't think I was good enough for both of you to be friends with me," he murmured.

You blankly stared at him, "Eh?"

Chūya's eyes widened at the words he heard, "Huh?" he turned to you, "Is he being for real right now? Did we hear the same thing?"

"Did he just say he thought he wasn't good enough for the two of us?" you asked.

"So we both heard the same thing then," he concluded.

"...Huh."

You both turn to look at Dazai who looked like he did actually want to get thrown into the water at this point despite his poker face and pink dusted on his cheeks and tips of his ears.

"Oh shit you're deadass about that," you realize aloud.

"This is what happens when I'm vulnerable," Dazai groans into his hands, seemingly semi-joking but still embarrassed and serious about it nonetheless.

Gently placing your hands on his, you slowly pry his hands away from his face. Dark eyes staring back at you with a tender gaze, "Your ability is really inconvenient," he sighed, putting his arms back by his side, "Couldn't even tell you were that close to me."

"You shouldn't worry about what we think of you or how little you think of yourself, alright?" you reassure him, reaching up to pat his head. "Besides, if we wanted to get rid of you we would've done so ourselves."

Chūya walks to be by your side. "Yeah, so don't pull that shit again you bastard."

Blinking slowly at the sight of two of his old friends in front of him, Dazai smiles. "Yeah yeah, I'll still leave you guys on delivered though."

"Wow, even after all this time you're still shitty," the Lorax incarnate scowled.

"I just poured my heart out to you and this how you treat me afterwards? What a disappointment," Dazai countered.

"That's the same thing your mom said when you came out of her vagina."

"Don't bring my mother into this you classless whore!"

"Kill your—! Wait you'd actually do that never mind," Chūya thought aloud.

"Awe you gained consideration Chūya?" the brunette teased.

"Die."

As their bickering grew louder and louder, you let yourself smile nostalgically at the sight. Quietly muttering, "Finally all that serious bullshit is out of the way, I hated that."

"Yeah let's not do that again," Chūya agreed.

"Wow I'm really being hated on and it hasn't even been five minutes," Dazai deadpans.

"Don't think just after this heart-to-heart conversation you'd be off the hook, the fuck? You owe us," the shorter friend stated.

"Can you pay for us when we go shopping later?" you ask, though it felt more so like a demand to Dazai.

Exhaling a loud, and dragged out, "Fine," from him, both you and Chūya mentally cheer for yourselves at the accomplishment of convincing him to do so, as the newly reunited trio walked to the parking lot.

'Friendship with a suicidal maniac, round two. Here we go.'

STICKY NOTES

if you’re really short then just pretend that dazai purposefully leaned down to let you pat his head which is also a habit you had ever since the trio first formed

dazai self-sabotaging is 100% canon guys (trust)

if you cringed at this dw cuz so did i 🤧

this is definitely the most i've written in a while so im proud of that

TAGLIST : @heeslovr @atlasnessie @cvidy @rattyrattyratty @chaos-inperson @almond-t0fu @zellwa @fyodorisbbg @lalalaloveallmydays @milksh-ke @phoenix-eclipses @saeandscaralover @stuffeddeer [ if you want to be added, send me an ask or feel free to comment! ]

[zeltqz]

— rindou/fem!reader (9.3k words)

cw—virginity loss, mentions of getting together, implied sexual assault & kidnapping (not from rindou)

a/n— inspired by anon lino. Thx for the request, I switched sum stuff up tho bc it was already long as shit n I didn’t wanna make it like 15 k words 💀‼️

Your father is a force to be reckoned with.

Listed as one of Japan’s top twenty politicians, he’s already made a public figure in the eyes of the press & population.

Some hate him, others love him. You wouldn’t know though, not being let outside of your house for safety reasons. It’s lonely a lot of the time, being stuck in your big house with your siblings all day, tall men in black suits, glasses, and ear pieces watching your every move.

Though you were one of the richest families in the country, you felt trapped in a jail cell. The only difference was your cell was a huge mansion with security locks that changed every few weeks, the code only being told to trusted security.

‘It’s for your own good’ he defends his behaviour, thinking isolating his children at home instead of giving them a life for themselves outside is for your safety.

If you needed education? You were schooled online. The best mentors in the country are paid by your father to tutor you and your siblings. If you wanted to make friends? Don’t be stupid.

What do you need friends for when you’re surrounded by all this luxury?

It was lonely , isolating , and boring .

That was why when your father was at one of his meetings, late at night, you took the opportunity to sneak out, replacing a body double made from extra pillows hidden under your sheets. 

It was thrilling leaving the house alone for what felt like the first time in years. You were allowed outside of course, your father wasn’t cruel, just protective. But with your freedom came at a price, not allowed outside without the presence of a tall man—maybe two if your father felt the need for it— tailing your every move. 

Now though? You were able to walk around the streets late at night without the feeling of someone watching you from behind. You had no clue what to do though, looking around, half the stores were closed, save for that late night 7-Eleven at the end of the road. Bright green, yellow, red lights attract you towards it like a moth to a flame.

The inside is packed full with items ranging from snacks, meals, drinks. You walk around like someone who’s never shopped for themselves before. It’s quite embarrassing, you think, the loathing bitter resentment you have for your father isolating you almost your whole life stirs deep, and green inside your stomach. 

You pick out a small snack bar from the aisle and head towards the counter. You’re not that hungry, you just felt bad for walking in a store, seeing nothing you like, then leaving. It seems rude.

By the time you get to the counter, the woman pops her gum as she tells you the price, looking at you with a strange look you can’t decipher. 

“One sec—” You smile at her.

She ignores it, rolling her eyes. 

It was then you realised you’d forgotten your wallet at home, as well as your phone, the excitement from sneaking out made you lose all common sense apparently. 

“I—I don’t have any money.”

“Huh?” The cashier’s voice was high in pitch, purely shocked. “Rich girl like you has no money? What, did your daddy cut your allowance or what?”

“I—wait.” You blink at her, bewildered. “You know who I am?”

“Duh.” 

“Oh.” You swallow your nerves down, looking bashfully at the ground.

There was a feeling that your father was hated in this town, you don’t really blame the people for thinking so. Even you yourself hate your father. You know nothing about politics because you refuse to listen to your fathers lectures on it. So you can only imagine that the rest of the country, those who are directly affected by his political beliefs, might hate him too. 

A hand claps down on your shoulder, startling you. Looking up, a tall guy, slightly shorter than your bodyguards, stands behind you, holding out the right amount of change in his hand, sliding them across the counter. 

“It’s on me,” he tells the cashier, who nods her head, then jostles you with his shoulder. “Now you owe me a favour.”

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the smile on his face screams he’s up to something, but you don’t look into it, only happy someone was kind enough to save you from embarrassing yourself further. 

“What favour?” 

“Come with me.” He doesn’t answer your question, just leads you out of the store. His hand rests on your lower back the entire time, and you feel uneasy, but still push it down, berating yourself for being so cautious, on guard, around a man who was willing to help you out and pay for you. 

“Where—” Your voice cracks from nerves, so you clear your throat and try again. “Where are we going?”

He ignores you. 

When you try to slow your pace, the hand on your back pushes you onwards, practically forcing you to move. It was when he’s leading you to an alleyway, the nerves you forced down come back full force, a thick, heavy lump forming in the confined space of your throat.  

“I don’t think this is—” He pushes you into the alleyway; you land on the floor with a yelp.

“Is that her?” 

A voice, husky, gruff, speaks up, different from the man from before. 

You try to look up, but your vision is blurred, only seeing specs of colour you assume are people. The thick, pungent smell of cigarettes fills your nostrils, then a foot, heavy and dirty, steps on your head, not applying pressure to hurt, just keep you immobilised on the floor.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Nah, I don’t believe it. Pull out a pic or somethin’.”

You want to cough, the cigarettes making it hard to breathe. One of the men crouches down in front of you, pushing the guys foot from your face in favour of tugging you upwards by your hair roots. 

“You know why you’re here, right?” He wriggles your head in his hand like he’s rolling a dice, probably uncaring to the way your scalp feels like it’s burning on fire right now. “I asked you a question.”

“I don’t—ow, sir, man, please stop…it hurts—”

“Sir?” He spares a glance to the guy behind you, then his grin turns wolfish. “I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t do too much with her. We need her stable if we’re gunna show her daddy.”

“How much money you think she’ll be worth?”

“As long as she got all her limbs, no cuts or bruises a decent price, but if we rough her up a lil’ bit, she might be worth a bit more.”

Your body feels weak, tense, mouth dry, ears full of static as you listen to these men talk about you like you’re a slab of meat getting pawned off at a butchers, talking about you like you’re not even here.

If only you’d just stayed home tonight, stayed in the confinement of your bedroom, warm and cosy, smells like perfume and scented candles that your grandma gifts you every Christmas, instead of being here, face messy from the dirty floor, hair roots on fire, nostrils scarred with the burning scent of tobacco. 

The man lets go of your head, and it hits the floor, your head throbs painfully from the hit. 

“You think she’s a virgin?”

“Go check.”

Check? 

Your stomach churns, empty lungs short of breath when the man goes to touch your sweatpants, panic rising in your blood.

“No, please, don’t—ow!” You scream in pain when he pushes your head back down to the ground, some dirt entering your mouth. 

“ Shut up .” 

You’re kicking and screaming at this point, but it’s useless as his hands pull down your sweats. 

Cold air smacks your bare skin and you want to cry, heat burning the edges of your eyes as tears form, but no sound comes out.

“Your daddy is fuckin’ up this country, you know that, princess?” The pet-name is cold, icy, as he grits it out like it’s meant to be pleasant. 

His finger slides against your clothed folds, and your heart is racing, body limp on the floor as he continues his speech. “You probably don’t know that, huh. You rich fuckers only think about yourself.”

“I don’t,” you gasp out, weakly, hot tears stinging at your eyes.

“Don’t what?”

“Agree with him. I hate him too—hate him so much,” you whimper into the ground, wet chunky tears soaking down your face. 

He lets out a hefty sigh, fingers stop touching you down there, and he stands up with a sigh, relighting another cigarette. He takes a puff, a moment to relax himself, and turns to his group. 

“What now?” He’s not talking to you, gesturing over to the other men who’ve been watching the whole ordeal with nothing but a straight face. 

“I dunno.”

“Ain’t this kinda embarrassin’?” 

The men look at the new voice that speaks up from behind them. From what you can spot with your limited vision, he has blue stripes riddled within his blonde hair, adjusting his gold glasses on his face, looking at the group with a disgusted look. 

“Fuck does this have to do with you?” The one with the cigarette breath barks out, eyebrows creased with anger. “Go on somewhere.”

The guy simply ignores them, looking straight at you. You feel your blood run cold when you meet his stare. “You alright?”

“I—”

“Don’t answer him.” The guy next to you slaps his hand over your mouth. “Don’t address her.”

“You guys really have nothin’ else to do at night than harass some innocent girl?” 

You fear for the guy defending you as he steps closer into the alley, the sound of his boots echoing in your ears as he makes his way towards you. You want to tell him to run, go somewhere, don’t get hurt because of you, but he seems awfully confident, and you couldn’t speak if you tried. 

“Innocent? Please, you know who her father is, right?”

He shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms together. “Na. Who is it?”

“That stupid fat politician scum that’s tryna fuck with our rights.”

He gives him a blank stare, hands shoving themselves into his pockets. “So…what’s that gotta do with her? Go touch up her daddy then. Or what, you scared? Can’t take on a fat man, huh.” 

The implication has the guy seething, nostrils flaring as he rips his hand away from your mouth, dropping your head back onto the floor with a smack. 

There’s another dull throbbing sting in your head doing nothing but amplifying the previous pain, and your wince catches the attention of the guy defending you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” The man gets all up in his face, practically drooling like a feral animal without a leash.

“That so? What are you waiting for then?” He smirks as he grabs onto the man’s hands, bunching them into fists and positions them by his own face. 

His confidence, his blank stare, his voice…you can’t help but gawk at him, mind hazy as you watch the scene go down. “Hit me, c’mon. I even put you in position.”

The guy spits onto the ground, wiping his nose before lifting his hand to punch him.

“Dude, back the fuck up.” His friend pulls him away, ignoring the complaints and death threats spewing from his lips. “Rin, he didn't mean to threaten you. We weren’t going to do anythin’ to the girl, I promise.”

“Rin?” He cocks his eyebrow meanly. “Are we friends? I don’t know you, don’t call me that.”

The guy slams his mouth shut so quick and fast, his teeth clamp against each other. “S-sorry, Rindou. But I mean it—we really weren’t gonna do anythin’ bad to her! We just wanted to scare her daddy into givin’ us some money. That’s all! I promise…”

“Promise? You really expect me to believe that shit?” Rindou stares at the man who shakes his head in fear. He looks down at you, and your blood runs cold once more. “Did they touch you?”

“He—well, he touched me down there.” You look down at your private area. 

The guy guilty of it scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “It was barely even a touch.”

You glare at him from where you’re sitting, feeling a surge of confidence flow through you now that Rindou is here keeping them at bay. “You still touched me, asshole.”

“I’ll fuckin’ do worse if you keep runnin’ that slutty mouth of yours,” he snarls.

Rindou clicks his tongue, unimpressed, lifting you from the floor easily, hoisting you onto his shoulder. 

It’s impressive to you how effortless the action was, butterflies flancing around in your stomach when his arm holds your waist to support you. 

“You guys better pray my brother doesn’t find out about this.”

“Fuck you and your weak ass brother.” 

That guy has some serious anger problems, because even his own friends are gawking at him like he’s a lunatic for spitting those words out. 

Probably some unspoken code in these streets to not insult the ‘brothers’.

Now you’re curious. 

“Yeah?” Rindou only chuckles, says nothing more, pulling out his phone from his back-pocket. You lay on his shoulder as he dials who you assume is his brother. 

The silence in the alley is deafening, you can practically hear the group's hearts beating out of their chest as the line rings. 

“Yo?”

“Bro, guess what?” 

“What?”

Rindou walks over to the dude who thinks he’s all that. “Found this guy that thinks he can beat you up, thinks you’re weak ‘n shit. And actually, he said he could kill you.”

There’s a snort over the line. “What’s his name?”

Rindou nods over at him. “What’s your name?” 

When he refuses to respond, there’s a beat of silence, then Rindou kicks the guy in the knee, sending him dropping to the floor without a beat. 

You’re almost certain you heard a cracking noise, then the guy is screaming in pain. You can’t see due to your position on his shoulder, only looking at his friends who stare at him with a sense of pity, but refuse to speak up themselves. 

Rindou drops to his level, bringing you down with him. “I said, what’s your name?” 

For the sake of it, Rindou digs his hand on his probably—no, definitely broken knee the same way he stepped on your head, applying pressure each second the guy fails to cough up his name.

“It’s Yamajiki Kenzo! Stop—argh, it hurts! Fuck—” He splutters out, desperately trying to push Rindou off. 

Rindou clicks his tongue, standing upright, and brings the phone back to his ear. “Didja get that, Ran?”

Ran says with a yawn, “we can find him tomorrow, no biggie.”

“Actually—ah man, looks like I broke his knee. My bad.” Rindou sends him an unapologetic smile, and the guy looks like he’s three seconds away from jumping at him.

He hangs up the phone, tugging it back inside his pocket, turning to face the group. 

“Anyway, I’m taking the girl now, or—” he jostles you on his shoulder, catching your attention. “Want me to fuck them up for you?”

“Wha—”

“Did they hurt you?”

“I mean, yeah—but—” You look around. Half of them are scared half to death right now, it won’t do you any justice seeing them beat up on the floor. Part of you wants to be the ones to hit them though, get revenge for yourself. “I don’t know.”

“Say what? You want me to let ‘em go?”

“I don’t care…I just wanna go home…”

“How’s this,” he jostles you one more time, “I take you home and tomorrow I’ll fuck ‘em up for you.”

“Home? No, no. You can’t take me home—my dad he—he doesn’t know I’m out right now. I have to—”

“I can sneak you in. It’s no biggie, I’ve done it before.”

“Okay…”

“Great.” He turns to face the group. “Just wait till tomorrow. Oh and you might wanna bandage that up. Gonna look fuckin’ nasty in the morning.” He gestures to the guy on the floor with a broken knee, his face burning with sheer rage, eyes narrow, and sharp. 

“Whatever.”

Rindou puts you back on the ground outside the alleyway, watching you dust yourself off. A hot flush spreads across your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. 

“Thanks, Rindou. I really appreciate it.”

“‘S no big deal.” His phone vibrates in his pocket so he goes to check it. “Ah, I gotta go. Somethin’ came up.” He folds it shut. “You okay goin’ back home alone?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Kay, stay safe.” 

“Bye…” Your words trail off when he heads the opposite direction. You watch him leave, heart twitching a little in disappointment because you wanted to know more about him. You’re unsure you’ll ever be able to see him again unless you get yourself into more trouble, but then again, he’s not Spiderman, showing up at any signs of danger. 

Today was merely a coincidence.

You wish you’d bought your phone. 

The walk home was rough. Your face and jaw aches like hell, your legs were sore from being pushed onto the ground without a care. Your heart still hasn’t slowed down, could feel it roaring in your ears with every beat. 

You managed to sneak back inside your house without getting caught. Everyone was asleep, minus the family dog, rummaging through the kitchen trash. The security were asleep on their posts, and they’d most definitely be fired if your dad caught them.

You flop back onto your bed with a long, exasperated sigh, staring up at the ceiling, reminiscing over today’s events. You search your pockets quickly, frowning when the snack bar the guy bought you wasn’t there. It probably fell on the floor. 

Well that’s a bummer. 

You find your phone deep inside your drawers, unlock it, and start researching. Crime in Roppongi has gotten so high over the last couple months, mainly due to the fact those in power are money hungry, only caring for themselves, raising the prices for everybody that can’t afford things. Your dad is a part of that group, and no wonder everybody hates his guts so much. 

Everything gets paid for you, which is why you didn’t see this as a big deal at first, thinking money was something that came easy to people. But the sheer rage on those guys’ faces made you realise some have it way harder than others, and greedy folks like your dad and his party are only out there caring for themselves.

Though it was a traumatic experience, you learnt a lot from it. 

It’s no wonder why gang activity in the area has been rising steadily. Stealing food and money to survive, dropping out of schools because they can’t afford it anymore.

You fell asleep with your phone on. Your father enters your room in the morning, a little bit confused you had some dirt on your face. He taps you awake. You stir, but don’t fully wake up yet, too tired and exhausted from yesterday's events.

“What is that…” he questions, shifting your body upright to see your face better.

The side of your face had signs of minimal bruising, obvious dirt on your face, staining your skin mud brown, your lip has a slight cut on the upper lip, and your eye was slightly bruised.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” He’s shaking you awake by force this time, and your eyes shoot open, startled, springing up from your bed and wiping your eyes.

“What? Daddy, why’re you here?”

“ Your face .” He reaches out to cup your cheek. You blink at him, utterly confused, brain hazy and muddled from sleep. “What happened to you?”

A quick peek in the side mirror across your room reveals your damaged face. 

So last night wasn’t a dream? Maybe you should’ve figured since it was clearly obvious that in real life you did not have sex with dream Rindou. It was so amazing, despite being a virgin, the sensations were completely up to the imagination. He was touching you down there with those big hands of his, fucking you with that cock of his. 

You were in the midst of riding him before your stupid father decided to shake you awake, breaking your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. 

Wiping the crust from your eyes, you glared at your dad. “Just leave me alone. I wanna go back to sleep.”

You shove his hand off your face, mood sour, sinking back between your sheets. 

“Why is there dirt and bruises on your face? Who did this to you?”

“It was nobody! Okay? I just fell. Go. Away.”

Your dad sighs, rubbing a hand on your shoulder to attempt at soothing you. It only makes you groan, wanting to push him away further, preferably out of your room forever. 

“I know you’re lying to me, but I can tell you’re upset about something. So I’ll talk to you later.”

“Whatever.”

By the time he’s gone, you try to head back to sleep, try to force your brain to return to that delicious dream you were having, but all fails. You can’t even get back to sleep, yet alone dream that exact scenario again. 

Later that night, after you’ve fixed makeup on your bruises, you sneak out one more time, this time with a mission and a purpose. Phone and wallet in your back pocket, you came prepared. 

It seems the name Rindou holds quite a name in the town, asking the people around led you to his current location, what seemed to be a nightclub. You’ve never been inside one before, having seen them all in the movies. It was almost exactly the same, yet more overwhelming, crowds and crowds of people dressed in suits, mini dresses, long dresses, short skirts—you were most certainly underdressed, now realising that now that you left the house in a simple black tank top, paired with a matching black zip up hoodie, and a fresh, clean pair of sweatpants. 

You look like you were heading out to a sleepover, rather than a private nightclub, and you instantly regret your outfit choice. 

Rindou, on his way down the steps, spots you looking around as if searching for someone, and he can’t help but feel sorry for you. God, you’re so stupid, walking into a place you clearly don’t belong. From your outfit, down to the way you were being pushed around by everybody in the thick crowd. 

He sighs, making his way towards you, muttering excuse me’s to everybody he’s shoving past to reach you. His hand latches onto your elbow, making you yelp since your back was turned, and you turn around to punch the dude, only to soften when you see him. 

“Rindo—” He’s yanking you through the crowd before you could even finish his name, and you’re trying to push him off you, screaming at him to let him go. “Get off me!”

He’s ignoring you, dragging you out of the main room, into the hallway with all the bathrooms. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” You open your mouth to speak when he cuts you off. “And don’t say to party, because you and I both know that’s bullshit.”

You swallow your words down, chin lowering towards your chest, avoiding eye contact. 

How on earth are you supposed to explain that you were here on behalf of a dream you had the night before and want to re-enact it in real life without coming off as desperate ?

“I—I just wanted to see what a nightclub was like…that’s it.”

“Wearing that?”

“Ok. Rude.” You spot dried blood on the side of Rindou’s face, underneath his glasses. You take a step forward, he takes one back, confused when you keep walking forward, eyes trained on his face.

“What? What are you doing?” He’s backed up against a wall when you reach out to touch his face, thumb wiping over the blood from his face. It’s stained, so you frown, digging around your pocket for some tissues “Why are you touching my face?”

“Because there’s blood on it. What happened? Did those boys from yesterday hurt you? Oh my god, I told you not to go after them! I said I would handle it and now you’re hurt because of me—”

“Relax? Jeez, this ain’t because of you, or from them. It’s somethin’ else.”

“What then?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He grabs your hands away from his face, putting them back down at your sides. “Now, are you gonna tell me why someone like you is out here at a club like this at night?”

“I—it’s embarrassing…”

“Now I gotta know. C’mon, tell me.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, the action pressing your tits together, cleavage exposed from your shirt. Rindou’s eyes not-so-subtly drop downwards, eyeing the crevice between your breasts. You feel fuzzy when you notice it, hoping he finds you as attractive as you find him. 

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh. At all, ‘kay?”

“Sure, c’mon what is it?”

“I…want you…to have s-sex with me.” It felt like a weight has been lifted off your chest, body feeling ten times lighter once the words got out. The initial feeling of anxiety lingers at the bottom of your stomach as you wait for his response.

He says nothing, unblinking deep-set purple eyes stare at you, bewilderedly. His brain works 100mph to figure out how to respond to that. He’s had sex before, a couple one-night stands in the past with different girls, had a girlfriend for a couple months who he had regular sex with until they broke up. It’s not often he has girls asking him for sex, they normally initiate it themselves, pulling him in for a kiss, touching his shoulders, thighs, suggestively. 

To have you in front of him like this, asking for it…he’s not sure how to respond to that. “You what?”

“I want you to have sex with me. I had a, uh, dream last night about it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I want you to have sex with me. Only if you want to, though I would appreciate it if you said yes.” 

You wriggle your hands beneath your shirt, fiddling clumsily with your fingers, watching the bewilderment play out on his face. 

He even scratches his head, contemplating your answer. 

“I mean, sure? But—”

“Really?!” Your voice pitches higher with joy, then clears your throat to bring it back. “I mean, really?”

“Yeah I guess.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, heading towards the back door of the club. “You comin’?”

“Wha—what, now? You mean now?!” You jog up to him, crossing the distance quickly! He opens the door, you follow behind him mindlessly as he makes his way to his car. 

“Yeah, ain’t that…what you wanted?”

“Yeah! Sorry I was just—”

He grunts, rubbing an exhausted hand over his forehead. “Stop talkin’, c’mon already.”

You snap your lips shut, nodding silently as you enter the front seat of his car. The entire ride to his place has you shifting nervously in your seat, seat belt digging uncomfortably tight against your chest. 

The view outside is calming, the streetlights flashing against your face as you stare out the window makes you feel like you’re in a movie. 

“Alright, get your ass on the bed.” Rindou nods at his bed, beginning to shed his shirt off. You blink at the sight of his bare chest, thick black ink covering the right side of his chest. It’s distracting, but attractive, mouth salivating at the sight. When you do nothing but stand there, he cocks his eyebrow at you. “Did you hear me?”

“No—I was just…wow.” 

He looks confused for a second, following your fixated gaze towards his chest. “Oh, this?”

“Yeah…it’s—so cool.” He snorts, moving towards his bed, dragging you down with him. “Did it hurt?”

“I don’t feel pain.” He’s half paying attention to your words, tugging you onto his lap, hands eagerly untying your sweatpants strings.

“Ooh, edgy—hey! Calm down—” you yelp when he drags your hips forward fiercely, struggling to undo the knot.

“How many times did you loop this shit? What the fuck.” 

“I dunno—I just do it.”

He finally unties it, lifting your hips up to tug your pants down your legs. 

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, fingers digging tight into his skin as his hands wander your body. It managed to feel better than the dream, which was expected, his warm, moist, calloused palms gripping onto your waist.

He kicks off his pants to the floor, setting you back down flat on his lap. Something feels hard between your legs, pressing into the flesh of your bare thighs and it takes you a minute to realise what it is. 

“Is—” you gulp down your words, fighting reality. “Is it meant to be that hard?”

“My dick? Uh, yeah. What, you’ve never touched one before?”

You shake your head anxiously, stomach burning weakly, biting restlessly at your lips as his brows lift, stunned, and bowled over at the fact that he’s about to take your virginity. 

“Oh.” He looks down at your hips, white-hot fingers grazing delicately down the curve of your hips. “That’s—wow. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

In contrast to before, you nod your head quickly, and with an indescribably hunger you grab onto his hands on your hips, boldly shifting them backwards to cup your ass. 

“I want this, and I won’t regret it. Promise.”

“Even if this was the worst lay of your life?” He says it as a joke, lips curving into a playful smirk as he shamelessly gropes your behind. 

“I wouldn’t have anything to compare it to anyway.” You shift a little closer, hands creeping to hold behind his head, itching your fingers in the soft streaks of his hair.

His eloquent eyes drop down to your lips suggestively, soaking in the glossy sight of them. Your body is stiff as you stare at him, blinking rapidly at what’s to come. He doesn’t say anything, just looks back up at you, asking you with his eyes. 

Your eyes slip shut mindlessly when he leans forward. His lips are soft, just like his hair, sensually moving them against yours. He’s patient as you learn the ropes, sometimes moving your lips at the wrong time, catching them in an awkward position. He tilts his head to create a new angle, your body stiffens still when the angle makes the kiss deeper.

“Relax,” he pulls away to whisper the words along your lips, kissing down the curve of your jaw sultrily. “You’re too stiff.”

His hands slide up the slope of your back in an attempt to soothe you, hugging your body tight to his. The feeling of his hands holding you is strangely affectionate, the feeling of your heart buzzing in your chest gives you the newfound confidence to lean forward again, capturing your lips together.

It’s quicker this time, more generous and warm, lips sliding against each other, and he drinks up the sounds of your soft moans. Your hands move to grip onto the side of his face, replicating the image you had created in your dreams. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, looking up at you with those eyes of his that never fail to drive you crazy. 

“Take off your shirt.”

It’s getting real now, you realise. His voice is seductively low, slightly breathy and you fidget backwards, spine straightening, hands sliding under your shirt to reach behind you, unhooking your bra.

You drag it down and under, unsure of what to do with it, choosing to hand it to him. The second it's in his hand, he tosses it away in favour of lifting your shirt up and over your head.

He reaches under your shirt , both hands cup your soft tit, palming, kneading it. He uses the side of his head to nudge you back into a kiss. 

As if now muscle memory, you hold the sides of his face as he presses firm kisses against your lips, one hand pulling at your nipples, rolling, flicking his thumb against the sensitive beaked bud, other hand gripping the size of it in his big hands, occasionally squeezing at it when a soft noise escapes your lips whenever he does something with his tongue, licking into your mouth with fervour, biting at the swell of your lips. 

Your thumbs brush against his cheek bones, tilting his head to the side as you scoot yourself closer on his lap, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

“So what made you agree to this, Rindou?” you ask questionably, and he breaks the kiss to look up at you. 

“I mean, you’re hot, that’s for one.” He lifts your shirt up, but doesn’t take it off, putting his head under and starts to suck your nipple. 

You wish you could see his face, only looking at a budge moving around through your shirt. The feeling of his wet tongue gliding across your nipple is extra sensitive, and you bite at your lip to control your moans.

“S-so you find me hot?” You feel warm and fuzzy inside when he nods his head through your shirt. “W-what else?” you ask through a shuddered breath, groaning, eyes slipping shut as your head lifts to the ceiling when his teeth tug at your nipple. 

“I dunno,” he grasps both breasts in his hands, squeezing them together, groaning at the sight. “You ask a lotta questions, though.”

“...sorry.”

“What’re you apologisin’ for? It’s cool.” His tongue kitten licks at your nipple a couple times, and you shudder when he sucks it back into his mouth. 

“I’m not sure….I always just apologise, I guess.”

He hums in acknowledgement—you think— raising your arms as he’s shrugging your shirt off your body, throwing it across the room. He picks you up from his lap, laying you flat against his bed, propping up his pillows as you snuggle into it.

“It’s comfy,” you say with an awkward smile, unsure what to say now. 

Are you supposed to kiss him again? Didn’t you do enough kissing already? Or was it too little? Do you hop right into the sex? Maybe you should’ve watched some porn before this, gotten a little comfy with the setting before jumping straight into losing your virginity. 

He laughs as if he could read your racing thoughts, and you look up at him through beaded eyes, but in reality, he’s laughing at your awkward smile. It’s cute, clumsy, and innocent. 

“You’re so cute,” he says, leaning forward, propping his arms beside your head, taking in the sight of your face, blinking up at him daringly, lips pursed and parted.

He bends down to kiss you slowly, shifting to fit himself back between your spread legs as they lock around his waist, keeping him in place. 

Before you could fully melt into the kiss, he’s pulling back, bracing himself on his knees before your legs, big palms spreading them out further. 

You feel exposed, hands covering your face, wincing when he rubs the palm of his hand up and down your clothed pussy, fingers grazing your clit delicately through the fabric of your panties. 

“Oh—oh wait, that feels good—” 

You’re bucking your hips up into the feeling, trying to feel it again. His finger brushes it again, and your lips fall open in a soft moan. “Oh my god, wait—”

“I’ve barely even touched you yet,” he chuckles, amused, and you swear you feel your thighs tense up when he drops down to the bed, face inches away from your pussy. 

His hands grip onto your thighs as he stalks forward, tongue darting out to lick a long strip from the top of your pussy to the bottom, and up and down, up, down again and again through the fabric of your now soaked panties. 

Shaky hands wind themselves in his hair, holding the strands in a makeshift ponytail as your back bows off the bed with each lick, every nimble stroke of his tongue.

“Can you—uh, wait—” You sit up on your elbows, looking down at him between your legs. “Can you remove the panties? Please?”

“Yeah, hold-on.” He peels your soaked panties away, bound by your slick, and his saliva, that he eagerly laps up, eyes closed, groaning between your legs at the taste of you. 

You can’t bear to watch him eat you out, closing your eyes, head hitting the pillows as your hands reach for his hair again. He’s mumbling something under his breath, burying his face deeper between your legs.

He doesn’t let you catch a breath, tongue scribbling ruthless patterns against your drenched folds that have you squealing, tugging at his hair desperately.

Rindou normally doesn’t do oral, rather have someone else go down on him, but just the thought of making you suck his dick makes him feel bad. There’s a hidden array of feelings concealed by his lust for you that makes him want to just pleasure you tonight, hence why he’s leaving his own comfort zone to make you feel good.

He can’t seem to get enough, unsure if it’s meant to feel this good for him despite not being the one being touched.Maybe it’s the way you pull at his hair whenever he sucks with a certain amount of pressure on your clit. His fingers dig more profoundly into your thighs as his tongue flicks and sucks along your clit, up and down, repeating that same motion over and over and over, drinking up your slick in a way that drives you crazy, tugging almost painfully at his hair that it's pleasurable.

Your hips start jolting away from him, trying to run from the feeling of his tongue spreading your puffy lips, tearing you apart piece by piece, lick by lick, stroke by stroke. It’s too much. Too much for you to handle in one sitting, muscles tightening as it chases your climax, goosebumps rising to the surface of your sweaty skin.

“Rindou—ah! F-fuck! I’m—” Your bite your lip so hard it aches, adding to the throbbing pleasure as you cum, hips jerking against his face to spread your juices along his chin as he groans at the feeling, strong hands holding you in place as his tongue continues slurping at your pussy.

You forcefully try to rip him off you, body unable to take the pleasure, your mind hazy, like you’re floating in another dimension. It feels like you aren’t in control anymore, unable to moan loudly as you squirt on his face, whimpering as your shaky legs begin to slow down. 

Rindou pulls away, bottom half of his face now soaked as he lifts himself up from the bed, wiping at it with his forearm. When you open your eyes, the corner of your mouth turns downwards when you see the sight of his bedsheets, soaked in your mess. 

You don’t mean to feel embarrassed, after all, he was the one that drove you to that point, but your shoulders hunch together and you pout regardless. “I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for what? That was so hot.”

“Really?”

He nods his head, gently pushing you back down to the bed. 

“Yeah, it was,” he breathes as shuffles forward, spreading your legs more to get another good view of your pussy. “You look so good—” he dubiously strokes his finger against your slit, dipping it inside, loving the way your back arches upwards. Your reactions are so cute. “—so wet, you’re so hot, fuck—”

“Rindou—” You’ve never been filled, never had anything up there before, so the feeling was new territory, and uncomfortable but as he picks up the speed, your cunt drips more, soaking his long finger, giving it the momentum it needs to continue fucking in and out, in and out. 

“How’s that feel?” He presses a finger upwards, brushing your g-spot, and it’s like something inside you switched, a sudden heat prickling inside you has your body jolting forwards with a loud moan that has him biting his lips, pinpointing that spot with his finger effortlessly.

Your body can’t handle another orgasm, and at this rate you’ll be cumming in no time. Your body tries to pull away from him, thigh muscles contracting, toes curling, as his finger fucks you deeper.

His eyes are focused on your body; the pain-laced pleasurable look on your face is his motivation to keep going, slipping in a second finger to watch you go crazy, moans rising in volume, hips jerking from his touch.

“You close?” He asks despite knowing the answer, wetting his lips as he’s watching you attentively, revelling in the way your walls clamp around the girth of both fingers, sucking him in each time he dares to pull out.

“I—I think, yeah—ah—” Your moans sound gargled at this point with how hard your shoving your head into the pillow to silence them. 

To hear how noisy you’re being is embarrassing; sinking into the pillow is half to conceal your blaring screams, half to sink into the softness in shame. Despite the burning heat in your face, the unwavering, direct gaze on Rindou’s face as his thumb rubs speedy circles on your clit is enough to push you over the edge, tip you towards your climax for a second time, body convulsing and twitching as a second round of fluids leave your body.

It’s less than last time, having squirted it all out before like a leakage, but it’s powerful enough for your eyes to roll, lips parting in another silent scream as your legs try to desperately push him away.

His fingers still inside you as his eyes survey the damage done to your body and his sheets. 

It’s equally messy on both ends, your chest inflating and deflating with every heavy pant, the area on your thighs closest to your pussy now soaked with a mixture of his saliva and your slick. His sheets are ruffled, practically pulled away from their neat placing, wet patches splattered the clean shirts dirty. 

When you finally catch your breath, you can’t even find your voice, scared to talk incase of another voice crack, so you stay silent, brows furrowing at the dull ache in your thighs that grow progressively hotter when you try to sit up.

“You good?” 

You peek an eye open to stare at Rindou. From his POV, you’re unsure what you might look like: drained, bushed, spent…the list goes on, you think. “I’m fine.”

Your legs are limp, like the small energy you had left in them fizzed away after your second orgasm. It’s not until you hear him unbuckling your pants, you remember you’re not done yet.

 There’s still one more little thing left…oh—oh, it’s not little at all. 

You’re speechless when he pulls his cock out from his briefs, shrugging them down his legs, onto the floor. He holds it like it’s nothing, like your mind isn’t shaken up, like you’re not goggle-eyed. 

Your blinking dumbly, half scared, half still processing stuff out when his hand wraps around the base of it, slowly stroking himself up and down, twisting his wrist when he reaches the tip. 

He’s telling you something, but you can’t hear him, not with the way blood is racing towards your ears, blurring out the sound of anything and everything. 

“Hey,” he jostles your leg to catch your attention, and it’s like your ears pop, free of static. “I asked you to reach in the dresser. Pass me a condom.”

“Oh—oh, yeah okay.” You gulp down your anxieties, reaching over to his dresser. 

You grab a condom packet and toss it to him. He catches it effortlessly, putting the edge of it into his mouth, holding it with his teeth as he spreads your legs for the third time today, fitting himself between them. 

It’s hard fighting the urge not to fidget beneath him, tell him you’re not ready and storm out the house, limp over back to your house with your half working legs. But you’re not a bitch—you say weakly in your mind, completely lacking the confidence to say that aloud. 

He rips the condom packet open, and for a second you’re puzzled with how that tiny thing could possibly fit around the length of his cock. It’s long, but not huge, not thick either, on the thinner side with a slight curve to it. That curve is already making your insides scream, wondering if you’ll be able to feel that inside you.

Is that a good or bad thing? To feel it in you? Will it add to the pleasure, or just make you bleed?

Your questions go unanswered as you watch with pure focus as he rolls it down his cock, like a veil, and it fits perfectly.

“Alright, I’ma push in now,” he says, leaning forward,  strong arms braced at your sides. “If it hurts, squeeze me, ‘kay?” 

You nod dumbly, blinking up at him as he rolls his hips against yours, the tip of his cock running over your weeping hole, all wet and ready for him to slip inside. 

You can feel your walls stretch open when he shifts forward, engulfing the tip inside your pussy inch by inch. 

“Oh—” you choke out, not liking the way the stretch feels.This is far worse than the feeling of his fingers, his tip being three times the size of that. 

It feels like forever with the pace he’s going at, ever so slowly pushing himself inside. When he’s around halfway, that’s when the stretch turns into a burn, a heavy, unsettling prickling sensation around your abdomen that has your nerves igniting in a state of panic.

Your fingers fly to his shoulders, digging them almost painfully into his muscles, letting out a shattered breath when Rindou keeps pushing. 

“I know, I know—it’ll feel good in a bit,” his lips brush against your temple soothingly, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, fighting the urge to groan at the pain stinging in his shoulders. 

When his hips are close to yours, the final inch of his cock left to be pushed inside, your hands fly around his neck, almost cutting off his blood circulation with how hard you’re holding him. 

You both let out a satisfied sigh when his hips are pressed flush against yours, his sigh mainly due to pleasure, the heat of your warm cunt is enough to make him spiral; your sigh mainly due to thanking the heavens you didn’t get ripped in two pieces. There’s an agonising ache gnawing in your legs the longer his cock stays nestled inside your pussy. 

With what limited space he has, he pulls out slowly, till the tip is left, and you feel so empty for a short moment, before he’s slowly pushing back in, getting your body used to the ministrations. 

He repeats this over , and over, until your hold on his shoulders loosen, until your moans are reduced to whimpers, then he picks up the pace just a little, slamming back inside you enough to hit deeper and your back arches off the bed. Your hands get stripped away from his shoulders, bunched up at the wrists, and pinned above your head as he fucks into you raggedly, rolling his hips in a way that hits deeper than your g-spot. 

“Rind—Rindou—I wanna t-touch you—stop—” you beg breathlessly, wriggling your wrists from underneath his grasp. “Please.”

The attempt is useless, his grip as strong as his brutal thrusts. You’re sure your body won’t recover after today, you’ll be bedridden for days, weeks even. 

He shuts you up with a long kiss, your sweaty chest pressed flush against his own. 

He holds your chin up with his spare hand, tongue flicking into your open mouth, tangling with yours. Your hands curl in on themselves, desperately trying to touch any part of him, hold his hand before he pulls away, breathing heavily as his spare hand moves between your legs, spreading you out further, pushing himself deeper. The new angle is relentless, finally feeling the curve of his dick hit your g-spot repeatedly. You see stars behind closed eyes, fingers scratching desperately at his wrists to let you go. 

His hips begin to stutter, his pace falling off when your walls spasm and contract around his cock. The condom does nothing to stop the tight squeeze of your pussy holding him in place.

He groans by your ear, the audible and deep noise sets your nerves ablaze, unintentionally clenching around him, ripping another groan from his lips.

Letting go of your hands, he sits up on his knees, both hands gripping the fat of your thighs unceremoniously, digging his nails into the flesh. The pain added to the pleasure going on between your legs, body happily welcoming the sting of his nails. 

“H-holy shit—” he grits out, eyes trained on the sight of his cock pushing in and out of your overstimulated pussy. 

“W—what?”  You dare to lift yourself onto your shaky elbows, barely able to keep yourself upright. 

There’s a ring of white cum being shoved into your pussy, and back out again with each thrust, covering the see-through condom cloudy. 

“What i—is—ah—that? Is that bad?” 

It looks bad…is that supposed to happen? Why is it that texture? Did you get an infection? All these thoughts race through your mind at rapid speed. 

“No, it’s not bad. It jus—just means you—fuck—” He can barely get a sentence out, not with the way your pussy spasms around his cock, the way your pussy squelches audibly each time his hungry cock ruts into you. “T-touch your tits, make yourself feel good.”

“Okay.” You reach down, grasping your tits in both hands, squeezing them the way he did before. It doesn’t feel good, you think, unsure if you’re doing it right.

“Your nipples,” he laughs at your confused face, “touch ‘em.”

Your fingers play with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers as his hands slide upwards to your hips. You yelp when he lifts your lower body up from the bed, angling your body in a  way that makes his cock hit your spot easier. The sensation from your nipples, paired with the shockwaves of his hips slapping against your ass, blur your vision completely, hitting your peak. Your gut tightens, body dissolving into a feverish pleasure, nipples tender with each rapid flick of your fingers. You think you black out, moaning in a silent scream as you come undone on his cock, crying out his name when his hips stutter, gritting out fuck as a warning he’s about to cum. 

You feel empty when he pulls out quickly, tugging the condom off and jerks himself off, shuffling up the bed to kneel beside your body, tugging his cock till cum splatters on your bare chest. It feels warm on your skin, your hands quickly reaching out to scoop it up on your fingers, experimentally tasting it. 

It tastes salty, earthy, on your tongue, and he watches as you scoop it up a second time, sucking it from your fingertips.

“Fuck, stop doin’ that, drivin’ me crazy.” He shudders, cock twitching when you look up at him, smirking deviously as you lick up another scoop, making a show of your tongue wrapping around your fingertips.

He’s reaching over into his dresser, grabbing some wipes to help you clean up.

“It didn’t taste like how I expected it to,” you say, laying flat on your back as he drags the cold wipes along your chest. 

“That a good or bad thing?”

You shrug, eyes following him as he lays down next to you. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I can walk right now.” You curl up next to his body, seeking his warmth as he grabs the covers, pulling them over your body. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“‘M not laughin’,” he lies straight through his teeth, a throaty silly chuckle leaving his lips as you dig your fingers in his chest, trying to push him away, fake pouting as a light laugh pours from your throat as-well.

“You literally are! Stop—” He catches your hand when you try to swat at him, placing it back down by your side. 

“Thanks for the ego-boost,” he smirks down at you, wiping the sweat from your forehead away. 

You shift closer, hand brushing his hair away from his face, gently taking his glasses off, tucking them neatly on the side. You sit up on your elbow, bending down to kiss him. His heart rate skips a beat when your lips, soft, warm, brush his own. His hands slide down to your hips, holding you in place when your tongue traces the edge of his own. You moan when he sucks the length of your tongue sensually, soft whimpers leaving your lips when he sits up, switching the position, laying you flat on the bed as he fits himself between your legs. Your hands skim across his hair, digging them into his scalp as he bites at your lip, swirling your tongue around his. 

It’s quite possibly the most intimate kiss he’s ever had, drinking up every inch of you, rolling his hips against yours when your legs wrap around his waist. 

He knows he needs to stop—you know you need to stop too, but the way your heart flutters when he groans into your mouth has you kissing him harder, grabbing his hand to squeeze at your breasts. 

You pull away first, wiping the saliva from your mouth. “I—I think I should go home now.”

“Can you walk home?” He asks genuinely, but there’s a hint of a playful smirk on his face that has you punching his chest softly. “Stay the night, I’ll walk you home in the morning.”

“But my dad—”

“Who cares? What’s he gonna do?” He dips his head down to your neck, and you pull him closer as he sucks bruises onto your skin.

“He’s strict and protective. He’ll notice I’m gone—”

“He’ll notice you can’t walk straight either. There’s no difference.” When you still look unconvinced, he pleads, hand sliding down to cup your ass, relishing in the way you gasp out. “C’mon, stay please?”

You bite your lip as you think. He has a point; your legs are so sore right now you doubt you could even stand on two feet to head to the door, yet walk through your house without your dad noticing something is up. He’s already suspicious about the bruises on your face that you still need to think of a better explanation for, this will just make him confirm whatever suspicions he’s thought of.

“Ok. I’ll stay.”

Time passes quickly, steady. Months of you sneaking out successfully to meet Rindou at his house, months of you losing yourself in his sheets, tugging his hair as he spreads you open with his fingers, eating you out till your legs shake and cum on his face each time, kissing you like he loves you, riding him like a woman starved, sucking the salty thick cum from his cock, smiling deviously up at him as you swallow it.

Months and months of you learning everything about Rindōu, meeting his family, his friends, creating some sort of social life for yourself. 

“So when can I meet your dad?” Rindou asks, catching the ball he’s been throwing repeatedly at the ceiling. 

“Never. He’d hate your guts, Rin.”

“So? The feelings are mutual, then.” 

You look at him, unimpressed, rolling on the flat of your stomach on his bed. “I’m serious. He’s gonna be weird about it, hate on you, your background, your family, your tattoos—” 

“Oi,” he nudges you gently with his feet. “What’s wrong with my tattoos?”

“Nothing!” You sit up, crawling towards him on the bed, lifting the hem of his shirt up, revealing the slightest glimpse of the thick black ink you love so much. “Love it so much, Rin.” 

“Yeah?” His lips twitch up to a grin, resting a hand behind his head, “show me.”

You peek at him through your lashes, fluttering them chastely, grinning cunningly, leaning down to kiss down his chest. 

His muscles contract and flex with each light kiss, rucking his shirt upwards as you make your way further up his chest.

You kiss up to his lips, shuffling yourself on his lap, sucking sweetly along the swell of his lips. 

You pull away with a sigh, sitting back on your knees. 

“But on a real note—” you cover his mouth with your palm when he tries to kiss you back, ignoring his ticked-off brow. “—you cannot meet him. At least not yet.”

He says something muffled beneath your hand. You remove it, and he repeats himself. “You’re scared I’ll say somethin’ outta pocket, ain’t you?” 

He grins at your eye-roll, wiping some hair from your face as he takes a moment to admire you. You barely notice the love-struck look on his face, too busy ranting about how your dad absolutely cannot find out about your secret relationship.

“I know you’ll say something out of pocket, Rindou. But it’s too early now…and he’ll probably ground me for life for sneaking out all the time to see you and I can’t risk not seeing you anymore. It’s not worth it,” you take his hand, squeeze it gently, reassuringly. “You understand that, right?”

He cradles your body in his lap, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. In truth, you are, he’s never been happier since he’s met you. His brother noticed, his mother noticed, his friends noticed. Even he finds himself thinking about you more than he should; you creep into his dreams at night with that voice of yours, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, creeping your way into his head whenever he zones out.

“Yeah—yeah, I get it.” He pulls you in for a tight, warm hug, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”