#whatever Rob just wanted an excuse to touch him again…..

[corneredcopia]

This is all I could think about during that scene

[missmadella]

His Jacket, His Girl, His Forever (Mikey x Reader)

Summary: It started with a game. Just you and Emma rating the boys of Toman during a shrine meeting, giggling about who’s hottest and who gives the best hugs. You didn’t expect Mikey to overhear. And you definitely didn’t expect him to throw his jacket over your shoulders like a claim of territory.

Words: 12280

Warnings: Soft possessiveness, clingy Mikey, a few kisses that might steal your heart, and Emma being the best wingwoman.

You met Mikey because he stole your sandwich.

Not in a cool, movie-style theft where your eyes locked across a bustling convenience store or something. No. He just walked up, took one look at your lunch, and said:

"That looks better than mine."

Then he picked it up and took a bite.

It was a Tuesday.

You blinked at him, absolutely stunned. “Excuse me?”

He blinked back, still chewing. “You gonna eat the rest?”

You were standing outside the corner store you always stopped at after class. You didn’t know who he was — not yet — just that he was barefoot for some reason and wearing a school uniform that didn’t match any of the local schools. His face was too pretty for his attitude.

You stared at him. “Did you just rob me?”

Mikey grinned. “Technically, no. You’re still holding it.”

You looked down at your half-eaten sandwich. Then back at him.

“…Are you high?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, hands on his hips like he’d done nothing wrong. “Just hungry.”

You could’ve slapped him. You really could have. But then he tilted his head, sunlight hitting his eyes just right, and he smiled like someone who’d gotten away with worse.

“…You’re insane,” you muttered.

He beamed. “You’re fun. I’m Mikey.”

You didn’t give him your name. Not at first. But that didn’t stop him from showing up the next day.

And the next.

Turns out, Mikey was a bit of a legend — whether you wanted to hear it or not.

“Manjiro Sano,” Emma said when you finally brought it up. “Leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang.”

You nearly dropped your drink. “That’s Mikey?!”

She gave you a look. “You’ve been hanging out with him for two weeks and didn’t know?”

“To be fair,” you said, thinking of how he kept showing up barefoot to random convenience stores, “he doesn’t exactly scream ‘dangerous gang leader.’”

Emma raised a brow. “Tell that to the people he’s kicked unconscious.”

“…Right.”

But it was too late by then. You’d already kind of liked him.

Because Mikey wasn’t what you expected. Sure, he was unpredictable. Occasionally terrifying. Once made direct eye contact with you while eating an entire chocolate bar without chewing.

But he also made you laugh — a lot. He had the worst jokes. The best timing. He asked questions no one else thought to ask, like:

“Do you think ghosts get bored of haunting the same place?”

Or, your personal favorite:

“If I name a goldfish ‘Shinichiro,’ is that disrespectful or kind of sweet?”

Sometimes he said nothing at all. Just showed up, walked beside you, and shared whatever snack he was carrying — even if it was only one bite. (Sometimes especially if it was only one bite.)

And over time, you noticed things.

Like how he always waited for everyone else to eat before he touched his food. Or how his eyes drifted toward the sky when the conversation got too serious, like he was trying not to remember something.

He was strange. And reckless. And a little broken.

But he made you feel seen. And more importantly — he made you feel safe.

You didn’t know when you started holding his hand without thinking. Or when he stopped pretending you were just a friend.

But one night, when you handed him a sandwich without saying anything, he looked at it, then at you, and smiled that same dumb smile from the first day.

“…You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” you said, nudging him in the ribs. “But if you steal mine again, I’m breaking your legs.”

Mikey laughed — a real, unfiltered laugh — and leaned in close.

“Too late,” he whispered, stealing a bite anyway.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since Mikey had started hanging around you, and things between the two of you had definitely shifted. What started as random encounters — him stealing your food, offering random deep (and often nonsensical) questions, or showing up when you least expected it — turned into something more natural. He’d walk you home, sit next to you at the corner store, and always, always drag you to random places just because he felt like it.

But today, everything changed.

You were walking out of school, talking with Emma about the usual nonsense, when you noticed a guy from your class standing awkwardly near the gate. He was fiddling with his sleeves and looking like he was trying to work up the courage to speak.

You barely had time to process when he finally blurted out, “Hey, uh... I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Would you maybe... wanna go get coffee sometime?”

You blinked. “Um, sure...”

He grinned like he’d just won a prize. “Awesome! How about tomorrow?”

Before you could respond, the sound of roaring engines interrupted the moment. You turned, and there he was — Mikey, effortlessly gliding in on his bike, the wind ruffling his already messy hair as he slowed down in front of you. His eyes locked onto the guy immediately.

“Hey,” Mikey called out, his tone lazy but with a hard edge. The guy visibly tensed.

You watched in mild confusion as Mikey hopped off his bike, walked up to you, and stood way too close for comfort — his shoulder brushing yours like he owned the space between you. “You talkin’ to my girl?” he asked, his eyes flashing toward the guy with that signature smug smile.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Mikey’s sudden arrival and the intense, almost possessive vibe radiating off him. “Uh, I—”

“No need to answer,” Mikey cut him off, already turning to you with a grin. “I’ll take it from here, yeah?”

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the situation. “Mikey, what are you doing?”

“Claiming what’s mine.” He winked at you, hands sliding into his pockets. “I’m picking you up every day now from today, by the way. It’s a Mikey thing.”

The guy looked between you two, clearly out of his depth, and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh, okay, well... I guess I’ll... see you around?”

You sighed, stepping back as Mikey leaned down, resting his chin on your shoulder like he was too comfortable. “Nope,” Mikey called after the guy, giving him a half-hearted wave before turning his attention back to you. “Now, where were we?”

You were still caught off guard. “What just happened?”

Mikey let out a lazy laugh and nudged your shoulder with his. “Nothing much. Just making sure no one else thinks they can steal you away.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You’re mine.”

“Wait, really?” You were still trying to catch up, blinking at him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You were already mine the second you handed me your sandwich. Don’t act like you didn’t know.” He grinned at you. “So... how about it? I’ll walk you home, and then I can take you somewhere nice.”

You tried to suppress your smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it.”

With that, Mikey draped his arm around you and practically dragged you off, leaving the guy standing there, completely forgotten.

And from that day on, you had Mikey’s attention — a lot of it. In his own unique, clingy way, he was all yours.

___________________________________________________________________________

It was almost sunset when the low rumble of engines echoed through the quiet neighborhood, signaling the approach of the Tokyo Manji Gang.

You were already at Musashi Shrine, standing just off the path with Emma. The air smelled like burnt gasoline and cedarwood. Golden light filtered through the trees, catching on the backs of the approaching riders like something out of a movie.

“Look at them,” Emma said with a smirk, nudging your shoulder. “All dramatic and cool.”

“They’re just boys in matching jackets,” you replied, but even you knew it wasn’t true. There was something magnetic about the way they moved together — a reckless kind of unity.

The boys began filing up the steps toward the meeting spot, lining up in their usual formation. You saw Baji throw a punch at someone for a reason only he understood, and Mitsuya adjusting someone’s collar with tired precision.

And then — like clockwork — he found you.

Mikey didn’t walk. He drifted. One second, he was in front of the captains; the next, he was beside you, arms lazily draped over your shoulders like he was trying to become part of your outfit.

“There you are,” he said, like you were the one who’d been missing.

You blinked. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I know.” He leaned closer, tugging you back a step until your back bumped his chest. “But it feels longer when I’m not touching you.”

Emma made a choking noise beside you. “Oh my god.”

You ignored her and tilted your head. “Mikey—”

“Manjiro,” he corrected softly, so close to your ear it sent a little shiver down your neck.

You turned to glance at him, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone. His eyes were half-lidded, that familiar sleepy look — but there was a flicker of something more focused underneath.

“…Manjiro,” you said carefully, testing the sound of it.

His smirk deepened.

Before you could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed a quick, stupidly soft kiss to your lips — right there in front of the whole damn world.

Not rough. Not teasing. Just gentle, quick, and unmistakably his.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He pulled back barely an inch, still close enough that his forehead nearly touched yours. “That’s better,” he murmured.

Emma wheezed. “I’m right here, you two!”

You shoved at his chest, your face suddenly way too warm. “Seriously?! Right before your big gangster meeting?!”

Mikey grinned. “Gives me good luck.”

“You’re gonna make them think I’m distracting you.”

“You are distracting,” he said, absolutely unbothered.

“Manjiro—!”

He kissed your cheek this time, slow and lingering. “Mmh. Say it again.”

“Stop being weird!” you hissed, trying to push him off — but he just hung on tighter, like a very smug, very clingy sloth.

“I like when you call me that,” he said, finally loosening his grip. “Only you, though. Everyone else sounds like a teacher.”

He finally stepped back, his fingers trailing from your hand like he didn’t quite want to let go yet. “Stay where I can see you, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Gonna get jealous if someone makes eye contact with me?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked toward the captains, completely casual — as if he hadn’t just publicly kissed his girlfriend like it was a holy ritual.

Emma leaned in with wide eyes. “So. How does it feel being claimed like territory?”

You smacked her arm. “Shut up.”

__________________________________________________________________________

The sun was starting to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows over the shrine grounds as the Tokyo Manji Gang settled into their usual positions. Mikey, ever the casual leader, was already at the center, chatting with Draken and the other captains. The air around them was tense, full of gang business that you really didn’t want to hear about.

You and Emma were sitting off to the side, legs dangling from the stone platform as you watched the boys talk shop. You could barely make out the words — something about territory and rival gangs — but honestly, the topic wasn’t new. It was the same stuff they always talked about.

Mikey, however, had a different agenda.

You were scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself, when you felt the familiar weight of his jacket being draped over your shoulders. You froze, glancing up just in time to see him flash a lazy grin at you from across the group.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, blinking at him.

“Making sure everyone knows you’re taken,” Mikey replied casually, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned against a tree. “Don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Mikey’s “possessive” side had always been cheeky, but something about his calm expression and the weight of his jacket made it feel more real this time.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He winked. “What? You’re my girl. I gotta make sure they all know.”

Emma, who was sitting next to you, let out a dramatic sigh. “Mikey’s so whipped. It’s kind of adorable.”

“Emma,” you whispered, nudging her with your elbow, but she was already grinning from ear to ear.

Mikey overheard and grinned back at her, giving a half-shrug. “I’m not whipped. I’m just... protective.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Mikey was unpredictable, a wild mix of playful and possessive, but you liked it. You liked him.

As the conversation droned on, you felt your attention starting to wander. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about Toman’s plans, but right now, it was just a bunch of boys talking in circles about turf wars and rival gangs. You glanced at Emma, who was already bored out of her mind.

 “What do you think?” you whispered. “Want to play the game again?”

Emma grinned mischievously. “I’m so in. But let’s make it more interesting.”

You glanced at Mikey, who was still fully engaged in the meeting, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on Baji as he ranted about something. He didn’t notice the playful glint in your eye. Perfect.

“Alright, let’s do it. First question, who’s the most dramatic in Toman?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Emma grinned mischievously. “Baji. No contest.”

You couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, he’s always throwing tantrums like he’s the main character in a soap opera.”

You glanced at Mikey again. He was still oblivious, but you could feel him shifting a little closer to you. That clinginess of his was getting real obvious.

“And... who’s the most secretly emotional?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. You weren’t going for anything too serious, just something fun to see how she’d respond.

Emma tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Draken. He’s always trying to hide it, but you know the guy’s a softie.”

You looked over at Draken, who was standing with his arms folded, looking like the stoic rock of the group. “Hmm, you’re right. You can tell he’s got a heart of gold hidden under all that tough guy exterior.”

“Okay, okay,” Emma continued. “Now... who’s the most likely to cry during a movie?��

You glanced at Mikey, who was fiddling with his phone, sitting back on the stone steps like he owned the place. Without missing a beat, you answered, “Mikey.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really?”

You shrugged. “I mean, have you seen him when he watches a movie? He gets emotional over the smallest things.”

Emma laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You leaned in closer, trying to stifle your laugh. “Alright, next one — who’s the worst cook in Toman?”

This time, Emma didn’t hesitate. “Mikey. He can’t even make toast without burning it.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. “He once tried to make instant ramen, and the kitchen smelled like smoke for hours.”

Emma raised her eyebrows, laughing quietly. “He’s definitely not winning any cooking awards. I bet he doesn’t even know how to make eggs.”

You glanced over at Mikey just as he casually draped his arm over your shoulder again, pulling you closer like he was very aware of what you were talking about. “What are you two gossiping about over here?”

You gave him your most innocent look. “Oh, nothing. Just discussing your many... talents.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed playfully, his lips twitching into a grin. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

You winked at him. “You’re really bad at cooking.”

He feigned shock, but his grin grew. “I can cook just fine, thank you very much. But, I guess if you don’t like my cooking, I’ll just have to feed you from now on.”

“Oh? You’re volunteering?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mikey’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Of course. I’m a man of many talents.” He leaned in a little closer. “You’re gonna love my cooking... or my effort at it.”

Emma stifled a laugh and glanced at you. “I love how he thinks he’s so charming.”

You smirked. “He’s adorable, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to roast him when it comes to the kitchen.”

Mikey gave you a playful nudge, pretending to be offended. “I’m taking this jacket back, then. No more claiming you in front of everyone.”

“Try it, and I’ll keep it,” you shot back, leaning into him.

Mikey’s eyes flicked over to the group briefly, sensing that the meeting was winding down, and then whispered, “I’m not done yet. You can’t escape me.”

You laughed quietly, shifting your focus back to Emma, who was trying to contain her giggles.

“Alright, last question,” you said, winking at Emma. “Who’s most likely to start a fight over something stupid?”

Emma didn’t think twice. “Mikey. Hands down. He’d fight someone for the last piece of candy.”

You blinked at her. “Wait... really?”

Emma shrugged. “I mean, have you seen him when he's hangry?”

You felt Mikey’s grip tighten on your shoulder, a sly grin forming on his face as he overheard the conversation.

“That’s not true,” he said smoothly, leaning down to kiss your temple, his voice suddenly low and teasing. “I’d never fight for candy.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Oh really?”

He winked at you, voice still soft. “Okay, maybe for candy. Or, you know, you. I’d fight anyone for you.”

Before you could retort, the meeting was starting to wrap up, and Mikey shot one last smug look at the gang. He seemed far more interested in you than anything going on in the meeting.

“Guess we’re done here, huh?” Mikey said, standing up and pulling you with him. “Time to take my girl home.”

Emma rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m pretty sure you’re the reason the meeting’s done.”

You laughed as Mikey gave Emma a playful, unbothered grin. “She’s right. You’re welcome.”

You snatched up his jacket and stood up, wrapping it around yourself like a shield from the cold. “And here I thought you were the dramatic one.”

Mikey winked, slinging an arm around you as you both made your way down the stairs. “Who else would do it better?”

Emma shook her head but smiled. “You two are impossible.”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning up at Mikey. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting had finally wrapped up, the last bit of gang business taken care of. Mikey, as always, had been the first to disengage, already bouncing on his heels and ready to drag you away. His arm was still comfortably draped around your shoulders, his fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his jacket, which was now wrapped snugly around you.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, teasing him. He hadn’t even asked you where you wanted to go — it was as if the choice was already made for you.

“Wherever I want, obviously,” Mikey replied, giving you a cheeky grin. “I’m the leader, remember?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on your face. Mikey was so Mikey — goofy, possessive, and absolutely confident. It was hard not to laugh at his antics.

Emma caught up with you both, waving you off with a grin. “I’ll see you two later. Don’t kill each other over lunch or something.”

“You’re welcome to join us!” Mikey called after her, but Emma just laughed and shook her head.

“Nah, I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Enjoy fighting over where to eat.”

You shot Emma a quick look, mouthing “Thanks for the backup” as she walked off, leaving you with Mikey. He was already pulling you in a direction that you couldn’t quite place.

“So, where are we really going?” you asked, a little more curious now.

Mikey just shrugged, leading you through the streets with that same carefree attitude. “Wherever. I don’t know. As long as you’re with me, I’m good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, looking at him sideways. “You really are impossible.”

He glanced over at you, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Impossible? I prefer the term ‘unpredictably fun.’”

You snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Mikey didn’t let up, pulling you into a nearby cafe. It was one of those quiet little places tucked away from the hustle and bustle. He always seemed to know the best spots. Mikey led you straight to the counter, practically ordering for you without asking. The staff knew him by name — of course they did — and they didn’t even bat an eye at his antics.

When you got your food, Mikey insisted on sitting beside you in the most obnoxious, over-the-top way. He draped his arm around the back of your chair like he was marking his territory, then casually placed his drink next to yours, making sure it was as close as humanly possible.

You glanced at him, half amused and half exhausted from his clinginess. “Mikey, really?”

“What?” he asked innocently, as if nothing was unusual. “You’re my girl. I gotta be close.”

You shook your head, but it was impossible to stay mad at him. Even though his possessiveness was overwhelming, it was... endearing. In his own Mikey way, he really cared.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but let the conversation wander back to the game you and Emma had played earlier. Mikey had been half-listening to your banter with Emma, but now he seemed to be picking up on the teasing.

“So, I’m the most dramatic and the worst cook, huh?” he asked, his voice teasing. “I’m hurt.”

You smirked, giving him a sideways glance. “You know, you could’ve at least tried to cook for me.”

Mikey shrugged as he took a sip of his drink. “I’d burn the kitchen down. You’re lucky I just buy you food instead.”

“Well, if you can’t cook, then what is your talent, Mikey?” you teased.

His grin grew wider. “Everything.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “But my real talent is making you happy.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at your lips. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“I know,” Mikey replied, his voice a soft hum. He raised his glass and made a toast with you. “But you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You clinked your glass against his, the light reflecting off the surface as you smiled. “Maybe not.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. It was one of those moments where everything felt right — where Mikey’s energy wasn’t overwhelming, just... comforting.

After a few minutes, Mikey suddenly leaned back in his chair, his gaze turning to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Alright, next round of the game. Who’s the most ridiculous in Toman?”

You smirked, already knowing the answer. “You, obviously.”

Mikey sat up straight, his expression mock-hurt. “Me? Ridiculous? I’ll have you know I’m a pillar of wisdom and sophistication.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure. You’re like a walking disaster waiting to happen.”

He grinned widely. “Exactly. And you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Mikey had a way of making his chaos seem so charming.

The conversation shifted, and Mikey got more playful, asking questions about who could really take him down in a fight, who would survive a zombie apocalypse, and even who in Toman had the worst fashion sense (to which Mikey had been quick to answer, “Definitely me, because I’m too stylish to even handle.”)

But by the end of the day, as the sun began to set, Mikey had you laughing and smiling in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

His clinginess, his silly personality, and his never-ending ability to make you the center of his world — it was impossible not to fall for him even harder.

“So,” Mikey said as you both strolled back toward the familiar streets of your neighborhood, “about that date... I’m taking you out again soon. No excuses.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not letting me say no, are you?”

“Never,” Mikey replied, his voice full of conviction. “You’re mine.”

With that, you laughed, feeling the warmth of his presence wash over you again. “I guess I am.”

And just like that, Mikey claimed you, not just with his words, but with his laughter, his quirky charm, and that clingy little streak of his that made him impossible to resist.

___________________________________________________________________________

The moonlight bled through the half-open curtains, painting the room in soft silver. Everything was still — the house, the street, the city. Except for Mikey.

He couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t anything new. Sometimes the quiet felt too loud in his head, and he’d lie there with his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling and thinking about things he didn’t really like to think about.

But tonight was different. You were there. Curled up in his bed with one of his pillows half-hugged and his gang jacket still wrapped around your shoulders.

He hadn’t meant for you to fall asleep in it. You’d just been hanging around after the shrine meeting, teasing him about his bad cooking and trying to steal the last rice cracker. You’d both ended up watching some old anime on his laptop, but while he was talking at full speed, you’d started nodding off.

Now, the only sound in the room was your quiet breathing.

Mikey turned on his side and watched you for a minute. The jacket looked huge on you — sleeves long enough to cover your hands, the collar a bit too wide, but it was warm and soft and unmistakably his.

A lazy smile crept onto his face.

“You look good in my jacket, y’know that?” he whispered, even though you probably weren’t awake. “Too good, actually. Kinda makes me wanna put another one on you. Just to be sure people really get the message.”

You stirred slightly, murmuring something sleepy and unintelligible, pulling the jacket closer around yourself like a blanket.

Mikey reached out, gently brushing some hair away from your face, voice even softer now. “You’re dangerous, [Name]. You make me soft.”

There wasn’t a trace of teasing in his tone now — just something quieter, more real.

“I could fight a hundred guys with a smile on my face, but the second you look at me like that, I forget how to act.”

His hand hovered near yours, not quite touching, just... close.

“You make this world feel like it’s not so heavy sometimes.”

You shifted again, eyes fluttering open for just a second. “...Manjiro?”

Mikey froze for a second, then leaned in a little with a lopsided smile. “Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You blinked slowly, voice drowsy and muffled. “You’re staring.”

“You’re wearing my jacket,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

You gave him a sleepy look. “...You’re weird.”

Mikey laughed softly under his breath. “Takes one to love one.”

You smiled faintly, eyes already drifting closed again. “You’re clingy...”

“And you like it,” he replied, smug.

Before you could argue, Mikey leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, then one to your lips — soft and careful, as if even half-asleep, you were something precious.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll stay up and guard you from the nightmares.”

You mumbled something about “being dramatic,” but Mikey just smiled and pulled the blanket up around your shoulders, letting you melt back into rest with his jacket wrapped tight around you — the clearest mark that you were his.

And in that quiet room, under the weight of moonlight and his own feelings, Mikey finally let himself breathe a little easier.

___________________________________________________________________________

You felt the shift in the bed before you even opened your eyes.

Mikey had moved. Not far, just enough for you to feel the absence of his warmth next to you. The room was still wrapped in shadows, the sky outside that deep pre-dawn blue that only appeared when the world was holding its breath between night and morning.

You mumbled into your pillow. “Manjiro?”

“Right here,” he answered softly from the edge of the bed, where he was lacing up his boots — already dressed in that half-wrinkled, “I woke up like this” biker look he pulled off way too easily.

You yawned and rolled over slowly, still wrapped in his jacket like a cocoon. “Why are you up? It’s not even light out.”

He turned his head slightly, gave you that small smile — the one that looked like he knew something you didn’t. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You blinked at him. “Again?”

He stood up, walked over to your side, crouching by the bed so he was level with your sleepy face. His hair was a little messy, eyes warm but bright with something restless.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just you and me. City’s empty this early. You’ll like it.”

You snorted, burying your face into his jacket collar. “You know I was planning to skip school today anyway…”

Mikey grinned like that was exactly the answer he’d expected. “So, that’s a yes?”

You let out a long breath, then dragged yourself upright, hair tousled, eyes still a little heavy. “Yeah, okay. Just let me brush my teeth so you don’t crash the bike from second-hand sleep breath.”

He laughed, actually laughed, and leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek before you shuffled toward the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting behind him on his bike, arms wrapped around his waist, the wind already picking up even though the sun hadn’t risen yet. The city was dead quiet, the roads almost too open — like it all belonged to the two of you.

You pressed your cheek against his back, still a little drowsy but content.

“You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to keep me all to yourself?” you asked over the hum of the engine.

Mikey didn’t turn his head, but you could hear the grin in his voice. “Absolutely.”

You chuckled, holding on a little tighter. “Figures.”

As the wind rushed past you and the horizon slowly turned from deep blue to gold, Mikey sped up just a little — not recklessly, but enough to make your heart lift.

The city may have been asleep, but you weren’t.

Not with him.

And in that moment, wrapped in his jacket, hands on his ribs, heartbeat steady against your own — it felt like nothing could touch the two of you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The roar of the engine softened as Mikey finally slowed, pulling the bike to a stop near the edge of the wide riverbank. The sun was just beginning to rise, streaks of orange and pale gold bleeding across the sky like watercolors. The city was still far off in the distance, quiet and untouched.

You blinked against the light, stretching as you climbed off the bike, your fingers brushing against his back for balance.

“Where…?” you started to ask, but Mikey just glanced over his shoulder and gave you a half-smile.

“My favorite spot,” he said. “No one really comes out here. ‘Cept Draken sometimes, but he sleeps more than you do.”

You scoffed. “I don’t sleep that much.”

“You slept through me putting your shoes on,” he deadpanned, clearly amused. “Like a toddler.”

You glared at him, but your sleepy pout only made him grin wider. “Okay, fair.”

The river shimmered under the rising sun, its slow current gliding past with a peaceful rhythm. It wasn’t flashy — just still water, a crumbling concrete ledge, and an old vending machine nearby. But the moment you took a breath and let the quiet sink in, you understood.

There was something healing about it. It felt like time slowed down here.

Mikey sat down on the ledge and patted the space beside him. “C’mere.”

You dropped beside him, pulling his jacket tighter around your frame as the breeze picked up. He was still watching the water, eyes distant but soft.

“This is where I come when everything gets too loud,” he said after a long moment. “Gang stuff, family stuff… even my own thoughts sometimes. Out here, it’s just quiet. Real quiet.”

You nodded, not needing to say anything. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was grounding.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You ever get that too? Just wanna… vanish for a bit?”

You smiled faintly. “All the time. That’s why I said yes to this, even half-asleep.”

He chuckled. “Guess we both needed it, huh?”

Another silence settled in — comfortable, easy — until Mikey turned to face you completely.

“You really do look good in my jacket,” he murmured again, but this time with more meaning behind it. “Like you belong in it. Like you belong with me.”

You tilted your head. “That a confession, Manjiro?”

He grinned. “No, that was a statement. The confession happened when I stole that kiss back at the school.”

You laughed under your breath. “Right. Forgot how bold you are.”

“I’m just honest,” he said, eyes never leaving yours now. “I want you in my life. Every day. In my jacket, on my bike, next to me at meetings — all of it. So yeah, maybe I’m clingy. But I’ve already decided.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused and touched. “Decided what?”

He leaned in just a little, voice low but firm. “That you’re mine.”

There it was again — Mikey’s bluntness. He never said things halfway. But his voice carried something steadier now. No joke, no teasing — just truth.

You looked at him for a moment, heart a little full, then gently rested your head on his shoulder.

“Took you long enough to say it like that,” you whispered.

Mikey let out a soft breath of a laugh, his arm coming around your waist. “Yeah, yeah. I get there eventually.”

You stayed like that for a while, watching the sun rise over the water, wrapped in his warmth, the silence holding you both in place. And even though the world would get loud again — school, gang drama, real life — this moment was yours.

Just you and Mikey, where it was quiet.

Where everything made sense.

___________________________________________________________________________

You were both quiet again, the sun now fully risen and casting a warm, golden glow across the water. Mikey’s arm was still lazily draped around your waist, and your head rested lightly against his shoulder. It was one of those rare, slow mornings where the whole world seemed to hush just for you two.

Then, softly—almost like it slipped out—Mikey murmured, “I wanna marry you someday.”

You blinked, lifting your head slightly to see if he was joking. But he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was still fixed on the water, eyes unreadable for a second. There was no smirk, no laugh waiting behind his lips. Just quiet certainty.

“I mean it,” he continued, a little softer now. “Not right away or anything. Just… I’ve never really thought about the future like that. Not until you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. He didn’t say things like this often — not without a joke in his tone, not without that cheeky grin. But now he was just... honest. Serious in a way that made your breath catch.

You looked down for a second, cheeks flushing with warmth you couldn’t hide even if you wanted to. Then you smiled, wide and real, and reached for his hand.

“I can’t wait for that,” you whispered, eyes shining. “You, me, someday? That sounds perfect.”

Mikey finally looked at you then — and he beamed. Like he’d just won the world’s biggest prize. He kissed your hand, then stood up and offered his, the jacket falling perfectly into place over your shoulders again.

“Come on,” he said, that teasing sparkle returning to his eyes. “Let’s get breakfast. Or whatever meal it is when you skip school before it even starts.”

You laughed, taking his hand. “Sounds like a plan, fiancé.”

His grin? Dangerous.

“You better not say that around Draken. He’ll faint.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You were walking back through a narrow side street, heading toward a place Mikey swore had the “best melonpan in Tokyo,” when you turned a corner and—

“Oi,” a rough voice called out. “That jacket…”

You both paused.

A small group of older teens — four, maybe five guys — loitered near the vending machines, all wearing mismatched leather and chains. They weren’t Toman. Not even close.

One of them, clearly the leader, stepped forward with a sneer.

“That’s the Tokyo Manji Gang’s uniform, isn’t it?” he said, looking straight at you. “Don’t tell me they’ve got little girlfriends doing their laundry now.”

Mikey didn’t flinch. But he did step just slightly to the side, like he was getting ready to put himself between you and them.

You placed a hand lightly on his arm.

“I got this,” you said calmly.

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged off his jacket slowly, folded it once, and handed it to him. Then you stepped forward, cracking your knuckles.

The leader scoffed. “What the hell are you—?”

You moved before he could finish the sentence — ducking low, sweeping his legs out with a sharp, practiced kick. He hit the ground with a surprised grunt, and before the others could even react, you’d already dropped two more with precise, fluid strikes.

Mikey stood there — wide-eyed, holding his own jacket — watching as you took out the last guy with a clean elbow to the gut and a twist that sent him sprawling.

You brushed your hands off casually, turned, and walked back to him like it was nothing.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping his jacket back on, still a little breathless. “Didn’t wanna get it dirty.”

Mikey stared at you.

Then blinked.

Then grinned — slow and completely floored.

“…Okay,” he said, sounding slightly dazed. “That was… hot.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand again. “Come on, melonpan, remember?”

He followed you wordlessly for a moment, then muttered under his breath, “I have to marry you.”

You just smiled to yourself, tugging him along.

___________________________________________________________________________

The smell of warm melonpan filled the air as you and Mikey sat down at a small, nearly-empty café just outside the neighborhood. The place had a cozy, nostalgic feel — the kind of place that wasn’t flashy, just serving good food. Mikey slouched a little in his seat, looking content, but there was still something in his eyes — a curiosity that hadn’t left since the moment you’d knocked out those guys in the alley.

You sipped your drink, watching him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Mikey leaned forward, his eyes wide with genuine interest. “You really didn’t even break a sweat. And it wasn’t like you were messing around either. You took ‘em down like… you’ve done it a thousand times.”

You bit your lip, setting your cup down. “I’ve had my share of… situations. You know, self-defense stuff.”

He nodded slowly, his face softening. “Yeah, but... why didn’t you tell me?”

You smiled a little, leaning back in your chair. “I guess I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Important?” Mikey leaned in, voice getting a little more intense. “You kicked their asses! You’re not just some random girl in my life, [Name]. You’re, well, you’re my girl and I… don’t like people messing with you.”

You felt your heart flutter a bit at the possessiveness in his voice. Even if it came across a bit bluntly, you knew it came from a good place.

“Don’t worry, I can handle myself,” you teased, “But I’ll keep the really big fights for you.”

Mikey paused for a moment, his eyes softening, and he grinned. “I’m still amazed. Like… that was amazing. Seriously, I wasn’t even expecting that.”

You laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed, but also proud of your skills. “You never asked, Mikey. You just assumed I couldn’t take care of myself.”

He pouted for a second, clearly teasing. “Well, I’m a little slow sometimes.”

“Just a little?” You raised an eyebrow, and Mikey burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, a lot. But still, that was so cool,” he said, still looking at you in awe. “I gotta say, I like knowing you’ve got my back, even when I don’t see it coming.”

“Well,” you smiled softly, “we’re in this together. Always.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The shrine was the usual spot for Toman meetings — surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the stone steps and the rising mist from the morning dew. The gang was already gathering, sitting on the steps and the edge of the stone platforms, awaiting Mikey’s arrival.

The air was cool, the distant sound of city life buzzing in the background, but at this time of morning, the world felt quiet. Almost serene, in a way.

You had arrived with Mikey, still wearing his jacket, your presence drawing a few curious glances from the gang as you approached.

Mikey seemed unbothered by it. If anything, he was grinning, his arm slung casually over your shoulder. His pride was practically radiating off of him, and you could tell he was practically bursting to share what had happened earlier.

“Alright, alright,” Mikey began as you both reached the group, a playful edge to his voice. “So, before we get into anything important… I gotta say something.”

Draken, sitting at the top of the stairs, shot Mikey a look. “What now?”

“I’ve gotta introduce you guys to the best fighter in the gang.” Mikey’s grin was mischievous. “The one who wiped the floor with five random punks today. [Name].”

There was a beat of silence before everyone burst out into laughter. Takemichi, ever the worried one, was the first to speak.

“You’re joking, right? There’s no way—”

Mikey’s grin only widened. “No joke. She took them down like she was born for it.”

The others turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief, and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “It wasn’t a big deal, guys. Just some guys talking crap.”

Draken, not one to back down from a challenge, raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re telling me you just knocked out five guys?”

You shrugged, feeling the nervous tension of all their stares. “I’ve had some training, that’s all.”

Emma, who had tagged along after your girls’ trip, chuckled as she leaned against a nearby pillar. “She’s being modest.”

“Self-defense, huh?” Mitsuya asked, clearly intrigued, eyeing you with a mix of respect and curiosity. “That’s impressive.”

You gave a slight nod. “Yeah, well, I’ve had to learn a few things. Just in case.”

The air shifted slightly — more respect, more admiration — and even Draken gave you an approving nod. “Guess we’ve got a real badass on our hands.”

Mikey, still standing next to you, looked absolutely thrilled. His eyes sparkled as he turned to the group. “You guys know how I like my gang, right? Strong, loyal, but also…” He let the words hang in the air, his grin widening. “...Not afraid to kick some ass. And now we’ve got a legit fighter on our side.”

The boys seemed impressed, and as the conversation moved forward, Mikey’s pride never seemed to wane. He kept leaning closer to you, occasionally nudging you with his elbow or stealing a glance at you, like he couldn’t stop showing off his girl.

It wasn’t long before Mikey finally sat down, pulling you onto the step beside him.

The gang had fallen into their usual chatter, but Mikey’s attention was still on you, his fingers lightly brushing against your hand. You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’ve really been riding the high from this, huh?”

Mikey grinned, looking almost like a kid on Christmas. “You’re my girl. Of course I’m proud.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was warm from his excitement. “I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.”

“Well, you didn’t have to,” Mikey said, his voice low but with that familiar cheekiness. “You’ve already impressed me.”

Before you could respond, Draken walked over, looking between you both with that big, knowing grin on his face.

“Alright, Mikey,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got your fighter. Now we just gotta keep her from running the whole damn gang, huh?”

The others, who had gathered near the steps, started chuckling.

Mikey just smirked, his eyes never leaving you. “Nah. She’s just gonna make sure no one messes with us.”

You shot Mikey a playful look. “You’re really not going to let this go, huh?”

“Not a chance,” Mikey said, squeezing your hand gently.

___________________________________________________________________________

As the meeting began to progress, more questions started popping up. The group was still buzzing about your fight. You hadn’t expected this kind of attention, but it was fun to see everyone’s reactions.

“Alright, but seriously, what kind of training are we talking about here?” Takemichi asked, leaning in as if trying to figure out your secret. “You can’t just become that good overnight.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Boxing, some martial arts… a little bit of everything. Just wanted to make sure I can protect myself.”

Emma, always the one with a mischievous edge, nudged you with a smile. “You know, Mikey’s a little territorial, huh? Think he’ll keep the boys in line for you?”

“Stop it, Emma,” Mikey grumbled, though his eyes were still twinkling as he shot a look at you. “I don’t need to keep anyone in line. Not when she’s got it handled.”

Draken just shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “You guys are something else. Never thought I’d see Mikey all proud of his girl like this.”

Mikey puffed out his chest, not in arrogance but in pure pride. “She’s not just any girl. She’s my girl.”

The entire group seemed to settle into a comfortable quiet, respect mingling with that familiar teasing atmosphere. Mikey wasn’t just proud of you for your strength. It was everything you were — the way you fit into Toman, how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic world, yet still stood out. And Mikey? He was absolutely, unapologetically in love with that.

You leaned into his shoulder, letting the peaceful quiet settle around you again.

"Guess we're all in this together now," you murmured, a slight grin tugging at your lips.

"Always," Mikey said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now, let’s get this meeting over with.

__________________________________________________________________________

The meeting had officially fallen apart.

It started small — just you and Emma whispering to each other at the edge of the group while Draken tried his best to keep the meeting serious. But then you laughed. Loud enough that heads turned.

That’s when Mikey narrowed his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, lounging beside you but already suspicious.

Emma leaned over, hand cupped around her mouth. “We’re playing ‘Toman Superlatives.’”

“...What?”

You grinned. “It’s like… ‘who would survive a zombie apocalypse,’ or ‘who has main character energy.’ That kinda thing.”

“You’re doing this during my meeting?”

“It’s Draken’s meeting,” Emma corrected.

Draken, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want it either.”

“Carry on,” Mikey said, waving a hand like a bored emperor — but leaning closer like he very much wanted to hear your answers.

Emma smirked. “Okay, okay—next one. Who’s most likely to cry at a sad movie?”

You pointed. “Takemichi.”

“WHY ME?!” Takemichi shouted from the sidelines.

Everyone nodded.

“Okay but true,” Chifuyu said, patting his back. “You cried at Spirited Away, bro.”

“It was emotional!” Takemichi protested.

Emma grinned. “Alright, who gives the best hugs?”

You tapped your chin, eyes flicking across the group. “Draken. He’s tall and warm. I feel like he smells nice.”

Draken blinked. “...Thanks?”

Mikey’s head whipped toward you. “Excuse me?!”

“You don’t smell like anything, Mikey,” you said sweetly.

“I smell like power and mystery,” he deadpanned.

“Power and mystery smells like gasoline and melon bread,” you teased.

The gang cackled. Even Draken cracked a smile.

Emma was dying, holding onto your arm. “Okay, okay—this one’s good. Who would be the most dramatic if their crush didn’t text back right away?”

Everyone pointed at Mikey.

He looked personally offended. “ME?! I don’t even text! I show up.”

“Exactly,” you said. “You showed up at my classroom window once because I didn’t answer.”

“You left me on read,” he said defensively.

“It was five minutes, Mikey.”

“Too long.”

More laughter rippled through the gang, and for once, even Mitsuya chuckled behind his usual calm smile.

Emma leaned in again, eyes twinkling. “Who’s most likely to flirt without realizing it?”

“Smiley,” you and Emma said in sync.

“He absolutely knows what he’s doing,” Mitsuya added. “He just pretends he doesn’t.”

Smiley raised his hands innocently. “I’m charming. It’s a problem.”

Mikey leaned toward you again. “Okay, your turn. Who would you call first if you were in trouble?”

You paused.

The teasing faded for just a second. You looked at Mikey — the way he was watching you, clearly waiting for the answer.

Your smile softened. “You.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“You’d be there in a second,” you said. “No questions asked. No matter what.”

The silence that followed was warm. No one teased. No one joked.

Mikey’s expression relaxed, his cheeky energy softening just enough to let the affection shine through.

“Damn right,” he said quietly, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his jacket up on you again. “That’s what you’ve got me for.”

Emma leaned against you, smiling. “Okay, but you still didn’t pick him for hottest.”

“I am the hottest,” Mikey muttered.

“Still Mitsuya,” you said under your breath.

“I heard that!”

The boys laughed again, and you nestled into Mikey’s side, his arm curling around your waist like it was second nature.

The meeting may have started serious, but this — these moments, with jokes, teasing, and your fingers brushing against his — this was what family felt like in Toman.

And you were finally, completely part of it.

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting finally broke apart, boys peeling off in pairs, loud voices fading into the evening air as they headed toward their bikes. You and Mikey lingered behind, walking down the long stone steps with his hand loosely curled around your wrist.

He hadn’t said much since the game ended.

That should’ve been your first clue.

You glanced at him — he wasn’t pouting exactly, but his mouth was pressed in that little line it made when he was pretending something didn’t bother him. His eyes were fixed ahead, lashes low, but you could feel the shift in energy like static.

“…You good?”

“Yep.”

Liar.

You stepped in front of him, halting him just before the last step. “You’re mad I didn’t say you were the hottest, aren’t you?”

He looked away with exaggerated disinterest. “I said I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Manjirō.”

He finally looked at you — pout fully formed now. “I’m your boyfriend and you said Mitsuya.”

You tried not to smile. “Because Mitsuya is handsome.”

“Yeah, but I’m me,” he said, as if that alone should’ve won every category. “Your me.”

You laughed softly, stepping closer and brushing his hair back from his eyes. “You want me to kiss it better?”

His ears turned pink. “...Maybe.”

So you did.

Right there on the bottom step, you leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the corner of his pouty mouth — then another, right on his lips. Slow and warm and full of something that made his hand tighten around your wrist again.

When you pulled back, his cheeks were a little red.

“Better?” you whispered.

He hummed. “One more. Just in case.”

You laughed again, but gave it to him — and this time, he pulled you with him as he turned and walked toward his bike, hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist like he wasn’t letting go ever again.

His motorbike was leaned against a tree near the edge of the shrine path, moonlight glinting off the chrome. You’d barely turned your head to look at it before Mikey tugged you in, sitting on the seat and pulling you between his legs with ease.

You rested your hands on his shoulders. “We’re not going yet, are we?”

“Nah,” he mumbled, arms sliding around your waist. “Just wanna sit with you.”

He leaned forward, head pressing to your stomach, sighing like he’d finally gotten what he wanted. Your fingers threaded through his hair automatically, soft and slow.

“You’re really that offended?”

“I’m not offended,” he muttered into your hoodie. “I just wanted you to say I’m hot.”

“You’re hot,” you said without missing a beat.

“Too late.”

“Mikey.”

He looked up, chin resting against your ribs. “I forgive you,” he said seriously. “But only if you ride with me tomorrow.”

You grinned. “Was planning to.”

His smile softened, hands still locked around your waist, holding you there like you might float away.

“You look good like this,” he said quietly. “With my jacket. With me.”

Your heart stuttered — again. He always did that. Just when you thought he was done being serious, he slipped in something so soft it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“I like being yours, y’know,” you whispered.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

You bent down, kissed his forehead gently. “Yeah.”

He looked like he was trying not to smile too wide — but failing.

“Then stay a little longer.”

You didn’t need to answer. You just curled into his lap, his jacket big enough to cover you both from the cool night air, the sounds of engines echoing in the distance, and the warmth of Mikey’s arms around you making the shrine feel like your own little world.

___________________________________________________________________________

The sky was still painted in sleepy pinks and quiet oranges when your phone buzzed.

[Mikey💀] "Outside. Get on. We’re skipping school."

You blinked at the message, then peeked out your window.

There he was.

Leaning against his prized motorbike, arms crossed, the wind tossing his blond hair slightly, looking way too proud of himself for someone who probably hadn’t slept more than four hours. His uniform jacket hung lazily off his shoulders, and his helmet dangled from two fingers like a promise.

Of trouble. And something softer.

You didn’t even hesitate.

By the time you slipped out your door, Mikey’s eyes lit up like you were the sunrise itself.

He held out the helmet immediately. “You took too long. I almost came up and carried you out.”

“You would’ve,” you said flatly.

“I should’ve,” he said, helping you clip the strap under your chin, his fingers brushing your jaw like he had to touch you.

“Where are we going?”

He smirked. “Wherever you want. But first, we ride.”

On the Road – Wind and Freedom

There was something about riding with Mikey that didn’t feel like real life. Maybe it was the way he drove — fast but sure, reckless but safe in his own weird way. Maybe it was the way the city blurred past, or how your arms fit perfectly around his middle, your cheek pressed against his back.

But most of all, it was the silence between you — warm, unspoken understanding that didn’t need filling.

The city faded. The buildings shrank. And then you reached it.

The Waterfront – His Favorite Place

The same quiet spot from before — the wide edge of the river where the world seemed to pause. The water stretched out smooth and silver under the early morning light, and the breeze was gentle, lifting Mikey’s hair as he cut the engine.

He parked, leaned the bike gently down, and held your hand as you hopped off — not letting go even when you were both standing.

“This place’s been mine forever,” he said softly, tugging you with him toward the edge. “But now it feels like it’s yours too.”

You smiled. “You always bring me to the quiet places.”

He looked at you — really looked. “You’re my quiet place.”

Your heart squeezed.

Then, as if he realized how serious that sounded, he added quickly, “And because you're hot. I wanna keep you where no one else sees you.”

You shoved his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m yours,” he said smugly, sitting on the concrete ledge and pulling you into his lap without even asking.

You settled there, warm in the morning sun, his arms wound lazily around your waist again.

“You’re clingier than usual.”

He nodded against your shoulder. “Didn’t get enough time with you last night.”

You tilted your head. “We sat on your bike for almost two hours.”

“And it still wasn’t enough.”

You kissed the top of his head, your fingers playing with his hair.

He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded with sleep and affection. “Marry me.”

You blinked. “You’re doing this again?”

He grinned. “I meant it. Sooner or later, I’m locking you down.”

You leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure — then pulled back just far enough to whisper, “Then I hope it’s sooner.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The breeze rolled in gentle waves, brushing across your skin like a whisper. Mikey rested his head on your shoulder, legs dangling over the concrete ledge where the river lapped below. For a long moment, he was quiet. Not out of awkwardness — just content.

But you could feel something stirring beneath the stillness.

He was thinking.

You didn’t rush him. Not with Mikey. When he was ready, he spoke.

“…Y’know when I was a kid,” he started, voice low, “I thought I had to be the strongest person alive.”

You turned your head slightly, eyes on his profile.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“I thought if I wasn’t strong… I’d lose everything. My brother. My gang. My people. So I decided I’d never show fear. Never slow down. Just keep pushing.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak. Letting him be.

He shifted slightly, arms still around your waist but his hands resting in his lap now.

“But you…” he said, almost like he was thinking out loud. “You don’t ask me to be strong. Or scary. You don’t even look at me like that.”

You swallowed. “Like what?”

“Like the rest of them do,” he said, glancing at you. “Like I’m some kind of unstoppable thing.”

You tilted your head. “You are strong, Mikey. But you’re also… kind. And funny. And stubborn. And incredibly dramatic.”

He smirked a little at that.

“And when you’re with me,” you continued, brushing your thumb across his knuckles, “you don’t have to be anything. Not the Invincible Mikey. Not the leader. Just… Manjirō.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he leaned in slowly and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s why I wanna marry you someday,” he murmured. “Not just ‘cause I love you. But ‘cause with you… I’m not afraid to just be me.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a second heartbeat.

You kissed him, soft and slow and full of every unspoken promise.

When you pulled back, you smiled against his lips. “Then I’ll wait for that day. As long as you want. I’m already yours, Manjirō.”

His arms slid tight around you again, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face into your neck with a sigh.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” he mumbled.

You rested your chin on his head. “Yeah. As long as you need.”

And so you sat — wrapped in each other, in the quiet, in the safety of being seen — as the river flowed and the morning sun painted the world golden.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been quiet for a while.

The kind of warm, sleepy silence only people who are deeply comfortable with each other can share. The sky was fully awake now, soft blue stretching above you, while the city remained distant, forgotten.

Mikey still had you wrapped up in his arms on his lap, chin tucked onto your shoulder like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

And then, out of nowhere—

“Okay. So if we had twins…”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Mikey said, completely casual, like you’d been having this conversation. “If we had twins. A boy and a girl.”

You turned to look at him. “Where is this coming from?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “I think we’d make cute babies. It’s a valid thought.”

Your face burned. “Mikey—”

“Manjirō,” he corrected smugly.

You lightly smacked his chest. “You’re skipping way too many steps.”

He leaned his chin in his hand dramatically. “Don’t act like you didn’t just promise to marry me.”

You laughed, trying to hide your flustered smile. “Okay, fine. Twins. What are their names?”

“Glad you asked,” he said, sitting up straighter like he’d been waiting for this. “For the boy—Shin.”

“…Shin?”

“After Shinichiro. But just ‘Shin.’ Cool and strong. Simple. Like, ‘Oh no, Shin’s mad again.’ That kind of vibe.”

Your heart clenched a little at the mention of his brother, but the fondness in his voice made you smile.

“That’s actually… really sweet.”

“I know.” Then he grinned. “And for the girl…”

“Oh no.”

“Her name’s gonna be Pudding.”

You choked.

“Mikey—!”

“Manjirō,” he said again, grinning wider.

“You are not naming our child Pudding.”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “It’s cute. She’d be cute. Everyone loves pudding.”

You gave him your best unimpressed stare.

“…Fine,” he said with a fake sigh. “I’ll compromise. Her nickname can be Pudding. Her full name can be something like… Hikari. Or Yuzu.”

You blinked. “Yuzu’s really cute…”

He lit up. “Right?! Yuzu and Shin. Boom. Perfect.”

“Shin and Yuzu,” you repeated under your breath, testing the way it sounded. “That’s actually… adorable.”

Mikey leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky with the most self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Told you. I’m a genius.”

You glanced at him, at the messy hair and the way the morning light caught on his lashes, at the soft curve of his grin and the boyish glint in his eye.

“…You’d actually be a good dad,” you said, quieter than you meant to.

His smirk faded into something gentler.

“Only ‘cause I’d have you,” he said.

And just like that, the teasing melted back into something warmer. Realer.

He pulled you back into his lap again, hugging you like you were already his future, not just his present.

And maybe… you were.

___________________________________________________________________________

The same riverbank.

Years had passed, but Mikey still liked to come here. Still parked his bike at the edge of the slope, still kicked back with his hands behind his head, like he was king of the world and the sky existed just to amuse him.

But now, the boy was a man.

Still lazy-eyed and sun-touched, still with wind in his hair and that devil-may-care smirk — but something in him was more solid now. A spine of quiet strength. Eyes that had seen a little more but lost less. This time, he’d held onto what mattered.

And what mattered… was currently leaning her head on his shoulder, laughing at one of his stupid jokes.

You.

“You remember the first time I dragged you out here?” he asked, voice low but grinning.

“Dragged? I remember you begged me for a bike ride because you couldn’t sleep.”

“I did not beg,” he scoffed. “I persuaded.”

“Sure, Manjirō.”

He smirked, then nudged your temple with his own. “You were so nervous that night.”

“You tried to name our imaginary daughter Pudding.”

“She’s still on the list.”

You laughed, and for a while, you both just watched the river shimmer. The way it had back then. Before everything got bigger. Before Toman became a name whispered in every back alley with both fear and awe. Before Mikey became a living legend.

But with you, he was still the same dork who stole your fries and your heart.

So when he shifted beside you and said, “Close your eyes,” you did.

No questions. Just trust.

You felt him move. Heard the rustle of fabric. Then silence.

And then:

“Okay. Open.”

You turned — and your breath caught.

Mikey was sitting cross-legged in front of you, holding a ring between his fingers like it wasn’t heavy with meaning. Like it was just a ring. But his eyes… told a different story.

He wasn’t nervous.

He was glowing.

“I’m not gonna do some long speech,” he said. “I think you already know.”

He reached forward, gently taking your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was trying to memorize them again.

“I love you. Like, idiotically much. Always have. Always will. I wanna eat breakfast with you every morning, and argue about baby names, and hold your hand when we’re eighty and I’ve got bad knees and saggy cheeks.”

You let out a teary laugh, but he was dead serious now.

“I wanna be your husband,” he said. “Not someday. Now.”

Then, softly:

“Marry me.”

The words settled between you like sunlight — warm and real and undeniable.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes. Manjirō… yes.”

And that was it. He slipped the ring on like he’d always known where it belonged. Then pulled you in, kissed you like the world could end right there and he’d still be smiling.

Afterward, still holding you against his chest, he whispered:

“You’re gonna look so good in my last name.”

___________________________________________________________________________

If you thought being Mikey’s girlfriend was eventful, being his fiancée was like trying to plan a royal wedding during a gang meeting.

Which, unfortunately… was kind of exactly what it turned into.

You told Emma first — of course you did.

The moment you showed her the ring, her scream echoed across the café.

“HE FINALLY DID IT?!”

You barely had time to nod before she threw her arms around you, squealing like she’d just won the lottery. Which, to be fair, she kind of felt like she had.

“I’m going to plan everything,” she declared, already grabbing napkins to sketch ideas. “No—Mitsuya and I are going to plan everything. You’re going to have the most beautiful wedding Tokyo has ever seen.”

“Emma, I love you, but I don’t want to wear something with feathers and glitter—”

“Tasteful glitter,” she corrected.

Later, you told the rest of Toman at a casual gathering Mikey claimed would be “lowkey.”

Spoiler: it was not lowkey.

Mikey, with his usual subtlety, dropped the news mid-lunch like, “Oh yeah, I proposed. She said yes. Pass the soy sauce.”

Takemichi nearly choked on his noodles.

Smiley and Angry immediately started arguing about who would cry first at the wedding.

Draken just smirked and clapped Mikey on the back. “About time.”

Mitsuya pulled out a notebook. “When’s the fitting?”

You turned to Mikey. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted a big wedding.”

He shrugged, completely shameless. “Didn’t think you’d say no. Besides, if you did, we’d just ride off somewhere and do it alone.”

Everyone laughed—except you, because you knew he meant it.

__________________________________________________________________________

Your phone buzzed that night. A text from Mikey.

“You still wanna do this, right?”

You smiled, heart warm.

“Absolutely. Why?”

“Dunno. Just… can’t believe I get to marry you.”

You bit your lip, feeling the butterflies stir.

“You’re soft.”

“Only for you.”

“Go to sleep, Manjirō.”

“Can’t. Too excited.”

You stared at his last message for a moment. Then texted back:

“Me too.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The sun was golden over the shrine, soft and slow as it spilled across the worn stone steps. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, the air filled with faint traces of incense and the rustle of silk. It was traditional, timeless — just like Mikey wanted it.

Just like he always dreamed.

He stood with his hands tucked in the sleeves of his black montsuki, embroidered in silver with the Tokyo Manji insignia hidden within the family crest on the back. His hair was loose today, a little windswept, soft strands falling over his eyes.

He looked calm. He looked ready.

But his thumb was brushing circles against the inside of his sleeve.

Draken leaned in from behind him. “You nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” Mikey said.

“You’re twitching.”

“I’m not twitching,” he said. Then blinked. “…Okay. Maybe a little.”

Draken smirked. “Good. Means you actually care.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it.

He was nervous.

Because you were everything.

___________________________________________________________________________

You were standing in front of the mirror as Emma adjusted the delicate hairpin at the side of your head, a deep breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“Okay, look at me,” she said, stepping back. “You are… breathtaking.”

You turned, eyes wide and shimmering. The white uchikake you wore shimmered with a subtle pattern of cranes and chrysanthemums — hand-sewn by Mitsuya, of course — and your obi was fastened in a delicate lotus bow, soft pink threading woven into it for good luck.

“Emma,” you whispered. “It’s really happening.”

She smiled, misty-eyed. “I know. He’s really doing it. You broke the curse, you know?”

You blinked. “Curse?”

“The Manjiro ‘never-gonna-marry-because-he-says-he’s-married-to-his-bike’ curse. You shattered it.”

You both laughed, clutching each other’s hands tightly.

Then, the doors opened.

The shrine was quiet — not tense, just reverent.

Toman members lined both sides of the main path in formal black. No one cracked jokes. Even Smiley looked serious. Even Baji’s ghost, if he were there, would’ve stayed quiet out of respect.

Because when Mikey turned and saw you walking toward him — radiant, sure, the very image of love and calm and everything he’d never deserved but somehow got — the whole world stilled.

His breath caught.

His heart ached in the best way.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Draken nudged him.

“You look like a kid who just got all the candy.”

He ignored him.

Because you had reached him. You were standing in front of him. You were about to become his wife.

And Mikey, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel like the leader of anything.

He just felt yours.

The priest read the words. You exchanged sake cups. You bowed together before the altar.

And when Mikey turned to face you again, his voice was soft — but his words landed like thunder.

“I was a storm before you,” he said, not caring about tradition. “But you… you make me want peace. Every day. And I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this.”

You didn’t even try to stop the tears. You smiled through them.

“I already feel like your wife,” you whispered. “But I’m so, so happy to be it in name too.”

He kissed you then — traditional timing be damned — and the crowd broke into quiet, reverent cheers.

Toman, at his back.

His future, in his arms.

___________________________________________________________________________

The room was quiet.

Not silent — the sound of water in the garden beyond the sliding doors still trickled peacefully, and the soft rustle of silk and linen moved as Mikey sat behind you, undoing the intricate layers of your wedding attire with slow, careful hands.

Neither of you had spoken much since the reception ended.

He didn’t need to.

The moment you stepped through the door of the traditional inn he’d chosen — away from the speeches, the dancing, the playful shouting of drunk Toman boys — Mikey had taken your hand and held it like it was the only thing grounding him to the earth.

“You’re really mine now,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder.

You turned in his arms, hands against his chest. “I was always yours, Manjirō.”

He looked at you like he still couldn’t believe it. Like even now, after everything, you were a dream he hadn’t quite earned. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the last traces of makeup, the last glitter from Emma’s wild ceremony touch-ups.

“You looked beautiful today,” he said. “But not as beautiful as you do right now.”

You smiled, eyes shining. “You said that during the vows.”

“I meant it then, too.”

And then, softly:

“Can I hold you? Like… really hold you?”

You nodded, and the two of you lay down together on the futon. No rush. No urgency.

Just the weight of forever, finally within reach.

He kissed you slow. Not like the goofy kisses he’d steal at the shrine, or the teasing ones on your neck during bike rides. This was different. Intentional. Reverent.

He kissed you like a vow.

Fingers laced with yours. Arms around your waist. His voice in your ear, quiet and slightly rough:

“You’re my home.”

Morning came gently.

He was already awake, blinking at the ceiling with your hand resting over his bare chest, thumb twitching slightly in your sleep.

He glanced at you.

His wife.

His light.

His everything.

“Still here,” he murmured, smiling faintly.

You stirred, squinting at him. “Where else would I go?”

Mikey grinned, leaning in to steal a lazy, sleepy kiss. “Just checking.”

The years ahead stretched out wide and open — with Toman standing strong, with people he trusted at his side, and with you curled up next to him in his arms. For once, the future didn’t look heavy.

It looked like peace.

It looked like breakfast together in oversized shirts and soft hair and his jacket hanging next to your coat on the wall. Like you teasing him for talking in his sleep. Like picking baby names again on the balcony in the evening. Like safety.

And every now and then — when the world outside got loud — he’d pull you close and murmur in your ear like he did on the first night:

“Say it again.”

And you would.

“I love you, Manjirō.”

Always.

[appleblueberry-pie]

I LOVE your atsv yandere things.

I dont know if ypu accept oneshot of headcanons but I would live like both Miles going yandere over Reader, a Reader that maybe died in both universes and i was kinda Miles' foult in both.

So when they found the only version of Reader that is alive, is a version that never met Miles, but she does not change at all, the same lovely Reader so....yeah, they make a truce to i teract with them, trying to make their world around both Miles , under the excuse of peotection.

I would live to see that dinamic if youre okay with it <3

My Eye Can Only See Certain Color

You didn't know what the universe tried to tell you when two boys, same name, same face and same age as you, both tried to claim their love for you.

Miles, a soft face and afro, promised to keep you safe and would never do you wrong. Said that you were meant to be with him since he found you first.

Miles G, structured and firmer face, tight and neat braids complimenting his face, told you it must've been his sign to start over since he found you once more.

Neither wanted to share, neither wanted to see the other touching, holding, smiling or even being near what they saw as theirs. But you're the last standing choice they have. And neither would let anything get in their way of having you again.

It was more complicated than you thought. And even then, you still didn't know what to think. You were so confused. It was summer break, and these two boys came into your life promising you whatever you wanted. It felt like there was another part of this story they weren't telling you.

It was already confusing enough that they continuously corrected you on the assumption that they never knew each other just a few days ago and weren't from the same home. You didn't know how to feel about it all.

Miles often talks about his every day life. He likes to tell you about his action figures, his drawings, his dad, his mom, his school life, stuff he'll do when he finishes school, and something else he said he "wishes he could tell you" but it "doesn't matter". He asks you to take him around your city, and tells you about certain spots he's familiar with.

Miles G likes hearing you talk about yourself. He loves to sit close to you, hold your hand and rub your arm slowly while you talk, staring deep into your eyes as you speak. It feels so...natural when he does it, but you didn't know him until not too long ago. He likes going out to the rooftop with you to feel the bitter cold bite his cheeks. You don't get why he likes it, but he just gives you a relaxed look as you shiver, and tells you it clears his mind. He doesn't speak much about his home life. But he tells you about his mom, about his dad that passed, his uncle, doesn't say anything about other stuff and keeps other information from you that you think might be similar to what Miles didn't want to tell you.

Miles gets stomach aches whenever he hears you got cat called on the street. Or if you almost got snatched or robbed when you're out alone. His tummy twists and turns and bothers him until it's 1 in the morning and he's forcing the suit on, doing rounds around the city to make sure the city is clear of any robbers or men lurking with knives, anything that could possibly hurt his girl.

Sometimes, you hold back from telling Miles G if anything happened, because his face twists into one you've never seen before. A stone cold look directly into your eyes. It made you flinch the first time he did it, and made him snap out of it when he realized he was scaring you. He promised you he wouldn't let a damn thing happen to you, not his baby. And if anything happened to you, then to call him immediately.

Both treat you nicely. You don't know where they came from, how they found you and why they want you. But they told you they love you. Do you believe it? Yes. And it is hard for you to accept since this all happened so suddenly. But...you don't think they'll leave anytime soon.

A/N: Y'all, it's been a minute and i'm a little rusty. But I think this is a good oneshot post for not writing in like.....idk how many months, lol.

[walkersbeloved]

Hi! Just saw you last post abt Simon. Maybe you have some thoughts on Neil boys (Mostly Simon and Nikolai, but everyone is nice!) end up injured really heavy and refuse(or cannot) made it to hospital. How they behave, which care do they need? Especially interesting stuff with trauma response like Simon's regression.

Also: you ever play Detroit become a human?

There is two of Neil boys too!

yeah i used to be obsessed with DBH in middle school lmao but i don’t have many thoughts abt kamski or gavin really😭

simon: tries to pretend he can take care of it himself and he’s fine, but it doesn’t take long for him to give into your help. both because he likes it and he’s also very weak to you. he’s not used to being the one that’s getting taken care of (older sibling), so i think it’s kind of hard for him to accept it at first, but once he realizes how good it feels he does crave it.

astarion: pathetic wet cat that’s hissing at you the second you try to help him but is also trying very hard to get you to help him. “no i’m fine, shoo go away don’t touch me” *is pushing his arm out for you to bandage him up*

rob: he is absolutely not asking for help at all. he’s actively pushing u away when u try to help, but when he realizes that he really can’t do everything on his own, he relents and when u start taking care of him he’s like “oh…this is kind of nice…”

seb: i think he’s really stubborn abt help but gives in more easily to it. he does like to be pampered and fawned over deep down cuz he’s just kind of not used to ppl caring abt him like that :/ so he might push u away at first and insist everything is fine, but it doesn’t take long before he lets u dote on him and help him.

luke: you’re not getting anywhere with him until you smack him around a bit. he’ll insist he’s not injured and he can do whatever he needs to do while limping and wincing. you’re taking care of him while he pouts and is restrained to the chair.

ernst: little cry baby :(( i think he’s probably coming to you when he gets injured and whining that he needs help. it’s not that he doesn’t like being independent, but he likes the excuse for you to pay attention to him and touch him.

quinten: stubborn baby😭he is absolutely stifling and crying when he falls off his bike and gets all scraped up, but he does not want ur help cuz he is NOT a baby! but ultimately u have to force him to sit down so u can clean up his scrapes and cuts and he spends the whole time pouting. but then u get him ice cream after and he’s all happy again and clinging to u :)

et: i think he’s more likely to let you help him. although i feel like he’d have a bad habit of picking at his cuts and you always have to smack his hand away and tell him to stop.

nikolai: i don’t think he really seeks out any kind of help when he gets injured (which isn’t often), he just kind of retreats into his nest and licks his wounds. he heals fast so it’s never a super big problem, but if he gets nicked by a stake or smth he’ll ask u to help him pull out all the splinters cuz it hurts when he does it.

charlie & hook: are not letting you help at all. they’re both very insistent of their independence and that they’ve been thru so much worse and they can handle it, but you’re just as stubborn as they are and force them to sit thru it anyway.

father anthony: i think he’s very stubborn, but not as stubborn as say luke or rob. it just kind of depends? if it’s smth he’s embarrassed about, then yeah he will insist on hiding it or trying to get u to go away, but if it’s just a standard injury i think he’ll let you take care of him just fine.

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT. 16 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

A/N: sending you all the love you might need on this day <3 enjoy!

WC: 4.217

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

"Right that's perfect." I state, giving Ryan a high five. "You've improved a lot." I tease, patting his shoulder. He smiles, giving me one of his pearly smiles as he stands up.

Recovery day would always be one of my favorite days at this job. No stressing, just rejuvenation.

We did have to keep in mind that we have another match tomorrow, this time for the Carabao Cup against Bournemouth.

We decided to mostly focus on recovery as that was the most important thing right now. Especially, to prevent any problems down the road.

"Of course, you still act like I'm a teenager!" He retorts, looking down at me. Damn, was he getting taller or was I going crazy?

"Can you blame me-"

The sudden feeling of something hitting my leg makes me stop talking, looking down to see a ball roll away from my feet.

I look up to find the perpetrator, a smug Curtis looking at me.

"Excuse me! We're actually busy here!" I shout, giving him a half serious look, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Sorry Doc, two touch got too intense. Right, Harv?" He says, looking over to a equally smug looking Harvey.

"Curt, do you ever leave y/n alone?" I hear, snapping my head to see Virgil walk over. His tatted arm overwhelmingly distracting. An immediate rush of adrenaline flowing through my body.

"I'm sure you would want me to." Curtis replies and I send a cold glare, raising my eyebrows in warning. One more word and I'd rob him of those 500 pounds.

I hear muffled chuckles somewhere in the gym, but don't dare to move another inch.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Dr. Davis right now?" I change the topic, tapping the watch on my wrist.

He huffs, and I kick the ball back to Harvey.

"Come on, go on." I usher Curtis, waving my hand.

I turn to Ryan again, dismissing him with a smile and grab my folder off of the floor. Checking for the next player I had to observe.

I look up, making eye contact with Virgil. The look in his eyes speaking millions of words.

"Your turn." I fake sigh, trying to hide the smile on my face, tapping my shoe on the mat multiple times.

Thankfully, we had to begin at the exercising equipment in the far corner in the room, being able to ignore some glances from the other players. They didn't even try to hide their chuckles and whispers this time as they glanced at us.

I had obviously heard about the bet about us- or whatever Curtis had told me. Our days of hiding our relationship were numbered, and I was scrambling to stretch them.

I decide to act clueless, pretending to be busy with the folder in my hands. Looking up now and then at Virgil. Hoping I was putting on some Angelina Jolie or Lupita Nyong'o acting.

I'd do anything at this point.

"You look good in red." Virgil whispers through a tired grunt and I look up again, raising my brows.

"Really? Right now?" I whisper, looking down at his exercising form.

Droplets of sweat forming on his forehead and gliding down his neck, making contact with the reddish-purple bruises peeking out of his collar.

Yes, my office was a highly dangerous place at this point. Especially, in the morning before training even began.

The entire and I mean the entire gym goes quiet, apart from the foreign song blasting through the speakers. I glance around, almost everyone staring at us.

Virgil follows my eyes, realizing the deafening silence as well.

Damn, I really needed an Oscar at this point.

"Do you guys want exercising tips from your skipper or is winning the Carabao Cup and being in top form more important?" I ask, cocking a brow up to the guys, but I can't help but chuckle at their puzzled faces.

The loud chatter returns again, I laugh again watching them go back to their own exercises.

"You know I didn't do anything." Virgil whispers, voice deep as he looks at me, his hands up in surrender for a moment. He stands up, fixing his shirt. He leans closer to me, whispering.

"Play along with me."

His hand suddenly goes up to his arm, a very convincing pained grunt leaving his lips.

My eyes go wide, confused but looking up at him concerned.

"What's wrong?" I ask my voice a little louder, my hand going up to his arm, hoping he was actually faking it.

"You alright captain?" I hear, Joe coming up to us. His eyebrow raised, other players looking at us as well.

"Think I strained my arm." He replies, closing and opening his fist repeatedly. His eyes looking into mine, a hint of urgency in them.

"I'll check it out in my office." I quickly say, looking back and forth in between the two men.

I let go of Virgil's arm, motioning him to start moving. Taking him to my office, not daring to look behind me.

"Are you being serious?" I ask Virgil as he sits on the treatment table. My hand going up to his arm, the skin of his jacked bicep soft against my fingers.

He chuckles lowly, grabbing my other arm to pull me closer.

"No, just wanted to do this." He mumbles, his hand coming up my chin, his fingers running down my jawline.

He leans in without another word, his lips are on mine tenderly. I gasp into the kiss, but melt into it. Fluttering my eyes shut, letting go of my worries, allowing him to pull me closer. A feeling of desire burning through me, flickering like a raging flame and consuming my senses.

I move my hand up to his chest, fisting his shirt with a firm grip. I pull away, opening my eyes, small annoyed smile on my lips.

"You made me worry for that?" I say, hitting his chest, no malice in my touch.

"You look too good in red." He replies, hands on my waist.

"-and see how no one is looking at us now?"

"Like this made us look less suspicious?" I reply, letting go of his shirt.

"Works for me."

I open my mouth to respond, but my grumbling stomach beats me to it.

"Think it's lunchtime." He teases, and I close my eyes in embarrassment.

"You think?"

"It's weird because I've never really cared about the opinions of strangers. Growing up I wasn't a insecure or very sensitive child. I was pretty independent." I explain, lifting my leg up to the sofa comfortably. Looking at my therapist, her black hair falling in front of her face as she leans forward to look at me.

"Would you say it only happened after adulthood?" She asks, eyes sweet and kind behind her glasses.

I look away, thinking of my answer.

"I think? I made friends easily when I was younger, but when I left my teenage years it started getting more- difficult? Then I started really thinking of the opinions of others."

"Were there any changing factors in your life? Did you move? Change classes? Or another boyfriend maybe? Could you say they're intertwined with your change of heart?"

I bite my lip, humming at her words.

"I did get an internship back then as you know- and met my ex awhile later."

"Right your ex- Theo. You've told me so much about him already- but did he also have a say in how you acted around certain people or in some scenarios?"

"I guess? We went to these dinner parties and other fancy places. We'd meet these business partners of his mother and other wealthy people. I had to essentially play the role of a perfect girlfriend."

"Would you say it made you act more 'aware' of yourself and your actual real personality?"

"I just remember feeling so exhausted and empty after getting home or to our hotel room. Like my soul was sucked out of me or something. It was even worse when he'd started yelling at me for certain things I did, or he'd say that some stupid businessman wasn't liking my attitude or some dumb stuff. I very much argued with him the first couple of times, then I just started taking it like some constructive criticism. It wasn't like that at all though. When our relationship was plastered on the news everywhere- I remember feeling even worse, and to read the opinions of strangers. Those opinions that were already drilled into my mind by own partner- it just got worse."

I explain, fidgeting with the fabric of my trousers. My nails scratching them harshly, feeling my palms get clammy.

"Right- and with your current relationship now- do you see this happen as well?" She says, her voice softening.

"Not at all, I feel the total opposite. Like I can do or say whatever I want with him- and I can. I don't feel like I have to perform or have a fake personality."

"But you'd said you feel the same as in not wanting it to be revealed to the public. He's a footballer if I recall correctly?"

"He is- I just feel like it'll be the same reaction from the public- mean and judgmental."

She hums, fixing her glasses, repositioning them higher on her nose bridge.

"Let's say you have to make a really important decision. Who do you consult? The people closest to you or complete strangers."

"The people closest to me obviously."

"Then you'd have to put it that way, you don't care about the opinions of strangers in personal critical moments- then you shouldn't be allowing their criticism get to you in that critical moment. For example, your relationship being revealed." She finishes, looking at me with a smile on her face.

I stare at her, letting her words sink in. Them clicking like puzzle consisting of a thousand pieces.

I lean back, letting go of my pen, cradling my cramping hand close to me. Ink smudged all over my palm, the corners of the used pages curled up and wrinkled as my eyes dart over the page again.

I had to admit, taking out your frustration and anxiety on paper was insanely relieving and calming. My therapist had recommended it in our last session, and so far I was liking it.

I had four sessions with her so far, and the wisdom the woman had given me was so obvious, but never actually happened to cross my own mind. I was so happy we formed a connection instantly. Especially, since I barely had the mental capacity to look for another therapist.

My glowing laptop screen allows me to see the paper better, as the sun had set awhile ago. The recent emails from my lawyer staring right back at me.

My lawyer had emailed me concerning the break-in. It already felt like a while ago, making me look back at the traumatic incident again. He had given me updates about the case. The police did have camera footage from a nearby shop, which they heavily used to try to identify the guy. Jail time wouldn't be considered, if the intruder was a first offender they'd probably let him go with a fine.

This wasn't the biggest problem, as the only thing I actually wanted was for Theo to get what he'd deserved. The intruder would probably give some bullshit excuse and get off- making me practically lose my mind out of anger. I wanted to put it behind me already, but the fact that Theo would also be let off infuriated me.

My journal now- was scribbled full of my worries. I had written about six full pages, fighting the urge to just scratch out entire pages out of frustration.

I turn off my laptop, rubbing my eye tiredly. I connect my charger to my laptop, and grab my phone. Blowing out the half used vanilla scented candle on my vanity.

I check the time, reading a unnoticed notification. My parcel- or parcels would arrive, brightening up my mood a little.

One thing I had learnt in life was; shopping won't solve the problem, but it definitely will distract you from it- at least for a moment. I'd open the package for the split of second serotonin and that was enough.

The sound of the intercom ringing had me standing up immediately. I run to my door, half tripping on one of my shoes, which I had lazily left there, before checking the cameras and letting the delivery man in and switching on the lights.

The sight of my appearance in the mirror makes me cringe. Not that the delivery man hadn't seen me like this before. I had been insanely busy with work lately and with the ongoing case and the dating rumors. It was honestly taking a toll on me already. I knew it was partially my fault, I could just let go of the case and stop worrying about dating rumors. At the end of the day they weren't things I actually had control over, but it got more frustrating knowing that I didn't have any control in both situations.

I had checked social media- sneakily, redownloading the apps, using my quickly made fake account as I scrolled through the gossip pages.

Most of the reactions were trying to figure out who the "A list footballer" in question was. My heart had skipped a beat when I read Virgil's name, but I had panicked and shut my phone immediately- you couldn't stress me out on the phone I was paying for.

I was still trying to half keep up with my strategy of ignoring the problem, but I slowly started to feel like the problem itself. I promised myself things, just to not even follow up to those promises.

I open my door as I hear a knock, checking the peephole for a second and grabbing the door handle.

"Hi." I greet, grabbing the two big parcels from the poor, all too familiar man.

Shit, maybe I did have a problem...

"You've been buying too many things young lady." He replies, adjusting the cap on his head.

I chuckle embarrassed, setting down the packages next to me on the floor.

"I'm sorry sir, will try to minimize my shopping. Would you like anything? A drink?" I say, smiling at him. I felt bad for the man, even though he was just doing his job.

"No, I'm alright. Have a good evening." He says smiling and turning away, as he presses on the elevator button.

I watch him leave, the elevator door opening with a sound. To my surprise, I see Virgil walking out of it. His face partially covered by his scarf and a black beanie on his head as he walks up to me. Greeting the delivery man kindly.

"Is that the delivery man? He was here last Monday as well wasn't he?" He asks, pointing behind him as he stands in front of me.

I step back, kicking the parcels out of the way and opening the door wider to let him in.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, ignoring him flaming my shopping addiction, now a little self- conscious of my appearance, trying to cover my face with my hoodie. He'd shown up without word many times, only not when I- or the house looked like a dumpster fire.

"Missed my girl." He says, voice deep as he clicks his tongue, stepping into my house and grabbing my wrist to close the door behind me.

"You saw me at work, literally like four hours ago."

"And?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my cheek. His hands going up to remove his scarf and jacket, hanging them on the rack.

"You could've called- I look like this." I say, pointing at my appearance.

"And the house is a mess." I add, sighing.

"And?" He says again, his hands coming up to my shoulders. His brown eyes staring back into mine.

I sigh, shaking my head at him, a soft smile forming on my lips.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

I shake my head, his eyes darting to the parcels on the floor.

"How about you show me what you bought this time and I'll order dinner?" He suggests, running his thumb softly on my cheekbone.

"Can I pick?"

"Of course."

"Okay- ready?" She shouts, walking into the living room. A black mini-dress on her body, ending right in the middle of her thighs. The square neckline giving it the right amount of sexy, the back still unzipped clumsily.

She walks up to Virgil, who's sitting on her sofa. Man-spreading comfortably as he looks her up and down, his tatted arm folded on his other one, up to his chest.

"Can you zip the back?" She asks, turning her back to him as he stands up with a low hum. His fingers ghosting her skin as he plays with the zipper.

"Turn for me love." He mutters, close to her ear.

She turns facing him, adjusting the dress and smoothing down the fabric. It accentuating her body perfectly.

"How is it?" She asks, following his eyes roaming her body.

A low hum leaves his lips, his hand coming to wrap around her waist, other hand traveling down to her behind, pulling her closer.

"Where are you going in this?" He murmurs, longing eyes on hers.

"I'm getting drinks with Clara and Sofia tomorrow. Why? Is it- bad?" She asks, voice in a whisper. A hand fidgeting with the fabric, feeling unsure.

"No, you look too good." He whispers lowly, squeezing her waist delicately.

"Really?" She smiles, face lightning up immediately as her eyes roam over his face.

"Now I'll have to worry about my girl being taken from me." He worries, his hand coming up to his chin, as if to ponder.

She rolls her eyes playfully, tapping his arm repeatedly.

"Like you take off your shirt in front of camera's before asking me. You get thirsted over by the entire internet, let me have this." She tuts, fluttering her eyelashes in an animated way.

"Oh I will. Only after this."

He says, raising his brows, lifting her up and throwing her onto the sofa carefully. His fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as he tickles her.

"Okay! Stop, you know I'm ticklish." She exclaims, tears forming in her eyes from laughter. Struggling to hold his hand back. He listens, pulling back and hovering over her body.

"I also got matching heels." She breathes out, escaping out of his hold, and grabbing the shoe box off the table. She grabs the heels out of the box, turning towards him. The diamond buckles and details glistening in the overhead light.

He walks up to her, grabbing the heels and bending down. She leans forward, placing her hands on his broad shoulders, pushing her weight on him to balance herself.

He unbuckles the heels, slipping them onto her feet and buckling them up again.

"Thank you." She says, letting go of him and watching him stand back up.

"Do a little twirl for me love." He suggests, watching her intently as she does. A low whistle leaving his lips. His hands traveling down to the small of her back.

"Can you skip the drinks with the girls and just come over to mines instead." He says, eyes flashing with lust and desire.

She laughs, shaking her head as her hand comes to pat his arm.

"Nope, I can come over after though?" She teases, already trying to wiggle out of his hold as a joke.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of the intercom makes them remember the food delivery.

"I'll change!" She shouts, already running back to her room. He watches her leave surprised, his tongue running over his cheek annoyed before he gets the door.

"Good food always makes me sleepy." She mumbles, her head in his lap. Thankful for their stomachs being full and satisfied.

He runs his fingers down her face, his thumb smoothing down her eyebrows, moving down to other facial features, humming in agreement.

"What is it? What are you thinking of?" She asks, noticing how quiet he is, looking up him.

"Just thinking." He mumbles, looking distracted.

"About?"

"Us."

She huffs, poking his firm abdomen.

"Tell me." She say impatiently.

He clicks his tongue, finally making eye contact with her.

"I just came from speaking to my agent. Talked about us with the publicist."

"What did they say?" She asks, sitting up, facing him.

He shifts, his hand coming up to squeeze her shoulder. Looking at her with a serious expression.

She furrows her brows, looking confused.

"You're worrying me. Tell me, come on." She urges fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, trying to read his face.

"They told me that there was an article released this morning- about us, with pictures." He explains, trying to soothe her with soft caresses on her cheek.

Her eyes go wide, her grip on his shirt tightening as she gasps. Her heart starting to thump excessively faster in her chest.

"They- know?" She stutters, blinking repeatedly, feeling panic surge up her body.

"I'm sorry baby." He whispers, looking at her, his hand traveling to her nape to soothe her further.

"What did it say?" She asks, millions of thoughts running through her mind.

"It was about our date back home, in Amsterdam. Pictures of us getting into the car." He explains, voice softer than usual.

"Did they identify me too?" She asks, hoping it wasn't the case.

To her horror he nods, trying to calm her down with soft shushes.

"Normally, they wouldn't be able to identify you this fast, but the article mentions the blind item and- that piece of shit. So, they put two and two together, and probably bought the rights to some pictures secretly taken by someone who approached them."

She breathes out shakily, letting go of his shirt and looking away. Her eyes noticeably full of worry and panic.

"What are you worried about love?" He coaxes, continuing to run his thumb on her cheek.

"What people would think and say." She mutters, tears accumulating in her eyes.

"Why does that matter to you?" He asks, voice as calm as possible to not disturb the fact that she's taking in the privacy violating news.

"Last time, it was bad- like really really really-"

"Hey, it's alright. You've got me this time. I'll make sure with my agent and publicist that it won't be bad. Besides, you know our supporters won't care right? The criticism will come from strangers at the end of the day. Why should we string importance to what they say?" He says, trying to calm her down with his words.

"I just keep thinking about those comments from the past, they still hurt." She says, voice cracking unpleasantly.

"I understand that love. Let's just stay off of our phones, yeah? We'll figure it out together, I promise."

"I'm not some gold digging bitch or whore-" she whispers, tears twinkling in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill and holding her feelings back. Like a dam trying to keep its ragging waters back, a crack forming at its base. Threatening the very purpose of it.

"You're not those things. It's alright sweetheart, I'll take care of it yeah?" He promises, practically boiling on the inside. The fact that anyone could call his sweet girlfriend those words, making him both mad and his heart ache for her.

She sighs, remembering her conversation with her therapist again. Why care about the opinions of people whom you don't value, right?

"Well what about work? They'll look at me weirdly. Oh my god- how am I going to look at them in their faces." She groans, placing her head into the crook of his neck, now straddling him.

"Why are you embarrassed of me?" He says, trying find some humor to cheer her up, even if it's just a bit. 

"No, of course not! It just looks like I got the job to fuck one of their players-" she exclaims, frustration gnawing at her.

"Alright, alright I get it. Let's take it step by step hm?" He suggests, making her look at him again.

"HR and Klopp already know. It's not like the players are fully unaware of something going on between us, you're aware of the little bet the younger guys have on us, right?"

She nods, biting on her lip as she still cringes at the thought of it being officially known by the club.

"That means they're fine with it. I promise." He assures, running his hand up and down her back.

"If HR and Klopp are fine with it, other staff will be okay with it too. No worrying needed love."

She sighs, placing her head onto his chest. Pondering over every single thing he'd just said.

Thinking of having to face her worst nightmare tomorrow. Something she'd dreaded since they started dating. She could only ignore and dismiss her problems until a certain amount of time, then she'd obviously have to face them, eventually.

“Did I at least look good in those pictures?”

[montcumbry-gaytor]

Nepenthe. chap 03

act one : tacenda

THIS IS AN OC INTEGRATION FOR THE WITCHER, IT IS NOT AN X READER FIC.

— BACK W DA THIRD CHAPTER!! YALL AREADY KNOW JASKY COMING ‼️ WE'VE BEEN WAITING, OR AT LEAST I HAVE ‼️

tw for : Canon Typical violence, Canon typical language, Mentions of blood, Death.

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence.

"Love the way you both just sit in the corner and brood."

Says the bard, and I see Geralt roll his eyes, obviously annoyed by the socialite.

"We're here to drink alone."

Geralt says lowly, looking away from the bard, his jaw is clenched as if he wants to say more, and from under the table I let the slightest bit of our boots touch, he nudges his foot back in a slight expression of recognition.

"Good, Yeah.. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, Except... you two."

The bard says, pointing between me and Geralt before taking an uncanny gulp of whatever is in his cup, walking to stand in where Geralt was previously looking to avoid him.

"Come on.. you don't want to keep a man with- bread in his pants waiting.."

He adds, his face contorting awkwardly before taking a seat beside me, and my eyes flicker to Geralts in a call of desperation as the bard requests for your feedback.

"They don't exist."

Geralt sighs, though he keeps a tight lip, his gaze occasionally flickers to me, but never to the bard, when the brunette questions his meaning, geralt continues.

"The creatures in your song."

He adds, his nose scrunching up in distaste as the Bard begins to pick apart Geralt and I's features.

"Ohh fun, The white hair, the yellow eyes, the very.. scary companion and even scarier swords... I know who you are."

I see Geralt stand and begin to leave, and I take a final swig of my drink before leaving it, hot on Geralt's trail.

"You're Witcher's, Aren't you?"

He says, hanging on a pillar before shouting out 'Called it!' and I can feel myself burn inside, I'd gladly take coin to kill a fuck like him.

"A job I've got for you, I beg of you."

A young man says, rushing to the two of us and I find myself standing just slightly behind Geralt, watching just over his shoulder, and I burn my gaze into the bard.

He sheepishly turns away, and walks out of my view and I feel a bit of relief, and turn my attention to the man, listening as he describes some 'Devil' and offers coin.

I can see Geralt mentally bargain, before he raises the price just slightly higher, and it seems the man is willing, Geralt takes the coin and my stare flickers back to the bard, who stares at Geralt with curiosity, like he's avoiding my existence.

"Quite the bargain, Though you've basically robbed the poor lad."

I say, exiting the tavern with Geralt, he knows what I mean and let's out a sigh.

"Though it's no worse than what others do I suppose."

I add, and we snag our horses from the stables, and thank the woman who tended to them, rounding our way out of Posada.

I hiss out a small 'shit' as I hear footsteps grow quick and close, and Geralt picks up immediately, seemingly also annoyed.

"Need a hand? I got two! Each for the devil's horns."

The bard says, He clutches his lute strap which hangs on his right shoulder, and comes between me and Geralt, and I feel an underlying urge to kick his feet from beneath him, the thought of him eating dirt makes me feel a little better.

"Go away."

Geralt says, And persists through the hill up towards your destination.

"I won't be but silent backup."

The bard tries to excuse himself, but I feel the irony bubble up in my chest and come out as a chuckle.

"What a joke."

I comment to myself, and I hear the bard let out a small scoff before speaking again.

"I heard your note and you're right, Maybe real adventures would make better stories, and you two, my good sirs : smell chock-full of them."

The bard says, Gesturing comically to the two of us, I shake my head and give geralt a quick look, and I can see his lips twitch up.

But quickly back down as the bard adds on that he smells Onion, and then theatrically goes on about Death and Destiny, amongst other silly titles.

"It's onion."

Geralt Deadpans, and I let out a small laugh under my breath, and I hear the bard let out a meek 'Right.' before continuing on once more, before spitting out the title I know Geralt hates.

Geralt stops, and sucks in a deep breath in his teeth before turning to the bard.

"Come here."

"—Yeah?"

The bard asks, before contorting around himself as Geralt socks him in his gut, and I feel a bit of relief watching as the bard stumbles, and I give him a sarcastic pat on the back, before continuing with Geralt.

We get closer to our destination and mount our horses, and I feel myself fill with dread the more and more the Bard talks.

"Reading between the lines of the gut punches, id say you have a bit of an image problem."

The bard says, pointing to Geralt as he still hasn't given up on trying to 'Help' Though he's only made this journey heavy on my mind.

"Butcher is right."

Geralt says, and I frown a bit at that comment, he's had yet to tell me of what happened in blaviken that gave him such a 'Title' and only get what has been bounced around taverns-folk.

"Do you mind if I hop up there with you?"

"—Dont touch roach."

Geralt growls, and the bard immediately retracts and puts his eyes on me.

"You, Then?"

"Fuck off."

I hiss, hopping off my horse as Geralt and I tie them to a lone tree next to our path, I roll my eyes as the Bard retells old wives tales as if it's some legendary story.

I follow Geralts tail, just barely behind him as usual, with the heat heavy on my shoulders I pull a small braided cord from my hip bag, and tie my hair up and off my neck, granting an instant relief.

"What are we looking for again?"

"Blessed silence."

Geralt says, hoping the comment would stick, and he squeezes his eyes shut in irritation as the bard continues to chatter.

"Have either of you ever hunted a devil before?"

"Devils don't exist."

We say in unison, and the bard questions what exactly is going on, and Geralt explains once more.

"Sometimes there's monsters, sometimes there's money, rarely both."

"That's the life."

I add, and I feel my whole body jolt as I hear something whisp through the air, Geralt flinches and snarls out a profanity.

"Geralt.. It is a devil."

The bard says, staring into the disturbed shrubbery, and I can just see the silhouette of a horned figure, and when I look to Geralt, the bard begins to ramble before it's shortly cut off.

"Thank the gods."

I sigh, before I follow Geralt slowly, I listen for anything that could give off a location, but it's quiet, uncomfortably so, which is when the beast charges from the tall grass and into Geralt's gut, it's shouting surprises me.

"You talk."

Geralt says, pushing himself from the ground, and the beast charges again, this time Geralt promptly snags it by its horn and whips it around, pinning it to the ground quickly.

"What happened with you? Your mother fuck a goat?"

Is the last thing I hear as ground crunches behind me, and as I whip around I can't even see the assailant clear enough as my vision fades to a deep black.

A memory plays in my head, and I can't fight it, I'm stuck in place watching it happen to myself, I'm not in control of my own body.

I can smell the metallic undertone of blood, its filled with a searing pain over my left eye, my body is tired and I sit with its body in my lap, my knife sunken deep into its ribs, my heart aches as it's warmth fades away, and it's big fierce eyes no longer open, I let out a blood curdling scream in a mix of fury, pain, and victory, and I cannot help but be lost in my emotions amongst my peers, and somehow numb all at once.

The scream shrieks in my ears, ringing, and it fuels the pain in my temples as my eyes flutter open, and I feel myself groan as the blessed silence is broken.

"This is the part where we escape."

— I hope y'all enjoyed this!! I know these chapters are shorter than the first but I tried to make the first chapter very telling of what Kael is like </3

— as usual it isn't proofread so if y'all see Grammer errors defo point em out.

[naturally-dazed]

Sally had met Dina Caliente at a club a very long time ago when she'd just moved into this house, they didn't hang out again but stayed in touch through social media & the phone call here and there - They get along so well though their relationship bar is completely full despite not really getting to know each other properly in person.

Still, she felt like since she doesn't really want to spend time around Marci anymore - why not invite Dina over and get to know her better? maybe add her to the club now that it's one member short.

But immediately, after Dan comes into the room and introduces himself - Sally started getting jealous pangs...

and developed a fear of getting cheated on! they literally just got married and he moved in and hasn't gone anywhere but work so far! but she's feeling flirty and he's feeling flirty too, and I guess knowing Dina is a romance sim caught her a little off guard like she knew but she didn't KNOW y'know?

She was trying to get his attention all on her for a second there

When Geoffrey Landgraab shows up at her doorstep with a gift? - please don't be a severed llama head, she put those days behind her and hasn't spoken a word to a single landgraab ever since her relationship with Nancy went into the red. But she did keep Geoffrey & Malcolm on her socials cause it wasn't them that robbed her lol.

He got her a postcard, seems like it's a very late apology for his wife's ridiculous actions. Maybe he didn't know until now & decided to make a peace offering?

She let him into her house and everyone was getting along pretty great

Until Sally's jealousy got the best of her and she kept lashing out at Dan for apparently no reason, he's just socializing like the rest of them - even took advantage of the fact that FUCKING GEOFFREY LANDGRAAB IS IN HIS HOME and started talking to him as a potential client!

But there's only one way to calm sally down so they left the other two to ramble about whatever and excused themselves to the other room lol now everyone's happy

[amostimprobabledream]

Ignite Me (The Homelander x Reader) Part Five

Hey guys! Sorry it took a bit longer to get this chapter out than the last few, this past month or so has been taking quite a toll on my mental health and so on...but I thought I’d give you one more before the New Year!  It was sunset, and the city was awash in a peach-gold colour that seemed to make everything look softer, somehow. Lighter. Traffic was gathering in the roads, people looking to go home after a long day at work. The streets teemed with people, going out to bars or restaurants or the movies. Everyone was caught up in their plans for the final phase of the day, of their own schedules. Homelander flew silently across the skies, his eyes scanning the buildings until he found the correct one. It was easy to forget the significance of a place once you left it, and he'd never expected to have to do this again, especially not so soon after last time. But he deemed it necessary, and once Homelander decided he wanted something, there was little anyone could do to dissuade him otherwise. Just who did you think you were? He had to admit, you were smart to have picked a time when he was busy dealing with journalists praising him for the interview and talking about setting up future publicity stunts. He didn't have the time to watch you every second of the day and you knew that, so the minute you had a moment alone, you'd taken advantage of Ashley's utter fucking incompetence to disappear as soon as possible, without so much as a word to him. Without even an explanation. Ashley hadn't taken long to crack - apparently, you'd given one little interview and decided to just dip out and go back to your ordinary, sad little life. Ridiculous. Homelander finally found the balcony he was looking for - the gauzy curtains were drawn this time and the effect made it considerably less welcoming, like a closed eye, but he drifted towards it anyway, touching down on concrete silently. He wanted the element of surprise, before you could come up with some pathetic excuse for vanishing on him like that. The door to the apartment was locked, but it gave easily with just the slightest bit of pressure from his hand, and a mirthless smirk crossed his face. What was the point of locking this door, anyway? Exactly who were you hoping to keep out? It wasn't like a thief would be able to get up here to rob the place - and the one person who could easily reach wasn't going to be stopped by a little thing like a lock. However, when Homelander stepped into your apartment, he paused. 

You were on the sofa, as expected, but instead of mindlessly watching TV or whatever else normal people did when they were at home alone, you were…asleep? Homelander frowned. For some reason, it had never occurred to him you might be sleeping, but here you were, taking him by surprise yet again. Your cheek was squished against the pillow under your face, chest rising and falling slowly, not even twitching. Judging from your heartbeat, you were likely deep in a REM cycle at the moment and were unlikely to wake up and start freaking out, demanding to know what he was doing uninvited in your apartment again. And that had him at a loss. He had come here to your apartment have it out with you, to pick a fight, because it pissed him off that you'd just casually waltzed out of Vought Tower like you could just leave whenever you felt like it while he had to stand there and smile like a trained fucking showpony. If he had to endure things he didn't want to do when he could literally crush those journalists like the insects they were, what made you think you were such an exception? Didn't you understand how any of this worked? But seeing you in such a vulnerable position, oblivious to the world or even to his presence...there was something about it he didn't want to disturb. Not just yet. After all, when did Homelander ever witness other people sleeping? Sure, he often woke up before Maeve or any one of his other recent conquests, but that wasn't quite the same thing. You didn't even know you were being watched - you'd clearly just thrown on some clothing, settled down and fallen asleep without realising it, judging by the awkward angle you were lying down, like you had been seated and just toppled sideways. He could see the TV remote still loosely dangling from one hand, inches away from being dropped to the rug beneath you. His eyes flicked to the coffee table in front of you and zeroed in on a foil packet of pills. A dart of alarm shot through him, and he snatched it up, inspecting it, wondering if you'd done something stupid like take drugs and then pass out - you didn't look like the type, but appearances could be deceiving. He didn't think you'd have the balls to tell Ashley to deliver a message to him or sneak off without being told you could leave, either. His eyes scanned the label - the pill was unfamiliar to him, but it looked like some kind of strong painkiller, nothing more. Homelander snorted softly and tossed the packet back on the table. He moved closer, drawn in by the soothing, steady thrum of your heartbeat. Homelander bit down on the fingertip of his glove and slowly peeled it off, setting it down on the table. Slowly, with even more care than usual, he reached out and set his hand on your forehead, smoothing back some of your hair. As he'd expected, your skin was warm to the touch - somewhat more than it should be, though Homelander himself tended to run hot, thanks to all the V that ran through his system. You'd said something earlier about not feeling well, but he'd ploughed through interviews with far worse than you ever had so naturally, he hadn't felt all that sympathetic. Why did people around him spend so much fucking time whining about bullshit? But perhaps, he'd been a little…harsh. Homelander was a big believer in a little tough love, but he sometimes would forget that other people didn't have his tolerance for it. They were liable to crumble instead of rising to the challenge. After all, you were just a human. Homelander’s bare knuckle gently grazed the peach of your cheek. He was used to minding his strength, so his touch was featherlight. You only gave a little hum at the physical contact, and then – maybe you sought comfort after a rough day, maybe you were just changing position, but you leaned into the touch, like a cat looking to be petted. He paused. Homelander recalled the look on your face when he'd gotten angry earlier. At the time it felt good, a kick of vindictive satisfaction at letting you know exactly the kind of bullshit he had to put up with all the time, that your one fucking day of discomfort had been nothing compared to his own, and to shut up your annoying complaints. But now, the viciousness in him from before had unexpectedly been drained from him like a lanced boil, now that he was capturing a glimpse of you - the real you, when you weren't smiling woodenly for a camera or telling him whatever you thought he wanted you to say - and now he was at a loss of what to do next. He didn't want to disturb this peculiar moment, where he was free to observe you as much as he wanted, where you were wholly unguarded and completely honest in your responses to him. It occurred to him that maybe you really didn't understand the importance of all of it - all the work they did at Vought, with photoshoots and movies and promos and countless other miniature projects that went into maintaining a Supe's image. After all, you weren't watched every second of the day, you had no idea what it was like to be popular and important and influential. Things like approval ratings meant nothing to an ordinary girl like you. So of course, you didn't think twice about walking away - because you really, truly didn't think it mattered. If he wasn't so thunderstruck by this line of thinking, Homelander might have barked a laugh. You really did inhabit a completely different world from him, didn’t you? Your naivete of it all was in equal measures frustrating and endearing, and it was fortunate for you that you had managed to make him lean towards the latter, at least for the moment. He restrained himself from snorting out loud for fear of waking you, watching your eyelids flickering, lost in the throes of a dream, most likely. Were you dreaming of him? He clicked his tongue softly, tilting his head as he watched you, your cheek still nuzzled into the palm of his hand. A hand that could so easily break your jaw were he so inclined, yet he didn’t. Something in him called for him to let this moment linger for as long as possible. He huffed through his nose. "What am I gonna do with you?" he murmured. ~ Your phone buzzed in your hand, startling you. You had been miles away, lost in your thoughts. You’d woken up suddenly that morning like you’d been about to do something and had suddenly remembered it. You didn’t remember going to bed at all, so for some reason waking up all snuggled up under your blanket had surprised you. You must have been especially exhausted, or maybe those painkillers had been stronger than you’d anticipated. “Hello?” you said, clamping the phone to your ear and trying to ignore the look of mild irritation from the hairdresser behind you - you'd had enough of getting judgey stares from people. “Hey!” a familiar voice chimed down the phone. “Long time no see!” You smiled and leaned back in your seat, immediately relaxing. Casey was an old friend of yours from university and hearing her voice was like an instant shot of pleasant nostalgia surging through you. She had a busy job (that paid much better than yours), so you didn’t get to see her as much as you would have liked, so whenever she found the time to pop back up like this, it was always a nice surprise. “Same to you,” you said, smiling apologetically at the hairdresser in the mirror. “How’ve you been?” “I’m good, but more importantly, how are you? Where are you? The background sounds weird.” “Oh, I’m just getting my hair done,” you said airily, glad Casey can’t see the way you’re tapping your fingers against the phone. Because getting your hair done is perfectly normal, but changing your look so that people will stop asking if you’re ‘the girl from the interview’, like that’s the only thing worth knowing about you, requires much more explanation you don’t feel like giving, especially not in a crowded place like this. The fact Casey hasn’t brought it up is such a relief you don’t want to push your luck. You’re hoping that people won’t recognise you if you change your hair colour a bit, and some other Supe scandals will eclipse it. You figured it was a pretty safe bet. “Aw, I bet it’ll look so cute!” Casey said, then you heard her smack her hand on the table for emphasis. “Hey, we need to get together and get drunk so I can appreciate it, and so we can dance without feeling stupid! It’s been forever since we hit the bars, I miss you!” You felt the flickering of excitement stirring in the pit of your stomach. Going out for drinks with an old friend might sound innocuous but going to the bar with Casey always ends up being a completely chaotic night and a lot of fun. She’s one of those people who talks to everyone, and crazy things tend to happen when she’s there. And god knows after the past couple of weeks you’ve had, you could use a drink. Several of them. “I miss you too!” you said, a grin spreading across your face and you felt dumb for getting so excited over a simple invitation, but you couldn't help it. You couldn’t remember when you last smiled like this. “And yes, yes, we do need to meet up. When were you thinking of going out?” “How about this weekend?” Casey said and you could just picture her flipping through her diary to make double sure she is in fact free. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m busy,” you said, knowing damn well you had nothing planned and probably would just end up wasting all weekend messing around on your phone if left to your own devices. “Awesome! Then I’ll see you on Saturday!” Casey said, then giggled deviously. “Wear something slutty!” “Will do.” You smirked, and Casey bid you goodbye before hanging up.“If you’ll follow me over to the sinks,” the hairdresser said, who looked less annoyed since you had hung up – maybe she’s used to people gabbing away on the phone the entire time, in which case you can’t blame her. “And we can take a look at how the colour is doing.” “Okay, cool.” You said, happy to stretch your legs for a second. The water felt good on your head and the way the hairdresser massaged your scalp as she carefully rinsed out the dye felt even better. You didn’t splurge on your hair that often in the interest of trying to keep it healthy (and because it’s expensive), so this all felt very indulgent indeed. Nothing prepared you for how good you’d feel when the hairdresser sat you back down in your chair and turned you to face the mirror, and you caught sight of your reflection. Wow. You thought, eyes wide, turning your head this way and that, admiring the way the light bounced off your freshly washed hair. It was different from your usual shade, but not bad. Not bad at all.“You like it, then?” the hairdresser asked, looking amused at your expression. “Yeah,” you said, with a little laugh. “I look- yeah!” “Come this way and I’ll ring you up,” she said, clicking across the floor. You grabbed your bag and followed her, watching yourself out of the corner of your eye as you passed by in the mirrors, hair bouncing like you were in a shampoo ad. You couldn’t wait to show off your new hair to Casey, or anybody else who might be interested in looking at it, for that matter. With this new hair, and with your invitation from Casey dangling above you like a Christmas tree bauble, you’ve decided to stop worrying about what comes next. Come the weekend and you’re going to let loose and have fun for once – stop dreaming of bullets and camera and eyes that glow red in the dark. You’re already mentally cataloguing every item of clothing you own for something appropriately slutty, because you realised that Casey’s right – what you need is to let go of all the worrying you’ve been doing these past couple of weeks, go out there and have fun – and maybe bring some guy home to fuck your brains out. You hated to admit it, but since that (stupid) kiss with Homelander it’s just driven home that you haven’t had a boyfriend or even really been dating much in ages. You deliberately don’t think about exactly how long it’s been. Come the weekend, that’s all going to change. Your reflection smirked. Wait til they get a load of me. Taglist: @zoleea-exultant, @ababynova

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 4: You See Right Through Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Summary: Michael opens up a little more, and your defenses start to crumble when you realize how similar you truly are.

Warnings: ANGST, lots of crying, mentions of child abuse and child death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.2k

A/n: I cried while writing this, and it hurts more if you listen to The Archer while reading this🤝🏻 But also, Mikey does his own dishes and the bare minimum should not be this attractive.

It’s one in the morning.

Michael has moved to lay beside you, your hand still on his face as you stroke his cheek. His eyes are closed, but he isn’t asleep. They are red and swollen from crying, his lips cracked from the dryness after not being able to breathe through his stuffed nose. 

You held him as he told you the truth. You held him as he cried. It went on for a long time, but you eventually managed to calm him down. 

You begin to think again. His day went awful, but yours wasn’t great either. The picture of the body bag being rolled out of the gas station only a few hundred meters down from your home is still stuck in your head, and it attacks the fear center of your brain slowly but steadily. 

“Michael?” you whisper into the silence. 

He hums, acknowledging your voice and showing you he’s listening, he’s just too tired to talk.

“I have a question.”

He opens one eye to look at you. “Ask,” he says. 

“Something happened earlier. It’s been bugging me, and I didn’t want to add to your plate or annoy you or whatever, but…”

“Yer not annoying.”

“My question might be.”

“You can tell me anythin’, love.”

“Well, I was driving home earlier and– you remember the gas station we passed this morning?”

Both of his eyes are open now. You take it as a yes. 

“I’m used to hearing it got robbed, you know? It happens a lot, and it often ends in a small investigation that they leave be for whatever reason, but… there were police everywhere this afternoon, more than usual, and– and I think someone got killed this time. I heard on the news that shots were fired, but–” 

When you look at him, not a single muscle in his face is moving. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry, forget it.”

“No,” but his voice sounds weird; he sounds like someone pressed a button inside of him that caused his jaw to lock up and sends anger straight through his veins. “Tell me,” he says.

You shudder slightly, not sure if you want to hear the answer. “Was it your family?” you ask then, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is it a front for the mob? Am I living next to a constant active crime scene? I don’t understand.”

He reaches out to touch your face this time. “Love, I…”

“So it’s true?”

“No!” the answer comes suspiciously quick. “No, yer safe. Don’t even think about it. Whatever happened, it has nothin’ to do with you or me or my family. Nothin’ can hurt ya, I promise.”

“But it’s true?”

“Leave it be.”

“No.”

You are stubborn by nature.

Death can happen fast. Accidents happen. You could lose your life in a second. Wrongful death, intentional death, that’s where it gets tricky. Murder is tricky. It means someone is willing to take another person’s life either for the thrill of it or personal reasons, but it’s still murder. Whether it can be excused or not is a debate that severely depends on the situation.

Death itself is a hard pill to swallow for most people, especially when it’s someone you love or it comes at random to someone too young to die, and then the world of everyone around the dead person crumbles. 

And there is nothing we, as humans, can do to outrun the hourglass or the hurdles life might throw our way and could end us in an instant. 

“Death doesn’t scare me,” you admit quietly. “But not-knowing does. And it is killing me inside that you won’t talk to me.”

Michael isn’t scared of death either; he has stared it in the face more times than he can count. He is afraid of the consequences, maybe, because he knows how much it can hurt. Death is a force of destruction. It can lead nations to chaos, or ruin your own life. Death often leads to a series of repercussions. You can’t escape it. 

He didn’t tell you everything to protect you, but not-knowing scares you. You just said it. You’re not scared of him or death or his family, you are scared of the uncertainty, and he is at fault for that. In a way, he does scare you with that.

What he told you painted a clearer picture of his pain and the person he is deep inside, but he still kept parts of his life hidden, which means you don’t know him. You know his essence, but you don’t know his life. 

You want to be part of Michael’s life, and you accept every rough edge he might show you, even if it’s dangerous and painful and might end in death. That becomes frighteningly clear to you, and you recoil at your train of thought. 

You avoided violence because you grew up with it, and now you want to be in a relationship with a man who, some time ago, lived a life of violence? But it’s different, right? It has to be different. 

Or maybe you are sexually attracted to danger, after all. Michael treats you well compared to the men you were with before, so accepting a little danger is something you can manage. Right?

You’re thinking too much. And Michael is thinking too much, too. He wants to tell you, he wants to admit that he lied, but his tongue is tied. He looks at you and his thoughts only go out to protecting you, and there is still a part of him that wants to guard what’s left of his heart that you haven’t seen yet. He protects himself with that, in a way, but also keeps you from harm – emotionally and physically. 

Why he chose to put himself in this position, he doesn’t know. It scares him, and he doesn’t often get afraid. He isn’t afraid of many things except for this. 

His thoughts flick to what Jimmy told him about Eamon and the danger that he projects. He owns them, and he wants to own even more to the point the Kinsellas will only be mere slaves in the business anymore. Eamon would move mountains to get what he wants. 

More than one person has been causing trouble lately, so Frank is weary. Michael gets that. This life is dangerous and no matter what, threats will pop up anywhere they go. It’s only natural if you’re a Kinsella, and if he were still with them, working for them, he would tread carefully. He would make sure everyone is safe the same way he is keeping you safe now, and he needs to keep Anna safe, too. 

It’s not about self-pity anymore, it’s about the duty he appoints himself. He won’t let history repeat itself. 

He said he would burn this bridge if it comes to it, but it hasn’t come so far and his family is capable of many things. They can handle it. Jimmy will find someone to help him. Eric isn’t him, Michael is aware of that, but he can still be used to get a point across, and his brother won’t have to work alone and subject himself to the danger on his own. 

He hates that he still cares so much and every living thought revolves around his family, even after all the pain, but he grew up with them, was loved by them, and worked for them for a long time because it was the only way he knew how to live. His name comes with a certain sense of responsibility that is almost impossible to shake, but he told Jimmy he can try, and he is trying. He just can’t fail again. 

You sit up. Frustration is etched into your features. You hate not-knowing, not being able to understand, and your thoughts and his lack of words only make it harder than it should be. It fuels the anxiety and feeds the fear. 

“It wasn’t my family,” Michael says. His eyes gloss over with guilt and unshed tears, but he is too exhausted to allow himself to cry again. “But it was someone, and they’re not robberies.”

Your shoulders are tense and you look scared. He hates when you’re scared. He hasn’t seen you like this before, but he knows he can’t let it happen again. And so he ends up telling you, anyway. 

“He‘s dead,” he adds. 

Death doesn’t scare you, you said. You appreciate the honesty. 

Finally, you think. You should celebrate the fact he finally told you something, but what he tells you isn’t exactly satisfying information. 

You nod slowly, processing his words. “And whoever was killed–” you said. 

“Connected, but not family.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Workin’ for us,” he explains. “A dealer. I, uh, overheard a conversation.”

“So drugs?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” his eyes only grow guiltier, “but that's not somethin' you should concern yerself with. It’s dangerous and there is a reason I didn’t want to tell ya.”

“And this…” your hand motions to nothing at all, but he knows what you mean. “This was once your life?” you ask, your voice quivering slightly. “Guns, bodybags, and bloodshed? It really is that serious? It’s not just some result of fiction or- or an overstatement?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“And your brother – Jimmy, was it? – and his wife, they want you to go back to that life with the possibility of being shot even though you have a daughter?”

“Mhm.”

“You could die?”

“Yes. It's a risk I've come ta accept."

“Jesus Christ, Michael!” You bury your face in your hands. 

"But I knew tha' from the beginning," he adds. "It's what my life has always looked like. Death doesn't scare me."

You cry out, your voice dripping with the pure essence of frustration. "Maybe, in your case, it should!" you snap.

He slowly sits up and approaches you. His hand hovers above your back, but he is scared to touch you. What if you recoil? He shouldn’t have told you. He might lose you now. He might have screwed up another good thing. His hands are capable of destroying so much.

But you raise your head again after a few seconds and turn around. The look in your eyes isn’t one of fear or disgust; you look at him with the rawest empathy he has ever seen a person possess. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that, and do all of that, I–”

“I hurt people. I killed people,” he whispers back. “I am not the victim. Why don’t ya get that?”

“I do get it, Michael, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Your voice is louder now, more desperate. 

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because no one chooses this life,” you say and grasp his hand tightly in yours. “You were born into it, and I am so sorry you didn’t get to live a happy suburban life with your wife and daughter a-and a dog, maybe. I’m sorry you had to grow up with so much death and blood and that you had to carry the guilt of your actions without anyone to take care of you. I’m sorry you had to do that–”

The word ‘killing’ strikes a chord, but it’s a low note that doesn’t reach the speakers. It doesn’t reach your ears. He’s a victim in your eyes. 

“Your family expects so much of you, don’t they?”

Michael’s face contorts. Lightning strikes him. His face falls. His expression has never been clearer. You managed to press your finger straight into the wound and twist it. You read him like an open book, but this time you didn’t miss even the slightest inch. The obvious punches him in the face. 

“Good Boy Michael, your family’s obedient servant–”

He calls your name. He’s not sure where you got the dagger from, but it’s starting to hurt. That’s not your intention, not even when you get up and stand before where he’s sitting on the bed. The rain cloud above his head opens up. His brown eyes falter in their sternness. You tore the very last bit of the veil that kept the very core of him covered and tore it off, and now there is no going back. 

“You didn’t deserve that. And you don’t deserve any of this, either,” you say, your voice a gentle breeze that blows over his wounds. "What's happening right now. You don't deserve it."

You didn’t inflict them, you simply reopened them, and now he is bleeding on the floor. His heart is bleeding out for you. It’s a tragic picture, a tragic metaphor, but you seem to live for the drama of a good metaphor. You are a writer, after all, and all good love stories have someone bleeding out for the other, burning for them, willing to die for them…

You reach out to touch his cheek. He says your name again, but it doesn’t come out right. 

“You’ve always deserved better, Michael.”

There are a few things you know now, and they ignite a fire of determination that is hard to put out. 

For one, you hate Jimmy and Amanda. You’ve never met them but alone the thought of ever doing so repulses you. When Michael told you about the fight at his house a few days ago, the things his brother said to him in a fit of rage, and how he and Amanda tried to convince him to join the business again after he explicitly told them that he wants to prioritize Anna, your blood boiled and you recoiled. You died inside.

And two, you can tell he is holding back. He’s not a terrible liar, but he can be exceptionally bad at it when he’s in a bad mood. 

He asked you once if you ever get angry, at the café when he found you after a bad day and offered some comfort. The first day you kissed. The truth is, you do get angry; it’s often silent anger and you hate violence - you loathe it - but there are times when silent anger isn’t enough and you become absolutely furious. When it comes to the people you love, there is nothing you wouldn’t do. 

Love. 

Do you love him? It hasn’t been that long and feelings tend to be confusing. You thought love at first sight was a fairytale and it only happens in romance books – it has always been fiction to you. But if it’s fiction, why do you feel this way?

Maybe it’s a ‘right person, wrong time’ situation. You found each other when you needed it the most, neither of you knowing that was the case and now you’re here with him, sharing a bed, and you want nothing more than that. You want this reality. You want to forget about your past. 

But it’s not that easy. Your sister is living in a household that is slowly destroying her inside, and you feel helpless. You want to take her in, but she’s a minor and that would be a crime without custody, even if it’s your own sister. And you haven’t been in contact for a long time. She might see you differently now. 

You were scared of reconnecting. You openly admit that. You were a coward. You were scared of facing any part of your family again after everything that happened; you wanted to hide the pain and move on. It was more about pushing the ghastly memories of your childhood and beyond away than it was about making yourself happy. 

You ran because you had to. You prioritized yourself, but looking at the situation at hand now, you regret it. Ignoring the inevitable is never a good idea, and you should have known living in denial wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps you were more than delusional when you thought moving to Dublin and chasing a dream that is so far away, still, would be a good idea. 

“No child–” your voice cracks. The tears start burning in your eyes like a steadily spreading wildfire. You were so strong in the beginning, now you’re breaking yourself apart. “No child should grow up with violence,” you whisper. “No child should feel trapped in their home, because of their name or- or like they’re not good enough. It’s not fair. It’s not…” You suck in a sharp breath when the first tear escapes the corner of your eye.  

“Hey,” Michael says. He utters your name for the third time. “Love…”

Oh, that little pet name breaks your heart. 

“I’m so sorry you went through what you went through and I don’t… I don’t care that you hurt people because I know… I’ve hurt people too. And I know you would never hurt me, Michael. I know it may be foolish of me to stick around, but you didn’t do any of the things you did because you’re vile. You just had to survive and I don’t hate you or could ever hate you for wanting to survive. You never had a choice.”

His eyes are sore from crying, but fresh tears start building up anyway. The sight of you so broken and vulnerable and sad for him is something he can’t stand, and he just wants to know who hurt you. You were the spitting image of sunshine, and now your light has dimmed. The candle is about to blow out. Up until now, he didn’t believe that was possible. You were so happy, so cheery, so perfectly yourself with your little apron, your butterfly clip, and your jokes – now you're a crumbled mess, and your heart is bleeding into his, staining the carpet under your feet like red wine. It's maroon.

“Don’t feel sorry fer me,” he says, trying to console you. “I made the mistakes tha’ led me here on my own, no one else.”

You wipe your cheeks furiously. “But this is no life to live, Michael,” you tell him. “People die. Children die. I mean, how many people you love have you buried? That is not something you should even have to ask yourself. You’re supposed to be human. Your life should not be a haunting existence. It shouldn’t be– it’s not supposed to be so painful that you can’t breathe anymore.”

His eyebrows furrow. He gets the feeling this isn’t just about him anymore. You’re making conclusions, and it sounds like less what he experienced and more like the memories of someone else.

He lets out a shaky breath, pulling your forehead down against his, his hand curling around the back of your neck. “What happened to you?” 

“Nothing, I… you went through so much–”

“This isn’t ‘bout me.”

“Yes, it is.” You choke back a sob. 

“Hey–“

“No, I can’t. You- I-” You can’t breathe. “I just want you to let me in so I can help you.”

“Let me in first.”

You can’t allow yourself to cry. It is you who should take care of him. It is he who suffered the most. It wouldn’t be fair of you to cry, to be weak when he has every right to be. 

“This is not your burden t’carry. You don’t have ta fix everythin’ that’s remotely broken. Yer human too, and I can tell yer in pain, so please…”

Your body shakes. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, and that’s all it takes for days of pent-up emotions to break out of you. No, you’re lying. It’s not just days, it’s months or years, or decades, even. Because being held is not something people do for you. 

At first, you struggle against his grip, the feeling so alien, you don’t want him to see you like this.

Whenever you’re like this, you’re empty. You’re useless like this. That’s one of the reasons why you cry in the shower; you don’t exist there. And once you’re done crying, you can put your mask back on and pretend you’re okay until you’ve convinced yourself.

"Stop," he tells you firmly.

He's stronger than you. You have nowhere to run. You have to face it.

"Stop," he repeats, and you let your limbs hang loose in defeat.

He holds you close to his chest as you curl into a ball, and that's when you start crying violently. You're not just sobbing; your body shakes with the force of your tears, and you can barely hold on as the flood threatens to take you away.

Michael is overwhelmed by the force of your emotions at first, but his instincts take over almost instantly when the sound of your strangled sobs reaches his ears. Whatever or whoever hurt you, the scars run deep. He wouldn’t have guessed from looking at you, which is why he’s so shocked when the waterfall crashes into you. You sound like you’re in pain, and that hurts him.

You told him your parents weren’t appreciative or supportive of your career choice, but he’s starting to feel like you lied to him. Or you convinced yourself that it was the truth to protect yourself. You’re good at being in denial. 

Someone with so much pain inside has to carry a deeper secret than unsupportive parents.

You cry until there is nothing left. You’re reduced to a shaking, whimpering mess, but he doesn’t pull away. Michael holds you through every last aftershock as if he was born solely just for this, and in his strong arms you find solace. You find a sanctuary from the tornado that follows you everywhere, ready to take you out whenever. 

He strokes your hair. He is affectionate, too affectionate, and the sweet nothings he whispers into your ear echo in your brain, instantly picked apart by the voices and the beast. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. 

“For what?” Michael asks softly. 

“Crying.”

“Why– Jesus Christ, what happened to ya?”

You don’t reply to his question. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat instead. 

You cried, you made it about yourself, and you can feel the sharp nails of guilt tearing your heart and soul to shreds. 

“Cryin’ is natural.”

It may be, but you’re not allowed to. Your next intake of breath comes gurgled. Your lungs refuse to accept the oxygen, choking you a blanket over open fire.

“Shh, it’s okay, just breathe,” he says. “Breathe.”

You inhale, then exhale through your mouth. 

“That’s it. I’ve got ya, and I’m not lettin’ go.”

He holds you until he feels your breathing calm down and your muscles slack under his touch. Your chest rises and falls in a steady but exhausted rhythm and you nuzzle closer to him.

He’s the first man you feel safe with. Michael protects you, even if it’s just from yourself right now, but he’s there. You’re not used to being on the receiving end of comfort, just like him. 

You remember being told that crying is a weakness, so you stopped. You knew crying would have consequences. You found other ways to channel your emotions. You swallowed them all and projected them on other people, constantly trying to fix them so you wouldn’t have to deal with yourself, and that slowly made you sick. 

But it has become an addiction; no therapy in the world can make this black hole in your chest go away. You’re supposed to be the light of everyone’s lives, and it is so strange to have someone hold you when the candle is about to blow out. 

Fuck. You are falling for him. 

Sleep evades you. He holds you for a while after you finally lie down, but he falls asleep to the sound of your heartbeat before you can. Every time you close your eyes, a million faces flash before them. 

You tried to bury the memories of your past a while ago, and it worked, but they are starting to resurface. Remnants of broken bones, split lips, and black eyes turn into an army. You remember the words that cut deeper than a knife, and you start tearing up again. 

Every time you close your eyes, you relive the godforsaken day in the hospital, a tiny body attached to several machines, and the steady rhythm of the heart monitor turning into a flat line. The constant beeping turns into a monotone, high sound, cutting straight through your heart. You remember feeling numb, your eyes filled with cotton as your mother broke down, and it was your responsibility to take care of her. You always had to take care of them because he never did. 

You push the blanket off your body. It’s getting too hot and the thick air makes it harder to breathe. The floorboards in the hallway offer a cooler temperature that soothes your skin. You’re wearing one of Michael’s shirts. It was comfortable only a few hours ago, but now the cotton is scratching at your skin like thousand tiny needles, and you tear it off your body. 

Wrapped in your silk robe, you retreat to the kitchen. The oven clock tells you it’s three in the morning. You settle at the dining table with a fresh cup of piping hot chai tea and allow the cinnamon to comfort your overwhelmed senses. As so often, you feel like you’re losing yourself, but this time it seems like you can’t reach for your own hand anymore. 

Your life is spiraling out of control, faster than you thought it would, your past catching up with you. It was bound to happen eventually, but it comes suddenly and without warning and that is terrifying. The unknown is terrifying, and you can’t even save the person you love more than anything in this world – you’re so caught up in the grief of the past that you pushed away what you had, and now here you are, standing before the crumbling construct that is your life. 

The door to the kitchen opens. You don’t notice at first because you are lost in thought and except for a vanilla candle you lit, there is no light in the apartment. You jolt when you catch a glimpse of a tall shadow, your lungs grasping for her as your muscles tense up and you flinch hard enough for your head to hurt from the sudden movement. 

Michael turns the light on, causing you to jump out of your chair only to relax visibly when you see him. You let out a sigh of relief, but the tears well up in your eyes regardless. You’re supposed to feel safe. 

“‘m sorry,” he mutters sleepily. “Didn’t mean ta scare ya.” His accent is thicker, you notice.

His hair stands in all possible directions and he looks as if he woke up from a very deep slumber. 

You place a hand against your chest. “It’s okay,” you lie, “I just got startled.”

“Are ya okay, love?”

“Yeah.” Your words are all lies. 

“Hm–” he rubs his eyes. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

“No, just couldn’t sleep.” You wipe your nose. “Chai tea?” you ask him. 

Michael shrugs but takes your mug anyway to take a sip. “Thanks,” he says. 

“You should go back to bed.”

“Comin’?”

“No.”

“Then ‘m not goin’.”

“Stubborn.”

“Yeah.”

“You want your own chai?”

“That’d be grand.”

And that’s how you end up on your living room floor in complete darkness at three in the morning, each of you holding a mug with hot Chai Tea in it. His has a little more cinnamon and you experimented with some caramel. He poked fun at your unicorn mug, but when he saw the dinosaur cup on your shelf, he quickly shut his mouth and took that one. 

Sitting with him in silence is comfortable. The warmth of the chai tea seeps into your hands. You watch the fragrant steam rise. The taste is familiar and has often carried you through bad times. It's your comfort drink.

The world outside feels insignificant now as you're sitting in the darkness together. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall becomes a lullaby. You focus on the sound that has a consistency to it, distracting you from the elements of your subconscious that keep resurfacing. Time seems to hold its breath.

You reach out to touch his thigh. He takes your hand, seeing right through you. You’re not sure how he does it, but he has a way of seeing you that makes you feel important. It makes you feel like you might be good enough without trying too hard. It’s all you have been waiting for. You’re not religious, and you don’t pray, but you often hoped for more than just a plane ticket to Dublin but for someone or something to find their way into your life and somehow make you feel seen for the first time in your life. And you’ve been through many partners before meeting Michael, all of them failing miserably at treating you the way Michael proves that you deserve. 

“Are we ever gonna talk?” you ask. “Or are we just gonna pretend there’s no secrets between us?”

He lifts his head from the cushions. He glances at you, then at the clock on the wall. 4 am. “I dunno,” he answers honestly. 

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I just want ya to be okay.”

“I know. That's what I want for you, too."

"But my life is complicated. I told ya. You saw it. Yer far too good for the kind of shadows that surround me."

"Maybe there are things you don't know about me," you whisper. "Have you ever thought about that?"

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Somethin' ya want t' share with me?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No. Just saying."

"Yeah, that's what I'm doing too. Just sayin'."

You're speaking without saying anything, and that's not a healthy foundation, but you need each other.

Each second feels like an hour. Your eyes meet Michael's, and you see the longing and trepidation within the honey-hazel color of his irises. The vulnerability at that moment is palpable, and you find solace in the fact that you're not alone.

You’re both people who hate uncertainties and perhaps you’re not the only one terrified of not-knowing. It’s a frustrating state of being. 

You place your head on his shoulder. His lips brush your temple. Your fingers are still intertwined in his lap, and he takes his other hand to stroke through your unruly bed hair. The clock keeps ticking while you stay there in silence, not moving until the first red glow of the sunrise shows on the horizon. 

“I often sleep on the floor,” Michael admits then. “In prison, the beds were hard, so I sleep on the floor now.”

You close your eyes, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry,” you whisper in a fleeting, hushed tone. 

“It’s not your fault.”

You reach up, brushing away your tears, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of Michael's lips. His touch lingers on your cheek. 

“C’mon, let me get the mugs.” He takes the empty chai from you, followed by his own before he makes his way to the kitchen. With precision, he washes the dishes and stacks them on the rack beside your sink, leaving them to dry. 

When he turns around and heads back into the now dimly lit living room, you are curled up on the floor as he so often does, your eyes closed and your body lulled into a state of forced relaxation. The exhaustion must have knocked you out, and he doesn’t blame you. Your body needs it. 

Michael lifts you up carefully, making sure not to drop you as he carries you back to bed. He may be sleeping on the floor rather often, but that’s not something he wants you to do when it’s not necessary – your back will eventually suffer. 

You don’t seem to mind the mattress for you roll onto your stomach and fall right back asleep when he lays you down gently. He remains next to you throughout the early morning hours, watching you sleep and hoping that once you wake up, you can feel at least a little better. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @your-not-invisible-to-me @glowstick-lesbian @ms-murdockswift @acharliecoxedfan @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattmurdocksscars @roseallisonparker @1988-fiend @norestfortheshelbywicked

[vquacki]

It's My Fatherly Duties!

It's My Fatherly Duties!

Short DAD Scenarios 

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

~ Inui Seishu, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa, 

~ Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI

Note : requested, I added some characters. Hope ya don’t mind! These are pretty short, just little things I put together. Word barf kinda..? Anyways- I hope you enjoy :))

R I N D O U 

His lashes fluttered open when he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, along with a string of cuss words sounding like his daughter's voice. 

“What the hell was that?” You groaned, not a single word was uttered from your husband when he sprung out of bed, bolting to the bedroom down the corridor.

“Tohru?!” Rindou yelled, flinging open the door. Revealing your teenage daughter fully dressed, half way through her second story window. A facade of pillows under her blanket seeminging meant to be her ‘sleeping body’.

“Oh dad, I-”

“What the hell are you doing” The man was fuming by the ears, pajamas ruffled when he jolted out of his slumber. 

“Is Tohru okay?” You peeked from behind the broad shouldered man. 

“I was just going to get fresh air!” Your daughter lied, making up a somewhat excuse to appease her angered father. 

“Hey Tohru! Hurry up and get down here!” You heard a boy's voice call out, looking over at Rindou’s face to see the man's darkened expression.

“Who the fuck is down there? Is that a boy?!” He growled, stomping his feet over to the glass. Pushing past his daughter to take a look. 

“Oh shit- her dads here. Let’s book it!” The kids whispered, but loud enough for Rindou to make out, hastily running down the dark street. 

“You little shits! Don't you dare come back here!” Rindou growled, slamming the window shut in the process. 

“What! Dad!” Tohru whined, 

“You're so grounded young lady!” Rindou shouted, not caring for the sleeping neighbors beside his shared condo at three in the morning. 

“Rin, she was just having some fun!” You defended, you were also like her when you were her age, trouble makers run in your blood. Actually Rindou couldn't even talk- he was running roppongi at her age.  

“No! She's just too young to be hanging out with boys!” Rindou’s brows joined together as he withered in front of you. 

“But we dated when we were her age-” You deadpanned at him, 

“Grounded! My final answer!” 

R A N  

Ran was coming home from a late night bonten meeting, mouth agape when he saw his daughter’s feet dangling out from her window. 

Fearing the worst he sprinted to the ground below his child, hands outstretched to catch her if she were to misstep. 

“Mitsuri!” His voice boomed,

“Eh? Dad?!” His daughter stuttered, slowly slid out the window, climbing down like she had done this many times prior to this awkward occurrence. 

Toes easily touching the grass with ease, not a scratch upon the females porcelain skin. 

“Ran?” You yawned, cracking the door ajar. It was late, you waking up to your husband's screams outside your house. 

“Mitsuri, what are you doing climbing out your window like a maniac?!” Ran scowled, hands running through his messed up hair. Sweat dripping down his temple from the not so pleasant adrenaline rush. 

“I was just gonna hang out with some friends..” your daughter answered, fingers gripping the edge of her shirt, scarily waiting for her dad’s reaction. 

“At this time of night? .. out your window?”

“Ye-”

“Phone privileges. Give me it.” Ran demanded, palm stretched out. 

“But-” no question she was a tad bit spoiled by her father. You being the bad cop, while your husband played the good cop for his beloved daughter. 

“If you want to go anywhere all you got to do is ask!” Ran plucked the phone from his daughter's hand, a wave of relief washing over him. Secretly thanking whatever being watching over him that it wasn't some sort of gang related subject. 

“This is what you get for spoiling her!” You laughed from the sidelines, hand clutching your stomach.

“This is your fault too ya know!” Ran argued. 

“I’m the one who tries to discipline her! But someone always lets it go!” You emphasized the special somebody. 

“Whatever” Ran sighed, This was a lesson for the usual carefree man, a special lesson he wouldn't forget in the many years to come with his unborn future children. 

S A N Z U 

It was Sanzu’s best day of his life when his daughters were born, the two only being about one year apart. They were spoiled to the core, anything they wanted their money liberl father blessed them with. He thought they were the sweetest things ever, them both being a daddy's girl after all. 

He never would have expected to see both of his daughters outside his humble abode, standing beside two boys, most likely a double date. 

He stared in shock, hands pressed firmly against the glass, teeth gritting. 

“Huh? I tucked them into bed an hour ago” You rubbed your eyes, riding yourself of the sleepiness threatening to drown you. The pink haired only tutted his teeth, swifty twisting the door knob to confront the four children outside. 

“Oh you better run” your oldest daughter whispered, gesturing for the boys to make haste from her deadly father. 

“You better not come back here, unless you want trouble you fuckers!” Sanzu yelled, red in the eyes from anger. Not bothering to chase after the two scoundrels. 

“Dad, mom! What are you guys doing awake?” Your youngest asked, sheer panic in her eyes, watching her insane fathers unpleasant smile. 

“I swear you two will be the death of me” Sanzu uttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. A irked gleen in his orbs as he stared them down. 

“They were just friends dad, stop overreacting” the older daughter said, 

“I- You little shi-” He bit his lip to suppress his anger fueled words, knowing well it would definitely hurt his precious children's feelings. Having regretted it later if he were to say those sinful words. 

“Now now Sanzu, let's head to bed” You wrapped your arms around your lover, dragging him inside the house. 

“You can sort out their punishment tomorrow, after a good night's sleep” , coating him with reassuring words. That day he learned how misjudged he was of his children, even so he still loved them with all his heart.

I Z A N A 

Izana had his feet kicked up, relaxing in his office while he watched the moon. He had a clear view, the street lamps positioned next to the sidewalk, the side of his beautiful house facing his office window. He was enjoying his free time, mind taking over his body while he thought about his life choices. He was in ease until he saw his son's window light up, a long string of rope being tossed out the opening. 

Sitting up from his chair, he rushed over to his clear casement. Throwing his window open, a boy and girl standing beneath his son's window. The two holding the rope still as your child tried to slid down. 

“My my Yuki, where are you off to?” Izana laughed, nerves finally relaxing when he figured out what was going on. Calmly settling into the frame, head leaning on his chin. It wasn't like he had the right to be upset, he did much worse when he was his son's age. Robbing, fighting, killing. You name it, Izana’s done it. 

Sneaking out was nothing compared to what he did, but he wasn't gonna just let his son go. He was more wise now, he knew for a fact he didn't want his son to end up anything like him. Sure, he wanted the boy to have fun, but in a normal kid way. 

“Dad! Um- I”

“You better get your arse back up that window before I drag you around with that rope” Izana smiled, Totally different from the sentence he was portraying. Not forgetting his manners, giving a nonchalant wave to the other two kids. 

“Zana? Who are you talking to?” You asked, placing a cup of tea you had prepared for Izana on his desk. 

“Oh no one doll” Izana answered, closing the window before walking over to you. 

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He proposed, trailing his hands around your shoulders, guiding you to the door.

“But the tea I made”

“Im tired~” 

Overall the male wouldn't want to talk further about the situation, nor would he discuss it with you. Trivial matters held no place between you both, as long as the child did not dare do it again. 

I N U I 

Inui wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, the AC wasnt working at the motor shop. Him, draken and yourself were sweating bullets, the hot material around you not helping. You had decided to help the pair around the shop, cleaning what you could. Or helping with cashing every customer out, it would've been an easy task if it wasn't blazing hot. 

Leaving your daughter home alone, obviously thinking she’d stay and do her teenage things. You couldn't be more mistaken, astounded as you watched her fiddle around with a boy across the street at the ice cream parlor. 

“Y/N please don't tell me that Kagura..” Inui’s jaw dropped, the wrench that was once in his clasp dropping to the ground. Startling the concentrating Draken that was crouched over a motorbike. 

“What's wrong Inui? Y/N” Draken twisted his body around, raising a brow when you two just started muttering to each other like two creeps. 

“Is that... a boy” Inui held his chin between his fingers, squinting to get a better view of his kid. 

“You trying to catch flies with your mouth Inui? Close your yap” You whispered, 

“Y/N! She's too young, I feel like I just held her in my arms not too long ago. She can't get married just yet!” Inui argued, he would've been on the verge of tears if he didn't have a reputation to uphold. 

“What? The fuck are you on Inui? She's probably just with a friend!” You patted his back, reassuring the man. 

“Boys and girls can be friends ya’know” you added.

Cueing the two children across the road from you, feeding scoops of ice cream to each other.

“I don't think friends do that..” Inui looked over at you, eyes widening when you swung the motor shop’s door open. Hands coming around your mouth to amplify your words,

“Kagura, is that your boyfriend?” 

“WHAT?” Inui almost fainted, the ledge behind him holding his wobbly frame up right. 

“I didn't know you guys would be here!” Your daughter jogged across the street, leaving the boy sitting by himself. 

“And no! Just a friend” She answered your embarrassing, blushing as she stared down at the ground.,

“I sense some lies” you wiggled playfully at the flustered girl. 

“What! Anyways, Sorry I left the house without telling you” Kagura apologized, 

“Just don't do it again, without my permission..” Inui stated, 

“Especially not with a boy.”

K O K O N O I

Bribing people is his forte, and if they did not obliged? Threatening always did the trick. 

And that's exactly what he did when he saw his descendant out with a male. All was dandy until the boy came running back, babbling about how his girl was the so called ‘love of his life’.

“Hey brat, you got a death wish?” Kokonoi asked, leaning against the door frame. 

“Koko go easy on him, he’s just a kid” You nudged the man, a mischievous grin plastered on the males face. 

“And I kinda think it's cute” You said, a small smile erupting from your daughter that was not so far behind her parents. 

“I approve, kid! I like your romantic drive!” You clapped, 

“Y/N!” Kokonoi pouted, 

“You better not try to bribe him with money again” You threatened, waving a finger at the whiny man. 

“Yeah! I like him too, dad!” Your daughter agreed. 

“You're like twelve, go play chess or something” Kokonoi barked, crossing his arms in disapproval. 

“Dad, I'm sixteen!” 

“That's what I said” 

S O U Y A 

He almost had a panic attack at the sight, having to shield the man from the scene playing out. Your twin daughter saying their goodbyes to their dates, followed by a kiss. You removed your hand when the boys were no longer in view, riding off in their motorcycles. 

“Shira, Nihra” You held Souya up by the shoulder, the light headed male limping towards the worried kids.

“What's wrong with dad?” Nihra questioned, eyeing her ghostly pale father. 

“He's out of it” You giggled, 

“I'm not crazy am i?” He stood tall, letting go of the arm you had draped around him. 

“There was boys-” His voice cracked. 

“You saw that dad?” Shira sweat dropped, watching as her fathers should leave his body. 

“Next time ask before you go out” You smiled, you weren't too strict on the two. They were Souya’s children, earning most of their adorable traits from him. Even his fighting skills. 

“This better not happen again, i'm trusting you” Souya grumbled.

“Sorry pops” The two girls remorsefully sollied the man, both hooking onto one of Souya’s arms as they helped his shell into the house. 

N A H O Y A 

Nahoya was beyond pissed, infamous smile widening. Taking fast steps towards your daughter and her significant other. 

“Look boy, I don't know who you are. But my daughters not up for grabs” Nahoya grinned, cracking his fingers. 

“O-okay sir” the boy was jittering, body trembling from the males intense arua. 

“If I catch ya here again” he used his finger to slash his neck, motioning to the death that would happily greet the boy if they were to ever meet again.

“Yer dead meat kiddo”  Nahoya laughed, watching as the boy ran for his life. 

“Dad, that was really extra!” Your daughter sneered, a pout on her lips. 

“Shut up!, you're grounded rat!” Nahoya shouted. 

“Yeah Nahoya, there was no need to threaten the poor kid. He looked like he was gonna piss himself.” 

“Exactly the effect i wanted”

End Note : as I said this was a word barf T-T, so it’s quite short.

Reblogs & Notes are always appreciated! Take care! ♡︎♡︎

[yanderechuu]

Short-winded

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3K]

Summary: You are being forced out of your shell by your classmates, but now it seems more for their on benefit than that of your own.

Warning: anxiety, stalking

│

For someone who resented public attention, it came with shock when you announced you had wanted to become a hero.

You were the definition of social anxiety, often finding solace within the four corners of your room, and if not, then the kitchen of your house would do. So the worst form of betrayal your guardian could ever do to you was to send you off to U.A. dorms, practically miles away from the comfort of your own home. In the worst attempt to guilt-trip them, you claimed they were disowning you; still, they were adamant of the opportunity that you’d ease on socializing. 

What you didn’t know was that your guardian had warned your homeroom teacher of your current ‘predicament’ (they’d call it a predicament; you’d call it your own nature), and requested if possible that you’d be compelled to engage in social interaction until you were comfortable with it. Aizawa agreed, seeing to it that if your own guardian personally addressed it to him, then it must really be a matter not to be taken lightly of. He had seen your tendencies, too - like when you would be called out for recitation, always having the answer at the tip of your tongue, wanting to roll it out so you could sit down. In the end, you would never find the courage to respond, and your classmates would assume that you didn’t know the answer to the question, while only you and your teacher would know otherwise. You were silent about your opinions during group hero training, only ever abiding whatever your classmates’ plans were, despite the little hiccups and uncertainties you would recognize in secret (but they were rare, anyway, as most of the time you only heeded those of Bakugou’s or Midoriya’s or Yaoyorozu’s).

Only when your guardian had approached him did Aizawa come to realize that, oh, he had never really heard you speak. Now that he thought about it, what did your voice sound like? The last time he heard it was when you had asked an incoherent query after homeroom lessons regarding hero laws. He had asked you to repeat it again, and again, and again, until when he had said, “sorry?” you bore this flushed, troubled look, raising your hands in front of you and waving them, exclaiming, “n-nothing, never mind. Sorry.”

He never understood what you were supposed to say, that was until he rectified the short essay quizzes held by the end of the period, where you got less than half percent correct. You had a different perspective of the hero law discussed, and Aizawa was willing to bet that your attempted question was about the lesson prior. Ever since then he took it as a habit to ask if you - specifically - had any questions regarding homeroom discussions. You would cower in embarrassment, knowing that the root of his habit came from when you had asked him something he couldn’t even hear, nevertheless you found it in yourself to respond by nodding. At least now you didn’t have to muster up the courage to approach him since he would approach you instead. 

Anyway, it was already much apparent to him that you had a dilemma with your social life (if you ever even had one), and so he addressed this to the class once when you were called to the faculty to ‘discuss’ things with Present Mic, your English teacher (Aizawa just told him to keep you busy as he spoke to his class).

Most expressed their concern, especially when he said that this could affect your hero affiliation in times of inevitable joint cooperation or recruiting of sidekicks and whatnot. It was not necessarily their responsibility, Aizawa expounded, but if possible, then they should get you to interact with them as much. Mina was most resolved in getting to befriend someone like you, a little bit ahead of Izuku, who wanted to befriend you partly due to his curiosity of your quirk. The rest thought of this as a casual ordeal, and a few saw to it as a bothersome matter that could be handled by the social butterflies of the class. 

Well.

Being approached by Izuku and his friends was the least of your expectations when recess began. Usually, you’d prepare your own lunch to prevent having to go to the crowded place, and eat in peace inside the classroom with Aoyama who normally paid you no mind. He would give you a cheese or two, but it was nothing that you couldn’t deal with. Besides, the cheese actually tasted delicious. 

Izuku insisted you come with them to the cafeteria, and when you gave him only an anxious and weirded-out look, Uraraka saved you both from awkwardness by pushing you out of the classroom door - to which her touch you quivered at. In the corridors, Iida gave a lecture about how being with friends helped with your general health - you didn’t know whatever the hell he meant by that, because you weren’t even friends with them. Shoto kept giving you glances from time to time, and when you both met eyes, you were the first to break contact; he found himself smiling lightly in amusement. You ransacked your brain for excuses to avoid being around them, but before you knew it, you were urged to sit down on their usual table, where also Jirou, Momo, and Hagakure sat. You were on the corner of the table - across Izuku and beside Uraraka - overwhelmed and irate by the abrupt proceeding of things. This was coercion - they didn’t even ask if you were okay with it - and, quite frankly, a burst of your own personal bubble. You wanted out, but how could you, when you couldn’t even find it in yourself to stand up?

Their conversations were sundry; in any of them, you engaged in none. Even Shoto was more participative than normal in attempts to get you along. It was then when they realized they had not a single information about you. Hagakure didn’t even know your first name, as Aizawa only ever called you by your last, and when the rest of your classmates clarified it was ‘(y/n),’ she complimented it, as if it would help you be at ease around them.

“Oh, what a pretty name!” She exclaimed. “It kind of fits well with... (n/n)[nickname]. Can I call you (n/n)-chan? Like Tsuyu-chan!”

“...well,” you voiced out in the most minimal volume, and their happiness upon hearing your voice was sickeningly evident. You sighed, “sure.”

Even Iida dedicated himself to calling you that. That was okay, you thought, because it wasn’t like you would be spending almost all the time with them. Right; this was a one time thing. Never gonna happen again. You’d commit unalive before it could. 

But you didn’t commit fast enough.

By the time dismissal came you rushed out of the classroom and to the restroom to avoid meeting with Izuku and his friends just in case they also had plans on robbing you of your personal time in dismissal. You went to a restroom that was not on the floor level of class 1A - you were sure your female classmates would spend minutes upon minutes in there - and waited for thirty minutes. You literally counted 1,800 seconds in your mind as it was the only way to withhold the bubbling anxiety inside you without looking like an oddball, doing box-breathing techniques alone and all that - though some students from different classes were wondering why you remained on your spot in that restroom. 

Upon mentally saying the last second, you dashed out of the restroom and to the school building entrance, passing by your homeroom teacher on the way but not bothering to spare him a greeting. You hoped he would assume you just did not see him as you were brisk-walking. He would later on probably ask why you were still in school thirty minutes past dismissal.

U.A. dorms came to view and never had a bigger wave of relief washed over you. Today had been a hectic day, and you congratulated yourself for enduring the school hours that included socializing; perhaps you deserved a reward after all this. There was a quaint café a couple of minutes away from U.A., beside a convenience store; maybe you should try the sweets there on the weekend. No one knew about it, as it did not look like one, but that was why you decided to try it out. Small, tranquil, and picturesque - exactly what you needed.

Quietly, you opened the entrance door, and slipped in headfirst to see if you could go inside undetected. Unfortunately for you, you came in unexpected eye contact with Denki.

“(Y/n), hey!” He called from the dining area, smiling brightly. That was weird; you didn’t remember being first-name bases with him, and were disarrayed with the fact that he just greeted you when he normally wouldn’t. “Where’d you come from that you returned this late?”

“U-um, uh,” you looked down, “I... walked slowly...”

“Well you sure took your time. C’mere, Bakugou’s cooking.”

“I’m only doing it ‘cause you won’t shut up unless I do it, damn Pikachu!” Yelled the cook. 

This time, you just had to refuse. “N-no thanks, I’m... I’m busy.”

Just as you proceeded to stroll your way to your room, you came into an abrupt halt by Kirishima, who was sitting on the common room, waiting for Bakugou’s cooking.

“Busy with what?”

“Huh?”

“We have no homework given for the weekend.” He explained, looking at you from over the sofa. “So... what’s keeping you busy?”

At this point, not only was he the one to stare at you, but so were Denki and Bakugou, who skeptically raised a brow in anticipation of your answer; in anticipation of your presence in the common room, as if he was expecting that you’d try out his cooking, too. Shoto and Izuku ended their conversation at once upon seeing you by the dorm elevator, halted and wide-eyed, like a deer caught on headlights.

For your small, silent, anxiety-stricken self, this was too much.

“C-can you...” you pleaded, voice scarcely above a whisper, “can you not...”

You wanted to voice out if they could stop looking at you like that - surely they could, couldn’t they? You felt supremely inferior to their stares and it didn’t help that most of them were deemed a few of the strongest in the class. It felt like they were going to use their quirk on you and, against them, your quirk was rendered futile.

You ran to the opposite hallway, opting to walk the set of stairs to your dorm level in lieu of using the elevator. You heard Kirishima’s yell of your name - “(y/n), wait!” - but made no attempt to slow down for him to catch up to you. He didn’t follow you, anyway, only abruptly standing from the cushion when you made a run for it along the hall, then falling back down in defeat, with a sigh escaping his lips.

“Man, she’s like Amajiki-senpai but kind of worse.”

“Well?” Denki queried. “Aren’t you gonna go after her?”

“I want to, but I feel like she’ll just... ignore me.”

Denki sighed. “And you say you’re a man.”

“Hey, I am!” He slumped on the couch. “I just know the right timing, which isn’t now. Probably later, or when Mina’s around. Maybe she’s more comfortable with girls.”

That was a funny joke, because your anxiety doesn’t discriminate, and you were uncomfortable around boys and girls and nonbinaries and basically everyone and everything in and beyond the gender spectrum either way. 

You didn’t think of going out to fill your stomach before going to sleep, fearing the tension between you and your classmates who had witness the small encounter prior. By the time evening came, though, a knock was heard on your room’s entrance. You opened it begrudgingly, and in front of you appeared the face of the pinkette. Beside her was Kirishima.

“Hi, (y/n)!” Mina exclaimed brightly, much like how Denki had a few hours ago. “I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet. Come on!”

You were about to decline such a generous offer, but just then, your stomach churned in agreement against your will.

“...fine.”

As you three walked the corridor towards the stairs, Kirishima sauntered beside your form.

“Hey, uh, sorry about a while ago. I knew you weren’t comfortable with us but I still persisted with asking.”

He appeared to be genuinely sincere with the apology, with his palm on the back of his neck and eyes averting to everywhere but you, and the faint red on his cheek made him look less intimidating.

“It’s... it’s fine, you know.” Again, your voice was practically just an exhale. You turned the other way. “I’m sorry for running away like that. It was rude.”

Because of your consideration to apologize on your behalf, he found the confidence to grin at you without guilt. “It’s completely fine! At least now we’re on good terms, yeah?”

“Mm.”

This interaction didn’t stop you from preferring to be alone in your room. But you were hungry, and your stomach wasn’t relenting. As you sat on the corner of the sofa in the common room, Sero, with a grin, handed you your plate of [favorite dish].

“It’s your favorite food, right? Bakugou insisted to make it just for you.”

You slightly smiled at the thoughtfulness.

Then your face dropped in shock.

And so did the others’.

You blinked once, twice, then slowly looked at him in unnerved suspicion. “How did you know?”

“You sound like a stalker, Sero!” Denki whined abhorrently. “Freaking creep. Trust me, (y/n), it’s just that we noticed you always pack that for lunch. I got to say, though, I don’t blame you for liking [favorite dish].” He took a piece from your plate.

Alright, that sounded reasonable. Anything to keep you from the aching paranoia that they were actually watching what you did.

“And here I was trying to start things pleasant with (y/n).” Sero dramatically heaved, though somehow he still exuded this chilling vibe. It barely helped you with having to be around all these social butterflies. 

From the other side of the common room were Momo, Jirou, and Hagakure, who played with a bunny borrowed from Koda. It didn’t help you at all that they spotted you from your place in the sofa. 

“(N/n)-chan!” Along with your gaze, the rest of your classmates with you looked at them. “Wanna hold Koda’s pet rabbit? Right here!”

“No!” Yelled Mina right beside you, bringing a faint ring to your ears. You weren’t used to noise, having been always keeping to yourself. She brought you into a tight side embrace, and although she felt you tense under her hold, she ignored it for the sake of saying, “(y/n)’s staying here.”

“Unfair! You’ve had your share of time with her,” what? There was a planned time of when you were supposed to hang out with one group and the other? “now it’s our turn!”

“Please, you’ve had your time during recess! The rest of the night, she spends it with us.” Mina explained, nodding in agreement to herself. Her friends within her clique seemed to like the idea. Oh no. You did not want to spend the rest of your night with people you barely even knew. What would they do to you? Why were they being so revoltingly clingy all of a sudden? 

Again, you wanted out, pleading yourself to convene the courage to say that- 

“No, I don’t want to hang out with you, I just want to go back to the solace of my own room, just watch or read or sleep or anything else that won’t have anything to do with socializing with you all!”

Unfortunately, that was all just in your head.

“I don’t mean to intervene personally, but,” Momo started, promptly leaving her cup of tea on the table, “during recess, she talked mostly to Midoriya and Uraraka. I think it’s about time I get to be with her.”

“But I didn’t get to be with her at all.” Sero counterargued. “Therefore, she’s staying right here.”

Jirou derided, “As if she wants to get along with you. (Y/n), you wanna pet this rabbit or not?”

“Don’t bribe her with something that isn’t even yours!” Exclaimed Kirishima.

“Well, is she yours?”

“N-not at all, but neither is she yours!”

“(N/n)-chan, come here, pretty please?”

“I’m telling you! She's already comfortable here. See? All snug and comfy in my arms.”

“You’re not giving her a chance to decide where she wants to be!”

“Shut the hell up, you damn extras.” Bakugou’s voice, albeit neither soft nor strong in volume, was the loudest of them all. His presence was also the strongest and most intimidating, and you were unable to suppress the reflex to recoil when he leaned on you from behind the sofa, breathing practically against your neck. “(Y/n) stays here.”

The decision was determined from then on. Frustration was prominent on Momo and Jirou’s countenances, and Hagakure was silent for the rest of the night, going back to Koda’s room in order to return his pet rabbit. Mina moved you to the center of the couch so Bakugou could sit on your other side, and when he did, you felt the strong radiance of heatwaves from his body. He would be a perfect cuddler for the winter season. It always felt too cold or too hot whenever you were with people, but you refused to make a personal heater out of him.

“Alright!” From beneath you where he sat, Denki exclaimed. “Who’s up for a horror movie?”

It was not like you had much of a choice, anyway. Whether you loved it or not, a horror movie was being played in the common room’s television, and you had to sit throughout the whole two hours of it with all of Bakugou’s squad hovering around you. You weren’t sure what was scarier; the film, or the fact that discourse broke just a few minutes ago regarding whom you were ending up with. But if anything, you’d rather watch this alone than with these outlandish people claiming to be your friends and acting as if they didn’t ignore you and tend to their own business just yesterday.

[cazzyvintage]

Perfectly exasperating

Synopsis: You really disliked Zemo, but one person you disliked more? John Walker. After bonding over how you disliked him with Zemo, you have the unfortunate situation of running into John. He flirts, insults, and hurts you and Zemo is ready to put him in his place.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/Tags: Use of swear words, John Walker being a dick, soft Zemo, protective Zemo

Author’s note: I was not intending this fic to come out as long as it did. This was one of the ones I had been putting off to write other stuff till I finally pulled myself around to writing it and ended up getting really into it. Funny how that happens.

Masterlist

Sequel

Part 3

Part 4

“Would you care for a Turkish delight?”

You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance, refusing to even look at him. Instead of forcing your eyes to focus on a spot in front of you, not moving them in the slightest. Zemo waited for a few moments before sighing and turning away from you.

“You’ll eventually have to talk to me, y/n” he exclaims as he walks over to the kitchen side of the room. You were sitting in the safe house Zemo had provided. There wasn’t much to do, just sit and wait till the funeral started. Zemo sought to communicate to you to keep you two occupied, but you didn’t want to talk with him, so you didn’t. You just sat on the settee, staring at the sofa opposite you while Zemo walked around looking through the cupboards for food.

You were pissed when Bucky revealed he broke Zemo out of prison.

The avengers had been your family. Whenever you needed them Steve would be there to offer you advice, Tony there to make you laugh. Nat there to beat up whoever required it. Everything was wonderful in your life. For once. And he had ruined it.

He caused the family you loved to split, hate each other, and that left you alone. So alone. Losing both Tony and Steve made you more mad at Zemo. He robbed the last years you could have spent with them, so yeah, no wonder you refused to talk to him.

He loved to annoy you, though. Any moment he got he was beside you, creating sarcastic remarks about what was happening, trying to joke around with you. Trying anything to communicate with you. The worst of it was when he insisted you had to be his date on the mission in Mandripoor. Feeling his arm wrap around you, a kiss to your temple, the smell of his cologne flooding you, drawing you in. It pissed you off knowing how easily you fit into the role of his date. Yet you knew deep down why. Every time he made a snide remark, you had to bite your tongue to stop making one back. Every time he tried to joke with you, it took all your effort not to snort. You hated him and everything he does, yet you could sense a fondness growing for him, just a slight one, in the deepest corner of your heart. Left there to be locked away. Never acknowledged.

“So, the new Captain America, huh? What’s he like?” you hear Zemo ask, leaning on the counter of the kitchen table, his eyes burning into the side of your head.

You feel bile rise to your mouth as he spoke.

John Walker.

John fucking Walker.

If you hated Zemo, you despised John Walker. Just thinking of him brought a scowl to your lips. Steve meant everything to you. He was a father figure to you. He stood for all you believed in. He was your hope, your light in the darkness. And John Walker seemed to tarnish it. You wouldn’t have minded him if he was a different mascot for America. If he became America’s new hope. It was the fact that they called him Captain America. That he had the shield. The title belonged only to Steve. He claimed he wasn’t trying to replace Steve, but that is what he was doing. Him being called Captain America felt like a spit on Steve’s memory. People would forget him, everything he did for the country he loved. They would only focus on John Walker, and you detested that.

You didn’t blame Sam for giving away the shield, unlike Bucky. You could understand why he did it. That shield held such a responsibility, such a legacy it seemed impossible to ever live up to. No, you blamed the people who took the shield away from the museum. Without Sam’s permission. They should have asked Sam. But of course they didn’t care. They didn’t care at all.

“I see by your reaction that your impression of him isn’t a pleasant one,” Zemo says, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

“Have you met him?” he asks

You try to hold back your opinion, but John Walker made you so frustrated, you knew if you didn’t rant about him you would burst.

“Yes. He’s a dick,” you spit out

Zemo quickly straightens up, surprised you actually answered one of his questions.

“Oh? Are you finally speaking to me.” he inquires, walking around the kitchen counter towards you.

“Don’t push your luck” you mutter, side eyeing him as he sits down opposite you. Sam and Bucky were out leaving you alone with Zemo. At the moment you were all waiting till the funeral. Zemo claimed there were a few hours to kill before everyone had to gather. Sam and Bucky decided to check out the town, make sure they knew it well in case a situation occurred where we had to dash. They had forced you to babysit Zemo.

“No, no, I like to hear you talk. Please, if talking about how this new Captain America is a dick is how I get you to speak to me, then let’s continue.” Zemo says, pouring out a glass of whisky for you and him. He holds the glass out to you, an eyebrow raised. You sigh, grabbing the glass out of his hand and drank, feeling the warmth creep up your throat. Zemo chuckles as he watches you, leaning back on the sofa, his arms resting on top of it.

“My, my. The man must be terrible if just the thought of him is making you talk and accept drinks from me,”

“He’s so infuriating! He thinks because he is Captain America he can stick his nose in other people’s business!”

“Ah, so he is one of those people. Doesn’t understand boundaries. How rude,”

“And get this, he got annoyed at us! Telling us we should stay out of his way when he is the one getting in our bloody way!”

“No” Zemo fake gasps

“Yes!” you exclaim, going into a rant, “I can’t even bear to call him Captain America. He doesn’t deserve to be called that. His actual name is John Walker. He claimed he wasn’t trying to replace Steve, but that is exactly what he is doing! And how he talks to me as well. He’s so condescending, treating me as if I am a kid while trying to compliment me and act like he’s all that in front of me,”

Zemo’s eyes narrow and he places the glass down on the table between you two, “You mean he flirts with you?”

“If you could call that pathetic excuse flirting. I suppose. It pisses me off though,”

“I can imagine. He sounds nothing like what Steve was. Nothing like his legacy,”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes, watching Zemo curiously. “I assumed you hated Steve”

“I never hated him. No. I can admire what he stood for, I just find unrealistic. All superheroes are flawed. Innocents will consistently be collateral damage while superheroes are allowed to exist.”

You stare at Zemo, amazed. Not realising the silence you were making. You had always thought he hated Steve. It always seemed that way. Yet he didn’t? Knowing he didn’t hate the guy you always viewed as a father figure mattered to you. And you don’t know why.

Zemo stared back at you. He was studying your eyes, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He didn’t realise what he thought about Steve would have affected you, but it appears he was wrong.

“Don’t worry y/n we’re back and guess what! We found your fav-” Sam shouts, opening the doors of the room and strutting in but he pauses, noticing you and Zemo staring at each other from the sofa’s. “What’s going on here?”

Zemo is the one to pull out of the eye contact trance, smirking as he looks over at Sam, “We were just discussing John Walker.”

Bucky who had followed Sam in grounded at hearing Zemo utter that name. “Perhaps you two would like a drink and join us in considering how much of a dick he is?” Zemo asks, raising his glass to them.

A few hours later you walked down the street following Zemo to find his associate. You didn’t appreciate how secretive he was being, but you understood it. He had many people who wanted to get him, and the second he wasn’t useful to us. He would be doomed.

“It’s too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit” you hear a whiny voice shout. Peering up, you notice John Walker and his sidekick ‘Battlestar’ or whatever jogging down the steps towards you.

“Ah! How did you find us now” Bucky shouts with his arms raised, striding towards them.

“Come on. You really think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention,” his friend responds.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” John mutters angrily

Zemo, who you were walking besides, turns his head to you, “I understand what you mean by infuriating”

You chuckle as John looks angrily between you two, “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison,”

“He did that himself technically” Bucky replies, and Zemo grins at you, as if bragging about it.

“Aw, this better be an unbelievable explanation-” John Walker exclaims, reaching up to you.

“Hey take it easy before it gets weird,” Sam suggests, interrupting John.

“I know where Karli is,” Zemo reveals to John Walker, his seductive accent sticking out from the rest of them. He tries to walk past John. You, Bucky and Sam follow, but John stops him, placing a hand on his chest.

Zemo glares ahead, disgusted at John for even daring to touch him.

“Well, where” he says, getting into Zemo’s face

“All we know is, it’s a memorial so we are going to intercept her there,” Sam adds, trying to defuse the tension.

Zemo grabs John Walker’s hand and pushes it off him, striding forward again, and you jog to catch up with him.

“See why I call him a dick now,” you whisper

Zemo smirks, looking back at you, “Yes. He’s perfectly exasperating”

“What? No. Wait. No! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop. Okay?” John exclaims running forward and stopping you all in your tracks again after something Sam had said. “I think we are way past reasoning with her”

Zemo just stares ahead, fed up with John while you groan in annoyance. Not being able to even bring yourself to look at the man in front of you.

They argue for a few moments while you and Zemo stand idly to the side, Zemo glances at you rolling his eyes making you giggle. You smack his arm slightly trying to get him to stop making you laugh, but that only makes Zemo chuckle along with you. Eventually they calm John down but he glares over at Zemo, “We will deal with you later.”

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion” Zemo says, gesturing with his hands. He walks ahead, searching for his associate while John Walker moves beside you. You try to pick up your pace, but he keeps up.

“So working with a criminal now. Not very avengery like. I thought Zemo hated Steve. I wonder what Steve would think of you working with him,” he mutters peering at you.

“Need I remind you-you are also working with him now,”

“Come on, darling, don’t be like that,” John responds grinning, placing his palm on your back.

“Get your hand off me” you growl scowling at him

“Most women would fawn over me” John cockily resorts, still not removing his hand

“She asked you to remove your hand” you hear Zemo state, glancing over you see he had stopped walking forward, turned around and was now glaring at John. “Do I need to remove it for you?” he says angrily.

John frowns at Zemo. Finally, taking his hand off you and striding up to Zemo. Zemo tilts his head, his jaw clenching in fury as he stares at John.

“You are nothing but a dirty criminal. Don’t think for a second you can talk to me like that,”

“I will when you are being rude and disrespectful towards a lady,”

John scoffs, peeking over to you, then back to Zemo. Everyone else was standing to the side, not sure if they should intervene or not.

“What did she suck you off or something?”

Chaos ensured.

Bucky and Sam had to leap forward to stop Zemo from launching onto John while Battlestar had to hold John back. “Too far man, too far” he muttered to John

Zemo was snarling at John, his teeth bared in rage. His hair had fallen loose from their usual position and was hanging down over his forehead, giving him a more wild look. The vein in his neck stood out, twitching. His eyes were raging with fire as he looked at John. He kept trying to push past Bucky and Sam to get to John, but eventually gave up knowing it was futile.

You were standing at the side, shocked that John would have the ego to say something like that and at Zemo’s rage towards John for saying it. John adjusts his head. Not looking you in the eyes, but looking in your direction. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of said that”

Pulling your senses together, you walk up to John, glaring at him. “Yeah, you damn well shouldn’t have. You’re a dick. Nothing like Steve. You never will be,”

John wrinkles his nose in anger, frowning at your remark. You walk over to Zemo now that Bucky and Sam had let go of him. You give him a nod, showing your appreciation, and he nods back, though still glaring at John.

“Who I choose to associate myself with is none of your business. Who I choose to suck off is none of your business. Perhaps you can go fuck yourself and learn a bit of decency,” you spit at him.

A brilliant thought crosses your brain for another way to twist the dagger of your dislike into John. You reach out and grab onto Zemo’s hand, clasping it.

The action causes everyone to turn wide eyed to you. Including Zemo. He glances down at your hand in his then back to yours, surprise in his gaze but he immediately covers it up turning back to John smirking. He turns to behind himself, then back to the group.

“My associate is up ahead,”

You all turn to look forwards and see a little girl staring at you. Walking forward again, gripping his hand, Zemo nods to the girl as you all approach.

“Hello my friend,”

He holds out some money, a lot by the looking of it, and says to her, “This is for your family”

The girl hastily snatches it, obviously in need of it, and you can’t help but feel your heart warm a bit, seeing how kind Zemo was being to her.

“Can you show us the way?”

She beckons with her hands and walks forward. Zemo looks back at you, nodding to make sure you were okay, then follows her.

“What the hell” John murmurs from behind.

Following the girl, she leads you to a building. She turns, pointing inside a doorway, and runs inside not to be seen again.

“Karli’s in there,” Zemo tells the rest of the group. Sam replies and heads inside to talk to her while John suddenly grabs Zemo’s arm and yanks him against the machine on the wall.

Zemo moans as he is shoved into it, the hard outer piece hitting into his chest roughly.

“Hey. You’ve got ten minutes” John shouts to Sam as he takes out a pair of handcuffs and attaches them to Zemo.

“Really” Zemo mutters as John cuffs him to the machine.

“Then we are doing things my way,” John declares ignoring him

“Aggressive” Zemo jokes, though from his eyes you could still see the anger he harbors towards John.

He twists his head to watch John stride forward, staring at Sam, then back to him. “But I get it”

You wander over to stand by Zemo as you wait for Sam to talk to Karli.

“This day has brought a lot of changes. This morning you refused to say a single thing to me and now just moments ago you were holding my hand,” Zemo speaks quietly to you.

You shoot him a glare, “I did that to agitate John,”

“Sure, that was the only reason” but you knew from his eyes he didn’t believe you. They sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you.

“That cuff must bother you” you mention glancing over at them.

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy cuffs, in the right setting of course,” he quips.

You turn on your side, looking at him, your lips curling into a smile. If we are going to play that game, you thought.

“Oh, what setting would that be?”

Zemo’s smile deepened, enjoying seeing you play along, “I’m sure you would like to know”

“Do you have to do this here!” John exclaims, glaring at the two of you. You quickly step back from Zemo, forgetting that you two had company. Your eyes snap to Bucky’s with worry, but he wasn’t looking at you. He glared at the ground, not seeming to care what was happening between you and Zemo.

After that Zemo tried to engage you in conversation again but you effectively ignored him, going back to how you were treating him earlier, which you knew was frustrating him.

John was looking down at the shield, then squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, panting. Both you and Zemo glanced up, watching him cautiously. You glanced at Zemo and he stared back, confirming you were both thinking the same thing about Walker.

He got up and started shuffling towards the doorway. Both you and Bucky eyed at each other for the first time with the same recognition in your eyes. You leave Zemo’s side to walk over to where John was.

“No, no, no. This is a bad idea,” John mutters as he paces around. Zemo watches him like a hawk while you and Bucky stand side by side, arms crossed.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Sit tight,” Bucky replies.

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me,” he spits back, pacing around.

“He knows what he is doing,” you reply

There’s silence for just a moment. You watch as John turns towards you and walks fast, hitting his fist against the shield, “I’m going in”

Bucky walks forward and places his hand on John, stopping him from moving further.

He tries to antagonise Bucky, trying to make him guilty for what could happen to Sam. And you could tell his words were influencing him.

“You will not be going in till ten minutes are up,” you state sauntering over to them

“Oh, so the whore has something to say,” John spits out

In the back, Zemo growls, tugging on the cuffs that connected him to the wall. You feel the outrage prick up on you as John’s remark.

“Don’t call her that” Bucky says, glaring at John

“She’s been openly flirting with the terrorist over there, so yeah, I think it’s appropriate to call her that,” John bites back

You rush forward, attempting to punch John in rage, but he was able to sidestep you and brings the shield up, connecting it harshly to the side of your head. Pain soars across your face as you fall down onto the ground. You groan, your eyesight going dark around the sides and black patches covering parts of what you could see.

“BASTARD” you hear someone shout with a beautiful accent. From the floor, you can’t make out much of what is going on. Someone with a metal arm attacking another guy. A man with a shield being attacked by a man in a trench coat. It was all too confusing for you. You just wanted to sleep.

You could feel yourself fading in and out. Your eyes begging to close. You could hear shouting. Someone talking.

Your head was raised. Someone was holding it in their hands. Your vision is blurry but as they get nearer your eyes could focus on them. Beautiful brown eyes, messy brown hair, cute thin lips. It was him.

“Y/n!?” Zemo shouted at you, “Y/n stay with me”

“My head hurts” you mutter to Zemo as he lifts you up, placing you against the wall. Slowly your eyesight came back, and you could see your surroundings. Only you and Zemo were left.

“Zemo, where is everyone?” you ask turning your head, but in doing so it makes you feel incredibly dizzy. You groan as Zemo places a hand on the side of your face to stop you moving.

“They went after the Sam,”

“I need to help them!”

“No, you need to stay here and recover,”

You look over at the wall then back to Zemo, “How did you get out of the cuffs?” you ask

“Ah well…” Zemo says and glances down at his hand, your eyes follow and widen seeing his hand, bruising covering it, his thumb sticking out at an odd angle.

“You broke your hand to get out!?”

“Well, I couldn’t let him get away with saying those things and hurting you,” Zemo mutters, smiling slightly but you could see the pain flickering in his eyes, “I gave him a well-deserved punch in the face”

You chuckle at the thought. Leaning forward, you kiss him lightly on his forehead, a gesture of you wanting to ease his pain. You move back just in time to see him looking at you, surprised, before your vision faded.

Taglist: @multiyfandomgirl40 @ineffablebean @freyjasamael @avgravy @huntheimpossible @checkurwindow @there-goes-thefighter @bunniwritesx @montypythonsholysnail @yallgotkik @wonderwoman292

[sunfish-studies]

Celebration

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Cogs › | Next:  ‹ Let The Games Begin! ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of training calls for celebration for everyone’s hard work, so it’s barbeque time!

“All right, meat!”

“I’m starving!”

While the boys freshened up after practice matches, the managers were already on the move to prepare for the barbeque. Since there were quite a lot of people, the coaches decided to held it on the backyard of the gym, where the sharp hill stood just beside it. The coaches helped setting up the grills while the managers divided to cater different things.

Yachi decided she would get the utensils they needed; paper plates, chopsticks, paper cups, trays for rice balls, and other things. Shimizu would cover for the rice ball making, Yukie and Eri were in charge on cutting the vegetables in bite-size, Kaori and Mako would clean the vegetables before it was cut.

Meanwhile, you’re in charge of preparing the condiments and sauces, unwrapping the meat cuts, and arranged them on a bigger plate. Aside from that you had to make sure the meats searing on the grills weren’t charred.

“[Name]-chan, please replace me for cutting the onions,” Eri sobbed, reaching out to you with grabby hands.

“Alright, senpai,” you giggled in reply because Eri was clearly needing a break and watching the meats seared was a great break for her. Quickly, you stood on her place and started slicing the tear-induced-menaces after washing your hands.

It didn’t take long for you to suffer the same fate as the Ubugawa’s manager–the first seven slices went through without a hitch, but when you reached the tenth your eyes started to sting and blurry from the pain. Then tears began trailing down your cheeks, and you wiped it you’re your shirt sleeve.

“D-Don’t cry, [Name]-san!!” you looked up, seeing Hinata with his place face quivering on his feet. “W-what should I do!?”

“It’s fine, Shoyo-kun, it’s just the onions,” you sniffled pointed towards the bowl full of it. “It hurts my eyes.”

“I can take your place, Otohaku-chan!” Lev popped up beside Hinata.

“Instead of cutting the onions, you’ll chop your fingers off,” Yaku deadpanned before offering. “Here, let me do it.”

“No, it’s alright, Yaku-san,” you shook your head. “It’s time for you to have a break, not working.”

Being persistent sometimes has it’s perks, it took numbers of rejection to finally have Yaku gave up. You knew he was just trying to help, but you didn’t want to rob his time relaxing. When all the preparations were done, the boys were already surrounding the grills with hungry faces. Coach Nekomata gave them a light speech along with praises for their hard work over the week, and they dived to grab on the meat straight from the grill.

“THANKS FOR THE FOOD!”

Just like Kaori, you brought a plate of rice balls to offer and managed to witnessed Yukie’s enormous appetite. She practically inhaled four rice balls in one go and you’re not the only who was dumbfounded from it.

.

.

Konoha and Komi almost had their souls went to heaven from the frightening circle Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Taketora made. Well, they did elbow each other to encourage one another getting close or at least having a talk with Shimizu. The girl walked pass them holding a paper plate with food–looking extremely gorgeous and she didn’t even try.

“That was scary,” Konoha muttered underneath his breath. The three finally stopped because of Karasuno and Nekoma’s captain scolded them–the three immediately shrunk.

“They really had their guard up, huh,” Komi added, feeling his energy drained from such a scary encounter.

“Uhm, excuse me,” the two turned to look over their shoulder and that’s when they noticed–Karasuno’s other first year manager who’s Bokuto constantly talking about. The owl captain wouldn’t shut up about her much to their annoyance and now they knew why.

“Would you like some rice ball?”

“Sure,” Konoha replied dumbly.

“I’ll take two,” Komi followed with a daze. You placed one on Konoha’s empty paper plate and two for Komi upon his request. Smiling at them, you proceeded to excuse yourself so you could offer to someone else.

Following your figure dazedly, they noticed how the light shone even brighter and basked you in a beautiful glow. That’s when they thought of a conclusion.

A goddess just graces us mere mortals! They screamed in their head.

.

.

You tried to calm Yachi down from her traumatizing experience being surrounded by absurdly tall boys (“Titans, [Name]-chan! Titans!”). Thankfully, all of them were nice enough to made room so your friend could reach for some meat. Yachi almost cried in happiness from the real taste of meat.

From the sidelines, Shimizu and the other managers were watching the two of you while talking about the boys sometimes.

“How much are you going to eat?” Kaori questioned because Yukie was having a ridiculous amount of food towering on her plate and she just kept munching away without care.

“The third-years in Karasuno all seems pretty mature,” Mako commented.

“Our ace is weak-willed, though,” Shimizu smiled sheepishly.

“What? Really?” Eri replied in surprise. “Even though he looks that scary?”

“Though, I think that’s still better than our simpleton ace,” Kaori commented. “Still,”

Their eyes were directed towards where the said simpleton ace was standing and placing meat until it towered on your empty plate.

“Eat more, [Name]-chan! Or you won’t get even taller!” he stated.

“And eat more vegetables!” Kuroo added, placing cabbages and carrots to your plate, adding even more food.

“Have some rice balls, too.” Somehow, even Akaashi participated in this whole fiasco and put a rice ball onto your plate. Now, there’s a ridiculous amount of food on your plate.

“…I can’t eat this much,” you commented, staring at the food filling your plate.

“Nonsense, I don’t see you eat anything even when the others are,” Akaashi stated. “You’re too busy handling other things nonstop.”

“Have a break will you,” Kuroo patted your back. “Everyone’s having fun and you should too.”

“Have more meat, [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“You can have my share, Otohaku-chan!” Lev followed and you immediately shook your head.

“At least he and Akaashi took care of our baby manager well,” Kaori sighed in relief.

“[Name]-chan is close with Fukurodani’s captain and setter, huh? Even Nekoma’s captain,” Mako giggled. “She’s drawing everyone in.”

“Well, it’s rare for a first-year to be as tall as her,” Eri grinned. “The boys are especially poles so it’s probably great not to strain their neck once in a while from looking down.”

“Karasuno’s pretty lucky to have her, huh?” Yukie said after swallowing her food.

“Yeah, we are,” Shimizu smiled.

.

.

“Did you have fun?” Sawamura asked you when you’re helping other managers to clean up the remaining plates left behind on the table along with other scraps littering around. He picked up a few paper cups and placed it into the trash bin.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation. “Everyone’s so nice, it’s probably the most fun I’ve had.”

“Thank goodness, then,” he gave you a smile.

“I’m really glad I joined the volleyball club,” you commented, grinning.

“And we glad to have you here,” the captain chuckled and replied.

Everything was over by the time the sun started to sink into the horizon–time truly flew by when you enjoyed it. Since Miyagi was quite a distance from Saitama, they needed to depart first or they would be back extremely late at night. Yukie and Eri were fake-crying and joking about refusing to let you go–in the end, you’re all exchanging numbers so you could keep in touch.

“Did you have fun, Otohaku-san?”

“Coincidentally, you asked the same question as my captain, Akaashi-san.” The Fukurodani setter, like before, helping you on carrying the extra luggage in hand although you did tell him it’s only until you reached the stairs. “And to answer, I am. These one week of training camp is fun. Somehow, I don’t want this to be over.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll meet again,” Akaashi replied. “At the Spring Interhigh.”

“I’m sure we will, Akaashi-san.” you smiled. “And thank you for helping me with luggage.”

“[Name]-chan!!” Bokuto bounded over with a grin plastered on his face. “We’ll be waiting at the nationals!”

“Karasuno, Bokuto-san. Otohaku-san doesn’t play volleyball.” Akaashi deadpanned.

“Just agree with me once, Akaashi!”

“Well, whatever he said,” Kuroo piped up, approaching the three of you. “Made sure your team go to the nationals so we could meet again and make the battle came true.”

“I’ll do my best, Kuroo-san.” Then Kuroo reached out to ruffle your hair, it’s been a while since he did that and you weren’t even going to lie about enjoying it. The cat captain was similar to an older brother now.

“Off you go then, [Name],” he removed his hand from your head. “And don’t miss me.”

“How could I when I have your phone number, Kuroo-san?” you snickered. “You’re probably going to bombard me with chemistry puns at 10pm.”

“Then, I’m gonna call you every day so you won’t have to deal with Kuroo!” Bokuto declared before laughing victoriously.

“Please block his number immediately, Otohaku-san,” Akaashi stated. “Or you won’t be getting any sleep. His talking is endless.”

“Why, Akaashi!?” the said boy whined.

“Aside from that, be careful on your way home,” Akaashi decided to ignore the captain and gave you a small smile.

You returned his smile. “Will do, Akaashi-san.”

With that, the whole week of summer training camps has come to an end. The whole team watched you guys drove away into the other way back to Miyagi.

.

.

“You have a match tomorrow, don’t you?” former Coach Ukai questioned, brows creased from the insistence of your combi. “That’s probably enough, then!”

“One more! Just one more!” Hinata pleaded.

“We’ll finish after this one!” Kageyama added.

Two days of practicing to prepare for the preliminaries, just a day before the match Sawamura dismissed them early to get some rest. Since it would be impossible to use the gym unless getting an earful from him, Kageyama and Hinata needed to look for another place. Former Coach Ukai lent them the court only for a bit, just until the others who wants to practice comes.

And you were there to hold a leash if they’re being stubborn or something.

“This is the last, alright?” you scolded the two. “We shouldn’t bother the others who wants to practice here. And you should rest before the match.”

Thankfully the older man letting them had the court just one more time and you couldn’t help but feeling grateful of it. You sighed before turning to face former Coach Ukai and bowed down. “On their behalf, I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” Former Coach Ukai dismissed it. “Their eagerness is a great thing, but even eagerness isn’t going to magically give them energy. It would be bad if they burnt out even before the game started.”

“[Name]-san! Can you throw us the ball?” Hinata called out.

In the end, the two managed to successfully killed the quick–and sure enough, it also impressed former Coach Ukai which added more reassurance that your team would be more than okay to face the entire preliminaries and became champions.

[cowboisadness]

Warm Beer {Arthur Morgan x F!Reader} 18+

Some warm beer and a lot of teasing with a beer bottle idk i came up with this idea at like 3am.

No smut but might do a part 2. Sexually suggestive and sexual themes. UNDER 18 DNI

Wordcount: 1604

.....

The beer stays warm here in Lemoyne. With no escape from the persistent heat and humidity, as well as none of us being stupid enough to keep the crates submerged in the swamp water surrounding us in the hopes they would be a few degrees cooler to actually give us all some relief. 

Relief is what all of us needed right now. Constantly running from the law and Pinkertons, bad job after bad job, the camp’s money slowly dwindling, some people working too hard while others did barely anything other than keep their asses flat to the ground. 

The only positives being we now have a real roof over our heads courtesy of the shambles that is Shady Belle and the beer was never in short supply. 

This hot and disgusting evening had us all sat either by the fire or at one ofthe tables nearby. Listening to Javier and Uncle share a merry tune while we drank the evening away thanks to this piss-water excuse for alcohol.

Arthur, John and Bill returned only a couple of hours ago after planning to rob a high-value stagecoach that was making its way from Blackwater to Rhodes. it was a disaster, as Arthur expected. 

‘They are never worth the trouble.’ He would say ‘Always turn into a bloodbath.’ he would argue...and he was right, as usual. 

The coach wasn’t holding even half of what they were expecting and they got away with even less and a bullet wound for Bill, thankfully it wasn’t anything a few stitches couldn’t handle.

Arthur was still sour about the whole ordeal even a couple of hours later. So I did what I have been doing for almost a year now when he gets like this. Leave him to calm down then let him take the rest of it out on me in private. We all win that way. 

I had my eyes on that man since the day I arrived in the gang almost two years ago, and it wasn’t long until the shy glances, shy touches and even shyer words became more for us. But it took a year for both of our stubborn asses to take the next step. Trying to keep it a secret from the others was both thrilling and a task in itself. Only so many last-minute hunting trips that would result in us only bringing back one deer or a few turkeys and rabbits before people started asking questions. 

So we all sat here, Sadie and Karen by my side at the table engrossed in their own conversation, but I was paying no mind to them or their chatter. 

My eyes drifted to the campfire and those sat around it, finally landing on him. Whiskey in had as he listened to Javier strum his guitar and uncle on his banjo. A few of the others sat around singing along. The flames in the centre lighting up his face just enough to see his still sour expression. That man works too hard and cares too much for his own good sometimes. 

He takes a sip from the whiskey bottle, the flames now illuminating along the length of his neck. The beer bottle in my hand momentarily forgotten, my fingers gracing up and down the neck absent-mindedly as I watched him. He’s a bear of a man, a Grizzly if I was to be specific. Large, imposing and with the ability to strike fear in the heart of any man with the growl in his voice. A brute when he needed to be but a gentle soul when he wanted to be. Like he was with me unless we both desired the former.

I watched as he nodded his head along with the song, then when he laughed at whatever Charles said to him. I watched as his eyes scanned the group around him before landing on me, giving a light smile as he found my eyes were on him already. A smile I gladly returned. 

His gaze didn't falter, so I decided to give him something more to keep his attention on me. 

With the girls still chatting away beside me, something about us girls needing to initiate a job or two and let the men lay back and relax while we took the reins for once, I placed my almost empty bottle across the table to draw his eyes to it. My fingers returning to the neck to delicately stroke up and down. 

My eyes flicked down to the bottle then back to him, giving off the sense that I was perhaps thirsty for something else. 

He straightened his posture as my hand gripped the neck and was that his breath I heard hitch from all the way over here?

I turned my attention back to the bottle, keeping the slow pace as I glided my hand to the base and then back up to the tip of the neck, tilting my head to the side as if the glass was deserving of the attention I was giving it. Allowing a few more glides when I glanced back at him through my lashes. His brows furrowed, he began to fidget where he was sat, a fire now burning in his eyes. But not burning hot enough...I accept the challenge. 

My eyes remained locked with his as I loosened my grip, my fingers returning to the neck, my thumb gracing the tip in circular motions. 

The light from the fire is just enough to see him gulp and the grip on his bottle so tight I was surprised it hadn’t shattered under the pressure.

With a sultry smile, I lift the bottle to my lips to take a drink, the warm liquid coating my throat barely even an afterthought.  

I lick my lips as I stare at the bottleneck and despite nothing being spilt, with another smile I press my tongue to the bottom of the neck, trailing it up to the tip. Well, it would be a shame to waste even a drop. 

I heard the footsteps before I could register that he even moved from his place by the fire. Not even bothering to approach he kept his eyes on me as he stormed his way towards the house. The fire in his eyes burning like the centre of a giant star, caving under pressure only to inevitably burst into a supernova.

Not long after he was out of sight I got up to follow, chugging the rest of the warm beer and discarding the bottle beside me. I made sure to take my time as I rounded the house and made my way up the steps to the building’s doors. Tucking back a few stray hairs and readjusting my dress shirt, undoing another button. The heat truly is getting to me tonight. 

The steps up to the second floor creaked under my weight, echoing in the otherwise quiet house.

His door was slightly ajar. The lantern and moonlight illuminating the space within just enough. 

I knocked not even waiting for a reply before I walked in. His back was turned, shoulders tensed as he looked out of the shattered window. The slight breeze it let in a welcoming one.

Opening my mouth to break the silence I was quickly hushed when he turned, taking two steps before he was above me, my back hitting the closed door with a resounding thud.

His laboured breaths fanning across my face as his hands came to rest on the door at either side of my head, caging me in. His eyes engulfed in lust and rage.

“You think ya bein’ funny, princess?” he growled. The deep vibrations in his voice sending a spark down my spine.

I kept my eyes locked on his, presenting an innocent smile “I’m afraid I don't know what you are talking about.” 

“Ya know very well. After the day I’ve had I don’t have the patience for your teasing.”

I smiled up at him again. I’ve won the race, but not the challenge.

His hand moved to the base of my neck, thumb tracing over my throat with a slight pressure that couldn’t be ignored.

“Mr Morgan…” I tilted my hips out to meet his. His desire evident, “...would I ever?”

His hands were on me in a flash, pulling me towards the table beside us. The boxes of ammunition swept to the floor in one movement before he was lifting me onto the surface, hands pulling my skirt till it was bunched up at my waist. He stood there between my open legs, palms burning into the supple flesh of my thighs as they travelled higher and higher. Eyes now fixed on the exposed skin below my clavicles. 

“Do ya have any idea what ya do to me?” His eyes moved to my neck, then my lips, before locking with my own. Our heightened breaths the only noise filling the space around us. 

That spark travelling down my spine now back with a vengeance, landing straight to my core with a jolt. 

I breathed deeply to steady my voice. 

Hand racing out for his belt to pull him forwards to feel just what he might be talking about. I wanted - needed - all of him. 

“Why don’t you show me?” I whispered, then his mouth was on my neck, biting, sucking, soothing. Leaving his mark. My head tilting back as a quiet moan escaped me.

His hands travelling further up my thighs as my hands hastily began to unbuckle his belt, the both of us unable to waste any more time.

Indeed I have won the challenge.

[meryamthebadassbitch]

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘑𝘦𝘳𝘬 || 𝘗𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘳

Soon on Wattpad~

"Do you have one of the Parasites like your dad used to have?" asked Mrs. Chen the girl who paid for the snacks, eyes wide she shook her head in disagreement before stepping out of the store

PARASITE?!

"it's not my fault, dad used to call you that man just don't kill her she can give us a lot of free food you know and you can have extra brains when they always rob her poor store?" "Fine, we'll let it slide" "what do you wanna do?" "We can do whatever WE want" chuckling slightly she nodded making her way upstairs to the rooftop, sitting at the edge with venom beside her they both ate the Pack of chocolate in silence, sure, she was terrified finding out about a symbiote living inside her body just like her father after protecting herself from some scientist, but for these past years she got used to it and they were more like best friends and if something happened to Venom it's like happening to her.

𝙁𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠-

Making her way toward the bathroom, attempting to hide from those Men but a voice inside her head made her scream in fear, hiding inside one of the stalls she stared into nothing but emptiness staying quiet as if a serial killer was following her, shaking in fear she tried not to sob out loud by putting her hand on her mouth a drop of a tear falling to the ground as the 10-year-old girl cried in silence with her hands still shaking, the sound of the bathroom stalls being slammed open made her heart stop beating as she started praying for her life, she was going to die that's for sure.

The next thing she knew was the lock breaking and her being pulled harshly by 2 men, screaming in fear she tried biting their hands off but the guns aimed in her head was worse, in a blink of an eye black tentacles came out of her arms and stabbed both of them in the heart, a pool of blood surrounded her as she watched in fear at what she has just done, she just killed two men trying to kidnap her, blood on her white shoes and arms as she tried to open the door and make her way out of this hell hole, but it was the same thing instead this time a group pointed their guns at her as she looked around in search of a place to run away, giving up she sat on the ground putting her hands in the air as told letting the 'police' handcuff her, she's just a 10-year-old girl what possibly could she do?

"mom! please I am begging you to tell them to let me go, we were supposed to be having a girls' night! I promise I didn't kill those men something came out of my arm and-" she couldn't finish her words, Tears welled from deep inside and coursed down her cheeks as she begged her mother for help with a high pitched voice, Anne on the other side stared at her with a guilty look before shaking her head, staring at her in disbelieve she was brutally pulled by the handcuffs away giving her mother one last look.

Did she stay in an Asylum for 8 years without seeing her 'mother' and outside? yes sadly she did, did she get out of the asylum once? no, she never did and that was driving her crazy she was the only one in here and everyone was afraid of her, this place wasn't like any other asylum they brought people with superpowers here, like Eleven from stranger things except Mery didn't have Telekinesis she had Venom.

Sitting in the chair defeatless with an emotionless look on her face, her hands tied to the table, as always, she stared at Anne straight in her eyes "Mery-" "hey doctor, can you please open these handcuffs and let me go back to my room before I do something?" she finally said looking straight into the camera about to transform into the big giant monster when a syringe was on her neck preventing her from doing so, 'how dare she says my nickname' she thought looking straight into her eyes after 8 years of not seeing each other how would you feel and how can she still manage to say her nickname, especially when your own mother is the reason you're looked in here "I Hate you and you don't deserve to be called a mother!" she yelled out struggling from their grip, black tentacles came out of her back as she grabbed every single scientist killing them with no mercy, "Venom, let's get the hell out of here" her voice deadly as she spoke "Copy, you're the boss" just as Anne described she looked just like her father, huge teeth, white eyes, and a long tongue.

𝙀𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠-

"Don't open that door"

"Bitch, Don't order me to do something because you will die waiting?" she said with the usual level of sarcasm before taking off her apron making her way toward the door, what was shitty about this house was it didn't have a peephole, rolling her eyes she opened the door staring at the group in front of her "May I help you?" asked the girl in confusion to why the Avengers are in front of her apartment with a raised eyebrow the Black haired girl was about to close the door when black widow finally said a word after 10 seconds of silence "we need to talk to you?" "Listen, I don't have time to deal with superhero shit I've had enough" "please?" sighing she pushed the door fully letting them in sitting on the couch in front of them with her legs crossed "what?" "Can you introduce us to who you were talking to?" asked Captain America looking at her, raising her eyebrows once again, it was a habit sometimes she bites her nails "were you listening to us the whole time?" "no-" "Jesus, y'all are so famous and busy with superhero shit to the point where you don't understand a joke, Venom can you come out please?" annoyed, a black face appeared beside hers, that was the Parasite living inside her body?

"don't touch it, everyone this is Venom my best buddy and a parasite living inside my body, Her favorite food is brains and chocolate and we both kill robbers every day" putting a fake smile on her face she could see the look on their eyes, Bruce wanting to touch it so badly but stopped when Meryam sent him a look of disagreement, "alright this it, you guys can go, it was lovely meeting you, y'all are awesome superheroes and bye-bye!" "would you like to come with us we need your help, please?" asked Thor holding his hammer, glancing at Venom they both nodded at the same time, they were partners in crime anyways.

"We will but I'm coming alone, see ya at the Tower!" smiling she slammed the door shut

"Can you imagine Thor the god of thunder asking me to come with them, that is awesome right?" "not as awesome as us" nodding with a grin she grabbed her pocket knife charging the gun just in case tying her hair into a bun, putting on the mask Meryam grabbed the bag making her way out of the room.

"Hey miss Chen came to have some supplies?" stated the girl making her way toward the snack session she was probably the only customer here, the threatening sound of another robber echoed around the store as he pointed his gun at the poor woman, "That guy?" "yes bestie, free food for you tonight?" she said making her way toward the man, grabbing his wrist she punched him straight in the jaw, "Mask!" in a blink of an eye the same monster Mrs. Chen saw a long time ago was in front of her expect it was a woman, and that woman was Eddie Brock's daughter, Biting his head off she paid for the snacks before making her way out "night, thanks for the free snack!"

(venom ate the man, duh)

"This walk is boring!" "I know but we're almost there don't worry" "I Miss the Loser" "yeah, same he was the best dad" "and best Host, you both are the best" "aw thanks Venom you're the best too" a soft smile rose on her lips, The world was a better place when she smiled to Venom and he promised to Eddie he would keep her safe, thank god, she had her earphones on so people wouldn't call her crazy for talking by herself, "Jesus how many floors in this Tower?" "93"

"Excuse me is Tony Stark here, he said I can meet him here?" politely asking the blonde woman who was holding a little girl in her hand she took off her mask not to scare her, they didn't seem to recognize her right? "She's probably his wife" the voice of the symbiote echoed around her head as she nodded, "oh yes you must be Meryam, you seem kinda Familiar?" the blonde woman asked her, her heart stopped beating as soon as she said the last words, "o-oh really, who?" "oh never mind, you're so pretty by the way, I should probably go take Morgan to sleep Tony is having a meeting with the rest and they're waiting for you" "Yeah thank you?" "Pepper call me Pepper dear" nodding she waved at the little girl who had a cute smile on her face before making her way to where Pepper pointed

"Hey Old man, you wanted to meet us?" the same sound they heard 30 minutes ago echoed around the room earning their attention, chuckling at how startled they looked Meryam tried to hold her laugh while Venom was grinning evilly on the other side, "Ahh miss Brock come in" "it's Meryam, Anthony" okay that surely got him annoyed she could see how he rolled his eyes, sitting down on one of the chairs she looked around greeting the rest with a straight look.

"Tell us more about yourself?" not wanting to tell them her whole story, she shook her head with an emotionless look on her face "there's nothing more to know about me, I lived 13 years alone that's it, my life is useless anyways I only have Venom and kill robbers nothing more interesting?" one thing they learned about her was how fast she changed her emotions, 5 seconds ago she was trying not to laugh and now a deadpan look on her face. Pietro didn't trust her, not even a single bit and that was why a glare was attached to his stupid face

"So Meryam we're going to be on a mission for these past days and since you have nothing to do, you're going to catch the robbers around the city and take Morgan to school" tearing her gaze away from Pietro who was still glaring she blinked slightly trying to process what he just said, "excuse me, am I getting paid for that?" "yes" "fine, I'll do it, and will you stop glaring at me like I am some target?" her Black eyes met his as she spoke with gritted teeth's, anger rushing through her body Wanda slapping his shoulder before apologizing to her "I am so sorry Meryam-" "it's alright Wanda don't apologize in his place, he just needs to stop and do it all by himself if he's a true man, good night everyone" with that she made her way out of the place trying to calm her nerves down

Anger Issues

"Ohh she got you good" Teased Sam the twin who was still fuming in anger, rage thrummed through his veins as he swallowed down his frustration sending him a harsh look, "shut up birdy" with that he was out of sight just before Clint could say something

"oh these two are not going to be friends or work together, it's probably something worse"

[maoam]

I like to read manhwas sometimes (not as much because so many are just wish fulfillment for self insertion) and something that always pisses me off is when you have an FL (female lead) who is so in love with a guy that started in childhood and persists into adulthood but the guy doesn’t return her feelings, and the comments are filled with absolute hatred and vitriol for him. Because how dare he not return the feelings of this obsessive chick who’s only personality trait is to be make him happy. Or even if the FL isn’t interested in the guy, but the guy also doesn’t worship the very floor FL walks on, he gets hate. Because to so many readers, the FL is supposed to be the center of love and affection if everyone, and anyone who doesn’t instantly fall head over heels for her, is the enemy. It really made me think about Sakura’s fans who hate Sasuke because he had the audacity to own autonomy and not like her back. It is such en embarrassing, cringey, and immature mindset. If you need to self insert that hard, you need to go out and touch some grass. Don’t women hate when men act entitled just because they are nice to us. Why is this mindset excused when exhibited by female characters? It’s so goddamn weird

This is the general mindset of the Naruto fandom in many places. Many of them insert into characters like Naruto, Sakura and Hinata while hating characters they see as being more popular or skilled or whatever, or think their faves "deserve" this and that. Some of them even hate Sasuke for getting screentime and thus robbing Naruto (the main character) of his main character priviledge. Sakura fans tend to hate all the other female characters, especially if they ship SS.

I literally once saw a guy explain why he hates Sasuke and he said he's that guy you hate in middle school/high school (I do not remember which it was) and it just shows again how Sasuke hate is often about some personal grudge in people's life they project onto him. Men hate him because all the chicks want to bang him, and women hate him because he doesn't want to bang any of the chicks.

And before anyone comments on this with something like "I hate Sasuke because he's an asshole!!!" sure sure. Just say you didn't bother to try to understand him, to understand why he became like that, and that he repeatedly got re-traumatized through his whole life, because he doesn't exhibit any traits you can relate to. If people just said they don't like him, fine, but repeatedly drawing him getting choked and beheaded and having to make up lies like he didn't win any fights or he committed war crimes (lol?) just to bring him down because he triggers some insecurity in you is honestly go outside and touch grass moment. It's time to move on from middle school/high school phase. But I feel this is especially hard for Naruto fans, and not just about Sasuke, but about the series in general. They are so stuck in their interpretations that they aren't even ready to listen and open their eyes and ears when people try to explain. Naruto was their childhood and their vision of it can't be touched.

What you mentioned is actually pretty common, some people hate Light more for not liking Misa than for killing countless people lol. Meanwhile, characters like Vegeta get a pass for everything because they do their job on liking the female character back. Some fangirls are ready to forgive a male character an awful lot as long as they can slap a romance narrative on his character.

That girl who drew the art of Sasuke being beheaded by Sakura is a Reylo fan and considering all the things Kylo Ren has done it's clear Sasuke not wanting to fuck Sakura is what pissed the artist off enough to draw that picture. I mean Kylo did kiss Rey at the end willingly so he did his duty. Who cares if he's a fascist who killed innocents and also killed his father. She likes zutara. Zuko burned a village and send an assassin after the Gaang and helped Azula almost kill Aang, but it's okay because he never rejected Katara (well Katara never made a move on him like Sakura). Sakura aggressively trying to climb on Sasuke's dick while being repeatedly rejected and unwanted makes women feel embarrassment, so they redirect the embarrassment as an anger towards Sasuke. Thus they can pretend Sakura is not responsible for not taking no for an answer and repeatedly embarrassing herself. This way people can pretend rejection is actually injustice towards them and not something they just need to get over it because they're not entitled to anyone.