#when he has meetings in his office he likes to show off his special blend

[dominoblues]

Seto Kaiba does not go to Starbucks. It's for peasants. Instead, he obviously has his own coffee machine, both at home and his office's kitchenette, which roasts, grinds and brews the special recipe that he meticulously selected with the best ingredients in the world:

-Crushed green cardamom seeds from Ceylon mixed with ground cinnamon sticks from Saigon and coarse ground arabica coffee beans (medium roast) from Ethiopia.

-Brew the mixture in a percolator.

-Extract, pour, add a couple of star anises and sprinkle with cocoa powder as a final touch.

[desertfangs]

The Chameleon - Armand/Daniel - The Chase Years - 1000 words

Written for @vcmicroficmay for the prompt "performance." Daniel is thrown a small surprise launch party for his book, Interview with the Vampire, and special guest crashes the party (you'll never guess who!)

Full text posted here or read it on AO3.

It’s awkward being the guest of honor and Daniel wishes he could escape back to his hotel room. People keep coming up to him and shaking his hand while his editor makes brief introductions that leave his mind almost immediately. 

He’s curious about these people, of course. Some of them are authors with dozens of books to their names, or editors, or journalists. The sort of people Daniel would love to sit and chat with under normal circumstances. 

But these are not normal circumstances. This is a small, semi-private “launch party” that his publisher sprung on him.

Daniel had flat out refused to do public signings for his book but he finally conceded to signing copies in the publisher’s New York office that they could send out to bookstores. He’d arrived last night and gone straight to his hotel. He half expected Armand to be there to greet him, as this trip had been planned for over a week, and he’d inadvertently thought about it while Armand was pestering him about the various brands of soda in a vending machine outside his motel room in Tulsa. But the vampire was nowhere to be found.

Daniel spent the day in a boardroom in the publisher’s office, signing copies of Interview with the Vampire until his wrist was numb and his hand cramped. When he finished, relieved to be done and looking forward to going out on the town for some dinner, they’d surprised him with this launch party at a hotel down the street.

The decor is a little gaudy. Gold and red balloons that match the colors of the book cover float against the high ceiling of the rented ballroom. The cover itself has been enlarged and printed on poster boards.

There’s a bar on one end that Daniel only manages to make it over to once before his editor claps him on the shoulder and a non-stop line of introductions and small talk begin. He shakes the ice in his empty glass, hoping maybe someone will offer to refresh it for him. No one does. 

“How did you come up with the idea?” a woman asks. He thinks she’s a copyeditor but that might be the woman to her left. “Interviewing a monster, how clever!” 

Daniel laughs out of sheer discomfort. He’s worried that these people will sense that he’s a fraud. That he didn’t come up with anything. 

He repeats a party line he’s been giving: “I was interviewing people about their lives. A friend of mine was reading Dracula and I joked it’d be cool to interview him.” The crowd laughs.  

Daniel sips at the dredges of his drink, tiredness sinking into his bones. 

A hand touches Daniel’s shoulder and he turns, expecting to see someone else he needs to meet, only to be met with the familiar shock of auburn hair. His pulse quickens. 

Armand is wearing a blue suit, crisply pressed, with a white shirt and dress shoes. His hair is cropped short and he’s wearing glasses. His skin is pale but he’s fed enough to give it color. Like a chameleon, he blends right into this crowd. 

He hands Daniel a glass, a Jack and Coke, trading it for his empty one. Daniel takes it gratefully. His editor gives him an expectant look. He needs to introduce Armand. God help him. 

“This is my—” Daniel falters. What the hell does he say? Stalker? Vampire shadow? Friend? Armand is not his friend, surely. 

“Assistant,” Armand supplies. He gives a fake name and shakes his editor’s hand. 

“Ah, yes, I believe Daniel mentioned you.” 

Daniel definitely did not. 

Armand is charming and fits right in. Incredible how one minute Daniel is showing him something like how a vending machine works and the next, Armand is effortlessly hobnobbing at a publishing party, making clever small talk and enthralling everyone around him. 

Daniel finishes his drink too fast and slips off to the bar. He orders a double. 

“What a lovely celebration of your book,” Armand says. Daniel startles. Armand has moved silently beside him without Daniel even noticing. 

“Yeah, it’s great,” Daniel says. He’s counting the minutes until he can leave without being rude. “What are you doing here?” 

“How could I miss it? You’re the guest of honor,” Armand says with a wicked little smile. “Though I must admit, I enjoy knowing these people know who I am, and yet they have no idea I walk among them.” 

A shiver travels down Daniel’s spine. Imagine if they knew the leader of the Theatre Des Vampires was real and at this party! An unhinged laugh bubbles up out of his throat. Armand puts a hand on his arm, steadying, and strangely familiar. Well, they are familiar now, aren’t they? They’ve been playing this game for long enough. 

And though he’s loath to admit it, Daniel is glad to see him. He feels out of depth at this event, being praised as a creative genius for a true story he merely relayed. He’s a phony. 

You’re not a phony, Armand says. 

Daniel blinks, surprised. He knows damn well Armand can read his thoughts but sometimes it still catches him off guard. It’s not my story.

Of course it is. And you told it skillfully. 

Daniel considers that. The book was a lot of work, writing the descriptions of the interview itself, the editing… Armand often pestered him in various hotel rooms while he was working on it, though they rarely discussed the contents of the book. Daniel always expected him to ask that he edit things or leave things out, but he never did. Anything cut was done so at the discretion of Daniel and his editor. Armand played no part. 

Daniel starts to ask what he thinks of the finished product, but his editor comes over and ushers him toward a new group of folks he has to meet. Armand is right on his heels, effortlessly playing the role of his assistant as the night goes on. 

[knockyasocksoff2022]

My Dear Ranpo

(A/N: HEYYY! I'M BACK!!! You know how much I love Relationship Reveals, so I decided to branch out, at least in terms of ships. This is my first time writing Ranpo so sorry if it's bad. Also I do feel kinda bad cuz I got  a soukoku request, and I am working on that but I haven't had much writng inspiration for a week or two now so when I go the idea for thids I had to write it. No beta we die like Tachihara's brother.)

(1,055 words)

Kunikida’s Perspective 

As soon as Ranpo walked in we knew something was wrong. He was missing his glasses.

Now twenty minutes later, he sits at his desk staring off into the distance, snacks untouched.

“Hey, Ranpo-san, you look ill, want some tea? It’s a special herbal blend from my village. It’s what my mother always gave me and my siblings when we were ill, cured us right up.” Kenji smiles brightly, offering a mug to Ranpo.

“No. I’m not ill at all, the greatest detective in the world does not fall ill! I’m simply bored from being around so many regular people.”

Kenji smiles, knowing not to be offended.

-

This goes on a few more times as Yosano and I try to convince the clearly ailing detective to return home. I even offered to drive him, though now that I think about it I have no idea where he lives. (I know he used to live with the president but surely he doesn’t anymore.)

Each time the detective gives no more hint of giving in than before, if anything he becomes more adamant about staying.

-

Just as Atsushi steps up to try his hand at shaking the detective’s resolve there’s a faint knock on the door. Who could it be now? This is early for Dazai to come in and he never knocks. Is it perhaps a raid, the old man in the Black Lizard attack squad has been known to knock before raids, to give the appearance of a normal customer.

Cautiously I head over to the door, and peer through the door viewer. To my relife it isn’t Dazai or the Black Lizard. But I do feel bad for the man on the other side of the door. This particular Guild member has been a common sight this past year, but Ranpo is extra stubborn today, so I’m sure he won’t feel up to reading any of the books he brings. I should at least warn the novelist.

I open the door.

The Guild novelist bows and gives a polite greeting “Ohayōgozaimasu, Kunikida-san” then walks right past me, before I can warn him. He shows no trace of his trademark shyness.

(A/N: thinking of that episode where someone, either Kunikida or Dazai enters the agency office and is like “OHAYŌ!” and it’s the loudest thing ever)

He strides right up to Ranpo’s desk, placing a hand immediately on the man’s forehead. Ranpo looks up, leaning into the novelist’s touch. The novelist huffs and pulls his hand back, only to start stroking Ranpo’s hair.

“Take me home Edgar.” Ranpo demands, it sounds more like a sigh. What!? Now all of the sudden? What changed?

“Of course, I am dreadfully sorry the meeting with my publisher took so long. You’re ready to go home my dear?”

Ranpo nods, already standing, no trace of stubbornness visible in his expression, he looks calm, if somewhat dismayed at his illness, as he leans against the taller man’s shoulder. Ranpo’s eyes are closed. He shovers and the racoon that always accompanies the Guild member crawls onto his shoulders, settling down like a fur collar.

Is the novelist going to drive him home? I suppose that it isn’t too suprining that he knows where Ranpo lives since they’re friends. They are standing rather close to be just friends though, but Ranpo is strai– . . . (Truthfully, at least that I’ve noticed, he’s never shown interest in anyone in the entire time I’ve known him.)

“You can hold Karl in the car if you’re cold, with that fever of yours you must be,” the Guild member tuts, “I must tell you that it was entirely unnecessary of you to come into the office today, surely your CEO wouldn’t have minded. I would have much preferred you stayed home, I was quite startled when I found these.” He places the glasses on Ranpo and places a sticky note to his forehead, pressing it onto the detective's skin with a kiss.

I struggle to read the note as the two men walk towards the door, shoulder to shoulder. It reads “Come get me, I’m bored.” in English.

What is the meaning of this? I knew people were more tactile in American culture, but this? This is a bit much no . . . unless . . .?

Ranpo only “hmmm”s quietly, leaning closer to the novelist.

“Do promise me, dear, that next time you’re unwell or think you may be coming down with something, let me know. I’m happy to have my personal physician check on you.”

Ranpo coughs and it sounds suspiciously like “Rich people!” Then he does speak, “You worry too much Edgar. I may be your dear, but I’m not that breakable.”

Or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what he says, my English isn’t as perfect as it could be.

All at once things click into place. They’re dating. I know that professionally, I should be at least a little annoyed but I’m not Ranpo’s superior, that role was given to the president and the president only. I can’t blame Ranpo for wanting to keep his personal life out of work, and the Guild hasn’t given us trouble in some time now, besides they look so sweet together.

I don’t try to stop them as they leave, instead looking around at the expressions of my colleagues. Whether shocked or endeared I know we all have some questions, but those can wait until Ranpo is feeling well again.

(A/N: This turned out much softer than I intended but I actually like it. I hope you do as well even though The relationship reveal isn’t as intense. It was kind of refreshing for me to write Kunikida as accepting of a relationship as opposed to other reveals I’ve written (mainly soukoku so it’s understandable). I do plan to make a part two of them questioning Ranpo when he gets back (affectionately of course) and that will definitely include more shocked pen-breaking Kunikida. lol)

[duskholland]

under the desk || prof!tom smut

professor holland has a special assignment for you...

wc ↠ 3k. warnings ↠ nsfw 18+ content. bj under the table, (unseen) exhibitionism, dom!tom/sub!reader, sir/good girl kink, a lot of praise, fingering, slight degradation, pinching, minor pain kink. messy rough against-the-table unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!). I don’t condone this form of relationship irl! be safe. a/n ↠ you know i had to do it to ‘em. thanks @darlingspidey​ for coming into my askbox and choosing violence. minors dni or you will be blocked!!!!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You want me to what?”

The smirk on Professor Holland’s face is unmoving as he folds his arms across his chest. The tight sleeves of his suit bulge to accommodate the curves of his biceps, and you find yourself biting your lower lip despite his shocking proposition.

“I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock for the entire lesson, darling. I don’t understand why this is so difficult for you to understand. Thought you were my smart girl, eh?” He brings two slender fingers to your cheek, running calloused fingertips down to your chin. As Tom angles your face to look at him, his eyes hold nothing but dominance.

“But… What if someone sees?”

Tom is still caressing your face, and you feel yourself ease as he pushes his thumb into your mouth. He steps closer, caging you in until the backs of your thighs press into the hard line of his desk. As his warm breath fans out across your face, you shiver.

“No one will see,” he tells you, accent thick. His South London twang always comes out more prominently in times like these. “We’re too far at the front.” He brings his other hand to your waist, squeezing your flesh with a rough touch that makes you moan around his thumb. “Promise I’ll make it up to you, love,” he adds, voice a blend of sultry tones. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

When he swaps out his thumb for his index and middle fingers, you instinctively lap around the pads of his fingertips. Tom just smirks, knowing he has you right in the palm of his hand. You’ve done risky things with your professor before, but to hide beneath his desk and suck him off for an hour..? It sounds like torture. Yet, with the way his eyes twinkle so seductively, you find yourself leaning into it. You’ve always been a bit of a sadist, anyway, and it’d be hard to disagree with him when he looks like this—brown hair slicked back, face glowing with health, deep eyes like pools of honey.

Tom pulls his fingers from your mouth, but before you can complain about their absence, he brings them down between your legs. You’re already bare beneath the skirt—he’d spent a memorable five minutes ghosting his mouth over the front of your panties before ripping them off and devouring your aching slit with his tongue. You’re still wet now, your cunt cooled by the mix of his saliva and your arousal that slicks your thighs. Tom coos as he presses his fingers into your hole.

“Sir,” you whimper, reaching back to grab at the desk. You’re running hot, skin prickling with need. Your nipples press against the front of your shirt, aching and straining, moving with each heavy heave of your chest. As Tom curves his fingers and quickly finds your g-spot, your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

“You’re so wet, darling,” he murmurs thickly. Tom steps closer, thin lips biting at your neck as you whimper. He doesn’t need to be careful about leaving marks—both of you know the only person who will see you for the next hour will be him. “You want it, don’t you? You want to do this for me. You want to have my cock down your throat as everyone else sits up there, completely unaware of what you’re doing.”

You toss your head back, inching closer to a high that he’s only been denying you. “Yes,” you gasp out, knowing he’s right, knowing you can already feel the ache in your knees from the lecture hall’s carpet. “I want it.”

“Good girl.” Tom kisses your cheek before stepping back, his hand disappearing from between your legs. He ignores your whine of disappointment as he flops down into his desk chair, his thighs parting as he lazily unpicks his belt. He raises a brow towards you until you slowly sink to your knees, crawling between his legs and sitting at his feet obediently. The humiliation burns into lust as he strokes a hand over your cheek, eyes full of adoring arousal. “Such a good little thing, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen as you see him pull his cock free, his length full-mast and his tip weeping. Without thought, you find yourself licking your lips. You sit forward, eagerly looking up to him and shivering as you take in the lust swirling in his eyes.

“Please, Professor,” you ask, voice hoarse. “Can I suck you off now?”

He melts like a candle to a flame, cooing as he nods softly and brings both hands to hold the back of your head. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t make me cum. You can touch yourself if you really can’t control yourself, but you better not even think about cumming.”

Once he’s finished outlining his demands, you nod. Tom scoots closer, the chair all the way beneath the desk now and obscuring his face. It’s dark down here, but you can make out enough—his watch-clad wrist, laying back on his thigh, the outline of his cock. With the hand still on your cheek, Tom coaxes you forward, a throaty groan leaving his mouth as you finally part your lips and take him.

The stretch of your mouth is familiar and needed, and you find yourself moaning a little as your lips part to take him. Tom’s heavy on your tongue, and you tease your tip over his slit to gather the white beads of precum. As his taste seeps over you, you whine, and the sound thickens when Tom roughly pushes you further down.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lazy voice drifting down from above the desk. “Just like that. Keep that going. Mouth feels like fuckin’ heaven, darling. Such a good girl. So obedient.”

You hum in response, and slowly start to bob your head. You have an hour to kill, so you don’t go too fast, setting the speed gradually as he flexes the fingers on his thigh into a fist and holds your face with harsh fingers. The bite of the pain against your skin as he presses his index and middle fingers together just makes your arousal worse.

“People are about to come in,” he adds, voice low. “If you want to stop, just squeeze my hand, yeah?” When you moan in agreement, Tom hums. “Good girl.”

The noise in the lecture hall is quick to build as the clock approaches the hour. You stay beneath the table, your knees starting to hurt from the bend, but you like it. As Tom starts to present his lecture, you settle into a rhythm beneath him. You rest one hand on his knee for balance and keep the other between your legs, slowly playing with your sensitive bud as your mouth stays on his cock. You alternate between kitten-licking his messy tip and deep-throating him, concentrating immensely when you loosen your throat every time you press in closer.

Each time you push particularly deep, your nose ends up buried in the curly spring of hair above his pubic bone. Whenever that happens, Tom ends up losing his train of thought, stammering over his words as he pinches your cheek a little tighter. You keep it rare, only occasionally disrupting his flow, knowing better than to try and embarrass him in front of so many people. That’s not your objective, anyway.

Time loses meaning after a while, with everything fading that isn’t Tom. Tom—with his hand on your cheek, his legs warm against your front, his cock in your mouth. There’s a thick trail of saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and your eyes sting with tears. Small wet noises occasionally rise from your mouth as your lips pull away from his cock, and they mix with the noises of your fingers between your legs. You alternate between fucking yourself and teasing your clit, only toying, knowing nothing will come of your actions until he’s finished his class. You shift slightly from leg to leg, and the jostling makes you strike your g-spot just right.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as your mouth falls away from him, your eyelids fluttering shut as you feel the edge approach. You don’t want to cum, but it feels too good to stop. As you wrestle with the desire to give in and add another finger to your clit, Tom clears his throat.

“—Let me just grab something from my bag,” Professor Holland speaks, voice eloquent and clear. He bends over, his hands leaving you as he pretends to rummage your bag.

Tom looks at you, raising a brow in question as his eyes meet with yours. He doesn’t say a thing, still with a microphone clipped to the front of his suit, but his piercing dark eyes say it all:

I didn’t say you could stop.

He continues to look at you as you hasten to sit forward, tender knees digging further into the carpet as you take his cock back between your lips. You moan softly to show your appreciation, feeling more spit fall down your wet chin as you take him deeply. Tom’s lips soften, an expression of enjoyment briefly fluttering across his face before he reaches out to pat your cheek softly. He pulls up a moment later, procuring a blank piece of paper from his bag at the last moment.

You wonder if he’ll give you a second one-on-one lesson to catch you up on all the content that you’ve missed.

For the last part of the class, you focus primarily on him. Professor Holland weaves his hand into your hair and guides you, calling the shots as he pulls you deeper whenever he desires. You end up adding in your hand, using your fingers to pump the top of his length and paying attention to his thick girth as you pump him. Tom gets tetchy, his hips softly rising up to meet your movements every time you work him deeper. You can almost hear the relief in his voice as he utters, finally,

“That’s it, everyone. Thanks for your time. I’ll see you all next week. If anybody has any questions, my office hours can be found online.”

Tom strokes his fingers through your hair as you listen to the babble of noise rise again. There’s the sounds of laptops closing, bags zipping, people trudging down the stairs of the theatre. You take him all the way, his tip brushing up against the back of your throat. Your lips ache, and your tongue feels numb as your nose brushes up against his warm skin. He makes you wait a very long time, your mind running wild, mouth salivating as you stay still and hold him on your tongue, shivering in anticipation. The slick between your legs is just as persistent as it was an hour ago, and you can feel your needy hole clenching around nothing as your fingers slowly stroke your clit.

“Fucking finally,” Tom mutters. A moment later, he grabs you by the hair and quickly pulls you off, your lips releasing his cock with a pop. He scoots the chair back and jerks you forward, a few tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes struggle to readjust to the bright lighting of the room. “Oh, darling... You’re all messy.”

He easily hauls you up to your feet, but you don’t need to linger on your wobbly legs for too long before he’s pushing you up and onto his desk. Tom drops down, briefly bending over to kiss both of your knees before giving you his full, undivided attention. His hands go to your face, nimble fingers taking care of the tear tracks and the mess of drool and precum sticking to your chin. Your cheeks feel hot as he tuts his tongue and inspects you, his cock pressing up against your lower body as he steps closer.

“You did such a good job,” he adds, soothingly. His lips come down over your forehead. “Sucked my cock so well, sweetheart. Felt so good.”

You smirk softly, parting your legs and leaning back. You dig your elbows into the cool wood of his desk, looking up at his face and enjoying Tom’s gaze on your figure. His hands go down to your skirt, and he flips it up, fingers gravitating to your slit.

“Please, sir,” you manage, voice slightly hoarse, words slurring. “Please fuck me? I need you.”

Tom chuckles. He wraps his hand around his length and guides it to your slit, the hard pressure of his cock making you whimper when he presses his tip to your clit. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, and you cry out as he nudges his bulbous head against your clit.

“Well… I did say I’d reward you, didn’t I?” he teases. Tom shifts his cock down to your entrance, and you buck your hips, trying desperately to entice him into your pulsing hole. “Patient, my darling. Tell me how badly you want me.”

His ego pushes forward, its presence heightened by the cocky eyebrow he raises at you. You clench your fingers into fists, too far gone to be above begging and both of you know it.

“Please, sir,” you whimper, tossing your head back as he continues to apply a teasing pressure to your weeping cunt. “Been so good for you, sir. Waited all lesson for you. Didn’t even cum.” Your voice is broken, weighing heavy with arousal. “Please fuck me. I need it. I need you—”

Before you can finish, Tom sinks into you, your flushed walls parting easily. You feel your cunt flutter as it envelopes his length completely, Professor Holland not waiting a second to start pounding into you. You cry out loudly, jaw slack and hanging open as pleasure sails across you, filling every part of you to the brim. Tom grabs at your thighs, pulling you nearer and using his grip on your soft flesh as leverage to keep you wrapped around him. Slapping sounds fill the air as he rocks into you, his crotch meeting your centre every time as you cry out.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “Fits like a glove. So wet, darling. Such a tight fuckin’ pussy.”

You can’t speak, so you let out a breathless whine in response which earns you a tight chuckle from Tom.

“Mmm, too good to speak, isn’t it?” he teases. He drops a hand down to your clit and your back arches off the table as he starts to rub feverish circles to the bud. “God… Such a good girl. Taking me so well, like you were born to do this. That’s right, isn’t it? Snug pussy made just for me.”

He hits every spot exactly like you crave, cock filling you completely. You’ve been edged and teased for so long that the slightest touch would be enough to set you off, and it’s as if your body doesn’t know how to process such an onslaught of sudden sensations. With every rut of his hips against yours, you get closer, his member catching slickly against your walls in the most delicious ways. As Tom’s fingers continue to wrangle your clit, your vision blurs with tears of enjoyment.

“Gonna cum,” you manage, voice thick. You’re shaking, writhing on the table, and if he wasn’t gripping your thighs so firmly, you know you’d be trying to move away from such an intense source of pleasure. It’s overwhelming, but you crave it, and when Tom drops his head down to suck at your neck, you cry out.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he groans, voice hoarse against your ear. “Let go. Let me feel how snug this cunt gets for me, darling. Want you to make me cum.”

Your legs clamp around his back as you finally spin over the edge, your eyes rolling into your head as your back falls against the desk. Your climax sweeps over you, blending with your moans and Tom’s low grunts as he picks up his pace and thrusts faster. Your eyes find the point at which your bodies converge, and the sight of his cock pounding into you only extends your enjoyment.

He follows suit a few moments after you, spilling into you with a loud cry of your name. As his lips speak such a familiar word, the inflexion makes you clench, your pussy constricting around his cock and causing Tom to groan louder. He doesn’t stop railing you into the desk until both of you are spent, at which point he pulls away and leans up to connect your lips.

A smile spreads across your lips as Tom kisses you, his mouth infinitely more gentle than he’s been with his hands. You sit up to meet him, your legs shaking against the desk. As you loop your arms around his neck and sink into his lips, he continues to kiss you, breaking up his long snog into a series of lighter pecks.

“Did so good for me, my darling,” Tom mumbles against you. He’s stroking your back with a warm hand, his breathing ragged but slowly recovering. When he pulls back, he stays near, the tip of his nose pressing to yours. “Are you okay?”

You hum softly, shivering a little when Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Perfect,” you reply. “Bit thirsty, though.”

He frowns, the expression darkening his face. Tom leans closer to kiss your sore cheek, lips lingering there for a few moments as he hums.

“Let’s go,” he suggests. “I’ll take you home. Run you a bath, make you some tea. I’ll look after my girl.”

You pout softly, your heart clenching. “Okay,” you reply. He helps you down from the desk, his hands quickly curling around your waist when your knees threaten to buckle. As he chuckles, you shoot him a glare. “Don’t laugh at me,” you whine. “It’s your fault I’m like this!”

Tom nuzzles his nose to yours as he plants a final kiss to your lips. “Mm, I know,” he growls. “I’ll repay the favour later.”

[hypnomicimagines]

First Time [Iruma Jyuto]

Jyuto knew how to set a romantic mood.

The lighting in his apartment was set low but not too dark, the candles lining the dinner table giving just the right amount of illumination while you sat across from each other. You even teased that he brought out the fancy cutlery for your stay-at-home date, amused at the color tinging his face to say you hit the nail on the head. He normally wouldn’t put so much pomp and circumstance into his own meals but tonight had been a special occasion, and he hadn’t minded getting his hands dirty if it meant making you happy.

He didn’t often cook just for the sake of it with how busy he always was but on special occasions, he found the energy to do so. He had to follow the recipe down to the finest detail as he couldn’t afford to lose face and have to admit to you that he had to order take-out because of his reading comprehension skills. It was a stressful endeavor to keep the food warm until you got there (he started a bit early just in case more time was needed to prepare the meal, but it ended with everything being a bit before you were due to arrive). He was quite proud of his presentation as well and from the sparkle in your eye you were impressed as well, commenting about the perfection he seemed to stress in all areas of his life.

“This is good!” You put another forkful of food in your mouth, smiling as you did so; you knew he must have slaved over a hot stove to make this all for you, so you wanted to show your gratitude. You would’ve been perfectly fine with take-out since the only thing you were seeking from tonight was Jyuto’s company, but to know he went the extra mile for you made warmth spread across your chest.

“That’s good to hear. I’ve never tried this before so it was a toss-up on whether it’d be…edible.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth, he had tried this before but not in the natural course of his life. He had practiced making the meal about four times that week, having it for dinner every day and finding something new he had done wrong. His trial runs had left his stomach a bit upset, the same meal every day was tiresome, but he was dedicated to the cause of showing you a good time. He wouldn’t be cooking a large meal again so soon, or at least he hoped you’d want to do it together as a sort of romantic bonding exercise.

“You did great,” You reassured him, placing your utensils down on your now empty plate. “You always get so stressed out about impressing me. Consider me thoroughly impressed.”

Jyuto hated the way you could see through him yet at the same time he knew he needed a person like that, someone who could call him on his bullshit when he was putting on airs. He would never let you know, of course, sending a coy smile and motioning towards the living room. You listened to the clanking of dishes as Jyuto quickly cleaned up, approaching you with a glass of wine in hand before sitting beside you. The TV stayed on the low as light-hearted chatter took place, allowing you to bond without any distraction. Jyuto had always been the type of person to hate distractions, especially when you were on a date, it was why he liked when the opportunity for at home dates arose. He liked to take you out on the town just as much but it was just all the more personal when you could be close like this.

“You finished your wine. Being an upstanding officer of the law, I can’t allow you to drive yourself home like that.” Jyuto placed your glass beside his empty one, staring at you with a quirked eyebrow. “Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?”

“Hm, more comfortable than your couch? Why, I’d love to.”

You already knew where his bedroom was, you’d been in his house countless times before, staring at it at times when you headed off to the bedroom. You had once been amused at the sight of handcuffs just lying there and he had insisted with tomato red cheeks that they were for on-duty use only. You assumed he just had another set for when it was time to have fun in the bedroom but you didn’t press it, saving it in your arsenal for future flustering purposes.

You playfully fell back on his bed, a hand pressed to your head as you waited for him to join you. He’s fumbling with his tie but trying to act like he’s doing other things, a nervous reaction that has your blood pumping. You removed yourself from his bed (knowing you’d meet it again shortly) and reached up to help him, steadying his hands while doing your best to act like you weren’t paying attention to his face. His lips were parted, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip while you slowly slid his tie off. You grabbed his hands next, holding them up and slowly sliding the leather gloves he always wore off so the beautiful skin underneath could be seen.

Jyuto shuddered as you kissed his fingers, just the reaction you wanted as you continued to kiss each digit until you were satisfied. But something so simple wouldn’t curb his hunger for you for long and he slowly pushed you back towards the bed, waiting for you to fall back with your dramatic flair once more before ‘falling’ on top of you. He hovered over your lips, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitance but there was none to be found.

“Are you going to leave me waiting here all night, officer? I’m looking nice and pretty just for you, so I sure hope something happens before that pager of yours goes off.”

“You are beautiful.” Jyuto seemed breathless, “There’s not a single moment of this that I’m going to rush.”  

You were about to say another flirtatious comment but it was your turn to have your breath taken away, Jyuto’s impossibly soft lips brushing briefly against yours to silence you before drifting to your neck. He turned your head to give himself more access, kissing along your jaw as well, lips lingering at the point where he could feel your pulse. You might act as cool and calm as him but it was clear his feelings were returned, that you were as excited for this moment as he was. All those canceled dates, tension filled car rides, apologies and fights, it had all culminated into a relationship he felt was worth dying for.

If you asked him, he thought he really would take a bullet for you.

No need to have such morbid thoughts when the love of his life was laying before him, arching into his touch and moaning for more. His lips locked with yours and it became too hard to pull away even as he slowly stripped you of your clothing, even as you began to unbutton his shirt and tug at his pants. He let out a needy groan as you finally pulled away to get proper air consumption, giggling as he chased after your lips before pouting and fully stripping himself of his shirt. It felt obscene to see his hard dick peeking out from his boxers but you supposed you’d only ever seen Jyuto when he was ‘on’, in professional mode, even when you were on romantic outings together.

But this Jyuto was more vulnerable, quite literally having nothing to hide behind anymore.

It didn’t seem like he minded much.

Your eyes lit up as Jyuto’s hand slipped between your thighs, teasingly rubbing the area around your clit but denying the satisfaction of actual friction. He kissed between your breasts, then the soft skin around your nipples, his finger keeping its slow, steady pace. You had to imagine what this was like for so long yet you were happy to know that your brain had been right about quite a few things, like how talented Jyuto was with his fingers and how lovingly he treated foreplay. He was quite thorough in his exploring of your body, touching every part of your body he could reach, kissing every part of your body that you’d allow him to.

“I’m happy,” You whispered as Jyuto’s forehead rested against yours, a momentary pause. “Thank you for such a wonderful night.”

“I’d give you anything you ask for.”

“That doesn’t count if I’m naked.”

“Put your clothes back on then, and I’ll make sure to keep the same promise.”

“Do you want me to put my clothes back on?”

“…No.”

You laughed into the kiss Jyuto gave you next, spreading your legs to give him more room to settle himself between your thighs. You can feel his dick pressing against you, eager as it’s owner, but you don’t push him to move. You’re enjoying the feeling of him rubbing against your clit, his lips moving to your neck again as he wanted to reassure you were ready for him.

You were ready.

More than ready.

You had waited for this mans dick for so long but your pride wouldn’t allow you to say such a thing, nor would you stroke this mans already large ego. You tried to keep your moans quiet but it was so hard when he knew what he was doing, listening to your body with ease and receptive to all the things that made you feel good. You muffled your groan of pleasure by crushing your lips against Jyuto’s as he pressed inside of you, the sensation of being finally being filled after waiting for so long being a welcoming sensation.

The rest seemed to blend together as Jyuto moved his hips, eyes laser-focused on your face even as you tried to hide from him; it was embarrassing, the way moans kept slipping out with every thrust. You don’t think any man has ever made you feel as good as him, as loved and cherished, and the more you thought about it the more turned on you were. You changed tactics for hiding your face with a nearby pillow to holding Jyuto close, pressing kisses to his shoulder much like he had been doing to you a few moments before.

Jyuto wanted to see you but he’d let it go for now, knowing there would be plenty of time to plead his case when it came to seeing the beauty of your face while he pleasured you. His pace began to quicken and your legs tightened around his waist further, little whimpers slipping past your lips that encouraged him to keep moving at that perfect angle. It’s a battle of wills for who’s going to come first but Jyuto cheated, hand barely capable of slipping between you yet doing so so he could toy with your clit. You tried to call him out on his cheating but your body is in ecstasy as you come, crying out his name and trying to ignore the knowing smirk on his face.

It had been a few hours but it only felt like a few minutes, your naked form staying tangled with Jyuto’s even after he pulled out. It was like a part of you was worried it still wasn’t real, that you were just in bed with the company of your hand and vibrator and not the man you’d loved for nearly a year now. As he reached over to kiss your face again your brain came to terms with that fact your wildest dreams were coming through, you were indeed in bed with the cop that you had a teasingly flirtatious turned real love relationship with.

You should tell him that, tell him that you love him, make it even more real by making that first move but.

“Say it!”

“Say what?” He shot you a coy look, eyebrow raised. “Is there something I should be saying now?”

“There is! I won’t say it first. I refuse! Now hand it over.”

“Or else what? What’ll you do to me if I don’t give you what you want?”

“Oh, so you want another round then? Not until I hear the magic words.”

“Which are…?”

You’d be at it all night, but Jyuto never could deny you.

You just had to be patient.

[arlertwifey]

snk cast x gn!reader + cute summertime romance

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, PLEASE!

☼ — ft. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Levi, Hanji, & Erwin (all characters are 18+)

☼ — genre: pure fluff + gn!reader x character, warnings: mentions of vandalism/petty crime, alcohol mentions 

☼ — a/n: please enjoy my first snk x reader content :)

E R E N

Fills his time with a weird mix of volunteering around the city and committing blatant acts of vandalism

He spends his days helping out at the youth shelter and nights scribbling graffiti anywhere he can find a spot. Takes you to spray-paint every underpass you come across

Unnaturally good at arcade games and wins you lots of little random plushies from the claw machines. Your favorite is an angry-looking brown bear that you can’t help but think resembles him

Loves to stay up late and discover new parts of the city with you. Has a bad habit of falling asleep on your shoulder wherever you are though, when he finally runs out of energy

Even though he tries to play it off like he’s too cool for them, insists that you two take cute photobooth pictures together and keeps his favorite of them in his wallet

A R M I N 

Practically lives at the beach during the summer. The two of you plan out your days there in advance so your able to visit the different tide pools and see various sea creatures.

Has a strong sweet tooth. He’s a huge fan of any type of frozen treat, but is extremely partial to slushies. In at least half the pictures you get of your summertime adventures, his mouth is stained teal from the blue-raspberry flavor he always buys.   

Gets surprisingly tan during the summer, due to the fact that he’s outside whenever possible. Even when studying, he prefers to do so at parks around where he lives rather than indoors. His hair bleaches out a little further as well.

Willing to go to parties with you when the two of you are invited by mutual friends, but tends to slip outside to the porch after the first hour. More often than not, the two of you wind up ditching all together and heading off to find someplace to get late night food. 

He brings you to visit his grandfather during the summertime and the two of you help him out with repairs around the house. Being around the two people he loves the most brings out Armin’s talkative side and the three of you spend your vacation days swapping stories over glasses of iced tea.

M I K A S A 

Busy during the summer, so you can’t meet as much as would like

Part of her gym’s regional kickboxing team and helps teach part time. You go to all her matches and cheer till your voice gives out. She tells you that you don’t have to come, but secretly is so, so grateful that you do

On days when you’re both free, you try out all the best brunch places in the city. Mikasa prefers small family-owned businesses. The two of you quickly become regulars at your favorite spots

Sends you voice messages when you are apart ever since you said that you liked to hear her voice. She’s adorably awkward in them, usually just telling you about whatever she’s doing at the time and how much she misses you

Gets misty-eyed when you show up at the airport with flowers for her when she gets back home. Squeezes you till your out of breath and lifts off the ground a little bit when you hug again after your time apart.

J E A N

The actual best at planning a fun day full of activities

Busts his ass working at a couple part time jobs most days, but makes up for how busy is by making sure you two have the best possible time and do the most when you’re together

The type to have a bucket list for all the different activities he thinks you guys should do together. He puts a lot of effort into creating it with you. The two of you decorate two matching posters so that each of you has a copy. 

A little bit of a sucker for cliches: ice cream dates and visiting waterparks. He’s a romantic at heart and with you he feels like he can finally participate in all the classic lovey-dovey activities couples do.

One of those people who acts like an influencer despite the fact that he’s only followed by family and friends. Takes super high quality pics of you so he can brag about how great his s/o is. Took a few photography classes in college and it shows. Every photo he takes of you looks amazing because you can tell just how enamored he is with you.

King of matching couple fits. Loves when the two of you wear coordinating colors or even just similar accessories.

L E V I 

Not a fan of hot weather, so prefers to hang out in the evenings or early mornings when it’s cooler (which works well with the fact that he has to work most days). 

Has no clue what to do during the summer, besides what you two always do, but does his best

You two go for early morning runs at his suggestion and then get breakfast afterwards. There’s a smoothie place down the block from the park that you frequent, with different local fruit specials each week. 

He brings you to his favorite tea shop and you two slowly drink your way through their summer refresher menu throughout the season. You learn

Is willing to go to the beach, but be prepared to cover the man with sunscreen, because he burns. Since he knows that he won’t encounter anyone from work, he sometimes wears a large sunhat for extra UV protection.

When your vacation time finally lines up, the two of you get out of the city and head to the charming town where his mother lives. You get to help Kuchel in her garden and listen to her stories about adorable young Levi.

While he’s not extremely enthusiastic about summer as a season, he does find it far more enjoyable when he gets to spend it with you

H A N J I

Lives for traveling during the summer months, half for fun and half for their work as part of an anthropological research team. Whenever they can’t bring you along, expect lots of silly, cheesy postcards and many late night phone calls.

Thinks that camping is an absolute must. You two go on hikes together to find the best places to camp. Teaches you all sorts of cool facts about the different areas you are in. Likes when the two of you get “lost” and have to navigate back with a compass (and a park map as backup).

Makes their own homemade juice blends (some better than others) and freezes them into popsicles. Brings you them and other snacks when you’re working.

Stays up late with you and points out different constellations while you drink hot cocoa on the rooftop of their apartment building. While you don’t understand everything they are explaining to you, you love to watch their excited expression and enthusiasm as they tell you all about the world.

E R W I N

Glamorous cultural events are Erwin’s favorite part of the summertime 
Expect to to be brought to opening ceremonies, christenings of cruise ships, and wine tastings

Despite the fancy events, Erwin makes sure you don’t feel too out of place by spending the evenings shit talking the other guests with you, and trying to guess who is sleeping with who and who is going to get drunk and ruin the evening

Insists that you get out of the city as often as possible, so expect a lot of weekend getaways

As much as he likes to do things with you, he can also appreciate an afternoon spent drinking sangria and reading by the poolside (a private pool, of course. He can’t resist asking you to put sunblock on his back (half because he actually needs the help, half just to see you blush at the request).

Owns a sleek vintage convertible that he’s only able to drive in the warmer months. Likes to pick you up from work in it while still dressed in his impeccably sharp suit from the office, just to see the looks on your coworkers faces

[nesswritings]

Mine, Forever

Oikawa clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I’ve been thinking, and I finally have a task for you. You know Ushiwaka, correct? Since you failed to take me out, I’m hoping you can take him out.”

a/n: My piece for @inarizahki's mafia collab. Thanks Sunny for the slight peer pressure to do this, it reminded me how much I love writing and mafia au's. Sending my love to you <3 <3 <3 word count: 2.2k

Warnings: stockholm syndrome, dub-con, general mafia topics (violence, guns, blood, etc.), death mentions, slight yandere oikawa, alcohol and drugs mentions, nsfw content at end

Shit. The bullet missed, hitting the man’s shoulder instead of going clean through his head. Below there already was a commotion, curses and directions being shouted out by someone. Time was limited, and you had to get back before you got caught. Karasuno was expecting you back safely, though the assassination was a failed mission. Survive, get back, and recover from this shock, then you could try again. Stairs in the back, the gun left behind so you could leave quickly.

But arms caught you as you emerged from the door at the bottom, your instincts already kicking in. The grip was too tight, and there were others there. Outnumbered, and stuck in this position. Your eyes rested on the muscular man you had attempted to take out, his slumped form against an alleyway wall as another man pressed a blue handkerchief against the wound. But that sight was short lived, your chin forced up to take in a new man, a man who didn’t seem to belong with the rest of Seijoh.

“You hurt Iwa-chan, sweetheart,” he cooed, ignoring the flinch from the nickname. Oh, that wouldn’t do, his eyes tracing over your outfit. It was easy to catch the small snag of the patch, pulling at the collar to truly take it in. A smirk set on his face, lithe fingers tearing the patch off the fabric before it was handed off. “Ah, so cute and clueless you’ve been involved. Don’t worry, they’ll pay in a different way. But you. You’re mine, princess, and don’t you ever forget that.” Dark words from a pretty man, words that only made him smile as he caught you off guard. But the rest understood, a murmur coming from Mattsun. “Don’t worry, I won’t let your pretty head hit the ground. So just relax.”

You sit up in the bed, your breath racing and your heart pounding in your chest. Only a dream, it was only a dream. No, it was a dream of the night you had been caught, the night Karasuno had been raided and the bloody massacre on the base. Oikawa had promised you’d pay in a different way, but you weren’t sure how that would happen. You weren’t used for sex, you weren’t on the streets trafficking drugs. No, you were stuck in this small room daily, with meals delivered and the blinking red light of the camera being a reminder that someone was always watching.

How long has it been? Days passed slowly and blended together. You would see Oikawa most days, though you refused to talk about Karasuno and who you were. But, despite the challenge, the company was nice. At least a week of being here, you knew that much, but the world would be different if you ever left.

The knock interrupts your thoughts, sitting up as you see the aforementioned man walk in. Two trays instead of one, the suit sharp with the light blue accents. Meant to seem less intimidating, and to show that they had a sense of style, Oikawa had once told you. A useless fact that stuck with you, the tapping against your cheek snapping you out of your thoughts for good.

“Eat up, princess.” Oikawa left little room for debate, settling at the desk with his eyes pointed at you. His gaze drops to his phone, glancing over the latest update. Iwaizumi would heal with time, though a nasty scar from the bullet would remain. Oikawa clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I’ve been thinking, and I finally have a task for you. You know Ushiwaka, correct? Since you failed to take me out, I’m hoping you can take him out.”

Ushijima, a man you knew simply by name. Larger than Seijoh, far more terrifying, and a beast of a man to mess with. Rumors always spread about that man, whether it was about how he tortured someone or his latest acquisition. Someone like him was far beyond your paygrade, your fork dropping onto the plate as you processed the request. “I can’t.”

“Oh, you can. And you will.” Oikawa didn’t bother with finishing his food, leaving the half-touched plate on the desk. “I’ll send someone for you soon. Until then, be good.”

Another typical day, outside of that small taste of freedom. Even if you weren’t to be trusted, your hands bound with rope, you were out of that room. A small taste of fresh air, finally able to see where you were. The Seijoh headquarters, luxurious and full of their distinguishing light blue accents. You follow behind closely, almost in shock at being led into Oikawa’s office. A meeting in progress with his closest men and an invite from the leader. His lap, with little choice.

Boring, dreadfully boring, but the interaction was nice. Though they continued on as though you weren’t there, it gave your mind a break from thinking over your mistakes. No, your focus was on the warmth of Oikawa, the gentle swirl of his fingers on your thighs. The touch was enough to distract you, your head resting against Oikawa’s shoulder. Far more gentle than that night, almost as if he cared. Maybe he did. It was a bad mindset to let yourself fall into, but if he cared, there was no reason to let your guard down a little.

“You’re dismissed for the day. Iwa, make sure to get some rest.” Oikawa accepts the grunt from him, waving off the men without a care in the world. His focus was on you, his new pawn to use as he needed. “You’re staying, sweetheart.” His hands move to keep a tight grasp on your waist, leaning forward to let his cheek rub against yours. There was so much he could do, so much he wanted to do, but trust was a little more important. Establish that trust, then he would be able to have his way with you. “You’ve been kept in that room for far too long, haven’t you? You can spend your days by me, if you’d like. All you have to do is listen. Deal?”

He wanted you to be on board with the Ushijima plan. Maybe he thought you were dumb, but you weren’t, your eyes locking on the map on the wall. Pins marked where various fights had been, a giant red X over where Karasuno had once been. Your home was gone, and there was no return to those you considered family. “It’s a deal.”

You had freedom, though in an unconventional way. Oikawa was glued to you, or you were at his side. Like a master and a dog, though you were granted alone time once you were brought back to your room in the evenings. The freedom helped you to keep track of the dates, to keep track of time, and to learn more about Seijoh. Members, the history, what their plans involved. Oikawa trusted you, or you would meet your end after you completed what he needed you for.

The plan was in place, and the night quickly approached. Everyone was counting down the hours until the fall of Shiratorizawa, until Seijoh would be the ones in charge of the entire region.

“Your dress, your highness.” Makki’s teasing voice was the only one in the small room, your eyes looking at the bag. Oikawa had mentioned a party, but dressing up? You stand from the bed, the dress revealed. Black and silky, bound to be tight and short on you. And, of course, jewelry with blue accents, as if being with Oikawa wouldn’t expose you. “Thanks, Makki.” Your fingers run over the material, looking at the mafia man who didn’t budge. He was going to help you get ready. This was beyond embarrassing, a groan leaving your lips. “Make it quick.”

Tight enough to show off your figure, yet loose enough for Makki to strap the pistol to your side and give it a teasing pat. Everything was almost too good, letting him escort you out to the main entrance. Seijoh was gathered, and more than ready to go.

“Thanks, Makki.” Oikawa offers his arm out for you, his plan for the night set in place. Keep you next to him, entertain you, and have you take out his enemy during the deal. “Come along, princess, we don’t have all night.”

The drive was nearly silent, sandwiched between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. You were his precious gem, his special girl, his hidden tool, compliments he had showered you with in the past days. When the car stopped outside the venue, you could feel warm fingers intertwining with your own, a squeeze following. “Just wait for my cue, cutie, then a bullet to the head. Do a good job for me, and we’ll get you out of that stuffy room.”

Heart beating fast in your chest, you allow him to help you out, knowing how the evening would progress. Mingling, staying glued to his side, looking pretty. Inside and outside of Seijoh were bound to be the same, and the least you could do was behave. If Oikawa was playing nice, you would as well. Being led around while nursing various drinks and small appetizers was relaxing, only required to give a smile and accept the occasional kiss or dip of fingers underneath the dress slit from Oikawa. A tease, but no one noticed, or they didn’t dare to say anything to him. Fear and tension were in the air, but for unspoken reasons.

By the time Ushijima shows up, you were escorted away, as Oikawa claimed that their talks weren’t suited for ladies like you. Iwaizumi stands next to you, his presence both comforting and terrifying as you steady the shot. Your finger itches to pull the trigger, adrenaline already coursing through your body. So long without an assassination, without a task to complete, and it was coming to backfire. As Oikawa’s hand rises in the air, your finger moves to hover over the trigger, pulling as soon as his fist closes.

Bang. The smell of gunpowder and commotion follows the noise, your brain already guiding you through your old process. Wipe the gun down and get the hell out of there. Iwaizumi stops you before you could run, cocking his head towards the back. Even if you had shot him, the resentment must have passed by now. One of his hands rests firmly on your back, the other grabbing the gun, leading you away from the chaos and out into the fresh air.

You scramble to sit up on his bed as Oikawa finally arrives, blood spatters on his white shirt and a streak across his forehead. A smile graces your lips as he presses closer, the smell of blood strong as your lips meet. Sweet, gentle, until Oikawa got hungry, your hair spread along his sheets in an instant and his teeth nipping lightly at your lip.

“Good fucking girl, aren’t you?” The words make your heart flutter, the streak of blood in your vision for a moment as his lips move to suck on your exposed collarbone. Your head was heavy between the pleasure and the alcohol from before, soaking in the praise from Oikawa. “Took care of Ushiwaka for me. You’ll be mine forever, won’t you?”

You feel the fabric of the dress being bunched around your waist, a moan slipping from your lips as his fingertips tease your clit. “Yeah, yours forever.” You were too occupied in how his fingers danced over your clit, unable to see the smirk that graced his lips. Panties were pushed aside, fingers finally entering your wet cunt. Your hips bucked as his fingers thrusted brutally into your sweet spot, back arching and pussy tightening around them. “There, please Tooru, there!”

“Patience.” Oikawa would spend his entire night ruining you, learning every inch of your body, marking what belonged to him. You were of Seijoh now, and he had no intentions of ever giving you up. But he could give into your demands, feeling you were worthy of a reward. You did what he asked, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers continued to hit the spot that made your toes curl. He hums softly as you tighten around his fingers, slowing his pace to a gentle pumping and glancing at your fucked out face. “Not yet, darling.”

His hand is gentle over yours like always, guiding it to his clothed cock. You bite your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes. Expected, yes, but your thighs were still shaking and it was hard to focus when those fingers continued to work your cunt open.

“I love you, cutie. You’ll do it for me, won’t you?” Oikawa leans closer, letting his fingers curl up and his lips press against yours. He soaks up the cry that leaves your mouth, only pulling away when you begin to nod frantically.

Your hands undid his slacks, pushing them down enough. Maybe not a large cock, but intimidating enough in the tight underwear. “I’ll do it, Tooru. Anything for you.”

“That’s a good girl.” His fingers pull out of your cunt slowly, dragging along the dress to clean them. It was time to take matters into his own hand, fishing his cock out. “Don’t be a brat. We have forever together, cutie, you and me.”

[dovechim]

blessed be the fruit 01 (m)

➾ 3.6k, taehyung x reader, future OT7

➾ loosely based off The Handmaid’s Tale. In the New World Order that is Gilead, your life depends on your ability to bring a new one into existence. 

➾ warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of infertility, pregnancy, mentions of dubcon

➾ a/n: I had serious hesitation and doubts about this. but after a three month break and looking at it from a distance, I still want to go ahead with this AU because I want to draw attention to the themes of reclaiming agency & identity whilst under oppression. So I hope that you could get the message I’m trying to convey rather than focus on the noncon indubitably present in this AU. 

I'm saying this to clearly outline my intentions, for I do not condone rape or non-consensual sex whatsoever. 

that being said, I have plans to turn this into an ot7 series fic, but here is a little starter just to kind of test the waters a little :-) if you’re here, I've already warned you about what you’re signing up for, so please skip this if uncomfortable and refrain from sharing any malicious thoughts with me.

Crimson is the colour that denotes life. But these days, only the rare few have the privilege to don that colour; the deep red hue of the cloak that is meant to simultaneously draw attention to, and also hide your figure.

Handmaids are to be seen and not heard. They are to speak only when spoken to. The white wings that adorn either side of your head keep your gaze lowered reverently at all times. Meek and subdued, but always watching, waiting.

The supermarket is quiet and orderly as you stroll through the aisles with your partner close by your side. You have never seen more than a glimpse of her face, neither have you heard more than a few words of her voice other than the greetings you exchange when you meet every morning.

Even the task of grocery shopping, which you used to enjoy before the rise of Gilead, has become nothing but a sham. There is no decision to be made. Your purchases are entirely dependent on the coupons given to you by the Wife of your Household. Today, it’s the usual rice and vegetables, with one or two oranges thrown in as a request from the Cook.

“Under His Eye,” you murmur as you pass the other Handmaids and their partners, all doing their shopping with their partners.

You can’t see it with your head lowered, but there are armed guards stationed throughout the grocery store with guns cocked and menacing stares. The Eyes are always watching and listening, and you begin to feel suffocated.

“I believe I have everything I need,” you speak in a lowered voice, turning slightly to your partner, thinking of how to best hurry her along without making it too obvious. “Is there anything else you lack?”

“I too, am done, OfJeon,” your partner replies back, and you have to physically stop yourself from flinching.

Even though it is the proper way to address another Handmaid, you avoid using the names bestowed upon you by their Household’s Commanders. You try your best to not associate yourself with that name, for fear that you might come to forget your own in due time, but it gets more and more difficult as the days go by.

‘Of’ denoting possession, and ‘Jeon’ for your Commander’s last name. Put together, they form your identity, the identity that Gilead has carved out for you as an object.

The moment you forget your real name is the moment you lose yourself.

“Let us depart, OfPark,” you say with tightly clenched lips, grateful for the white wings that hide your bitter expression as you turn toward the exit of the grocery store.

Your basket is heavy with groceries, and the wind whips up your red cloak the moment you step outside. You glance up for a moment to see the gray skies, feel the wind on your cheeks before you dip your head down again, cautious of exposing your face for more than a second.

Here, to blend in is to survive.

“Have you made all the necessary preparation, OfJeon?” Your partner asks as she links her arm through yours, and you begin the slow march home.

You drag your feet slightly, hoping to prolong the walk. Aside from the brief half hour of grocery shopping every day, you hardly get a chance to be outside. To remember what the real world feels like, even though it is changing so quickly every day. You’re too busy trying to memorise the way the wind feels against your cloak that you are caught slightly offguard by OfPark’s question.

“Preparation?” Your voice comes out slightly unsure.

“For the Ceremony, of course,” comes her reply, and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling sharply.

Is it already that time of the month? How could you have lost track?

A lump forms in your throat as you attempt to calm yourself. “Yes, OfPark. Everything is ready.”

You are lying through your teeth, but the thing is, interactions are kept to such a bare minimum that no one knows you well enough to know that you are lying. If today is the day of the Ceremony, it means a visit to the doctor’s this afternoon. Your breath speeds up at the thought of it, palms becoming sweaty.

OfPark comes to a stop outside of your house, and unlinks her arm from yours.

“Blessed be the fruit,” she says by way of farewell.

“May the Lord open,” the automatic response falls from your lips without much thinking.

Then the gates open, and you enter the house quietly, setting your basket on the kitchen counter. You can hear footsteps coming from the main hallway as soon as you take your white bonnet off.

“You’re back, I was just about to send a guard to fetch you.” In her royal blue dress that tapers at her waist and falls nearly to her ankles, the Wife of the Household is always neatly pressed and well put together. Kim Yeri fixes you with an annoyed glare as she brushes her silky blonde hair behind her ear. You haven’t known her by that name in a long while, because like any other woman, she is only to be addressed by her title in society.

“Did you forget your appointment?” She demands, crossing her arms. She has never been outrightly mean to you, yet her manner is far from friendly. But its totally understandable, of course. Which woman would be content knowing her husband was required by law to fuck a baby into someone else?

“No, Madam. The line at the supermarket was-“

“Get in the car. We’re already late.” Yeri is not interested in your excuse as she cuts you off, turning to grab her purse, and her dress flows gracefully behind her slim figure as she walks to the door.

You barely have time to put your bonnet back on, fixing it so that it is presentable once more before following her outside. Yeri is already in the back seat of the black SUV car, and you climb in beside her. You catch a glimpse of Driver Jung’s eyes in the mirror, but quickly glance away before Yeri can catch you.

Drivers aren’t allowed to have Handmaids of their own. Instead, they live to serve the Household of their Commanders. As the car pulls smoothly out of the front gate, you begin to wonder who Driver Jung was before Gilead. If he had loved ones that he lost. If he too, was slowly starting to forget the person he was back then.

The blacked-out windows of the car don’t allow you to see anything outside. It is a tense journey made in complete silence as you can feel Yeri’s annoyance slowly mounting into a barely withheld fury. It is the same every month. You try to sympathise with her, to put yourself in her shoes as someone who has to accompany the woman her beloved husband is to have sex with to a fertility check-up.

When the car stops, Driver Jung rushes out of his seat to open the door for Yeri first, then he crosses to your side and opens your door. You thank him with a shy nod, careful to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as you follow Yeri into the clinic.

The waiting room has about one or two other Wife-Handmaid pairs.  As you walk in, you catch the eye of one of the Handmaids who is heavily pregnant. Her swollen belly protrudes from her red cloak, and her hands look so small in comparison as she strokes her bump reverently. The Wife sits beside her, a look of pride on her face as if she were the one pregnant.

It is such a rare sight to see a pregnant Handmaid these days. Even though the Handmaids were specially selected because of their fertility, your lack of a baby bump is bearing down on you. Each Handmaid is given three chances at each assignment. Three chances to conceive before they are moved to the next Commander. Three assignments in total before she is sent to the Wastelands.

Lining the walls are portraits of Commanders dressed in black, and their Wives dressed in blue, holding little bundles wrapped in white. The couples are all smiling with joy and pride in their eyes.

The Handmaids are nowhere to be seen in the happy families of three.

You don’t know if you should envy or pity the heavily pregnant Handmaid.

Thankfully, due to Yeri’s- or should you say your Commander’s- high status, you are bumped to the front of the line. The receptionist tells you to enter the doctor’s room, but Yeri waves you on with disinterest.

“I can wait outside here, can’t I? She won’t dare try anything,” she says this last part with cold frown, settling herself down on one of the waiting chairs.

“Of course, Mrs Jeon,” the receptionist says with a pleasant smile, then turns to show you into the doctor’s office.

You read the name on the door before you are shuffled into the white, sterile room.

Dr Kim Taehyung.

Two female assistants help you to take off your red cloak and dress you in the standard white gown. You sit on the chair, legs spread wide into the stirrups. The assistants lower a privacy curtain that conceals your face, leaving your lower half anonymous as you hear the door open, then the doctor’s footsteps.

You don’t even get to see his face before you feel his touch on your knees. Dr Kim Taehyung clears his throat before he moves to the side, dipping his gloved hands into a small dish of what you can only assume to be lubrication. The white privacy curtain is nothing but a thin sheet, so you can still make out his figure as he bustles about. You can even see the slope of his nose as he turns his side profile to you for a second.

It’s not until he speaks that you are jolted out of your thoughts by how deep his voice is. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you answer hesitantly, unconsciously crinkling your medical gown in your fist. No one has ever asked how you’re doing.

“That’s great, now let’s have a look, shall we?” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you feel your body relax a little.

He seems to be kind enough, this Dr Kim Taehyung. Much different from the doctor you had on your first visit. Dr Kim Taehyung has his bedside manner down pat, and even though you can’t see his face, he makes you feel a little bit less tense. His voice soothes you as he talks, saying random things about the weather as he spreads your legs.

Dr Kim Taehyung positions himself in between your thighs, and you feel his gloved hands dangerously close to the apex of them. “So, it says here on your chart that tonight is Ceremony night for you.”

“Yes,” you swallow hard at the reminder. “It is.”

“And how are the Jeons treating you? Everything okay at home?” You can feel him spread your lips with his fingers, starting to poke and prod around as you close your eyes.

“Yes. They treat me very well,” you answer.

He must have caught the monotony of your voice, because his fingers pause.

“You know, you can talk to me. If there’s anything you need.” His concerned voice is like a beacon of light, but your eyes dart around the room cautiously.

You think about the millions of things that you could tell him. How unfair it is to be reduced to a walking womb, and yet, how desperate you are, knowing that this is your third month at the Jeon’s household, and if it doesn’t work…

You swallow all of these thoughts with your fists clenched. You can never let your guard down. He might be one of the Eyes, pretending to be kind so that you might let slip a blasphemous comment about your Commander. There’s no way you’ll incriminate yourself like that, so you just keep your mouth shut. After a while, he goes back to examining you.

“… Alright then,” Dr Kim Taehyung says in a resigned tone. “Let me just check you over and make sure everything is good for tonight. This might feel a little uncomfortable, but just relax for me alright?”

You can’t help but tense up, ironically, at his instruction. But then you feel the warmth of one of his ungloved hands on your thigh, and as he bids you to relax again, he slides his fingers into you, and you can feel his fingers, thick and solid. Your thighs twitch, coming into contact with his hips that are in between them, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

“It’s okay… just a little more.”

Then, he withdraws his fingers slowly, and you let out a breath of relief. It didn’t feel bad, definitely not like the first visit where you felt violated. Dr Kim Taehyung’s gentle and respectful manner is… almost pleasant. You’ve long forgotten what it’s like to be treated like a human being, and not just an object.

“Looks like everything’s in shape, you’re due to ovulate these few days,” he declares, taking off his rubber gloves and tossing them in the bin. “Not that it matters, anyway. Jeon’s probably sterile. Hell, all of the Commanders are sterile.”

You freeze at the sound of that blasphemous curse word. But more importantly, you have to make sure you heard correctly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You watch his shadow behind the sheet as he ticks a few things on your chart.

In this society, ‘sterile’ is a forbidden word. There is no such thing as a sterile man. There are only women who are fruitful, and women who are barren. But you know better than to subscribe to such damning ideology.

“Darling. I’ve seen so many top Commanders’ Handmaids in this room. In and out, month after month they come back and their Wives ask me why they aren��t pregnant yet.” He places a hand on your knee again, and that human contact makes you realise how much you crave the warmth of another person.

At the same time, his words awaken the hollow desperation in your chest. If… if Jeon is really sterile, that means no matter how many times you try, you won’t get pregnant. If all the Commanders are really sterile, then no matter how many assignments you get…

“It’s your third month here, isn’t it?” His kind voice accompanies the gentle stroke of his thumb on your knee.

Before you can answer, he steps away from you, walking to the door and double checking that it’s locked. Then, he’s between your legs again, and this time, his ungloved hands are caressing the top of your thighs. You can feel his hips pressing against you insistently.

“I can help you,” he says in a low whisper. “It’s your last chance.”

Your mind is in a fog. It’s hard to think clearly when you are craving his touch on your body, and the way in which he wraps your legs around his waist so delicately has you wanting to give in. Let this be a form of rebellion. An act of reclaiming your body and your agency, giving it to a man who treats you like a human being, and more importantly, deciding who you give it to. So that when Jeon performs the Ceremony with you tonight, no one but you will have the secret pleasure of knowing that someone else was here before him.

And if you do get pregnant, you will have the last laugh as you watch Jeon raise a baby that isn’t even his to begin with.

How’s that for rebelling? It’s no longer just about getting pregnant.

“I’ve helped many other Handmaids before,” Dr Kim Taehyung continues furtively. “They were all on their third Assignments. I saved them from the Wastelands.”

You don’t need any more convincing. You reach out and pull the thin privacy sheet aside, finally revealing Dr Kim Taehyung’s face. He looks taken aback at your bold actions.

“Do it, Doctor,” you fix your eyes on him with determination. “Get me pregnant.”

Dr Kim Taehyung looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to say yes to him, and delight slowly spreads across his face. But he can’t help himself from bringing one of his hands to your face, brushing your cheek and admiring your silent, resilient beauty.

“U-um, okay. He-here goes,” he fumbles with his dress pants, and the confidence from minutes ago is nowhere to be found. It occurs to you that he might have been fibbing about helping the other Handmaids before you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s no longer just about getting pregnant, anyway.

Thanks to the lubrication, he slides in easily. You catch a glimpse of him before he does, and a second later you feel his girth acutely. During the Ceremony, the lights are always turned off, so you never have a chance to see what Jeon’s dick looks like. If you were to compare, it feels around the same as Dr Kim’s. Except this time, you are doing this of your own accord.

The squeaking of the chair against the floor is deafeningly loud as he begins to thrust earnestly, and the thrill that you could be caught at any moment makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been since the rise of Gilead. You can feel him at your cervix as he grips your thighs, and you make sure to wrap them around him tightly.

In an unprecedented move, Dr Kim reaches down to brush his thumb against your clit, and your walls clench around him in response. He swears under his breath as he shifts his position to rest his elbows on either side of you so that he can increase the strength behind his thrusts.

“Sh-shit, you feel so good,” he groans as he sneaks his hand in between your bodies once more to pinch your clit. No one has cared about your pleasure like this in a long while, and you feel your body responding to his ministrations, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Ha-harder, Doctor,” you feel his cheek press against your breast. “Cum inside me.”

You swear you can feel him twitch inside you, as he bites his lip hard. You have a hard time holding back your derisive laughter as Dr Kim Taehyung gets more turned on than ever. So this is his kink? This is the perfect job for him. Seeing Handmaids who are more often than not desperate to get pregnant, no matter by whom.

You feel a modicum of power back in the palm of your hand, which is more than you’ve felt in ages. The feeling of having power over someone else as you watch the pleasure take over Dr Kim Taehyung’s expression is addictive. The man is losing himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. Meanwhile you are the one watching him rut pathetically, straining to reach his end.

“Cum inside me, Doctor,” you say again, squeezing your walls around him and relishing his groan. “I’ll make you cum inside me.”

“Pl-please, call me Taehyung,” he pleads, raising himself up on his elbows to beg for a kiss.

You oblige, watching his desperation slowly take over his entire being. His lips are soft as he kisses you like a man starved, and you wonder who was the last person he kissed like this. Does he kiss all of the Handmaids he impregnates?

The next words you say are perfectly calculated. “Taehyung, I want your baby.”

There’s no reaction other than his hands clenching into tight fists, and his breathing getting harsher and harsher as his cock slams deep into you, and you clench around him one more time, only to feel him fill you up with his cum. The seed that you need to get pregnant and save your own life.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still twitching inside you, and you can still feel the cum threaten to leak out. Dr Kim Taehyung lets out a long sigh of contentment as he expertly tilts the chair so that your hips are slightly raised.

When he’s satisfied, he slowly pulls out, eyes glued to the mess in between your legs. Only a little bit of cum is dripping out, and he reaches for a tissue to clean it up. The way he’s looking at you, a little bit too fondly, makes you realise that this is getting a bit too personal for your liking.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you remind him, and the phrase is like magic. You are all reminded of your roles in this society, and the forbidden act which you have both committed.

Dr Kim Taehyung seems to sober up when he hears this, as he tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to straighten his doctor’s coat.

“May the Lord open. You should… um. Stay here for the next ten to fifteen minutes. The nurses will be in to help you get dressed shortly,” he clears his throat as he lets the privacy curtain fall back into place. “And um… good luck.”

He leaves the room hurriedly, and you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs together and feeling the warmth that his cum leaves behind, feeling like your body is finally yours again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the nurses come in and help you get dressed, and when you walk out of the room, Yeri makes a pointed remark about how long she had to wait. You follow her without a word to the car, waiting as Driver Jung opens the door for her, then you.

All the while, a secret smile upon your lips as you feel the cum from earlier drip down your inner thigh.

[luv-leni]

Vampire!Cravity with a human s/o

Authors Note: Hey guys so listen the inspiration for this one hit me like a semi-truck. Which means this one is long(especially minhee’s) I mean like 2k words long. I’m very sorry 😭 please let me know if having this all be one reaction kills your eyes and I’ll edit it and split it into two separate posts.

Warnings: blood, dark themes, suggestive in minhee’s part if u squint, violence, death, and overall angst. There is fluff in here too I promise. This is all fiction!

Enjoy!!

Reaction under the cut.

Serim

A gentleman but a gentleman in a high position

He probably works for a big company

He wasn’t turned too long ago so his age isn’t a problem

He has literally no clue what he’s gonna do when his age does become a problem

Anyway this businessman is very friendly

He is charming and acts like he’s got nothing to hide

U meet him outside of his workplace maybe in a coffee shop

He’s dressed to the nines and super cute so u can’t help but stare at him

Of course he notices so he offers to pay for your drink

Correction he insists on paying for ur drink

This sparks a conversation, mainly about why he’s out in public in a three-piece suit

He talks about his work and meetings and stuff u aren’t really interested in

Before u can completely lose interest tho, his eyes capture ur attention

They almost look like they’re glowing

U interrupt him to ask about his eyes and he shifts uncomfortably and brushes it off

U being perceptive notice that maybe this well put together businessman isn’t all that he seems

He on the other hand thinks u are amazing for a human and he is attracted to u very quickly

look at you heart-stealer 😉

U two start dating for completely different reasons, u want to see the skeletons in his closet and he is falling helplessly in love with u

While snooping through his personality and life u find urself starting to fall for him too

Soon his secret won’t even matter to u

Serim is very good at keeping his secret so u aren’t going to find out unless he wants u to

So whether u find out about it or not is up to him

But he is a great boyfriend so u can’t complain

Allen

Ancient vamp

Allen would be the vampire who’s been around for like 400 years

When u meet he’s reluctant to be friendly with u

He’s old enough to have seen all the people he loves leave him

So he doesn’t want to get hurt :(

It would take some persistence from u but he’d eventually warm up to you

You’d fall in love with him and all his cool vampire features

His cold skin and glowing eyes

And he falls for u hard

He’s soft to u through the whole relationship because he doesn’t want u to think he’s dangerous

Even though out of all the boys Allen might be one of the more dangerous vampires

One thing is for sure he will protect u fiercely from anyone or anything

Jungmo

Jungmo lives as if he was still human

He’s been alive(well as alive as a vampire can get) for long enough to know what he’s doing but not long enough to lose his innocence

He still loves human activities

He exercises even though he doesn't need it and eats the foods he loves even though he doesn't need to eat

He goes to the park and plays with dogs

He meets u while playing fetch with a German shepherd

U just think he’s a normal guy who is very active

When u find out he’s a vampire u don’t really believe him

And then u see his fangs

He suddenly becomes much more intimidating

He does his best to reassure u he’s still the same guy u fell in love with he just drinks blood sometimes

now u get why he volunteers at the blood bank so much

Woobin

Sweet boy

Ruby blends into society very well as a vampire

He hangs out at coffee shops and bookstores he probably even works at one

U meet him there and he is an amazing gentleman

He doesn’t want u to know he’s a vampire because u are so cute and sweet and doesn’t want to scare u

he also doesn't want to confront the fact that he is going to live forever and u won't :(

But then u find bags of blood in his freezer

When u confront him about it he is so gentle and sweet that u really aren’t that freaked out

And he shows u his cool vamp powers and promises to never hurt u

A better love story than twilight

Wonjin

Flirt flirt flirt

He thinks if he’s gonna live forever he is gonna make it worth it

So he flirts with anybody and everybody

But when he meets u

He notices that u make him feel different than everybody else

Ur different, special

U make his undead heart race and he becomes addicted to u

He still flirts with u but he does it differently

He means everything he says about u

When u agree to date him he feels alive for the first time in a while

When u find out he’s a vamp the world gets 10x more exciting

U get a boyfriend who’s basically invincible and has cool powers

Jinnie is so relieved that u aren’t scared he wraps u in a big hug and picks u up with his vampire strength

A super exciting relationship with a very exciting boy

Minhee

Ooh mysterious~

Minhee is barely noticeable in everyday life

He rarely goes out during the day and works somewhere private so he doesn’t have to meet many people

When he does go out he blends into the shadows and is so sneaky that he could get away with almost anything if he wanted to

It’s lonely but he prefers it that way

He wouldn’t talk to u unless he absolutely had to

So maybe he works in a private office and u get hired as his assistant

He doesn’t want an assistant but being a big strong vampire doesn’t mean he can do everything by himself

Ur first day u notice how closed off and dark he is

But u are determined to be his friend

As time goes on minhee becomes intrigued by how determined u are (bonus points if ur good at being his assistant)

All the tension that has been building between u two comes to a head when u confront him in his office and ask him why he’s so cold to everyone

He gets this intimidating look in his eyes and says “people aren’t worth my time anymore” or something dramatic like that

You get upset because like?? Ur obviously worth his time 🙄

So to prove it u kiss him

He’s surprised but he wants it as much as u do so he doesn’t push u away

He thinks that maybe just maybe ur the one human he can let his guard down for

Then u guys make out on his desk

Hyeongjun

I think being a vampire would dull hyeongjun a bit

He used to be this cheerful happy boy but living forever can really take a toll

So he’s a little shyer and a little quieter as he moves through daily life

He never stays in one place too long because he doesn’t want anyone to suspect him

So he doesn’t have friends or partners for very long

Then he meets u

Ur kind and friendly and u remind him of who he used to be

So he immediately becomes ur friend

Something about u is different compared to the people he usually meets it’s like he’s drawn to u

Hyeongjun comes to trust u very quickly and ends up telling u his secret himself

U don’t believe him because vampires?? real?? uh huh sure.

Hyeongjun still has the same personality deep inside so he has to show off to u so he picks up ur couch with one hand to prove he’s telling the truth

Ur rightfully shocked and he is visibly nervous

He wants u to accept him so u think over all the good memories you’ve had with him while he stares at u with wide eyes

U love him so eventually u decide to accept him and keep his secret and he couldn’t be more grateful

U accepting him definitely bring out more of his cheerful personality

U two probably move away from the city into the countryside where no one can find u

It’s peaceful and beautiful and u get to spend the rest of ur life with the one u love

Taeyoung

That last one was so sad let’s move on to the cheerful stuff

Tae is a helpful boy!

He’s gonna live forever so he’s like ‘might as well make the world a better place since I’m gonna be here forever'

He volunteers literally everywhere

He does community service and works at nursing homes

The type to go around and pay for people’s parking meters in his free time

Like jungmo he volunteers at blood banks to get his blood because he doesn’t want to hurt anybody

He does all of this under fake names that he changes every once in a while so that way no one questions why somebody who should be like 90 looks 18

He meets u while helping out at an animal shelter

U come in looking for an animal to adopt

(If u don’t like animals then u come in looking for work)

Tae helps u out with the cutest smile on his face

He’s so cute that u ask him for his number

He agrees and everything goes smoothly for u two for a while

Once ur further in the relationship tho, tae’s secret starts to eat at him

He loves u and thinks u deserve to know the truth and he hates hiding things from u

So, like hyeongjun, he tells u his secret

He does it sweetly and holds ur hand so u don’t freak out

Accept this boy and his secret and he will treat u like a queen

He doesn’t like using his vampire powers but if it makes u happy then he will

He will keep u happy for the rest of ur life if u let him

Seongmin

My babysitters a vampire incarnate

He’s a baby vampire who got turned while in high school

He can’t really control himself so he stays away from people as best he can

U see him while in class and in the hallways and u think the poor boy is just shy

He doesn’t sit with anybody during class and eats lunch alone

U find him one day outside the school eating lunch and ask to sit with him

He hesitantly agrees and u notice how cute he is

U talk to him for a while and he isn’t very responsive or talkative so u ask him why he sits alone so much

Ur expecting usual answers like maybe he doesn’t have any friends maybe people make him nervous but no

He says that he has a secret 👀

Now ur interested so u ask him what it is

He says he's a vampire and ur like damn the cute boy is crazy this sucks :((

But then he offers to prove it so u say sure and he

Has fangs???

Those must be fake right??

U lean forward and touch them and prick ur finger on one

Nope they’re real and now ur bleeding 😃

Seongmin’s eyes go wide and he scoots away from u while u search ur bag for a bandaid

When the awkwardness subsides and seongmin stops looking at u like ur dinner, u start talking about this very unique situation

He tells u that he’s literally been starving since he was first turned and needs blood badly

And u just so happen to volunteer at a hospital

So u offer to get him blood if he promises to not eat u..he agrees obviously

And that marks the start of ur very strange high school relationship

Despite how strange he can be he truly loves u and takes care of u throughout school

U two are now inseparable

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Silent Treatment (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Naomi decides that if Ethan isn’t going to treat her like a valued member of the team, she’ll teach him a little lesson.

Based on chapter 1, some spoilers for chapter 2, and my own speculation, so read at your own risk.

I highkey hate this but I’m posting it anyway

~v~

Naomi is quiet. No, she is unusually quiet. Ethan has seen her get silent when it’s time to buckle down and focus on a task, or if something is weighing heavily on her, but at this point he knows her well enough to know it’s neither of those. She’s withdrawn, and he doesn’t understand why.

Her presence is hard to miss, the young resident has enough charm and charisma in her pinky finger to dazzle an entire room. And she’s never this quiet. Naomi demands to be heard at all times. With unapologetic vivacity. With her hands. Eyes sparkling when she gets an idea, or fiery when she needs to dig her toes into something and fight. Nothing about Naomi Valentine is ever subdued, so why the hell is she so silent?

She didn’t speak much during the last few team meetings. He and Harper have led all of the conversations, bouncing ideas back and forth, building off of each other’s ideas. Occasionally, Naomi would offer input, merely to agree or disagree with a theory, before going back into her shell.

It’s even bleeding into their personal life. For the better part of the past 3 months, she’s stayed with him, the two of them holed up in his apartment in the Back Bay, but now she’s opting to stay at her own place. It’s been going on a few days now, this random despondence, and Ethan isn’t a fan of it. He’d take it a step further and say it's driving him crazy. This isn’t the woman he’s known for the past two years, even at her lowest was she never this reclusive.

As he walks down the halls of Edenbrook, he spots Naomi, her personality back to what it once was. She’s with Ines at a vending machine, and Naomi wastes no time animatedly talking to the now attending about a fun date she went on with her girlfriend.

Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Ethan swallows thickly as he listens to her talk. He’s missed the sound of her voice, the affectionate way her strong accent curls around her ‘r’s’ and dramatically elongates her ‘o’s’. It becomes clear that she’s willing to talk, just not to him. Ethan doesn’t like that idea at all, but it’s the only one that makes sense. And if that’s the case, he needs to get to the bottom of things and remedy the situation.

“Naomi, can we talk please?” He asks once Ines is no longer in their presence.

He doesn’t miss the way she bristles upon hearing his voice. But Naomi nods anyway. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in the office?”

The walk back to the seventh floor is marked with awkward silence as Naomi refuses to initiate conversation with him. The more time ticks on, the more anxiety settles in Ethan’s chest. What’s going on with her that she refuses to divulge?

The office is unoccupied when they arrive, as Harper has already gone home for the evening. Naomi stands by the door, opting not to settle into a seat or even move further into the room. Everything about her body language reads that she’s poised and ready to strike at any given moment. He frowns. She’s never been this defensive against him, at least when they’re not in the middle of an argument. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?”

The question catches Naomi off guard. She blinks slowly before shrugging in nonchalance. “I’m fine, Ethan.”

“You’re fine? Really?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be fine?”

“Not really, but you haven’t been acting like yourself recently.”

Because you’ve been quieter than a church mouse for the past few days. You don’t talk during meetings, you’re silent when we interact with the patients, it’s like you’ve completely tuned out.”

With the way he’s been acting, Naomi is almost shocked that he even realized what she’s been doing. Wow, so maybe the great Ethan Ramsey hasn’t lost his attention to detail.

“Oh, so you’ve actually noticed?”

“I’m a diagnostician, I notice everything,” Ethan deadpans. He can feel the sarcasm wafting off of her. “What, was this an intentional act for my attention?”

“Intentional, yes. But for your attention? Not necessarily,” Naomi answers.

His eyes narrow at her, his gaze near piercing. She’s playing some sort of childish game with him, first with not speaking and now with the vague half answers. “Okay, so walk me through your thought process. Why has the cat stolen your tongue?”

“I decided that if my input wasn’t going to be valued during team discussions, I might as well not speak at all.”

Ethan gapes at her, confused. Where did that come from? “Naomi, what on earth are you talking about? When have I ever not valued your input?”

“I’m talking about the fact that for the past two cases, I’ve stood on the sidelines while you’ve either cut me off mid-sentence to talk over me, or ignore my presence altogether. I might as well blend into the wall.”

“That’s not–”

Naomi doesn’t give him the chance to refute.  “Please spare me the attempt at arguing. Last week, Harper’s first day on the team, you literally had to circle back to me because you cut me off while I was speaking. And now, we’re working on a case, and you and Harper aren’t even taking this patient seriously! I’ve had to redirect the conversation and tell you guys to focus, because you two were too busy acting like bosom buddies, sharing anecdotes about hangovers, and stupid flamenco lessons, and dates you went on in the past, which is not only inappropriate and disrespectful to the patient’s time, it’s disrespectful to me.”

“So either you are completely oblivious, which I find hard to believe for someone as astute as you are, or you have no respect for me, not just as your colleague, but as the woman you claim to be in a relationship with,” Naomi continues. The floodgates have been opened and now that she’s started, she can’t stop herself. “And maybe it’s the latter, because I set that standard. I’ve let you go days, weeks, months without speaking to me with zero consequence, I’ve let you shut me out and slam doors in my face, make snide comments last year when we were treating Leland, I’ve let you have carte blanche over the pace of this relationship. I’ve always just been here and allowed your shitty social graces and piss poor communication skills to rule, and time and time again, you’ve gone unscathed, but now I’m just really tired of it.”

For the first time in a long, Ethan doesn’t have a clue what to say, and as always, Naomi is the woman who puts him in this position.

“Naomi, you can’t possibly think that I think so little of you.”

He can tell by the way her eyes darken that he put his entire foot in his mouth just now. The warning bells go off in his brain, and he scrambles to think of how he can correct this latest blunder.

Naomi bites down on her lip, and she’s actually shocked her mouth isn’t instantly flooded with the metallic taste of blood. She’s getting Punk’d obviously. The office is bugged, and Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and announce his presence soon. That has to be it. Ethan has to be pranking her, because there’s no way a 38 year old man could ever be so dense, right? Surely his response to her grievances isn’t to dismiss her claims.

“You know what? You’re being obtuse, and we clearly aren’t getting anywhere, so I’m going to cut this conversation off now.”

She refuses to look like the psycho in this scenario and breathe any more life into this argument, and she’s not about to plead her case any further like she’s the one in the wrong.

Ethan’s eyes soften, and he takes a step forward, arms outstretched to touch, soothe whatever hurts he’s heaped upon her, but Naomi sidesteps, moving out of his reach.

If he wasn’t nervous at the start of this conversation, he is now. If the physical act of Naomi blatantly refusing to touch him wasn’t clear enough, the metaphorical chasm between the two of the just widened by a few yards as well. A chill races up and down the length of his spine.

“Naomi, I’m sorry,” Ethan says gently. “I…” His words taper off and he pauses, struggling for what he wants to say next. This has never been his strong point, being vulnerable.

And Naomi doesn’t offer him a lifeline. She’s not going to give him an out or assuage him of anything he’s currently feeling like she usually does. She’s laid out all of her cards, and things are in Ethan’s court at this point. Like always. 

“I’m going home,” she announces. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~v~

The sun is barely out when Naomi shows up for work in the morning. Most of the hospital is still, the last of the night shift heading out as she’s on her way in. She heads towards the residents’ lounge, wanting to put her things away before checking in on her patients and having a team meeting.

As soon as she opens her locker, she spots a gorgeous bouquet of red roses wrapped in newspaper invading the space. There’s no note attached to the bouquet, and she spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else is there. The lounge is empty, save for another resident in the corner, sleeping.

Naomi takes the bouquet out of her locker, careful not to smash the petals and holds it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. 

Deciding to not put more thought into where they came from, Naomi simply cradles the bouquet in the crook of one of her arms, stuffs her bag into her locker, and continues on with her morning routine.

She’s passing by the nurses’ station on the 7th floor when someone catches her attention. “Oh Dr. Valentine! You have a special delivery.”

Her steps slow down as she approaches the front desk where Sarah, one of her favorite RNs is stationed. Sarah steps aside, revealing an even larger bouquet of roses, these ones white.

“Where did these come from?” Naomi asks.

“They were delivered about half an hour ago,” Sarah replies with a wink. “No note, though. I won’t let Dr. Ramsey know that you have a secret admirer.”

And that’s when it clicks into place. Memories of her fight with Ethan come flooding back, and it becomes clear that he’s the one gifting her these flowers. Before she even realizes she’s doing it, her eyes roll. If he thinks a couple of bouquets of roses are a good enough apology, he can think again.

Naomi plucks a white rose right from the center of the bouquet and hands it to Sarah. “For you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“I insist,” Naomi says. “Happy Friday, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Valentine!”

Seeing the smile on the senior nurse’s face is almost enough to cleanse Naomi of the annoyance she feels towards Ethan in this moment. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Naomi manages to scoop up this new batch of flowers – they’re in a vase, to which she adds her red ones – and finishes her trek to the office.

She isn’t expecting it to be covered in bunches of bright yellow sunflowers.

Their communal desk is covered in them, along with Ethan’s personal desk and the couch. “What on earth was he thinking?”

“I was thinking that sunflowers are your favorite flower,” Ethan answers, and Naomi jumps, startled at his voice. She whips around and sees him standing in the doorway. “And so I got up well before the sun was shining, went to the Boston Flower Exchange and bought every single one I could get my hands on.”

“And the roses?”

“White is supposed to be symbolic of new beginnings and forgiveness,” Ethan explains. “And you simply can’t go wrong with red.”

“If you think buying me flowers is going to cut it, you must not know me well,” Naomi says. Him buying her things doesn’t impress her, no matter how much she jokes about his money.

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Ethan takes a cautious step into the room, shutting the door behind him. A sleepless night without her beside him forced Ethan to do a lot of thinking about how he wanted this conversation to go. A peace offering is always a good start. “And it got you to talk to me.”

Naomi scoffs and sets her flowers down. “Barely.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says. “I’m an idiot, and an asshole.”

“It’s good that we can agree on something.”

Okay, it’s clear that she is not going to give him any leeway. “You were absolutely right to call me out on my behavior towards you.”

“Why did you do it?” Naomi asks.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Ethan says simply. “I got so caught up in having Harper on the team, and it’s easy to slip back into old habits without even realizing.”

“It wasn’t a simple one time thing. It was more than once that you and Harper completely forgot I was even there. And I like Harper, I don’t think I could respect her more than I already do, and I have a very healthy sense of self esteem, but even the toughest person on earth wouldn’t like being in my shoes, on the outside looking in while you and your ex reminisce on old dates and inside stories. Ethan, you couldn’t handle a modicum of the shit I have willingly put up with in order to be with you.”

His stomach knots up at the thought of an ex-boyfriend of Naomi’s coming into his personal space, sharing personal jokes with her, ignoring him, and monopolizing her time. If the thought of it had him this twisted, he can’t believe he’s been putting her through that reality.

“You were right to call me out on my bad communication skills. I am terrible at relationships. I’m not using it as an excuse, it’s just the truth. But I’ve gotten complacent, which is unacceptable.” Ethan takes another step towards Naomi, and when she doesn’t instantly recoil, he takes it as a sign to get even closer. “The last thing I ever want to do is stifle your voice, or make you feel invisible. Naomi, you are...invaluable. To this hospital, to this team, to me, and I am so sorry that there was ever a time where I made you feel like you weren’t. You are the most important person in my life, and what we have is something I’ve never had with anyone else.”

“Okay, so start acting like it,” Naomi challenges. “I’m your equal and I demand every bit of respect you have to offer. Anything less than that cannot be tolerated anymore, personally or professionally.”

Ethan nods emphatically at her words. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“You have my word, Naomi. I’ll never let it happen again.” He closes the gap between them and cups her face in his hand. “Just please...never give me the silent treatment again. Yell from the rooftops, argue with me, I don’t care, but I can’t take not hearing your voice.”

“You needed to be taught a lesson,” Naomi says simply.

“I learned my lesson, and I hated it,” Ethan confesses, his lips dangerously close to hers. Naomi doesn’t budge, not even an inch. She’s terribly stubborn, even at the end of a fight. “It was torture.”

“Good.” Deciding to put him out of his misery, Naomi tilts her head up and captures Ethan in a kiss. He doesn’t waste a single second returning it. His free hand wraps around the small of her back, pulling her in closer. How did he go this long without touching her?

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, but he finally breaks apart from her long enough to bury his face in her neck, allowing her scent and soft skin to soothe any of his fraught nerves. She smells like home.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Ethan asks.

“The jury is still out on that one.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Are you up for the challenge?”

Ethan untangles himself from their embrace and takes a step back, so he’s able to look Naomi in the eyes. He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss into her palm. “For you? I’ll do just about anything.”

~v~

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[walks-the-ages]

Imagine if the Rosa Parks episode had been an episode number that showed it's significance instead of just being ~episode 3~

Imagine if instead of being teleported to space, they all get teleported to 1955 America and the Fam gets to deal with the shock of "the past is a foreign country" when they do not have the TARDIS readily available and they have to actually *care* about the danger that Yaz and more Specifically Ryan is in.

With no idea where the TARDIS is as a conventient "we can leave at any time", they can't just shrug off the racism around them as a joke, and actually have to work to blend in, find a place to stay without antagonizing the locals, and instead of Rosa Parks herself swooping in to rescue Ryan from the white supremacist, a random "nobody special" activist who is walking by sees the confrontation and comes over to help, dragging the obviously out-of-towner Fam away before the situation can escalate.

Nobody Special ends up bringing them home to give them a place to stay the night, so the Doctor and Graham don't get Ryan and Yaz killed by smuggling them into a whites only hotel, especially since the police are now going to be looking for any excuse they can to get their hands on Ryan.

The Fam gets a look behind the curtain at the average life of a black family in the American 1950s. This is also a key starting point for Ryan's character journey because *he actually has one now*.

Instead of being starry-eyed by Big Names like Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks on his first interaction with black activists of this time period, Ryan gets to see just how many "nameless" faces are behind the civil rights movement, and instead of thinking this is an impossible thing that only Important People can achieve, Ryan gets to see how the average everyday person can help the movement and change history.

The plot of the episode is not about manipulating Rosa Parks into being "too tired" to give up her seat, and instead actually reflects history that it was a *planned protest*. Ryan eventually meets Rosa Parks when Nobody Special invites him along to one of their youth leadership meetings, and instead of being one of the Mastermind Manipulations forcing Rosa Parks to the point of exhaustion so she's "too tired" to give up her seat..... Ryan gets to see the Behind The Scenes planning that went into the protest, gets to hear about how 15 year old Claudette Colvin inspired the local activists to stage their own sit in with Rosa Parks as their public figurehead, and all the prep and planning that went into the famous arrest-- if the buses don't run tonight, theyll pick another date; bad luck on December 1st isn't going to stop the protest from happening because it's a protest not a random decicision forced on Rosa Parks by manipulative white people.

Eventually, the Doctor tracks down the TARDIS and discovers it was drawn to this location during it's Emergency Dematerialization by the new Villain of the Week who is.... literally just anyone that's not Krasko.

But anyways. "Rosa" should have been either episode 2 as our characters first real step into the Whoniverse, OR it should have been much closer to the end of the season, or even a season finale. Give it actual importance and an actual message outside of a weak and generic "racism is bad" -- especially because it should actually reflect the characters previous Establishing Actions, such as Yaz literally accusing Ryan of illegally dumping stuff in the woods when she knows full well that *he's the one who called the police in the first place*, but oh, in canon Ryan is lamenting he gets stopped by police more than his white friends and her response is "uh, not this police officer, I'm one of the good ones" like no sorry Yaz, you've already proven you're not.

[drabbles-mc]

You Came Back (1/3)

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera​: Juice has a special place in my heart, so I'm denying his ending on the show😭 I want to foccus on the nurturing,fluffy and romantic side that he deserves😍 maybe something about Opie and Jax childhood friend who comes back to charming( Gemma always thought of her as her own kid) and she's really closed of emotionaly, bit our boy is smitten from the second he has his eyes on her. so romantic Juice overdrive, and she starts to see this side of life that's worth, by his side

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapter Index: Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: Okay so I maaaay have gotten a little carried away with this request (hence it being three parts lmao) but I just felt like to do it right I had to make it longer than a one-shot. Hope you don’t mind! My love for Juice knows no bounds so it’s easy for me to get a little over zealous lol

You rolled into the lot at T-M, turning the radio down as you did. Everything looked pretty much exactly the same as when you left all those years back. You wondered if any of the guys ever actually got out of Charming, or if they all fell into the routine and stayed. You shook your head at yourself, knowing that you weren’t really any different—all those years you spent out of Charming and somehow you ended up right back in it. Maybe you just weren’t meant to stay away.

You parked and took a deep breath, trying to give yourself the will to step out of the vehicle. You looked around the lot, seeing all the bikes lined up together made your heart speed up. You glanced over to the shop itself, not seeing any familiar faces at first. You sighed, finally making yourself cut the ignition and get out of the car.

The walk to the office felt like it was a mile long. The door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering. You heard an unmistakable voice on the other side, “Come in.”

You stepped inside, waiting for Gemma to look up from the papers in front of her. Her eyes flicked up, expecting to see someone else, anyone else, but there you were. It took a second for it all to register, but as soon as it did a smile broke out across her face. She stood up and walked around the desk, wrapping you in a hug.

“Well, well,” she laughed, stepping back so she could get a good look at you, “Didn’t expect to see you rolling in here any time soon.”

You laughed, shaking your head slightly, “Yea, me neither I guess.”

“What brings you here, sweetheart?” she could see the stress on your face.

You sighed, “Don’t really know. I had to go somewhere, and I ended up here.”

She smiled, nodding, “All my kids always make it back home,” she saw you open your mouth to argue and held her hand up to stop you, “Blood isn’t what makes someone my kid. If I ever fed you in my house, you’re my kid.”

You smiled and nodded, glad to be surrounded by the familiarity of it all. You thought that it would’ve changed over the years but you supposed that you should’ve known better. Charming, and all the people in it, seemed untouched by time. You had no idea if you were going to be able to blend back into it after being away for so long.

“That mean that Jax is around here somewhere too?”

Gemma smiled and nodded, “Clubhouse. I’m sure they’ll be excited to see you. C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”

The two of you walked side-by-side in silence. You knew that Gemma had questions, but you knew that she would wait until the excitement died down to pull you aside to ask you them. Today was just about finding everyone else again. Down the road you’d get around to finding yourself again, too.

Gemma swung open the door to the clubhouse, “Look who I found, wandering around the lot.”

Jax and Opie were both seated at the bar, smiles breaking out across their faces the second they saw you. They both stood up and came over to greet you, and you reveled in the warmth of their hugs.

“Holy shit,” Jax chuckled and shook his head, “Never thought I’d be seeing you again.”

“That seems to be the trend,” you said with a nervous smile.

Opie draped his arm around your shoulder, completely enveloping you as he pulled you against his chest again, “Welcome home.”

You laughed into his kutte, “What a welcome it is.”

You recognized some of the other faces in the clubhouse. Truthfully you weren’t ever overly close with the guys in the club. You were all nice to each other, but growing up with Jax and Opie you made a conscious decision to stay just far enough out of club drama and business to keep yourself safe. They were your best friends and you loved them, but you made a point to not know too much. Plausible deniability was key.

“Come, sit,” Jax flashed a smile, “have a beer.”

“You sure?”

He chuckled, “Yea. We ain’t got shit to do.”

Opie smiled at you, “Besides, how long has it been? Seven years? Eight?”

“Nine,” you said as you pulled away.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax said with a shake of his head, “Where does the time go?”

The three of you were sat at the bar, catching up on the broad strokes of what your lives had been like since the last time you were all in a room together. You always said that you were going to keep in touch with them when you left, but it never happened. You could blame it on a lot of different things, but deep down you knew that if you kept in touch you wouldn’t have stayed away. Charming was like a magnet and there was no denying its pull if you ever got too close.

“I do see some new faces though, right?” you laugh, “Some of these guys definitely weren’t here before.”

Jax chuckled, nodding, “You’re right. Got some new brothers hanging around. This is Half-Sack,” he nodded towards the young man who was behind the bar, trying and failing at not being obvious about staring at you, “He’s our latest Prospect.”

“N-nice to meet you, Y/N,” he nodded quickly as he went back to whatever he had been doing behind the bar beforehand.

You smiled and shook your head as you took another look around the clubhouse, “Who else is new?” you paused, chuckling to yourself, “Who else is new and actually matters?”

Opie chimed in, nodding to the far side of the clubhouse, “Only other new kid in the club is Juice.”

“Not hiring very many people these days, huh?” you chuckled, nudging Opie’s shoulder, “They stop bringing in new talent after you patched in?”

“Who else would they need?” his smile made your heart melt.

“Ope, Jax,” Clay came bursting into the clubhouse, “Church, now.”

“We’ll pick this up later,” Jax kissed you on the cheek, “It’s good to have you home.”

Opie pulled you into a half-assed headlock, kissing the top of your head before trailing behind Jax and following him into the chapel of the clubhouse. You watched in silent awe as the other men filtered into the room, shutting the doors behind them.

You turned and looked at the prospect, “You’re gonna miss roll call.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I don’t go in there unless explicitly instructed.”

“What’s your name?” you sipped on your beer while you waited for his response.

“It’s Kipp,” he only met your eyes for a second.

“Mind if I call you that instead of Half-Sack?” you chuckled.

His cheeks flushed slightly, “You can call me whatever you want.”

You laughed and shook your head but didn’t make any other comment about it. He seemed sweet, and you thought to yourself that maybe you didn’t give the other guys in the club enough of a chance. Maybe you kept a little too much distance from everyone. Maybe if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have had to leave to end up right back where you started, you just would’ve stayed.

When the chapel doors opened up again, the men started trickling out one by one. You didn’t see Jax, Opie, or Clay come back out right away though. You didn’t have much of anywhere else to be, so you stayed put to wait. The prospect brought you another beer when he saw that you weren’t going anywhere.

You were looking down at your phone when someone popped up and sat down on the stool next to yours. It took you a moment to look up and see who it was. You were greeted with a warm smile as the man next to you gave you a once-over.

“I’m Juice,” he nodded with a grin.

You smiled, holding out your hand, “Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “You haven’t. I’m an…old friend of Jax and Opie. I haven’t been around in a while. Just got back to Charming.”

“Welcome back.”

You smiled, “Thanks. You’re new, too, yea? You weren’t here when I left.”

He chuckled, “New seems like a strong word.”

The two of you sat and made small talk for a few minutes. There was a warmth that radiated from his smile that made you feel like you’d known him your whole life. You wondered if maybe the club was turning over a new leaf. The newest members seemed like they were cut from a different cloth and it was reassuring to you.

Jax appeared behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders, “This guy givin’ you a problem, Y/N?” you could hear the smile in his voice.

You shook your head, “Not at all. Just helping me kill time until you two jokers got out of your little meeting with Clay.”

“How long you in town for?” Jax asked.

You shrugged, “Until further notice?” you tried to play it off with a smile, not wanting to talk about how you had ended up back in Charming, “Why? That desperate to get rid of me already?”

He hugged you back against his chest, almost pulling you off the stool, “Nah, never. Where you staying?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against him, “Haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“You can stay with me until you figure it out,” he offered up, “Beats paying for a motel.”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “Of course. Not giving you any more reasons to skip town on us again,” he held his hand out to help you off the stool, “C’mon, you can follow me and we can get you settled in.”

You let him help you, relieved that you had a place to stay, and that it was with someone that you trusted, “Thank you, Jax. I owe you one,” you turned back to Juice, “Nice meeting you.”

“Yea,” there was a small smirk on his face, “you too,” he watched you and Jax walk out of the clubhouse, laughing together as the door shut behind you. He turned to Opie, “Who is she?”

He shook his head with a knowing smile, clapping Juice on the back, “She’s out of your league, brother.”

Juice laughed at the remark, but wasn’t able to take his eyes away from the door that you had just walked out of. He might not have known you yet, but he was hoping that that wouldn’t be the case for long. You felt like a breath of fresh air. He drummed his fingertips on the surface of the bar, the wheels in his mind beginning to turn.

It took a few days to get comfortable staying in Jax’s house. He was more than accommodating, but you were still struggling with being back in Charming. Any time he tried to pry a little more into what your life had been like once you left, and what it was that made you decide to come back, you clammed up. You weren’t good enough at lying to try, especially not with someone who knew you as well as Jax did. He eventually backed off when he realized that he was just going to have to wait for you to be comfortable talking about it in your own time. But you still felt like there were a few degrees of separation between the two of you.

“Plans today?” he asked as he sat across from you at the table, taking a sip of his coffee.

You sighed and shook your head, “Not really. Still waiting to hear back from a couple of the places I sent applications out to.”

“If you need something in the meantime, I’m sure we could find a spot for you at T-M.”

You shook your head, not wanting to accept charity, or pity, “No, you don’t have to do that. You guys have a full house there as it is.”

He smiled, “Nah, my mom could always use the help. She says it all the time.”

You chuckled, “Needing you guys to do your jobs and needing extra help aren’t the same thing.”

He laughed, “See? You two’ll work well together. Why don’t you come with me today and you can talk to her?”

“And say what? Just walk in and say, I’m poor, please give me a job?”

“Isn’t that what all job interviews are like?”

You laughed, not able to disagree, “I mean, I guess, yea,” you sighed, “Alright, fine. But I’m not talking to her alone.”

“You don’t need backup, Y/N.”

“Listen, I know your mom likes me, but she’s still one of the scariest fucking people I’ve ever met. So, you’re talking to her with me.”

He caved, the way you knew that he would. You followed him to the shop in your car, him on his bike. You laughed at the way he would speed ahead of you and force you to play catch-up. It felt like you were teenagers again and for a few minutes your heart felt lighter.

When the two of you rolled into the lot, things seemed quiet. The guys were working in the shop, and you looked around trying to picture potentially being here all day every day. You had no idea what that would be like, what you would even really do.

“Hey, baby,” Gemma walked up and hugged Jax, kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, Mom,” he turned to you, “Y/N had something that she wanted to talk to you about.”

You pressed your lips together into a thin line—you should’ve known that he was going to hang you out to dry on this. He gave you a pat on the back and took off towards the clubhouse, leaving you and Gemma there outside the office together.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she looked at you expectantly.

You sighed, hating that you were about to ask her about this, “Um, so…I’ve just been struggling to pick up a job on short-notice. Jax mentioned that maybe there would be a spot for me here? Just something short-term. I’m not trying to take advantage or anything—if there’s nothing you really need me for here that’s totally fine.”

She smiled, “There’s always something to be done around here,” she gently placed her hand on your arm, “We take care of our own. When can you start?”

You smiled with a shrug, “Now?”

Gemma chuckled, “Perfect. Juice needs an extra pair of hands on a repo run. You okay with that?”

You nodded, “Yea, sure. Will he tell me what I have to do? Because I have no idea,” you laughed.

She smiled with a slight nod, “You’ll be fine,” she waved Juice over, “Juice, c’mere!”

He jogged over, a smile plastered on his face as he looked at you, “What’s up?”

Gemma gestured towards you, “Y/N is working for us for a while. She’s going on the repo run with you today, that alright?”

He nodded immediately, “Yea, of course,” he looked at you with bright eyes, “Good to see you again.”

You smiled, nodding, “You too.”

You could practically feel him vibrating with excitement in the driver’s seat beside you as he drove. You tried to hide the smile that was fighting its way onto your face. You asked him what he even needed you to do when the two of you worked together. He outlined it all to you and it seemed fairly simple. You had to imagine that it wasn’t the most fun part of the job, but it was still something to keep the both of you busy for a little while.

On top of the repo, Gemma had called and asked the two of you to stop and pick up a few parts that she had ordered for the shop. You waited outside with the truck while Juice went inside to pick them up. He walked back out carrying two large boxes stacked on top of each other.

“Can you get the door?” he asked, voice slightly strained.

You chuckled, “I kinda wanted to see you try to pull it off by yourself.”

The two of you were halfway into your drive back to T-M when Juice spoke up, “Can I ask you something?”

You looked over at him, “Shoot.”

“Are you and Jax…you know…”

You laughed, “Dating?”

He shrugged, “Yea.”

You shook your head, unable to stop laughing, “No, no we are not. We’re just good friends. I love him but, yea, no,” you searched his face for a reaction, “Why?”

He tried to play it off, “No reason, just curious. You guys just seem close, is all.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled and went back to looking out the window, “If you say so.”

[ladydarklord]

The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

[magical-girl-coral]

 Birthday Surprises

Nanao Ise has found a new low for herself. It was eight in the morning, the sun was barely rising, and she was already on her fourth cup of Sake. And from how she was feeling, she wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

It all started when she and her friends decided to do something nice for Rangiku. For the last few months, she had been oddly active, taking fewer naps at the office, doing her paperwork, drinking less in the afternoon, and actually showing up to lieutenants' meetings on time. So as a small reward, all her female coworkers thought of giving her a small birthday surprise, showing up at her door with booze and persimmon sweets for a good morning gift. Since almost everyone takes a day off on their birthday, they wouldn't have to worry about her being somewhere else. Nanao took the lead since it was her idea and opened the bedroom to wake Rangiku up.

And there were no words that could describe her shock when she saw her best friend with a bedmate. Nanao was just thankful her instincts shut the door before anyone else could peek in.

Now she, along with the rest of the Shinigami Women's Association, drank in one of their many secret hiding spots (thanks to president Yachiru) as they took in the new information. 

Rukia looked at Nanao worriedly. "Ise-san, don't you think you should slow down a bit?"

Kiyone grimaced. "I don't think she's drinking enough. I would have drunk myself under the table by now if I were in her place. Just thinking about finding Isane like that gives me chills."

"I still can't get over how she had a secret boyfriend and didn't tell us," Momo said before Nanao could correct Kiyone's assumption for her "sisterly" feelings towards Rangiku, “She almost never keeps secrets like this. Sometimes she tells us too much!”

Soi Fon poured Nanao and herself another cup. "And are you sure you didn't see his face?"

Nanao dropped her face on the table. "No," she mumbled out, "I could only see the back of his head." Although the silver hair, the scar across the chest, and the fucking missing right arm were enough to tell who he was.

Oh, gods, she was starting to curse now mentally. She should stop before the words begin to come out.

Isane smiled awkwardly at the scene. "Well, at least now we know why she's been in such a good mood lately. Remember when she turned down lunch break drinking with captain Kyoraku, and we all thought she was dying?"

Retsu smiled at that. "I remember that. You tied her up and sent her to me directly to get an emergency check. Even I was too scared of the possibilities to turn down the request. Rangiku was fairly upset with all of us."

"....I've just realized something," Nemu said suddenly, "it's impossible for her mystery bedfellow to be one of the seated officers, lieutenants, or captains."

Nanao raised her head from the table. "What do you mean?"

"Rangiku has a lieutenant-level spiritual power that has only grown stronger since she has taken her Shikai training more seriously," Nemu explained, "only people around her levels can be detected while standing in her presence. Since Rangiku's spiritual mass would cloak anyone weaker, none of us could sense his presence, which means whoever she is with has to be weaker than her."

Nanao's eyebrows went up to her hairline. His restrictions. They must have hidden his spiritual powers. Nanao thanked the gods and swallowed the irony of Nemu's last sentence.

"Now that is a big relief," Soin Fon said, "Can you imagine how awkward it would be if she dated someone we all knew?"

"Oh, yeah, I haven't thought about that," Momo said to herself, "With how intermingled everyone already is, adding a romantic relationship to the mix would be more than messy, especially since most of us are still getting used to how everything's changed."

Nanao's heart fell to her stomach as everyone agreed.

"I feel a bit proud now, even more so than I have before," Retsu said as she put a hand over her heart, and it was at that moment that Nanao had forsaken the cup and went straight to the bottle.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

Three hours and two bottles later, Nanao found herself in front of Rangiku's apartment. While she did declare she was ready to go home to take a last-minute day off, she found herself in front of Rangiku's door instead. This is why one shouldn't drink and Shunpo.

After knocking on her door on a lost rhyme, Rangiku opened her door with a surprised expression. "Nanao-chan, What are you doing here? And why do you smell like your captain?"

Nanao swayed as she answered with her own question. "Can he extend his penis like his sword?"

Rangiku openly gaped at her. "What?"

"You know, he says shoot to kill, and it gets longer." Nanao wished she could shut her mouth, but the words kept flowing out. "Or do his restrictions stop that from happening? No, wait, does his hollowfication do something during sex? Like, can it transform his di-"

Rangiku slapped her palm over Nanao's mouth, to which Nanao was grateful. "Okay, since you're obviously hammered and won't listen to common sense, how about I'll pour you a glass of water, some tea, and we'll continue this conversation inside where my neighbors can't hear you."

Nanao nodded her head in agreement, and Rangiku released her mouth. She quickly pulled them both inside and sat Nanao down before going to the kitchen to prepare the aforementioned tea.

Rangiku sat a teacup in front of Nanao and took a deep breath. "So, why have you been drinking with Nemu at eleven in the morning?"

Nanao shrunk in her seat. It didn’t feel great to be on the other side of the table. “Because I found you and captain Ichimaru in bed together. We wanted to surprise you because it’s your birthday and I panicked, but no one else has seen his face!” She added the last part quickly after noticing her ever-paling face. "Wait, how did you know I drank with Nemu?"

"I learned the hard way not to get her too drunk, or I start asking the same things from her influence." Rangiku chuckled softly to herself. "Your next question?"

"How long have you two been together?"

Rangiku put her finger on her chin in thought. "We got togther around the last winter festival, so about nine months."

Now it was Nanao's turn to gape. "Nine months?! You've been in a secret relationship for nine months, and you didn't tell me?! I thought you trusted me in these kinds of things! What changed?"

"No, no, I still do, I swear!" Rangiku assured as she rose her hands in defense. "I wanted to tell you, I really did. It was just... well..." Rangiku sighed deeply and sat back in her chair. "Do you remember when Gin first came back, people broke into the third's barracks and graffitied their offices?"

"Yes, I remember. It was painful watching Kira go through that-" Nanao's eyes widened in realization. "Oh."

"Yeah," Rangiku said as she rubbed her neck, "It took forever for things to settle down. Just yesterday, Gin mentioned how relieved he was that no one harassed his men in six months. So when we first got together, he wanted to keep it a secret so-"

"So that none of those poor excuses of breathing beings would start troubling you," Nanao finished the sentence for her.

Rangiku let out a small laugh. "You know, Gin called them something similar, except a lot more vulgar."

"Trust me, the only reason I haven't said anything worse is because your tea is magic, and it's sobering me up quickly." Nanao took another sip and rubbed her forehead. A hangover is coming already; she could feel it.

Rangiku's eyes shone brightly. "I know, right? It took me forever to come up with this special blend. It cures me right away! And don't forget to drink your water; the tea itself isn't enough. You also need some actual hydration."

Nanao drank the water, and her headache went away. She honestly wanted to get this straight to the Twelve Division to be analyzed, but her phone buzzed before she could joke about that. "It looks like president Kusajishi wants us to have an emergency meeting at Kuchiki manor."

"Awww," Rangiku complained loudly, "but it's my day off."

"We might as well get there just to get it over with." Nanao stood up and went to pull on Rangiku's arm. "It's probably about her spending all of our fundings on another failed pool."

Rangiku let out one last grumble as she was pulled to her feet. Unfortunately, they had to walk there, with Nanao still slightly drunk and Rangiku being sleepy from her constant napping. By the time they got there, it was one in the afternoon. Though, they would have arrived sooner if it wasn’t for an unplanned coffee stop.

Nanao and Rangiku both sensed more people than there should be. Thinking it was a trap or a cruel prank, they drew out their swords just in case. What they didn't expect was confetti, most of the high-ranked Shinigami, and a large banner in the middle of the room that said "Happy Birthday, Rangiku!".

All the attendants in the room wished Rangiku happy birthday in one giant shout as captain Ichimaru blew a party horn. Nanao turned her head towards Rangiku with an open mouth. "I did not know this was planned."

"Trust me, I believe you," Rangiku said before letting out a big laugh and walking up to hug her friends. "How were you able to pull this off at the last minute? And with Byakuya's approval to use one of his party rooms?"

"I used the "you tried to kill me for an entire week" card, and he gave it to us without issues," Rukia explained with a shrug, but Nanao knew what this meant. She only used this card during very dire situations, and coming up with a last-minute birthday surprise fit that criteria. And Rangiku seemed to notice this too with how she was trying to suffocate Rukia in a boob bear hug.

Gin stood next to the Rangiku. "Is this surprise party a hit?"

Rangiku nodded her head tearfully.

"Cool, I'm gonna go lurk in the shadows now. See ya."

Gin gave one last peace before disappearing into thin air. Rangiku released Rukia with an angry "don't you dare" and ran after him, only to come back empty-handed with a huff. However, her frown soon changed to a giddy smile when people started to hand her alcohol.

Nanao felt herself relax when the music began to play. People were talking, some were laughing, others were eating, and there was a large stack of gifts in one of the corners of the room. Maybe this day can end on a sober high note after all-.

Her phone buzzed. 

Unknown number : If you wanted to know how long I was, you could've just ask ;)

Nanao threw her phone at the wall and went straight to the punch bowl.

[that-good-trash]

Burn Away With Me 3

Shoto Todoroki x reader / Dabi x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, profanity, kidnap, murder, Angst

Word count: 10K

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Kidnap and murder usually go hand in hand but not like this. The world thinks your dead and you have to watch them mourn you like a princess locked away in a tower. Except princes don’t look for dead girls. You might just have to rely on the villain who took you.   

Comment: Holy Shit, I am so sorry this took so long and that I haven’t been posting anything new. School just started again and I am a full time student and employee. I have a few other fics in progress and there will be a part four to this fic, which will be the conclusion. Thank you all for sticking around still and just bear with me. This chapter is long and I hope there aren’t to many errors with grammar or spelling. I hope you enjoy and please look forward to my next fics which I hope to post this week. 

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Endeavor was a clever man with years of getting what he wanted tucked under his belt. He wasn’t intimidated by his son. He thought of his son as a tool not a human being with feelings and emotions that mattered. He had tried to be that guy and failed. His wife wanted nothing to do with him and neither did his oldest son. He showed them that he could change and yet they didn’t forgive him so what was the point of changing. He reverted back to the piece of shit he was so good at being. If he couldn’t be Number 1 and a ‘good’ dad then fine. A hero it is, despite the fact that he wasn’t a good hero either. Just a narcissistic asshole who beats people down with no remorse and would do anything to get what he wanted. Even kill you, even kill his own son. You and Dabi had ‘murdered by Endeavor’ on your personal resumes.

Now Shoto was standing his ground against the man who continues to take the things he loves. His flames dance around his body waiting to be released like hell hounds against his father. The ice cracks when Endeavor lifts his foot. He seems amused, like this is all a game. He wants Shoto to fall apart because it’s easier to control him when he isn’t all there. Shoto won’t let that happen, not when he needed to get revenge, if not for you then himself.

“TALK YOU BASTARD!” Shoto Todoroki was anything but a loud man. He wasn’t overly confrontational so this was a big change in his personality. Endeavor quirked a brow before his booming laugh pushed against the walls of his office. He steps forward knowing that his son will respond defensively. Ice shards jut forward almost striking the flame bearded man. He laughs before grabbing the overgrown frozen stalagmites melting them in seconds. His ice was strong but fire was still fire and couldn’t be overcome by a chill. His own fire pushed against Shoto’s as he approached. Shoto stood his ground, his hair had risen slightly dancing with his flames that were now reflecting in his eyes. His father glowers down at him neither of them willing to end this in a civil manner.

“I didn’t kill her but I am glad she is gone. You will mourn and hurt for now but in time she will be nothing but a painful memory. You can’t waste your time chasing rumors, trying to kill me. If you believe ever rumor out there then you would have to believe that you killed her or that she is actually alive. See how foolish those ideas are. You are just ruining your youth and if you kill me then you will spend the rest of your life behind bars. Would it be worth it Shoto?” He knows what to say to hurt his son. How could he forget about you? He couldn’t forget even if you wanted too. You were the better half of his life. You weren’t sunshine on a stormy day; no, you took him out in the rain and made him dance with you in it. He learned to love and be loved when you came into his life. Walking away now, giving up, was not a choice. He didn’t care about prison bars or the death sentence.

“Killing you, regardless of circumstance, would be worth everything.�� The flames burned against each other as Shoto lifted his hand toward his fathers’ face. The flames disappeared at the sound of knocking on the door. Both men, despite having stopped their quirks, still looked at each other with intention to kill. “Come it.”

Midoriya opened the office door flinching slightly due to how hot the knob was. He walked into the room feeling the drastic change in temperature. The hallway was cool but the closer he got to Endeavors office the warmer it was. This however was extreme; he could feel the air stick to him from the increased humidity. He gripped his shirt pulling it in and outward trying to get a cool breeze.  Shoto never looked away from his father even when he heard Midoriya clear his throat.

“Um, what’s going on in here.” The green haired boy lifted his foot, his shoes were damp from the puddles accumulating from Shoto’s ice. The walls had a heavy amount of condensation and it seemed like there were char marks on the flooring and parts of the ceiling. Midoriya knew whatever answer he was about to receive it wasn’t going to be the truth. “Pro Hero Deku, you have stumbled across a misunderstanding. My son is just emotional over his girlfriend’s de-”

“Fiancé. She wasn’t just my girlfriend, we were engaged. I was going to marry her and that’s not going to happen because you ki-”

“Because she was murdered by someone whose still out there. You should be hunting that person down instead of harassing me. Deku, if you wouldn’t mind this is over and I have other things to attend to.” Shoto was seething with hatred that scared even Midoriya who never got to see the boy like this. Endeavor turned away from the boys knowing that Shoto wouldn’t attack with Midoriya there. Shoto clenched his fist before turning and storming out of the room. He didn’t blame Midoriya for this interruption but he was upset by it. The rushed footsteps of Midoriya could be heard chasing down the revenge obsessed male.

“What the heck was that?” Midoriya had been trying to get ahold of Shoto, not for business but as a friend. He knew that Shoto was taking your death hard and everyone was worried about his reclusive distant behavior. Hell, even Bakugou was ‘worried’ about your fiancé. “Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t involve you.”

Shoto doesn’t get to take another step as Midoriya grabs him yanking his shoulder around to face him. Midoriya stared at Shoto with a look that he had seen to many times in his life. He had seen this concerned determined face all those years ago at the festival and has continued to see it every time something concerning happens that Shoto doesn’t cope well with.

“Don’t worry about it? How can I not worry when my best friend isn’t answering anyone’s calls? Doesn’t involve me! I don’t know what you were doing or talking about with your dad and maybe that doesn’t involve me but you’re my best friend.” Midoriya is breathing heavy from speaking with no break. He looks down after removing his hand from Shoto’s shoulder. His face goes from determined and concerned to downhearted. When his eyes meet Shoto’s again they both share a common emotion, hopelessness. “Also, this does involve me, I was her friend too. I care about her; everyone cares about her. We all miss her Todoroki! I know your suffering but you aren’t alone. You are isolating yourself and its not good for you. Please Shoto, talk to me.”

Shoto searches Midoriya’s eyes for any emotions other than loss and sorrow. He wants to walk away and pretend like this never happened. He thinks suffering alone is better than relying on the people around him. He hadn’t even been back to your shared home, nor had he returned to his childhood home. Instead he locked himself away in a hotel room surrounding himself with your things and any media that could drive him to kill his father. He watched videos and read articles about the disgusting man’s feats and failures. He waited for the perfect moment while clinging to your fading scent on the clothing you left behind. He was a truly broken man and even though he was a hero his intents match a certain cerulean eyed villain. There were a million things that lingered on Shoto’s tongue, words that would never get to be said. He wanted to talk, hell he wished he could have been like his classmates crying their hearts out while sharing in-depth stories but every time he picked up his phone to call or text, he saw the photo of you he had saved as his background. A picture of you smiling carefree while the sun casts rays of light that shimmer off your skin. Your hair is frozen in a windy mess behind you. Your eyes are staring at him with so much happiness and love that it hurts. It wasn’t taken on some special day or under certain circumstance, it was just a simple photo taken on a simple walk. You didn’t understand why he chose the photo yet he was overly fond of it. When the picture stared at him, he couldn’t call his friends. He just stared into your eyes wishing to see the real ones. He missed your loving gaze, he missed any look you had as long as it was toward him, even if it was anger. He wanted anything but this. Having to seek comfort in a photo was cause for heartache.

Shoto pulls his phone from his pocket, looking at the photo, before looking at Midoriya. The words still sit behind his lips, tingling, willing his to speak.

“I have nothing to say Midoriya.” Midoriya had waited with bated breath for Shoto to tell him something, anything. He could see it in his friend’s eyes, he knew there were many things that needed to be said. The response he was given punched him in the gut. He would have doubled over in pain if the punch wasn’t metaphorical. Midoriya wasn’t the type to let things go and as he watched Shoto turn around, his legs taking him god knows where. Midoriya ran after him, Shoto ignored the chase and left. He ignored the calls of his name as he exited the agency. He had to come up with a new plan. His hands found comfort in his pockets as he tried to blend in with the darkness. He heard his name echo as he turned the corner out of view. What was there to say now. If he told Midoriya what his plan was then he would try to stop him. Midoriya tried to follow but found himself in front of an alleyway of ice. He sighed pushing his hand against it. He imagined that this was the same ice that now lived in Todoroki’s heart. You were the fire that balanced it, but you were gone now.

“I wish you were here Y/n. You would know how to help him.” How ironic to need a dead person’s help when they were technically the cause of the problem. Even more ironic was while this occurred you were very much alive, asleep with your book still clutched in your hand blissfully unaware of Shoto’s unraveling mental state and morals.

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“Good morning doll.” Usually you’d snap at Dabi for his pet name but you had gotten used to it. By now you were more like roommates, he paid rent and shopped while you did everything else. You’d never admit to being used to this life but somehow another week had passed giving you no other choice. You followed every news cast and read every paper that came out hoping to read that Endeavor had died or been critically injured. It was cruel but necessary to survive and return to Shoto. Except the disappointment had to kick in after a week of nothing. No murder or injuring occurred. You started to think maybe Dabi didn’t have as strong a hold as he thought, worst case you thought Shoto didn’t care anymore. Maybe he had given up on you. A smack to your arm caught your attention as Dabi hit you before thrusting the newest paper toward you. You snatched it up faster than he could blink. He scoffed at your pathetic gesture. He had started hating watching your face fill with hope only to be disappointed by more hero news and never any good old fashion bad news. Your mood would drop and maybe a few tears would slip away. He wasn’t irritated with you, no he hated how you did this to yourself. He knew this wasn’t paradise and that playing dead was draining. He just wished that you could relax more. He had seen your smile and heard you laugh and those moments stayed with him. He watched you now waiting. You never cried, instead you crumpled the paper. You threw it on the ground before leaving the small kitchen table. You fled the room with what seemed like betrayal and anger. The bathroom door slammed shut. This was new, not the usual reaction, now he had to read the paper. It was crumpled and torn slightly in parts but he could read it, however there was really no reason to read it when the front cover was a large candid shot of pro hero Shoto smiling with his arm around some upstart, some young female sidekick. The picture must have hurt you but Dabi knew that it was faked. The smile never reached the heroes eyes. They were dead with you. The girl was all too happy to be getting a photo with Shoto. It was publicity, the media trying to make things interesting again. The article headline read Pro Hero Shoto Mending His Broken Heart With New Love Interest? Dabi actually laughed at how pathetic it was. He continued to read about this new girl and Shoto’s love for her. It mentioned her story about how she always looked up to Shoto, how he made her strive to work harder. Shoto couldn’t be bothered to comment. Dabi leaned back in his chair smirking. This was a part of someone’s plan, whether or not it was Endeavors pathetic attempt at changing the narrative or Shoto’s attempt at distracting the media while he goes after his true goal. Either way someone was pulling the strings with this little media shake up. Dabi chucked the paper onto the table not caring for its fake news. He knew what needed to be done and he didn’t like it.

A knock on the bathroom door brought you away from the storm of thoughts brewing. You had been under the, now cold, faucet for a while now. Two things were prominent in your thoughts, killing your fiancé or the girl who dared claim him. You weren’t stupid, you could put two and two together, they weren’t actually romantic interest. However, that didn’t stop you from imagining showing up at his agency with hells fury behind you. You could imagine the pure fear that people would have watching a dead girl attempt to kill her widow. If you didn’t go after him, you’d find this girl and make her regret the day she thought she could have him. You weren’t dead so watching him potentially move on made your blood boil. He got to live like a normal human while you were trapped. You were stuck enclosed in the same rooms till god knows when. You clenched your fist aware of the missing digit, another thing you lost because of this whole mess that shouldn’t have involved you. Another knock brought your attention to the door. The water stopped as your prune fingers turned the faucet off. You let your back fall against the cold tile before slipping to the tub. You refused to cry because he didn’t deserve your tears right now. No matter the truth, you were pissed at him. No tears or tight chest, just pure unadulterated anger. Dabi finally opened the door not caring if you’d yell at him. He went to pull the curtain aside but was stopped. Your fingers gripped it tightly to prevent it from moving. “What do you want Dabi.”

“I want you doll.” A scoff could be made out behind the curtain. You rolled your eyes but he only heard your sound. He leaned against the warm and slightly damp wall waiting for a witty response or reply of disgust. You remained quiet. “I want you to get off the shower floor and get some clothes on. I got a surprise waiting for you.”

With nothing left to say Dabi left you alone. You had low expectation when it came to a surprise from your kidnapper. Hell at least Belle was given a castle and had company in the form of talking dishware. A literal beast was outdoing Dabi, but that was to be expected since fairy tales were fake and Dabi wasn’t a prince. You didn’t rush to get ready which was fine by Dabi. He sat on the couch waiting with all the necessary parts of his gift. Once you dried off and had clothing on you walked into the living room. You didn’t get to far before a bag was thrown at you. Eyes wide you move quickly to catch it before it could hit you or the ground. In the bag was a strange variety of items, that separate made no sense but together made a brilliant gift. With raised brows you pull out the first item which is a wig, with hair color different then your actual hair color, that looks so real you almost check for scalp pieces. Dabi gestures for you to keep going. With the wig on the table you pull out a small case, in it a pair of contacts that were very different from your actual eye color. The gifts were staring to create more questions and concern than pleasure or happiness. The next few items were miscellaneous pieces of clothing, all dark clothed and plain enough that they would bring attention to you. A scarf and glasses also appeared from the bottom of the bag. The only theory that you could piece together made you laugh at how ridiculous it was. The more you looked at the items on the table together the more you realized that maybe it wasn’t ridiculous. You look at Dabi skeptically as you point to the confusing surprise. “What the hell is this.”

“It’s a disguise.” Your heart stopped for a second. Could this really be happening? You look at him with pleading eyes begging for this to be real and not some kind of sick joke or trick. “You’re gonna need it to leave the apartment.”

There was no way that this was real. You must have died for real. You suck in a breath, holding it in while your chest shakes with your shoulders. You are trying to prevent yourself from crying. You still refused to believe this cruel trick. The costume pieces sat staring at you, this was farfetched. Dabi was expecting more excitement, to be praised, he should have expected that you would be skeptical.  Instead of criticizing you he walks up next to before smacking your back. “Go get ready I’m not waiting all day.”

“Yes okay, I’ll be right back. You are not allowed to change your mind!” You had never moved so fast before in your life. Before being kidnapped you would have spent a good amount of time preparing to go out, especially with Shoto but right now you were throwing everything on with haste. You pulled on a pair of black leggings and over those a simple enough deep blue skirt. It was above your knees and for a moment you felt like a high schooler again. The top was long sleeve and didn’t matter because a hoodie went right over it. The hoodie wasn’t bulky and instead was light weight and thinner. The hood was most likely to hide your face if necessary. The wig was most likely the most expensive item because it was definitely not a costume one. You had to giggle since it looked like you were cosplaying. Your contact covered eyes stared back at you in the mirror, your fingers ran through the wig. You didn’t look like you and this made you feel like you were being reborn. You were still Y/n and yet the girl that stared back wasn’t her. You were dead and this girl was alive, it was almost riveting. When you walked out of the bathroom Dabi looked you over, he smirked nodding with a look that told you he was impressed. You pretended like you didn’t care but you did. A little good attention wasn’t bad to want. You were starved for it so it was no shock that you didn’t shy away from his. You walked toward the door but he was faster blocking the exit. Your heart dropped thinking he was going to laugh and tell you this was a joke. Instead he placed the fake glasses onto your face. “There are a few rules your gonna have to follow.”

Relief washed over you as your fingers brushed the cool metal that framed the fake lenses. You listen to ever word. The basic rules were to not speak to or look at anyone long enough to be recognized, you weren’t allowed to use your quirk and if any heroes tried to approach you were to act shy and hide your face. You had a lot of rules about hiding your identity and yet here was the most recognizable villain ever. He smirked knowing you felt he was being hypocritical.

“Don’t worry Doll, I got someone for this.” He motioned toward his own face where his skin was held together by staples. You nodded not knowing exactly what he would do but not really caring. You got to leave and that was the most thrilling thing ever. He opened the door and you felt the cold hallway air hit your exposed skin, which wasn’t much. A giggle escapes as Dabi holds his hand out for you to take. You grab it with vigor ready to be alive again, even if it was just for a moment.  

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You had no idea how he did it but Dabi looked like a normal person. Well normal to society. Personally, you didn’t mind how he looked. He took you another apartment in the same building. He walked in and walked out without staples or scars. The quick explanation he gave was that the persons quirk helped change how someone’s appearance looks to others. Sure, enough your fingers touched his face and you could feel the staples even though you couldn’t see them. Amazement, you were amazed at this quirk before you realized the quirk could have been used on you and you wouldn’t have needed to wear the get up. Dabi knew what you were thinking when you side glanced him.

“Don’t look at me like that doll. This was expensive, much more expensive than your get up. You can wear a costume; I can’t really cover this up.” You hadn’t even thought about him having to have paid for the quirk users help. Of course, in an underground world someone gets money any way they can. You laugh at his comment about covering up his face. You walk in front of him turning, your skirt swirls around with you as your fingers brush his cheek. Your eyes hold so much kindness. “You don’t need to cover up. I think your face is perfect.”

Dabi blinks, he doesn’t really know what to say. Mostly because he never mentioned being ashamed of his scars openly. He was though. He hated how he looked but lived with it since it was his choice, technically he was forced into something so dramatic by his abusive father. You didn’t need to compliment him; you didn’t owe him a smile. You were really a peculiar person. His arm slowly lifts before a flick is administered to your forehead. Your hand quickly moves to rub the spot while you face scrunches. “How sweet you think I’m covering up because I’m ashamed when really it’s because I’m a wanted criminal. I do appreciate it sweetheart. Better watch out, I know you’re touch starved but falling for your captor is kind of cliché. No Stockholm syndrome allowed here.”

Your face went from discomfort to embarrassed. You rush after him as he walks away with a cocky grin. You hit his shoulder before walking next to him.

“I would never fall for you.”

“I know because you have your AmaZinG Shoto you love so much.” You hear Shoto’s name and feel angry again. You grab Dabi’s hand, holding it while you both leave the apartment building. He laughs knowing that you had nothing to say because it was a touchy subject. The moment you both felt the cool fall air blow by the anger you feel dissolves replaced with excitement. You are free, this was what a caged bird feels when it gets to spread its wings. You didn’t even care that you had no idea where this was. Your legs moved you off the front steps of the neglected building and you spun around on the sidewalk. Dabi laughed while his hands pushed into his pockets. He walked onto the sidewalk after you. You stopped spinning turning to him with an appreciative smile. He didn’t deserve it but he accepted it. His hand gestures forward and you grab onto him once again. You link arms with him making him raise a brow. You don’t care about his reaction because you aren’t going to let anything take away your happiness. You let him lead the way, walking passed rundown buildings and sketchy people. You don’t want to judge but it definitely wasn’t a part of town you would have been found in prior to dying. The dirty sidewalks, seedy businesses, and rundown buildings soon enough turn to crowded sidewalks and streets, large and small businesses, and hero agencies. Oh god, you looked down as you passed an agency you didn’t recognize. Dabi laughs because most kidnapped people would go screaming the first sign of ‘help’ while you were acting like you were also a wanted criminal. You looked away from the looming agency building and around the street. People walked right by you never even questioning who you were. They didn’t care. You weren’t Y/n right now, just a stranger. Dabi didn’t understand how you felt so content with being around strangers. He didn’t understand because he didn’t like people and they didn’t tend to like him. Watching you intrigued him, you didn’t run away, you hadn’t stopped smiling, and you hadn’t mentioned Shoto.

“Da-Um Dante, can we get something to drink?” You almost said his name but stopped quickly changing it to the first thing you could think of. This fake name amused Dabi causing him to smirk, not only that but he was also smirking because you asked for a drink. He wanted so badly to tease you but for some reason couldn’t find himself doing so. “Sure, doll.”

“Let’s go to that café, I want something warm with whipped cream.” Your arm released his so you could pull him along. The café wasn’t to busy and Dabi was grateful. He watched you look over the menu mouthing the items to yourself. The cashier called you forward asking your order. You ordered a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. The cashier smiled at your simple order before looking at Dabi.

“And would your boyfriend like something as well.” Boyfriend? Your face scrunched up like you had just smelled a soiled diaper. Dabi couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped. The cashier could have thought you were siblings but of course you had to be dating him. Before you could comment about him not being your boyfriend he stepped forward, his arm going around your waist to help pull you to his side. He leans closer to the counter. “I’ll have a black coffee.”

“Da-” Before you could say his real name by accident his grip tightened and he gave you a look that warned you. You pouted before pulling away. He paid as you went off to find a table. You found on in a corner against the window, which was exciting to you because you could watch the people. Dabi found you daydreaming, your head in your hand while your eyes watched some high school students taking pictures together.

“God, they look stupid, poor uninformed youth. Little do they know what the pitiful future holds.” You stared across at him as he looked at the teens with a completely opposite viewpoint. A cream packet hit Dabi prompting him to bring his attention back at you. You were displeased with his commentary. “Really? Because that’s truly how everyone’s life is destined to turn out. I’d like to believe that those kids are going to grow up and enjoy life, they might change the world or make a big difference. I know you have your reasons to not enjoy life but that doesn’t mean everyone is going down the same path. Everyone deserves a chance to be happy.”

“Hit a nerve, did I?” Dabi had almost forgotten that you both came from different worlds. While you believed in hope, he had none. Hope was for children, for fools. You however knew the cruelties of the world and still help onto the sliver of hope you had left. These kids were you. They laughed and you remembered when you were their ages, laughing with your own friends. Now you were trapped, a prisoner of your own accord. Regardless you did not find him funny or charming. “Such a prick.”

“Never said I was anything else.” He was annoying and arrogant but honest. He never pretended he was a gentleman; you chose to believe he could be one. You couldn’t argue with him. It also wasn’t worth ruining your time outside the apartment. This outing was yours not his.

“Your drinks.” You thanked the barista who dropped off your order. You held the cup a gentle smile crossing your lips. Dabi didn’t touch his drink, instead he was watching the people outside. His own thoughts bringing him to think about your future. He wasn’t planning on keeping you around forever but his plan was working slowly. You were now intertwined with his life. He thought about you every time he left the apartment. You could have escaped but you hadn’t even tried. It was like his promise to release you was good enough to calm you, to make you trust him. His eyes watched you through the window, your reflection seen from his angle. The way you licked the whipped cream from your lips caught his attention. He looked beyond your reflection and at the people passing, not wanting to get to invested in watching you. He wondered how long you’d spend running around the city till he’d have to drag you back.

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six hours had come and gone and yet to you it was minutes. You had missed the fresh air, the sunlight dancing on your skin, and the chatter of people around you. You had actually had conversations with strangers, you spoke to people and they spoke with you. It was thrilling and yet as the sun started setting you knew that it would be ending soon. Your face fell with your shoulders at the idea of going back. Dabi would have went back by now but you wanted to stay out and this was all for you. He drank the subpar coffee, walked the crowded stores, ate overpriced food, and even let you get close to people and conversate despite the risk. The streetlights turned on and it seemed even more people were out. Dabi’s phone was vibrating against his leg, his hand reached into his pocket to pick it up. You were watching one of the TV sets that was playing a news station. He hesitated before disappearing down an empty alleyway to answer the call.

“I told you not to call me today.” The irritation was clear in Dabi’s a statement.

“I’m well aware of what you told me it’s just that we have a problem.”

“What problem is to big for pro hero hawks that he has to call a villain to get help from.”

“Shoto.”

There was a brief moment of silence, tension in the air and through the phone. Dabi thought things were moving slowly so now he was sure that the pro’s need for revenge was dwindling. The sidekick in the photo came to mind. Maybe there were to many distractions, maybe he needed a push in the right direction. A reminder of his loss.

“What’s the problem.”

“He hasn’t been coming by endeavors agency and I haven’t seen much of him even in the district. He might be planning something but currently he is avoidant of his father and thus is getting in the way of the plan.”

Dabi was right, but of course he was right, brother’s intuition. This was beyond irritating news but he was already formulating a plan. That plan needed to happen, now. He could hear the phone move away from his informant, hawks, followed by whispering. The person speaking in the background had no idea that their precious hero was helping destroy the current number one. Dabi hung up the call and texted hawks a brief warning. Looked like it was time to send you home. The moment he left the alleyway he found you were gone. Of course, you were gone. He disappeared without telling you where he was going. Hell, he wouldn’t be shocked if you finally gathered the courage and common sense to run away. Before he could even begin to question your whereabouts, he saw you. You were leaning against a clothing store with your hands held in front of you. A stray tear was making its way down your cheek as you looked into the night sky above. The lights and clouds forming made it hard to see any stars. Dabi walked through the crowds of people with only you in his sights. Why were you crying? His hand reached for you but retracted immediately when he watched someone else catch your tear. His body stood frozen amongst a group of business men while his worst fear surfaced.  

“Are you okay? I saw you and couldn’t help coming over here. You look so sad, familiar and sad.” Standing in front of you, so close his breath touched your face, was red riot. He was in disguise just like you were but not as intense. He wore a hoodie to cover his hair which was down instead of spiked. A mask hid his rows of shark like teeth and his casual clothing made his build less noticeable. You knew who he was even before you looked at him. His voice laced with concern and care was more familiar than his looks to you. He wasn’t a close friend but if you were friends with Eijiro Kirishima he thought the world of you, would die or kill for you. He was ride of die and right now he was talking to a dead friend with no clue. Your throat tightened and fear pulsed through your veins. Fear of being caught? Dabi taught you that, that being caught was bad, that if this plan didn’t happen then things would end up so much worse. Fear wasn’t the only thing you felt. You wanted to lean into his hand when it caught your tears. You yearned for his attention, for physical contact from a past that seems so far away regardless of how much time it had really been. You look into his kind crimson eyes and realize that maybe he was trying to figure out who you were. He looked curious but there was a hint of confusion. He was wondering why you were familiar and the only thought he had made no sense. If you talked, he would figure it out. You were literally stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“I…” You didn’t have to speak because someone else spoke up instead. Dabi’s hand yanked you away from the wall and into his side. He turned you till your chest was pressed into his own, hiding your familiar features away from the prying heroes’ eyes. He knew that his own self was way more familiar but with this quirk hiding his distinct features he didn’t worry about getting caught.  Dabi’s piercing stare causes Kirishima to back up, his hands raised in surrender.

“Are you bothering my girlfriend.” Dabi’s voice was distinct and yet when he spoke, he sounded like someone else. He had spoken with a deep growl that fit his usual tone but something was off. Somehow, he wasn’t Dabi talking. You couldn’t be offended by his words since he was saying them to save the both of you. Yet deep down you weren’t disgusted or offended, instead hearing him growl with a twinge of overprotective jealousy made your heart skip a beat. The way he held onto you in a tight possessive manner made you almost fall for the false title as his girlfriend.

“I didn’t mean any harm. I saw her crying and she seemed sad so I wanted to make sure she was okay… She reminded me of a friend I recently lost.” Kirishima was never the type to make trouble but he did find himself stumbling upon it quite often. He sounded sincere and didn’t want Dabi to get the wrong idea. You knew Dabi didn’t actually believe you were being harassed; he was preventing you both from getting involved in something that would jeopardize everything. The part that really hit you hard was his last sentence. You reminded him of you. He approached you hoping to ease your pain but also because he wished you were the real thing. The harsh reality being that you were the real you and he wasn’t allowed to know that. He was mourning you as well and he wanted to look into your eyes and see the girl that used to go drinking with the Bakusquad. Instead he saw your glossy tear covered contacts. He saw the fake you and was reminded that people don’t just come back from the dead. You had to bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from running to him, to prevent a slip up just because you wanted to give him reassurance. Dabi’s grip on you tightened, as if he knew what you were contemplating. “She’s fine, just got lost in the crowd. Thanks for the worry but we must get going. Sorry about your friend.”

“Hey!” As Dabi turned away from Kirishima to walk away with you, a voice called out to the red head. Your body got tense and Dabi recognized it as he jolted his head back toward the hero. Bakugou was in his own shitty disguise walking toward his best friend. Kirishima was a good boy, someone who wouldn’t harass strangers, Bakugou wasn’t the same way. If he thought you were familiar, he would interrogate you. Dabi was ready to use his quirk to escape if needed, ideally he would prefer not to. “Come on shitty hair, let’s go.”

“Sorry… I forgot we were supposed to meet up. I saw this girl and she reminded me of Y/n.” Dabi was already pulling you away again the moment he realized Bakugou hadn’t noticed the two of you. The crowd started to swallow you up but you could still make out what Kirishima had sadly spoken, you also heard Bakugou’s response. “Idiot, she’s dead. You gotta stop looking for her, you’re starting to act like Icy Hot.”

You let yourself be dragged down streets and away from the lit-up buildings. Your day had already faded to night and now you knew where you were headed. Dabi was obviously taking you home and surprisingly you didn’t mind. It had been fun but, after hearing your former friends talk about you as if you were a ghost, the fun dissipated into self-loathing. At some point Dabi wasn’t holding your arm anymore, instead you followed slightly behind him as he led you back. He would have told you that it was time to return but he knew that you were well aware. Your mood had soured and he wasn’t going to contribute more than he had. The apartment building was dark when you arrived outside it. You would easily enough deem it an abandoned building had you not been living here. Dabi held the front door open for you allowing you to walk through the doorway and into the hallway with the flickering yellow bulbs. Dabi walked behind you occasionally telling you where to turn, until you got to the apartment. He let you inside and went to apologize but you had already started heading to your bedroom. He planned on leaving immediately but that didn’t happen. He followed you inside, his phone discarded on the table as it attempted to interrupt him.

“Did you have a good day?” You stopped outside the bedroom door and thought about the hours outside these walls. Despite how it ended you did have fun. Hell, you had a blast just being out in the fresh air, surrounded by people and bustling buildings. It was sad that you found satisfaction in freedom but who wouldn’t after living their life locked up for an undetermined amount of time. A small smile graced your lips as you pulled off the wig. You held it in your hand as your hair settled down back against your face. You turned and looked your captor, friend? in the eyes.

“I had a good day, thank you Dabi.” You open the bedroom door before disappearing into the room leaving Dabi a little surprised by your answer. His shoulders shake when he starts laughing. He really had no idea what to think of you. He walked away from the door calling out to you that he was leaving. Without a response from you he left. You didn’t cry once you were alone. Instead you sat on the floor with your head in your hands replaying the boy’s words. Kirishima thought you were familiar, Bakugou had to remind him that you were dead and yet you were pulling a fast one on them. Had it been Shoto would he have known? Would he instantly know despite the layers of disguise? Would Midoriya have known it was you. Would he have chased you down? These words meant nothing because there was no way to test if this would happen. Had Shoto shown himself on the crowded street Dabi would have taken you home immediately. He didn’t find the others a threat, Shoto was a pawn so of course him seeing you was a threat.

Bzzt bzzt bzzt. The sound of vibrating could be heard coming from the living room. An eyebrow raised as you sat up, getting off the floor. Had Dabi not actually left? You dragged yourself down the hall finding that you were alone in the apartment. The only thing out of place was Dabi’s phone sitting on the table. The entire time you had been here Dabi hadn’t let his phone out of his sight. You wondered if this was a trap as you approached it. The screen was lit up and you saw a text waiting to be read. The missed call notification was below the text box. You read the contact name. You didn’t have to decipher the insulting nickname; You knew that the person trying to get ahold of Dabi was Hawks. You unlocked his phone, you had seen the code before when he hadn’t realized you were watching, the text popped up. You tried to ignore snooping through the previous messages and instead opted to read only the ones that had just arrived.

[I know you already have your mind set on this but maybe rethink this. I don’t think it’s going to go the way you want it to.]

[Are you ignoring my calls on purpose?]

[You can’t kill Shoto’s new sidekick. It messes up your plan against Endeavor.]

[Shoto just left the agency…]

The words reflected off your drying eyes as you read through the texts. Your heart had started racing as you read what his intensions were tonight. What had led him to this decision? Had you contributed to his idea to kill her. You didn’t want to be the reason an innocent life was taken even if you held hatred for her that very morning. This couldn’t be happening. Had Dabi had his phone would the texts change his mind. Had you known his plan prior to him leaving would you have been able to stop him. Your grip on his cell tightened as you decided what needed to done. You hadn’t taken off your disguise, it was dark outside, and you had a shit ton of adrenaline coursing through you. You held onto the phone as you ran out the door making sure it locked before you disappeared down the dully lit hallway. The outside world was much darker and colder than it had been earlier. You had no idea where to look for him but you realized that he might have mentioned a location. You checked back through the texts but found no location, instead a lot of conversations about Endeavors demise and Shoto’s involvement. You went to the internet looking for answers to where the sidekick could be. You found a tweet the showed a picture that had been taken ten minutes prior. The photo had the girl posing with a large electric building clock in the background. You knew where this was and the time gave you an idea of how long ago this was actually taken. You hoped you’d make it in time. You were suddenly hit with the fear that Dabi wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you if you tried to stop him. You let the fear settled in your stomach while your legs sent you flying down streets. People looked at you like you were crazy and the funny thing was you were thinking the same thing. You were crazy, this was all insane. The craziest part being your conflict over whether you were doing this to save an innocent girl or because you didn’t want Dabi getting caught. A groan of frustration left you as you found the building the photo was taken in front of. Your legs were throbbing from running. You were curious as to why a sidekick under Endeavor would be so far from their district. You looked around while overthinking everything. You needed to figure out where she would go and where Dabi would ambush her. An alley would be his primary choice and there were plenty of those around. You ran around asking people if they had seen her, using Dabi’s phone to show the picture. People thought you were some crazed fan before pointing you off in different directions. Eventually you felt defeated, like all this was for nothing. What if Dabi had realized his phone was missing and went back to get it. He would definitely be on his way to kill you. The alternative thought was that the girl was already dead. Your feet begged for you to stop walking. You just about gave up when the most putrid smell hit you. Your hands covered your nose and mouth. You gagged. The smell brought you closer and closer to the truth. You followed it knowing what it was. The smell of charred flesh, burning hair, boiling blood. The smell of overcooked organs and crackling bones.

“Dear god.” You found her. You found her the exact way you hoped not to. What was left of her corpse was enough to identify her. Her teeth could be seen since her lips and the skin around them was burned away. Her gums had burns as well, her tongue was nonexistent. Her eyes seemed to have boiled but you could still make out her warped irises. He didn’t burn away all of her hair; you could see slight strands sticking to what skin remained on her scalp. Her body was worse off. You couldn’t look at her any longer. You turned sobbing into the same hands that prevented the smell from invading your nose. You could prevent the smell from getting stuck in your nose. You would remember this smell for the rest of your life, her burnt corpse would live in the darkest recesses of your mind. Your legs were starting to lose their ability to remain standing. You wanted nothing more than to escape this hellscape you had searched for. You glanced back again at her before quickly looking away again. Sobs slipped out as you mourned her, a stranger who this morning you wished didn’t exist. It was ironic really. You could help but blame yourself. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen.”

You showered yourself in blame but the reality was that Dabi needed Shoto to remember you, to remember his need for revenge, and in order to achieve that Shoto needed to be reminded what you had supposedly gone through. Except you were actually alive and this girl wasn’t. You finally snapped out of it enough to want to leave. Dabi was obviously gone which meant you were limited on time to get back before he saw you were gone. You pulled out the phone and realized there was another missed call from Hawks. You opened the voicemail and had in playing in your ear.

“Dabi! You have to get the hell out of there. She sent an emergency alert and Shoto is looking for her. He’s on his way there now.”

Fear once again crept over you as you let your arm drop down to your side. The phone light cast a shadow on the wall and revealed someone approaching. Suddenly the alleyway felt warm and yet chills engulfed your body. You turned slowly as you felt the intruder staring at you.

“Shoto…” You whispered his name, a million feelings trying to surface but all you could do was smile sadly. You never thought about the body sitting behind you and the smell no longer existed as you watched him walk closer. You were unaware of what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He was already upset that day, his anger waiting to surface and now it was bubbling out in the form of ice creeping down the alley way ground and heat burning along the walls. The light from the phone had disappeared as the screen blackened. The light was now being cast from the Shoto’s flames. The closer Shoto got the ore he could see. He was staring at a woman in a black hoodie, dark skirt, and black leggings. A woman with unfamiliar hair and eyes. He was staring at a stranger. You were a stranger standing in front of a dead body. The charred disfigured corpse of his newest sidekick. You weren’t a stranger anymore but instead a villain. This wasn’t a case of stumbling upon a dead body, No. To Shoto he had arrived late and you hadn’t left on time. You stepped to the side as if you were expecting him to walk past you. It was a mistake. He was able to see her body, your own demise came flying to the forefront of his mind. You had been a pile of ash and she was still recognizable but the two were far too similar. He looked at you and for a moment you thought he saw the real you. His hand raised and you couldn’t help smiling, imagining his hand cupping your cheek. His arms around you holding you. Instead his eyes held pain, pure unadulterated hatred. His flames danced across his body and you had no time to react as they were sent directly toward you. The alley way was blazing with fire and yet your feet were iced to the ground. There was no escape as you witnessed your fiancé look at you with the need for revenge, he wanted you dead. A sob escaped as the flames finally reached you. They dance lightly against your skin before dissipating. Red flames were now blue as a wall surrounded you. You had closed you eyes while waiting for death. You’d accepted this so easily but someone else wasn’t going to. You hadn’t realized that Dabi had come for you. When he saw Shoto he knew it wasn’t going to go the way your imagination wanted it to. He knew the broken man would try to kill you. His flames burned hotter than Shoto’s which he used to his advantage. He protected you by burning away the flames that attempted to swallow you up. His body emerged from the blue inferno. The quirk that had hid his flaws was gone. His face was back to being graphed and stapled, his eyes burned with as much hatred as Shoto’s. His hatred was conflicted, he hated Shoto for trying to hurt you and he hated himself for ever putting you in this situation. You were sobbing on your knees as you heard Shoto screaming out in frustration. Dabi laughed at his pathetic brother as he walked in front of you. His flames still wildly blazing around you, never actually touching you.

“You killed her… It was you. You killed the love of my life. That girl you’re protecting, I bet you love her. I bet you’d be destroyed of she died. I’ll take her from you. I’ll make you regret ever taking Y/n.” Shoto was fast as he rushed Dabi, but Dabi was faster to defend and retaliate. You couldn’t move as Shoto’s words echoed through you. You could feel how broken he was and all you could think about was how you were the one who did this to him. Regret burned hotter than the flames. You watched Dabi and Shoto move like a well-choreographed dance. Never hitting the other as flames and ice clashed. The wall of ice thrust in front of Dabi was shattered with a sharp punch from the raven-haired boy. Shoto moved forward while droplets of water rained down as his ice was melted. His hands finally reached Dabi as they took ahold of his throat. Dabi lifted his own hand thrusting it against the duel quirked boys face. His quirk activated causing Shoto to release him while yelling out in pain. His face wasn’t burned but it was red, irritation from the heat evident on his skin. Dabi approached him while rubbing his throat which now had hand marks on it. He stood in front of his clueless brother.

“I didn’t kill her. Endeavor killed her, just like he killed your brother. Endeavor is somewhere laughing at you as you spiral out of control. I’m having doubts that you ever loved her because if you had then he’d be dead. Had you really loved her maybe she’s be alive right now.” Dabi was letting his emotions take control as he taunted the pro hero. He wanted Shoto to hurt physically and mentally. He wanted him to suffer even after he killed endeavor and got you back. At this rate he might not even want to give you to a man that he felt didn’t deserve you. Shoto let the words settle, to dig under his skin. He wasn’t about to let Dabi get away with his statement, or any of his actions. He wasn’t going to go for the villain. He was going to go for you. His ice shot him upward giving him an advantage. Dabi was ready for the attack but it never came. Instead he became all to aware of the fact that you hadn’t fled the scene. “Dammit.”

“No hard feelings.” Shoto spoke directly to you as he dropped from his ice wall beyond the blue flames. He landed in front of you so close you could touch him. You looked up at him slowly lifting your hand toward him hoping he would take it. He slapped it away looking at you with disgust. To him you were begging for your life, looking for repentance. He had none to give you. You wanted him to looked past the contacts, through the wig. Why couldn’t he see you? You smiled sadly mouthing an I love you before closing your eyes. Tears dripped down your still burning cheeks. It was as if the next few moments happened in slow motion. Shoto moved his hand hovering above you as the fire engulfed the world around you. You felt the pain set in dragging a scream from deep within your chest. It was searing pain that didn’t fade even as the flames disappeared with the burning of Shoto’s body. The flames burned a blue so bright they were almost white. Dabi’s body burned with his quirk use. The smell of hair and skin burning once again invaded your senses and you had no idea if you were smelling yourself or one of them. Shoto was yelling out in pain while Dabi yelled with anger. The moment returned to normal speed as you heard Hawks yelling above. “SHOTO STOP!!!” Shoto looked up as well had Dabi. Immediately he knew this was his time to get the hell out of there. He ran past his brother, both men in excruciating pain. Shoto reached out to stop him but he hesitated when he heard Hawks screaming for him to back down. He could hear the sirens as he watched Dabi collect you into his arms. He was trying to put as little pressure on your new wounds as he could while carrying you. In your delirious pained state, you reached your left hand out toward him. He had to have been delirious himself because he could have sworn that the villain girl, he had just tried to kill was missing her ring finger, the same finger that was left for him.

“Y/n.” Your name slipped from his lips as you were carried away from the scene. Your eyes closed and you drifted off into a nightmare that resembled the moments that had transpired that night. Dabi brought you home cursing himself and everything around him. He punched the wall cracking it. He growled as his back hit the same wall he just punched. He didn’t understand why he wanted so badly to kill Shoto right now but he knew that it was all because of you. You were supposed to be a small pawn to get the game going, to get it closer to the climax and now you were involved deeper than he wanted. You were never supposed to get hurt, not like this. Looking at your burned skin, relieved that the burns weren’t third degree. He was able to protect you but wished he had done more. You should have been unscathed and yet you lay on the couch marked due to his own family’s mistakes.  

“I’m so sorry Y/n.” He moved to the front of the couch his hand brushing your scorched cheek. The wig had basically burned away and the contacts needed to be removed before they caused permanent damage to your eyes. A knock on the door told him that help had arrived.

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Hours had gone by and you remained in a mindscape that resembled hell. Shoto continuously killing you while you felt and watched every moment. He reminded you about how you didn’t matter to him, that he never loved you and yet his eyes said they did. It was a cruel world to be trapped in. Slowly thought that world faded and you could see a dull light behind your heavy lids. You could hear a voice gently speaking to you, apologies and promises. When you finally found the strength to open your eyes you found Dabi staring at you. His eyes looked sad but that quickly changed to shock as he realized you were awake. He smirked, or at least tried to.

“I guess true loves kiss does wake a princess.” You scoffed before attempting to slap him. You body was sore but when you saw your skin you had no burns. There were slight markings that made you think that you had been in much worse shape. Dabi was smiling at you as he sat back sighing in relief. You attempted to sit up and he was quick to move and help you. He held your back pulling you up without hurting you. You thanked him and he nodded before getting you a glass of water. He almost dropped it when he saw that you were crying. The glass was left on the coffee table as his arms reached around you. He hadn’t hugged many people in his life but he knew that it held the power to help. You clung to him sobbing into his shoulder, screaming practically. It was painful for Dabi to hear and t reminded him of his newest hatred for Shoto. His hands held you protectively, comfortingly. You held onto him crying until your throat was raw and your tear ducts dried. Eventually it was just you being gently rocked by Dabi as hiccupped sobs continued to escape.

“What do I do know Dabi. What do I do when I died for him and he tried to kill me? I used to dream of our reunion, it was beautiful and full of tears and love. Now when I close my eyes, I picture the flames, the screaming. I hear his words as he tries to kill me. I can feel the look of disgust and hatred.” You had to cover your mouth to try and stop the oncoming panic attack. You wanted to scream but couldn’t. “What do I do when all that kept me alive was the idea of being free to be me again, but the world doesn’t need me in it. He doesn’t need me. I’m a villain in his eyes and I think he might be one in mine now. What is there left for me now.”

“Stop. Please stop. I need you Y/n.” Dabi pulled you against his chest as his lips crashed into your own. A moment of pure emotion and adrenaline. He promised to himself, as his lips molded to yours, that he would make things right for you even if that meant giving up his plan.  

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[softboywriting]

Haven Port | Chapter One | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn and his pack have moved to your tiny town of Haven Port. You've never met werewolves other than your dad before and you’re infinitely curious. You may be only half werewolf but you and Shawn have a connection that will send you on a wild romantic journey in this small town you call home. [hybrid reader] [werewolf shawn] 

Word count: 2.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

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Winter in Haven Port never seemed to end. The small town was blanketed in snow probably a solid 6 months of the year. The population was under four hundred and much of the residents lived outside the actual town.

You were born and raised here in Haven Port, the only child of a Werewolf father and a human mother. Your parents met when your dad got run out of a pack town along the shore.

For twenty two years you've grown up with the same people, and known everyone like they were your family. So when someone new shows up in town you're surprised, and even more so because they came into your shop.

Owning a tea and coffee shop in a place so small seemed unreasonable but most of your business came from regulars, fisherman from the boat yard and online orders that you shipped around the world. You specialize in making custom tea blends and gift baskets that become a highly sought after item during the Christmas season.

The bell over the front door jingles and you dismiss it for a moment, assuming it's one of your regular customers and they will wait for you to appear momentarily. You continue to stack the boxes of your most recent shipment of whole tea leaves. You like to grind them yourself when you make your blends.

You glance out into the shop and see a tall, young, dark haired guy browsing your display table. His appearance stumps you, and you can't put a finger on who he is. For a second you think he is Felicia's son, Cody, the one who ran the post office during the week. But he is too tall, far too tall.  

“Who in the world...” You mutter to yourself as you climb over boxes to get to the counter. A better look would help.

“Hello is anybody- oh. Hello.” The stranger smiles and his eyes meet yours as you approach the sales counter. His eyes...wow...they were like liquid gold, honey in the sun, Amber on an ancient tree. They are stunning.

“Hi,” you say, a smile infectiously spreading across your face of it's own free will. “I don't think we've met.”

“We sure haven't,” he purrs and extends a hand out to you. His eyes leave yours in favor of your ears.

You flatten your ears down and back, realizing he probably thinks you're a weirdo. You hated interaction with people who didn't know you. How could you have forgotten the fuzzy things sticking out of your hair?

“It's rude to stare,” you say cooly, shaking his hand very briefly before burying them in the pockets of your apron.

The guy shakes he head and looks down, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “I'm so sorry. It's been a long time since I met a hybrid...I shouldn't be so rude. I'm s-”

“You've met others?” You ask, cutting him off and he raises his eyebrows. “Where did you come from?”

“You're a curious little pup aren't you?” He chuckles and leans against the counter. “How about we exchange names before we talk histories? I'm Shawn.”

You give your name and twist your hands in your apron. “Would you like some tea? Coffee?”

Shawn looks up at the menu and hums. He bites his lip, narrowing his eyes as he reads. “I'll have the Earl Grey special. No sugar.”

You punch it into the register and announce his total. He slides a card and you turn away to make his drink. When you turn to give it to him he is on his phone, frowning at the small screen. You slide the cup toward him and he wraps his hand around it, brushing your fingers with his.

He looks up, smiles and takes the cup. “Thank you. Have a good day,” he smirks and heads out into the icy spring air.

“Wait! You didn't...tell me where you were from.” You sigh, watching him pull off the street in a big black Jeep that looks way too new for anyone in Haven Port.

Immediately you go for your phone on the back counter. You had to tell your best friend, Faye, exactly what happened. She'd probably never believe you, and maybe Shawn was a fever dream, but you had to tell her anyway.

_____________________

Two days later you turn around from grinding up some tea for a special order and drop your spice blender as you catch sight of Shawn standing at the counter. You'd never heard the bell ring, but it was probably because the blender had been too loud.

Shawn rushes around the counter as you squat down to clean up the broken blender base. “I'm so sorry! I didn't think I'd scare you!” He kneels down and helps you clean up. “I can replace it, I'll order you a new one, top of the line. I feel so bad.”

“It's okay, I've got an extra one. It's not your fault at all. I was just startled.”

Shawn reaches for a towel to put the small pieces into to carry to the trash can. Unfortunately the towel he grabs has powdered sugar all over it from an instant coffee blend you were working on. The white sugar snows down all over your head and you can't help but laugh, falling back against the cupboard as Shawn stares in shock that he's screwed up again.

“I-I am so sorry,” Shawn mutters, reaching for your ears and running his hand over your fur gently dusting the sugar off.  

The moment he touches you, you're done for. Your eyes roll back, you lean into his hand, and you go slack. All you want to do in that moment is curl up on this strangers lap and have him adore you. God if he asked you to, you'd be all over him like a puppy wanting attention.

“Hey, you okay?” Shawn asks quietly, hand in your hair, thumb stroking over the base of your ear.

You snap back to reality, pulling yourself out of the euphoria you'd entered. You shove Shawn away and scramble back along the floor. “Don't touch my ears!” You blurt out as you smooth them down, trying to get rid of the feel of his hands.

Shawn stares, bewildered by your sudden mood change. He stands, brushing his pants off and looks to the front door as the bell jingles.

You stand up and see Faye crossing the small sitting area. She stops, eyes finding Shawn almost instantly. He was hard to miss, being so tall and broad.

“I should go,” Shawn mutters, walking around the counter and straight out the front door.

“Ohmygod! That's Shawn? That! Wow, if you don't lock that down, I'm going to.” Faye drops her bag on the counter and click her tongue. “What happened in here?”

“I dropped a spice blender.”

“Uh huh,” Faye says, eyeing the mess behind the counter. “ You sure you didn't knock it off the counter while you and Shawn were getting hot and heavy?”

“Faye! I don't even know him!”

Faye snorts. “Psh not yet, but you're gonna.”

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A few weeks later and you're behind the shop taking trash out and it's snowing. The sun went down hours ago and the night sky is reflecting off the snow, making the town an off orange and brownish hue. You crunch across the fresh fallen snow. May 2nd and still snowing. That was Haven Port for you.

“Hey,” you hear softly from behind you followed by crunching footsteps. You turn and see Shawn approaching with his hands in his pockets. “I'm sorry I touched your ears.”

“What? Oh! Oh that was weeks ago.” You laugh, shrugging it off. “You didn't know, you were just trying to help. Is that why you haven't come by?”

Shawn rubs his neck nervously. “Well, it's part of the reason. The other part is that I'm helping my pack move into a place right outside town. I was the first to get here so-”

“You're a Werewolf? You're like me!” You grin, excitement bubbling out of you as you start toward Shawn. You knew there was something about him when you'd seen those gorgeous golden eyes.

“Yes,” Shawn chuckles as you circle him. “I take it you haven't met any Werewolves lately?”

“Never. Just my dad, but it's not the same.” You circle him and shake your head. “How do I know you're not a liar?”

Shawn cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders for a second before he steps back and before your very eyes, his form changes into that of a very large rich brown and black wolf.

You can't help yourself as you touch his fur tentatively, fully burying your fingers in his coat near his neck. He sits and you drop to your knees in the snow, hands running up and down his back.

Shawn shifts back, sitting on the ground before you. “You're hard to read.”

“Huh?”

“Well,” he starts, taking your hand and rubbing his fingers over your palm. “You're sweet and shy one moment, then you yell at me the next. Now you're like a kid in a candy store upon learning about me.”

“Y-you're a wolf, how could I not be excited.”

“I'm an alpha actually.”

“An alpha? Oh my God.”

Shawn laughs, standing and pulling you up out of the snow. “You've really never met a wolf before huh?”

“Never. I've never left Haven Port, and not very many people visit here. We're kind of a stop over for fishing boats and that's it.”

“Ah, yeah, I picked Haven Port just for that reason. My pack has run into trouble over the past few years and I really just wanted to settle down somewhere nice. Something drew me to this place...I dunno what it was.”

You shake your head. “There's nothing here?”

“You're here.”

A blush tints your cheeks and you bite your lip. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

Shawn crosses his arms and looks you over. “Come on. I move to this little sleepy snow-covered town and I meet the most adorable hybrid on my first day? I think this town is going to be just what I needed.”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the back door of the shop. “You're such a flirt. I know you're just trying to butter me up for whatever reason.”

“I am not trying t-”

“You don't have to try so hard,” you giggle and Shawn smiles, chuckling nervously. “I'm already interested.”

“Oh? You are huh?”

You walk slowly back toward the door and Shawn follows.”I am. Would you mind walking me home?”

“Of course not. Would you like a ride instead? My Jeep is parked out front.”

“I'd rather walk, if you don't mind. I'm just...I don't know you that well. I don't think getting in a car with a stranger is very smart.”

Shawn shakes his head and laughs. “You're totally right. I'm so dumb, of course we can walk. For the record though, I'm not a creep.”

“Sounds like something a creep would say,” you joke and he just sighs into a chuckle.

You grab your bag and a hat off the coat hooks by the door. You lock up, pushing Shawn out and fishing your keys from your coat pocket to lock the dead bolts.

The two of you walk around the building and past his Jeep and you pause, looking at the shiny black car. It was really nice, and you sort of always dreamed of having one. They were such great all terrain vehicles...it makes you wonder if he bought it just before moving here.

“What's on your mind?” Shawn whispers, leaning in close to your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Nothing, I was just spacing off. Come on, I live up this way.”

You set off up the street, heading for the road that turned toward a street lined with old brick homes. It's chilly, and the wind picks up significantly as you round the corner to your street. You pull your coat closer around you and shiver, even with your Werewolf genetics, the cold got to you sometimes.

“Are you cold?” Shawn asks, glancing over your shivering form. “I could give you my jacket, I'd be fine.”

“No, no we're almost there.” You bite your lip to keep your teeth from chattering and tug your hat down from where it's slid up because of your ears.

“Pup, stop,” Shawn murmurs and grabs your hand. “You're shaking so badly. I can't in good conscience let you keep going like this.”

“I'm not a pup. I'm an adult,” you say a little harsher than you mean to. “I just...I'm fine. We're almost there. It's only a few houses down.”

“Please, I insist.” Shawn shrugs off his thick winter coat so he's standing in a nice collared front zip sweater. It's form fitting and you can't help your eyes as they wander over his chest.

“Fine,” you sigh. Shawn helps you put the coat, squatting to zip it up you. He stands to pull the hood up over your head and admire you in his big coat  It smells like his cologne and him...it's wonderful.

“There, you'll be nice and warm now.” Shawn says smiling down at you as a snowflake falls on your nose.

The two of you look up as it begins to snow, big clusters of flakes falling all around you. You push the coat hood back and your hat falls off as you tilt your head up to catch flakes on your tongue.

Shawn joins you and you can't help but laugh. You're two weirdos standing in the middle of the street at nearly eleven at night catching the first flakes of a snowstorm in your mouths. “What are we doing?” You giggle and Shawn shakes his hair out.

“I'm taking you home I believe.”

“Right, yeah.” You pull the hood over your head, pocketing your hat. “It's a few more houses up.”

Your house is at the end of the street. It's small and made of brick with a stone accent around the base of it. It's the home you grew up in and your parents gave to you when they moved a little farther out of town to a cabin your dad built.

At your porch you stop, hands on your keys in your pocket, and look up at Shawn. “Thanks for walking me home. I know it's not a big deal, being out here alone in a tiny little town, but it was nice.”

“Yeah, it's a pretty sleepy town, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle nervously, grinding your toe into the snow on the porch. “Good night I guess.”

“Mmhmm. Good night.”

Shawn steps off the porch and heads for the road to go back and get his Jeep. It's not until you're inside, greeting your cat Parker, that you realize you still have Shawn's coat on. Quickly you go to the window and look out, he's more than half way down the street and you decide you'll just have to keep it for now. Not that you mind.

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