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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 years

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I just have to ask you for a few characters 👉👈 Porter Gage, Hancock, Raul, Charon and Gob ack don't call me out for my ghoul loving ass just getting showered in praise. I just feel the ghouls don't GET enough lovin', they are all wonderful, handsome and great men.

Porter Gage is the odd one out because I just love that raider man and been playing Nuka World recently-

Select FO Companions React to Sole/Lone/Six Giving them Praise

I'm back!! Oof, so I've officially finished moving and unpacking and all that junk, and I'm ready to get back to the important things lol. Alrighty, so just an update, I've decided to just get back to regular posting. I only had a few more for the 1k event to do, but I knew it would take another few days to get to if they were going to be any good 😅 So, I apologize if I didn't get to yours, but I'm SO thankful for all of you who participated, it was such a blast, and I hope to do more events like it in the future 😊

Anyways, now, let's get back to it! (Also, just one more reminder that requests are closed for the time being so I can catch up on the ones I have now, but I will let you know when they open back up!)

ALRIGHT, so now to the actual post. This is so sweet, omg! 😩 These guys all really do deserve more loving, like... Always. As usual, let me know if you wanna see anyone else for this at all! Cuz goodness knows there are plenty of Fallout folks that deserve to hear a compliment or two much more often.

Included Below: Charon, Gage, Gob, Hancock, Joshua, & Raul

Also, just a heads up, this isn't explicit, per say, but it does get kinda steamy in some places, so just a little NSFW warning for ya. 😉

I hope you enjoy!

Charon:

“Oh my god.” Lone’s mouth hung open as Charon stepped down the stairs and towards the living room.

“What?” He paused his movement, brow scrunching more than usual as he looked down over himself to see if anything was amiss.

They only shook their head at first, finally managing to close their mouth to gulp before they began to answer him verbally.

“Look, I know you just, like, just put on the armor and everything, but Charon, I think… I think you’re gonna have to take it off.”

Lone’s eyes drifted hungirly over the ghoul��s large frame, the way the dark, freshly polished leather clung to his muscular form forcing a blushing heat to flush over their face.

He only scoffed at them, continuing his descent into the room to drop his bag by the door. Lone stood up abruptly from their place on the couch and turned to face their partner with a hard expression on their face.

“What? I’m not allowed to be attracted to my boyfriend?” Their hands came to their hips as their voice took on a distinct hardness that he was always trying to avoid.

That’s never a good sign. Charon thought with a frown.

“No need to act for my benefit.” He grumbled, “I’ve seen myself, Lone.”

He tried not to notice the way his partner flinched at his words.

They can’t be serious, what delusions do they think I’m under?

“Clearly not the way I have, then.” They said firmly as they took a step closer. Charon stood his ground as Lone approached him with slow intent, something unknown to him written in their expression.

“Forget what I said,” they continued, “No need to take off your armor.” He set his jaw as they gazed up at him, their hands brushing up over the leather on his chest until their fingertips grazed the skin of his neck.

“I’ll just do it for you.” They began to work at the fastenings of his armor, the metal buckles glinting in the low light that streamed through the meager windows of their Megaton house.

“Lone…”

“I want to show you. If you won’t listen to what I say, maybe what I do will have some influence on you.” Charon made no move to assist them as they began to pull the leather cuirass over his head, undoing the laces at his sides before reaching up as far as their arms would take them, the collar of the armor failing to come any further up than his jawline as they strained on their tiptoes. The ghoul sighed, ducking down to allow them to finally wrench the leather free of his bulky frame.

They set the piece on the couch with a huff, and despite his reservations, Charon took a few steps closer to them, his icy stare boring into his partner as they turned and knelt alluringly before him, their hands grazing up over his thighs as they moved to his center.

“Do you want this?” Lone brought their gaze up to him, fixing their partner with hooded eyes darkened with their lust for him, as their fingers rested delicately over his leather codpiece. Charon hardly had to think before responding hastily.

“Yes." He growled, "Show me.”

A relieved smile touched their lips, and they quickly turned their attention back to their work below his waist.

The ghoul's chest shuddered with anticipation as he felt the pressure release around his hips, fighting to hold back a groan as Lone meticulously removed each piece of polished leather he’d fastened onto himself not half an hour ago. When he was freed of his armor fully, standing before his partner in loose-fitting trousers and a black crew neck, Lone looked him over quickly from head to toe before descending upon him, delicate fingers moving hastily to pull his shirt from his sculpted torso.

This time, Charon did assist, lifting his arms and practically ripping the thing at the seams as he brought it over his head. Despite both of their haste, once he was free of the shirt, Lone paused, the palms of their hands warm against his chest where they rested with their fingers splayed, grasping slightly at the taut skin there. Their hands rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing, noticeably faster than usual, as his anticipation grew.

“You’re so handsome…” They let slip. It wasn’t more than a whisper, and Charon wasn’t sure whether they’d meant to say it aloud at all, but it escaped them nonetheless, as their transfixed stare grazed over his semi-bare form.

Whether they meant to voice the compliment or not, their words took Charon out of the moment, his smoky gaze sharpening within the confines of his narrowed eyes. He even let out another snort of disbelief that managed to catch Lone’s attention and draw their gaze to meet his own.

“Sorry, I just… I do mean it though. Not everyone may feel similarly, including yourself, and I don’t know that I can ever really change that, but Charon… I see you that way. The way you can’t seem to.”

Lone’s voice became desperate as their gaze fell to capture the movement of their fingers fidgeting over his skin, the digits absent-mindedly tracing over the rough grooves upon his ravaged chest with absolute care.

“It’s no lie, either." They whispered, "Not me trying to convince you otherwise, or make you feel better– well, if it makes you feel good, that’s good, and I want that, but that’s not the only thing I’m trying to do by saying– or, by complimenting you, I want you to–”

“Lone.”

One of Charon’s large hands closed around his partner’s shoulder, forcing their restless hands to cease their frenzied rubbing over him, and silencing Lone’s fragmented explanations.

Their eyes met his once more, glistening orbs of earnestness and desperation against cold, dark windows reflecting back their own form of desperation in turn.

Enough. He meant to say, but the vault dweller’s stubbornness in this matter left him no room to voice his concerns with their speech.

“Charon.” They said firmly, “Please don’t. Don’t shut out what I’m telling you. Even if you can never believe what I say for yourself, know that I believe it. I’m mad for you. All of you.”

Their voice lowered an octave at their final confession, and Lone surged forward, their hands grasping forcefully at his shoulders, and pulling his lips to theirs as they tasted him in earnest. Charon meant to say their name again, but all that escaped him was a groan as they crashed against him, the firmness of their insistent pressure a stark contrast from the pillowy softness of their lips.

They pulled away breathlessly before quickly moving their lips lower, the smooth petals of their mouth tickling against the sensitive skin of his neck, his collarbone, and chest.

“I’m mad for this.” They growled between fevered pecks, “And this, and here. All of it.”

Like the volts of a live wire, violent shudders shocked the ghoul’s spine as Lone’s lips and tongue delved lower, hastily passing over his ribcage, their nose tracing a teasing line down his center as they knelt down and settled their attentions just at his naval, hungry fingers finally releasing the pressure exerted on him by his own damned zipper, and the painfully tight fabric of his briefs.

“I’ll show you, my love. I’ll convince you to see yourself like I do. Whatever it takes.” They promised, and Charon’s neck arched as his head hung back in sheer bliss at their next heated action.

“Show me.” He groaned.

Gage:

“Will you cut that shit out? S’not funny, boss.”

“No, Gage. I really do. I know it’s not funny, I’m not fucking joking." Their eyes bore into his as they tilted their head towards him, their voice as desperate as it was irate, "I honestly don’t care about that patch, or how old you are, how bad you think you are, any of it. You’re good for me. You’re incredible. You're strong, and dependable, you make me smile and laugh, and–”

“Yeah, alright, I think you’ve had enough of that.”

One rough hand reached out to grab at the bottle in Sole’s hand, but they snatched it away before he could pull it from their grasp.

“Quit it, Gage! I’m your Overboss, and that’s an order. Now let me finish.”

Gage huffed and rolled his good eye, folding his arms over themselves gruffly as he leaned back against the worn couch cushions. Sole only shook their head, setting their bottle down on the side table and scooting closer to the raider. They placed a hand on his thigh and fixed him with an uncanny sort of look, depleted of their frustration with him, and full of something else entirely. Their muted smile and the gleam in their eyes made for an expression he’d only ever seen reserved for family members, for the closest of friends, or for… for lovers. His own eye narrowed suspiciously.

I know we’re together ‘n all, but… When has anyone looked at me that way before?

Whatever, must be whatever’s in that drink of theirs.

“Well, get on with it then, since you made such a fuckin’ fuss.” He growled. Sole only broadened their smile softly, their one hand increasing its pressure on his leg as they scooched even closer to him. Gage felt the heat of their body through the thin fabric of his trousers and wife-beater as they pressed closer to him, their free hand sliding up the swell of his chest to rest heavily on his shoulder as their lips met his in a brief kiss.

Gage only had an instant to close his eye, to savor them, before they withdrew, just far enough that the pair's contact was severed, but close enough still, that he could make out the distinct and enticing glisten of their lips.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

“What’s that?” He breathed.

“How much I care about you. How good you are for me. How attractive I find you. Even when I try to tell you.”

Sole’s hand moved downward to brush over his chest, feeling the play of muscle beneath his thin shirt as he threw his head back in a barely contained scoff.

“Yeah, alright there, Sole. Look, don’t feel like you’ve gotta say all this shit for my benefit. I’m a damn raider, I don’t need t’hear all that flowery, romantic sorta bullshit. I’m a sure thing, boss. I’m easy.”

As if to emphasize his point, one hand moved lower to grasp around the swell of Sole's hip firmly, pulling them closer, even as their expression hardened.

“You shouldn’t be.” They said firmly, their hand stilling over him.

Gage’s brow creased low over his eye as Sole pulled away from him roughly.

“You deserve a lot more than you give yourself credit for," they continued, "I don’t care what you think. You gave me a chance when no one else would. You've always got my back, you support me like nobody else has, and dammit, you deserve that same kind of dedication, Gage.”

His eye widened at their words, and the raider found himself at a loss for any kind of response.

I’m really not used to this kinda shit. What am I supposed to say to that?

Sole sighed at him, a sad smile touching their lips as they hesitantly reached both hands up to his face. Gage had to stop himself from flinching at their tender touch, but they held fast, palms warm against his cheeks as their eyes pleaded with him to just fucking believe what they told him.

Gage swallowed.

Slowly, their hands moved, and their fingers worked their way to the metal secured to his head, fidgeting with the fastenings there until he felt the entire piece loosen and give way.

“Sole, I don’t think–” He tried, but they silenced him with a look and a whisper.

“It’s okay. I want to see you.”

Gage took in a breath.

No. You don’t.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

He shook his head slightly, and Sole finally pulled the patch from his skin, and set it on the couch beside them. Gage’s jaw clenched as he flinched away, and his gaze flitted to everywhere but Sole, unnervingly afraid to see the repulsion on their face.

He felt their hands on him again, the soft skin caressing his cheeks, and he fought the urge to pull away as his heart increased its thumping in his chest. Gage closed his good eye, trying to turn his marred face away from his partner’s scrutinizing gaze, but their hands held his head firmly in place.

A brief moment of silence passed before Gage found himself jerking away involuntarily as the feeling of Sole’s… lips? He guessed, ghosted over the scarred flesh of his newly uncovered cheekbone.

“I meant what I said.” Their warm breath caressed his face as they spoke. “It’s not bullshit, and it’s not a lie.”

He released a sigh as he opened his good eye once again, the resistance and disbelief effectively gone from his exposed expression, if only just for this moment.

“I really do, Gage. I love you. And I love all of you.”

Gob:

“What do you mean?”

Gob paused, Lone’s voice clearly meeting his ears as he stepped outside the back door of Moriarty’s Saloon with two heavy trash bags in hand.

“Look hon, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, I’m just curious, that’s all.” The scent of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume drifted through the ghoul’s meager nose, even from where he stood behind the building, he knew it was Nova that Lone was speaking with.

Something in his head told him he should go out to greet them, but a gut feeling held him back, keeping him in place as he slowly set down the garbage bags and continued to listen in.

“It’s just that, well, Gob an’ me have been real close for a long time,” Nova’s silky voice continued, “An’ I’ve met lotsa folks you couldn't believe. Look at him like he’s some kinda novelty or somethin’, like the scumbags who look at me like a juicy slice of brahmin. I just wanna be sure you ain’t one of ‘em.”

The ghoul’s eyes widened as he listened in, his grip tightening on the metal jutting from the side of the building as he awaited Lone’s response.

Do I even really wanna hear it? A small voice asked in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away, instead leaning forward to hear what his partner had to say.

“You really think I could be like that?” Panic tightened their voice as it left their throat, less accusatory, and more fraught with worry than he would’ve expected. “Gob doesn’t think that way, does he?”

“No.” He whispered, shaking his head despite the fact that he was as good as alone on this side of the saloon.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Gob would never see the bad in you. That’s what he’s gotta have me for. Too many people try to take advantage of the poor guy. Like he hasn’t been through enough.”

He smiled sadly at that, silently thanking whoever it was in charge of his fate that he met Nova. Without her, well… Moriarty’s would’ve been all the more unbearable. He's not sure he would've made it this far without her, and now, if he didn't have Lone, if he somehow lost them...

Don't wanna even think about that. Maybe I should stop listenin' in, in case... What if they--

“I know.” Lone said, almost too quiet for him to hear, but loud enough to pull him from his troubling thoughts, “It’s true. Everything Gob’s been through… That’s one of the things that drew me to him from the start. All that Moriarty’s done to be cruel, to make his life hell, and he’s still so kind, so sweet and genuine.”

“Hm.” He heard his friend hum with approval at Lone’s declaration, and something tightened deep in Gob’s chest.

He held his breath as his partner's voice carried on.

“And so incredibly strong, to persevere through all of this, all that he’s been through for his long life, with Underworld, leaving it all behind and then coming to this, only to end up here. Still, selfish as it is, I'm glad he is here now. If I hadn't met him, I don't..."

Gob heard them chuckle, more a nervous sound then an amused one.

"I really don't want to think what it'd be like if I didn't have him, y'know? He really is incredible. One-of-a-kind out here, and in the vault. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

“You’re smiling real big when you talk about him, you know that?”

Gob grinned himself as he heard Lone’s giggle echo down into the town, the lovely sound fading with a sigh from them and a moment of silence that had Gob leaning in even further, very nearly exposing his hiding spot to the pair as his anticipation grew.

“... Well, what can I say? I love him.”

Gob's breath caught in his throat, and he tried desperately to keep from choking as his grip on the side of the building tightened painfully, his bony fingers digging into the metal with such force, he was liable to bend it.

Nova whistled long and low at that, the butt of her cigarette flying off the balcony as she turned to face Lone, and Gob shifted hastily back against the building once more, hoping he was still concealed.

“That’s quite the declaration there, hon. You tell him that?”

“Well, no, not quite… But I plan to, and soon, I think.”

“Hm. Just be careful. Dangerous thing to tell a man.” The door to the saloon creaked open as the sound of Nova’s voice shifted, “Though actually, since it’s Gob, I take it back. Lord knows he needs to hear that more than most. And from you? Poor guy won’t know what to do with himself.”

Lone laughed again, more genuine this time, less embarrassed, and Gob’s heart thudded hard against his ribcage, a feeling of chills erupting over his ruined skin as he tried in vain to keep his labored breathing quiet.

The door to the bar slammed to a close, jolting the wall Gob was still leaning against.

But he hardly even felt it.

They love me? Love?! H-how.. How can they? Why?

How could he possibly pretend he didn’t know what they’d said when he saw them next? Even now, he found it impossible to contain himself, his entire body vibrating with a giddy energy he didn’t even know he was capable of possessing.

Lone loves me.

Gob stood shakily from where he was kneeling beside the saloon, his mind going into overdrive as he realized Nova, and soon enough, Lone, would notice his absence in the bar. He turned back to the garbage bags, reaching for one as he took a step forward, but his foot caught on the first step up to the back door, and he fell forward, cringing less at the pain and more at the loud clang that rang out over the town as the better part of his body crashed into the metal building.

“Aw, dammit.” He grumbled, glancing over his shoulder rapidly in search of Lone.

The ghoul held still a moment, sighing in relief when he didn’t hear a sound beyond his own breathing. He stood up and brushed himself off brusquely.

Still need to get in there quick.

“Gob? What are you– Oh, are you okay?”

The ghoul’s blood ran cold.

“F-fine, Lone, I just– um…” He stuttered out as he turned to face them with a nervous smile.

Dammit, I was right.

The ghoul’s mouth refused to cooperate as his thoughts scattered in every direction at the sight of his partner.

Of the one who loved him.

He gulped.

“You didn’t hit your head, did you?” They asked, reaching a hand out as if to brush it over his head, but he shook his head firmly, stalling their movement.

“You look so… So red… Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He nodded to them, willing his body to cool down, willing his tongue to untangle, willing himself to meet their eyes, but he simply couldn’t.

“A-are you blushing? Sweetie, I didn’t know you could blush. What’s going on?”

Finally their hand met his face, and the world seemed to quit its confusing spinning, his heart stilled its frantic pounding, and he could finally meet their concerned gaze. His eyes were apologetic as he looked at them, swallowing hard as a few fragmented words began to creep into his mind.

“O-oh. Oh no.” Lone’s eyes widened, and Gob didn’t have to say a word. “No, you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t… You heard it?! How much did you hear?”

They pulled their hand away from him, their voice desperate and loud as they questioned him with panic etched all over their face.

Gob tried to stay calm, his skin feeling warmer than coals as the words of explanation formed on his tongue.

What if that does it? What if this is it? What if I just ruined this?

“Not, well, I don’t think, I just–” He stuttered out awkwardly, willing his voice not to crack with the fear he felt bubbling up in his chest, “Well, I don’t think that I heard all of it, but… Yeah, I did, ah, I heard that last part.” Gob’s head hung low at the end of his confession, as he saw the disappointment in Lone’s eyes.

Had they ever really planned on telling me? Were they just saying that to Nova, to make her feel better? Did they really even mean it?

“I’m so sorry, Lone.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” They told him gently, and he raised his eyes hesitantly to meet theirs.

“I just… I wish I could’ve told you in a different way. Made it really special.”

“It was. Lone, honey, it was special.” He said quickly, both of his hands reaching out to grasp one of Lone’s, before he even realized he was doing it.

“It means the world to me. Nobody’s ever- I mean, I haven’t ever- I just…” Their eyes shone as they waited for him to finish, and Gob took a deep breath.

“Lone,” He whispered, “I feel the same way.”

Hancock:

“Your eyes, John…”

“Hm?”

“Your eyes… They are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hancock smiled as his partner looked on, reverent in the haze of the Day Tripper they’d taken. They leaned forward from where they were seated, practically in his lap, with one hand against his chest, and fixed him with their appreciative, half-lidded gaze.

“My eyes are black, Sunshine.” He pecked their nose with his meager lips, taking full advantage of their close proximity to him. “And not kill the vibe or anything, but I think you’ve had enough of these for today.” His hand gently pulled the Day Tripper bottle away from their grasp, but his partner hardly seemed to notice.

“They are not ‘black’ in that dismissive way you just said they are." They pouted, "Your eyes… They don’t have color, really, but they have depth. Texture.”

“Uh huh.” Hancock tried to withhold the broad, toothy grin that threatened to spread across his lips as Sole looked at him in complete seriousness.

Damn, they’re cute.

He raised a hand to the side of their face, caressing it lovingly as one thumb stroked over the soft swell of their cheek.

But should I really have let them take two of those pills? Hm.

“They’re like space." Sole continued, one hand waving dramatically towards the sky at their declaration.

"Like galaxies and nebulae and a trillion twinkling stars. All wrapped up in a velvety, dark blanket. Not black, but like an inky fabric draping over itself, light catching at each fold, every angle. Full of life, and light, and emotion, and truth.”

“Sunshine, I don’t think–”

“Shhh.” They brought a finger to his ruined lips, nose nearly grazing the crevice where his once was as they leaned forward with a whisper. “Don’t interrupt, love.” Their lips followed the lead of their finger, brushing his in a light kiss before they pulled back again.

“I’m not nearly finished.”

Hancock’s apparently mesmerizing eyes widened as they fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze, blown-out pupils sliding their hazy vision over every line of his face, every wrinkle and fold, each scar, and all the complexities of his multi-colored complexion.

Though, as Hancock was much unused to, there was no judgment in their scrutiny. No disgust, no flinching or cringing, not even some morbid kinda curiosity he tended to see in some.

His face couldn’t be chalked up to mere flesh and blood in their eyes. They didn’t see the lines as he did. It was less of a physical entity, and more a mosaic of his person. His character.

In everything, Sole saw the way he had smiled all his life, the way he had frowned, all the speeches he’s given, the manner in which he once combed his hair, and in the way he moved differently once it was all gone.

Sole saw his childhood, the closeness with his family, and then the heart-wrenching pain as they were pulled away from him and made estranged. They could see the years of relentless abuse he’d wrought upon himself, before becoming who he was today. In the emotion written in his scars, they could see his failures, and in the glimmer of his eyes, his successes, and they told him as much.

All of it they said, not with so many words, as they formed and flitted away before their lips had a chance to speak them, but they spoke with their eyes, with their own emotion Hancock couldn’t help but read too deeply into. The intensity of it all forced his hand, inspired his mind to draw connections from nearly nothing at all. The dense subtleties and micro expressions any sane person may have failed to read into, but Hancock wasn’t sane.

He was in love.

And they were too. Of that, the ghoul had no doubt at all. He wasn’t even sure if he’d known that before this very moment. Sole had told him before, sure, but never like this. Saying everything without a voice to back it. The most honest of confessions, and he couldn’t help but confess right back.

“Damn, Sole…” He breathed over them, inspiring a blink of those brilliant eyes that broke the tension that had grown between them. “I’m so in love with you.”

To his surprise, his partner looked at him with a flash of disappointment.

“What is it, baby?”

“I haven’t even said anything yet. That was supposed to wait for the end.” They pouted rather dramatically.

“Aww, you didn’t hear all that? Everythin’ you just said? I heard it, loud and clear. No worries there. And no words needed, sunshine, trust me.”

“Hm.” They pursed their lips, unconvinced. “I think I’ve still gotta tell you anyways.”

“Sweetheat, there’s nothin’ I’d love more than to listen to your pretty voice sing praises to me all night long, but all that talk just about my eyes? I don’t think you’ll finish before the sun comes up.”

“If that’s how long it takes for you to quit making all those comments about your ‘ugly mug’ and ‘boring, black’ eyes, then so be it. We’ll be here all night, and into the next day, and all the night after. I’ll keep telling you next week, next month, years from now, when I’m old and wrinkled and a new civilization has risen from the ashes of this ruined world of ours, for this whole lifetime and any others that come along, I'll keep insisting, I’ll keep talking, and kissing, and touching, and loving you until you believe every word with every part of you. And I fucking mean it John Hancock, you know I do.”

Most of this talk was definitely the Day Tripper. Had to be. At least a little bit. Sole didn’t talk like this, didn’t make big confessions like this, didn’t command him to take their praise so adamantly, but still... every word rang true in their glazed-over eyes.

Whether they were foggy from the drug, or from their affection for him, Hancock didn’t completely know, but he did know that the words people spoke on Day Tripper tended to be true. It was one of the main reasons the drug was dangerous. It helps limit your inhibitions, makes confessions come easy, lessens your anxiety, makes the world seem more open and accepting to whatever strange, deep-rooted, or wholly secret confession your heart and mind held onto far away from the liberating threshold of your mouth. It’s why Hancock doesn’t usually do this one with friends, with people he doesn’t want to lose, with people he’s afraid to trust to stay in his life if they knew all the secrets of his past. He’d told Sole all of this, the dangers of these little pills, and yet, they’d still wanted to try it with him by their side.

“I do.” He rasped, the words making him shudder as he thought of what they might sound like in some other context, some other promise, down the line of his and Sole’s journey together.

If I should be so lucky they’d say yes to a promise like that. To a man like me gettin’ down on one knee and making a commitment more serious and binding than being Mayor of Goodneighbor.

Shit, and I would mean it just as much with them as I did with this town of mine. More so, even.

“I know you mean it, Sole. And I’m gonna really hold you to it one of these days.” He hinted with a half smile as he pressed his lips to their cheek and wrapped an arm around their shoulders tightly, until they yielded in their gathering exhaustion, falling back to rest against him, and sighing softly with sheer contentment.

“You’d better." They grumbled, "I’ll be waiting with bated breath.”

“Don’t you worry. You ain’t gonna have to wait too much longer.” They leaned their head against his shoulder, nuzzling into him a few times to get comfortable, and Hancock leaned back, his head resting against theirs as he took their hands in his, his midnight eyes falling to their left hand in particular as his fingers grazed over theirs in a delicate caress, and he daydreamed about the future he'd promised, and they'd promised him.

No. Not much longer at all…

Joshua:

“Joshua?” Your voice carried smoothly over the sand, through the hot, dry air. But Joshua didn’t stir, he didn’t even seem to register his name.

“You okay?” You pressed forward, craning your neck as you took a couple steps in his direction, trying to see what it was in the creek that had caught his attention so fully.

“Did you… find something?” You bent down as you reached Joshua’s side, noting the way his unblinking eyes seemed glued to… nothing. Nothing, but his own reflection, staring back with the same intensity.

The sand shifted beneath you as you settled by Joshua’s side. He noticed you, out of the corner of his eye, but remained silent.

What could he say?

How could he speak all that he was thinking, as he peered down at his scarred and bandaged face? Could he voice the way that he feels? So unworthy of your devotion to him, so confused as to why you stay by his side, so appreciative that you care for him the way you do, but so wholly afraid that if he speaks his fears, that they will come true. That, as soon as you come to your senses, as soon as the novelty of being with him fades, you will leave…

Who could love a face like mine? And more… Who could love the man that this face belongs to? A man who has done so much wrong, that his sins could only be absolved through the most violent forms of suffering? And even still… Am I truly free of them?

He did not feel it.

“I... am not worthy…” The missionary began quietly, and saw your head snap towards him as the words met your ears. “I am not worthy of even the least of all the deeds of steadfast love and all the faithfulness you have shown me.”

“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing as you shifted your body to face him, rather than the stream of water below.

“It’s a line from Genesis." He attempted to clarify, "Jacob is speaking to God, speaking to him of his own humility in response to the devotion that the Lord has shown him.”

Your brows didn’t unfurrow.

“And that… That has to do with…?”

“I’m not…” Joshua’s jaw clenched as his eyes finally left his own watery visage in favor of hiding behind his downed lids.

“I’m not sure why I said it. The quote just… came over me.” He lied, knowing full-well that the words had everything to do with you.

If I tell you that I feel unworthy of you, will that start something? Will that plant the idea in your mind that I don’t deserve you? Will you then act on that idea?

“Hey.”

He felt your touch upon his shoulder as your voice met his ears, it was light, but unyielding as your fingers clenched at the bandages insistently.

“You can talk to me.” You smiled as Joshua’s eyes opened and his gaze landed upon your face, and he wasn’t immune to it. Nor your words, and all that they promised.

Love rejoices with the truth.

“I’m humbled by you, Six. Humbled by the love you show me every day, and I feel… As Jacob did with the love of God. I feel unworthy of you.”

He felt your grip tighten upon his shoulder as sadness flooded your expression. It pained him to know he was the source of the strife he saw in your eyes.

“Sometimes it’s easy to forget who I am, what I’ve done… What I look like, when I’m beside you, but then, my reflection finds me. Then as I look upon your face, as I remember your deeds and your devotion to me, your kindness to others... I cannot help but feel confused.”

“Joshua, I–”

He continued insistently, his scarred brow hardening over the intense blue of his eyes as you saw them spark with fire from within.

“I have erred more times than I could possibly count, and yet, each is written upon me, like a shouted word, etched into my very skin for all the world to see. For all who gaze upon me to pity me and my failures, to hate my deeds and to agree that I am unworthy of compassion and repentance. That I am unworthy of happiness, and certainly, of love. They see you beside me, and they know, simply by seeing me, that I am unworthy of you.”

Joshua’s hand traveled slowly up to grasp at yours. Your eyes were wide and glistening as he gently took hold of you, and removed your touch from him.

The air was utterly caught in your throat as your partner released your hand from his grip and stood beside you, his gaze resting back on the reflection in the running water that marred his covered features even further with each ripple over the small, jagged river stones that weren’t yet smoothed over by the current.

“But it seems that you’ve failed to note this. Whether by choice, or simply because you are too righteous to see such things, you’ve still stood by me, even despite all that I’ve done, and that I am... I had to be sure you know the truth, Six. So that you can make your own decision about me, about our relationship… And you can find the words and inspiration you need to leave me behind, and to move on to better things. To be with someone who deserves you.”

And truth will set you free.

The thought sprung unbidden into Joshua's mind.

I don't feel free.

But perhaps... Perhaps, now, Six can.

Still, you sat in the sand, in shock at everything that had just left your partner, the man you love, and have loved happily for the months you’ve been together.

Where had it all come from?

One moment you’re making camp, waiting for Joshua to collect water, dusting off the fabric of your tent, laying out the bedrolls close enough to later rest in his embrace all through the night, and now he… what? Wants you to leave him?

What changed?

Joshua made a move to step away from you, to leave you kneeling there, alone, beside the river that had apparently inspired these harsh words that encouraged even harsher actions, but you would not stand for it.

You could not.

“I won’t leave you, Joshua.” You got to your feet as he paused his steps, and he tilted his head towards you, to better hear your words. To hear the justification that he was sure would be well-meant, but ultimately, unfounded.

“Why?” He whispered, and you got the sense that he was going to speak more, that he would continue monologuing until he convinced himself further that you do not belong with him, even when you know that, beyond all reason, you do.

“Because Joshua, because..." You took a breath as righteous words filled your mind, "'You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and… I love you.' That quote comes from the book of Isaiah. And it’s God speaking to Jacob, telling him that this is why men are worthy of him, and why, even if they’re not, they’re still deserving of unconditional love, even by one as divine and perfect as God.”

Joshua’s eyes were the ones widening now, and his body turned so that he could face you fully once again.

“Now, I’m not saying that I’m perfect, but… If God can stand to love you, if he can keep you here, after all you’ve been through, if he can promise you life, even after going through what should’ve meant your death tenfold, then can’t I do the same? Can’t I promise you a life with me, can’t I love and accept you for who you are, no matter what anyone else thinks?”

Joshua’s light eyes were glistening as they fixed on the sand below him, and you couldn’t help but step forward to try and draw his attention back to you.

I had to sit through your monologue of self-hatred. Now it’s your turn to listen to all the reasons your words were wrong.

I won’t have you tuning me out.

“After living a life so devoid of it, there’s no one I can think of who’s more worthy of love and compassion than you.”

You placed both hands on either side of his face, gently urging his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything you’ve done, Joshua… You’ve been made to pay for. Just as you said, it’s all written upon your body, but it’s here too.” You dragged one palm down to rest over his chest. It was warm to the touch, even through the layers of his bandages and clothes.

“And here.” The fingers of your other hand brushed over his temple, then his forehead.

“You’ve paid for it enough. With these horrible thoughts, these feelings of unworthiness plaguing you, every mark upon your skin, all the pain you feel every day. Trust me, my love, you've paid for it. Now… I think God and I both just want you to know peace.”

Joshua’s hands rose to delicately collect yours, to pull them down in between your bodies. But he didn’t release them from his grasp this time, only held them there, embracing you as much as he could allow himself as his mind still swirled with turmoil.

“But why?" He asked, "You don’t have to be with me. No one is requiring it of you; and with another, everything would be so much easier. You could be happy… Happier than I can make you.”

“Why you?” You almost laughed at him, it seemed so obvious within the confines of your own mind, the mind that was almost always occupied with thoughts of him only. “I love you, Joshua. I love how you speak to me, how you respect me and want me in your life. I love that I’m able to help you, but you… You’ve helped me more than I think you know.”

“How?” His voice was so desperate for an answer, it was almost demanding.

“Ever since I woke up from that grave… I didn’t really have a purpose. I didn’t know who I was, didn’t have anyone in my life to turn to, I didn’t have a path... but you gave me one. With you, I could help people in ways I never imagined. You were always so sure of your own path, that it inspired me to be sure of it too. To become a part of your path.”

You could feel your hands shaking where he held them between you. Your whole body was trembling with insistence, begging him to take your words to heart.

Everything about this night that the two of you were sharing once pointed to normalcy. Making camp, divvying out duties, feeling the warmth of the fire against the cool desert air, hearing the wind sweep over the dunes of sand; it was like so many other nights spent with one another. You hadn’t expected to have this conversation, hadn’t thought you’d be fighting tooth and nail to get your partner to understand how deeply you cared for him, how much you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him, let alone ever consider it without his knowledge. But it was happening, and now this night was so much more important than all those others, because if you fail… It could be the end of all of this. This bliss that you’ve taken for granted.

You’d survived without him for months before you ever met him, you could find happiness without Joshua, you knew that, but… With him, you didn’t have to look for happiness. With him, it surrounded you.

“You have made my heart beat faster with a single glance of your eyes,” You said quietly, and even with the linen wraps covering Joshua's visage, you could see the way he softened at your words. “You made me love you more with every word you spoke. I can’t imagine who I’d be now without you, and I don’t want to.”

Your hands tightened within his grasp, and you pulled his body closer to yours as your eyes stayed locked to his mesmerizing gaze.

“Darling… in all my life, I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you. Believe me.”

You insisted, and then you leaned forward even further, and kissed him.

The thin linen obstructed you a bit, but it didn’t matter. You could feel the heat of him through it, sense the shape of his lips as they moved against yours, as they relented to your touch, and to your words. As he let you love him.

Joshua’s hands released yours, allowing you to press yourself closer to him as you felt his touch upon your hip, and around the nape of your neck. In the same movement, your arms smoothed over his chest to grasp at his shoulders. He took a deep breath in through his nose, as though he’d been devoid of oxygen until you pressed yourself to him, and you felt the warm puff of air pass through his bandages and caress your face as he exhaled. Subtly, you could taste him through the barrier, the sweetness of cactus fruit, and the tartness of the healing powder he mixed into the water he drank. You sighed into him at the familiarity of it all. His touch, his taste, his burning warmth that sometimes felt unnaturally hot. Enough so, even, that it could scar you in return.

And though it never had, Joshua hadn’t ever left any physical blemishes upon your skin from his touch, from his love of you, you were certain that you hadn’t gone completely unmarked by him. Like the words he spoke, like the thoughts and actions he inspired, like the emotions that surrounded him in your mind, his mark was within you. And all of that, all of his influence, his own love for you in return, that you felt was as permanent as any scar left upon his own skin.

“Thank you,” You felt Joshua whisper against you as you parted, but remained pressed to one another. “Thank you, Six, for all that you have given me. I… I still do not feel worthy of it, but, I will do what I can to change that. No matter how long it takes.”

“Mm.” You hummed, a grin touching your lips as you pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes, soaking in the simple feel of him. “And I’ll be right here. Right beside you, all the way.”

You felt the outline of his own smile as Joshua leaned forward, and captured your lips with his once again.

Raul:

Raul ran a roughened hand over the smooth surface of the wood, a half smile plastered to his lips as he sampled his own work. He gave the record player console table a satisfied nod as he overlooked the polished wood and properly set needle. There weren’t too many records left standing after all was said and done with those bombs so long ago, but still, what he and Six could find, they could now enjoy, and quite stylishly, he’d say.

You liked these ones, huh? He remembered his partner asking as they held up a pair of record sleeves in an old run down shop near the strip. Dean Martin and Perez Prado… Oh, Raul knew them alright. Then we’ll have to find a way to listen to it one day, won’t we? You could teach me how to mambo.

Though the thought made Raul chuckle at the time, the idea picked at his brain for days after, and this became his project. When Six told him they’d be gone for a few days, running some mission with Arcade, he’d taken that as his opportunity to finally finish it.

A click of a door lock sounded behind him, and the ghoul turned in time to see his companion enter the room, their face lighting up, first, at the sight of him, and then that of the table and set of tools beside him.

“Hey! It’s so good to see– Oh. Oh my god. Raul, did you… Did you make this?” They stopped briefly beside him to slide a hand over his shoulder, but ultimately, passed him completely as they were taken by the sight of his handiwork.

“Nah, boss.” He fibbed, “Some crows flew by and dropped it right out of the sky outside the casino. Think they were takin’ it to their nest.”

Six looked back at him with scrunched brows, even as they kept one hand glued to the glossy surface of the table.

“But the birds never came back for it. So, I figured it’d be fair game. Thought it looked nicer in here than on the curb, anyway.”

His companion walked forward with a smile, shoving him playfully with one arm.

“What? You think I’m lying? They were big crows, boss. Guess they like music.”

“Yeah, guess so.” They shook their head at him, and Raul couldn’t deny the grin that spread across his face, crinkling his dark eyes and making them shine with mirth.

“It really is gorgeous though, Raul. You’re not just a handyman, you’re a craftsman. An artist. And you never told me.” The ghoul didn’t know really what to say to that, he’d never really thought of himself that way before.

An artist, eh?

“This detail is just incredible.” Six continued to regard the piece of furniture with awe as they lay their head against his shoulder, and grasped one of his hands in theirs.

“It’s just a table, boss.”

“It is not.” They pulled away abruptly, looking him hard in the eye, “It’s a beautiful table. And a record player! Are you kidding me, Raul? This is amazing. You’re amazing.”

Something tightened in the ghoul’s chest at his partner’s insistence, but before he could respond to them properly, they were pulling away, turning back to the table with intent.

“Now, let’s hear how she sounds, shall we?”

Six knelt to inspect the full shelf below the record player, stuffed with the vinyls they had both collected, but never had the chance to play.

“It’s really no big deal.” Raul insisted, still hung up on his partner’s generous praise. “You were gone for a whole week, mi amado, I had time, that’s all.”

Their hand floated by the albums slowly as they inspected the titles, finally pausing when they reached that first one they had found all those months ago, and they pulled it free. Six turned back to him as they slid the record from its sleeve and prepared to play it.

“Even if I had a hundred years I could never make something like this.”

“But I had two hundred. Remember? I've been around a long time.” Six rolled their eyes at that, and though their grin persisted, there was more than just amusement at the root of their expression.

“Whatever, even two hundred, and I could never do something even close to this. You’re incredible.”

“You said that already, boss.”

Before they could drop the needle down onto the record, they turned to face their partner, a prevalent fire blazing in their irises that Raul couldn’t fail to notice, even from the other side of the room.

“Well, I mean it! You are. And not just at this. You don’t give yourself enough credit, Raul."

The ghoul's smile perked up at that, and suddenly he wanted to move, to reach out to his partner and show them his appreciation for their words, but something kept him rooted where he was standing. There was a tightness in his chest that seemed to hold him in place. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him this way, even if it was with so much aggression.

“I’m not your partner because of your handiwork, you know." They stepped towards him as they spoke, only halting when they were at a point where they could wrap their arms up and around his shoulders to meet his gaze properly.

"I’m with you because I love being around you. You make me so happy, I couldn’t imagine not having you in my life. Even just this one week apart made me realize how much I love being with you, even when we just walk beside each other, when we just talk. The things you say…" One hand came up to stroke over Raul's cheek, their thumb running smoothly over his roughened skin.

"You always make me laugh, or blush, and the way you look at me… Don’t you notice when I look at you too?”

“No I… I guess I never did." He stuttered, "I didn’t think…”

I didn’t think anyone could ever look at me the way I look at you.

“I don’t know, amor.” He said, resignation plain on his face as the words left him with a sigh.

“Well, then I guess I need to make it more obvious.” Six smirked, and Raul felt a rush of heat wash over him, even as his partner backed away from him, back to the table. To his surprise, they didn’t reach for the needle of the record player, but for the flat bit of the table beside it.

“So, this part? What’s this for?” They asked as they ran a hand over the smooth wood.

“‘S just the table part." He shrugged, "Could put your drinks on it, or something, no sé.”

Raul rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, feeling as though he just got whiplash.

How can they just say all that? An' then go back to this? To the table? Ay, ellos me vuelven loco.

Six considered the surface further, reaching both hands to press down on it firmly. Raul narrowed his eyes.

“Drinks’r not normally that heavy, Six.”

“I wasn’t thinking about drinks… Why don’t you come here?”

With the way their voice dropped at their request, Six didn’t need to ask him twice. Raul took the few steps forwards as his partner hopped up onto the table, their legs dangling down and feet grazing the floor as they leaned forward.

Raul kept moving towards them, filling the space between their opened legs with his hips as their arms slid over his chest, clasping tightly around the back of his neck.

“Think it’ll hold me?” They whispered with a smile and a raised brow, their firm hold only pulling him closer with the barest hint of pressure.

“Hmm… Depends.” He whispered, as he relented, leaning in close.

“On?”

“On how much we do.” Raul practically growled as he lost himself in his partner’s alluring gaze, their want for him seeping through every brush of their lips against his, the truth in their words of praise evident in the way their hands grazed over the nape of his neck, over his chest, tugging impatiently at the fabric of his jumpsuit; and in their eyes, closed tightly in pleasure and bliss, and opening only to look at him in a way he’s never been looked at before.

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ifuckingloveryoshu · 2 months

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Hi I saw ur tags on my posts lol 🔥😭😭 thank you so much for liking my ryoshu and oc arts, but can I ask where did the name of yuzuki for ryoshu's daughter came from? I don't think hell screen mentioned her name?

Thank you for helping me get up this morning. Very short tldr but vauge answer: Hell Screen has been translated and adapted enough you could have read the a translation that keeps called Yoshihide's daughter, "Yoshihide's daughter"

If you read the Little Penguins Books Publishing, they did not use Yuzuki as the name from what I can see, but Yuzuki exist somewhere.

Lazily doing a half-baked investigation under read more.

I will never claim to know anything about translation and I had too little sleep to do things today. I'm also broke so I can't go cross refrence evey translation and adaptation of Hell Screen. I hope someone better than I can could look into this or help out. Ill come back to this maybe

This is absolutly not how you do research or go off of things but Penguin Publishing version reviews don't use the Yuzuki name so I'm thinking they don't use her name there. The Jay Rubin Translation doesn't use Yuzuki. I say that because I'm re-listening to this while cross refrencing a pdf I found. Im guessing their one in the same.

This archeologist/writer named matthewrettino uses Yuzuki when talking about Hell Screen

Haunted Places Ghost Stories did a reading on this and unrelated but they pronounce Monkehide how an american would so its, "MONKEY HIDE." But anyway, they use it. They just spell it liker Uzuki

Portrait of Hell or Jingokuhen make Yoshihide Korean, apparently. I wanted to put that here, it''s not really important, just an example of an adaptation changing something. You have a story for so long and things get changed.

It's part of human history and how we tell stories, we like adapting things and giving thigs new meaning just like Ryoshu. She's not named Yoshihide but we're all thinking, "Yeah, she's Yoshihide, she likes art, she has fire, shes sadistic, that's Yoshihide." But she's not an old man, Yoshihide never spoke in acronyms, Yoshihide's not a woman. Jesus Christ was never white. He was born in Jerusulm in a dessert, it would be strange if he was white. Most people living in the middle east and closer to the sun normally have darker skin because they have more melanin in their skin to protect from the sun. The image has been passed around so much that, at least in our Eurocentric culture, I can't find the word for it, Jesus is commonly depicted as white. Yuzuki could have never had the name in the original language, or the inverse, she could have had a name but time let it go through the skin of its fingers and it was lost to oblivion. We just need to rediscover where it's orgin came from.

Meme - A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another

The name Yuzuki might as well be a meme. If it wasn't in the orginal version of Hell Screen, it just exist now. That's why people are like, "Yuzuki, that's the name of Yoshihide's daughter. That sounds right!" Because idea's spread from text, imagry, music notes, whatever you have come to life like a spark of flame from a lighter and drift off from its starting point. The co2 particles relase into the air and up to the clouds, and when enough people emmit co2 at a rate thats unsustantable for our planet, big things happen. Really big things happen. Or you just scream so loud that no one hears you and much like the effects of smoking, damage your lungs.

I hope it doesn't feel like I'm pulling stuff out of my ass. I'll come back to this and when I have a solid answer, i'll tell you or reblog this. No worries.

#thoughts about ryoshu #ryoshu posting #hell screen mention #ask #never take what anyone says at face value #esspecially when they don't cite their sources #even if they sound smart #EVEN THEN you need to go into those sources yourself and read them #interpret them yourself #be good #i don't mean this as a buzz word but use your critical thinking skills #im a community college student and a ryoshu obsessed person i shouldn't be your source for knowledge #thank you for the ask! i love ask just as much as I love ryoshu

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quirkless-accident · 2 years

Text

Loud Mouth

I can't remember if someone suggested this or not, but I can't get the thought of how Present Mic would react to Danny's Ghostly Wail out of my head. Perhaps he's fighting another ghost and a literal screaming contest ensues? Danny getting worked up over something, while under a lot of pressure and just stressed out, and accidentally slipping into a Ghostly Wail as he screams. The potential panic and embarrassment from Danny realizing what he just did. Then the bonding potential between the two because of the similarities between their powers in that regard.

(Please feel free to censor my name, I can't ask anonymously. Thanks!)

---------

Danny's never been known to back down from a challenge. Even a self-inflicted one. All of his friends knew it. All of his teachers knew it. So it was no surprise that Danny was found in one of the gyms, just minutes before curfew.

He was working on a form they had been shown in class and it just wasn't clicking. And on top of that he was stressed out about their upcoming exams-especially for Cementoss' class, considering Literature has never been his strong suit.

He had a pair of headphones on, and because of that he didn't hear it when the door opened. He didn't hear the footsteps behind him, as he tripped up in the form again.

He didn't hear the newcomer as he threw off his headphones and yelled out in frustration. His power ripped itself from his throat, shattering the wall of mirrors and sending most of the heavy equipment flying into the walls.

He stood there, frustrated as he looked at the destruction he accidentally caused. Why did his throat hurt? Was this a new power? Why did he suddenly feel like crying?

"Those are quite the pipes you got there, Listener."

Danny whirled around, only to see Present Mic. He looked a little surprised, and with his tilted sunglasses it might have even been a little funny. But Danny was frustrated beyond belief, and he had just caused a lot of damage to school property.

And in his experience, that kind of thing never ended well. Not with teachers.

He quickly bowed at the waist, a stream of apologies slipping from his lips. He expected a verbal lashing. And, maybe, a small, small part of him expected a physical one, too. It had only happened once, but it was enough to make him warry of it happening every time. Even from teachers who were heroes, because at the end of the day they were still teachers.

"No sweat, Listener," Mic said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and bringing him out of his bow. "It happens more often than you think. Besides, it doesn't really look like this," he looked at the destruction of the room, "was on purpose."

"Still-I'm sorry. I don't-I don't know what that was. That's never happened before."

Danny was, admittedly, a little scared. He's knows for a fact he didn't have any ghost powers that could cause this kind of destruction. Not with such little effort, anyway. And usually there were scorch marks littered along the broken pieces. But here, there were none. And it wasn't making sense. And he was kind of scared.

""That's okay," Mic said softly, looking down at him. It was weird seeing his usually high-energy teacher be so calm about this kind of thing. "It just looks like a new part of your quirk has been unlocked. And from the looks of it, it's your voice. Does your throat hurt?"

It did, as a matter of fact. He hadn't noticed until mic had asked, but now that he was paying attention to it the pain was almost unbearable. So he nodded instead of trying to speak again, and Mic gave him a knowing smile.

"Elm tea will help with the soreness. If it still hurts in the morning then I would see Recovery Girl. And I'll talk to Eraser about setting up some private lessons with me, if you want. This kind of power can be really destructive, ya dig? It's important to learn how to control it. Especially if we're frustrated."

It was a lot of information, and Mic must have known that, because instead of trying to overload him some more he placed a firm hand on his back and led him out of the gym.

--------

When he walked into class the next day, Aizawa pulled him to the side.

"If you want to train with Mic with this new power than meet him at Ground Omega after school today," he said. "Also, these are from him," he handed Danny a box. It was a new pair of headphones, since he had apparently destroyed his other pair last night in his burst of frustration. But before he could even begin to process that, there was a warm, firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Aizawa, who suddenly had a soft look on his face. "It's important to take breaks every once in a while," he said. "And it's even more important to ask for help."

It was a clear message, and Danny couldn't help but duck his head with a quiet, "Yes, sir." Aizawa nodded and let him go to his desk. And at lunch, he tested out the new headphones Mic had given him.

They were perfect.

--------

He trained with Mic after school three days a week. He didn't want to strain his voice, which was already sounding a little more rough. Right now, he was at the all or nothing point with this new power, and it was leaving him more than a little exhausted. But Mic told him that when he first got his quirk, that's how it was for him, too.

Of course, there are a few differences between the powers. No two quirks are the same, after all. For instance, while Mic could go crazy high of crazy low with his pitches, Danny could really only do one. It was devastatingly powerful-even more so than Mic's when he went all out. And man, wasn't that a crazy thought. That one of his minor powers was stronger than a whole pro hero.

On the days they didn't practice with their voices, Mid taught him JSL. Mic's quirk made him hard of hearing, which wasn't a big surprise. Most people with quirks like this often were. But since Danny was practicing with it a lot more, it was important for him to learn as well, just in case his hearing ever got shot. Plus it was just a nice skill to have, especially with scared civilians and angry Pomeranians he shared a floor with in the dorms.

It was all enough to take his mind off of the stressful part of their exams, and he ended up passing his literature one with a decent score. That dumb form he had been so frustrated with had been quickly tamed, and now he was onto the next one. And he owed all of it to Mic, because now, when talking got to be too much, he could just sign.

And if he was feeling overwhelmed, he could just put on his new headphones and ground himself once more.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #hizashi yamada #present mic #presentation michael #bnha #mha #boku no academia #my hero academia #dadmic #dad mic

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Lucky in Love

Pairing: poly!Dream Team x gn!reader

Summary: [Soulmate!AU] It’s one thing to meet your soulmate in a lottery, and another to have more than just one. But when you end up winning Dream’s Minecraft Manhunt raffle, you find your world turning upside down in ways you least expect.

Word Count: 9.9k

A/N: behold, my first commissioned story! this story has been altered from it’s original form so everyone can read it, but the majority of the plot and writing remain the same. i had a lot of fun writing it, and i hope you all like it! <3

You stumbled into your bedroom with a yelp, your thumb flying across your phone screen to the home button and pressing gently. With a gleam, the time flashed back at you, and your eyes shot wide open.

You were going to be late.

Leaning forward on one leg, you pushed the door behind you shut with your foot, bouncing forward as soon as you heard it click shut. Your eyes swept across the room, your gaze catching on a swath of black cloth sitting at the foot of your bed. With a quirk of your lips, you tugged the shirt off the mattress before turning on your heel. Darting to the other side of the room, you easily settled back into your desk chair and let the shirt drop onto your thighs.

Grabbing your mouse, you moved your cursor to the YouTube bookmark at the top of your screen, your computer screen instantaneously flooding with light. You scrolled over to the left side of your screen, your mouse hovering over a familiar green icon before clicking, a new box popping into view.

Stream starting in 60... 59... 58... 57...

You felt your lungs tighten within your rib cage, your toes curling ever so slightly into the floor. It had been a nerve-wracking month of waiting and pacing, crossing each day off the calendar with an anxious grin. You almost couldn’t believe that the day had finally arrived. Letting out one last breath, you leaned forward, the t-shirt feeling heavy in your lap.

3... 2... 1...

All of a sudden, the screen went dark. Your reflection stared back at you from the dim screen, your excited eyes peering back at yourself with a curious glint. Reaching up, you brush an unkempt lock of hair away from your forehead, just in time for two familiar faces and a lime green icon to appear.

The Dream Team.

“Hey, guys!” Dream said, his voice sounding like a breath of fresh air. “How are you all doing?”

A flurry of hearts flew across the live chat screen, the lines moving by so quickly that you couldn’t tell when one message ended and another started. Practically bouncing in your seat, you couldn’t help the smile that skittered across your cheeks.

“Good,” you whispered aloud to yourself in the quiet of your room. You knew that they couldn’t hear you when you talked like that, that they wouldn’t know you had even replied at all, but it made their streams feel a little more lively nonetheless.

After a brief pause, Dream’s voice filtered through the air once more, just as bright and eager as it was earlier. “Good? I hope the answer is good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart flipping in your chest as your fingers curled into the shirt in your lap. That sort of thing happened sometimes: a streamer would say something and your verbal response almost made it feel like they were actually holding a conversation, like they were actually with you right now. These sorts of things were always a coincidence, but when everything in your world was connected by fate, sometimes you let yourself be a little hopeful, let yourself imagine that maybe it wasn’t dumb luck—that maybe it actually meant something.

Hell, maybe it meant you could be soulmates.

Soulmates were a tricky thing to think about, really, even if everyone knew they existed and that one day, they would meet theirs. No one could pinpoint when exactly soulmates came to be, but no one rejected their presence either way. It wasn’t like they wanted to, anyways. To have a person who was perfect for you linked to you by the universe—it was no wonder people were more than pleased to discover they weren’t just some old lover’s tale.

But even then, some were skeptics. How would you really know when you had found your soulmate? What if you missed them by accident? For you at least, you already knew what it would feel like. You couldn’t count just how many times you had asked your mother that very question, but you could practically rattle off her words by heart.

“You’ll know exactly when it happens, I promise, sweetie,” she would murmur, stroking your head with a gentle hum and soft eyes. “When you first touch, it feels like... like you’ve been struck by lightning, and you’ll be tingly all over. Something inside you just sort of clicks when you look at them, and you’ll just—you’ll feel it right here.” She tapped her finger over your heart, a wistful expression settling across her face. “It’s... it’s magical, and you’ll never forget that feeling—not for the rest of your life.”

The smile that would tug on your mother’s lips made you all the more hopeful, a heavy yearning settling deep into the crevices of your heart as the years went by. Even now, as you sat watching Sapnap and George bicker with each other while Dream chimed in with a snarky remark, you felt that same fleeting hope rising up in your chest, warm and soft.

Maybe—just maybe—they might be your soulmates.

Not that they actually were, of course. You knew better than to get your hopes too high.

But as you watched Sapnap’s lean a little closer to his camera and listened to George’s breathy laugh, you felt your heart swell the tiniest bit.

Connected by fate or not, these boys were special to you, even if you had never met.

Sapnap blinked as his eyes darted across his monitor, raising his eyebrows with surprise as he let out a short whistle. “Oh, wow, we’re pulling... holy crap—over seven hundred thousand viewers, right now.” You could vaguely hear the scrolling of his mouse, his lips twitching. “Everyone sounds so excited in chat, too.”

George’s eyebrow quirked. “I mean, of course they are. Manhunts are loads of fun—who wouldn’t want to be a part of them?”

Sapnap’s face split into a teasing grin, and he leaned back in his chair. “Ooh, you sure sound cocky, George.”

George blinked once, then scowled. “Wha—shut up, it’s true! Why else would there be so many people here?”

A devilish gleam flickered across Sapnap’s gaze. “To see your pretty face, maybe.”

George’s frown deepened, his eyebrows knitting together into a glower. “Sapnap, you—”

“Look, look,” he cried, wagging his finger at his monitor, “even chat agrees!” His lips curled up into a smirk, mischievous and amused all at once. “You’re not gonna say chat is wrong, are you, Gogy?”

You could have sworn a hint of rose flushed across George’s cheeks as he averted his gaze from his camera, his voice coming out softer than before. “W-Well, I—”

“Boys, boys,” Dream suddenly cut in, George’s words trailing off in an instant. Despite the firmness of his words, there was an amused lilt to his tone, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re both pretty, alright, but can we please move on? I bet everyone’s dying to know who won.”

George opened his mouth, then let out a sigh, shaking his head with a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “You know what, Dream’s right. Let’s move on.”

Sapnap snickered on his side of the screen, still grinning widely. “You just can’t handle the truth.”

George groaned, deadpanning into the camera. “We are not starting this, again.”

Sapnap smiled, but didn’t get to speak before Dream cut him off. “You’re right,” he said, sounding a tad more hurried than before, “we’re not, because I’ve got the results, right here.”

You suddenly sat up, your heart stuttering. That same spark of hope fluttered up between your lungs, and you found yourself shuffling your chair forward, squinting in anticipation. Curiosity quivered around the edges of your mind, a certain eagerness pawing at your side as you watched a white pop-up fill the stream.

Everybody had an equal chance of winning—you knew that. That everyone may include you, but it also included every other person who bought one of those shirts. It didn’t take a genius to know that you weren't going to win. After all, not everything was guaranteed like having a soulmate was.

“And,” Dream began, dramatic and slow, “our winner is...”

You squeezed your hands, clasping your palms together with a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

“...shirt number 267815!”

You blinked, your brows furrowing together. That number sounded... oddly familiar. Your eyes flickered down to the shirt in your lap, the white tag peeking back up at you.

It couldn’t be.

All of a sudden, Dream’s voice rang through the air once more, sounding even clearer than ever before.

“Oh, and the name connected to the shirt is... [Y/N]!”

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your eyes shooting wide open as your jaw dropped.

I... won?

You gaped at your screen, only half-registering the sight of Sapnap and George clapping. The chat had become a blur of words you couldn’t bring yourself to read, your vision growing hazy and unfocused with shock. I must look crazy right now, you thought to yourself distantly, rubbing at your face. This can’t be real.

George’s gaze locked directly onto the camera, and for a second, it almost felt like he was speaking directly to you. “Congratulations, [Y/N]!” He wrinkled his nose with an apologetic smile. “I hope I’m saying that, right. If I’m wrong, please tell me.”

Sapnap chuckled, shooting him a devious grin. “Knowing George, he’s probably wrong.”

Your lips twitched at the frown that flitted across George’s face before Dream took over again. “Ignore them—they’re being dumb.” Before either of them could protest, he quickly added, “Anyways, welcome to Minecraft Manhunt! We’re looking forward to meeting you. We’ll send you an email soon, and you can give us some more info there.”

You nodded at your monitor, your lips still parted in surprise. “We’ll be ending the stream now,” Dream continued, “but thanks so much for everyone else who participated. Your love and support mean the world to us!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and it sent a rush of warmth shooting down your spine. “[Y/N],” he murmured, suddenly sounding soft, “we’ll see you soon.”

As George and Sapnap waved one last time at their cameras with excited grins, you swallowed. Your heart rattled in your chest as the screen faded back to black, and you found yourself sitting face-to-face with your reflection once more.

You were right—you looked just as dumbfounded as you felt.

Slowly, you closed your mouth, lowering your gaze to the shirt in your lap. The axe that was laid out across your thighs somehow seemed brighter than it did before, almost as if someone had painted over it with a newer, shinier layer of white.

Lifting the shirt to your chest, you felt a wide grin tug at your lips—wider than any grin you had ever smiled before.

Maybe you were luckier than you thought.

Your finger hovered over the left button of your mouse, your breaths coming out shaky and short as they pumped through your lungs. The Discord call already had three icons waiting for you, and all you had to do was click to join them.

Breathe, [Y/N]. You’re only about to talk to three of your favourite content creators on the planet. It’ll be easy.

You paused, listening to the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone.

A groan rose in the back of your throat, and you hung your head in your hands for a long moment. “C’mon,” you whispered to yourself. “You can’t keep them waiting forever.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, then lifted your head, nodding once, then twice. Yes, okay—calm. I can be calm. Your finger twitched. Let’s do this.

Your hand reached back for your mouse, the cool plastic melding against your skin as your cursor hovered back over the call. Squeezing your eyes shut for just a second, you let your finger press down, a familiar ping echoing through your headphones. There was a beat of silence. Then, someone spoke.

“Hi! Hello!”

You jumped at that sound of Dream’s voice, your heart skipping a beat as you quickly reoriented yourself again. “H-Hi, there,” you said as calmly as you could muster.

“It’s nice to meet you, [Y/N]! I’m Dream.” There was a slight pause, then he added hesitantly, “Did I say that right, by the way? Your name, I mean.”

Your lips curled up into a smile, and you felt the tension seep out of your shoulders. “Yes, you got it right.”

You could almost imagine him grinning to himself triumphantly. “Perfect.”

A new voice suddenly jumped in, just as eager as Dream’s. “Don’t steal the spotlight already, Dream,” Sapnap whined, his icon flashing green. “There’s three of us, not just you.” Ignoring Dream’s quiet apology, he quickly moved on. “I’m Sapnap—it’s great to have you here.”

“And I’m George,” another voice added, his prominent accent sounding like honey in your ears.

Every ounce of anxiety you had been feeling earlier felt so far away now, their voices carrying your worries off over the horizon. “It’s nice to meet you all, too. My name’s [Y/N], but you already know who I am, don’t you?”

“Well,” George said, drawing out the vowel, “we may know a few things about you, but we don’t really know who you are—that’s something we want to hear from you.”

Sapnap made a noise of confirmation, his mouth moving at lightning speed as he suddenly began to fire off question after question. “Yeah, like, what’s your favourite flower? Or season? Which one of us do you think is the most handsome? Ooh, what about—”

“Woah, woah,” Dream cut in, wheezing ever so slightly, “one thing at a time, to start. Let them breathe, at least!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the hints of laughter tinting his voice. “It’s okay!” you said, your lips splitting into a crooked grin. “Although I don’t know if I can answer those questions.”

George let out a confused noise. “No? Why not?”

You hummed, swinging your legs around your chair. “Like for my favourite flower, I think they’re all really pretty and look nice, in their own little ways. Same thing for seasons.” You chuckled. “I’m too indecisive to pick just one.”

“But who do you think is the most handsome out of the three of us?” Sapnap prodded, excitement seeping into his tone. “It’s definitely me, right? Come on.”

“Hey,” George suddenly quipped, rushing through his words, “no flirting yet! We only just met!”

There was a brief second of silence. “I mean, isn’t that technically the best time to start flirting?”

“Sapnap.”

“Fine,” Sapnap sighed. You could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Friends first, flirting later.” You were about to breathe a sigh of relief when he added, “Carry on, though. I still want to hear your answer.”

Chewing on your lip, you stiffened, drumming your fingers against the side of your keyboard. “I’m telling you,” you sighed after a long moment, “I really don’t think I can pick. As a matter of fact,” you pointed out, raising a finger. “I don’t even know what one of you looks like.”

Now, it was Dream’s turn to speak up. “Then, talk about attractiveness, in general. It doesn’t just have to be about looks.”

You froze, your posture going rigid. Attractiveness in general…?

How could you possibly encapsulate their attractiveness just like that? Dream was so incredibly clever, and you loved to hear him talk about his passions. George was smarter than he let on, and you could see it in the way he coded their videos, working relentlessly to make them work. Sapnap was beyond affectionate, and just hearing him share his affection with those around him made your stomach melt. They were just handing you a recipe for disaster with a question like this, you knew it.

“This question is impossible,” you blurted, a gentle panic seeping into your tone. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned closer to your mic, adding with a teasing lilt, “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t,” Dream hummed, chuckling at the small whine that escaped your lips. “Either way, it’s cute to hear you struggle.”

Your breath suddenly hitched in your throat, but Sapnap was quick to leap forward. “Hey, what did we say about no flirting?”

Another beat of silence. “Killjoy.”

“Okay, moving on from that,” George said, quickly diverting topics, “how are you feeling, [Y/N]? Are you looking forward to the manhunt?”

You looked back at the call, your eyes locking onto the three Discord icons sitting next to your own. “Yes,” you admitted, “but I’m also very, very nervous.”

“Nervous?” Dream repeated slowly.

“Nervous,” you said again, “but a good kind of nervous.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Actually, I think excited is a better word to use. You guys always just seem like you have so much fun when you’re around each other, and I’m just...” You waved your hands in front of yourself, feeling your heart beat faster and faster while your face grew hot once more. “I’m just really excited to film with you all and play Minecraft together.”

Silence washed over the call, and your cheeks felt like they were about to burn right off your face. “Sorry,” you mumbled embarrassedly. “That—that probably sounds really dumb.”

“It doesn’t,” Sapnap said suddenly, making your gaze grow wide, “not at all.”

“Yeah,” George added with a joyful hum. “I dunno about those two, but I’m also excited to play with you, [Y/N].”

Dream guffawed, a scoff escaping his lips. “What do you mean you don’t know about us? Of course we’re excited! [Y/N] is great!”

You nearly fell out of your chair. “H-Huh?”

Dream’s voice was suddenly soft again, both parts soothing and cheerful all at once. “We might have only known each other for a little while, but I’m telling you, we’re beyond happy to have you here, and we want you to have a good time, too.”

“Oh, a thousand percent,” George said straight-facedly into his mic. “I’d trade you for both of these nerds in a heartbeat.”

Just like that, Sapnap was yelling as you heard Dream smack his desk. “George, what?! How could you say that?”

Giggling, you sank into your desk chair with a relieved smile, pressing a hand over your eager heart. “Thank you,” you murmured, only hoping they could hear the sincerity in your words. “I hope I don’t let you guys down.”

Their raucous bickering suddenly died down at the softness in your tone, and three voices spoke at the same time—each one sounding more honest than the last.

“You could never.”

You leaned forward in your desk chair, your eyes glued to your screen as you watched Dream’s avatar stand as still as a rock, frozen and entirely unmoving. Your finger hovered over your W key, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as your tongue darted out to flick over your bottom lip.

Manhunts may be stressful, but you were more than ready to tackle this one headfirst.

It happened so quickly that you nearly missed it. In one moment, Dream was standing in front of you, stock still as you stared him down. In the next, he was darting off in the opposite direction, already a whopping ten blocks away.

Sapnap’s voice shot through your headset like a bullet as he shouted, “After him!”

He didn’t need to say it again before the group was already dashing across the grassy field, boosting each other forward every other block. You clicked frantically at George’s backside, your lips twitching in glee as he shot the slightest bit closer to Dream. With each passing second, they ran further and further, Dream lying just a few steps out of reach. All of a sudden, he leapt off the side of a cliff, vanishing from sight in an instant. Coming to a screeching halt atop the hill, you watched as Bad peered over the forest, Sapnap and George hot on his heels.

“Where’d he go?” George muttered, confusion clouding his voice.

You shifted your mouse left and right as your gaze darted across your screen, scanning every pixel for even the tiniest hint of neon green. Just then, a gasp flew from your lips, and you caught Sapnap jolting in your direction at the sound.

“Look!” you cried, clicking to point over at the greenery. “He’s on the right—on top of the trees!”

Without missing a beat, everyone was leaping off the hill and barreling across the trees, ignoring their fall damage as they jumped over small gaps. “What is he,” George grumbled under his breath, “a monkey?”

You let out a tiny giggle at the genuine annoyance in his tone, but didn’t stop chasing after Dream’s running figure. Suddenly, he just barely missed his jump, bouncing twice on the same leaf block. He had only stalled for a brief second, but that was more than enough time for you to spam click your mouse. In a flash, Dream was tumbling off the tree, with you trailing right after him.

“I hit him off!” you shouted in glee, elation making every one of your syllables soar in your throat. “He’s on the ground.”

“Nice one, [Y/N]!” Sapnap chuckled with delight. “Now, don’t let him get away!”

The praise made the triumphant feeling that had unfurled beneath your ribs spread even farther under your skin, warming you from head to toe. Pushing forward, you nodded and slammed your thumb down on your space bar.

You had no plans of letting him escape.

You pulled your water bottle from your lips with a gasp, quickly screwing the cap back on before setting it down on your desk. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you turned back to your monitor, your gaze focused on the anvil a few blocks away. To your left sat the portal, and to your right was a wall of obsidian.

You were four hours into filming now, but you still weren't tired. How could you be, when you were so close to the end?

Clicking on the anvil, you dragged the diamond axe in your inventory into the first slot before reaching for the enchanted book sitting just beside it. Forty-two levels—you would need forty-two levels to enchant your axe with Sharpness IV.

You glanced down at the space above your hotbar and grinned.

Luckily for you, you had forty-three.

Clicking once more, clanging echoed through your ears, and you placed your newly enchanted axe in your hotbar with a proud smile. It was an absolute pain having to kill as many mobs and loot as many desert temples as you did, but for this, it was absolutely worth it. Now, it was time for the rest of the plan.

“I have no idea how you came up with this,” George said earnestly, his character facing yours, “but I love it.”

You grinned, opening up your inventory and removing your amour. “I just got really, really lucky.”

Grabbing an invisibility potion, you suddenly paused, a hint of uneasiness sinking in your gut. If Dream noticed any particles, you would be dead in an instant, and your plan would be blown to smithereens. You would have to move quickly to make it work—almost ridiculously quickly.

Swallowing, you opened your mouth. “Do you guys think we can really pull this thing off?”

Sapnap let out an easygoing chuckle, your shoulders relaxing in an instant. “Oh, I know we can.”

Letting Sapnap’s confidence run through you, you held down your mouse’s right key, downing the invisibility potion in one go before turning to rush out of the portal room. Through your headphones, you heard Dream let out an inquisitive hum, curiosity flickering through his tone. “Just what are you guys up to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Sapnap fired back without missing a beat, his voice swimming with mischief.

While George let out a wheeze and you giggled at Sapnap’s sharp quip, Dream sighed, muttering, “So much for asking.”

Huffing out one last quiet laugh, the smile fell from your face, your eyes narrowing as your expression grew serious. You moved ever so carefully through the stronghold, weaving in and out of the labyrinthine halls like a snake on the hunt. Your gaze darted back and forth between the compass in your hotbar and your screen. With each sharp swing of the compass hand, you held your breath, turning until it was pointed forward again. You had been searching for a few minutes when suddenly, you spotted it.

A glimpse of green.

Dressed head to toe in enchanted iron armour, Dream’s avatar stood in front of a wall of furnaces, smelting away as he turned from one to the next. On the same wall was a crafting table and a chest. He was planning something, you just knew it, but you didn’t have the time to question what. After all, he was facing the wall opposite from you, completely unaware of your presence.

This was the perfect chance, and you weren’t going to waste it worrying.

Creeping forward, you stopped only when you stood just a single block away from him, switching from your empty hand to the enchanted diamond axe in your hotbar. With Sharpness IV, it would only take three critical hits for you to take him down.

For a second, all was still.

Then, you were pressing down on your space bar and clicking your mouse a half second later, watching with bated breath as Dream’s avatar twitched from your attack. One.

He had barely managed to turn around before you had already landed another hit on him. Two.

By the time he had pulled out his own axe and began scanning the seemingly empty air in front of him, you were slamming your finger down one last time. Three.

With a shout, Dream dropped dead before you, his inventory exploding into a mess on the floor at your feet. You blinked once. Twice.

Then, the call burst into a mess of screams and shouts.

Dream’s yell rang through your ears as George and Sapnap hooted in delight, Bad and Antfrost following with their own victory cheers. “What the heck?!” he cried, shock filling his every word. “[Y/N], was that you? Oh my god, where did you even come from?”

Practically gasping for breath, you nearly collapsed on top of your keyboard, the adrenaline slowly wearing off as you smiled triumphantly to yourself. “[Y/N], you did it!” Sapnap shouted, just as loud as before. “You—you just—holy crap!”

“I was so stressed,” you breathed, sagging against the back of your chair with a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”

“You were awesome, so awesome,” George managed between giggles, his own voice sounding giddy and positively overjoyed. “I knew you could do it.”

Your cheeks half-felt like they were about to start hurting from how hard you were smiling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as Dream’s tired laugh filled your ears.

“Congratulations, [Y/N],” he murmured fondly. “You won.”

Just a week and a half later, you couldn’t believe your eyes as you scrolled through the comments section of the new video.

[y/n] was so funny omg

They made this manhunt feel so much more special

Their chemistry as a group was so good wtf!!!??!

please bring [y/n] back I am in LOVE

[Y/N] SUPREMACY

With each new comment you scrolled past, you felt your heart swell more and more in your chest with a mixture of joy and pride. You didn’t expect people to respond so positively to the video—to you.

You had barely made even a dent in the hordes of comments about you when a Discord notification popped up on your laptop screen. In a flash, you were pulling up Discord, quickly clicking on the appropriately named group chat, [Y/N] KILLED DREAM!!

Sapnap: hey

Sapnap: hey did you read the comments

[Y/N]: i did! people were so positive!!

[Y/N]: i wasn’t expecting it

George: You weren’t?

You furrowed your brows, reading George’s question twice before typing once again.

[Y/N]: of course not??? i’m just some person

[Y/N]: you guys are the dream team

George: Don’t put yourself down like that

Sapnap: yeah everyone liked the video because they liked you

Dream: well then

Dream: how do you feel about coming back to film again?

You stared at your screen in awe, something hopeful and weightless rising in the expanse of your chest. Filming another video? With them?

You didn’t even have to think before your fingers were typing out a response.

[Y/N]: i would love to

Peals of laughter tumbled from your lips as you rolled over on your bed, your phone perched beside your head on your pillow. A split second later, a loud whine echoed from your phone speaker, and you found yourself laughing even harder, your lungs gasping harder and harder for breath with each giggle that was pulled from your throat.

Never in your wildest dreams would you have guessed that you would be here.

It had been nearly a year since the fateful day that brought you and the Dream Team together and a little over ten months since you had first filmed together. Now, three videos and countless streams later, you were closer than ever before, cracking jokes and pushing each other’s buttons like you had known each other their whole lives—maybe even longer than that. It took some prodding, but you even called Dream by his real name, now. As much as you liked the name Dream, Clay sounded much nicer, in your opinion. Texting daily was practically a sacred ritual now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t get spammed by their texts at least four times a week. Even now, as you lay on your bed with your phone connected to Discord at your side, you were chatting with them, grinning as wide as ever. It was a comfortably pleasant lull you had fallen into, the four of you—one that you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life sinking into.

It was comfortable indeed, but even as complete as you felt now, you felt like there was something missing—like there was a hollow cavern in your chest just waiting to be filled.

Yet another shout suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, the noise sounding even more astounded than it had before. “How was I supposed to know that that was Russia?”

The sheer amount of shock in George’s voice immediately made you burst into another fit of giggles, throwing your head back. “There was Russian on the sign!” you managed between breaths. “It was so obvious!”

He sputtered at the sound of your laughter, sounding absolutely appalled by your reaction. “You can’t just expect me to be able to read Russian!”

You grinned, your voice dropping the tiniest fraction. “You act as if you don’t know how to say a few things in Russian.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Sapnap whistled. “Touché, [Y/N]. You’ve got him there.”

While George groaned, surely smacking his palm into his forehead, Clay spoke up with a teasing hum. “You should play some GeoGuessr with us more often. You’re way better at this than George.”

“This is bullying,” came a distant complaint from George, his voice coming out muffled through his mic.

“It’s the truth,” you corrected with a cheeky grin. “You cannot deny that.”

There came a snort, followed by Sapnap’s gentle laugh. “Look at you, [Y/N], being so mean all of a sudden.”

You smiled lopsidedly, trying to push back the shiver that ran down your spine at the way his low voice made your insides melt. “You know you guys love it.”

“We do.” Clay’s voice almost sounded far away, muffled and hazy. “We really, really do.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as a soft silence washed over the four of you, your chuckles dying down and fading into the quietness of your bedroom. Sighing deeply, you picked at your nail, silently begging your heart to calm down again. It was right then when George softly piped up.

“Hey, [Y/N],” he said quietly. When you let out a small noise, he continued. “We… you would call us close to you, right?”

You laughed at the hesitancy in his tone. For a second, he almost sounded shy, and it sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. “Do you even have to ask? We’ve been friends for months—of course we are!”

You could make out the faint sound of shuffling from Clay’s end, his icon flashing green. “Are—” He coughed. “Does that mean we’re close enough to ask you a… somewhat private question?”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone, your curiosity piquing. “Go for it,” you said gently, letting your eyelids flutter comfortably shut.

“Have you met your soulmate yet?”

In an instant, your eyes shot wide open again, and you lay frozen in your bed. In all the time you had known each other, not once had you brought up the topic of soulmates. It was almost as though you had simply skirted around it, too shy to press on about. But right now, with the topic lying right in front of your face, you couldn’t just avoid the topic.

Your fingers twitched as your mouth fell open. “N-No,” you stammered, the butterflies in your stomach going oddly still. “I, um, I haven’t. Have any of you?”

There was a pause. “No, none of us.”

You thought for a moment, your heart mulling over those four little words. Then, you exhaled and let your shoulders relax against the mattress, your nails curling into your palm. “I’m sure you guys have nothing to worry about,” you murmured almost hazily. “There are probably thousands and thousands of people who would love to be any one of your soulmates.” You chuckled, but it tasted bittersweet on your tongue. “Heck, there’s probably at least half a million fans who would be dying to take my place, right now.”

On the other end of the line, you were met with silence, but it was fleeting. “What about you?” Clay suddenly asked.

You blinked, your palm going slack. “Me?”

“You,” Clay affirmed, sounding more serious than before. “If you were one of our soulmates, how would you feel?”

The words left your lips before you could stop them. “Happy,” you blurted, suddenly feeling breathless. “So, so happy. I—”

You suddenly slapped your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off with wide eyes. Realization struck you like a lightning bolt, and you could feel your blood run cold in your neck. I did not just say that.

“What—” George stopped. Then, a second later, he continued. “Which one of us would you want it to be? To be your soulmate?”

With trembling fingers, you moved your hand away from your mouth, your voice coming out small. “Are you asking me who I like most?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You almost felt your heart drop, bolting upright until you were sitting atop your sheets. Wrapping your hand around your phone, you balanced it on your lap, uncertainty springing up in your gut.

Who... I like most?

Dream, George, and Sapnap. Sapnap, Dream, and George.

To think that just a year ago, you had never spoken to them—had only ever known them as three strangers through a screen. Yet here you were now, their voices soft against your ear and your heart aching at the sound of their laughter. They made you smile beyond belief, and you wouldn’t miss a call with them for the world, even if it was three in the morning and you were dead asleep. Although you had spent time with each of them individually, just as friends did, you loved spending time with all three of them together far more, and you didn’t want to imagine having them any other way.

George, Sapnap, and Dream.

Who did you like most?

You swallowed, then opened your mouth. “I,” you choked out, “I don’t—I wouldn’t—”

You stopped, your heart pounding like a drum between your lungs. You could feel them waiting for you, as patient and caring as ever. The thought made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Screwing your eyes shut, you sucked in a deep breath and whispered.

“I don’t think I could ever pick just one of you.”

The silence that filled the air as you closed your mouth was tense. A million unspoken words ricocheted off the insides of your mind, your heart racing within the confines of your chest. The air suddenly felt too hot, and you kicked the covers off your legs, curling your knees closer to your chest and resting your burning cheeks on top of them.

“Maybe this is a sudden thing to say,” Sapnap whispered abruptly, his words coming out slurred as he broke the silence, “but I really, really want to know what you look like right now, [Y/N].”

You felt your arms go limp around your legs. “Me, too,” George added, thoughtful and faint. “I bet you’re beautiful.”

Resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands, you ran your finger along the edge of your phone screen, the glass pressing against your hot skin. “I—um,” you began shakily, “you’ll see when we meet, okay? This way, two of us can stay a mystery.”

Clay’s soft chuckle rippled through your bedroom once more, bouncing off the walls and making your chest ache even more. “Alright.”

You felt your chest constrict with heat, feeling like you were almost about to burst at the seams from the way they were speaking. “W-Well,” you laughed, trying not to sound as panicked as you felt, “on that note, I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” You opened your mouth to continue when a yawn cut you off, eliciting a string of laughs from your phone speaker. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”

“Sweet dreams, [Y/N],” George murmured tenderly. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you confirmed with your heart battering against your ribs. “Goodnight!”

Reaching over, you pressed your thumb over your phone screen, exiting the call just as swiftly as you had joined. That had been hours ago now, and while you were tired, you couldn’t shake the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach—twisting and turning as you laid back on your bed. You slipped your phone onto your nightstand, plugging it in in a forlorn haze before lying back once more. Staring up at the lonesome ceiling, you frowned, your heart suddenly feeling like an anchor in your chest.

Without even an inch of doubt, you knew: you liked them—all three of them.

And it was going to be the end of you.

Having a crush was a dangerous thing in a world full of soulmates, especially if they were online—even more so if you had multiple. You could only ever find out if someone was your soulmate if you met them in person, and you had heard far too many stories of couples meeting in person, only to learn that they weren’t fated to be. Combining that with multiple soulmate bonds slimmed the chances even further. Multiple soulmate bonds weren’t exactly unheard of, but they were rare. You had never met anyone who had one, and you doubted that you would be the first you’d know to have one.

You suddenly felt it—that familiar spark of hope you felt all those months ago when you sat at your desk chair with a shirt on your lap. The hope that drew you to them now was the very same hope that connected you in the first place. Your heart leapt, lapping up every last droplet like a man dying of thirst, yet with each new spark that rained down in your chest, the thought clawing at the back of your mind loomed larger and larger.

Just what exactly were the chances all four of you would be soulmates? It had to be next to nothing if it wasn’t zero already.

This wasn’t like the manhunt raffle—lady luck could only be so generous.

Rolling onto your side, you felt something deep inside you reach its hands up and wrap around your lungs, squeezing as tightly as it could. The ache that shot through your insides stung like a hot coal, but you knew there was nothing you could do to soothe its hungry flames. Unshed tears pricked the back of your eyelids like silver needles, and you squeezed your eyes shut, choking back a muffled whine. Your bedroom suddenly felt too big, your bed too empty.

Hope could be beautiful, but it could also destroy you from the inside out.

“Do not leave the call.”

Clay’s chuckle sent a frown skittering across your face, and you let out a small whine as you leaned forward in your desk chair. “Aww,” he crooned, teasing and light, “are you jealous, Georgie?”

“N-No, what?” George sputtered, and you could almost envision the way his cheeks would flush a pretty shade of baby pink. “Just—just don’t hang up.”

“I’m telling you,” Sapnap laughed with a sly lilt, his voice sounding a little more distant than Clay’s, “he’s jealous.” You vaguely could make out the sound of his signal light from inside his car, a muffled car horn echoing from outside. “Or at least if he isn’t, [Y/N] is.”

At that, you whipped your head up, blinking wide as you shot a glare at Sapnap’s Discord icon on the side of your monitor screen. “Well, [Y/N]?” Clay drawled, a flicker of mischief dancing in his tone. “What do you have to say about that?”

You curled your fingers into your hands, a small pout settling onto your features as heat shot across your face. “I—I am!” you said, your voice coming out a fraction louder than you intended. When the other line went quiet, you shuffled back in your seat, your cheeks burning even hotter. “I am jealous, okay? It’s... it’s just not fair that you two get to meet before we do.”

There was a brief moment of silence. You were being childish, you knew, but at least you were being honest. Suddenly, Clay spoke. “We know, sweetheart,” he said gently, not at all realizing how your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “But you’ll be able to meet us soon. Just wait a bit longer, okay? I’ll buy you both plane tickets if I have to.”

You pouted with a dejected whimper, your finger drawing small circles onto the side of your desk. “Okay.”

“Don’t sound so sad,” Sapnap chuckled with a soothing coo. “As soon as we can get you two over here, we will.”

You let out a sigh, swinging your chair from side to side with a frown. Was it so wrong of you to want to meet them so badly, to want to see them and hug them? Part of you didn’t even care if you were all soulmates at this point—you just wanted to hear them laugh in person. You wanted to make them smile. Was that really so much to ask for?

“I see him!” Clay suddenly shouted. Your head shot up faster than a bullet, and you heard the sound of a front door opening and slamming shut. “Oh, Sapnap.”

“Oh, Dream,” Sapnap called mockingly, his smile shining through in his voice. There was the sound of the car engine stopping, then a car door swinging open. “Holy crap, you’re way taller than I expected.”

You chuckled at the surprise in Sapnap’s voice, hearing George laugh along with you. “Jeez,” Clay muttered, his voice overlapping ever so slightly with the mic on Sapnap’s phone. “It’s so weird actually seeing you in person, oh my go—”

All of a sudden, Clay went silent, cutting himself off with a strangled noise of surprise. On Sapnap’s end, there was a muffled choking sound, then nothing. In a flash, you were upright, your eyes wide and your hand flying to your mouse.

“Sapnap?” George called, his tone soaked with worry. “Clay? Are you two alright?”

There came a gasp, and you could make out the sound of Sapnap struggling to search for words. “You’re—Clay’s my—”

Just like that, it clicked, like a switch had been flipped inside you. You felt something in your chest deflate, and you opened your mouth.

“Soulmates,” you whispered so quietly that you would have missed it yourself, had you not been the one to say it. “You two are soulmates, aren’t you?”

George fell silent. “I think so,” Clay mumbled, his tone coming out as if he were in a daze. “I’ve never felt anything like that before in my life—it definitely feels like what everyone says, you know? Just, really warm, and.... and...” He trailed off, ending with an enamoured sigh. “Yeah.”

Your mouth felt as though it had been sewn shut, like you wouldn’t have been able to force the words from your lips even if you tried. “How did we not know after all these years?” Sapnap giggled, his voice swimming in a mixture of disbelief and affection.

“We’ve never met in person up until now,” Clay mused, his sentence rising at the end. “This is the first time we’ve ever seen each other, let alone touched.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sapnap murmured back wistfully. The call suddenly went quiet, and a deep, disappointed quiet fell over the four of you. Not a word was said as the harsh reality slowly settled into your hearts.

Clay and Sapnap were soulmates.

Only Clay and Sapnap.

“I’m happy for you two!” George suddenly shouted, startling you in your chair. He sounded oddly chipper—too chipper. “I wish—” He suddenly choked, pausing for a moment to catch his breath again. “I wish I was already friends with my soulmate. Meeting new people is hard.”

“Who knows?” Clay chuckled. His words were teasing, but even they couldn’t mask how crestfallen he sounded. “Maybe [Y/N] is yours.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap hummed in agreement, the hopefulness in his voice sounding just as forced as his soulmate’s. “You hear that, [Y/N]? Maybe you and Gogy were meant to be.”

Your vision was hazy and unfocused, your gaze focused on the window in your room. In the corner of the glass was a small spider web, just barely the size of your palm. You watched with blurry eyes as a fly caught in the sticky web beat its wings in desperation, struggling helplessly as a spider crawled out from behind the windowsill. You distantly wondered how trapped that fly felt—if it knew that there was no point in hoping for anything better, now.

Turning away from the window, you focused your gaze down at yourself, down at the black shirt you were wearing. A clean white axe stared back up at you, and you felt a bittersweet smile stretch across your face as you uttered a single word.

“Maybe.”

A loud beep echoed from the ceiling speakers, and you jumped at the sound. All around you, people were bustling in and out of gates, towing luggage behind them as they rushed down the crowded pathways and between loitering groups of people. You whipped your head this way and that at the sight, your head spinning with all the new sights and sounds.

It was still hard to believe that just a few months prior, you wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an airport like this.

To see people move from one place to the next, seeing loved ones and meeting new people for the first time was almost exhilarating, especially after all that had happened with the world. You liked it, and you certainly hoped that it was here to stay.

You had just started walking down the main path when you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Fishing it out, your face lit up at the caller ID, and you picked up without waiting another second, pressing the cool glass to your ear with a smile. “Hi, George.”

“Hey!” he greeted with a cheerful tone. “Did you get here safely?”

Rocking back and forth on your heels, you curled your fingers a little tighter around the handle of your suitcase with a hum. “Yep.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it sent a familiar tingle of warmth bouncing down your spine. “How are you feeling?”

You paused, your steps faltering for a brief second as you pondered. “Nervous,” you said after a moment or two, “but a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he repeated with a fond tone. “I think I know the word you’re looking for.”

Your lips curled up at his words, your mind flashing back to a distant day from long, long ago. “Yes, George, I’m excited.”

The laugh that fell from his lips sounded like pure music to your ears, and you caught yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind drowning in the sound. “Me, too.” As you wove between a few sectioned off groups, George added gently, “You know where to meet us, right?”

You nodded with a small noise of confirmation, making a sharp turn down yet another long hallway. “Yeah—I’m pretty sure Clay and Sap are already waiting for us.”

George snorted, both affectionate and teasing at once. “Oh, I know they are. I’ll see you there?”

You grinned, bobbing your head along to the beat of your suitcase wheels rolling across the polished tiled floors. “For sure. See you there!”

Lowering your phone from your ear, you pressed your thumb against the screen before letting it drop into your pocket once more. A sigh escaped your lips as you let the ache you had been suppressing tumble loose, throbbing and gnawing away at the shaky shards of your heart.

How long had they known that Clay and Sapnap were soulmates, now? Five months? Six? You weren’t sure if you could even bring yourself to keep count, anymore. It hurt too much to think about. You were happy for them, you really were. But the selfish part inside you still longed for their touch, even if they wouldn’t ever truly be yours. It wasn’t that you didn’t like George, but you meant what you said—you couldn’t pick just one, and you wanted all of them, as greedy as it was.

Shaking your head, you pushed forward, your gaze darting up to the navigational sign hanging from the ceiling. No matter how painful it may be, you weren’t going to let your own heart get in the way of how amazing today was going to be. You were meeting your favourite people in the world today, and nothing was going to take that away from you.

Not even heartbreak.

Glancing briefly over at a map on the wall, you huffed as you dragged your suitcase up a set of stairs and through the corridor, chewing on the inside of your lip. George’s gate was on the opposite side of the airport from yours, and Clay and Sapnap were waiting in the middle for the two of you. His flight had arrived a bit before yours, so you knew you were just going to have to find all three of them together.

After another few minutes of walking, you found yourself walking into the central dome of the airport, the glass ceiling filtering natural light into the room as you wheeled your luggage in. Your lips parting in awe at the sight, you swept your gaze across the busy room, scanning over every head you could find. You had only been looking for a few moments when a head of dark sepia hair caught your attention. Narrowing your eyes, you shuffled forward carefully. Then, your lips split into a triumphant grin.

There they were.

In a heartbeat, you felt your insides melt at the sight. Sapnap and George looked as handsome as ever, their lips curled up into dazzling smiles as they spoke, and Clay—oh, Clay. This was the first time you would ever be seeing each other’s faces, but you didn’t have to see him to know that he was pretty. With tousled golden locks and emerald green eyes that flashed like gemstones, he was everything you could have asked for and more.

Chatting casually with one another, all three of them were dressed in comfortable clothes, and you wanted to fling yourself at them and bury yourself into their warm touch. Sucking in a deep breath, you marched toward them, slinking around so that you were facing their backs. Hugs could come later—right now, it was time for a surprise.

Treading slowly and carefully, you only stopped when you stood a foot behind them, the giddiness rising in your chest as you finally opened your mouth.

“Sapnap was right. You are tall.”

The three of them immediately whirled at the sound of your voice, their eyes as wide as saucers as their gazes locked on yours. The grin on your face only grew wider as you watched their faces light up in unison, like a set of stars coming together in the night sky.

“[Y/N],” they said at the same time, blinking wildly as you sent them a small wave.

You laughed. “Here I a—”

“We were right, too,” Clay suddenly blurted, bending over slightly. “You are beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed with bubbling heat, and you felt your heart leap in your chest. “I—ah, um,” you stammered, taking a step back. “You look good too, Clay.”

Sapnap took a step forward, reaching his hand out toward you with a soft smile. “So, we finally meet,” he hummed, a brilliant gleam flashing across his eye. “Does this mean I get to hug you, now?”

You grinned, and with a giggle, you were leaping forward, your suitcase wobbling behind you as you let go. The moment you felt warm arms wrap around your backside, you felt yourself relax.

Then, your skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.

Warmth surged up your spine like a rippling flame, your eyes shooting wide open as you gasped, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of Sapnap’s shirt. In an instant, you were stumbling back, clutching at the space over your heart. You could feel it going absolutely haywire in your chest, pounding like never before. Your entire body felt as light as a feather, and your mind felt strangely hazy.

Impossible—it had to be.

“Sap,” you choked out, your eyes locking onto his own wide ones, “you—”

“George, Clay,” he suddenly said, reaching a hand out toward the two boys, “get over here. Right now.”

The two of them had been standing stock still just a few steps away, their jaws dropped and faces contorted with surprise as they watched you and Sapnap tremble across from one another. Swallowing, George took the first shaky step forward, reaching his hand toward yours. The moment your fingers brushed, the same tingling warmth crashed over you like a wave, and you let out a soft noise, happiness blooming in your throat like a blossom in spring. You watched with earnest eyes as George’s expression mirrored yours, his rosy lips parted in surprise as his fingers latched onto yours. The hope you had locked away months ago came pouring out of your glowing heart like a waterfall, overwhelming every inch of your senses.

“It’s not just us,” you whispered, your voice brimming with nebulous hope. “It’s George, too.”

George lifted his head, his breath hitched as he turned. “That just means...”

All three of your gazes landed on Clay, who was still frozen in place, stock still with shock. Your eyes darted to Sapnap’s, then George’s. You nodded in unison, and without saying a word, you stepped forward. You slipped your hand into Sapnap’s, your heart trembling with adoration at how big and warm his palm was against your own. Sharing one last glance with one another, you nodded. Just like that, you were slipping your hand into Clay’s, George following suit while Sapnap grabbed his.

In a heartbeat, everything felt perfect.

The empty cracks in your heart no longer felt as wide as they once did, instead flooding with burning warmth and something that felt like love. Your head spun with dizzying affection, and you felt your vision grow watery, but for an entirely different reason, now.

God, you loved them, you loved them, you loved them.

At your side, Sapnap’s hand shook in yours, surprise lacing his every word. “I can’t believe it.”

“A four-way soulmate bond,” George breathed, his own mouth twitching up into a lovestruck grin. “I—I never thought we’d have one. I mean, I always hoped but—”

Suddenly, Clay spoke up, his voice hoarse but full of sincerity. “W-Woah, are you crying? What’s wrong?”

In a flash, their eyes were on you, who had let go of Clay’s hand to press your palm against your eye. “N-Nothing’s wrong,” you said, your voice shaking with overwhelming emotion. “I’m just—I’m so happy.” A quiet sniffle bubbled up in your throat, but it didn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. “I liked you all so much and I was so scared that only George was going to be my soulmate, because you’re all so important to me, and I couldn’t just give you guys up like that.”

“[Y/N],” Clay choked out, his own voice starting to wobble, “stop, please. You’re going to make me cry.”

Laughing, you leaned against him, soaking into the warmth of his body as his arm instinctively wrapped around you. “Just—just cry with me, okay? We can all cry together.”

You didn’t need to say it twice. Not even a split second later, and you felt two more pairs of arms snake up around you, a nose burying itself into your hair as a cheek pressed against yours. “It looks like you won more than just one lottery then, huh?” Sapnap mumbled from above you, his chest rumbling against your back.

“Yeah,” George chuckled, his fingers lovingly rubbing small circles against your arm. “First the manhunt, now this. Just how lucky can one person be?”

You smiled, rubbing your head against Clay’s shoulder with a loving hum. “I don’t know what the universe was thinking,” you murmured, your eyelids fluttering shut as you gently rocked back and forth together, “but I’m glad I won. You three are the best prize I could have ever asked for.”

You felt a pair of lips press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your heart sighing in your chest. “I love you,” someone whispered, too softly for you to tell who it was.

All around you, the bustling airport kept moving, full of life and bursting with energy as the crowds flowed around you like a river. The world was still moving, the planet still turning beneath your feet as you embraced one another, warm and safe in each other’s arms. But in that moment, none of that mattered. A dazzling spark danced along the crevice of your heart, bright and warm and oh-so full of hope as you opened your mouth to whisper back.

“I love you all, too.”

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Five. "You guys gossip about boys without me?"

warnings: swearing, mentions of emotional abusive/manipulation word count: 3.2k (not including pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

Y/n dropped her phone on the bed and slowly rolled off and onto the ground with a soft THUD. She grunted, falling harder than she expected but the dull pain now present in her right shoulder felt deserved somehow. Why did she think she deserved it? Maybe because she was an unconfrontational worm even when the person needed to be confronted because he hurt her more than anyone ever had.

She closed her eyes and wiggled to get comfortable on the thin carpet in her room. Laying on the ground was relaxing to her, forcing her gamer back to straighten to how it was intended. It helped her think, being on the floor. She didn't know why but she didn't question it. Just laid on the floor in acceptance with the dirt and forgotten candy wrappers.

Why didn't she want to respond to Peter? Well, years of being with him and even the months of not being with him had taught her that her ex liked to get his way and liked to take his anger out in her verbally when he didn't.

You could say she's heard some terrible things over very simple inconveniences.

Y/n slowly pattered to her desk and slid on her headphones, finding the discord server Dream said he and George were on. It was a server that a lot of their friends were in, one that Y/n hardly went in since she still hadn't met a lot of them and wasn't super comfortable with talking in it yet.

She scrolled through the various text chats, one for boredom, one for stream questions, one for memes, one for pictures of pets, one for.... discussing the inevitable takeover of rats...? Y/n wasn't sure what that was about but she knew she didn't want to find out. The list went on. She was pretty sure they had made a channel for every possible message someone could ever send.

There were equally as many voice channels, most of them titled with the names of different games for when they only played with each other and didn't stream. Some of them were just random names and she noticed there was one to match the rat takeover text channel. Okay, who was responsible for that?

After what felt like an entire scavenger hunt and with many new questions in her mind, Y/n finally found the voice channel Dream and George were in and clicked on it. It was called memerz-only.

"I'm not a memer, am I allowed in here?" she asked. She hadn't realized how messed up her voice was since she hadn't talked all day.

"Holy shit, Bug, you sound awful."

She scoffed a laugh. "Thanks, Dream. Really means a lot." She did sound pretty scuffed. Her voice was a little scratchy from not talking literally all day.

"You doing okay, Bugsy?" George asked kindly, to which she hummed.

“I just have one quick question...”

“Mhm?”

“This is simple, please don’t elaborate further. There’s a channel on this server... did you guys mean rat as in BadBoyHalo’s dog or rats as in rats?”

Neither of them spoke for a minute before George understood what she was referring to. “Oh! Rats as in rats.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Yeah, Quackity—“

“No!” she interupted. “No! I said I don’t wanna know. I really don’t. I’m too afraid to understand.”

“Wha- HA, okay.”

“Good choice, Bugsy. I wish I didn’t know what it’s about. It’s a lot weirder than you’d think.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Dream said with a laugh. “How are you doing, Bug?”

"Neither of you are streaming, right?" she asked, doubling checking the twitch app on her phone to be sure.

"No."

"So I don't have to pretend to be happy and bubbly?"

"No, you can be as mundane as you'd like," Dream said. "We don't mind."

"Yeah, honestly, most of the time when Dream and I are on calls alone it's just us being super boring and hardly talking."

"That's..." she paused to find the right words and decided with, "actually really cute. You guys just enjoy each other's presence."

George scoffed and Dream giggled. "See, even Bug says we're cute, Georgie! Why can you tell me you love me?"

"I'll leave right now if you don't stop," George threatened. "Can we go back to how Bugsy's miserable?"

"I'm not miserable, I just..." she hesitated. She had already told George about why she was having a bad day, but Dream?

She didn't want to tell Karl because she knew he would yell at her. She didn't want to tell Sapnap because she didn't trust him not to tell everyone (on accident, of course). For some reason, it was a different kind of hesitation than with the others that made her not want to tell Dream. She didn't want to tell him because she didn't want to be... embarrassed? Maybe that was it. She thought it would be embarrassing to tell Dream about how her ex-boyfriend treated her like shit and how now he wants to get back together with her. Plus, she knew how everyone else individually would react but Dream was a complete mystery. Maybe he'd yell at her too and say she's stupid for being affected by an ex. Maybe he'd break down crying for some reason? Who knows?

"You don't have to tell us," Dream stated. "Seriously."

"It's embarrassing," she said, tucking her feet beneath her on her seat. As she said the words, she decided they felt right. She was embarrassed. "But George already knows."

Above everyone else, Y/n was okay with telling George about her situation because he and her tended to talk about their troublesome relationships quite often. He always came to her for advice and she to him. They were very similar in their ways of thinking and seemed to have lots of similar dating stories, even if neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. She knew he'd never judge her for thinking unclearly since he tended to do the same.

George hummed, not knowing what to say since she hadn't said much. She could tell he didn't wanna say something that might make Dream more nosey and start hounding her about telling him.

"What hap—never mind. Not my business," Dream said quickly.

"No, I mean, I kinda wanted to talk to George about it again anyway so I guess you can join in on the gossip." Guess my mouth decided for me on this one, she thought.

"Wait, what? You guys gossip about boys without me?"

"Oh my gosh, don't say it like that, Dream," George groaned. "Bugsy and I talk about relationship problems a lot, yes. Not just boys."

"How did I not know this?"

"Because you don't know a lot of things?"

"It's normally George sending screenshots of text conversations with girls and asking me how to let them down gently," Y/n explained with a giggle.

"Or Y/n talking about her asshole ex."

"George! What do you and Karl not get about not calling him names?"

"I'm so lost," Dream mumbled.

Y/n sighed. "Okay, well," she cut herself off with a groan. "It's so embarrassing. Basically, my ex asked me to 'chat' this morning which is code for he wants to get back together—"

"Do you know that for sure?" Dream asked.

"Yeah, we already decided that," George snapped. "Let her finish."

"Sorry."

"So he wants to get back together and I feel stupid for wanting to listen to what he has to say."

"How is that embarrassing?"

"Because he hurt me and I feel like an idiot because him even suggesting that means he doesn't realize how badly he hurt me. It makes me feel like, I don't know, like all the time I spent being upset was for nothing," Y/n explained in a soft voice. "And because his simple, like, five word text made me freak out all day to the point of exhaustion."

"I don't think you should be embarrassed, Bugsy," George offered.

"Have either of you, uh, have you ever considered dating an ex?"

"Didn't you just say he hurt you badly?" Dream asked. "You aren't thinking of getting back with him, are you?"

"No... but I want to stay friends so maybe I should hear him out?"

"Well, I've never gotten back with an ex," he said bluntly. "But to be fair, all my relationships have ended badly or for bad reasons so I've never wanted to see any of them again. Staying friends depends on why you and he broke up, I guess, but..."

"Um, how do I put this..." she trailed off. "He was mean to me."

"Then no? Simple."

"But I've forgiven him and I think he's changed."

"People don't change that easily. Didn't you break up like, a few months ago?" George asked.

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly I think if a guy was ever mean to you he doesn't deserve any more of your attention," Dream decided. "So, no. Don't even be his friend. Don't listen to a single thing he has to say."

"That's what I told her," George agreed.

"If that were the case, you guys shouldn't be friends," she argued. "You're mean to each other all the time."

"But we know it's a joke," George defended.

"So you're saying if someone is ever purposefully mean to you just once, you drop them forever?"

"Well, no," Dream said. "Not exactly. But it sounds like he was super mean to you since it's why you broke up."

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to go into detail. She was already uncomfortable enough talking about her personal life so much, but she trusted both of them and needed to get it off her chest and they were there and willing to listen. They had already established wanting to listen to her if she wanted to speak and right now, she wanted to speak. Maybe not the full story, but at least some. "He, um, well, the mean things he said, he said because he was trying to get me to see what he thought was the truth about myself."

Both of them were silent for a few moments. "I'm still confused," George admitted.

"Me too... But you don't have to tell us." Dream explained again. She thought it was sweet that they kept reassuring her that.

"I know, but I want to. If it's not too much for you guys..."

"No, go ahead, if you want."

"Uh, he lowkey emotionally manipulated me by telling me I wasn't good enough for anyone and stuff and how he was the only one who could ever love me. The second part he said truly believing that he was being romantic. There are a lot worse and specific things engraved in my brain but that's the gist of what he would tell me. He made me believe that I could never leave him because I could never be loved by anyone else. But he said it all in a way that... he thought he was just... letting me in on something no one else had the guts to tell me."

George gasped. "What?! Bugsy, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was like that."

"Woah, what the hell? No. Absolutely not. Don't give this guy a second thought. Cut him off for good," Dream said sternly, angry that anyone would say that to anyone, especially to someone like Y/n. "Wait, so, you broke up with him?"

"Yeah. After Karl yelled at me a lot and explained his outside point of view, I finally realized Peter was gaslighting me and emotionally abusing me and stuff so I dumped him. I guess right now I'm just upset by it because I thought we were past this and I was healing and him reaching out affected me again. I'm just emotionally exhausted. Like I said, it hurts to know that he doesn't realize what he did to me."

"I'm really sorry, Bug," Dream said softly. "Gimme his address and I'll punch him for you."

She laughed through her nose. "That's okay. Thanks."

"Yeah, she can go set his house on fire if she wants. She's proven that already."

"Shut up, George," she said with a small laugh.

"Wh......at?" Dream stuttered and George briefly explained.

"Well, Bug, just so you know, in case you weren't aware, you're really cool and sweet and funny and we really like having you around–" Dream started.

"Oh, ugh, no don't do this," she tried to joke but he ignored her as he continued his speech.

"–and you're way too good to be hanging out with either of us, and whatever that asshole was showing you wasn't love. 'No one could love you like he did' because what he was doing was not love, it was abuse." Dream's voice had a certain gentleness to it as he spoke that comforted Y/n and made her believe him. He was blunt but it didn't stab her in the heart like it should have.

If Y/n ever cried, she might have just then from how sweet they were both being. But she didn't because that wasn't something she did. She never cried over anything Peter said, never cried during movies, and didn't cry then. But she did smile very fondly at the Discord screen in front of her.

"Thank you, Dream."

"You know I'm not good with words, but, yeah, what Dream said," George said. "I'm sorry you had to go through that thinking it was normal. Please, please, do not get back together with him and please don't be friends with him."

"He's fine as a friend though."

"Bug. Whether he's fine as a friend doesn't matter, he doesn't deserve to have you as a friend. He treated you like shit, it's okay to be a little cold to him."

She sighed. They were right. "Okay." There was a long pause before, "thanks, guys. Sorry for coming in here and dumping my problems on you—"

"Don't be sorry," George said. "We're the ones that asked you to come in and share. We knew what we signed up for and don't regret it."

"Seriously, Bug, we care about you. You're allowed to, you know, talk about yourself." How did he know that's what she meant by that sentence? The way he could read her mind was heart-warming.

"Also, George knows this but Dream, there's a strict no-telling policy about this kinda thing. Please don't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't even think of it," he promised. "My lips are sealed."

"Good."

A soft animal noise came from one of their mics and Y/n strained her ears to listen. "Was that a cat?"

"Patches has entered the chat," George joked.

Dream chuckled. "Yeah, my cat just jumped on my lap."

"Aw, you have a cat? Lemme see lemme see lemme see!" Y/n begged. "Partly because I would love if we could stop talking about my ex-boyfriend and the other part because I love cats."

"There's pictures of her in the pets channel on Discord—"

"No, no I want a picture of her on your lap. Is she all snuggled up?"

"Yeah, she is."

"PleASE, Dream. I need to see the snuggly cat."

"Fine, fine, if you insist. Give me a second."

A few moments later, she got a DM from Dream and smiled at the picture. His room was dark but the computer screen cast a cold glow over a ball of fur on a lap clad in sweatpants. "Awww, she's so cute."

"Dream, I wanna see it too," George whined. "Send it to the pets channel."

"I'm literally making this my lock screen," Y/n informed, making Dream laugh.

"No, George, it's only for Bug. She's had a bad day so she gets exclusive Patches content."

"What? That is so messed up."

"You know what's messed up, George?" Dream asked. "You never come to me with advice on how to reject girls. We're on the phone for 12 hours a day but you can't talk to me about girls? Do you know how that makes me feel?"

"You'll just make fun of me."

"Why would I? What makes you think that?"

"Because Sapnap and I make fun of you? So obviously you and him would make fun of me?" George said with a laugh.

"....that's fair."

Y/n locked her phone and clicked the home button to admire her new lock screen. "I love her," she whispered.

Dream and George both laughed. "I'm regretting sending you that. You're gonna, like, make a shrine or something."

"What would be wrong with that? She's precious. She deserves a shrine."

"Yeah, Dream, you're the one that feeds her gormet cooked food," George teased with a laugh. "You probably have a shrine."

"That's normal! That's what people feed their cats! That's completely normal!"

"I don't," George countered.

"Then what do you feed your cat?" Dream asked.

"I dunno, normal cat food?"

"Wait! You have a cat too??" Y/n asked. "I feel like we're missing a huge detail and it's that George never told me he had a cat."

"And a dog."

"WHAT? GEORGE! Send me pictures!!!!!"

"I can't right now, it's like three am. They're sleeping. Look in the pets channel."

"You're the worst," she grumbled, clicking and scrolling to find his pets. She saw a lot of cute pictures of other peoples pets along the way but couldn't find George's.

"Hey, do your animals have English accents?" Dream asked, making Y/n laugh.

"What?" George scoffed. "You're so stupid."

"How would that even sound?" Y/n asked.

"Like..." Dream thought, preparing to test out how it would hypothetically sound. "Meow," Dream meowed in his best accent, failing miserable.

"Oh gosh, never do that again," Y/n begged.

Dream laughed into his mic. "That was disgusting. George, I really hope your pets don't have accents."

"They're animals, so probably not. And if they did, it definitely wouldn't sound like whatever that was."

"Oh come on–"

"OH I FOUND THEM." Y/n announced as she found a message from George in the pets channel with the message 'heard we're sharing our pets'. "GEORGE. THEY'RE SO CUTE."

"Are you gonna make them your background picture now?" George asked.

"What, no way! It's Patches!" Dream scoffed.

"Yeah, I'll make George's pets my home screen. Oh, what a good day." As soon as she said it, a metal bowling ball fell to her stomach, reminding her of all the reasons it was, in fact, not a good day.

She got off after a while, feeling the weight of a particular idiot man's stupid simple text catch up with her again. She thanked Dream and George for letting her join, they invited her to always hang out with them, and she went on her way.

Y/n fell on her bed and curled up under the covers as her mind started to wander from Peter to Dream. She was really glad she met him. He was a really good person and he was always so incredibly kind to her. George and Sapnap and Karl were all great friends, so caring and understanding and always looking out for her, but Dream was different and she didn't know why.

Maybe it was because he seemed untouchable still, like he had no reason to hang out around someone like her. But he wasn't untouchable in the celebrity was since he had a large following, because all of her friends did and they didn't seem untouchable. Then what was it? What set him apart from, say, Karl? She trusted Karl with her life and had known him for quite a while. She knew Dream for maybe a few weeks and almost trusted him the same amount.

Why?

She picked her phone up off the bed and pulled up Twitter, deciding to DM Dream since he was already existing in her mind rent-free. Might as well make him pay his rent by bothering him.

*********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

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A/N: EEEEEEEE I hope that all made sense lmaaoooo basically yn ex = gaarrbbaaagggeeeee and ruined her self-worth a lot!! not poggers!!!!!! THANK U GUYS FOR BEING SO SWEET ALL THE TIME ALL FOR ALL THE POSITIVE FEEDBACK ON ALL THE CHAPTERS!!! I love seeing you guys make predictions and tell me how aljkDFB chapters make you feel bc same :/

taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #clay x reader #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #social media fic #dream social media fic #social media au

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bastillia · 3 years

Text

Loyalties Lie

AO3 Mirror

Summary: You're a bartender in a Lothal cantina, living a quiet life in the Outer Rim after the fall of the Empire. You can't help but wonder what more might be out there for you. One dangerous guest in particular keeps catching your eye. Unfortunately, you've also caught his.

Rating: E

Words: 6.1k

Warnings: possibly mild dubcon, threats with a weapon, rough sex, verbal degradation, mentions of alcohol, cumplay, Boba Fett has a 24oz monster can dick and he knows how to use it.

A/N: Remember when I said I had a Boba Fett WIP laying around like, months ago? Well guess who showed up in Mando S2 with a sexy dad bod and the fattest dick in the galaxy to overhaul my dreams and make them a reality. Fuck me. Yes this is the first thing I’ve written in months hi I’m still here. No I don’t know how many chapters this will be. I live in hell. Welcome. Thank you to @kylorengarbagedump for graciously beta reading and listening to me literally scream about this man all the time. Love y’all so much PLEASE ENJOY.

It’s the kind of night that hums.

Like a moonlit Lothal prairie, quiet and alive somewhere beyond the outskirts of town. Except that in here, the crickets swoop past your bar to buy shots, and the stars fall steadily to become the lovely tink of credits in your tip jar. The twin moons are shifting hues of neon light, and time seems to stroll by, like it has nowhere better to be.

Tonight has been steady.

It’s not busy enough tonight to challenge you, but not slow enough to let you rest. Your guard is up, as it always is when you’re behind the bar. But your hold on it can afford to be loose.

Tonight has been…

Boring.

No brawls, no assassinations, not even a drunken paw fumbling across the bar towards your tits, attached to some overly rowdy patron who you then get to watch with quiet glee as they’re dragged out by the ears. No, in fact, it’s hard to remember the last time something remotely interesting happened around here. So much for the Outer Rim’s rugged reputation. You hate to say you miss the Empire’s occupation from time to time. But at least it brought nightly intrigue.

Tonight, your guests are especially calm and happy, lulled by liquor and the easy flow of conversation, murmurs blending like a stream through the grassland. And you suppose you shouldn’t complain. You’ve more than earned your keep for the night, and then some. Best of all, your boss has no reason to be breathing down your neck.

In fact, he’s happy, too, you note when the Lasat’s bellowing business-laugh resounds overtop a few flutes of spotchka, glowing inside a booth across the room. You pass a cloth around the rim of a clean glass, feeling a tickle of interest as to who he might be schmoozing this time. When you glance up, you can just make out a pair of well-dressed Rodians seated across from him through the leisure-thick air of the cantina, nudging each other and laughing at whatever witty, schmoozy thing he just said.

A soft snort puffs through your nose. At least Dakk is a predictable man, if nothing else. Must be rich folk, probably well connected. Good. You’ll get no help tonight, but at least he will be occupied for a while.

In fact...

Flicking a quick glance around the room, you take your chance and shrug your outer tunic off your shoulders, quickly smoothing down your much more revealing undershirt until it clings to the shape of you. You know Dakk hates when you do this, always goes on about keeping the place “classy.” But he’s not looking, and if it puts a few extra credits in your jar by the end of the night, it’s worth it. Anyway, you’re in a good mood tonight. Bored nonetheless, and the combination always forges a mischievous kind of boldness in you; a tiny spark that glows just bright enough to cast the idea of consequence in shadow.

You scan the bar for an empty drink, a flirtatious urge rolling off of your freshly bared skin and filling your ribs with air. It’s not long before you hone on your target-- an unsuspecting guest sitting alone, head turned away. Probably eavesdropping. A smirk curves your lips and you sidle over, plink a glass down between you, leaning your elbows on the bartop.

“Something else for you, sugar?”

His head whips around with a guilty swiftness, but you just offer an easy smile, shifting your weight through your hips to coax his eyes down your body. It works like a charm.

“I, uh...“ The young Mirialan stammers directly at your tits. “Yeah, c-can I, ah…”

As you wait out his struggle, an idea sparks in your freshly emboldened mind. Maker’s sake, might as well help the poor thing out.

“Got a ruge liqueur in stock, last shipment off Alderaan. Rare these days.” Your lashes flutter, tongue just barely playing your along your lower lip as if teasing some unspoken promise. “I just couldn’t help but notice, you seem like a person of exceptional taste.”

The words are warm summer air on your tongue, practiced and enticing. You can see them go to the kid’s head like spice smoke, his cheeks immediately flushing deep emerald beneath diamond-shaped tattoos.

“Y-yeah?” He straightens, runs a hand through his hair, grinning sheepishly. “I mean...yeah! I, uh, I am. That s-sounds great, yeah. Um. Please.”

You smile. Too easy.

Now, it’s not technically a lie. You do have the ruge in stock, it’s just that--well, it’s definitely nothing this kid can afford. But you’d bet a week’s worth of tips that you can slip him a cheap offworld varietal instead. Charge him triple its price, pocket the excess. Poor thing wouldn’t know the real stuff if it bit him.

You swell with the thought. That amount might even let you buy something nice for yourself for once. It might be a little slimy, but... fuck it. Kid seems well off enough. Decently nice clothes, cologne, that misplaced air of belonging that comes with sheltered entitlement. Surely he won’t miss a few extra credits. Anyway, you deserve this, right?

Moving to speak again, you prepare to lay the flirting on thick, really sell the gambit. But before you get the chance, a loud bang snaps your attention upward just in time to see the cantina door slam open.

You straighten where you stand, irritation and curiosity pricking your ears in equal measure. But then a slight hush cuts the ease of your buzzing meadow, and your chest squeezes with it.

Boba Fett.

The hunter takes up almost the whole doorway, a broad tower of matte green beskar catching the soft neons of the cantina. The distinctly cold gaze of the Mandalorian helmet scans the room, stirring murmurs and averting eyes until it comes to rest, finally, upon you.

It feels like two cold weights set down on your shoulders, being the focus of that stare.

Even as the energy picks back up around you, as conversations cautiously resume, it’s like you’re trapped in it, breathless under its weight and unable to look away. You vaguely register the Mirialan turn back to your tits and ask them something about when your shift ends. But you’re still transfixed, watching the armored man take a few deliberate steps towards the bar and straddle a stool, the visor trained like a crosshair upon you as his forearms settle on the bartop.

You’ve seen him here before. Heard his name whispered in weighted ripples ever since news spread through the Outer Rim that Bib Fortuna was dead. Since then, he’s come through maybe once every few dozen cycles, each time with a couple new chips in the paint of his armor. He comes here on business--or at least you assume that’s what it must be, since he always meets someone, speaks in hushed tones enshrouded by the dim corner booth in the back. He’ll toss a few credits on the bar when he leaves, but has never uttered a word to you, never ordered a drink.

Never even glanced your way, for all you know. Until right now.

You swallow. Fucking hell, if there’s anything you’re used to, it’s being looked at. So why is this gaze kicking your pulse up into the base of your throat, making you feel exposed? A prickle of heat is already settling in your cheeks.

And then the visor cocks, and just barely tilts down the length of your figure.

A tight breath snaps into your lungs, and your eyes dart to the bartop, across the room, back to the Mirialan still babbling dumbly at you, your face now hot. Kriff, what is wrong with you? Since when are you outright flustered by some stranger copping an eyeful? You try to breathe, ignoring how the hairs stand on your neck.

But you can still feel his attention like the heat of a sun warming your bare shoulder, and it makes something start to coil in your belly and glow there.

“I’ll have that ruge right up, sweetheart.”

You’re pretty sure you interrupt the kid, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just calls out a stammered thank-you as you pivot away towards your new guest, your heart kicking against your sternum. Your feet almost feel weighted to the floor, and by the time you reach him, your pulse has an edge like a blade.

“Something I can interest you in?”

There’s a breathlessness to the warm air of your voice now, and you pray to the Maker that it doesn’t betray you. You lean against the bar, hoping that the solidity of the wood will somehow teach your nerves to follow its example. It doesn’t.

He seems to study you for a moment, motionless. And then his shoulders shift, his elbows widen, and he leans in towards you.

“Information.” His voice is low and direct, barely above a graveled whisper, the single accent-laden word dragging through your belly and sparking like metal on stone.

Fuck.

Of course he’s after the one thing you’re not willing to sell.

Your heart stalls while your mind starts to race, eyes searching the dark visor. Of course you’d be a fool to deny him, and he knows it. That’s why he’s asking you. Why would you risk rousing a scene in your own bar, especially when the night is so mercifully calm? Easier to give him what he wants. Tap into your collection of liquor-loosened secrets, and knowledge of the local crowd.

The thing is, you’ve built a good rapport for your discretion. You think. Not to mention the number of cutting warnings Dakk has laid on you about the consequences for selling secrets in his bar. Is it really worth risking? Fett intimidates you, no doubt. But he’s also banking on the assumption that you won’t make this difficult for him. He has to be. And now unease and excitement are starting to play a game of catch between your ribs with that tiny, dangerous spark of boldness.

“Fresh out.” Your fingers drum the wood beneath them, trying to ground your reflexes through the rush of adrenaline that accompanies your words. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you stare into the blackness of the visor as you let the tiniest, playful smirk flit over your face. “Perhaps something to drink?”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Boba Fett settles back on the bar stool. Unease lances you, splintering with the immediate question of whether you just made the right choice. You don’t want to think about how many he’d manage to kill before you could even blink, if he decided to do something extreme. His hand starts to shift back along his thigh, drawing a path towards the blaster at his hip. You swallow, panic pricking your neck.

Just as your muscles are primed to dive behind the bar, convinced you’re going to have to evade his quickdraw, his palm just takes a lazy rest on the hilt. The helmet levels, and then leans slowly to the side.

“No.”

Dizzied, you blink. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking through that helmet, and he’s offered you all of two words. But was that… amusement, you heard? No. Anger? Fuck, now you’re really imagining things.

Still a little breathless, you straighten, sensing that you’re dismissed. The thought of flirting with a killer was a much-needed rush, but you need to take his indifference as a mercy after that little stunt and get on with your job while he’s giving you the chance. What little you apparently have left of a survival instinct is at least telling you that much.

You shrug.

“Suit yourself.”

It feels dangerous to take your eyes off of him. But you force yourself to do so anyways, turning your back on the hunter and making your way to the dim doorway at the end of the bar, his attention still heating your spine.

It’s a fucking relief to slip through the door to the storage room, ease the door shut behind you, and for the first time in what feels like moons, you let a long breath fill your lungs. The familiar scent of dust and wine-aged wood floods you, and something like disappointment tugs at your heart.

Maybe that stupid, adventure-craving side of your imagination took things too far, fueled by your boredom and the prospect of something exciting finally happening. You suppose you projected that naive hope onto Boba Fett, if nothing else just because he’s the first person to come through here in a long time that actually intrigues you. That confounds your prized, finely-calibrated radar for reading people without having to speak a word to them.

Fuck, he really wouldn’t give you much more than a word, would he? Guess he’s determined to keep scrambling your sensors. It shouldn’t deject you as much as it does. But... come on, the least the son of a mudscuffer could do is flirt back if he was gonna fucking undress you with his eyes like that.

Or maybe that was just your imagination, too.

You sigh, scanning a shelf on the back wall for a ruge that will make a convincing enough dupe. A synthetic varietal, perhaps. No--too cheap. You’ve got something from a Naboo vineyard in here somewhere. Anyways, whatever, since when are you desperate for any man’s attention?

No, okay, it’s... you know that isn’t what this is really about.

It would just be nice to feel important, is all. Like the secrets you’ve gathered might be worth something. Could someday give you a place in something bigger. Or at least like anything about you might be worth more than equivalent to a shot of shitty spotchka.

Forget it. As if that will ever happen.

Your finger absently traces the dusty label of a bottle, and then a soft clink of metal behind you freezes your blood.

You whip around to meet a wall of beskar, inches from your face.

You start to scream, but the sound catches in your throat when a big hand seizes you by the back of the neck and wrenches you around, bending you at the hips and slamming you chest-down against the stale wood of a storage crate. Cold metal presses your thighs and your heart smacks your ribs, your body completely trapped under Boba Fett’s mass in one motion.

“I said I need information, little one, and you’re going to give it to me.” His voice scrapes over your body, sliding through the dim room like the shadow from a candle flame. You quail beneath him, brain racing with shock.

“I d-don’t—ugh!” The weight of his forearm comes down between your shoulder blades, pressing breathy little grunts from your lungs as you squirm. “I don’t sell out my customers.”

You freeze when the distinct click of a blaster registers right at your temple.

“Never said I was buying.”

Panic zips down your spine, your chest heaving against the wooden crate as heat slams your core. Somewhere, your rational brain is scrambling to parse the threat, but something about the sheer filth and danger of it is setting your whole body on fire, making far more primal nerves come alive. Trying to shake the feeling, you squirm.

“At lea--ngh, least nothing’s changed there.”

Fucking hell, what are you doing? Besides sassing the known murderer with a blaster currently trained at your head, alone in a dark room. Yet somehow that very fact is making arousal bloom so wicked and fast that you can already start to feel your cunt throb against the fabric of his pants.

“Willing to die to protect a few spineless slime crawlers who don’t even know your name?” Boba rocks his weight against you, powerful and lazy in the way he simply leans into his hips, grinds them up hard against your ass to keep you flattened over the edge of the crate. “Boss man lines his pockets while his good little pet works for scraps.” Air feels more scarce to your lungs by the second. “Interesting, how your loyalties lie.”

Indignance flares up your spine.

“I w-ouldn’t expect you to understand.” You try to put venom in the words, but it’s difficult between your breathlessness and the sheer eroticism of this position you’re in. “Small price to pay, f-for a good life.”

Through your annoyance, you can’t help feeling a twinge of enjoyment at his solidity, at how you can just discern the outline of him through his pants. An excited thrum of your pulse snaps to your core like a fuse.

Above you, Boba Fett chuckles.

“Is that what he gives you?” There’s a mockery to his tone that heats your blood, and you start to squirm in defiance before remembering the blaster at your temple. Fett simply crushes you harder, drawing your attention back to his crotch. “Seems to me like you’re the mouse in his attic.”

“I suppose you’re better than him? Than any of them?” you immediately bite, not wanting to acknowledge the truth behind his words. Instead, you grab that spark of bravery and crank the voltage until it drowns your doubt, throwing your caution to the stars faster than punching an airlock in hyperspace. “Do you even know m-my name, Mando?” A tiny giggle ripples your chest. “I know yours.”

“Might be the last one you know,” Boba growls, but you’re becoming fixated on his cock now, the way you could swear that it’s growing more distinct by the second.

Fear and pleasure wrack your brain, the combination intensifying so deliciously with the pressure of his groin against your ass that you can hardly think straight any more. In a moment of sick indulgence, you arch your back and shift just slightly, wanting to feel that pressure against something now pulsing and sensitive.

The grip on your neck locks tight, and your breath stops.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, princess.”

He kicks your legs apart and crushes his hardening bulge against your pussy. And, fuck, you moan. You don’t even mean to, but the thrill of helplessness has you so mindlessly turned on that you can’t stop the noise from squeezing out of your throat.

“Filthy little thing you are.”

There’s a shift in his tone now. The vice hold disappears from your nape just before your pants are wrenched unceremoniously over your ass and down to mid thigh. You gasp at the feeling of air brushing your bare lips. He takes a moment, and you think he must be looking at you. Heat blossoms from your face all the way down to your chest, and then he’s against you again, a palm coming down between your shoulders as coarse fabric presses flush with your cunt.

You can really feel the outline of his cock now, hard enough to rival his armor but warm and thick against you, and you whimper. It’s only a click that snaps your awareness back to the weapon pointed at your head.

“Let’s try this again, little mouse.” Boba’s voice comes lower and airier through the vocoder now in a way that blazes right through you. “You give me what I want, and perhaps you’ll inspire my generosity.”

In emphasis of his intent, he rocks his erection against the cleft of your pussy. Your eyes snap wide, an almost painful stab of arousal making you immediately whine louder than you intend to. “Fuck--oh, please!”

“Careful.” His hand slides up your neck, angling your face so that he can see it twist in shame and pleasure. “Wouldn’t want anyone finding you like this.”

Your cheeks blaze. Shallow breaths stutter in your lungs as his thumb tugs the pillow of your lower lip. And then he releases you, his hand moving back somewhere you can’t sense. The pressure against your ass shifts for a moment, just before the wide, hot shaft of his bare cock caresses your cunt.

“Last night there was a man here, Mon Cala, middle aged.” Your body is on fire as he speaks, the skin to skin contact dousing your brain in blind want. You grit your teeth, screw your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on what he’s saying while your pussy twinges around nothing. “He talked to the owner here, then he met with someone. Tell me who.”

A reluctant whimper leaves your lips, and the noise might just be one of the most pathetic you’ve ever made as your tongue still stubbornly refuses to slip. But Fett’s words ring again through your head with a resentful pang: the mouse in his attic. Is that what you’ll die as?

At your temple, the blaster’s safety disengages.

“Fuck! Okay, okay.” Your breath comes heavily, brain uncertain and lust-addled, fumbling for the details. “He um. Met a--mmh, a woman, I d-didn’t catch her name. Please--” Your voice trails off in a soft whine, your hips shifting back, trying to find the means to swallow his cock where it teases your tender core, entice him with the diversion now that you’ve given him a crumb.

“You must be dumber than I took you for, sweetling.” His hips retreat slightly, evading you. The sheer display of restraint is infuriating, electrifying. It shallows your breath with need. He stills again, a rough, gloved hand running firmly up your spine, pushing your shirt up to bare more of your skin to his view. “Tell me the rest.”

Your teeth set with a final, feeble whine of hesitation. More instinct than anything. But then a cold ring of metal presses your temple, and fresh fear unbinds your tongue in a deluge.

“S-she had, ah--civilian clothes, but, um… an Imperial s-standard issue blaster.” Your eyes screw in concentration, details flickering like a glitchy holocom through your brain. “I heard them talk about, uh. A shipment. For… Fuck, uh. Th-three cycles from now.”

Boba hums, a sound that makes your eyes roll back as you feel yourself nearly dripping against him, your slick coating his cock where it just barely parts you.

“Smart girl.” His hand drags indulgently down your back, coming to rest on your hip and squeezing. “Where’s the shipment going, princess?”

Torture. This is some kind of galactic war crime, you’re sure of it. Pleasure surges from your teased cunt and his grip on your flesh, and his voice is almost soothing now, coaxing you further towards complacency. It’s all too much. Your head rests against the crate, defeat washing in a gentle tide over you.

“Going... to Hosnian Prime.”

A soft, satisfied puff of noise comes from the modulator. The barrel retreats from your temple.

“Now, there’s a good girl.”

Warmth crashes through your lower belly, a strange and exhilarating sensation that suddenly makes you want to... purr? No one has ever spoken to you like this, and it’s tickling a part of your brain that feels far, far too good. But then his cock glides thick and heavy along your folds, obliterating your thoughts, and all you can think about is having that inside of you.

“Fuck,” you whine as he slowly aligns himself, teasing up and down the drenched, tender flesh of your pussy. He takes his time, massaging the blunt head over your clit and sending little shocks through your muscles, making you shiver and clench. “Please, please…”

“Tame little creature when you want to be,” he grits, pressing against your entrance with an exhaled groan. “Keep being good for me.”

Slowly, he starts to push. And, oh, fuck.

You’re not ready.

You’re wetter and needier than you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re still not fucking ready to take a cock like this one when it crushes in and stretches you, setting an ache through your hips that tells you whatever happens, you’re bound to feel him for days.

A cry sticks in your throat and you will yourself to breathe, to relax as he sinks in further, forcing your walls to flutter and part around him. It truly feels like being broken open, and your fingers have to dig into the wood beneath you when he pulls out an inch and then pushes again, sinking deeper this time as a choked noise pulls through the vocoder.

By the time he finally bottoms out, you swear you can feel him shifting your guts. Every muscle in your pelvis is straining to take him, the intensity mind-numbing already. You’re nearly choking on your own attempts to breathe while he pauses, sheathed like this for a few moments, seeming to concentrate on his own breathing at the same time.

And then his voice comes again, a growl, pitched even lower and more ferocious than before through a clutched breath.

“Fuck, you’re a tight little thing.”

Stars.

This is different.

It’s so hard to think, you’ve never felt more full, but something in the back of your mind is unfurling, turning hot and primal with a roiling kind of need that burgeons and begs at the feeling of his cock rooted so fucking deep inside of you. You’ve had sex before, sure, but this…

You’re about to get fucked.

“Please…” you mewl. Desperation pierces you when you feel his fingers flex strong and firm around your hip in response. You turn your head, trying to glimpse him--only to realize that the blaster is still right next to your face, its angle nonchalant, close enough to brush your lips.

Your mind is so drenched in lust, the first urge that strikes you is to stick out your tongue and wet the metal, its sharp alloy piercing your senses and making your pussy seize with the shudder of danger.

In your periphery, you see the visor snap to attention, like he wasn’t fully looking at you before, lost in his own pleasure. But now he is. And he gives the weapon an experimental twist, allowing for your lips to wrap, delicate and wet, just around the tip of the barrel.

“Fearless little mouse.” There’s something dark and charged in his voice. “You look good like that.”

A slight wiggle to open your jaw, and the blaster shoves past your lips, resting thick and cold on your tongue, lighting your spine with a new thrill. Your voice swells on a muffled moan around it, such a soft and lovely sound to accompany a thing that’s orchestrated countless deaths.

“There we are. Nice and quiet now.”

Finally, finally, he starts to thrust, slow and measured, forcing your body to yield around the width of him. Something burns hot in your belly with each steady stroke, wiping your brain of everything but his presence.

The rough material of a glove smothers one of your asscheeks, grips and pulls at the pillowy flesh, spreading you open as his thrusts take up a steady, powerful rhythm. Boba Fett lets out a long groan, and you can only imagine the view he has right now. It sears you alive, the knowledge that he likes looking at you like this, pitching and whimpering with his rhythm, the sight of your pussy stretched, helpless around his cock and your mouth wetting his blaster.

Your spit slicks the barrel more with every thrust, and you can feel the mechanics shifting dangerously between your lips. But his trigger finger is steadier than death, and his control gives you the nerve to let your tongue lick out along the barrel, bathe in the electric wash of fear that sets all of your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarls as his pace starts to kick up wilder.

Intense pleasure cracks through you now, visceral in a way you’ve never felt, and it’s all you can do to keep relatively quiet. The barrel on your tongue is a sharp enough reminder, yet it fuels your arousal to burn hotter and wetter all the same. The more you concentrate on the powerful bliss coiling in your core and rippling outwards, the more you can feel yourself starting to tighten around him, your body yearning vaguely towards a release it can’t seem to center on.

You hear him groan as you squeeze him, his grip on your flesh flexing and shifting. A few more strong thrusts, and then his cock pulls all the way out of you with a woeful pang, the blaster vacating your mouth in the same motion to leave you empty, dizzied and clenching. But before you can unscramble your brain, the blaster slots back into its holster and he’s moving you. With an effortless kind of control, he flips you over, shifting you until the solid wood of the crate supports your ass.

He hikes both of your legs onto one shoulder and in one swift, easy motion, whisks your pants over your shoes and off of your ankles, tossing them carelessly into the darkness of the room before hooking your legs around his armored waist.

“Going to watch you cum, princess. Nice and pretty.”

Your mouth opens on a gasp at his words, and a gloved thumb immediately presses your tongue, the taste of leather and plasma residue grounding your senses enough to register that he’s lining his cock back up at the heat of your entrance. You whine around his thick digit, and he growls somewhere low in his chest as he pushes the thick head back in, this new angle making you see stars all over again.

He doesn’t bother letting you adjust this time, just uses your wetness to his advantage to start railing through your tightness, burning and stretching you as that warm swell starts to crest again. It’s such a deep, full feeling, spreading a delicious ache from the spot where he hits you deep in your tummy.

Your brows draw together, your whines pitching higher as you search the visor. It’s a wordless plea, your vision swallowed by the power of him fucking you deep, your body now screaming to cum but needing something you can’t quite pinpoint.

The hunter’s thumb slips out of your mouth, his hand forging an eager path down your body. He palms your tit over your shirt, before grabbing the low collar and yanking it down, baring your nipples to his view one after the other. His whole hand spans your torso as he hooks the lower hem with his thumb, bunching the material until both your belly and tits are bare, your shirt like a handle at your diaphragm that he uses to pound you even harder, watching your body jolt, overpowered by his thrusts.

Airy little wails brush through your lips, the pleasure all too intense and not enough at the same time. You can’t take it anymore, you need something on your clit, and your fingers twitch to seek out that precious target. But he’s already moving, his hips slowing to a lazier pace while his free hand finds some destination at his belt, and what he produces freezes you in your tracks.

“Steady now,” he breathes as he slips a long blade out of his belt and spins it by the hilt, his fingers almost too quick, too tactful for such a brute.

Instinctual panic grips you at the sight of the weapon, making your legs try to close. But he’s pushed too deep in you, his frame has you pinned open, and there’s nothing you can do against the sheer breadth of his body. Powerless, you simply whimper.

“Wh… what are y--”

“Hush, princess.”

A flick of his thumb and the vibroblade springs to life, its hum filling the quiet air. He starts to bring the blunt hilt of it down where your body yields to his. Alarm pierces you one final time, but then he touches the pommel, just barely, against the tender swell of your clit.

You want to fucking scream. As if in anticipation of this, he claps his hand over your mouth just in time for you to bite down on his glove while your eyes roll back in a powerful wave of ecstasy. The vibrations surge through the sensitive nerves, lighting your whole body up in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s pure bliss, and then a low, long growl slips through the helmet’s modulator at the feeling of your walls pulsing tight, strangling his cock.

His thrusts deepen again, powerful and steady, stroking some devastating spot deep inside you. Your muffled wails get lost in the breath-dampened fabric of his glove while the intense pleasure crests from your clit, higher, higher, lasering in on that intangible cusp and barreling you straight towards it.

You suspend at the peak, all senses failing, and then your orgasm takes you in a riptide, surging through your nerves like liquid fire. The magnitude of it rends you, stronger than you’ve ever felt, dragging you under and forcing you to ride it out while it just pulls and pulls. By the time you regain your sight you’re shaking, waves of bliss still pulsing and crashing through your body in time to the strong rhythm of his hips, the glowing epicenter that unwavering vibration at your clit.

Sobs wrack your chest, pour out high and lose themselves somewhere in the meat of his hand, and you think you try to catch a few breaths, but you can’t even come down. Boba’s voice cuts through the rush in your ears.

“Good. Good girl.”

He holds the buzzing hilt of the blade impossibly steady against your clit and that glow is still so bright, twitching, starting to spill through your nerves again and holy shit you think you just might--

“Again.”

Your second orgasm shreds you like a plasma cannon.

You’re blind, numb to everything but the intense pleasure, nerves now as raw and sharp as the edge of the blade itself. His hand is tight over your face and you feel your cunt convulsing and gushing around his cock, slick cum spilling to wet your asscheeks, and it must be your own because his pace hasn’t let up.

A clatter resounds on the edge of your consciousness and when your eyes come into focus, Boba’s hand is locking into your waist, the blade discarded somewhere in the room. His hips piston hard with a few vulgar slaps of flesh, the head of his cock crushing against your deepest parts before he wrenches out of you and spills over your bare stomach with a strangled roar, gripping himself at the base and thrusting against you as warm, thick ropes paint your skin.

His release is long. Grunts distort into rough static through the vocoder as he rides out the last pulses, until finally he braces himself on the crate beside your head, hunched over you like a beast, his chest plate rolling with heavy breaths. You can only blink at him through hazed, damp eyes, your body feeling weak and utterly fucked dumb. The hand over your mouth slowly unlocks its grip, dragging downwards and leaving you to take shallow gulps of air while he gives your tit a deliberate squeeze.

And then he drags himself off of you, straightening with an almost-concealed groan as he adjusts himself and leaves you to blink at the dark ceiling, still letting oxygen find your brain.

When you shakily manage to sit up, you just glimpse him slipping the discarded vibroblade back into his belt and turning towards the door. Even through your dizziness, you scoff. Figures. Bastard is just going to fuck your brains out and then leave you like this.

“You know,” you sigh, watching him and lazily trailing your fingers in a circle on your tummy, enjoying the lingering buzz of your skin and gathering a bit of his spend where it coats you, still warm. “I’d say that tip-off was at least worth a handful of credits in my jar on your way out.”

He turns and looks at you then, the helmet cocking in consideration for a moment. As soon as his attention is on you, your fingers move from his mess on your belly to your mouth, where you slowly suckle him off of your fingers, never once taking your eyes off the visor, a tiny ripple of playfulness wiggling your shoulders and curling your lips.

His shoulders square to you, and that hunter’s stance still makes your chest seize, sends a pulse to your exhausted pussy.

Metal clinks softly as he walks towards you, stepping between your knees until you’re forced to drop your hand from your mouth and look up at him, heart fluttering again. He brushes the knuckle of his forefinger under your chin.

“Fresh out.”

His back turns as you stare, speechless. And then the door swings on its hinges, and Boba Fett is gone.

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett smut #star wars fanfiction #smut #loyalties lie #my works #masterlist

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kaashiboo · 3 years

Note

ahah heeeey!!!!! can i request kenma, akaashi and sugawara as best friends with gender neutral reader?

thank you for your hard work i really enjoy reading your headcannons (灬º‿º灬)♡

haikyuu boys as your best friend

┇ kenma, akaashi, and suga

gn!reader

【warnings: none】

➢ general note: ohoho this is a very long one so buckle up!

✎ a/n: aaww this is request is cute! thank you for appreciating my work and i'm so glad you enjoy reading them! take care of yourself!<3

kenma

you've been friends with kenma and kuroo ever since you were a child but you're more close with kenma due to his chill personality.

but that doesn't mean that you're less chaotic

kenma honestly questions himself as to why he's best friends with you

but you're a bit more tolerable than kuroo he guesses.

"say, if i hypothetically and accidentally broke your swi— kenma, you're gonna kill me with your stare." you laugh nervously.

"give it to me." you removed your hand behind your back and gave him his switch with a pout.

"are you mad at me?" you asked, rubbing your nape. awkwardly.

kenma sighed loudly, "yeah."

"oh" your shoulders dropped.

"but it's fine since i already bought a new one. i'm mad because i was planning to give you this one but i guess we have to make someone check it out if it's still repairable." he replied and your eyes lit up in excitement.

"really?"

"yeah."

"but i don't have the money for it."

"we'll make kuroo pay." he shrugged and you tilted your head in confusion.

"eh? do you really think he would agree to that?"

"i don't know. maybe. just do all his work or compliment him everyday, that might work."

"are you two planning on how to murder me?" kuroo appears out of nowhere, ruffling kenma's and your hair.

"yes." the setter and you answered in unison.

people also wonder how you can keep up with kenma but you're honestly one of the people that can see through him and could tell whether something is bothering him.

and he never hesitated to show you what he really feels. if he's mad then you'd let him vent and let out all his frustrations.

and there were times as well where he just wanted to be away from anyone so you gave him space.

but because he finds you tolerable, he begged you to not distance yourself from him.

now, in terms of YOU being sad, we all know he's not the greatest when it comes to comforting people but he would always find a way to cheer you up like offering you to play games with him.

he would even let you do the interior design of his house in minecraft as long as he can see you're enjoying.

just like what others do, he would typically protect you from mobs while you pick up flowers.

but most of the time, you would have a competition on which person could kill as many mobs as they can.

you also would do stupid challenges that you see on youtube.

and late night walks with him are the best since you never had to worry about bothering him when he rarely sleeps early.

let me rephrase that real quick, it's mostly you walking around while kenma sits on a bench,,, still playing.

but he would occasionally look for you to make sure you weren't lost or kidnapped.

you would eventually get tired so you just... lay on the grass and roll around.

kenma puts down his switch, "what are you doing, y/n?"

"i'm bored. you're not even paying attention." you whispered the last part but he still caught it.

"alright, sorry. stand up now. let's go to the convenience store and crash at kuroo's house." he offered and you immediately agreed.

because the two of you never failed to be in the same class every year, your classmates would be confused since you two would verbally fight and give each other a silent treatment and then one second later, you would give him food and he tries to help you beat the level you're currently on with the game you're playing.

and in the timeskip, the three of you have stable jobs like, rich rich rich very rich.

"at this point, we can be your sugar daddies." kuroo jokes but you paid no attention to him as you were still busy processing with what kenma gave you as a present.

literally everything you need for streaming— heck, you're not even sure if you would use all of them.

but kenma still wanted to drag you along with him to do things that he loves

not that you'd complain about it anyway.

"you're helping me set everything up." you finally recovered from your state of shock and pulled kenma up from your couch.

akaashi

and the best 'best friend' award goes to akaashi keiji!

look, just because he's a laid-back person, doesn't mean he's unaware of how to push your buttons.

he would subtly annoy you. so subtle that not everyone could notice that you wanted to murder him on the spot.

"akaashi keiji, i will seriously ki—"

"it's settled then! y/n, please come to my office now." the teacher spoke, making you groan in frustration before standing up but you made sure to purposely step on his foot and he silently winced in pain.

the chat with the teacher didn't take long and when you exited the office, you saw your best friend standing outside, waiting for you with a barely noticeable smirk.

yeah, we might have to take back his award.

you rolled your eyes and walked past him but he grabbed your bag and pulled you back.

"sorry, do i know you?" you scoffed.

"look, i'm sorry. i already told you that you shouldn't sleep in class." he reminded, implying that him dragging you into doing something was a sort of consequence from sleeping in class.

"i know! but you decided to be annoying again and volunteered that i would help with some activity." you complained. he still hasn't let go of your bag but you continued walking which may or may not made it look like you were his pet.

akaashi knows you're not actually mad at him and so he didn't have to bother to apologize again.

"if it makes you feel better, i volunteered first before you. at least we're now both busy."

you didn't respond and continued walking, "where are you going?" he asks.

"home."

"no."

"no?"

"i have practice," he said.

"what does that have to do with me?!" you wailed.

"nothing." you facepalmed and let him pull you to the gym.

the first time you met was during middle school. you were crying because you lost a competition and unfortunately for you, akaashi was the one who won.

he tried comforting you but you pushed him away.

akaashi was persistent though. he didn't want you to stay mad at him and so he bothered you everyday until you finally started to warm up to him.

you sighed for the ninth time. deciding to make a paper plane and throw it to akaashi's way.

it fortunately hit his forehead and he 'tsk-ed' at your action but he continued reading the book anyway.

you reached for the plane, crumpling it until it's round.

"i thought you were gonna teach me?" you question and threw the paper at him, again but lucky for him, he caught it.

he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "how am i supposed to teach you if you keep throwing things at me?"

you see, you're smart but there are certain subjects that you really hate and you coincidentally got sick during a discussion and now you and akaashi are currently studying in the library.

he knows he could have just lent you his notes and you can just take a photo of it but he wouldn't let you do that because his reasoning was, "you'll learn better if you write it down." you've complained to him about it many times and he'll eventually get tired and not give you anything so now you've learned your lesson,

don't annoy keiji.

but sometimes, he's kind enough to cover for you when you're asleep during class and would lie to the teachers by saying you're sick.

which rarely happens since he doesn't always tolerate you so being friends with him feels like having a parent watch you all the time.

"maybe if i befriended konoha then i'm already done with this." you huffed.

"he doesn't have the patience to deal with you, y/n." you let out an offended gasp before throwing your pencil case at him.

honestly speaking, the two of you get along really well. you're more talkative and he tends to listen to your rants a lot.

and of course, he would also share to you how his day went and how he found a new way to get bokuto out of his emo mode.

hanging out with him outside of school can be chaotic at times.

especially if you decide to go to the arcade because expect him to tease you a lot when you couldn't get the prize you wanted.

he would help you though:)

and since you two are a popular duo, you would often get a lot of confessions from boys and akaashi would ramble about how it's a waste of time and that you should focus on your studies.

but he would also reassure you that he'll support you no matter what decision you make.

in conclusion, he's a bit confusing and indecisive but he just wants the best for you but then he would also start thinking that he's being controlling of your own life.

akaashi also can't keep his cool sometimes,

"i can't believe they cheated on me." you hugged your legs closer to your chest as you sob.

his practice was already over but he insisted that the two of you stay at the gym so that you could talk to him about your problems.

"they’re an asshole, y/n." he replied.

usually, he would rub circles on your back when you're crying but this time, he stayed still on his seat so you glanced at him and frowned.

"you weren't even paying attention," you said.

"i was," he stopped typing on his phone to look at you.

"i was just searching up ways how to murder someone without getting caught." he joked and you chuckled.

"just kidding. i was ordering your favorite food. now stand up and wipe your tears. don't let that asshole see you vulnerable. show him that you don't even need him in the first place because you don't need anyone, 'kay?" he pulled you up and nodded at his advice.

"except for me, of course. how else would you be alive if it weren't for me?"

"i have my own parents." you rolled your eyes playfully.

"they don't love you— they prefer me." he teased once again. earning a punch from you.

suga

aDMIT IT, SUGA IS SO FUN TO BE WITH.

like sureeee he would help you most of the time

but he's also the same person that would get you in trouble.

"vice principal, i am so sorry! i didn't mean to knock off your wig! please don't suspend me—"

"it's fine, l/n. just go and don't tell anyone." the old man sighed.

you bowed and left, running to where suga was standing.

you saw your friend biting his lower lip to stifle a laugh.

you glared at him but you couldn't help but to cackle at what happened and now you two are being noisy in the hallway that made others look at you weirdly.

"i told you, he's bald!" he exclaimed and your laugh couldn't get any louder until you start coughing from the lack of oxygen.

"oH MY GOD— DON'T DIE ON ME Y/N," he said dramatically before offering you a bottle of water.

"you're so dramatic, please shut up." you rolled your eyes after drinking.

you and suga have been arguing for a week about how he witnessed himself how the vice principal's wig flew off and it was too good to be true so you didn't believe him.

not until your beloved best friend pushed you to the vp's direction accidentally.

you were taller than the old man so when you bumped into him, you wanted to grab onto something for support but instead, you knocked off his hairpiece.

and suga ran away instead of helping you.

we love a supportive friend.

"well at least he was kind enough to not give you a punishment." suga shrugged and you just nodded your head in agreement.

when you transferred to karasuno during second year, you luckily met suga when you asked for directions.

you two were in the same class so he accompanied you the whole day.

he was very talkative and you loved hearing him talk about volleyball.

at first, you admired him for how approachable and kind he is

but now you just want to kick him.

"i said he wasn't my crush!" you convinced him but suga ony hummed in response.

"but you were staring at him with heart eyes." he quirked a brow.

"i wasn't!"

"you were!"

"i wasn't!"

"you we—"

"suga and y/n, that's enough." daichi sighed. pushing the two of you apart from each other.

"daichi! your vice captain is being annoying again."

"daichi, did you know that y/n has a crush on y—" his words were cut off when you covered his mouth with your hand and he had no choice but to bite your palm and you backed away in disgust.

"i don't like you anymore." you huffed and he just ruffled your hair.

"ah really now?" he smiled but you knew that behind that smile was an evil intention.

"nevermind." you muttered. not trusting your own friend.

oh and your parents adore suga.

like, they know you have other friends as well but suga is the only person they trust to be with you all the time.

and honestly, you agree with them. no words or numbers could describe how much you trust the setter.

despite his naughty and chaotic attitude, he always takes care of you.

kind of like akaashi but he's a bit more loose.

he's very good at giving you advice.

he's also the type of friend that sulks when you miss a game.

like, he would literally ignore you.

and now you're struggling how to make him forgive you.

"kōshi, enough. you've been ignoring me for a week! it was just one game, come on." you persuaded, poking his side but he didn't budge and continued writing down notes.

"i'm sorry for missing your game. i swear, it was an accident! i would never miss your next match again!"

he shifted in his seat and your eyes were filled with hope.

he looks at you with a slight hint of disappointment, "even if i'm not a regular anymore?" the question caught you off guard.

"what do you mean?" he remained quiet and you took that as a sign that he didn't wanna talk and so you impatiently waited for classes to be over.

as soon as you were dismissed, you pulled him out of the classroom to take him to your favorite spot just near the gym.

"i don't like how you're doubting my ability to support you. it doesn't matter what you do— heck, you could even commit a crime and i might bail you out of jail." you uttered. finally breaking the silence that engulfed the two of you the past few minutes.

you struggle with expressing how you feel sometimes and being able to decipher your analogies is one of suga's skills.

"your comforting skill is top tier." he replied.

you know how he would playfully hit his teammates? he'd do the same to you but he would only give you head pats, not wanting to hurt you physically.

and you unexpectedly just learned how to love it.

it somehow inspires you to work harder since he only gives you head pats when you achieve something and it's his way of congratulating you!

he also likes to drag you along with him. he wants to watch a movie? he would buy an extra ticket just for you!

but sometimes, he would whine about being broke when he's with you🤡

would also be ready to make a presentation as to why you are his platonic soulmate.

please just agree with him so he won't be sad</3

last but not the least, gossiping.

literally, the two of you will not call it a day if you haven't talked about any issues at all.

so even if you were sleepy, he would call or text you in the middle of the night and be like, 'tea time?'

aaahh imagine how shock i was when i saw that this was about 2k words overall AHAHA. i know that akaashi's part seems a bit off but honestly i just imagine him being a bit mischevious and more open to people he's genuinely close with so yeah! i had so much fun writing but i feel bad becaue it was so long- anyway, thank you for reading!<3

#kaashiboowrites #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #kenma x reader #akaashi x reader #sugawara x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #akaashi headcanons #akaashi imagines #akaashi fluff #kenma headcanons #kenma imagines #kenma fluff #suga headcanons #suga imagines #suga fluff

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sevenmikento · 3 years

Note

ANOTHER JJK WRITER??!?! I'M SO HAPPYYYY!! And you're accepting requests right now! I---I feel so cniwjebfiamxksownfjjw but 'nough said...

Idk what type of format is suitable for this request so it will be fine if you chose to write it using hcs or a oneshot.

Can I request where fem!reader is the Sukuna's vessel meets a civilian!Yuuji??

A/N: hello!!!!! this was sent in over a week ago but i’ve been so busy with streaming, art and work AAAAAAAAAA anyways imma do headcanons so i can cover more ground since i like this idea hehe :D

ALSO I FINISHED WATCHING HAIKYUU S4 AND I CRIED LIKE 4 TIMES PLS SEND IN MORE HQ REQUESTS OF THE CHARACTERS I LISTED THANK, I CAN’T WAIT TO GET TO THEM ;—;

fem!vessel!Reader meets civilian!Itadori Yuuji headcanons

as a born and bred Jujutsu Sorcerer, you honestly should’ve known better than to eat Sukuna’s goddamn finger. but in your defence, it was a stressful moment and the only other option was to die, let the cursed spirit eat the finger and inevitably kill Fushiguro Megumi—your only friend and someone who could probably keep the cursed spirit at bay long enough to escape

essentially it was: get killed and greatly inconvenience your friend or eat the finger and die and only somewhat inconvenience your friend

the only thing you did not anticipate was survive eating the finger, killing the cursed spirit in one hit and verbally abusing Sukuna until you regained control of your body

well… shit

life hasn’t changed that much if you were being honest, except now as the vessel of the King of Curses, the threat of being exterminated by the wise old elders was greater than before; but you don’t let that bother you too much since—

“So, if I eat all the fingers and Sukuna doesn’t take over my body… they’ll let me live?”

“That’s what they claim but we both know they’ll actually do,” your mentor and guardian Gojou Satoru said after returning from an emergency meeting with the people he despised the most. you could tell how pissed he was just by the slight inflection of his voice

“But I won’t let them lay a single finger on you,” he ruffled your hair, “got it?”

“Him.” Sukuna’s voice echoes in your head on one of your off days. hiding your mouth behind the bun you’re munching on, you ask him what he means

“The table across from you. That boy. He could have been my vessel.”

“… and?”

“… he’s interesting. Befriend him.”

“What? No, you absolute menace!” you don’t realise you’ve raised your voice until you notice a pair of wide brown eyes stare back at you. feeling your face heat up, you quickly stand and leave the cafe, tragically abandoning the super delicious chocolate bun half-eaten on the plate

“You’re attracted to him. Befriend him and it’ll benefit the both of us, you fool.”

“How exactly will it benefit you? And it’s too late. I’m not going back, not for the boy and not for my poor, poor choc bun :(”

you make it like, a few hundred metres before you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, it’s the boy holding your bun in a takeaway bag. he smiles like an idiot and though it feels like a huge mistake, you allow yourself the luxury of his company

shortly after you mean, during one of your many late night texting sessions, you learn that he had to move to Tokyo with his grandfather to seek better medical treatment

[11:43PM] Yuuji: so basically… what i’m saying is… i have no friends here :D be my friend?

[11:45PM] (Y/N): okay :)

“EXCELLENT”

“Sukuna… touch him and I will kill myself and you.”

when Gojou learns of your new friend, he gets super annoying (even more so than usual, basically) and makes a habit of spending more time with Megumi, claiming that you “don’t need both of them anymore ;—;” because you’ve “moved on to greener pastures”

but in all seriousness, he’s glad you’re making more friends. he’s done research on Itadori Yuuji and concludes that you’ll be alright

the first time you go out together, Yuuji sheepishly tells you he needs to drop by the hospital to give his grandfather some sliced fruits

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna follow, though—”

it takes you, like, ten whole minutes to convince him that you’ll be happy to meet his grandpa, though you have no choice but to withhold another big reason for wanting to tag along

as suspected, Yuuji’s grandfather’s being weighed down by a couple of small fry cursed spirits which you swiftly eliminate when they both have their backs turned to you—or so you think

unbeknownst to you, Yuuji saw the way you glared at the corner of the room, noticed how you did some odd hand gestures and how—almost instantly—his grandfather said: “is your girlfriend a lucky charm? my chest feels so light all of a sudden.”

[12:33PM] Yuuji: thanks for coming with me to the hospital today. my grandfather seems to really like you :) sorry he kept calling you my girlfriend

[12:34PM] (Y/N): no problem, i like him as well :D and it’s alright

[12:45PM] Yuuji: by the way, i have something i want to ask you

[12:50PM] (Y/N): … yes?

[01:03PM] (Y/N): Itadori?

[01:16PM] (Y/N): you there?

“A cursed spirit is after him.”

“You choose to tell me just now?!”

Sukuna doesn’t say it but he has no idea why he told you what he did. it doesn’t matter to him what happens to Itadori Yuuji and yet his gut tells him he needs to be kept alive. so, in a strange turn of events, he tells you where to go

sure enough, you find him fighting off a grade 1 cursed spirit in an alleyway, still alive and kicking despite being seemingly beaten within an inch of his life

although you’re a grade 2 Sorcerer, with Sukuna telling you what to do in your head, you win the battle with only severe bruises and maybe a hairline fracture somewhere

“Where do you live?” you ask and he points at a small house just across the alleyway. “Get your things, you’re coming with me tonight.”

he listens and walks quietly beside you as you make your way back to school

“Are you okay?” you ask once the adrenaline of it all has somewhat subsided

you can’t help but feel responsible for it all, knowing the cursed spirit must’ve hunted him down believing he’d lead him to you—the Sorcerer with Sukuna’s scent written all over you

before Yuuji can lie and say yes, he trips over his own feet but you catch him before he hits the ground

you decide to carry him the rest of the way, giving him a piggyback, his feet just barely off the ground due to your height difference

“What are you?” he asks softly, arms wrapped around your neck as the side of his head rests against your own

“I’ll tell you later. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, though.”

“I will,” he says without missing a beat, “I trust you.”

“It was most likely my fault you got hurt, you know?” you admit dryly, aware that you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you kept it a secret him him

“Yeah…” Yuuji sighs and it stings, not gonna lie, but then he continues: “but you’re carrying me right now… and you helped my grandfather, didn’t you?”

“… yeah.”

he hums softly, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, “that’s enough for me… Thank you.”

you feel him press his lips to your neck before his head lolls forward. your heart nearly stops before an overwhelming sense of relief washes over you when you feel his chest rise and fall steadily

your knees feel like they’re on the verge of giving out but his body is so warm and his kiss made your heart flutter like never before, so, you carry him the rest of the way knowing that you’ll gladly do the same in the future with no hesitation

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #headcanons #fluff #slight angst #vessel!au

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denays-xo · 3 years

Text

Trying To Get Back Together | Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Pairing: Tsukishima x Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.04k

Warnings: swearing, angst, toxic behavior, toxic relationship, slight spoiler, verbal argument, no happy ending, ooc tsukishima

Author's note: This is the last update for Tsukishima's story in TTGBT (series? ;3). I plan on posting other stuff too like head canons, one-shots and maybe SMAUs. So stay tuned! I'd like to mention @chelly-ilysmiwdfy! Thank you for liking my previous update. Keep being your cool self!

I'd really appreciate it if you like and reblog. Please do not repost without proper credits 'cause I worked really hard on this :(. Thank you and enjoy!

Summary: Y/N has been living peacefully (or at least tried to) after graduating college and having the opportunity to work their dream job. Strongly getting by everyday and extremely determined to overcome the obstacles that will come their way. When they least expected it, a tragedy came, they were invited to their highschool reunion and there they reconciled with Tsukishima Kei, their highschool ex-boyfriend.

TTGBT: Tsukishima Kei

Part 1: The Meeting

Part 2: The Backstory

Part 3: The Ending

"What did you do with the apartment?" He asked as he continued to stare at the view in front of you two. Your hands still grabbing on to the railing like it's your lifeline.

"I sold it. A friend lives there now." You left the apartment the night you broke up. But the last message he sent you was him insisting that you keep it.

"I see. I guess you wouldn't want to stay there."

"Yeah." Tsukishima's heart shatters upon hearing your answer.

"We could get another one." He smiled awkwardly.

"Huh?"

You felt his hand grab yours and place it on his chest. Your mind went blank and all you could feel was the fast beating of his heart.

"Be mine again, Y/N. Please."

It is as if someone has poured a bucket of ice cold water over your head. You stood there, frozen and staring, just trying to process what he said.

"I—what? What is this?" Your mind was blank and you were only able to let out a few words.

"I want you to be mine again."

"I—no." The fear on his face was too much. "I—should—I'll get going, Tsukishima-kun."

"No. No, Y/N, please hear me out." He held both your hands this time, no plans on letting you go. The both of you stood there for a couple of seconds just staring at each other, trying to find the right words to say. You were at least slightly prepared to see him at this party, but you weren't prepared for this.

"Tsukishima-kun, I don't think this is a good idea. Please let go of me."

"Y/N, be mine again." His loud sobs filled the balcony. You look around and surprised that no one has attempted to go outside yet. "Please, Y/N. I'm still so fucking in love with you, I just can't let you go."

He looked desperate, completely different from the Tsukishima that was cool-headed and sarcastic before.

"I—I don't want to anymore. Please let go of me." Your eyes started to tear up and you couldn't figure out why your chest was tightening so much.

"I promise to… to give you everything you want. I'll make you happier this time around. I promise I won't lash out on you anymore. I—please just be with me." He looked at you with expectant eyes.

"It wasn't because you're mad, Tsukishima-kun. It was because," you hiccup unconsciously because somehow you were crying too. "because you kept running away. I don't think you still get me after all these years."

The tears continually streaming down his face, what a tragic sight. Your heart ached for the man you once loved.

"We still have a chance right?" His voice was shaky, almost a mumble, he was struggling and you could tell.

"We already had our chance and we blew it. You know we blew it. Let's just go on with our lives, please."

He went down on his knees and held my hand even tighter.

"No, no, I'm not ready to let go of you yet. I don't want to lose you. I want you back, come back to me, please. Sleep next to me again, I miss your warmth whenever you hug me. I miss your cooking. I miss how you play with my hair. I miss our bickering. Everything, I miss you so damn much. I think you're the only girl I'll be able to love. I-I know I was stupid, but I can change right? Y-you'll come back if I change right?"

"Please stand up, Kei. Don't kneel, please." You looked up to the sky partly avoiding the sight that's in front of you right now and partly trying to calm yourself. "Why are you doing this? You were the rational one, right? You were the one who's good at handling hard situations. Why have you become like this?" When you finally look down, you see him crying on his forearms still holding onto your hand.

"I just—I desperately want you back and… and I promise not to hurt you anymore."

"I promised myself I won't hurt like that anymore too. I'm finally starting to value myself and I refuse to be treated that way again." You took a deep breath and proceeded to let your heart out. "What you did really hurt me, Kei."

He lifted his tear-stained face, once again he was listening to you intently.

"I was alone at the most important and vulnerable times of our relationship. I know, you were the same. I knew and I understood that. You're going through the same pain as me. You were alone too. But I tried, Kei. I tried to fight for it, didn't I? I sought for you, I reached out. But I don't think you were willing to fight for us too. How could I fight for something as important as our relationship alone? How could I continue to fight when you weren't even willing to fight with me."

The both of you quietly stared at each other for god knows how long. You knew he understood. You removed your hands from his grip and wiped the tears on his face. You lowered yourself leveling with him and kissed him on the forehead.

"The next person you love," both of your tears fell in sync "love them with all your heart. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable when you're with them. I know you like to act cool thinking that people will like that more. But nothing makes a person fall harder in love when you are honest and open about your feelings towards them. Love again, Kei. And—and love them better."

Tsukishima looked up to you with all the hope gone in his eyes. He knew there was no getting back now. He knew he hurt you so much but you were still kind to him. He knew his heart would never fully heal. He knew he would regret losing you for the rest of his life. He knew you will never be his again. He knew but he never spoke. Then, you did.

"Let's not meet each other again."

You stood straight and headed towards the door immediately. You didn't think you could take it if anything more happened. The last thing you heard was his scream as he cried loudly again.

You left anyway.

TTGBT: Tsukishima Kei

Part 1: The Meeting

Part 2: The Backstory

Part 3: The Ending

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfic #tsukishima angst #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #break up #ttgbt

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fandomsnfluff · 3 years

Text

obey me headcanons!

ok so i’ve been playing for a couple weeks now and i am absolutely HOOKED oh my GOD. it was only a matter of time before i strung up a few headcanons for the lovely demon brothers of this game!! i currently don’t have any hcs for the side charas bc i don’t know them very well yet but i might think up some at some point!!

this was also somewhat inspired by my request to @nox-exists, i thought they were lovely so i was inspired to write some of my own!! (once again thank you for answering!! <333)

lucifer

this big ol lump isn’t really all that ticklish. he does have a few sensitive spots, but they’re pretty hard to reach though due to the specific location of the spot or it being concealed by his rather thick clothing

he used to get into a lot of tickle fights with his brothers when they were younger, but due to the responsibility as the oldest and the lead of the household he’s put on a more mature facade and he now kinda thinks it’s dumb

...except when he’s with his s/o, he’s more than open to allow them to explore his body, but even if they don’t find his ticklish spot, he’s more than happy to completely turn the tables and reduce them to a puddle of laughter and tears

that said, he is a completely merciless ler. again, as the oldest, he has LOTS of experience (even if he doesn’t do it as much now) and he knows exactly where and how to tickle. after all these years he still knows where his brothers are the most ticklish, and he is more than happy to dole it out as a punishment for bad behavior (mostly in unique circumstances though)

so yeah, like i said, he does have a few weak spots, and listen closely now: going for his neck or a specific area on the hips will probably get the most out of him, but it’ll probably be a reaction that’s still kind of disappointing :/

mammon

omg he’s totally ticklish but he HATES it. like his entire body is COMPLETELY covered in weak points and he often finds himself subconsciously squirming away from his brothers’ touches bc they’re lightly touching a weak spot when they hug him or playfully prod him

as the spiritual oldest when it comes to tickling, he’s often the one to turn into the tickle monster when his brothers are being stubborn or annoying or cute or if he just wants to do it

he’s a lot like lucifer in the sense that he is a COMPLETELY merciless ler, he will go for his lee’s weakest points until they have tears streaming down their cheeks and his hands move WAY too fast for theirs to catch up and he knows exactly how to combine this method with targeting the person’s weakest spots

yet, he’s also the kind of person that can be best described as “being unable to take what he dishes out”; he will INSTANTLY start begging if the tables are turned on him, he’ll just scream and caterwaul until he gets his way (like he does with most other things anyways so sdkhjdfshdf)

he’s the weakest under his arms and on his sides and stomach, but his feet and knees are also pretty ticklish too!

leviathan

ok this one is EASILY the most ticklish brother by FAR. he’s not ticklish in the same sense as mammon tho, bc he can pretty much hold out when someone touches a sensitive spot when he gets hugged or playfully touched, but the general threat of tickling or mention of it will have him SPRINTING

he and belphie are the ones who are constantly ganged up on because their reactions are so funny, and mammon of course is the one to start it. he will literally start screaming the INSTANT it starts and someone will definitely get slapped or kicked in the face

he doesn’t tickle people a lot (bc he’s shy), but when he does it’s actually rather messy and cute. he’ll just be laughing alongside his lee as he messily tries to find their weakest spots and make them laugh

the SOUNDS that come out of him are so funny istg. he makes EVERY single one under the sun omg, like he squeals, squeaks, snorts, chortles, screams, ALL of it. it’s the cutest thing

he’s stupidly ticklish everywhere, but his neck, armpits, and sides are SUPER weak. also the backs of his knees are pretty weak too

satan

he’s definitely ticklish, but let me tell you, he HATES being tickled more than ANYTHING else (probably even more so than lucifer). it’s not because he’s overly sensitive, but because he just finds it incredibly annoying and distracting

he finds tickling kinda dumb so he tries to stay out of anything related to such (usually started by mammon). in rare instances when he’s not focused on something else like reading or when he’s feeling just a bit playful, he might join in or even initiate it. sometimes he likes to try and research it as well, but only in secret of course

he’s a pretty evil ler tbh. he somehow still knows where his brothers are ticklish but he’ll save their worst spots for last and just tickles all around their bodies until they’re about to cry before going to their weakest spots. he does it because he thinks it’s the most torturous method, but he secretly thinks it’s cute

he was actually tickled a lot by mammon when they were younger, but then he grew to hate it and stopped enjoying their tickle fights. now whenever mammon tries to pull some shit he just yells at him to back the fuck up and get away from him

he’s EXTREMELY ticklish on the backs of his knees, but his armpits and sides are also pretty sensitive. but he absolutely HATES having his feet tickled, he’ll just kick out and yell

asmodeus

ah yes, this beautiful flirtatious boyo. he is an extreme tease and he absolutely LOVES playful tickling with his brothers!! he has quite a fair range of weak spots himself tho ;w;

he usually attempts to turn one-on-one experiences with someone other than his brothers into something a bit more spicy, but sometimes he just gets too weak to make it so and can’t help but just laugh

he’s an extremely touchy and physically affectionate person, so he usually finds himself in a position where the person he’s with ends up being ticklish and he can’t help but tease them by brushing up against their sensitive spots or just tickling them outright

despite being very physically affectionate himself, he’s often rendered susceptible to his brothers’ attacks, especially by mammon. he usually contributes to tickle fights in one way or another between the brothers, but this puts him in a very susceptible position because mammon will NOT let a SINGLE one of his brothers out of the tickle pile without experiencing his wrath at least once (even satan)

for some reason he’s RIDICULOUSLY sensitive on the bottoms of his feet and also on his neck, he HATES it because for him those spots are super hard for him to defend. he often finds himself laying on his stomach for his brothers (mammon) to go to town on him and make him squeal with glee

beelzebub

oh my fucking god he is THE definition of tickle monster. he tickles belphie literally ALL the time because he thinks his baby brother is the cutest thing in such a vulnerable position ;w;

he thinks tickling is cute and can be a good way to distract himself from his hunger, and he enjoys playful squabbles with his brothers from time to time

he’s not a really evil ler like mammon or lucifer, he’s a lot more gentle but he still knows exactly how to target someone’s weak spots until they’re begging or literally crying. but he does have pretty good self-control, he always stops when he feels like he’s getting carried away or when he gets the sense that the person has had enough. he also ALWAYS stops when the person tells him to stop, he takes that as a sign that he’s getting too carried away

he’s actually not too ticklish himself, but he does have his sensitive spots!! he’s about 90% ler, but he is the SWEETEST and cutest lee ;w;

his weak spot is his stomach, but his sides and some parts of his legs get him pretty well!! he has the sweetest laugh and he’ll snort and hiccup on occasion too ;o;

belphegor

oh man. oh mAN. GOD IF SOMETHING WERE TO HAPPEN TO LEVI THEN THIS ONE WILL EASILY TAKE THE PLACE AS THE MOST TICKLISH BROTHER I MEAN COME ON

gets into a lot of tickle fights with beel (as we’ve established), but he usually ends up on the bottom crying for his brother to stop, he’s just too ticklish for his own good and there’s no way he would EVER win a tickle fight against his twin

even though levi is technically the most ticklish, belphie comes off as much more cute and laid-back, likely due to his “sleepy” nature, so he’s often rendered susceptible to attacks from all of his brothers who end up tickling him until he’s crying or turned into a complete puddle

despite his own sensitivity, he is a completely MEAN ler. he won’t necessarily pin his lee down, but he’ll get them in a position that will make it easiest for him to attack all of their sensitive spots, moving his hands from place to place to make his lee scream and cry out for mercy. he doesn’t tease a lot verbally but he’ll be beaming on the inside, which will give him the energy to continue his sadistic attack

he’s ticklish everywhere, like ANYTHING will work on him, but his weak spots are armpits, sides, knees, and feet. he’ll get pretty grumpy if you target his lower body and he’s a kicker so be careful ;o;

#obey me #om headcanons #headcanons #anime tickling #my posts

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bullyhunter--69 · 3 years

Note

I HEARD YOU WERE STOOD UP SHAWTY. LEMME GET A NUMBER ONE WITH A SIDE OF FRIES: aka can we plz have mesozoic (PLEASE THE AUTOCORRECT) shoji or maybe goth birb tokoyami or even bakugo just comforting you after a date gone wrong? also fuck your date, anyone who stands you up is a piece of trash that don’t know how much of a gem stone you are ✨🥰🍤

Awe hun, you're literally so sweet 🥺🥺 just getting this in my inbox made me feel warm and fuzzy and loved, thank you so much 🖤🖤 you're a beautiful gem stone as well, dear! 🥰🖤

-----

Shoji, Bakugo, and Tokoyami comforting you after a date gone wrong/you get stood up

Gender neutral reader and gender neutral date that stood you up!

Shoji

Big arm man makes brain go brrrrr

Anyways--

You and Shoji were best friends and he was sitting on your bed in your dorm, helping you make sure you had everything for your date

Just as he handed you your bag, your phone buzzed with a text message from your date

'Can't pick you up, maybe next time?'

Shoji could see the sparkles leave your eyes, worry spreading across his face in the form of his eyebrows knitting together

"Is everything alright, (Y/N)?" One of his many hands reached out for yours in a comforting gesture, linking your fingers. It flustered him a bit, but he was more concerned with comforting you than settling his own nerves

"They canceled.. I sent a text back but then they left me on read." Tears were flooding to your eyes with absolutely no warning, streaming down your cheeks without even realizing it.

Shoji sighed softly and set your bag and phone aside, pulling you to sit down right beside him on your bed.

He wrapped every arm he could around you, trapping you in a cave of comfort, warmth and love as he let you cry into his shirt.

"If they really deserved you, they wouldn't had canceled like that without reason.. I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

Although he wasnt the best at verbal comfort, his warm chest and 6 arms were more than enough comfort for the rest of the day as you sat there, bundled up in sweet Shoji love 🖤

Bakugo

It was a normal Sunday morning when Bakugo was walking through the common room, back to his bedroom after a shower

The last thing he expected was for someone to come running his way and slam immediately into him, knocking themselves back onto the floor and making Bakugo stumble a bit

"Hey, who the fuck do you think you are!? Watch where you're going!" Bakugo growled out, before even fully taking in the scene in front of him

Your bag was on the ground beside your phone, your outfit and hair looked stunning, and you were.. crying?

"Hey, don't cry, come on." In his brash Bakugo manner, his held his hand out for you to take and hoisted you up onto your feet once more.

"S-sorry, I shouldn't have been running.. I'm just gonna head to my room now." Your voice was cracked with sniffles mixed in, eyes puffy and red.

Before you could walk past him, Bakugo grabbed your wrist. "Are you even okay? You're crying like a little baby after you fell on your ass."

It was.. harsh, and rough around the edges, but there was a tone to it that showed he really did care as to if you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just.." Fresh tears welled up in your eyes. "My date just stood me up and I-I was really looking forward to it, ya know..? I thought they really liked me.." Your gaze fell to the floor as your voice quivered, small and embarrassed.

"Someone stood you up?"

His emphasis on 'you' made you look up to finally meet his eyes. "What do you mean..?"

Your question was hesitant, but genuine.

After Bakugolooked around to make sure it was just you two, he spoke gently. "You got all dressed up for this person, did your hair all nice and even matched all the colors of your clothes. You look amazing and have the personality to match. Who the fuck would stand you up?"

His sudden sweet compliment managed to bring some peace to your heart, and flushed your cheeks just a bit.

"You.. really mean that, Katsuki?" A faint smile took its place on your lips as you wiped your tears away with the backs of your hands.

"Yeah, I do mean that. And if that fuckin' loser extra isn't taking you out, then I'm going to. Meet me by the front doors in 10 minutes, I gotta get dressed. Can't have you showing me up with that outfit." And with that, Bakugo was headed off towards his dorm to get dressed, planning on taking you to the mall and to get icecream afterwards.

Tokoyami

Late night reading was one of Tokoyami's favorite hobbies, as he was never interrupted by his occasionally obnoxious classmates.

But, as 9 pm approached, there was a soft knock on his door.

When Tokoyami opened the door, he was heavily surprised when he took in the view of who was there.

You, his best friend, dressed up, with your hair done, and bloodshot eyes. Your cheeks were shiney with tears and you sniffled softly.

"Sorry to bother you, Fumi.. are you busy?"

Your voice, cracked and broken, made his heart ache with pain. He instantly stepped to the side and opened his door further as a silent welcome into his room.

"I'm never busy when it comes to you, (Y/N). What's wrong?" Once you were through the threshold of the door, he closed it behind you and pulled you close into a hug. He knew that whatever was wrong, you needed comfort.

"You know that person I was talking to? Well.. they asked me to go out to dinner with them a-and I sat there for 2 hours waiting.. and then when I went to text them to see what was up, I couldn't because t-they blocked me.."

Tokoyami was beyond shocked. "How could someone do that to you!?"

Dark Shadow was curled around your waist at this point, and that tiny comment was made by none other than him.

Tokoyami held your head to his chest and gently rubbed your back. "(Y/N), I am so, deeply sorry. You don't deserve that treatment.. they don't know what they missed out on. Anyone would be lucky to score a date with you."

Your arms wrapped around his waist and you pressed your face into his chest, breathing in his cologne. His smell, mixed with his words and deep voice, greatly helped to calm your sniffles and cries.

"Awe, Fumi.." Your hands threaded into the back of his shirt and you squeezed him tightly. "Thank you, that means a lot.. can I stay?"

With absolutely no hesitation, he nodded. "Of course, and we can do anything you'd like."

After a moment of quiet though, you looked up at him from his chest. "Read to me?"

And that's how, after being stood up, you ended the night by curling up with both Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, listening to the sweet bird man read you beautiful poetry.

#bnha x reader #bakugou #bnha scenarios #bnha smut #bnha bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #my hero imagines #mha shoji #shoji x reader #bnha tokoyami fumikage #tokoyami x reader #mha headcanons

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azucanela · 4 years

Note

*throws some Dabi, Toga and Tomura your way*- please headcanons of those three when they find their lover crying and really sad, trying to cheer them up. THANK YOUUUUU!

comforting their s/o headcannons [gender neutral!reader]

[ft. dabi, shigaraki tomura, toga himiko]

SUMMARY: you’re crying and they’re trying to comfort you while considering dozens of creative ways to commit murder.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: threats of bodily harm, death threats, crying,

A/N: my knife wife & co. <3

DABI

aight so

he does this thing where he just shows up at your house during the most random times to spend time with you

he just appears and is like, “hey we’re going out.”

“where?”

“does it matter?”

when he shows up for another one of your spontaneous outings and finds you sitting on your couch, sobbing well...

probably the calmest in the moment but internally, he is PANICKING, what is he supposed to do? normally he makes people cry, on purpose so he’s never had to actually comfort someone

much less has he ever cared enough to comfort someone, so congrats you are special, feel honored, you melted his icy heart and you don’t even have a fire quirk like he does

he’s gonna stare at you for a hot minute trying to decide what to do, and you are gonna have the most mortified look on your face as you rapidly try to wipe away tears and muffle your sobs

“what happened?” he’s gonna sound really apathetic, but he cares and he’s just trying to figure out what to do right now, and not freak you out by freaking out himself

it is not easy to stop hyperventilating once you’ve started, and as you are struggling to breathe and trying to respond, he’ll come by your side on the couch suddenly, and start rubbing a hand on your back

“come on, doll, just breathe.”

if you wanted to talk about it, he’d be all ears, and if it ends up being a person, he’s going to burn that name into his memory, and then burn the person :D

he won’t make it obvious that he intends to commit murder once he leaves your home, which he probably wont until the next morning, he’s already decided that he’s staying the night, ordering take out for the two of you, and sleeping in your bed.

you’ll see it on the news within the week that the person is dead and you’ll just look at him like 😧

and he’ll look at you like :D “what i do?”

“you know what you did.”

“they deserved it.”

“no-”

“they made you cry”

soft boi. if you don’t tell him the person’s name he isn’t going to pry, but in his free time he will try to find out who it could be, and if you are friends with other LOV members, he’ll definitely ask if they know something

if you don’t want to talk about it at all, he will be a little upset, but he ends up focusing his efforts on comforting you with random LOV stories about twice’s shenanigans

if it’s not a person, he’ll probably try to talk you through it, maybe distract you, offer you advice if applicable though he only knows how to do illegal things for the most part

overall, he’s gonna be the calmest and most helpful in the moment, but he won’t hesitate to commit murder for you and i think that’s true love

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

hajdgksahfjdshk

this mans

you’re middle of crying in your room

off topic you and kurogiri are the only reason that tomura’s room is clean he is a slob, there i said it

anyways, you’re minding your business, crying, as one does, and he has the AUDACITY to burst into your room, swinging the door open and promptly slamming it behind him, and he begins to talk about how Dabi DARED act disrespectful to him, when everything he’d done was to help them all.

and then he sees that you are crying, puffy red eyes, tears streaming down your now shocked face as you stared up at him before looking away to wipe your tears off your face

“oh.” he’d say, “you’re crying.”

CLEARLY, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS

the worst at comfort, he’s really bad at relating to you because he has a tendency to shut down his own emotions despite everything that has happened to him in life

he just kinda sits down in front of you, because you are on the floor, and who doesn’t cry on the floor, its a nice experience. anyways, he sits in front of you and awkwardly tries to like pat your shoulder at first and you just break down crying more because he’s trying to hard to help you and its adorable and its progress for him

he freaks out, thinking he did something wrong and tries to retract his hand, only for you to tackle him with a hug, shoving your face into his shirt. he does not like the tears streaming down your face for several reasons, one of which is the fact that they are now staining his shirt

he decides that complaining about this is not a good idea at the moment, though he does consider it

he just sighs, awkwardly wrapping his arms around you and thinking of all the weird tropes he’d seen in TV to try and figure out how to help you

he immediately turns to food, yelling for kurogiri to get over there, much to your dismay, and ordering him to go buy as much as he could from mcdonalds as humanly possible

kurogiri thinks its a sweet gesture, and makes it a point to himself to have a conversation with tomura later about about better ways to comfort others

if you tell him whats wrong and it ends up being something he can kill? have fun trying to stop him

spoiler alert, you cant

the problem will die if he has a choice in the matter, and if you don’t tell him the name of the problem, he’ll be frustrated and try to pry it out of you, but he’ll accept it

and then give kurogiri another job, known as operation finding out why Y/N is crying

if you aren’t crying over something he can kill, tomura is probably going to try and console you to the best of his ability, which isn’t that great, but its sweet that he tries

if you refuse to tell him why you are crying he will get frustrated and ask how he’s supposed to help if you don’t talk to him, but he’ll drop it when he notices you beginning to cry again

lots of awkward affection

just kinda sits with you in a comfortable silence until you open up about it or start a random convo

its nice

TOGA HIMIKO

WELP

very hyperactive bb, she’s probably going to come into your room and just start looking around, touching things, talking about something that just happened with twice

you are shocked, on your bed, crying, trying not to freak out as you look at her, panicked at the possibility of getting caught in the midst of crying your eyes out, you try to erase all the evidence that it ever happened while she is distracted

it takes her a hot minute to realize you are not responding, mostly because you are scared your voice will crack, there’s the sound of sniffling, and when she finally turns to look at you, she sees your puffy eyes and tear streaked face

honestly the best at comforting someone, like the way she is with twice when he tears his mask just proves this tbh, she can maintain her sweet and bubbly personality and it makes you feel better about crying because it doesn’t feel like she is pitying you

very affectionate, “baby whats wrong?” she’s going to get down on her knees in front of you and wrap her arms around you, unless you make it clear that you do not wanna be touched, otherwise, her hands are everywhere

if the problem is a person, she’s going to verbally threaten their life in front of you, and if you don’t express disapproval of murder, she will likely commit murder

“can i kill them? i promise it won’t hurt for long- unless you want it to?”

“no?”

“are you sure? because i think they deserve it.”

while you are napping, she slips off the bed to go out and end your problem and you awaken to her trying to quietly re-enter the room covered in blood

if you insist that murder is not the answer, she’ll still end up finding and threatening them should they ever hurt you again

people thought her quirk was weird and they bullied her, so i feel like if a person had anything to do with it, she would take it personal as well, because an attack on her s/o is an attack on her as well

if the problem is something else, she’ll provide solutions, and likely try to solve the problem for you if possible, she just really wants you to stop hurting because it makes her sad if she cannot do anything about it

she just wants you happy :,)

if you don’t tell her the name of the person she WILL ask the LOV for help in finding out who it is and ending them

if you just don’t want to talk about the problem at all, she’ll respect that and focus on distracting you, similar to dabi, telling you odd experiences she had with the league that day

doesn’t care if you cry into her clothes, will hold you and play with your hair, will bring you cookies or something like that, courtesy of kurogiri, our fave

very verbal and physical, but if you decide you wanna talk about it she will go silent and listen rather intently while playing with your hands, the only addition she makes tend to be cursing out the problem for ever bothering you

she’s so romantic when she’s cursing out your problems and threatening the life of those who hurt you, why wouldn’t you want that smh

964 notes · View notes

softykooky · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary: Three

summary: there is no longer a light at the end of the tunnel, you think. only people who haven’t been hurt can afford such a luxury as wishful thinking. but have you turned away before seeing that there is a glimmer. A teeny tiny, minuscule speck of light. 5.6k words.

genre: mafia au, angst, eventual ot7 x reader

warnings: physical/verbal abuse (not from the members), dysfunctional and toxic family dynamics, violence, just big sadness

author’s note: here it is!! thank you for all your kind words, again. it never goes unappreciated. apologies for all the plot holes :( i would definitely consider rewriting this in the future to fix that. on a more important note, please continue supporting the BLM movement by anything that you can do. whether it is donations, protesting, streaming videos, or educating others, no good deed is gone wasted.

one, two

In the brief time you’ve spent at their mansion, you’ve come to remember a few things. Taehyung snores. Loud and unapologetically so. Jungkook mumbles random words in his sleep, sometimes about cookies and other times about which kind of handgun has the least kickback. Jimin dyes his hair way too often. Yoongi spends too much time online shopping on the internet. Jin detests peanuts but loves peanut butter. Hoseok does not like you. Namjoon is secretly a big softie. In another timeline or life, you’d like to think you guys would be really close friends.

“Namjoon, please,” the desperation melted off your every word as the guard pulled you through the house by your arm. He only stared back at you quizzically.

“Since you’ve been here, you’ve refused to tell us why it is that you ran away. Seems to me like even with all this time, you haven’t been able to come up with a solid excuse for your hissy fit.”

You wanted to collapse.

“Your father offered us his services and cooperation in exchange for your return.” Hoseok sounded from beside Namjoon. That’s all you were ever good for anyway. A trading pawn. A stepping stone. You scoffed.

“You wouldn’t believe me now if I told you the truth, would you? Now that you’ve gotten your prize?” Your voice dripped in hurt and frustration.

“I’m glad I could be of service.” You watched in satisfaction as Hoseok’s smirk slowly straightened into a calculating gaze, not looking back as you walked away.

You allowed the guards to walk you up the stairs. Jungkook made his presence known from the top, boring into your eyes with the sheer intensity of a man scorned.

“Jungkook I-”

“Save it, your highness.” You recoiled at the poison of his words. You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that this whole time, while you were thinking Jungkook was your friend he just saw you as his prisoner. If he noticed the tears that welled in your eyes, he did not let it affect the stone cold expression meant for you. Yoongi pretended to look past you as if you were not there. Like you were not living and breathing in front of his eyes. The rest of them watched from a distance, smugly relishing in the fact that their assumptions have been confirmed, yet melancholy to see you go. You could only swallow down the lump that had risen in your throat, trying not to throw up as the guards led you out to a black SUV.

You didn’t allow yourself to look back. Or to cry. To feel anything that was not utter self-hatred for not knowing better and trying to escape when you had the chance.

“Goodbye, Y/N. I hope we’ll never have to meet each other again.” Namjoon spoke from behind you. You heaved a long breath.

“Thank you for everything, Namjoon”, you murmured quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk away. You had thanked him. You thanked him for kidnapping you, keeping you hostage, and now returning you back to the family that you had desperately wanted to avoid for unknown reasons. His brows knitted in confusion, eyes still following your silhouette through the window of the car as it drove away.

“Jimin”, Namjoon addressed as he walked back into the house and plopped himself down at the dining table all of them had been sitting around. He noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes seemed to stick on the door you had just walked out of, sadness drooping his shoulders.

“Were you able to find anything on the ambassador?”

Jimin shook his head. “No. Nothing. He’s clean. Nothing more than a few parking tickets. If there was anything though, he probably had it scrubbed from police records.”

“Check it again.”

Namjoon couldn’t figure it out. The little pit in the bottom of his stomach that kept trying to bring him back to your situation. Like it was telling him that something was wrong. He only sighed, standing up and tucking your manila folder into the filing case. Now just another face among many.

The security guard had been glancing at you a few times too many from the rear view window now, as he drove you to your imminent doom. You didn’t know why you couldn’t not be spineless for once in your life. You didn’t know why you just let these things happen to you, but the fight you used to have has disappeared a long time ago.

“Ms. Yoo. Your father is on the line for you.” Your knees began to shake at the mention of your father. You hesitantly took the phone out of the agent’s hand, taking a minute to breathe before holding it up to your ear. You didn’t say a word, but you knew he knew you were listening.

“Y/N. How lovely it is to talk to you again, my daughter.” His voice made you want to vomit over the leather cushions of the SUV. You kept silent, only heavily breathing into the microphone.

“We’ve missed you terribly. Especially Soyeon.” Your sister.

“Dad...please. Don’t do anything to her.” You tried to steel your voice in the presence of your father, but the quiver was impossible to not notice.

“I would never Y/N. I would never make her pay the price for your insolence.” He sneered into the microphone, tone still dangerously calm and subdued. Deep down, you knew that the most your father had ever done to Soyeon was some strict discipline and a few harsh words. Most of the time, he ignored her. It seemed like he only had resentment for you. His firstborn and heir.

“Well, we’ll talk more when you get home, Y/N. Maybe you can tell me about everything you’ve been up to.” You internally winced as he emphasized the word “talk”. Both of you knew what that meant and you could practically feel the sole of his dress shoes already digging into the plane of your stomach. He hung up without another word. You stared out the window as the car drove over a bridge, wondering what it would be like if you ever had the courage to tell the world. About your life. Your father. Everything. Would they believe you? Or would they trust the word of a rich and powerful man like your father, as the boys had done? Your heart twinged at the remembrance of the men you had gotten to know for that short period of time. You wondered if they would ever think about you in the future, even if they all thought you were a brat with no good intentions. Perhaps Namjoon was right. Perhaps it would be better if you all never met again.

“We’ve arrived.” Your heart dropped to your stomach at his words. He escorted you out of the car. More gently than Yoongi had the first night you met them all, and you remembered the loyalty these men had to your father. You would never be able to run now, even if you tried. You were led up to a familiar cobblestone walkway. In through familiar Venetian double doors your mother had insisted were necessary. Familiar marbled tiles under your shoes. Familiar baccarat crystal chandelier strung over the foyer that cast the room in a light that was too harsh for your liking. And the familiar face of your father staring back at you, lips curved in a gentle smile that you knew held more darkness than he would ever show.

“My darling!” He embraced you in his arms as your tears disobeyed your will and trailed down the curve of your cheek. You fisted your hands at your sides.

“I’ve been so worried about you”, he whispered into your ear, breath fanning against the side of your neck. How a cold breath could come from a person, you did not know. But it was becoming increasingly clear to you that your father was losing his sense of humanity in front of your eyes. That he was no longer the man you once knew and loved.

He waved away the last of the security guards out of the house, still trapping you in his hold. Like a conniving snake to an innocent mouse. You found yourself regretting every decision you had made prior to this. Maybe if you had told Namjoon the truth, you wouldn’t be standing here, a mere weak princess in front of a fire-breathing dragon. Maybe if you told Jimin that your father had caused those ugly scars on your back. The front door closed with a gentle click, and the doting facade your father had masked on morphed into the expression of repugnance you knew all too well.

You heard the slap before you felt it. The discordant clash of skin on skin that rung through the space of the foyer. Your mother did always say the house had great acoustics. The force knocked you into the ground, hands coming out to soften the fall as your body crumpled against the cool marble. It hurt. Like always. A familiar pain that reminded you only of all the things you had ever done wrong. All the flaws that your father drilled into your head until you could not remember anything that was good about yourself.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been for me to keep the press at bay?” He spoke darkly, eyes raking over your figure in satisfaction as you laid still on the floor.

“Do you know how much money I’ve spent to shut down the rumors that you had run away?” He knelt down to you, emphasizing each word as you tried to look anywhere but at him. Tried to focus on anything but the pain on your skin and in your heart.

Don’t speak, Y/N, he’ll only hurt you more.

“Fucking useless, you know that Y/N?” He laughed humorlessly. You could hear the click of his shoes as he circled around you, like a predator to its prey. A father to his daughter. You hoped to god they were not steel-toed. He reached down and clumped a fist into your hair, forcing you upright as you shrieked at the pain in your scalp, every cell in your body urging you to fight back when you knew that would never end well for you. He slapped you again, this time forcing you to stay sitting as the momentum whipped your head to the side.

“Sometimes I wish you never fucking existed.”

Over the years, you have learned to build resistance to the physical pain. You learned how to get bloodstains out of your clothes. How to double wrap an ice pack so that it doesn’t melt so easily against your body heat. How to not feel your conscious when your father took his anger out on you. But you had never quite gotten the hang of not letting each word bite you to your core until you believed what he said to be the truth. You never learned to push away the pain each remark and insult would ignite in the back of your chest.

Yeah, me too.

You laid there as his fists pelted down on you relentlessly, like cold rain to a cement sidewalk. You shrieked each time his foot made contact with your stomach. You could feel the blood dripping down your nose, your forehead, your arms, your cheeks. Your father was a fan of accessorizing after all, the rings on his fingers was testament. You absorbed every affront and denigration he shot at you, like a sponge to water, staring ahead into space and wondering if there was such a thing as feeling so much pain that one becomes numb.

“Stop! you’re going to kill her.” Your eyes had been closed but you could recognize that voice from a mile away. Soyeon. Most of the time, she had just ignored the things your father did to you in fear of the same treatment. But she was here. The dark presence of your father disappeared overhead, and exhaustion and pain finally seeped into your bones. He was not hurting you anymore. You can let yourself succumb to sleep now.

There was one thing you were glad for though.

His shoes weren’t steel-toed after all.

You woke up with a gasp underneath a familiar ceiling of a room that you knew all too well. The numbing you had forced yourself to go under earlier had clearly worn off, and you could practically feel every bruise and wound as if they were being created then and there. The door opened slowly to reveal Soyeon wielding a glass of water. She froze in her step.

“Hi Soyeon-ie”, you smiled, trying not to grimace at the pain of stretching your face muscles. Imagine your surprise when Soyeon’s expression twisted in anger.

“How could you run away. Do you know how much I had to deal with Dad getting angry while you were gone?”

Soyeon’s own selfishness stunned you into silence. You knew he would never hurt her, it always had been just you. She was blaming you for trying to get away from him.

“You know why I ran away.” You casted your eyes elsewhere, too hurt and betrayed to even look at your own sister. It was selfish of you to leave her behind, yes. You wanted to take her with you, but you knew she was safe there. You knew she would have been fine.

“You left me Y/N. I didn’t know if you’d come back or if I’d ever see you again.” She set the glass of water down on your nightstand, sitting at the foot of your bed. You wanted to stay angry at her. At her consideration for only herself and how she suddenly seemed to forget all the hurt that your father puts you through. But you had gotten so used to apologizing for mistakes you never made. Blaming yourself for things you could not control.

“I’m sorry, Soyeon”, you whispered in the quiet of the room.

“But I’m here now. And it looks like I won’t be leaving in the near future.” Your words were masked in sadness. You had been so close to freedom, you could almost taste it. But you should’ve known that no matter where you go, your father always had a chain tied around your ankle, yanking you back to this life. Soyeon’s face lit up at your statement.

“Good! Well, mom’s in the Bahamas currently with some friends. Maybe I’ll take you shopping tomorrow? A new store just opened in Myeongdong!”

You gave her a smile. One that didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn’t like Soyeon would notice. This was how it always went. She would block it out of her consciousness, pretending that your family was perfect and that nothing ever went wrong. She would pretend like you never got hurt, and moved on to the next topic. You always complied because Soyeon seemed happy. And that’s all you’ve ever wanted for her.

“Yeah. Sounds great, Soyeon-ie.” You had never wanted to disappear more in your entire life.

“Fantastic! Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Maybe later you can tell me about where you’ve been all this time.” She spoke cheerfully, smile falling slightly as the collar of your shirt drooped and revealed a blackening bruise on your decollete. Soyeon reached over and pulled it up, smiling once again now that it was out of sight, and out of mind. Not for you, though. You could still feel it. Then she left, closing the door gently behind her and leaving a broken you, holding the pieces of yourself together in a home you so badly wanted to get away from.

You won’t tell her about them, you think. You won’t tell her about Jungkook’s poetry book, Jimin’s care about your scars or Taehyung’s video games that you could hear across the thick wall. You won’t tell her about how Namjoon likes to pretend he’s got it all together but at heart, he seems like just another boy. You won’t tell her about Yoongi’s walks or Jin’s breakfast foods or how Hoseok folds your clothes neatly when he drops them off. And you definitely will not admit to yourself that you miss the people that captured you and sent you back here. You were their prisoner. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Jimin hasn’t slept in 48 hours.

For the first 24, it was because Namjoon assigned him to take care of all their new recruits, and he spent the day with a permanent frown etched on his face because most of them didn’t know how to hold a gun correctly. For the next 24, though, he’s been thinking about you. Jimin had grown used to your presence in the house, they all have. Though you were strangers, it seemed your souls naturally gravitated towards one another. Like magnets that were too timid to approach, too timid to open the bedroom door. More importantly, he’s been thinking about your father, and why you were just so dead set on running away.

He whips out from under his bed sheets, pushing away the headache and willing his eyelids to just remain open for a little longer. There must be something he’s missing about your family. Something small, or anything at all. But as ambassador, his records are sparkling clean, no trace of foul play or any significant offense at all. Even the tabloids could not dig anything up on the man. He seemed to be invincible.

He walks briskly to Taehyung’s office, where the man himself is planted in a spinny chair, pretending to do work and playing Pubg on his wall of monitors. Jimin coughs with amusement, causing Taehyung to almost jump out of his skin.

“You scared the shit out of me, you dummy.” He gasps dramatically, hand held to his chest as he exasperatedly stares at Jimin.

“Is that how you talk to your hyung?” Jimin slaps him upside the head.

“Anyway, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Can you try scrubbing the ambassador’s files again? Something just doesn’t feel right with me.” Taehyung groans at Jimin’s request, dejectedly turning off his game.

“I’ve gone through his profile so many times. There’s nothing, hyung. Not even a speck. I liked Y/N too, and I thought she was better than that but maybe we just gave her too much credit.” Taehyung did enjoy her presence. He always turned his game volume up a little too loud to hear an annoyed groan coming from the room next to him, just to know that she was there. She had always been kind, but after everything, Y/N was a different person than he thought.

“Just one more time, Tae? There has to be something”, Jimin pleads. “And besides, if you have time to play your video games you have time to do this.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever I’ll do it. Just get some sleep, you look like death.” Taehyung hums, putting his headset back on and turning to his multiple computers. Jimin sighs contently, yet still dissatisfied, feeling like he’s missing a piece of a puzzle he so desperately wants to solve. He pats Taehyung on the shoulders before turning around and leaving for his room. That night, Jimin is able to lie down in a comfortable bed. Stare at the ceiling he sees every time before he goes to sleep. He plugs in his phone and cozies up with a pillow, like he does every night. But this night, he drifts with the thought of you behind his eyelids.

Taehyung has no idea why Jimin has made him go over records of the ambassador so many times. Sure, the ambassador wasn’t someone he was overly fond of, he had made business for them difficult in the past with his high government position. But it seemed like Jimin wanted to find something incriminating, like he had a hunch there was something there. So he sifts through the press pictures. Sifts over the embassy camera feed. Sifts over his text messages, and bank statements, and even his restaurant ord-

Wait.

His bank statements.

There’s something there that Taehyung hadn’t seen before. It’s so small, he must’ve missed it in passing but it’s a breadcrumb. There’s a bill that had been paid through an offshore bank account, so that any normal audit would not be able to trace it back to the ambassador. Luckily for Taehyung, he’s the most brilliant hacker in the eastern hemisphere...or so he likes to believe. The bill is withdrawing a couple thousand dollars, but doesn’t state who the recipient is to. In a minute or two and obnoxious keyboard clicks, Taehyung finds that the ambassador has wire transferred nearly $10,000 to a hospital in the Seoul area.

Damn. Just hospital bills. Albeit offensively high hospital bills. Taehyung leans back in his seat in defeat, nearly doubling over as he realizes the time. He curses himself when he hears birds chirping outside, already hearing Hoseok’s nagging voice for not getting enough sleep. He hauls himself to the couch in his office and sleeps the night away, records of the ambassador forgotten on his computer screen.

“Tae, get your ass up, it’s 3 in the afternoon”, Jungkook nudges Taehyung awake, almost consorting to kneeing him the balls since he refuses to even open an eye. He groans before finally agreeing to sit up. Taehyung finds himself in his office, Jungkook annoyedly sitting beside him with Jimin and Jin sitting in the meeting space outside.

“Have you found anything?” Jimin sounds from his seat around the briefing table.

“No, I haven’t. Like the last 5 times you asked me to do it.” Taehyung pauses in his half-asleep words, sitting up and eyes shooting wide.

“Although there was something weird I hadn’t noticed before.” He leaves his office and sits at the table alongside Jin and Jimin.

“There was a hospital bill for 10k. Wired through an offshore account, probably a Cayman or a Swiss. It didn’t show up on his public statements. It looked like he wanted to hide it.” Thinking back to it now, Taehyung looks like an idiot for not pursuing this breadcrumb trail and choosing to sleep instead. Jimin continues looking at him expectantly.

“That was all, though. I traced it back to the recipient and it was the Asan Medical Center”, Taehyung trails off, mind still knitted in confusion as to what this could be leading to. Jungkook makes his appearance from the other room.

“What if it’s not the ambassador’s records we should be diving deeper into?” Jungkook says quietly in the tense atmosphere of the meeting room.

“What if it’s Y/N’s?” A daunting realization settles upon the four boys. If this breadcrumb trail leads to what they suspect it does, then they may have just made the biggest mistake of their career. Staring at each other in the basement of their headquarters marks the first time the boys hoped to god that their hunch was going to be wrong.

“NAMJOON!” Jimin bellows as he nearly sprints from the basement to the upper level to Namjoon’s office. The leader could hear the boy even from down the hall, his clumbering footsteps reminding Namjoon how much he paid for that expensive hardwood flooring. The door swings open to reveal a panting Jimin, clutching a familiar manila folder in his hand. He slams the folder onto his desk.

“Y/N’s folder is here because…..why?”

“We’ve been trying to dig up dirt in the wrong place. Our initial run-through of her profile hadn’t even revealed this. This was covered up with all kinds of firewalls.” Jimin’s hands are shaking at their newfound information. Namjoon seems to be in a permanent state of confusion, staring at Jimin as if he had grown two heads and a tail and is now speaking to him in another language.

“Slow down, Jimin-ah. Take it from the beginning.” Namjoon stops his incessant rambling and muttering.

“Okay, okay. So you told me to take another check through the ambassador’s profile right? So naturally, I passed the workload to Taehyung.” Namjoon snorts at his confession, far versed in the boys’ habits to know that Jimin always made Taehyung do tasks he did not have energy for.

“We must have missed it all the times before. Our dear friend the ambassador made a transaction through an offshore Cayman account, wire transferring $10,000 to Asan Medical Center in the Seoul area.”

Namjoon sits up straighter in his seat and leans over the table, eyes locking into Jimin’s with newfound intensity.

“There’s no reason why he would for himself. We’ve browsed through all of his public appearances over the past year and he shows no sign of any injury or need for hospitalization with that high a bill.” Jimin runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

“So Jungkook suggested we dive deeper into Y/N’s profile instead. Maybe we missed something like last time too. So we did, and...” He pauses.

“What, Jimin? Spit it out.” Namjoon’s patience and anticipation has run thin.

“In the past years, Y/N’s been hospitalized for a total of 3 times. At Asan Medical Center.” The air in the room seems to drop to sub zero degrees as Namjoon and Jimin work to connect the dots.

“Taehyung looked into her hospital records, and it took him more than 10 minutes.” The statement shocks Namjoon, as all of them knew Taehyung could dig up dirt on a person in mere seconds.

“On the first visit, Y/N came in unconscious with multiple head and body contusions, fractured ribs, a concussion, and a broken collarbone. She had to get surgery. Jin suspects the records were so buried because someone must have bribed the hospital to keep it hidden. There’s one person involved that has that kind of money and power.” Namjoon’s face pales at the realization. He had a hunch from the beginning, and he knew he should’ve just listened to it. Now he may have just sent you off to your death with you thinking they all hated you.

“So what you’re saying is Y/N’s father…” Namjoon can’t bring himself to complete his sentence.

“What I’m saying is Y/N’s father seems to be deliberately covering up these hospital records unnecessarily well if it were just an accidental injury. There’s no clear link to domestic abuse, but…well, you’ve seen the way she is.” Jimin wants to knock himself upside the head for not seeing the clear signs right in front of his eyes. The way you flinched at every sudden movement. The way you refused to tell them anything about why you ran away. Maybe this whole time, you had been trying to protect your bastard father for god knows what reason. The two breathe in the silence of Namjoon’s office as the leader thinks it over, mind muddling with all the new information and trying to find a course of action.

“Tell Taehyung to hack into the security cameras of the ambassador’s house in Seongbuk-dong.”

For the time being, your father has cut off your access to a cell phone and other communication devices. You were to remain with Soyeon for an indefinite time, and she is your chaperone for any endeavors outside the house. He hadn’t said a word to you since he left you unconscious on the floor not even 10 minutes after you stepped foot into the doorway. That’s how it always was. To your father, you ceased to exist other than when your family makes public appearances or when you mess up and he feels entitled to discipline you. Not that you could leave the house anyway. You could barely walk for extended times without feeling your chest cave in.

“Y/N! Mom’s home.” Soyeon cheerfully sounded from the bathroom as she dusted a generous coat of pink blush onto her cheeks. You continued staring at the wall, in the same position you had been in for hours.

Your mom has been a side character in your life. She was never in one place for long. Never too affectionate with you, only was there to look pretty and doting to your father, all the while pretending that your family was perfect in every sense. Even before your father changed, she never emphasized her duty as a mother to you. Soyeon helped you wobble to the family living room, where both your parents were situated on the same couch. You avoided your father’s gaze like the plague.

“Hi, Mom.” You managed a small smile for her. One that she returned before placing her attention back on her phone. If your mother noticed your injuries and bandages, she did not let it phase her expression for a single millisecond. You sighed quietly to yourself, wondering if things would turn out differently if your mother cared an ounce for you.

You spent the rest of the evening at the dinner table. You did your part, pushing around oven-roasted potatoes with your sterling silver fork and pretending that you were a normal family having a normal dinner. Your mother strategically angled the family dinner picture to hide your injuries, posting it onto her social media account with far too many heart emojis. Soyeon chattered away about her new sponsorship deals, the new clothes she bought, the new friends she’s made, and even what she had for breakfast. And your father, well, you were just too scared to even look his way to notice what he was doing. But you reckon he appreciated you keeping your mouth shut at the table.

As Soyeon talked on about the Maison Margiela boots she’s been dying to get her hands on, you found your mind drifting to a certain group of people. You wondered if they’ve thought about you since. If they had an ounce of remorse for sending you away, or even a sliver of longing. You wondered if they had enjoyed talking with you as you had with them, or had they let their presumptions completely tarnish your image. Were they eating well? Sleeping enough?

You picked at an oily asparagus. Hoping they would miss you was wishful thinking. You couldn’t afford to do that anymore. Last time you did, you got kidnapped by a gang that sent you straight back into the jaws of your father.

The boys couldn’t tear their eyes away from the large TV screen in the briefing room, reflecting the footage of the ambassador’s mansion foyer. The room had gone silent. Cold. The kind of cold that hits you in the gut like a sharp icicle. The kind of cold that stokes an icy blue fire. Their hearts sank in their chests.

There you were. Getting beaten to a pulp by your father in your own home, with no security guards or maids around to see. You pushed back in the beginning, but the boys could almost physically see the fight leave your weak body as your monster of a father unleashed his hatred on you. They all wanted to throw up. Namjoon pushes away the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, turning back to the round table of boys who now had a new flame in their eyes.

“I-I should have known.” He loses his breath at the words, nearly collapsing into his chair.

“I should have known someone like Y/N wouldn’t run away like that. I should’ve known there was a reason she didn’t want to tell us anything.” He buried his face in his hands, kicking himself for letting you go.

“So those hospital bills….he covered them up because he caused her injuries.” Jungkook spoke out in the tense silence, not hiding his tear streaked face as his eyes remained glued on the TV screen. He would make himself watch it. For you, and the hurt he’s put you through.

“And the scars on her back.” Jimin trails off, fists clenched in anger at the mere thought of your father.

It was Hoseok, though, that actually bolted out of the room and heaved the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl. How would he face you ever again? After all that he’s said and done. After all the assumptions he made about your character without even giving you time to breathe and create a response. Hoseok had just held this animosity against people of your stature. People like your father and your mother who grew up in money, and uses it to remain in power. He, alongside the 6 other boys, had fostered their own success from scraps and dirt. Now you were paying for their mistakes in ways that none of them wanted to even think about.

“Namjoon. We have to go save her.” Jin pipes up. They all heard the quiver in his voice and caught sight of the shaking in his hands as he looked towards the leader.

No, they wouldn’t just save you. They would get you justice. They would dismantle your father and maybe kill him while they were at it. This would be the price for their mistakes against you. As he looks back at his brothers, figures slumped in regret and shame, he wonders if you’ll be able to forgive them. Despite the short time, they had all bonded with you in some way or other.

“Yoongi, could you round up our retrieval team?” Namjoon’s face steels as he faces them, expression almost dead if it weren’t for the complete wrath that burned in his eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to visit Seongbuk-dong. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

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