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todoscript · 3 years

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SEQUEL TO “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

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cricketscreations · 3 years

Text

First Dates with The BAU

• It took absolutely forever for Rossi to ask you out — he only came to his senses after Hotchner cornered him.

DAVID ROSSI

• Both of you are BAU agents and you had only been on the team for a few months; Aaron started to see Dave get distracted by you and he finally confronted him about it.

• David invited you over to his place for dinner and a movie, and honestly when he asked you over, you nearly fainted.

• You arrived 15 minutes early, so you ended up sitting in your car giving yourself a pep talk until it was exactly 6:30, which was the time agreed upon.

• When he opened the door, he was speechless.

• You were dressed like you'd been going to a charity ball. You were absolutely dazzling.

• He didn't hesitate to step aside and let you into his home.

• The smells. The warmth. Everything felt like something out of a dream.

• Rossi told you stories and charming jokes over dinner; he made you his favorite meal, carbonara.

• The evening was going really well and your face had started to ache from how much you'd been smiling.

• Overall the night felt like a dream, other than the fact that you'd drank a bit too much wine when you were trying ease your nerves.

• Rossi ended up snatched your keys and gave you a pair of pajamas to change into.

• He'd picked out some classic Italian film for you guys to watch after your meal, and you snuggled up to Dave's side to watch it.

• After the movie, he led you to a guest room in his self-proclaimed mansion and got you into bed before saying goodnight and leaving.

• Unbeknownst to you, he checked in on you every half hour for the next 3 hours before passing out in his own room a couple doors down from the one you were in.

• You woke up the next morning to Dave with a cup of coffee and an over the counter pain pill.

• Dave gave you back your keys and said his goodbyes before letting you head off to work.

• You always had a go bag stashed in your car, so you didn't bother driving home, and you headed off to Quantico.

• When you had gotten into work, Derek approached you, but before he could say anything about your sunglasses or your clearly disheveled appearance, you held your hand up to silence him and scuttled to the bathroom, go bag in hand and dreading all the questions you'd be asked today.

• Aaron had met you during a case, seeing as your brother was their unsub.

AARON HOTCHNER

• You instantly felt a connection when he first spoke to you, but didn't act on it until nearly 6 months after the case was closed.

• Agent Hotchner gave you his personal number if you'd ever needed to talk and one day, you took advantage of that.

• It was the anniversary of your brother being put in prison and you were exceptionally emotional - which ended up in a sad and tipsy call to the agent.

• Aaron's day was just going to be dedicated to paperwork from his latest case, but he decided he'd get to it another time.

• You were a hot mess when Hotchner arrived, but you couldn't bring yourself to get off of the couch and fix yourself up.

• He quickly picked up on what you were going through; a few cans of fruity flavored beer were semi-crushed and sitting on your coffee table along with a pint of sugary sweet ice cream and what looked like a nest of blankets was piled up on your couch.

• He easily made his way through your apartment since he'd been there before and got you a glass of water to try and help sober you up.

• He talked you through your tears and pain, all while making sure you were well taken care of.

• Before you realized it, it was 5pm and Aaron was still sitting beside you on your couch.

• For the last few minutes, you'd been watching some old kids shows in silence; it was just something that helped you calm down and he was actually enjoying the time he'd spent with you.

• You got up from the dent in the couch that you'd been wallowing in and stretched.

• There was no way you were going to cook tonight, so you ordered a couple of large pizzas to be delivered.

• Both of you had eaten pizza and you chattered about some whacked out theory about the show Rugrats, while Aaron just listened and made sure you were distracted from whatever turmoil that your brothers villainy had caused.

• When the day was over and Aaron was ready to return home to his son, he gave you a card for a support group that he thought would benefit you.

• And that's where you expected it to end; after all this was just him doing his job, right?

• Wrong.

• He showed a kind of bashfulness that you absolutely did not expect from the stern man, and he asked if he could take you out on an actual date.

• Obviously, you said yes.

• Your first date wasn't ideal, but, both of you enjoyed your time together.

DEREK MORGAN

• Derek went to a club with Penelope and Emily when he first met you and right off the bat he was into you.

• You started talking and instantly clicked — unfortunately, he couldn't spend the night with you due to being called into work, but you set up a date to see each other again, then you exchanged numbers and he disappeared.

• The first few times you'd try to go out on a proper date with him, he'd keep getting called into work beforehand, so he'd have to take a rain check.

• Finally, he was actually free for a night and you invited him over to your apartment for dinner and some drinks.

• He arrived only seconds after the clock struck 5PM and god you were awestruck as soon as you seen him.

• This man made you question how clothes could be tight and yet, still seem loose.

• Happily, you let him into your home which had a warm glow and atmosphere; your lights were dimmed, soft music was playing throughout the house, the delicious scent of food being cooked was in the air — it was amazing.

• You made an array of drinks for the both of you and conversed about anything either of you could think of.

• Derek charmed his way into dancing around the room with you before you'd have to take the food you were cooking off the heat.

• Dinner was about the same; the male joked and chattered, throwing out compliments here and there.

• The night seemed perfect, you even got in a couple of smooches — and then his phone started ringing.

• You understood when he had to leave, which was around 10PM.

• He promised he'd make it up to you and take a full vacation day for you, so you could have a date night at his place next.

JENNIFER JAREAU

• Originally, the plan was for you to be Henry's caretaker while JJ was working — though it deviated sometime after about 6 months of being employed by her.

• You had major crush on your boss, and sometimes, it felt like she was in the same situation; though you doubted it.

• One night before tucking Henry in for bed, he said he wanted to tell you a secret.

• “Mommy really likes you. . .”

• That simple phrase made butterflies become trapped in your stomach, but you tried to push them down.

• “I really like her too. . .”

• It felt good to actually say it.

• Now, confiding in a little kid about you liking their mom wasn't too wise; the secret wasn't kept for more than a week.

• Jennifer approached you one night after she'd came home from work — Henry was already asleep in his room and you were doing coursework for college when she asked to have dinner with you tomorrow night.

• You didn't even hesitate to accept her invitation.

• The place wasn't very fancy, but that was 100% fine with you.

• It was a small 24 hour diner outside of town that had the best breakfast that you'd ever eaten.

• The two of you chattered about how Henry's fine motor skills and how his speech was developing, and how your classes were going.

• The night was perfect, she even went out of her way to drive yourself to your place — even though she insisted you stay at hers because it was rather late, but you needed to get some housework done, and chose to go home.

• That night, you spent nearly an hour thinking about the date before passing out.

SPENCER REID

• The good doctor met you during a case not too far off from Quantico.

• You were doing an hands on internship with a medical examiner and Dr. Reid happened to come by to get autopsy details and the toxicology report from a recent string of homicides that the BAU was investigating.

• Almost instantly, he struck something in you and you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

• The way he spoke so factually on the unusual way that this ‘unsub’ tortured his victims before they succumbed to death, just made you more interested in the supposed genius.

• Sooner than you'd hoped, the BAU wrapped their case up and you were in fear that the chance to actually talk to Spencer was about to slip between your fingers.

• That was until Spencer and Agent Rossi came in one last time.

• You swallowed the nervousness bubbling inside of you and quickly asked him for his number.

• To your surprise, he actually gave it to you rather quickly.

• He was just as entranced with you as you were with him.

• One night, you'd gotten off early and decided to invite Spencer over to your apartment.

• You'd fixed up a simple meal for the two of you and make sure your apartment was in tip-top shape.

• When he arrived, you were in awe. He was dressed up in a suit, which wasn't far from what you'd first seen him in, however he was glowing.

• He looked like he'd slept pretty well, he was donning a soft smile and holding out a small bouquet made up of red carnations, yellow jasmine flowers, and multicolored hibiscuses. They complimented each other well.

• You, of course, gracefully accepted the bouquet and welcomed him into your home, situating the flowers in an elegant vase at the table.

• You and Spencer spent the night talking about anything and everything; you found his knowledge fascinating and beautiful.

• The date ended in you both passing out intertwined in each others limbs on the couch while a cheesy rom-com played out on the TV.

EMILY PRENTISS

• Emily first seen you while you were doing an interview with Hotchner to join the BAU.

• The agents of the BAU sat, staring into the office as you smiled sweetly and spoke to Hotchner about your experience in criminal psychology and communications, and thus far he seemed intrigued.

• It was almost instantly that Emily was enamored; you were just too beautiful for her to ignore.

• About half an hour later, you and Hotch exited the office, he shook your hand with a look of accomplishment on both of your faces.

• With a loud clearing of his throat, any remaining agents or passerbys turned their attention to the head agent as he prepared to make an announcement.

• Applause erupted as your eyes scanned the room, landing on the black haired beauty that was SSA Emily Prentiss.

• “Will you please welcome our new agent, Y/n L/n, to the BAU.”

• You situated your new desk with the few belongings that you'd had in your bag.

• The work day was coming to an end while other agents put away any remaining paperwork that they'd been working on and out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the pretty agent from before approaching your desk.

• Obviously, you agreed and headed out with the rest of the group.

• “Hey, a few of us were going out to get drinks, and we were wondering if you'd like to come with us to celebrate you joining the BAU?”

• Agent Hotchner bought the first round of celebration drinks and made a toast in honor of their new agent.

• Not too long after the toast, Emily sat beside you and formally introduced herself before making conversation.

• The two of you spent the night learning about each other and talking about what your job may entail.

• After a while, and about 4 drinks, you were taking a cab with her back to her place.

• She insisted that you spend the night at her place and meet her cat, Sergio, and you agreed.

• The rest of the night was fuzzy, but you woke up in a bed that was unfamiliar with a cat laying on top of you and the smell of pancakes and bacon filling your nostrils.

• You carefully moved, the cat hopping off once he'd realized you woke up.

• Gently, you walked to the kitchen to find Emily cooking breakfest looking lively as ever.

• “Good morning, hotcakes.”

• With a nervous chuckle, you awkwardly asked if anything had happened between the two of you the night prior.

• “Oh heavens, no; we were both much too drunk. I slept on the couch.”

• A huge sigh of relief came from you as Emily sat a plate of food in front of you along with a couple asprin and a coffee.

• You thanked her for her kindness, but she waved it off with a pink tint rising to her cheeks and ears.

• You ate breakfast and headed to work together.

• Once you entered the BAU, SSA Morgan began wiggling his brows at Emily, earning a playful punch to the shoulder.

PENELOPE GARCIA

• You first met the effervescent Penelope Garcia when SSA Derek Morgan came into the ER with some minor injuries due to their latest mission; she, of course, was freaking out.

• “What if he's really hurt? Or — or —”

• She enveloped you in a hug, thanking you for your effort to calm her down, and you hugged her back with a comforting squeeze.

• “Don't worry, Miss Garcia, he only has some scrapes and bruises, he'll be back to normal before you know it. We're just making sure that he gets the proper care he needs before he can return to work.”

• After guiding her through some simple breathing exercises, her heart rate began to lower.

• Only moments passed before Derek came out with a smile and they had a small chat, which included Penelope scolding him for being reckless.

• Savannah came and picked Derek up, leaving you and Penelope alone in the empty waiting room.

• “Hey, so Miss nurse - sorry I didn't get your name. . .”

• “Well, Miss L/n, would you perhaps like to go out and get a drink with me, sometime?”

• “It's Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

• And with that, you got her number and met her the next week at a high end restaurant.

• You brought her some assorted roses and made sure the meal was paid for, although she tried to pay you, but you told her not to worry about it.

• You spent the night listening her speak about the things she was passionate about.

• Unfortunately, about half an hour passed by before you'd gotten called back in by the hospital.

• You drove Penelope to her apartment and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

• “I really enjoyed tonight, Penelope.”

• “I did too, Y/n, but next time I'm paying the bill.”

• She giggled and gave you a quick smooch before shuffling into the apartment, leaving you flushed as you headed back to work.

• “So there's going to be a next time?”

tags :: @wordvomit-foryourmind

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Rest Your Head (Baby Mine Part 2) [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Rest Your Head (Baby Mine Part 2) [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve given Overhaul a lot to think about since your attempted escape. He owes it to you--and your daughter--to help you recover.

Word Count: 1311

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped, abuse, Overhaul POV

Well, you stopped screaming. That was a start.

Although he had to admit, it was likely due to your throat turning sore and raw from overuse, rather than you actually calming down. He mentally added honey and tea to the list of things to give you, though not right away. You needed to know that he was upset, and that this wasn’t something he was going to brush over with gracious leniency like your complaints about homeschooling and your defense of a (dirty, disease-ridden) sandbox in the back yard.

You disappointed him.

He loved you, he protected you, he provided you with a home and a family and structure--and you disappointed him so severely that for a few brief moments after confronting you, he’d hurt you.

It was a blip. Nothing more. A base physical instinct, borne out of his line of work, clearly--it vanished as quickly as it came, as quickly as his hands tightened around your arm. It brought him no catharsis to hurt you. But he can still feel the way his fingers tightened, feel the reverberating thrum of anger that rushed through him when you said words that hadn’t crossed your lips in years: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

You meant it. No, he corrects himself. You think you meant it. Something had obviously been growing inside you over the years, undetected sticky layers of residue that coated the love you had readily embraced, until there was nothing left but nonsensical hatred and a desire to leave.

To leave him--and to take his child, your child, our child--away, too. A double blow. A cruelty he didn’t think you were capable of, a cruelty clearly borne not out of your real self but this false, selfish double of you that had been slipping under his covers unnoticed.

He can’t imagine even looking at those covers right now. The office was more than a necessity in his early steps for planning your recovery--he’d pulled the sofa bed out, intent to sleep on it for the time being. The idea of sleeping alone in that wide bed, your marriage bed, seemed daunting. The thought of rolling over in his sleep and not feeling you there brought prickles to his skin.

He wishes you were here to wipe the ghosts of tears from his cheeks, as he’s so often done for you. But you’re in no state, emotionally or otherwise, to take on any additional emotional burdens.

He taps on the tablet screen and zooms in to get a closer look at you. It was important to monitor you after such a traumatic, dramatic event, after all.

You’re curled up on the narrow cot he generously provided you with, arms tucked in close to your chest, face staring and vacant and tear-streaked. You need to brush your hair, but it will have to wait; the room is bare and minimal, not only for its intended usage (punishment) but for your safety as well. There’s no telling what you might do in such a hysterical mindset.

The sight is upsetting, to say the least.

You look so much like you used to, when he brought you home (your first home with him, the little suite and not this suburban place, a sprawling palace by comparison) for the first time. Bitter and sad and empty. You would curl up in bed and cry and feel sorry for yourself, until that became too tiring and you started to pick yourself up bit by bit. Reading a book. Doing some exercises. Asking for entertainment in hushed, clipped tones, because you were bored-thank-you-very-much.

And then, later on, as you recovered your senses, as you recognized that what he did was for the best--talking to him, sitting down with him at meals, and eventually meekly asking to stay in his office. And up and up, until you were finally who you were meant to be. His.

You’d had your setbacks over the years, of course. Melt downs and regressions. Clenched fists and arguments. You could be so hysterical, sometimes, so out of sorts. But it was nothing he hadn’t been able to help you recover from. Nothing he couldn’t pull you out of, his hands on your shoulders and wiping your tears, offering his better judgement when you’d lost your way. You were a fragile thing. You needed reminders. You needed correction. You needed him.

Yet… you’d tried to leave him. No, not just leave him. Sever him in half. Sever his heart and body and soul, taking what was his away like it was nothing.

This was no petty setback, no insignificant trip-on-a-rug stumble in your journey. Could even he help you recover from this?

It was more complicated, now. His mind flits to your daughter, curled up in her bed, clenching her teddy bear with a furious energy. She took hours to fall into a fitful sleep, which came as no surprise after the turbulent events you’d put her through. Were you even thinking of her when you’d put this harebrained scheme into motion? Again, his brain flashes to the insidious selfish double that your mind had created over the years. You would never put your delusions above your daughter. You would never try to tear her away from her father. You would never try to leave him. You appreciated him. You deferred to his better judgement. You loved him.

Clearly--unfortunately, so very unfortunately--he needed to remind you of all that.

He sighs, and his duties and your needs and the years of cultivation all weigh heavy on his shoulders. The key he’d retrieved earlier is pressed into his palm, leaving a sharp imprint. Would he use it? It was something he’d considered doing ever since his daughter told him about your plans, fidgeting with her shirt and whispering, tears rolling down her little cheeks as she confessed your wrongdoings but-please-don’t-be-mad-at-mama.

He’s not mad at you. No, he’s just sad.

After hearing the words leave his daughter’s lips, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, truly he did. Wanted to see if you were just having a bit of mania, a bad day, a wild dream. But as the days waned and your daughter brought up every detail, everything you’d told her with a finger hush-hush to your lips, it became clear that it wasn’t going to subside on its own

He would have to stop you. He would have to step in. As he’s done before, when you faltered.

You’d never fallen this far, however, and he can’t deny the way his stomach churns at the loss of years.

With reluctance, he slides the key into the drawer and turns it. The lock clicks, soft from lack of use. Inside lay the needles, the syringes, all waiting in case you needed to be sedated through more intense treatment. In case you were frenzied and wild, unable to think rationally.

He hadn’t used them on you in a long time. He would need to weigh you again, to make sure the dosage was correct after all these years. He hated to do it. He really did. But if you wanted a chance at recover, if you wanted a chance to better yourself, if you wanted to reunite with the child you’d created together and take those little steps out of the room and back into your life, then he needed to make the tough decisions for you.

He knew what was best for you, in the end.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #overhaul x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #just a lil interlude with his POV

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eunkimmie · 3 years

Text

i have always loved you

anonymous: How about about Sal and fem!Y/N raising a baby together? The two were FWBs, but then a slip-up resulted in Y/N becoming pregnant so they ended the sexual relationship and opted to co-parent. Thankfully, they were graduating from uni soon at the time of their slip-up. As the years roll by, Sal and Y/N grow closer and slowly fall in love. They get together after realizing their feelings for each other are genuine and eventually have another baby.

(had to reupload)

warnings: she/her pronouns, pregnancy, FWB, nsfw, non-canonical Sally Face plotline word count: 3.6k Sal was a sentimental guy. He had a lot of feelings swirling around in his heart. Big feelings for a small guy. As true as that was, Sal was never one to see sex as anything sacred or sentimental. He didn't believe in "saving himself" for anyone—it just wasn't something that was for him personally. To him, sex was just something that came to those that experienced sexual attraction. Arousal wasn't a foreign feeling to Sal, he had been a teenager once, too. Sal was attracted to her. This girl—Sal barely even knew her name, god—was just hot to him. His type, for sure. You were Niel's friend and greeted the group with a smile. Sal was twenty-one now. Twenty-one years old, never had a girlfriend, and a virgin. Sal supposed that his teenage years weren't exactly spent pining over girls or having sex. To Sal, virginity wasn't anything more than a social construct. So why was it that he was suddenly so aware of his own virginity as this girl—(Name)—laid below him with her brows furrowed in pleasure. It was dark, pitch-black almost, to the point where you couldn't make out the scarred features on Sal's face. Very much intentional. He was sure he looked like a fool, anyway. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, lips parted as grunts and breathy moans came from his lips.

Sal's shaky hands came down to grab the sides of your hips, angling his own hips to thrust into you and pull your body back down on his dick. It was hot in every way, Sal felt like his entire body had been set on fire. His hair that had been messily pulled up into a bun was barely tied up anymore, blue strands stringing down from his ears. You screamed as Sal moved his hands up to your back, pulling your entire body up to manage a new position. You rode him as Sal's hips snapped back up in sharp rhythm to meet a steady pace, moaning loudly, shamelessly, as his cock buried deeper inside you with each thrust.

"F—uck. Fuck!" you screamed, arms wrapping around Sal's neck as his teeth bit every so gently down into the curve of your neck. Your nails ran down his back, no doubt leaving scratches behind, which made Sal groan. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck—" Sal pushed you down to lay on your back, pulling out quickly and pumping the tip of his cock hastily before finishing on your stomach. The two of you breathed in quick rhythm, Sal eventually collapsing down on the mattress of his bed. He felt his face burn hot, realizing the rash decision he had made. He hadn't even asked. "S-Sorry," he gasped between breaths. You didn't seem to mind, giving him an honest "it's alright" before wiping your stomach off with a few tissues. You dismissed yourself to go take a shower after putting your clothes back on, the two of you suddenly hyper-aware of Sal's roommates.

Sal pulled his boxers back on as well as his prosthetic and laid out on his bed feeling embarrassed. He hadn't exactly...made you finish. Fuck, you probably thought he was some kind of loser. His first time and he finished in probably five minutes. All Sal could do was groan in mortification and get dressed, shamefully, of course.

He had already settled back into his bed with a video game by the time he heard a knock on his door. You made your way in after his go-ahead, hair wet and chipper.

"Hey," you said plainly. You pointed to a spot on his bed, and after his approval, you sat down comfortably. Sal felt embarrassed all over again. "Um...sorry. About that. I don't really—I mean, I've never—"

Your laugh cut him off. It seemed harmless, and Sal felt his shoulders relax a bit as you waved a dismissive hand. "Hey, don't worry about that. Seriously. I'm not going to judge you over sex." He gulped, staring at you beneath his prosthetic. You seemed awfully understanding, but your reassurance did make him feel better. A beat of silence passed before you spoke up again. "Maybe...we could keep doing that? If you'd want to? Sorry if that sounds intrusive."

"Like..." Sal paused, setting his game down and watching as your body language showed signs of bashfulness. He felt a bit surprised at your own timid nature. Hadn't you realized how bad he was at the sex stuff? Really, he only copied what he had seen in porn. Copied it poorly, that is. "Like some kind of friends with benefits thing? Even though I suck?" That made you laugh, and it was such a beautiful sight to behold. The bed shook as you turned to face him properly, legs crossed on his mattress. "I don't think you suck. Fuck, I sound like some kind of pervert...But, still. You don't have to say yes, of course...I just thought, well. I thought I would at least ask."

Sal would've been an idiot to say no.

The two of you continued like that for a while, probably for longer than you should've as just two friends. You were close friends, friends that fucked every once in a while. It seemed to satisfy the both of you, but you two were by no means careful. Usually, the two of you had sex on a whim—he could recall the riskiest time was when the entire group was out shopping and the two of you got one out in a bathroom. Still, Sal just...never really considered the risks. Besides, the two of you had been doing it for this long, and nothing had happened, so the chances must be low, right?

...One morning you showed up at Sal's little shared house.

"...Hey. Are you the only one home right now?" Sal opened the door to let you in, eyes widening just a bit as he shrugged. Perhaps your relationship had gotten too casual, but he just hadn't ever stopped to even ponder the situation. Sure, he had a little crush on you when Niel introduced you to the group, but that turned into a sexual relationship. Maybe Sal had feelings for you. Maybe they were buried so deeply that Sal never even realized. But he knew that, even outside of your sexual relationship, that he cared for you regardless.

"Yeah. It's a little early, isn't it?" You breezed past him, sitting down at the dining table and sliding a wrapped breakfast sandwich across the table, a gesture for him to sit. He watched as you bit into your own, curious. "Did you just want to talk?" You offered him a smile, one that signaled that you were here not to have sex, but instead to just be a friend.

Sometimes Sal couldn't help but wonder. He'd get lost in his thoughts, listening to ambient music in his room, what would life be like if you two had just stayed friends? Maybe that could've lead to a real relationship. Maybe. And the two of you weren't in a situation where it was awkward, or where they would have to sneak out of the other's room after a night of sex. They could cuddle and wake up next to each other, have some breakfast, and carry on. Sal always felt butterflies when he woke up and you were sleeping next to him. In some ways, he felt wrong for feeling that way. He didn't know what to feel. Perhaps a part of him figured that this was the closest he would ever be able to get to have a real romance with you. Sal didn't know. It hurt his head if he thought about it for too long, so really, why even bother pondering the possibilities?

But when you sat across from him, so mundane, eating a breakfast sandwich and looking sleepy, how could he not feel these things?

"Is that bad? If I just talk?" you looked up at him, hoping you hadn't caught him in the middle of anything important. It wasn't bad. It was never bad. Sal always had time for you. "No, I was just laying around. Todd and Niel went off to the supermarket, and I think Larry is out in the shed."

"Right, well..." you paused, biting your lip. "Okay, so you know how we always promised to be open with one another? Like transparency?" Sal quirked an eyebrow, nodding and gesturing for you to go ahead. "Yeah, so like. Fuck, man, I'm just gonna come out and say it. I missed my fucking period." At this, he saw your hands clench a bit harder down on the sandwich you were holding. Your eyes gathered tears in the bottom lid, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "A-And I don't know if that means anything, like shit. It couldn't, and I would be here just freaking you the fuck out, but I dunno man. I'm just...Shit, I don't fucking know what the hell I would do if I were..." Sal stayed silent, the cogs turning slowly in his head.

"A-And I don't know, like, I'm twenty-two. I know a lot of people have kids by now, but I just—I don't know, and it's not like I'm asking you to be super involved it's just—"

"What? I would want to be involved." Sal's lips seemed to move on their own, but it was just so painfully obvious to him. Obviously. Obviously, he wanted to be involved. It wasn't a question, really. The two of you had known each other for about a year now, and even though nothing was truly going on...Truth to be told, Sal couldn't help but think about you even after you were gone.

After about five positive pregnancy tests, the two of you agreed to stop your situation. There were a lot of tears, more so from you with Sal rubbing circles on your back. You would cry to him about how you weren't ready, or how you were going to fuck up, and all Sal could do was be there for you. Sal didn't see him as much as a father type. In fact, the two of you hadn't even ever worked out what the situation was. He wasn't even sure there was a situation.

It was strange. Sal wasn't a father. He didn't look like a father. He didn't know how a father was supposed to behave. Sal spent his weekends playing video games and learning Pokemon themes on his guitar, that wasn't what a father was supposed to do. At the very least, Sal had already moved his bed and belongings to the basement of the house and made a makeshift nursery in his bedroom.

A baby girl, chubby and crying had come after months of going back and forth on what to do. It was strange. Sal never saw himself as an adult. He'd grown in height and gained some tone in his body, yet still he couldn't differentiate the person in the mirror from the kid who used to wear pigtails every day and get pushed around in school.

What was probably worse is that Sal didn't feel a connection with his child. The child was his, undoubtedly, but he didn't feel much. He had read and heard about parents being so enamored and parents who just immediately felt love for their child, but Sal didn't. He stared back at the baby girl, her features taking after yours for the most part, yet hair as blue as the sky, and furrowed his brow. You, on the other hand, held the child close to you, foreheads touched together as the baby cried and you let out shaky breaths. Parents didn't always have that immediate connection with their children, but, even still...Sal could open his heart up just this time for a child. For you. Even though he had seen the worst of what the world had to offer, he would try.

Try he did. Sal couldn't see any other reason to do anything but for his child. Diane. That was her name. There wasn't any other option, and you had almost instantly agreed. Henry cried, the recollection of his late wife and his memory as a father had come forward as he sobbed when Sal's baby had touched his face for the first time, tugging at his beard. Sal's dad hadn't been there for him when he needed it most, coming around in an attempt to make things right when it was almost too late, but Sal refused to make that mistake. He did everything for his daughter. He was taking online college courses to get a degree in graphics. He did so much, too much, maybe, as in the wake of his determination the two of you hadn't even discussed your own relationship. In fact, it never even came to mind until Larry had asked. The two were sitting outside after having met up at the lake. Larry, moved out by now and living in a shared apartment closer to his community college, and Sal, still living with you, Todd, and Neil, sat in the grass drinking sodas.

"So...I don't know, man."

"Huh?" Sal had looked over at him. The sun had just barely dipped down beyond the horizon, the sky a pale purple. Larry shrugged, pursing his lips together in thought. "You know, a lot of people who have a kid and live together are at least dating. In most situations." Sal continued to stare, the realization of his words sinking in. Larry was right. Sal knew he was right. Perhaps Sal had forgotten. And that was truthful, too. It was so easy to forget when the two of you were living together, raising a child, and maybe just every once in a while waking up next to each other like you used to.

"And don't get me wrong, I'm not judging. In fact, I couldn't be happier for you. Ash too. You haven't really been this happy, this grounded, since you got here. To Nockfell. It's just...I dunno. Haven't you ever thought of, like, marriage?"

Marriage. Yeah, Sal had thought of marriage. The first time he saw his child he thought of it. The first time he held her, the first time he had taken off his prosthetic and his little girl just stared up at him in the same way before her little hands reached up and grabbed at his nose, he thought of marriage. Even before that. When your stomach was swollen, seven months pregnant, and Sal had caught you staring down at your stomach with a swirling mix of emotions behind your eyes, he thought of marriage. The two of you slept in the same bed. Every time he'd wake up next to you, he thought of marriage.

Sal Fisher was so undeniably in love with you. He had been so undeniably in love with you, maybe even from the first time he laid eyes on you. It hadn't ever been about sex. It had been about you. About how you smiled at him, and how your arms would wrap around his shoulders as you kissed him deeply. It had always been about you. Sal had been so blinded, he truly thought sex was the only way to keep you around. But now...Well, shit, what now?

"...I have," Sal finally responded. "I love her."

Larry stared at his friend, Sal's eyes roaming over the moon's reflection in the water.

"Isn't that answer enough?"

. . .

Little Diane was two, now. Sal finished his basic courses and graduated from the two-year school. The two of you were busy packing up your daughter's belongings into boxes, a moving truck waiting outside.

"Are you sure we cant convince you to stay?" Niel joked, hand intertwined in Todd's. Todd nudged his husband, laughing a bit with a furrowed brow. "Yeah, it's not like they have a kid or anything." You laughed, smiling brightly at the two. It had been a long journey of memories in this little house. It wouldn't ever be a place you nor Sal would forget. But it was time to move on. Sal had gotten accepted into a college to finish out his degree, and you had managed to get a job with a lot of flexibility in the same area.

"Yeah, but...California. It's just so far. And so different from Nockfell."

"True, but I think that's a good thing, honestly. This town is so strange...I could never figure out why, but it just gave me this feeling...And I don't want Diane spending her childhood years here." Todd exchanged a knowing look with Sal, the two remaining silent about the shared knowledge. Todd cleared his throat, ridding his head of the foul memories. "I suppose you're right. We'll have to come and visit sometime."

Larry and Ash had come over to the house as well, all helping you and Sal move and disassemble furniture. Gizmo was purring happily on the couch, content to watch the rest of you do all the heavy lifting until it was time to go. Henry and Lisa had even come over, Diane resting in her grandfather's arms. With all of the helping hands, you and Sal were about ready to get moving in just a few hours,

The two of you stood outside the house, your daughter asleep in her car seat in the back of the moving truck. It was strange. Sal had spent years in this town. He was just a kid. A kid that played guitar and a kid that loved video games. A kid that would search for an hour with his best friend Larry for quarters hiding around Addison Apartments just to buy a bag of chips from the lousy vending machines downstairs. A kid that had gotten mixed up with the supernatural that he would be sure to protect his daughter from. A kid that simply met a friend of a friend and fell in love with her smile. Sal couldn't help but wonder how different his life would be if not for you.

You and Sal exchanged your goodbyes tearfully with your friends and family, promising to keep in touch. And finally, with a turn of a key, you were off to a new life. It was a long drive in which Sal reflected on his life. He could've been a nobody. He could've been that weird kid with some weird mask and from a weird town. Just another picture in a yearbook. Maybe in another life, he had been a murder. He chuckled...how unlikely. He couldn't have ever imagined his life like this. Sal Fisher, the family man. He wasn't too sure that his face would fit in at a PTA meeting.

After hours on the road and multiple stops, the two of you arrived at a neighborhood with a row of brick townhomes lining the road. They weren't the best or the most luxurious, but they were within walking distance of schools and a good driving distance from Sal's university and your job. Maybe it was a bit cliche, and in sincerity, all too normal for Sal's life. He was the guy who had talked to ghosts, and yet he was about to move into a cookie-cutter neighborhood with a kid.

The two of you stepped into the house, the smell of dust being the most prominent. It would need cleaning and hard work, but it was yours. Sal didn't think he was exactly cut out for the whole "white picket fence" family, but a family nonetheless.

A family. A husband, a wife, and a daughter. Except, that wasn't his situation. He had a friend and a daughter.

Sal stared at his life. Twenty-five. Years had gone by, probably in the most unexpected way that Sal could ever imagine for himself, yet he still felt as if he hadn't moved very far with you. But you were here. In a house that you two had bought together, with eyes he had stared into for four years. His daughter with his mother's name and his hair was in your arms, giggling and squirming around, eager to crawl around the new environment. He looked over at you, eyes shining bright with hope of a new adventure and lips upturned in a smile.

"Can you believe it? Sal, our own place. This is insane. Can you believe it?" your head turned to meet his gaze, tears gathering in your eyelids. Sal stared at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Sal?"

"Marry me."

The words came out fast, but the same nonetheless. The weight of them wasn't something Sal was aware of. He had been thinking of this for years. Never the right time, never the right place. But everything seemed right. Standing here, seeing you smile the same way as you did at that first meeting years ago. It was different now. He couldn't imagine a life without you in it. Sal wanted to see you smile as he slid a wedding band on your ring finger. He fantasized about his little girl walking down and throwing petals. It was silly, but it was what he wanted. He was sure of it.

"W-What?"

"Marry me. I love you."

You stared at him, mouth agape as the breath was taken from you. This was Sal. The father of your child. It was Sal, the one who had refused to leave your side when you were pregnant. Who stayed calm when you couldn't. Who had played with your daughter and refused to stop smiling for her. Even before that, it was the same Sal who had kissed you like there was nothing else in the world to do. Sal Fisher was full of love to give and wanted nothing but the best for everyone around him despite the world throwing so many challenges his way. What other response was there to give?

Sal took your hand after lowering his prosthetic, eyes staring seriously. "Will you marry me?"

"...Yes."

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher #writing #sally face x you

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fridayfirefly · 3 years

Text

All For The Investigation

Read All For The Investigation on AO3

Masterlist

By Tim’s calculations, there was an 87% certain that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the Parisian former hero Ladybug. However, 87% was not 100%, so Bruce required further investigation. Damian was stuck with the job.

Except, Damian knew that stuck wasn't exactly the right word. Stuck implied that he was displeased with the situation. Damian wasn't displeased. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the most pleasant person in all of Gotham Academy. If Damian had to choose anyone to be forced to spend time with, he would choose Marinette. Though he grumbled about being forced to spend time with plebeians (for the benefit of his brothers, who would mercilessly tease Damian if they even suspected that he had a crush), Damian was quite pleased by the assignment.

Given that Marinette was in his history class, it was quite easy to arrange a situation in which they were forced to be in each others' proximities. When their teacher announced that there would be an upcoming group project with randomly assigned partnerships, it was simple for Damian to break into her office and switch around some of the names. When the partnerships were announced and Marinette and Damian were paired together, Damian made his move.

"Dupain-Cheng, if you would like to work on the project over the weekend, we can do so at my house."

"Sounds good, Wayne, but you know, you can just call me Marinette," said Marinette with a smile.

Damian felt flustered, which was a very bad sign. He never felt anything less than perfectly composed. "Then you may call me Damian."

Marinette's smile got even bigger. There was a feeling in his chest that, had it been caused by anyone else, Damian would have suspected it to be a complication of the broken ribs from Joker's last attack. "Let me give you my number, and we can plan a meeting this weekend. Would Saturday work for you?"

Damian nodded as he handed Marinette his phone. "My schedule is free on Saturday."

"Great!" chirped Marinette. She plugged in her number, then posed for a picture, explaining that it was, "For the contact photo."

And if in the privacy of his bedroom, Damian stared at that contact photo for twenty-minutes straight, it was just for research purposes. Just to compare Marinette's facial structure to that of Ladybug. Completely normal investigative business.

The next morning, Damian found his way to the bedroom of his most tolerable brother. "Grayson. Can I confide in you without any of the information getting to anyone else?"

Richard glanced up from his laptop. "Sure thing, Baby Bird." He patted a spot on the bed next to him,

"Don't call me that. I despise nicknames," grumbled Damian. He took a seat, staring at the wall in front of him, still weighing the risk versus reward of talking to Richard. If his brother had some technique for extinguishing romantic interest it would solve Damian's problem. However, if either Drake or Todd got word of Damian's crush there was no doubt in Damian's mind that they would never let him hear the end of it.

"So what's on your mind?"

"It pertains to the girl in my who Drake suspects to be Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She has become difficult to investigate. I have found myself unable to observe her objectively."

Richard frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean. Is it something that she did that's bothering you?"

Damian searched for the right words to explain the situation. He was not usually so tongue-tied, but the proper words seemed to escape him at every turn. "Dupain-Cheng is not what I expected. I assumed that it would be a simple task, to observe her and determine whether she has any connection to the Parisian superhero. However, I have found it difficult to concentrate on my mission when I am around her."

"You find it difficult to concentrate when you're around her. How so?"

Damian gritted his teeth. He didn't want to spell out his crush so obviously, but Richard seemed incapable of looking between the lines. "I have found myself preoccupied with trivial things like getting to know her personality, rather than investigating her background. She makes me feel... flustered."

Damian could see the moment that Richard made the connection. His brother's face lit up as he exclaimed, "You have a crush on her?!"

"Quiet!" snapped Damian. "This does not leave this room. I need to learn how to get rid of it, so I can get back to completing the mission."

Richard was grinning ear to ear. "That's not how crushes work. You can't just snap your fingers and have them disappear. The only thing that can get rid of a crush is time. Or sometimes if they get a haircut that kills the feeling. But mostly it just takes time."

"I cannot afford to wait for these feelings to fade. I'll look into scheduling her a haircut." Damian stood up, resolved to get rid of his crush before Marinette came over later that day to work on their project.

"No wait," Richard grabbed Damian's arm. "I doubt that your attraction to her is so shallow that a haircut would destroy the feelings you have for her. This is something that you'll have to talk to her about."

Damian frowned. "Perhaps I should give the mission to someone else. Jon could transfer to Gotham Academy for the semester. His detective skills are lacking but his judgment would be less clouded than mine. If I ignore her for long enough I'm sure that I can evade talking about my feelings."

"Why don't you just ignore the mission for a few weeks while you get to know her."

Damian fixed Richard with a death glare. "I cannot ignore this mission. Father gave it to me personally."

"How about twenty-four hours? You spend the next twenty-four hours in getting-to-know-her mode rather than background-check mode and at the end of it, we can regroup and decide what to do next. If you actually get to know her, you'll better understand the depths of your feelings. Once you have that understanding, you'll be able to see if waiting out your crush is a viable option or if you need to pass on the responsibilities to someone else."

It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was better than anything Damian had come up with. Anything that could potentially alleviate Damian's inability to focus on the investigation was worth trying. "Fine," Damian replied curtly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"No problem," said Richard. "You know, I would love to get to meet Marinette sometime."

"Don't push your luck," grumbled Damian, ignoring Richard's laughter as he stood up and left the room. There would be no way to hide the fact that Marinette was coming over to the Manor from his family. There was also no way that his family wouldn't intrude upon Damian and Marinette as they worked. However, if he explained everything beforehand and phrased everything in precisely the right way, he might be able to pass off his odd behavior towards Marinette as a part of his investigation. Damian pulled out his phone and composed a text to send to the family groupchat.

Damian: Dupain-Cheng is coming to the Manor at approximately 22:00 to work on a history project. I will be covertly conducting my investigation. From what I have gathered, she would respond better to subtle questioning, rather than a straightforward interrogation.

Tim: wait does subtle interrogation mean that you'll be flirting with her???

Jason: I need to see this

Steph: I'm willing to bet money that his flirting offends Marinette so much she storms out of the Manor before Damian can finish the mission

Dick: No way. I'll bet 20 dollars that his flirting works too well

Steph: done

Damian huffed, half tempted to call off his meeting with Marinette. His siblings were insufferable.

Damian: Please refrain from intervening. Confirming that Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug is a vital first step in determining whether the Justice League needs to interfere in the affairs of the Order of the Miraculous.

Bruce: Damian is correct. No one will bother him while he is working with Marinette.

Damian smirked as he turned his phone off. His plan wasn't foolproof, of course, but a direct order from Bruce to not interfere would force his siblings to be more subtle about spying on him and Marinette. The chance of him being interrupted was significantly decreased.

Damian got everything set up in the den, which was only ever used on family movie night. It was perfectly situated for the task at hand - a room small enough to be classed as cozy but big enough to not feel cramped. It was out of the way, surrounded by other equally unused rooms, so his siblings would have no excuse for lurking in the hallway outside. Damian brought in snacks, chargers, and a few books from the Wayne Manor library on Renaissance Art, the topic of their project.

Marinette arrived promptly at 2 in the afternoon, holding a Tupperware container full of gingerbread cookies, with a smile on her face. "Hi, Damian. I brought cookies."

None of his planning accounted for this moment, for first laying eyes on Marinette. Damian froze up, desperate to put the right words in the right order. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette. I have everything set up in the den if you'll just follow me."

"Sure." Marinette toed off her black boots and arranged them on the shoe tray next to the door. She was left in sage green cat-print socks that matched the rest of her outfit, a pine green sweater and black jeans. Damian couldn't help but wonder if she knit the sweater herself - Marinette's talent for designing was well-known throughout Gotham Academy, as it was what got her accepted into the prestigious high school in the first place.

Marinette followed Damian through the Manor, complimenting little details that Damian had never noticed before - the pattern of the curtains, the bay window in a sitting room that Damian had never bothered to enter, the family pictures that lined the wall in the hallway. Marinette made it seem so obvious to pay attention to those little details. Damian wished that he could see the Manor for the first time through her eyes and feel the same amazement that she felt as she oohed and awed over the decadence that Damian had considered banal.

Damian was so captivated by Marinette that he almost missed the fact that Drake and Brown were lurking in the study across the hall from the den. A text to his father about the gravity of his mission would be enough to get them sent away on some inconsequential but time-consuming task. Damian would have to find an inconspicuous time to pull out his phone during their work on the project to let his father know about their intrusion.

"Now I know why you call it Wayne Manor. This place is huge." Marinette shrugged off her backpack and set it down on the coffee table next to her container of cookies.

"Its size is entirely unnecessary for ordinary life," agreed Damian. "However, it makes for very challenging games of hide-and-seek."

Marinette giggled. "That sounds like fun. You'll have to invite me next time you play."

"I'll make sure of it." Damian smiled, surprised to find that his happiness wasn't forced. He rarely engaged in childish behavior, and even more rarely did he find any enjoyment in it. Yet the mental image of playing a child's game with Marinette was pleasant to him. The feelings he had for her were deeper than Damian anticipated.

The pair got to work on their project. Damian sent out the text to his father as soon as he opened his laptop, leaving Marinette under the impression that he was researching sources. A series of irritable texts in the family groupchat confirmed the fact that Drake and Brown had been removed from their hiding spot.

"Do you want to try a cookie?" asked Marinette, pushing the Tupperware towards Damian.

"Thank you." Damian took one, just to be polite. Growing up in the League of Assassins, he never really had a taste for sweets. Alfred's baking was the extent of what he would tolerate. He took a bite - small, to back up his claim that he already ate if it turned out to be inedible. Surprisingly, it was nearly as good as Alfred's gingerbread cookies, and those were tailer made to Damian's taste. The cookies were heavy on the ginger and cloves, just as Damian liked. "These are delicious," Damian professed.

Marinette blushed. "Thanks. I know they taste a little different than store-bought gingerbread. My parents make them with a lot of ginger."

"These are much superior to store-bought cookies."

"Thanks. You know, you're a lot nicer outside of school. You always seemed kind of grumpy in class."

"I'm not a fan of the state-mandated curriculum."

Marinette nodded. "I get what you mean. I barely have any room in my schedule for my design classes, with all the mandatory classes that Gotham Academy makes us take. I'm lucky that I have my internship, otherwise, I think I would go crazy, taking so many classes that I don't care about."

"Your internship is with Audrey Bourgeoise, isn't it?"

Marinette nodded. "I was friends with her daughter, back in Paris. Originally it was going to be a four-year internship in New York City, but I renegotiated some of the terms so that I could do the first two years in Paris, then the last two in Gotham, while she established the new branch of her company."

"You renegotiated the terms of a prestigious internship at the age of fourteen? Weren't you afraid of losing it if you pushed too hard?"

Marinette shrugged, nonchalant as if it were normal for an intern to make such a bold move. "I didn't want to leave Paris. My whole life was there. I wasn't ready to just pick up and move to a new country."

"What changed that you were able to come to Gotham?"

"There were a lot of reasons. Hawkmoth was the biggest one. I felt nervous about leaving my family and friends behind when he was terrorizing the city. After he was defeated I felt a lot more comfortable leaving."

That aligned with the theory that Marinette was Ladybug. "What were the other reasons?"

"My age was one. I didn't feel ready to leave home at fourteen and my parents didn't like the idea of me leaving home that young either. Another big one was the fact that I didn't have a good handle on my personal style. I was worried that designing full-time in Audrey Bourgeoise's office would cause me to lose my originality. The worst thing I could imagine was watering down my designs to appeal to the rest of the fashion industry."

"Your conviction is impressive. Most in your position would not worry about selling out to obtain such a highly coveted position."

"Audrey said the same thing, though when she said it, she spoke it with annoyance, not admiration. I've never been highly motivated by wide-spread success. I don't need to be a household name to feel content with life. I just want to design clothes that I'm proud of."

The fluttering feeling in Damian's chest returned with full force, alongside a tendril of anger at the unfairness of the situation. Here was the most perfect person Damian had ever laid his eyes on, and he was forced to pick her apart piece by piece to figure out her deepest darkest secrets. Damian didn't know much about relationships, but this didn't seem like the way they were supposed to go.

"You look upset," Marinette's observation was tinged by the worry in her voice.

"I'm not upset," he assured her. "I was just wondering how I never noticed how interesting you are."

Marinette flushed, her cheeks turning pink. "What does that mean?"

Damian shrugged. While his nonchalant attitude was all a bluff, his admiration of her accomplishments was all real. "Most of our classmates feel accomplished with the most conventional of achievements. Yet you secured an internship at the side of one of the most renowned fashion critics in the world and you still stay humble about it. You weren't blind-sighted by the incredible opportunity. You fought to maintain your values, no matter if it meant losing something priceless."

Marinette's blush deepened. "That's just who I am. It's not special, it's me."

"It is you," agreed Damian. "And it is special."

Marinette gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by the emotion in his words. "We should get back to work," she said, self-consciously rubbing one cheek with the sleeve of her green wool sweater.

"Of course," Damian amicably agreed. He had pushed far enough for intel and had managed to get to know her a little better in the process. His flirting wasn't as blatant as it could have been, but it got the job done. Richard had said that once he knew the depths of his feelings he would know what to do. Richard was right. Damian's feelings were seemingly endless, a maze of all the things he liked about Marinette, in which every corner he turned was a new quirk that he couldn't un-notice. Yet Damian didn't want to pass on the responsibility of investigating Marinette to anyone else. He wanted a reason to spend time with her.

It wasn't the best situation. Damian wished that he could get to know her organically. However, Damian wasn't the type to dwell on the could-have-been. He had an opportunity to get to know Marinette right in front of him and he wasn't going to let it go.

Hours later, after Marinette went home, Richard stopped him in the hallway. "So what did you learn?"

"My investigation has proven inconclusive. I need to further get to know Marinette Dupain-Cheng if I want to uncover her identity. For research purposes, of course."

Richard laughed. "Of course."

#maribat #daminette #marinette x damian #maridami #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #miraculous ladybug fic

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infernwetrust · 3 years

Text

Marked You [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader]

Summary: Oh you know, just the interesting relationship between you and your best friend, the anti-christ.

Warnings: smut, implied smut, swearing, fluff, smallest amount of violence

WC: 2.0k

A/N: This was literally the first fucking thing on my mind when I woke up at 4:30AM. And reading all my mutuals works got me brainstormin’. Master list, here. Thank you for reading! -Juno

GIF by casikototmblr

Your relationship with Michael Langdon was very, clear. He was your best friend of course, the two of you, inseparable. Friends since the age of 5, you know everything about each other. While the two of you have your own friend group, everyone else knew where they stood when you and Michael got around each other. You trusted him more than anyone else in your life. And while the silly little arguments came, perks of the best friend contract, he never hurt you. He never put you down. A simple cool down period and he was in your room again, making the most ridiculous jokes.

On your worst days, Michael was the first person there. Exceptional at reading tone through text, he was at your door, movie and food ready, followed by a friendly cuddle. On his worst days, and his days were really fucking bad, you were there too. A short walk over to his house, you would allow him to vent angrily to you as you sat on his bed, watching as things flew around, feeling the temperature in the room fluctuate rapidly, but again, he made sure to never hurt you.

That's how it's always been though between you and Michael. Comfortable. And you appreciated that. Time after time, you'd sit in his lap amongst your friends, who thought nothing of it because they knew the deal. And amongst his annoying group of friends who knew better than to say anything out of pocket. You'd hold hands sometimes, walking wherever. Kisses on the cheek and forehead weren't uncommon either. And while that didn't deter every whore at school to not throw themselves at him, it did make it hard for you to find yourself a boyfriend.

To those who didn't know him well, Michael was intimidating. He stood at 5'11, dominating blue eyes, charming smile. Outside of his comfort zone, he was very reserved and closed off, which at times made it seem like he was hard to talk to, but anyone that did know him could say he was the sweetest boy around this dreadful place. A sweet boy who isn't afraid of anything or anyone.

When you finally did get your first boyfriend, he was almost your first everything, until he fucked that up. Yes, he was a douche. Yes, Michael did make him pay. And, while he could of used his powers, he decided to go the old fashion way for a change. And while you had yelled at him the same day, saying he didn't need to do that, that rather large action, brought the two of you even closer. Maybe a little too close?

Senior year, 18, and you were still a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but your hormones got the best of you at times. You didn't trust very many guys outside of Michael and your friend group and you didn't just want to give yourself to just anybody that even looked at you sexually. You'd listen to all your friends brag about who they've slept with or who they were dating. You knew Michael was sexually active too, but he never went out of his way to talk about that with you, which you appreciated. Not that it would of mattered, right? Wrong.

"This has got to be the dumbest shit I've ever seen." Michael said, referring to the movie in front of the two of you. The both of you sat on the couch in his living room, Ms. Mead asleep for the night, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder as you nestled into his side. He waited a few seconds for a response that usually came quick to anything he said, but when you didn't say anything, he turned his head to look at you. And look at you, just staring. "You okay, Y/N?"

You still didn't give him an answer. Instead, your eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips and you swore that you could feel your face inching closer to his. And with Michael's unpredictability at times, you didn't know if it was his powers, but either way he was getting closer too. You gently put your lips on his in what started out as a gentle kiss that soon escalated. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pulled yourself away.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." you repeated. "I just.. I-, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"You're sorry?" Michael grinned. He was hot, temperature and looks. "I finally get the one kiss that means something to me and you're sorry?"

"Wait wh-,"

"You're gonna be real sorry if you don't kiss me again." No more questions because you were wanting it just as bad as he was, you slammed your lips back into his. And he got handsy QUICK. Tongues exploring each other's insides, he grabbed every inch of you that he could, pausing momentarily so that he could pull his shirt off, followed by yours. His hands found their way to your breasts again, squeezing them before his fingers slowly trailed down to your stomach and in the waistband of your jeans.

"Wait-..." you mumbled against his lips, grabbing his wrist. "I-, I'm, I'm not-,"

"I know." Michael said, staring deeply into your eyes. "I'll be gentle, but if you want me to stop, I will. But God, and I use that term loosely, I've wanted you forever."

"I don't want you to stop. I just thought maybe you didn't know..."

"I'm always gonna know about my Y/N." Michael grabbed both of your hands, holding them together as he gave them a kiss. "If I do anything to hurt you, please stop me." You nodded and allowed him to resume. And he took care of you, just like he said he would.

"Hey." Michael said to you the next day, startling you at your locker.

"Shit." you said, almost dropping one of your books.

"Did I scare you?"

"You always scare me." He gave a small laugh before he face became serious again. "But about last night..."

"What about it?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow.

"Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" he asked confused.

"For being my first. For being so gentle and so caring. And for just being my best friend. Oh and being cute, a bonus."

"It's what best friends are for right?" He leaned up against the locker next to you, eyes piercing through your body as he licked his upper lip.

"I mean, no not really." you laughed. "But I'm honestly glad it was you."

And it just didn't stop there. Sexual encounters between you and your "best friend" became regular. Countless times you found yourself being dragged into the utility closet between periods. And it was always a quicky. Either you were on your knees for him or he was on his knees for you. Thankfully this room was located at the far end of the hall because the noises that came from it were sometimes so ungodly.

Wet and sloppy noises and his moans crowded the room as you sucked Michael off relentlessly, drool dangling from your chin, hand wet as you stroked him at the pace you sucked him. As he got closer, you let him take control, hands finding their way behind him to grip his ass tightly as he released himself down your throat. Re-dressing, he sent you on your way with a sloppy kiss, a smack on the ass, and a "love you". And the next time you knew it was your turn.

If you've never squirted before, you did now. This forced Michael to bring a back up shirt for the days he knew he was going to be between your legs in that closet. He wouldn't let up either, knowing how sensitive you were and how little time the two of you had. An intense mixture of his mouth and fingers, he worked you like a pro, not caring that his face was soaked in your juices. And when you squirted, he took all of it like it was nothing. He's left you speechless and breathless so many times, taking you above and beyond. If he was fast enough, he'd stroke himself for you, leaving his mouth to do all the work, knowing the sight of him got you off quicker and if you, yes you, got lucky enough, he'd orgasm with you, all over his hand, and you'd clean it right up.

There was no doubt that he brought out your inner sexual nature. The joy of being a sinner, yes? Your favorite place to be was in his room, music playing in the background, underneath him. Some evenings it was rough and fast. He'd fuck you deep into his mattress, arms pinned above your head as he hair dangled over his face. Or hand wrapped around your throat as you held onto his wrist. Most evenings though, it was slow and passionate and that's when the both of you realized that it was maybe more than just bfs with benefits.

Michael made love to you more than anything, taking his time to fill you up. Hands carefully and gently roaming your body as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waists. Soft kisses on the lips and neck. When he fucked you, he made sure to hit the spots that made you cry out, every single thrust. He always took care of you first, made sure you came, and more than once. His favorite place to have you was in your room, LED lights red just like he liked it, on top him, forcing you to ride out your orgasm until you either had another one or he reached his.

You two weren't shy of public adventures either. Hand jobs and being fingered behind any hidden surface, as long as the conditions were right and it turned you on so much how Michael could keep a straight face while you did it, but projected his loud thoughts into your mind so only you could hear. You struggled most times to keep yourself together, but obviously not reckless enough to give the both of you up. Dress rooms in the malls were a favorite too as he could pound you as hard as he wanted to, knowing that you couldn't let out a sound or risk getting caught.

And when enough was enough, it was enough. How dare another guy try to flirt with you at a party that Michael was hosting. Sure, you two weren't official, but you were official. Anyone with eyes could see that you were off limits, but not this guy who hadn't stopped talking to you despite your clear lack of interest in what he had to say.

"Clearly she doesn't want to be bothered." Michael said, suddenly appearing behind you, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh come on, Michael." the guy said. "Can't a guy get a little action every now and then." Michael, already buzzed and now with an even shorter fuse, snapped, grabbing the guy by his throat, drawing the eyes of those in the vicinity who knew better than to object.

"If I see you talk to her again, and trust me I'll know, I'll snap your neck. Understood?"

"Michael..." you said softly, grabbing his arm. "It's okay. Really. C'mon."

"Understood?!" Michael said again, his grip tightening.

"Under... understood." the guy weakly replied and Michael let him go, shoving him back so he stumbled backwards.

"Hey!" you said, pulling him towards you. "I said it was okay."

"No one is gonna flirt with my girl and everything just be okay? Do you want to know what he was thinking about? Cause I can tell you and I promise that you will not be happy." But you had already tuned him out after hearing the words "my girl".

"What did you just say?" you asked, amused.

"Nothing. Just. Come on. Let's go have a drink or something. I've barely seen you all night."

"But all of sudden show up when a guy starts talking to me? Nuh Uh, Michael Langdon. I know you. You were watching me. Your girl, huh?"

"You were always my girl, Y/N. You were always going to be, my girl and you always will be."

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @mikhalxngdon @fernfiction @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine

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calcifermovesthecastle · 4 years

Text

“You had been trying to tell a story about what happened to you the other day, but your voice kept getting drowned out and you slowly just stopped talking and went quiet, feeling unimportant. You just sat, hearing everyone else talk, retreating into your mind before excusing yourself. No one would notice anyways.

MISTA:

-Notices your shift in energy almost immediately. Keeps glancing your way. The look on your face doesn’t sit right with him. What happened? Are you okay?

-When you get up and walk away after mumbling something about the bathroom, he’s worried.

-Will give you the benefit of the doubt, but when you don’t come back within a reasonable time, he’s going to go looking for you.

-when he cant find you, he’s really worried. He returns to the gang, asking if they knew where you went.

-Everyone is baffled. You disappeared? Where are you?

-It’s the general consensus that you left the restaurant, and he offers to go looking for you.

-He looks everywhere. All over town. When he cant find you, he finally decides to see if you went home.

-When he shows up, the door is unlocked, and he lets himself in, searching for you.

-He finds you sitting in bed, hugging a pillow, your eyes tinged red and the skin around them rubbed raw. His heart drops immediately, wondering what got you in this state.

-He sits next to you, asking what’s wrong, You’re startled out of your funk, staring at him in surprise before turning away, burying your face into your pillow, mumbling incoherently.

-”I cant hear you when you’re mumbling into the pillow like that, Bombolone.”

-You lift your head, looking up at the ceiling, sighing. “It’s not important anyways. Don’t worry about it.”

-”You disappear from the Libeccio with barely a word. Make me search for you for hours, and I find you at home, looking miserable, and you’re telling me to not worry? No way in hell. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

-You avoid looking at him, croaking out a half assed explanation on how you felt unimportant, unheard. it was whatever. It didn’t matter anyways. You knew you were the least important in the group. It didn’t really matter what you had to say.

-He’s completely floored. You look anywhere but his face, opting to just press your face into the pillow you’re holding.

-”I think what you have to say is important. Tell me your story. I’ll listen.”

-”It really doesn’t matter, Mista. I’m overreacting anyways. It’s not a big deal. Go have fun with everyone. I just want to go to bed.”

-”I’m not leaving until you tell me the gotdam story, Zabaione.” He sprawls out on top of you, not moving a muscle. You can’t help but crack a smile, and tell him your story, falling asleep underneath him when you’re done because he doesn’t move. (He do be warm tho)

GIORNO:

-He’s being pretty quiet himself, so he automatically notices when you go quiet and close in on yourself

-Watches you sit in silence, clearly chewing something over, your face flushed in embarrassment before you slowly stand and mumble something about needing the bathroom.

-Watches as you walk off, getting up and following you when you walk out the front door instead.

-He catches up to you pretty quick, falling in step next to you, searching your face. You turn away from him, your eyes blurred.

-Bad idea.

-He takes your chin in his hand, turning you to face him. This action causes you to crumple, your frustration spilling over onto your face. He stares in shock at the hot tears pour down your cheeks, wiping them away.

-”I just want to go home and go to bed, Giorno. Please let me go.”

-He slides his arm down to take hold of your hand, squeezing gently when you wipe your eyes with the back of your free hand.

-”I’ll go with you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

-Your face flushes in embarrassment, and your mouth opens and closes, nothing coming out, before you shake your head, looking away.

-”Don’t worry about it, Giorno. It’s not important.”

-”Well obviously if it’s making you this upset, it is important to you.” He gets you home, going inside with you and sitting next to you on the couch.

-You shake your head, curling up around one of your couch pillows. which frustrates him. He Sits back on the couch, trying to figure out how to get you to talk to him.

-When he opens his mouth to speak again, you crack, and burst into tears, blurting out how you feel invisible and unimportant and like you don’t actually matter

-”Oh, bella, That is absolutely not true in the slightest. I treasure you so much. Everyone else cares too, It’s just hard to be heard sometimes.” He’ll rub your back gently while you cry, taking one of your hands in his and squeezing.

-God help him if you bury your face in his shoulder, though. He’ll panic for a moment before securing his arms around you, making sure you feel genuinely cared for.

BUCCIARATI:

-He is listening. He really is. He notices the minute your voice fades out, looking up as your eyes glaze over.

-he tilts his head, wondering why you dropped off in the middle of the story. It was very interesting. Why did you stop?

-Watches you sit in silence for a moment, his eyebrows shooting up when you mumble something about not feeling good before getting up and leaving.

-He gets up, excusing himself as well, following you.

-When he finally catches up, you’re unlocking your front door. You hadn’t even noticed he was following you.

-”What’s wrong, Bella? Why didn’t you finish your story?”

-You jump and turn, seeing him and immediately casting your eyes down, trying to hide the tears welling in them, stepping inside. He follows, concerned.

-You avoid his eyes, mumbling something incoherent, wiping your eyes. and taking a shaky breath.

-He asks again, crouching in front of you, taking your hands in his.

-”It- It’s not important. I’m just tired, Bruno.” You avoid his gaze. He squeezes your hands.

-”I wanted to hear how the story ended, Bella. Please at least share the rest with me?”

-You sigh, finishing your story, quite tearfully. He stands, smiling, wrapping his arms around you.

-”I’m sorry, Bruno...I just felt... kinda like a ghost. Unimportant... Nothing new, It just, hit hard today for some reason.” You swallow, just wanting to lie down.

-”I don’t want you feeling that way, Bella. It’s absolutely not true. Come, lets get you in bed. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

-He’s very good at making you feel appreciated.

ABBACCHIO:

-Hears you go quiet, and then watches you get up and leave without so much as a goodbye, and he’s immediately following you because the AUDACITY

-He’s a lil rough, grabbing your shoulder before you leave, letting go immediately when he sees tears on your face oh god oh fuck oh god did he hurt you

-When you turn to leave again, hiding your face with your hair, he’s gentler this time, turning you to face him.

-”No, I just want to go home. I’m tired, okay?” Your voice trembles and you hug your arms to, guarding yourself.

-”I understand. But I don’t want you walking home alone in this state. Give me a minute, Okay? I’m going to walk you home.”

-He retreats to tell the gang what’s going on, and when he comes back you’ve already left STOP LET HIM HELP.

-He goes after you, catching up and grabbing your shoulder, clearly worried.

-”Oi, I thought I told you to wait for me!”

-You look even more upset now, and he retracts his hand immediately, sighing. “Don’t run off like that, okay? It’s not a good Idea for you to walk alone like this. You’re bound to be taken advantage of.”

-You wipe your eyes and shrug. He has to strain his ears to hear what you say.

-”It’s not like I’m important enough to be noticed by anyone anyways. I would have been fine.”

-”Who told you that absurd lie? Who told you you aren’t important?”

-You go to answer, but cut yourself off, just shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders. He crosses his arms, before sighing and turning.

-”Well, either way, I’m walking you home.” He debates on offering you his arm, ultimately decides you wouldn’t want the contact, and shoves his hands in his pockets, walking with you. His mind glitches when you lace your hand through his arm.

-he can clearly tell that you’re beating yourself up over performing that small action, and grunts out an “It’s okay” to make you feel better.

-once you’re home, you bid him goodbye, and break down the minute you close the door.

-He pushes it open, not even caring about intruding on your privacy, demanding to know what on earth has you so riled up.

-”Oi, I want to be able to help you but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Is it that you feel unimportant? Because you’re not! And trying to make yourself invisible isn’t going to help your case!”

-You have nowhere to go but forward, so you bury your face in his shoulder and try to calm down, which scares the hell out of him, but he rolls with it if this is what helps.

-”I’m sorry, I just feel so unheard all the time and I feel like I don’t really matter to anybody, like I just float through people’s lives. It usually doesn’t bother me so much but for some reason today hit really hard. I didn’t mean to worry you, Abbacchio...”

-”Well you matter to me. I want you to- I want you to know that.”

-”I really just want to go to bed...” You sigh, pulling away, and he moves to leave. “But I don’t want to be alone...”

-Oh.

-Abbacchio.exe has stopped working. Are you insinuating that he joins you? Nani tf? Hwhat? Him? Of all People? H i m???

-”...So please stay?” You’re voice is pleading, and he looks up to see you on the verge of tears again.

-”Are you sure?”

-You nod, taking his hands and pulling him back to your room, crawling into bed and curling up, pressing your face into your pillow for a moment.

-He stands around awkwardly before you pat the bed next to you, indicating that you want him to join.

-He’s very stiff but you are so important to him I promise.

JOSUKE:

-He could have sworn he heard you speaking a moment ago. He was sure of it.

-He glances over to see you kind of curled in on yourself, looking a little bit sad. He keeps his eyes on you, still continuing his conversation with Okuyasu.

-You shake your head, barely discernable, and stand, shouldering your bag and lowering your head, just walking away. He stops you before you can get out the door, asking where you’re going.

-”I’m really tired... I’m just gonna head home.” You keep your head down, and he knows something’s wrong. He watches you leave, unable to shake the feeling that he should go after you.

-He grabs his bag, bidding Okuyasu and anyone else that had joined you goodbye, walking to your house, finding you trying to unlock your front door with trembling hands.

-”Hey, what’s wrong?” He’s floored when you let out a frustrated sob, tossing your bag down with your keys and burying your face in your hands.

-His arms are immediately around you (He p a n i c) and he doesn’t say a word, resting his chin on the top of your head. You cry for a minute, before realizing the situation and trying to pull away.

-”I’m not letting go until I know what’s bothering you.” He squeezes you tighter for a moment. “I’m going to stand here all day if I have to.”

-you blurt out an unintelligible reason why you’re upset, and he shakes his head, urging you to tell him again, clearer this time. You take a deep breath and tell him the truth, that you felt invisible and unimportant, nothing new, so you just left. you were tired. His heart b r e a k s.

-”Babe...” He pulls away, unlocking your front door for you, letting you inside. You take advantage of the freedom and make a beeline for your room, burrowing into your bed. He’s right behind you, laying with you. “Babe, that’s not true. You’re important to me. I really like hearing your voice. I want to hear what you have to say. Tell me.”

-You shake your head, burying your face in your pillow. “It’s a stupid story. It doesn’t really matter anyways, don’t worry about it.”

-You did not just say that to him.

-He’s going to bug you about it until you tell him out of annoyance, and press sloppy kisses to your face when you finish, his eyes glinting in triumph.

-He just wants you to know you’re cared for Q_Q

POLNAREFF:

-It’s prolly his fault ngl bear with me

-stops talking when you go quiet, apologizing, urging you to go on. You shake your head.

-”Oh... It’s not important anyways. Go ahead, Polnareff.” You give him a weak smile, and he keeps a wary eye on you for the rest of the night, worried he upset you.

-When you think you’re unnoticed enough, you stand quietly and steal off to your hotel room.

-He looks over, in the middle of asking you something, noticing you’re gone, and he’s like oh no.

-Excuses himself, saying he’s going to go to bed, and immediately goes up to your hotel room, knocking on your door. He doesn’t hear you inside, so he checks to see if the door is unlocked, thankful to find that it is.

-He lets himself in, finding you sitting on the floor, your back pressed against the bed, your head buried in your knees.

-You hear the bed squeak and look up to see him laying in your bed, watching you, concern written all over his face.

-”Did I upset you?”

-You shake your head, not saying anything.

-”Are you sure? You got really quiet and left without a word. I Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

-”It... it’s not you. this happens all the time.” You hate that your voice quavers. “I’m the least important person in the group, anyways. It doesn’t matter, so don’t blame yourself. It’s just exhausting, feeling unimportant.”

-He pounces forward on the bed, his expression crushed, shocked. You lean back in surprise.

-”Who told you you aren’t important?! It’s not true!” He reaches forward, dragging you up on the bed with him, caging you in an embrace.

-Nani in T A R N A T I O N

-You’re shocked, and he prompts you again. He really wants an answer. When you finally tell him that it’s just your mind, he pulls back, looking at you fiercley.

-”You’re very important, don’t lie to yourself. If anything, I care about you a lot. Please believe that.”

-You nod in silence, and he holds you tight, closing his eyes. You doze off like that.

-He loves you okay

FOO FIGHTERS ( My BABEY)

-You cant really go hide in a prison? So you just kinda get up and go to another vacant table and put your head down.

-She follows bc oh no what’s wrong you were okay a minute ago

-Did she do something?

-”Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

-Will sit R i g h t next to you, literally pressed against your body.

-You jump at the contact, and when you look up, she’s surprised to see you looking so sad and lonely.

-”Ah, don’t worry about it FF. It doesn’t matter.”

-You aren’t going to be able to get rid of her that easily.

-”Are you sure? I care about you so I want to make sure you’re okay.” She W I L L press closer to you.

-”Really, FF. It’s not important.” Your voice shakes a lil, and she is not having it. She’s going to pester you until you tell her what’s wrong; that you feel unheard and unimportant. Invisible. But it really doesn’t matter because you don’t so she really shouldn’t worry.

-”But you were telling a funny story and I wanted to hear the end of it, babe.” She pouts a lil, resting her hand on top of yours. “Please finish it for me?”

-You sigh and oblige, finishing the story. Her big smile once you’re done is contagious.

-”Don’t ever think you’re not important, okay? It’s not true. I really care about you and enjoy your company. You never fail to make me smile. I promise I’m telling the truth.

-S h e w i l l k i s s y o u r n o s e e e e e e e e e e ;_;

-She will engage you in any type of conversation afterward. It could be about the stupidest thing but she loves to see you talking and enjoying yourself and your time with her

-Oh my god I love her so much

#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo headcanons #jojo no kimyou na bouken #bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #giorno x reader #mista x reader #abbacchio x reader #josuke x reader #polnareff x reader #ff x reader #foo fighters x reader

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ot3 · 3 years

Text

i watched red vs blue: zero with my dear friends today and i was asked to “post” my “thoughts” on the subject. Please do not click this readmore unless, for some reason, you want to read three thousand words on the subject of red vs blue: zero critical analysis. i highly doubt that’s the reason anyone is following me, but hey.

anyway. here you have it.

Here are my opinions on RVB0 as someone who has quite literally no nostalgia for any older RVB content. I’ve seen seasons 1-13 once and bits and pieces of it more than once here and there, but I only saw it for the first time within the past couple of months. I’ve literally never seen any other RT/AH content. I can name a few people who worked on OG Red vs. Blue but other than Mounty Oum I have NO idea who is responsible for what, really, or what anything else they’ve ever worked on is, or whether or not they’re awful people. I know even less about the people making RVB0 - All I know is that the main writer is named Torrian but I honestly don’t even know if that’s a first name, a last name, or a moniker. All this to say; nothing about my criticism is rooted in any perceived slight against the franchise or branding by the new staff members, because I don’t know or care about any of it. In fact, I’m going to try and avoid any direct comparison between RVB0 and earlier seasons of RVB as a means of critique until the very end, where I’ll look at that relationship specifically.

So here is my opinion of RVB0 as it stands right now:

1. The Writing

Everything about RVB0 feels as if it was written by a first-time writer who hasn’t learned to kill his darlings. The narrative is both simultaneously far too full, leaving very little breathing room for character interaction, and oddly sparse, with a story that lacks any meaningful takeaway, interesting ideas, or genuine emotional connection. It also feels like it’s for a very much younger audience - I don’t mean this as a negative at all. I love tv for kids. I watch more TV for kids than I do for adults, mostly, but I think it’s important to address this because a lot of the time ‘this is for kids’ is used to act like you’re not allowed to critique a narrative thoroughly. It definitely changes the way you critique it, but the critique can still be in good faith. I watched the entirety of RVB0 only after it was finished, in one sitting, and I was giving it my full attention, essentially like it was a movie. I’m going to assume it was much better to watch in chunks, because as it stood, there was literally no time built into the narrative to process the events that had just transpired, or try and predict what events might be coming in the future. When there’s no time to think about the narrative as you’re watching it, the narrative ends up as being something that happens to the audience, not something they engage with. It’s like the difference between taking notes during a lecture or just sitting and listening. If you’re making no attempt to actively process what’s happening, it doesn’t stick in your mind well. I found myself struggling to recall the events and explanations that had immediately transpired because as soon as one thing had happened, another thing was already happening, and it was like a mental juggling act to try and figure out which information was important enough to dwell on in the time we were given to dwell on it.

Which brings me to another point - pacing. Every event in the show, whether a character moment, a plot moment, or a fight scene, felt like it was supposed to land with almost the exact same amount of emotional weight. It all felt like The Most Important Thing that had Yet Happened. And I understand that this is done as an attempt to squeeze as much as possible out of a rather short runtime, but it fundamentally fails. When everything is the most important thing happening, it all fades into static. That’s what most of 0’s narrative was to me: static. It’s only been a few hours since I watched it but I had to go step by step and type out all of the story beats I could remember and run it by my friends who are much more enthusiastic RVB fans than I am to make sure I hadn’t missed or forgotten anything. I hadn’t, apparently, but the fact that my takeaway from the show was pretty accurate and also disappointingly lackluster says a lot. Strangely enough, the most interesting thing the show alluded to - a holo echo, or whatever the term they used was - was one of the things least extrapolated upon in the show’s incredibly bulky exposition. Benefit of the doubt says that’s something they’ll explore in future seasons (are they getting more? Is that planned? I just realized I don’t actually know.)

And bulky it was! I have quite honestly never seen such flagrant disregard for the rule of “show, don’t tell.” There was not a single ounce of subtlety or implication involved in the storytelling of RVB0. Something was either told to you explicitly, or almost entirely absent from the narrative. Essentially zilch in between. We are told the dynamic the characters have with each other, and their personality pros and cons are listed for us conveniently by Carolina. The plot develops in exposition dumps. This is partially due to the series’ short runtime, but is also very much a result of how that runtime was then used by the writers. They sacrificed a massive chunk of their show for the sake of cramming in a ton of fight scenes, and if they wanted to keep all of those fight scenes, it would have been necessary to pare down their story and characters proportionally in comparison, but they didn’t do that either. They wanted to have it both ways and there simply wasn’t enough time for it.

The story itself is… uninteresting. It plays out more like the flimsy premise of a video game quest rather than a piece of media to be meaningfully engaged with. RVB0 is I think something I would be pitched by a guy who thinks the MCU and BNHA are the best storytelling to come out of the past decade. It is nothing but tropes. And I hate having to use this as an insult! I love tropes. The worst thing about RVB0 is that nothing it does is wholly unforgivable in its own right. Hunter x Hunter, a phenomenal shonen, is notoriously filled with pages upon pages of detailed exposition and explanations of things, and I absolutely love it. Leverage, my favorite TV show of all time, is literally nothing but a five man band who has to learn to work as a team while seemingly systematically hitting a checklist of every relevant trope in the book. Pacific Rim is an incredibly straightforward good guys vs giant monsters blockbuster to show off some cool fight scenes such as a big robot cutting an alien in half with a giant sword, and it’s some of the most fun I ever have watching a movie. Something being derivative, clunky, poorly executed in some specific areas, narratively weak, or any single one of these flaws, is perfectly fine assuming it’s done with the intention and care that’s necessary to make the good parts shine more. I’ll forgive literally any crime a piece of media commits as long as it’s interesting and/or enjoyable to consume. RVB0 is not that. I’m not sure what the main point of RVB0 was supposed to be, because it seemingly succeeds at nothing. It has absolutely nothing new or innovative to justify its lack of concern for traditional storytelling conventions. Based solely on the amount of screentime things were given, I’d be inclined to say the narrative existed mostly to give flimsy pretense for the fight scenes, but that’s an entire other can of worms.

2. The Visuals + Fights

I have no qualms with things that are all style and no substance. Sometimes you just want to see pretty colors moving on the screen for a while or watch some cool bad guys and monsters or whatever get punched. RVB0 was not this either. The show fundamentally lacked a coherent aesthetic vision. Much of the show had a rather generic sci-fi feel to it with the biggest standouts to this being the very noir looking cityscape, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like something from a batman game, or the temple, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like a world of warcraft raid. They were obviously attempting to get variety in their environment design, which I appreciate, but they did this without having a coherent enough visual language to feel like it was all part of the same world. In general, there was also just a lack of visual clarity or strong shots. The value range in any given scene was poor, the compositions and framing were functional at best, and the character animation was unpleasantly exaggerated. It just doesn’t really look that good beyond fancy rendering techniques.

The fight scenes are their entire own beast. Since ‘FIGHT SCENE’ is the largest single category of scenes in the show, they definitely feel worth looking at with a genuine critical eye. Or, at least, I’d like to, but honestly half the time I found myself almost unable to look at them. The camera is rarely still long enough to really enjoy what you’re watching - tracking the motion of the character AND the camera at such constant breakneck high speeds left little time to appreciate any nuances that might have been present in the choreography or character animation. I tried, believe me, I really did, but the fight scenes leave one with the same sort of dizzy convoluted spectacle as a Michael Bay transformers movie. They also really lacked the impact fight scenes are supposed to have.

It’s hard to have a good, memorable fight scene without it doing one of three things: 1. Showing off innovative or creative fighting styles and choreography 2. Making use of the fight’s setting or environment in an engaging and visually interesting way or 3. Further exploring a character’s personality or actions by the way they fight. It’s also hard to do one of these things on its own without at least touching a bit on the other two. For the most part, I find RVB0’s fight scenes fail to do this. Other than rather surface level insubstantial factors, there was little to visually distinguish any of RVB0’s fight scenes from each other. Not only did I find a lot of them difficult to watch and unappealing, I found them all difficult to watch and unappealing in an almost identical way. They felt incredibly interchangeable and very generic. If you could take a fight scene and change the location it was set and also change which characters were participating and have very little change, it’s probably not a good fight scene.

I think “generic” is really just the defining word of RVB0 and I think that’s also why it falls short in the humor department as well.

3. The Comedy

Funny shit is hard to write and humor is also incredibly subjective but I definitely got almost no laughs out of RVB0. I think a total of three. By far the best joke was Carolina having a cast on top of her armor, which, I must stress, is an incredibly funny gag and I love it. But overall I think the humor fell short because it felt like it was tacked on more than a natural and intentional part of this world and these characters. A lot of the jokes felt like they were just thrown in wherever they’d fit, without any build up to punchlines and with little regard for what sort of joke each character would make. Like, there was some, obviously Raymond’s sense of humor had the most character to it, but the character-oriented humor still felt very weak. When focusing on character-driven humor, there’s a LOT you can establish about characters based on what sort of jokes they choose to make, who they’re picking as the punchlines of these jokes, and who their in-universe audience for the jokes is. In RVB0, the jokes all felt very immersion-breaking and self aware, directed wholly towards the audience rather than occurring as a natural result of interplay between the characters. This is partially due to how lackluster the character writing was overall, and the previously stated tight timing, but also definitely due to a lack of a real understanding about what makes a joke land.

A rule of thumb I personally hold for comedy is that, when push comes to shove, more specific is always going to be more funny. The example I gave when trying to explain this was this:

saying two characters had awkward sex in a movie theater: funny

saying two characters had an awkward handjob in a cinemark: even funnier

saying two characters spent 54 minutes of 11:14's 1:26 runtime trying out some uncomfortably-angled hand stuff in the back of a dilapidated cinemark that lost funding halfway through retrofitting into a dinner theater: the funniest

The more specific a joke is, the more it relies on an in-depth understanding of the characters and world you’re dealing with and the more ‘realistic’ it feels within the context of your media. Especially with this kind of humor. When you’re joking with your friends, you don’t go for stock-humor that could be pulled out of a joke book, you go for the specific. You aim for the weak spots. If a set of jokes could be blindly transplanted into another world, onto another cast of characters, then it’s far too generic to be truly funny or memorable. I don’t think there’s a single joke in RVB0 where the humor of it hinged upon the characters or the setting.

Then there’s the issue of situational comedy and physical comedy. This is really where the humor being ‘tacked on’ shows the most. Once again, part of what makes actually solid comedy land properly is it feeling like a natural result of the world you have established. Real life is absurd and comical situations can be found even in the midst of some pretty grim context, and that’s why black comedy is successful, and why comedy shows are allowed to dip into heavier subject matter from time to time, or why dramas often search for levity in humor. It’s a natural part of being human to find humor in almost any situation. The key thing, though, once again, is finding it in the situation. Many of RVB0’s attempts at humor, once again, feel like they would be the exact same jokes when stripped from their context, and that’s almost never good. A pretty fundamental concept in both storytelling in general but particularly comedy writing is ‘setup and payoff’. No joke in RVB0 is a reward for a seemingly innocuous event in an earlier scene or for an overlooked piece of environmental design. The jokes pop in when there’s time for them in between all the exposition and fighting, and are gone as soon as they’re done. There’s no long term, underlying comedic throughline to give any sense of coherence or intent to the sense of humor the show is trying to establish. Every joke is an isolated one-off quip or one-liner, and it fails to engage the audience in a meaningful way.

All together, each individual component of RVB0 feels like it was conjured up independently, without any concern to how it interacted with the larger product they were creating. And I think this is really where it all falls apart. RVB0 feels criminally generic in a way reminiscent of mass-market media which at least has the luxury of attributing these flaws, this complete and total watering down of anything unique, to heavy oversight and large teams with competing visions. But I don’t think that’s the case for RVB0. I don’t know much about what the pipeline is like for this show, but I feel like the fundamental problem it suffers from is a lack of heart.

In comparison to Red vs. Blue

Let's face it. This is a terrible successor to Red vs. Blue. I wouldn’t care if NONE of the old characters were in it - that’s not my problem. I haven’t seen past season 13 because from what I heard the show already jumped the shark a bit and then some. That’s not what makes it a poor follow up. What makes it a bad successor is that it fundamentally lacks any of the aspects of the OG RVB that made it unique or appealing at all. I find myself wondering what Torrian is trying to say with RVB0 and quite literally the only answer I find myself falling back onto is that he isn’t trying to say anything at all. Regardless of what you feel about the original RVB, it undeniably had things to say. The opening “why are we here” speech does an excellent job at establishing that this is a show intended to poke fun at the misery of bureaucracy and subservience to nonsensical systems, not just in the context of military life, but in a very broad-strokes way almost any middle-class worker can relate to. At the end of the day, fiction is at its best when it resonates with some aspect of its audience’s life. I know instantly which parts of the original Red vs Blue I’m supposed to relate to. I can’t say anything even close to that about 0.

RVB is an absurdist parody that heavily satirizes aspects of the military and life as a low-on-the-food-chain worker in general that almost it’s entire target audience will be familiar with. The most significant draw of the show to me was how the dialogue felt like listening to my friends bicker with each other in our group chats. It required no effort for me to connect with and although the narrative never outright looked to the camera and explained ‘we are critiquing the military’s stupid red tape and self-fullfilling eternal conflict’ they didn’t need to, because the writing trusted itself and its audience enough to believe this could be conveyed. It is, in a way, the complete antithesis to the badass superhero macho military man protagonist that we all know so well. RVB was saying something, and it was saying it in a rather novel format.

Nothing about RVB0 is novel. Nothing about RVB0 says anything. Nothing about it compels me to relate to any of these characters or their situations. RVB0 doesn’t feel like absurdism, or satire. RVB0 feels like it is, completely uncritically, the exact media that RVB itself was riffing off of. Both RVB0 and RVB when you watch them give you the feeling that what you’re seeing here is kids on a playground larping with toy soldiers. It’s all ridiculous and over the top cliche stupid garbage where each side is trying to one-up the other. The critical difference is, in RVB, we’re supposed to look at this and laugh at how ridiculous this is. In RVB0 we’re supposed to unironically think this is all pretty badass.

The PFL arc of the original RVB existed to show us that setting up an elite team of supersoldiers with special powers was something done in bad faith, with poor outcomes, that left everyone involved either cruel, damaged, or dead. It was a bad thing. And what we’re seeing in RVB0 is the same premise, except, this time it’s good. We’re supposed to root for this format. RVB0 feels much more like a demo reel, cutscenes from a video game that doesn’t exist, or a shonen anime fanboy’s journal scribbling than it feels like a piece of media with any objective value in any area. In every area that RVB was anti-establishment, RVB0 is pure undiluted establishment through and through.

#long post #really long post guys. look out !#rvb

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

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Zen w/ a blind MC [HCS]

request(s); No one request other things than idv or dr (or arcana but?) and this a a multi blog soo Zen (mm) w a blind MC nyoom

paring(s); zen x blind!gn!reader

warning(s); reader is gender-neutral, reader is blind, cussing, celebrity scandals, twinkle of angst, fluff, talks about celebrity reputation, tokenism, cringey pick up lines, the ‘beast’, implies that zen is a bit sadistic but it depends how you read it, 99.9999% sfw other than that.

note; sorry if i wrote too much!! i haven’t written for MM in a while so i just got- way too many ideas- hh

◊ When Zen first met you, he definitely, definitely used kid gloves on you. He’d pester you a lot, if he knew you were blind, he’d automatically assume you were much less capable than you were. He’d probably neutralize himself; so if Jumin were to ever provoke him or piss him off in any way, he’d kind of push his need to smack the guy down, because he didn’t want to scare you.

◊ Furthermore, he’s usually like this with everyone new, that he likes; but with you, it’s more... intense, as he now knows that you’re blind.

◊ it’s kind of like, his big strong man instinct kicks in whenever he sees you.

◊ However those are only first impressions! I promise he improves all throughout your relationship.

◊ Later on, — when he actually gets to know you better — he finds himself getting more comfortable with you; treating you less like a blind person, and more of a... ‘friend’. But he catches himself, and tries not to— which is obviously dumb, and he should’ve just stuck with the friend thing.

◊ Zen is helpful, yes. But sometimes it’s overbearing. He would do everything for you, to the point where you don’t even need to lift a finger, because he’ll be there lifting it for you. Sure, it’s nice; but he has to see that you’re very capable, just because you’re blind doesn’t mean you’re a child.

◊ You’re going to have to tell him that sometimes, you can do things for yourself, and that he should let you do your thang, chicken wang!(sorry)

◊ he’ll be confused at first; why didn’t you want his help? But he would respect your wishes, as a gentleman should. Though it would take some time.

◊ okay let’s be honest here, Zen loves that you’re blind. He has this built-in gentleman, charmer personality voodoo crap, so seeing as how you have more trouble doing things at cause to your sigh impairment, he’d definitely feel the huge ego boost every time he helps you. He loves feeling helpful to you, so praise him— but not too much.

◊ If word got out that he was dating, of course it’d be scandalous; but if word got out that he was dating someone blind?

◊ There would be ‘good’ benefits, that would only seem good if you were shallow.

◊ Zen would get ‘points’ and people would view you as a charity case that he either started dating because he would get a good reputation for it, or because he pitied you and accepted your confession — which is funny because Zen is the one who confessed to you first(that’s another story, I’ll get to it soon.)

◊ He’s a bit of a himbo sometimes; so he wouldn’t really realize that that was what was happening. It wasn’t until a fan or a news reporter/radio host confronted him about it, had realization finally dawned on him. He would be very quick to dismiss that horrible, horrible assumption. And he’d honestly lose respect for the person he was talking to.

◊ If a fan were ever to call you a charity case, he’d definitely get mad. To assume he would start dating you for his reputation...? That’s kind of... fucked up.

◊ If you asked him about it, he would definitely get upset, and honestly a little heart-broken. To assume that he would do something like that... he finds himself doubting if he was a good enough boyfriend.

◊ So let me paint a scenario and hand you the angst.

— Since you would probably have to use Voice-over for your phone, I think something that could happen as a result of it is, as you scroll through websites and articles about Zen through your phone, the phone voices over every single title. And one catches your attention, unfortunately, it also catches Zen’s.

“Zen’s charity case of a partner, S/o-“ he would hear it from the other room, despite it being extremely fast to almost not be able to. E heard, and he would immediately go to you, following the direction of the sound.

He’d find you with your phone off, eerily silent as you waited for him to speak, having been notified by his heavy footsteps. “S/o...” he’d soften his voice and make his way to you, gently seating himself opposite to where you sat, softly yet urgently grabbing your hand as he was afraid you’d storm off, or get mad.

“I swear I would never think that of you. Believe me, okay? Not those stupid articles, half the stuff they say is all made-up— I swear, they act more than me- Mph!?“ he’s all for drama and movies, but this was real life. You were real. And both of your feelings were real too. He rambled on, and before he could finish his rant, you already had your lips on his; to his surprise, and pleasure.

“... I- I know. Thank you, Zen.”

◊ okay but imagine the embarrassment when you turn on Voice-over and Zen sends you this, just, extremely cheesy line and everyone around you could hear it. The fucking humiliation, dude, I feel for you.

— “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Bec-“ with a face flushed a dark red for reasons more than one, you frantically tried to lower the volume. “N- no! Stop, phone stop!” You’d probably ‘accidentally’ destroy one of your phones just to save yourself from the sheer embarrassment.

◊ If Zen were ever to leave the country for a global concert, there would be tons of calls— so many to the point it was like he never left. You would hear his voice through the phone, and it would feel like he was there... though it’s still different.

◊ Something Zen likes to do, that probably irritates you, is scare the shit out of you and sneak up behind you. The fucker would scoop you up from behind, laughing as you shrieked from the top of your lungs. You insist that it’s sadistic, and he— he agrees, with a very, uh, strange look in his eyes.

◊ Zen can be very playful, so as soon as he comes back from a shoot; no matter how tired and exhausted he is, he is always willing to hug you with all the force he has, and it makes you wonder— how? How is this man still so strong after hours of working?

◊ You don’t seem to get the chance to ask as he stuffs your face into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around the middle of your back, so you can’t escape. He wouldn’t hug too long though, because he needs to keep the beast calm; or so he says.

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arteyhumano299 · 3 years

Text

You Keep Me Waitin’

Chapter 1: Feel Better (9k words)

Summary: Kagami and Marinette aren't that close— they’re friendship is relatively new and there's still some unresolved tension. Kagami has just experienced heart break for the first time, and her mother’s expectations are beginning to weigh on her. Marinette’s duties are doing a similar number on her, and painful realizations have also left her heartbroken. They realize they can use each other as an excuse to flee from their troubling lives. In each other they find unexpected comfort, and soon they're closer than either could have expected.

Available on Ao3 , fanfic.net , and Wattpad

Notes:

First fanfic I'm publishing in a while. So I made the creative decisions to make the characters slightly older, around 17,16 ish. It's just cause it makes me uncomfortable to write sexual tension between 14-15 year olds. Also, this fic takes place right after the break ups so like season 4, ep 2. I can't promise consistent updating schedule but I'm committing to this fic. This first chapter is pretty long, I don't have a set words per chapter limit so the chapters might be all over the place. Anyway. Enjoy :)

Kagami feels hollow. She felt hollow as she closed the door of the locker room. She felt hollow as she walked out of Françoise Dupont. She felt hollow as she made her way down the stone steps at the entrance of the collège. The sound of her shoes making contact with the ground made Kagami feel especially hollow —the only sound that rang in her ears. Said shoes carried her to Tatsu's red door. Eyes found the car’s window, Kagami grimaced at her own reflection.

She clutched Tatsu’s handle and swung the backseat door open, hoping to flee from her own eyes. Her head hung low, eyes on her lap, as she closed the door. Slowly, she lifted her head to face the window and the collège’s front gates. She took a deep breath before turning her eyes forward. “Take me home, Tatsu.”

The collège disappeared as Tatsu moved forward. Kagami exhaled. Her hands found their way into her fencing bag and she slowly retrieved her phone from the bundle of clothes and protein bars. She steeled herself as her phone lit up. The screen read 6:09 against a familiar picture Kagami had taken that day at the San Martin Canal. They were seated at the canal’s edge, Adrien’s chin smudged with ice cream and Kagami smiling giddily at having caught this momentary clumsiness. Adrien, oblivious to the desert decorating his face, grinning at the camera and leaning close to her. She pursed her lips as she felt a pang to her chest, and opened settings with a decisive press of the home button. Their twin smiles disappeared from her lock screen, replaced with an old picture of the Eiffel Tower— one she had taken when she’d first arrived in Paris. She’d grown accustomed to it by now, but the large monument had seemed so mystical when she first saw it.

A sense of exhaustion came over her and she let her neck fall backwards. Head falling on the seat’s headrest, the car’s ceiling filled her vision.

Had this been a mistake?

Kagami had always been rational. Her mother valued logic above all, putting her stakes only in what she could hope to benefit from. Mother had taught this principle to Kagami at an early age, and Kagami had taken it to heart. She put a lot of effort into her passions, assured that her work would pay off. She took her future seriously, recognizing that it would reflect all of her present decisions. She didn’t goof off or blow off responsibilities. She did her best to control her sometimes reckless personality. She wasn’t disobedient. And she certainly didn’t waste her time in mindless relationship games. But here she was now. Kagami had gone about dating Adrien the way she did most things: straight to the point, and with a set goal in mind. She had been decisive, and she wasted no time dancing around her feelings, thinking that it would pay off, like all other things had in her life. Sitting alone in a car, heartbroken, had not been the outcome she predicted. Could she have miscalculated?

Somewhere inside herself, she understood that she had been very clear about her feelings, and had worked hard to maintain their relationship– at times, even foolishly bended some of her values just to get closer to him. Adrien had been the one to lie, and had always been more apprehensive with his affection, like he was holding back and holding on at the same time. Right now though, Kagami doubted herself. She’d never been the type to, but maybe while she was blinded by her affections for Adrien, she’d lost herself.

Her mother would be disappointed. Kagami hadn’t exactly told her of their relationship, and thinking of the times she did stuff she would disapprove of just to spend time with Adrien, Kagami wasn’t sure if she wanted to. God.

Kagami had been so eager to get closer to Adrien, and latched on as soon as Adrien began to reciprocate her stares, she had acted foolishly hadn’t she?

Her eyes eventually found the window again, but she regretted it as soon as her eyes laid on the glossy dark waters of the San Martin Canal. She saw the green leaves of trees painted on the water’s surface.

Something coiled in her chest.

“Tatsu, stop.”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Kagami pushed the car door open and exited onto the aligned stone slabs of the sidewalk. The door closed behind her, body facing the canal. A breeze swept Kagami’s bangs out of her face, drying the prickle of tears at the edge of her eyes. She walked closer to the canal and peered at her figure reflected on the water, her hands bunched in her skirt. The water was too far away for any of her features to be distinguishable but she stared at her reflection– her head of dark hair a blob dancing on the canal’s ripples. Her fists slowly unclenched and she lowered herself to the canal’s edge.

As her eyes followed the ripple of the water, Kagami wondered if getting overly self conscious about this break up was what was irrational. Obviously most relationships ended, and she couldn't expect her first lover to be her last. A memory of telling ladybug her and Adrien were meant to be crossed Kagami’s mind. She grimaced, cringing at the memory. Kagami had said it with bold certainty, confident that there was something special between them–an understanding she’d never experienced with anyone else. She hoped that maybe… that would be the case, once Adrien was ready he would apologize and realize what she had long ago. He didn’t trust her now though, so what assured her he ever would. Maybe the wound was too fresh to wonder about the future.

Kagami closed her eyes and felt another gust of wind flutter against her eyelids. She stood back up and began to walk along the canal.

As she walked further and further from Tatsu, she began to realize another issue. Was she going to ignore Adrien? She had told him she didn’t want to stay friends. Adrien’s distrust had stung her deeply– she had, after all, put a lot of energy and time into their relationship, and just returning to their old dynamic felt wrong. Were they just supposed to not acknowledge any of the remaining tension?

Adrien hiding stuff from her would sting regardless of their relationship, she cared very deeply for him– friend or lover. Kagami had to remind herself: don’t waste time and energy on fruitless efforts. If Adrien wasn’t gonna let up, Kagami would stop giving him the time of day. The opportunity to hurt her. She felt justified in her harshness, though Adrien was one of the only friends she’d ever had. Kagami began to wonder if any of this would seem ridiculous to someone more understanding and emotionally intelligent– Kagami admitted she felt short in that regard.

She admittedly was too caught up thinking of ways to figure this out to pay much attention to her surroundings. Mid thought, something slammed into her, or rather she slammed into someone. Kagami stumbled backwards, almost losing her footing but catching herself at the last minute. As soon as she regained her balance she looked up at the offended party to apologize. She was met with a familiar pair of blue bell eyes. Before she could muster up a ‘sorry’, Marinette beat her to it.

“Kagami! I’m so sorry! I was distracted and wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Her face was somewhat obstructed by boxes stacked on her arms- which she noticed were now off center.

“I’m sorry too, Marinette; I was also distracted.”

Marinette readjusted the boxes. “No, it was probably more on me. My limbs seem to have a mind of their own, a lot of people have fallen victim to my clumsiness.” Marinette’s face scrunched embarrassment.

“Well you are the one carrying boxes, I just bypassed pedestrian etiquette in my mindless daydreaming.”

Kagami could make out Marinette’s smile even with the obstruction to her face.

“That’s just like you to think getting distracted is a lapse of ‘pedestrian etiquette’.” She chuckled at Marinette’s phrasing of ‘pedestrian etiquette’. Marinette’s eyes peered at her quizzically.

“Are you alone, Kagami?”

“I am.”

That seemed to confuse Marinette as she looked around Kagami.

“I don’t mean to pry, but why are you walking down the San Martin Canal?”

Kagami looked back to the canal’s waters.

“I suppose...”, She tried to find an excuse as she faced Marinette again, " I thought the walk would be some nice, light exercise.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at her.

“Right after fencing? Shouldn’t you be having a meal?”

She was surprised that Marinette had any knowledge in the dietary guidelines of athletes. She’d never mentioned partaking in any active hobby to Kagami.

“I was just trying it out. ''

Marinette still seemed confused but shrugged and didn’t press further. Kagami’s eyes shifted to the boxes Marinette was still carrying.

“And you? Is there a reason you’re walking down a canal with an armful of boxes?”

Marinette seemed to remember what she was holding as her eyes flickered to the packages in front of her.

“Oh, right. I’m just making a delivery for the bakery.”

Kagami was now the one to question her with a raised eyebrow.

“On foot? With that tall of a stack?”

Her expression turned sheepish. “Bad idea in retrospect, considering my clumsiness and all.”

Kagami couldn’t help but smile. “What if I help you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “With my delivery?”

Kagami nodded.

“What about your light exercise?”

“Whether it be going home or making a delivery I’m still walking.”

Marinette’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, uh, guess you’re right.”

She approached Marinette and reached for the top couple of boxes, taking them into her arms and waiting for Marinette to readjust her arms again.

“Okay, it’s only two blocks from here.”

Marinette began to walk and Kagami moved to follow her pace.

“Do you often make deliveries for your parents’ bakery?”

“When they need to be done yeah; it’s my way of helping out.”

Kagami looked at her profile, her pigtails more hastily tied than usual and her cheeks a paler pink than she was used to.

“Have they been keeping you busy?”

“Ah, no more than usual.”

Marinette met her eyes momentarily and Kagami wondered if those were eyebags under her eyes.

“They try not to be too demanding.”

“Really?... Have you been testing lately?”

She saw Marinette turn to her and could almost feel her puzzlement.

“Uh, no?...”

Marinette faced the walkway again.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just haven’t heard from you lately.”

There was a pause.

“I’ve just been caught up in some stuff.”

Kagami sensed she didn’t want to elaborate so she kept her questions to herself.

“Well, It’s nice to see you, even in a somewhat odd situation.”

“I’m glad to see you too.”

Her smile became soft.

“I haven’t seen much of you either, but I understand you’ve also been… busy.”

The silence that followed hung for a second too long. Kagami wasn’t sure how she should interpret that— she’d never explicitly told Marinette about her and Adrien, but they hadn’t really hid their affection. “I…” Kagami sighed. “Yeah, I have been distracted with other… stuff.”

The silence continued and Kagami considered even noting the weather to fill it. Before she could stew in the silence any longer, Marinette cut through it with a boldness she wasn’t accustomed to seeing from her.

“How are things with Adrien?”

Kagami suddenly felt very insecure and the packages of pastries in her arms felt heavier.

“We weren’t very subtle were we?”

Marinette considered her question.

“You two have been getting pretty chummy for a while.”

“... I can see what you mean.”

“You know, it’s okay. I just really hope you don’t drop me, so you guys better not stop hanging out with me.”

Marinette’s attempt at lightening the mood was stunted by the tension. Kagami was too preoccupied with finding the right response to care.

“Well, of course, I wouldn’t abandon our relationship for Adrien.”

Kagami was too consumed in her nerves to notice the change in tone of Marinette’s silence.

“You don’t have to worry about my schedule being full though.”

Marinette laughed.

“Kagami, it’s natural for couples to spend a lot of time together, you don’t have to make time you don’t have for me. Don’t worry, I have other people I can get orange juice with.” She swallowed.

“I don’t doubt you do.”

They approached a crossroad and Marinette turned, Kagami following after her. She let it out before she decided against it.

“What I meant to say, is that you don’t have to worry about my schedule being full anymore.”

Marinette stopped abruptly but Kagami expected it. Her expression was hard to decipher.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that”, Kagami stepped closer to her. “Adrien’s no longer going to be taking up my time.”

Marinette’s eyebrows slowly furrowed, she searched her face and Kagami hoped Marinette couldn’t make out her insecurity.

“You…”

“We did.”

She faced forward once again. “It’s been the case for all of a half an hour.”

“Oh, God, Kagami, I’m so sorry.”

Kagami turned to shoot her a frown. Marinette shut her mouth before she could begin her rambling. She might not be feeling like herself but she still wasn’t below taking her pity.

“Obviously I’m still processing but quite honestly, the break up actually happened last night.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t need to see him until our next fencing lesson so I’ll have time to figure something out.”

They finally continued to walk.

“I mean, I bet Adrien will make an effort to keep things friendly.”

“That’s exactly what I fear.”

“What do you mean?”

Kagami kept her eyes forward. “I’m not planning on keeping our relationship as friendly as it was before.”

She hoped she didn’t sound bitter.

“That bad, huh?”

“Adrien made his decisions so I made mine.”

Kagami definitely sounded bitter.

“Well, then I guess you should start making time for another juice date.”

Marinette’s smile felt reassuring. She slowed down and stopped in front of a pair of glass doors. Kagami could make out a lobby from the large windows on either side.

“We’re here by the way.”

Kagami went ahead and opened one of the doors, holding it for Marinette who had the taller stack of boxes. Marinette allowed her act of chivalry and entered, Kagami following behind her. She looked around the lobby as Marinette advanced to the front desk, eyeing the cushions taking up most of the room, and wondering who had thought buying several loveseats for such a small lobby was a good idea. Marinette returned before Kagami could criticize the internal design further.

“Okay, we should be able to just go up and knock on the door.”

They made their way to the elevator and Marinette pressed the button to the fourth floor. They stood in silence for a few seconds.

“It wasn’t just me that noticed the disgusting orange loveseats was it?” Kagami smirked “I also noticed their incompatibility with the room, though I was more worried with the amount of floor plan they took up.” Marinette scoffed, “More like incompatibility with my eyes.”

This time Kagami actually laughed. The elevator doors opened and they made their way into a hallway lined with numbered doors.

“Okay, I think it was apartment 127.”

They scanned the doors until finding it: apartment 127. Kagami knocked and they waited for an answer. Kagami could hear the muted sound of rock music and laughter. Finally, the door’s handle shook and the door swung open. A short woman with brown hair dyed red stood at the entrance, her eyes taking them and their armful of boxes in.

“Oh, the pastries are here!” The woman pushed the door open further, and turned her head to the apartment.

“Arthur! Come help me with the pastries.” The woman turned back to them “Sorry, lovelies, I’ll get those off ya in a sec.” A man poked his head before joining the four of them at the entrance. He was significantly taller than the woman but had the same red hair.

“Those smell good”, he grinned.

“I can assure they taste just as good”, Marinette responded, sugar sweet, in what Kagami guessed was her customer service voice. The woman and man reached out and took the boxes from them and Kagami was glad to have the weight off her arms. She stretched them out as the woman looked through her wallet and placed some bills in Marinette’s hands. “Thank you, have a nice day, ma’am.”

“Have a nice day too, ladies.”

Marinette smiled at them as they closed the door. Then she also stretched her arms with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”

They entered the elevator, returned to the lobby, and then exited the apartment complex.

Marinette turned to her. “Thank you so much, Kagami, people don’t tend to order so much so it was probably for the best I ran into you.”

“It wasn’t a bother,” she could feel the smile on her lips, “It was also nice to catch up with you.”

Marinette grinned at her. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at another time. You should probably call Tatsu, you’ve had enough exercise for today.”

“Oh, are you my trainer, Marinette?”

“I’m your friend, so I’m more important.”

Kagami couldn’t argue with that. An idea popped into her brain and she pursed her lips.

“Let me walk you home, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked at her.

“Walk me home?”

“Yes.” She nodded awkwardly, “Walk you home.”

“Shouldn't you be home by now?”

That made Kagami pause— it was true her mother would figure out her absence pretty soon.

“It’s fine, I’ll just text my mother.”

“But you must be tired, I really wasn’t kidding about the exercise thing.”

Kagami disliked when people coddled her, but Marinette’s worry did actually make her feel cared for.

“I’ll be fine, Marinette, I always make sure to carry extra protein bars in my bag.”

Kagami paused and furrowed her brows. “That is unless you’d rather walk home alone, I’m sorry if my request was brash.”

Marinette shook her hands. “No, no, I just didn’t want you to over exert yourself. I know you always give it your all at your fencing practices.”

While Kagami had had a tiring day, Marinette’s company has helped both the ache of her muscles and her chest.

“I’m not that tired, besides,” Kagami moved to stand beside her, “we haven’t talked about our juice date.” She was rewarded with a bright smile.

“Okay, fine, if you’re sure.” Marinette began to walk and Kagami was right beside her.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask you where in the world you found a red lamé?”

“Well, Marinette, I pride myself in my dedication.”

They fell into step with each other, letting the conversation flow naturally. As they made their way through the streets of Paris, Kagami listened intently to Marinette’s rambling about old fabric dyeing techniques she’d been looking into. They finally found their way to Marinette’s doorstep and they waved each other goodbye.

She was aware she might return home to a lecture, but as Kagami saw Marinette enter her home, she recognized she felt better.

--------

Marinette rested her back on a chimney, her eyes raking over the other rooftops, waiting for an unexpected attack to pop out of them at any second. Chat was similarly seated next to her, though he didn’t seem quite as on edge as Marinette felt.

Now that the duo had to worry about Shadow Moth, Marinette felt like she was on edge as soon as she transformed. Chat sensed her unease, and regularly attempted to ease her tension with a lighthearted joke. Marinette appreciated his efforts, but she also didn’t want to be distracted —just in case.

She drummed her fingers on her lap and wondered if maybe they should move to a higher vantage point. Maybe they should start making their patrols more active, circling the whole city instead of just moving to a few locations and watching. If there was going to be an akumatization tonight, Marinette hoped it would appear already. Now that she had a gaggle of kwamis to look after, Marinette’s responsibilities seemed to have doubled. She really couldn’t slack off in her schoolwork, or her duties as class rep, or her obligations to the bakery— she knew wedding season was coming up so her parents were going to really need her help. That wasn’t even mentioning all of the personal issues Marinette didn’t know how to tackle. She seemed to have been able to keep a low radar so far, but any second now her friends would figure out the earlier day’s events.

Marinette really didn’t want to think about Juleka’s reaction.

Marinette’s thrumming speed up.

Chat must have seen the anxious twitch of her fingers. “You know, it’s getting late, there probably won’t be any trouble tonight.”

Her eyes flickered to the blonde. “We haven’t checked the south-eastern side of the city.”

“I can go check on my way home.”

Marinette thought about protesting, but she could make out the worry etched onto the line of his eyebrows. His mop of hair caught her eye, messier than she was usd to— almost like it was drooping. She wondered if she wasn’t the only one having a hard time.

“You go to school so you should probably get home and rest.”

“You also go to school”, Marinette noted.

Chat’s replying chuckle felt empty.

“I’m not going to be sleeping anytime soon .” Marinette hoped it wasn’t defeat what she heard in his voice. She regarded his usually vibrant eyes, now dulled with an exhaustion Marinette could recognize.

“You too huh?”

Chat broke eye contact to look out at the Paris scenery. Marinette did the same, gazing at the endless darkness of the sky.

“It’s been a hard week.”

She could only hum in agreement.

Her suit protected her from the cold, but Marinette’s face felt icy in the night’s dropping temperature.

“Is it a personal problem?”

“Well, I think Shadow Moth has both of us on edge, but mostly yeah.”

Chat fiddled with the cuffs of his gloves. She’d always been a proponent of keeping everything private, only revealing what was necessary, but something about Chat’s frown bothered Marinette.

“I can listen.”

Chat’s head shot up, his expression one of surprise. Marinette tried to convey comfort through her own expression. “Really?”

“As long as you keep it vague. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

His responding smile was small, but Marinette was glad for it nonetheless.

“Well, um, okay.”

Marinette relaxed against the chimney and Chat changed his posture to face her more.

“I started seeing someone recently.”

Marinette’s eyes widened but she kept quiet.

“We were friends beforehand and I realized I liked her, so I thought it would be a good idea.” Chat exhaled. “I’m Chat Noir though, so we couldn’t keep it up.”

Understanding washed over her.

“She was pretty upset, and now… she told me she no longer wanted to have any type of relationship.”

Chat’s eyes stared at the ground(rooftop rather.) Marinette reached for him without thinking. Chat looked at the hand she placed on his shoulder, and then at her. His eyes told her he received the message:

I understand

She leaned in and hugged him. They sat like that for a few seconds, enjoying each other’s warmth, before they separated.

“I think you’re right. We should go home.”

Chat nodded and they both stood up, still facing each other.

“Chat… I know we can’t exactly hang out, but you’re my friend, so if you need anything...”

Chat nodded.

“Thank you, ladybug.”

They shared a smile before going their separate ways.

--------

Marinette was later than usual. The classroom’s tone felt different than yesterday, and Marinette read it immediately. She apologized and took her seat, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. She could feel Alya’s on her all hour though, but she kept her eyes forward. All of her attention was focused on Mme. Bustier, Marinette throwing herself into the coursework to try and ignore the impending questions. The scratch of graphite on paper worked as a background to Mme. Bustier’s voice, and it did a good job at keeping Marinette’s mind occupied with work.

So much so that Marinette almost didn’t hear the bell.

She stared through the paper in front of her, her fingers tightening around the pencil in her hand. She could feel more eyes on her now.

Recognizing that she could no longer ignore Alya, Marinette picked herself up from her hunched posture and turned to her. Like she predicted, Alya was looking right at her. She didn’t attempt to decode the emotions in the hazel of Alya’s eyes.

She stood up and Marinette knew to follow. Mylène, Rose, Alix, and Juleka were behind them as they made their way out of the classroom. Alya stopped next to a bench and sent Marinette a look, communicating to her that she should sit down. Marinette complied. She studied Alya’s face, and Marinette disliked that the tension in it looked more like worry than displeasure— Marinette didn’t want to lie to Alya when she was looking at her with concern. Alya sighed and she sat beside her, the other girls sitting around them. Marinette thrummed her fingers, waiting for Alya’s words.

She directed them at Alix though.

“Alix, would you like to tell Marinette what you told me?”

Alix met eyes with Marinette before facing Alya. “Recently I heard something from Mylène about Marinette.”

She blew a bubble with her bubblegum and it’s pop unsettled Marinette.

“I think she knows what I’m talking about.”

Marinette sighed before rubbing her arms self consciously. She looked around at their faces— they were waiting for her but Marinette didn’t know what to tell them. She remembered the walk she’d had with Kagami some days ago. Kagami had noticed her exhaustion so soon, she could only wonder how long it must have taken her best friend.

“Do you not want to tell us what happened?”

“Um, no, no, I just… It’s just complicated, I’m not sure I’m even done processing what happened.”

Alya placed a hand on her shoulder. They all understood.

“I, well. I’ll tell you.”

Marinette took a deep breath and tried to work out what parts she had to modify.

“You guys know I’ve had feelings for Adrien all year. For months I’ve had this giant crush on him.” He heard some hums of agreement.

“These past few months I’ve actually begun to talk to him, and for a while now we’ve been friends. Somewhere during that time, I started to get to know different sides of Adrien, and my feelings deepened. I began to think that maybe he could actually like me back. I felt like we were finally connecting... But I think I’ve slowly come to realize that Adrien doesn't think about me like that.” Marinette could hear her voice lowering so she coughed and looked up. “I had to come to terms that Adrien liked someone else, loved someone else.” She tried not to think about Kagami’s words.

“Luka, he was always so sweet. With Adrien, I felt like this spluttering blubbering mess.” She sighed. “No wonder he didn’t like me back, all of my clumsiness gets turned up to a hundred around him. Even once my stuttering calmed down somewhat as we became closer, I feel like a mess around him even now.”

Alya scoffed like she’d been the one to be insulted.

“Marinette, you’re so incredibly smart and clever. You’re also kind and you don’t hesitate to help others. If Adrien hasn’t realized that yet then that’s not your fault.” She tried not to think about how Adrien was all of those things, but more. Or how Kagami was also all of those things, but yet they still…

Marinette didn’t let herself dwell on it.

“That’s something Luka would have told me.”

Alya fell silent.

“Luka made me feel like I could just be. It was easy to talk to him, and when he told me he had feelings for me… I felt like maybe we could work.”

Her eyes flickered to Juleka, but her expression hadn’t changed much.

“My feelings for Adrien were hard to ignore though. I think Luka could tell.”

“I really did like Luka. I just, I feel like I got him caught up in my emotional mess and hurt him.”

Marinette stopped thrumming her fingers and dug them into the fabric of her pants. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I’ve been busy and I haven’t been able to reflect on the break up yet.” Marinette looked around all of them, their faces sympathetic.

Rose stood up and wrapped her arms around Marinette. She pulled back and Marinette could see tears rimming her eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize to us, Marinette.”

“Yeah, it sounds like you’ve been having a rough time”, Mylène piped up.

Alya’s hand slid from her shoulder to her back. Marinette appreciated the act of comfort.

“Thank you guys, for being understanding. I just need some time.”

“Of course, Mari, just tell us if you need some hang out buddies to turn your brain off with.” Alix didn’t join them in their huddle around the bench, but her smile was softer than her usual smirk.

“Of course”, Marinette grinned, she could feel the mood lifting. “If any of you would like to get your butts kicked in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, you know who you can call.”

Rose and Mylène giggled, parting from Marinette so she could look up at them better. Marinette couldn’t tell them everything but she genuinely felt her mood lift.

The bell rang.

Marinette felt like now she could scratch that off her list of things to worry about.

She was about to stand up as the other girls smiled and made their way back when she turned to Alya. She was staring at her intensely, like she was analyzing Marinette.

“Uh, Alya? We should make our way back.”

Alya continued to stare at Marinette. Marinette swallowed and clutched the edge of the bench. Finally, Alya crossed her arms and stood up. She didn’t move to make their way back though.

“Alya, we’re going to be late.”

“You’re still hiding something.”

Marinette’s mouth shut. Alya just continued to bore holes through her.

“H-Hiding something?”

“Luka knew you were in love with Adrien since before. He would have been fine with waiting for you to get over him.”

“But I couldn't, okay. I was hurting him and we couldn’t-”

“Marinette, I’m your best friend, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Marinette wanted to say she couldn’t actually. She bunched her fist in her jacket instead.

“If this is about me not being the one to tell you, I already apologized. I really am sorry, but I just wasn't in the right headspace.”

“When you’re not in the right headspace your emotions tend to spill over. You’re not the type to stew in your feelings.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her, annoyed at how factual she’d made it sound.

“Don’t act like you know everything about me, Alya.”

Alya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Marinette swallowed.

“I mean…” She sighed.

“Again, I’m not in the right headspace. Let’s just go to class.” Marinette left and didn’t look back to see if Alya followed.

--------

After class, Marinette shot some smiles at the girls. She apologized to Alya but she could tell she wanted to press further. She left before Alya could protest.

Marinette entered the bakery and greeted her parents, masking her mood with a bright smile.

“Hey Maman, hey Papa.”

“Hello, sweet buns. How was your day?”

Marinette circled the counter and joined them behind it.

“It was alright. Mme. Mendeleive started rambling about this guy called Louis Le Prince near the end of class. It was hard to follow but apparently he invented the camera before Eddison.”

Her mom smiled fondly at her.

“I didn’t know that. I hope that means she didn’t assign you any homework.”

They smirked at each other.

“You’d be right, Maman.”

Marinette didn’t say she was slightly disappointed about it. Her mind needed a distraction. And almost like she’d read her mind, her mother perked up, her expression somewhat sheepish.

“Would you be a dear and help us out with an order for waffle cookies. Me and papa are working on decorating a wedding cake.”

Marinette grinned at her mother.

“Of course, Maman.”

Her mother informed her of the specifics for the order before making her way back to her husband.

Marinette set her bag down on a corner and rolled up her sleeves, plugging in her headphones before reaching for the bottles of ingredients and bowls she would need. She scrolled through her Jagged Stone playlist as she plugged in the waffle iron, once finally settling on an album, stuffing her phone in her back pocket as she found her way back to the table. Marinette tried to get lost in the mindless task of measuring and mixing, making sure to be very meticulous so her mind could only focus on teaspoons of vanilla and cups of flour. These tasks were second nature to her anyway though, so eventually her mind wandered.

Marinette hoped that she’d be able to smooth things over with Alya tomorrow, but she knew how stubborn she could be— Alya wouldn’t stop questioning Marinette. Marinette was so tired of the lies. She’d been lying to Alya almost the entirety of their friendship, and Marinette hated that she was getting better at it. She could just continue to lie to her, it was probably what she would end up doing, but what if Marinette didn’t? What if she just told her the truth.

Marinette fumbled with the mixer before pouring her mixture of ingredients onto the mixing bowl. The sound of the mixer competed with the loud music of her headphones, but more thoughts kept crawling into her mind.

Marinette would admit that at times she wished she didn’t have to. It would be so nice to confide in someone who understood what being a highschooler was like, and who also had some experience with the whole superhero thing. The danger was obvious though. She’d be putting Alya’s security at risk, and hers as well of course. So much was at stake so she couldn’t even entertain the thought. That the weight of being Paris’ greatest superhero while being a seventeen year old high schooler was finally dawning on her.

The mixture of ingredients quickly turned into dough, and she began to scoop up balls of it with her fingers, morphing them into walnut sized balls.

How could Marinette be Marinette when she had to be ladybug? She had dreams she was trying to pursue, as well as responsibilities as a student and daughter. However, she also had a duty to Paris to protect its people. The reality was one she couldn’t afford to forget. These days it felt like she had to be ladybug more and more, her persona bleeding into her everyday. Maybe it was all the hiding and lying that was slowly becoming part of her personality.

Her fingers dug into the dough a bit too hard and ended up making a hole through the ball of dough. She sighed at the tiny doughnut in her hands before reshaping it.

Trust was such an important part of relationships but there was no one Marinette could trust with her secret. And as ladybug continued to dominate her life, Marinette felt as if she’d never be able to invest herself fully in one. Marinette couldn’t giver herself whole if she had to hide half of herself.

She began to line the dough balls, checking the waffle iron.

Marinette hoped she’d be allowed to just be her soon enough. She could dedicate all her time to progressing in her aspirations, accomplishing her responsibilities, and maintaining her relationships.

She sprayed the waffle iron with cooking spray.

Leaving ladybug ...meant leaving Chat Noir too though.

Her eyes studied the dots of cooking spray on the iron.

Fingers pressed into the dough as she placed them along the iron. She lowered the lid slowly.

Maybe… just maybe, they’d find each other after.

The smell of the cookies crisping began to waft over her, Marinette leaned against the table, propping her arms on the surface and closing her eyes as she focused on the smell. The kitchen was warm, and she could hear a bit of the tune her Maman was humming through her headphones. Jagged Stone’s guitar began to quiet down.

It could be that they would never see each other again after that.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, knuckles white with flour and fingertips sticky with residue dough. Her left thumb reached for her right hand and she began to fidget with her ring finger. How did Chat’s miraculous look when he wasn’t transformed? Marinette wondered if she’d be able to recognize it. After all, she doubted anyone would be able to recognize her superheroine persona shining through her fumbling civilian identity. Was Chat just as exuberant in real life? Her mind pondered what kind of teenager Chat would be like. He probably had a lot of friends, and he was probably a bit of an attention seeker. Marinette’s face softened. She bet he was insufferably kind. His friends were very lucky, they could enjoy being Chat’s friends without the weight of thousands of people’s lives on their shoulders. If they met without the masks, would they be friends?

She flattened her hands against the table, tracing circles with her fingers on the flour dusting it. The next song on her playlist began to start. The sweet smell of the cookies continued to fill her nose.

Actually…

Marinette sniffed the air.

“Eek-”

She tried to find the timer somewhere, realizing she hadn’t even taken it out. Scrambling to lift the waffle iron lid’s, Marinette bumped into the table, her hip bone knocking against the table’s edge. She yelped and clutched her hip. Too late, Marinette realized the uncapped vanilla extract bottle. She tried to stop its fall but the bottle tumbled and knocked against a bowl before falling on its side. The dark liquid spilled onto the wood immediately, and Marinette panicked as it pooled around bowls.

“Marinette?”

She only responded with a strained chuckle as she lifted the bottle off the table and regarded the pool of vanilla. “Sorry, I just spilled some extract.”

Her mother glanced from the wedding cake.

“Oh, honey, clean it up before it stains too badly.”

Marinette nodded and rushed to find some paper towels to absorb the extract. She pushed the bowls out of the way and pressed the paper towels onto the table, the white paper quickly turning dark even as the pool of liquid disappeared. Her eyes scanned the room for a rag as she replaced the paper towels. Her hands reached for the nearest one and took it, scrubbing at the surface, praying that the stain would lighten if she placed it next to a window. Suddenly, Marinette remembered what her original plan was as the air turned bitter. Her hands fumbled to open the waffle iron, revealing the now overly brown cookies. She plucked them off the iron and placed them on a cooling rack. As she reached for the last one, her pinky brushed against the hot metal and she hissed, biting her lip and scowling as she rubbed at the burn.

“Today is not my day”, Marinette mumbled.

Her mother shot a glance in her direction again, her brows painted with concern. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Maman, just a little burn.” Marinette sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

She left her parents in the bakery, climbing the stairs to her home. She pushed the door open with her body and found her way into the bathroom. Marinette opened the faucet and slid her red pinky over the cool water. The change in temperature helped the pain and she exhaled deeply.

Her eyes found her reflection on the mirror and she couldn’t help but scowl. She’d been donning a ‘finals week’ kinda tired on her face– cheeks pale, eyebags deep, and pigtails almost coming undone– but now she also had flour dusting it. She couldn’t wait for this week to end. It was still the middle of the week though, so Marinette guessed she’d need to work extra hard to make it speed by. Her other hand found the faucet and closed it. The towel bothered her skin as she toweled her hands dry, but she hoped it would calm down soon enough. She made her way out of the bathroom, and turned to the kitchen. Swinging the cooler open and scanning its interior, Marinette took a napkin and plucked an ice cube off the ice rack. She closed the cooler before swinging her body onto the counter— her Maman wasn’t here so no one had to know.

The ice was a bit harsh on the burn, but Marinette was looking to numb the pain so she pressed tightly against her pinky. A quiet chuckle passed through her lips. It’d be neat if she could have some numbing ice for other aspects of herself. As she jokingly wondered how that’d work, she realized her mother was calling out to her.

“Marinette!”

She blinked at her Maman’s voice but made her way to the stairs, poking her head down to the bakery.

“Yes, Maman?” Her mother appeared from around the corner.

“There’s a girl here asking for you, honey.”

Panic rose up her throat. Was it Alya? Marinette wasn’t ready to confront her, and she needed time to come up with something to feed to her.

“She brought you some orange juice.”

Marinette frowned at her mother. Orange juice?

Tension left her face.

Her Maman knew Alya pretty well, so Marinette supposed it’d be weird of her not to just tell her it was Alya. Making her ways down the steps, Marinette looked around the bakery. A blue bob and white jacket was the first thing she registered.

“Kagami?”

The girl was standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the counter, two plastic cups in her hands.

“Good afternoon, Marinette.” Kagami’s greeting smile was stiff on her face.

“Hey, Kagami.” Marinette responded simply, she walked towards her, and weaved around the counter. She swept her hand over her cheeks.

“Sorry I was just baking.”

“You look fine, Marinette.”

“Really? I remember a few days ago you mentioned I looked pretty bad.”

“Well, you do look tired.”

Marinette shook her head. “I can’t argue with you on that.”

The logo on the plastic cups Kagami was carrying was familiar.

“So did you just drop by to give me orange juice?”

Kagami brought the cups up to her chest. “Well”, Kagami shifted her weight from one foot onto the other, “I was hoping you’d have some with me.”

“Oh”

“Then in that case.” Marinette turned to her parents, who were probably already listening,

“Can I finish the cookies later?”

“Sure, honey, just cover the dough up.”

Marinette nodded and signaled Kagami to follow her. They walked past the counter and into the actual bakery, Marinette took some wide plates and lined the dough balls on them. She took some seran wrap and covered them, setting them off to the side. She swept her hands together to shake off any remaining flour and turned to Kagami.

“Okay, follow me.”

She led her around the corner and to the stairs. Kagami glanced around.

“So this is what leads to your actual home?”

She followed Marinette up the steps.

“Yep. The first floor is just the bakery.”

She pushed the door open and moved to let Kagami in first. Kagami took her home in. The white couch decorated with throw pillows; the kitchen with their bright blue refrigerator; the three windows spilling sunlight through grey curtains. Marinette closed the door behind them. Kagami stepped into the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the fridge. Marinette joined her.

“Weird color for a home appliance, right?”

Kagami glanced back at her, but reached her hands up to a photo on the cooler’s door, her fingertips grazing it.

“Is this a relative of yours?”

Marinette glanced at what she was looking at. The photo was a few years old, Marinette was sprawled out on the couch that was currently right behind them. A teenage boy leaning on said couch was teasing Marinette with a feather. Her face was scrunched up as said boy tickled it with the feather. They were both grinning though.

“Oh.” Marinette smiled at the picture. “That’s my older brother actually.”

Kagami’s brow questioned her, surprise evident on her face. “I wasn’t aware you had a brother.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t talk about him enough. His name is Anthony.”

“Does he live here?”

“Oh, no, he’s studying abroad right now. He wasn’t able to come during Christmas but he’ll be here during the summer.”

Kagami seemed to mull over this information. She kept her eyes on the photo. “What was it like?” Marinette looked at her quizzically. “ Growing up with a sibling, I mean”, She clarified.

Marinette snorted. “Annoying, no one else knows how to tick you off like a sibling.” She wiggled her fingers as she presented the picture. “Exhibit here.”

“Really? I don’t know if that sound… enjoyable.”

“Pfft, well growing up with siblings is definitely pretty bothersome.” Marinette nodded at her own comment. “Sometimes it's funny but being so close to someone before gaining any sense of maturity comes with annoying downfalls.”

“People have told me it’s sad I don’t have any siblings though.”

Marinette couldn’t read Kagami’s expression.

“That’s kinda rude of them.”

Kagami smiled at her response.

“I’ve always thought so too.” She set the orange juice on the nearest surface. “But I guess I wonder if siblings are worth all of their hype.”

Marinette thought about her brother. It’d been a while since he’d last seen him, and she’d never admit to it to him, but sometimes his absence made her home feel empty.

“It’s also really nice, having someone to grow up with. I get why they might have said that.” She shrugged. “It’s a unique bond.”

“So do you miss you brother?”

“Ugh, well it’s a pain to admit but yeah.”

Kagami smirked in amusement. Marinette reached for the orange juice Kagami had brought. “I didn’t know they had such cute to go cups.” Kagami took the other cup and followed Marinette as she made her way to the counter in the kitchen, each of them taking a seat.

“You're the type to always notice design.” It wasn't a question.

“Well I might specialize in fashion designing, but if something is cute then I’ll notice.” Marinette brought the straw up to her mouth. The orange juice was refreshing and Marinette humed against the straw in contentment. Kagami smiled at her drink as well.

“I love orange juice, but is there a specific reason you’re here?”

Kagami parted her mouth from the juice and shrugged. “I suppose we never actually set a date for that orange juice date.”

“Hmm, are you maybe trying to make time up with me?”

“Well I did want to see you.”

“I’m flattered by your honesty. But I bet you also wanted to see what a bakery-home was like.”

Kagami looked around the room again instead of responding.

“Your house is so small.”

“Oh, gee, I know it's no mansion.”

“No, I didn’t mean it in a degrading way.” Kagami’s eyes flitted to a particular tiger shaped pillow on the coach. It was an old comfort toy of Marinette. “It’s homely, and warm.”

“Well it is right above a bakery”, Marinette pointed out.

“It does smell of baked goods.”

“Come on Sunday mornings. Last week I woke up to lemon-berry savarin and palmier pastries.”

“Should I come every Sunday to guess the pastry of the week?”

“You're invited to taste it too.”

They both laughed.

“I can’t promise I’d be awake to greet you, Sundays are one of my holy sleeping-in days.”

“I see you value your sleep.”

“You could say that. Like you’ve noticed though, I look like a mess when I don’t get enough of it.” Kagami didn’t respond for a second.

“So you haven’t been getting much sleep?”

“Oh, ah”, Marinette laughed awkwardly. “No, spose I haven’t.”

“You have a lot of responsibilities.”

“That I do.” Marinette chewed on the straw of her juice.

“Thank you for coming actually, I’ve been having an off day.”

“Rough week?”

“Pretty much.”

They sat in a comfortable silence as their juice slowly disappeared. Marinette noted that Kagami looked better than she had the last time they’d met. Part of her wanted to ask how that whole thing was going for her, but did she actually want to know?

“So”, Kagami broke the silence first. “You make deliveries but you also bake?”

“Of course, what kind of baker’s daughter do you take me for?”

“Do your parents expect you to take on the bakery someday?” Marinette opened her mouth but then swallowed.

“They understand I have a dream for designing, but we still haven’t figured it out. They really want to keep the bakery alive.”

“Sorry, it seems like a complicated subject.”

“It is, but it’s okay.” Marinette slurped the last of her orange juice and set her cup down. “It really is okay though, a discussion for the future. Like you said, I have enough on my plate at the moment.” Kagami also finished her drink

“Well I hope the bakery stays open until next Sunday, I want to try the pastry of the week.”

Marinette giggled. “I’ll make sure to make you something special.”

“Do many people get the pleasure of tasting your baking?”

“Some lucky souls out there in Paris.”

“I trust you’re good then.”

“Well I think my baking is plenty tasty, I’m just a clutz.”

“So your clumsiness doesn't interfere with the taste?”

“No, it just endangers my safety, as well as anyone’s in a three meter radius”, Marinette sighed.

“I do read you as accident prone.”

“Don’t laugh but actually I stained the work table with vanilla extract and burned my pinky only a few minutes before you came.”

Kagami’s brows rose in surprise.

“Wow, really?”

“Yep”, Marinette grumbled, lifting her right hand up. It wasn’t so distinct anymore but her finger was still red. Kagami noticed.

“I see, does it still hurt?”

“Not really, I mean it’s not fun getting burned but I have thick skin so it’s okay.”

Kagami paused and looked at her, confused. “Thick skin?”

“I’ve been pricking my fingers with needles for years, scaring has made my skin thicker and less sensitive.”

“Oh, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, sometimes I get quite insecure about it. I don’t think a guy would appreciate holding hands with me. Girls are supposed to have soft skin or whatever.”

“I know what you mean, fencing has made me build my own callouses.”

“Oh that’s right, your fence training must have done a similar number on your hands.”

Kagami nodded holding her palms out on the countertop. “I have a similar insecurity.” Marinette gazed at her hands, she could make out the callouses. She leaned closer to Kagami, placing her left hand on the countertop too.

“May I?”

Kagami’s dark eyes considered her, her bangs almost completely covering her eyebrows— It made it hard at times to decipher her expression— said bangs bounced as Kagami nodded. Marinette moved her eyes from Kagami to her palms. She lifted her left hand, her knuckles grazing the cool countertop as it approached Kagami’s. Their skin touched, marinette’s index finger grazing Kagami’s pinky. Her touch was tentative as she brushed her fingertips over Kagami’s fingers and against the inside of Kagami’s hand. It was unexpectedly cool. Just like Kagami had said, the skin along her palm’s crease was distinctly tough and one could only wonder the years of training needed to result in such callouses. She studied Kagami’s hand. Her palm was more plush than her own, but her fingers were bonier, and they also had a yellow undertone that darkened around the edges of her hands and turned into the warm color of the rest of her body. Marinette found this information oddly fascinating.

Her eyes flitted to Kagami’s face. Her gaze was on Marinette’s fingers, and Marinette realized that she was caressing Kagami’s palm. She flushed and retracted her hand, drumming her fingers on the countertop.

“Um, your hands are pretty nice actually.”

Kagami’s hands curled into loose fists.

“They aren’t soft though.”

“No, but anyone can tell that your skin’s texture is the product of hours of hard work.”

Kagami didn’t respond, but Marinette could make out a whisper of a smile on her lips.

“They, uh, they’re cool too.. Nice and cool.” Marinette swallowed, embarrassed she’d actually said that. Kagami blinked at her and Marinette hoped she hadn’t made it weird.

“Your’s are warm.”

Marinette stopped her drumming.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Baker’s daughter thing again?”

Marinette chuckled and looked at her own hands now. “Yep, exactly.” She ran her right thumb along the base of her left thumb. Her skin had more of a pink undertone which she knew she’d inherited from her papa. Marinette wondered if both of Kagami’s parents had warm undertones. She glimpsed in Kagami’s direction. Her eyes were on the countertop, somewhat hidden behind her bangs. Marinette realized how little she actually knew of Kagami. They hadn’t been friends for that long so maybe that was obvious. Was it one of those rich kid-strict parents thing?

A ringing broke her train of thought. Kagami sat up and reached for her pocket, hastily pulling her phone out. A frown pulled on her lips.

“Everything alright? Is your mom calling?”

“Just a text. She wants me to come home now/”

“Oh, do you need to be somewhere?”

“No, it’s just past the time I told her It’d be here.”

“Why does she need you home then?”

“She doesn't, she just doesn't like it when I don’t stick to my plans.” Kagami returned her phone to her pocket, she could make out her exasperation through her movements.

“You need to leave then.”

“I do. I’ve intruded long enough anyways.”

“Of course you haven’t. But I’ll walk you out.”

Marinette stood up and Kagami followed. They made their way back to the bakery. Kagami nodded her head at her parents, a small bow of her head. “Thank you for letting me come into your home, M. and Mme.Dupain-Cheng.”

“You're always welcome -”

“Kagami”, Marinette offered.

“You're always welcome, Kagami. Have a good night, sweetheart.”

“And you as well.”

They exited the bakery, Tatsu already waiting for her.

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Feel free to come again.”

“I enjoyed talking with you.” Kagami’s smile was warm, her statement genuine.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

Marinette could feel her own smile on her face. She waved as Kagami entered the car and drove off. It was evening by now.

Marinette stood in front of her home. She felt better.

A/N:

It's been a while since I last saw some of the episodes so if anything seems off let me know. I don't know if Anthony will make an appearance but I love the Brother AU so I'm including it. Feedback is appreciated, especially since I don't have any beta readers, point out any mistakes please. -Rey :D

#Marigami #Kagaminette #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette #Kagami Tsurugi #Kagami #mlb #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #you keep me waitin’#ykmw

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twistedtummies2 · 3 years

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Descending From the Sky - Part 1 (500 Followers Special)

IN CELEBRATION OF 500 FOLLOWERS...! (freezes as someone whispers in my ear) ...Eh? You...say I have 509 now? ...Frick. WELL, BETTER LATE THAN NEVER! Something a lot of people have wanted me to write - on this site as well as an alternate site I frequent - is a “rampage story.” You know the type: macro-sized predator goes stomping around eating people and causing destruction in their wake. I have several ideas for such tales, though most of them are still in the “pre-production” stages. I decided to go with the one that could offer me the clearest possible plot, and which I know a few people were hoping to see: this is the third chapter in my Giant AU for My Hero Academia, based on Jack and the Beanstalk. In the past two sections, Midoriya and Kaminari went up to see the Giants. THIS time, however, one of the giants comes down to Earth themselves. I mustn’t say more though, or I shall spoil the fun. This is a two-parter; part two will be up tomorrow. As is typical, this first section is mostly just expository stuff and...well...actual STORY than anything else. Most of the “fun stuff” will be in tomorrow’s second half. Keeping this in mind, I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for the support!

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Three months had passed since Izuku Midoriya and Denki Kaminari had descended from the beanstalk with the Golden Eggs.

The result of their fortunate adventures were plainly visible: the farm where they both lived had become far more prosperous. The fields had been able to widen, as their master, Aizawa, had been able to hire new farmhands, buy new equipment, and even purchase a new cow for milking! (Although Izuku couldn’t help but notice how much whiter Milky White’s output had always been.) The farmhouse had been repaired, and plans were in motion to construct a larger building, all while a second barn was being built to house all the new supplies. Over all of this rising splendor towered the magnificent beanstalk...and on the unusually hot morning where our story begins, the boys were very glad about that. Kaminari sighed as he paused in his work, wiping his brow with a spotted handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. Though the boys could afford nice clothes, they usually wore their old peasant garb while working After all, there was no point in ruining the good stuff. “Y’know something, Midoriya?” he mumbled out, looking up. Midoriya paused, putting down his hammer and looking down at Kaminari. His expression was wide-eyed and attentive. Kaminari huffed, leaning against the side of the shed the two were in the process of building. “Life doesn’t make sense sometimes.” “Yeah, that’s a fact,” Midoriya said, with a small smile, and chuckled, turning his freckled face back towards his work. He was standing on a ladder and tapping nails into place to hold the roof boards. Kaminari was holding the nails in a jar, and passing them up, and was supposed to be holding the ladder. In that moment, however, the distracted blonde was more focused on the jar, biting his lip as he stirred the nails boredly. The pair had been alternating positions every couple of boards, since, obviously, it was a lot more work to hammer than to hold. Not that the heat made either of the stations particularly fun. Kaminari tried to get a bit of shade from the side of the shed, but as the Sun was facing in the wrong direction, there was no shade to be had. “What I mean is,” Denki went on, “I thought all this extra stuff would make our lives easier: a little less of a workload on us. Instead, it feels like we haven’t a chance to just...you know...breathe.” “I know,” Midoriya murmured, pausing in his work and dipping his head. “Nor a chance to visit our friends ‘upstairs.’” “Friend. Singular,” Kaminari corrected. “Unless you count that mean man-eater as a friend…” Both of the teens shuddered, and Kaminari even crossed himself. Midoriya shook his head and refocused on hammering as Kaminari passed up another nail, and made sure to grab hold of the ladder with one hand. He didn’t want Midoriya to fall over. For one thing, it would be kind of embarrassing if either of them broke an arm falling from a ladder after managing to climb up and down a mammoth beanstalk and never tumble once.

“Mr. Aizawa says that after this is built, we should be able to rest a bit,” Midoriya said, with a bright-eyed smile that made his green irises look like emeralds. “Maybe we’ll get to go back up there in a couple weeks.”

“Maybe,” murmured Kaminari, and frowned. “Hey, do you think he’s giving us extra work to keep us from going up there?” Midoriya frowned and turned carefully on the ladder, looking to the beanstalk, then looking over the farmland...and shook his head again, this time in disagreement. “No,” he answered, and continued hammering; the boards were hard and the nails long. “With everything going on, I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt there. There’s just...so much expansion, with all the buying and selling we’ve been doing…” “I’m glad he let us keep those Golden Eggs!” grinned Kaminari. “They look cool in the bedroom.” Midoriya nodded wordlessly in agreement, and began to descend the ladder. It was Kaminari’s turn to take care of the next few boards-and-nails. “We’ll get back there soon,” he said. “Things just have to get harder before they get easier.” “That’s one way of looking at it,” shrugged Kaminari, giving Midoriya the nail jar as he took the hammer. He bit his lip and looked off to the side. Midoriya tilted his head, concerned by the unhappy expression on his friend’s face. “Hey...something else wrong?” he asked. “Just...when I went up there last time…” Kaminari trailed off...took a breath...and shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, and smiled. “Let’s just get back to work. The faster we finish, the faster we can get inside where it’s cool.” Midoriya looked skeptical, but before he could answer, a voice interrupted the pair… “It’s going to take a little longer than expected to do that.” The boys looked up. The baggy-eyed figure of Aizawa was approaching the pair. The teens stiffened, almost as if standing at attention. “Good morning, Master!” they chorused, as if speaking to a drill sergeant. Aizawa rolled his eyes and made a grumpy sound. He made a lot of those. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. Yet,” he mumbled, then went on a bit more clearly: “I need you two to stop work on the shed today. There’s another job for you both now.” The teens looked at each other, then back to the head farmer. “Um...no offense, sir,” Midoriya spoke up, and sounded sincerely polite and curious as he spoke, “But why not get one of the others to do it?” “Or do it yourself?” suggested Kaminari, in the same tone. Neither sounded defiant, just a little confused. Aizawa crossed his arms and sighed through his nose, looking out over the farmland, watching the new helpers hoe and shovel and rake away… “I have to stay,” he said, simply and strictly. “And as for the rest of the farmhands…” He looked back to the pair somewhat earnestly. “...I trust you both more than most of them.” The two boys practically had stars in their eyes. “You...you trust us?” peeped Midoriya. “Really?” Kaminari gasped. Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he droned, drably. “I trust Mineta more than you both, and he’s a donkey. And I trust my dog more than I trust him.” The pair ducked their heads with nervous, bashful smiles. Kaminari scratched the back of his head, kicking an imaginary pebble, while Midoriya rubbed one arm, trying to look anywhere but into Aizawa’s face. Aizawa rolled his eyes and then cleared his throat. “Ahem...the new help has loaded the wagon with produce to take to market,” he informed the pair. “Change clothes and hitch the horse up, then take it all. And this time, PLEASE don’t try to trade anything on the way for Magic Beans. One big green liability is enough.” He looked to Midoriya pointedly with those words. Midoriya gulped guiltily. “We’ll do our best, Master,” Kaminari promised, and slung an arm around Midoriya as he gave a cocky grin. “Just leave it to us! We’ll come back with more money than you can shake a stick at! Although I don’t know why you’d want to…” Aizawa just made another grumpy sort of sound and paused before going on… “Mind your way through the forest. Don’t stray from the path. Keep the cart moving on its course: some of the new boys have said they’ve encountered robbers in the woods, ever since…” He pointed up towards the clouds indicatively. “We’ll be careful, Mr. Aizawa,” vowed Midoriya, then looked to Kaminari. “C’mon, let’s get moving!” The duo folded up the ladder, and darted off to put away their tools before getting ready for the journey to market. Aizawa watched them go, then looked back to the partially finished shed, then turned his gaze heavenward. He glared as he looked at the top of the beanstalk...or, at least, the furthest point he could see, as it disappeared beyond the blue sky’s crest. He shook his head and pinched his brow as he walked off to see about feeding the chickens. “This place has never been the same,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I could decide if that was good or bad…”

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Meanwhile, in the Land of the Giants… “Sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” The red-haired, fang-toothed giant known as Kirishima looked with concern to his friend. His fellow titan, Bakugou, narrowed his own crimson eyes, a sour expression on his face as he lounged on a sofa in their living room. “Hell’s that s’posed to mean?” he sneered. “What do you think’s gonna happen while I’m here?” Kirishima opened his mouth to answer...then closed it again. “...Never mind,” he shrugged, and gave a cheerful smile as he slung the leather backpack over his back. “Anyway, I better get going. Tamaki’s probably gonna get all anxious if I’m late; start thinking if I still wanna be his friend, and so on…” “Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, and took a sip of the coffee he held in his hand. “How come you hang out with that wuss anyway? He’s softer than you are!” “Hey, you can’t pick your friends!” “Yes, you can,” droned Bakugou, boredly. “It’s family. You can’t pick your family.” “That, too.” Bakugou blinked slowly, his expression tremendously dull as he took another drink. “Whatever. It’ll be nice to not have your dumb hair poisoning my vision,” he grumbled. “Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou just grunted, taking yet another drink. He licked his lips thinly as Kirishima tilted his head. “Hey...you certain you’re alright?” “What makes you think I’m not?” “I dunno...just...you’ve been a lot quieter lately. And you haven’t gone down to mess with the little guys in a couple of months. Not that I mind that at all…” He grinned. “Am I rubbing off on you a little, maybe?” “Dream on. I just haven’t had an appetite for ‘em.” “Uh-huh. Sure,” Kirishima mumbled, sounded unconvinced, and gave a smile. “Well...anyway, I’ll be back by tomorrow. Guard the house well!” “The fuck do you mean ‘guard the house well’?!” snapped Bakugou, barking out his annoyance. “DO I LOOK LIKE A DAMN GUARD DOG TO YOU?!” Kirishima sniggered, and responded with a jaunty mock-salute. Whistling merrily, the friendly giant thus left the house. Bakugou growled (ironically sounding VERY much like an angry guard dog), his fingers twitching around his coffee cup as he finished his drink. He stifled a burp in his ballooning cheeks - “HHHMMMRRRLLLRRRPH...grm…” - and swallowed the excess gas back down, thumping his bare chest with a beefy fist before rising to his feet. The Barbarian-garbed colossus then tromped back to the kitchen, cleaning his cup and putting it aside to drain and dry. In truth, there was something on Bakugou’s mind. Something that had been buzzing around in his brain for months, and had become increasingly more annoying. I climbed a beanstalk to the top of the sky...I befriended a giant, was able to hide from another...and I was able to make my whole village happy, and even the king...do you think anyone who’s ‘just meat’ could even think of all that? The giant ground his teeth together, fingers twitching again. “Worthless little runt,” he growled to himself. “What does he know?” The little one Kirishima called “Midoriya” wouldn’t leave his mind. He kept trying to force the small one’s words aside, but the pathetic rat wouldn’t get out of his head. It was starting to drive the titan insane. He’d spent his whole life eating humans. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and all around better than they were. It was the law of the jungle: they were SUPPOSED to fill his belly. It was just their fault they were so small and tasty! That’s how he’d always justified it. That’s how he’d always felt about it. And it wasn’t as if he ate indiscriminately. But now… Someones gotta knock some sense into you, Bakugou! You can’t just eat people, it’s...it’s not right! And if one of my friends is in danger...I’ve got to do whatever I can to help them! No matter what! Bakugou snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. The little vermin had guts. What he wouldn’t give to introduce them to HIS guts... Still...he hadn’t been down to eat in months now...and the truth was, what he’d told Kirishima was true. He just...hadn’t been in the mood to eat little people in a while. It was really starting to piss him off, because this had never happened before. They were his FAVORITE food...so what was holding him back? GRRROOORRRLLLB… Bakugou winced and hissed through his teeth, clapping a hand to his belly. His fingers rubbed over his bare, strong, well-sculpted abs as his stomach gurgled and “brumbled” noisily. So far, all he he’d had that morning was coffee. It seemed his gut was demanding something more substantial. For a moment, the thought of dozens of squirming little morsels flashed in his mind...but he shook that thought away with a toss of his messy blonde locks, and instead relaxed slightly as he stomped towards the icebox. “Something light oughta kill those damn noises,” he muttered coarsely. “Where’d I put those cold cuts…?”

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The wagon full of pumpkins, apples, cucumbers, potatoes, corn, and all sorts of other home-grown delights rattled along the semi-level road that twisted and twined its way through the forest. Kaminari sat beside Midoriya, who held the reins, while an old gray mare hauled the cart along at a steady trot. “Easy there, Chiyo,” Midoriya smiled gently, as the horse huffed softly, ears flicking at a noise from somewhere in the underbrush. “Just a jackrabbit.” “Hopefully,” mumbled Kaminari, then cocked his head to the left. “Say, Midoriya? Do you think we’ll run into that Yagi guy who gave you the Magic Beans?” “I doubt it,” Izuku said wistfully. “I get the feeling that was a one-time deal, or something.” “Hm. Got it,” Kaminari grunted, looking away again, a somewhat pensive, pondering look on his face. Midoriya’s smile faded. “Kaminari...seriously, what’s been bothering you?” “What do you mean?” “You’re thinking. A lot. That’s...very unusual for you.” “Hey. Thinking is dangerous. It can lead to headaches.” Midoriya smirked and chuckled, then paused, pulling the horse to a stop. “Come on,” he said, gently, placing the reins at his side nad putting a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me.” Kaminari squirmed a bit uncomfortably. “We should keep going,” he said, quietly. “Aizawa said there were-” “We’ll be fine. Talk to me. We’re friends, right?” “Right...well, um...it’s just…” Kaminari took a deep breath, and let it out before speaking. “...I’ve felt...really bad ever since I went up the beanstalk.” “Bad as in sick?” “No, just...bad. Emotionally. I really messed things up, and I almost got killed for it. I was being greedy and stubborn and selfish, and...look, I still love money-” “And girls.” “Well, duh, girls are what make life worth living, and money helps there.” Midoriya sighed and rolled his eyes, still smiling. “But seriously,” Kaminari went on, shifting his position so he could look Midoriya in the face, “What I did was wrong and...well...kinda stupid, even for me. I wanna make up for it somehow, just...I don’t really know what to do. And with all the time that’s gone by-” “I forgive you.” Kaminari stopped short. “I forgive you,” Midoriya said, his smile gentle and friendly. “And I know Kirishima forgives you, too. If it makes you feel so bad, we’ll find a way to go up there and see if you can do something more. I wanna go back up there just as much as you do. But work’s gotta come first.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Kaminari sighed...then smirked, and adopted a dramatic pose, pointing forward. “Well...drive on, my good man!” Midoriya snickered at Kaminari’s over-the-top impression of a pompous nobleman. “Yes, My Lord,” he winked, and whipped the reins, clicking and calling out Chiyo’s name. Chiyo let out a soft whinny and began to move forward again. Kaminari paused to adjust his clothes: both he and Midoriya were dressed in sharp-looking coats and breeches, so they could look more presentable at the market. “Yellow and black are good colors,” smirked Kaminari, admiring the golden lining of his jacket. He grinned somewhat sneakily. “Hey, think I’ll impress a few ladies while we’re out?” Midoriya was about to respond...but before he could - and after the pair had only traveled about twenty or thirty yards - Chiyo suddenly let out a sharp cry and came to an equally sharp stop. “Whoa, whoa, girl!” called out Midoriya, and as the horse settled, he and Kaminari frowned and stood up in the wagon to see what was the matter. The pair were surprised by what they saw: a small girl, dressed in a somewhat ratty-looking white dress. She had metallic-colored hair, almost the color of steel, and red eyes that looked like a couple of fresh, ripe cherries. The girl was trembling slightly. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared up at the pair. She didn’t move off the path, even as she stood. The two teens looked to each other, then back to the girl, and smiled. “Hello there!” Midoriya said kindly, and stepped down from the cart, while Kaminari stayed aboard and took the reins, just in case the old mare got a bit fidgety. The girl didn’t answer. She stayed still as Midoriya approached. His smile remained gentle and good-natured as he got down on one knee, bringing himself to the little girl’s height. “What is your name, little girl?” he asked, sweetly. The girl paused, blinking just once, before answering in a plaintive, soft voice: “Eri.” “Eri,” repeated Midoriya. “That’s a nice name.” He looked back to the wagon. “Don’t you think so, Kaminari?” “Oh, yeah. Short but pretty,” Denki nodded. Midoriya smiled a little wider, and looked back to Eri. “What are you doing out here, Eri?” he asked, carefully, and looked about with some small amount of worry. “Are your parents around?” Eri bit her lip and squirmed where she stood, looking away and hugging herself. “My...my papa needs help,” she admitted quietly, sounding almost ashamed of the words. “I...I heard your cart coming, and...c-could you...could you help me?” Midoriya frowned with concern. “Of course we’ll help,” he promised sincerely, and looked back to Kaminari. “Stay here with Chiyo and the market goods. I’m gonna see what’s going on, then we can figure out what to do.” “Gotcha,” Kaminari nodded. “Be quick though.” “I’ll try,” Midoriya said, then looked back to Eri with another kind, sweet smile. “C’mon, Eri...let’s go, okay?” He extended a hand...and to his surprised, Eri stepped back, letting out a tiny, timid whimper, as if she expected to be hit. Midoriya looked at his palm, then up at the little girl. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. Just...take my hand, and tell me where to go. Alright?” Eri blinked a few times, looking between Midoriya’s face and his hand...then, her own tiny, trembling fingers clasped about his. Midoriya smiled and stood up, holding firmly but carefully onto the young lady as she led him off the path into the forest. Kaminari, for his part, watched them go. Once they were out of sight, he reached into the cart and picked out a juicy yellow apple. No reason he couldn’t have a snack while he waited: there was plenty in the cart to sell at market, anyway. He checked the surrounding trees as he took a crunching bite from the fruit. He made sure to be alert; he didn’t want to make any mistakes. After all, if Aizawa was right, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let their guard down in the forest… While Kaminari dutifully and calmly guarded the wagon, Eri led Midoriya deeper and deeper into the untouched woods, away from the road. Midoriya looked back and frowned; the cart disappeared from sight behind him. “How far away is your father, Eri?” he asked. “And what happened to him?” Eri bit her lip, and paused, keeping her head down. As they stopped, Midoriya looked to her with concern. “Eri?” he checked, quietly. “Please answer me.” Eri let out a whimper...and, without warning, pulled her hand away from Midoriya’s, as if his touch burned her. He stepped back with some alarm as her tiny, frail shoulders began to shake. He could hear her starting to cry. “...You’re nice,” she said very, very softly. “No one...no one has been nice to me...in such a long time…” She gulped and looked up to the teen with misty eyes. “I’m so sorry.” No sooner had Eri uttered the words...then suddenly, someone leapt out from the bushes behind Midoriya and grabbed hold of him. Midoriya gasped and whirled to try and fight back...but another figure lunged from behind a tree and grabbed hold of his other arm. Izuku’s eyes widened: both of his attackers were strapping, masculine figures, dressed in long black robes, with plague doctor’s masks upon their faces. “Wh-What is this?!” he shouted, and struggled to break free. “Let...LET GO OF ME!” “Good work, Eri.” Midoriya froze as he heard the words...and his eyes widened as a third figure stepped out from behind another tree, moving over to Eri’s side. They placed a dark-gloved hand on the girl’s shoulder; she whined like a kicked puppy and shuddered, clearly repulsed but unwilling to move away from the figure’s touch. This figure wore a long green coat, lined with unusual violet fur. He, too, wore a plague doctor’s mask...but this one was not the plain ivory visage the two strikers wore. His was decorated in red and gold, and covered only everything below his eyes. The golden eyes in question narrowed, a supercilious gleam in them. “Very good work, my daughter,” the voice behind the mask intoned. “Thank you for helping us, Izuku Midoriya. We have much to discuss.” The figure then pointed off in another direction, and uttered one command to the two cloaked men: “Take him!” “KAMINARI!” Midoriya yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling harder as one of the two attackers pulled a short club out of their robes. “KAMINARI! KAMINAR-!” WHACK! The world became fuzzy and filled with plain. Midoriya’s voice slurred unhealthily. “...K-Kamin-ar-i…” WHACK! Izuku knew no more. However, his cries had not gone unheard. Kaminari jolted as he heard Midoriya call to him with what sounded like real panic, the apple dropping from his hands and rolling across the dirt. It stopped right in front of the gray mare, who, thinking it was a treat, nibbled it happily. It was a lucky thing the apple distracted the horse, because the moment Kaminari heard the calls stop just as suddenly as they had come, he was on the move. He bounced off the wagon and bounded into the woods, calling back as he ran in the direction he’d seen Eri taking Midoriya. “MIDORIYA! MIDORIYA, I’M COMING!” Naturally, he was too late. Kaminari skidded to a halt, his expression horror struck, as he saw a second wagon not so far ahead...but this was no produce cart drawn by a farmer’s horse. Instead, it was a prison wagon, a cage-cart drawn by two black horses. He saw the driver’s plague doctor mask glint in the sunlight, and heard them laugh jeeringly as they whipped the horses up...then, the wagon rolled out of sight. Just before it disappeared, he caught sight of Midoriya, slumped over in the prisoner’s cage...alongside Eri and another figure he couldn’t rightly make out. Once it was gone, Kaminari stood stock still for several seconds, processing with dread what he had just witnessed...then, cursing under his breath, he dashed back through the woods to his own cart. Chiyo had just finished her apple, and let out a startled sound as the blonde-haired, yellow-eyed youth leapt back into the driver’s seat, tugging and cracking the reins. “C’mon, old girl!” he shouted. “We have to get back to the farm! This is an emergency!” The horse neighed, and the cart was soon turned around. Then, with another crack and a click, Kaminari rode the rattling wagon back down the road towards Aizawa’s farm as fast as he could…

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“Kidnapped?!” “Yeah!” Kaminari confirmed, emphatically. “I saw it happen, Mr. Aizawa! They were riding off with him; I couldn’t hope to catch up in time!” Aizawa grinded his teeth; a look of intense worry burned in his eyes. “Which way were they going?” he demanded, standing up from his desk in the room Kaminari had found him in. “South? West?” “East,” Kaminari replied. “Due East, no doubt of it.” “And you said the driver of the cart wore a plague doctor’s mask?” “Yes, sir!” Aizawa sighed. “There’s no doubt of it then,” he murmured, in an ominous tone of mortal dread. “He’s being taken to Yakuza.” Kaminari gulped nervously. Everyone in the Kingdom of Ua knew about Yakuza: it was one of two neighboring kingdoms, which had been feuding with the land for years on end. It was ruled by the evil King Kai; its armies were ruthless, and its defenses plentiful. While outright war had not been done in many years, relations between the kingdoms were still intensely...well...tense, to say the least. No one in Ua ever went to Yakuza...and lived to tell about it. “Wh-why would they take Midoriya?” Kaminari almost whimpered. “I can make a few guesses,” growled Aizawa curtly, as he dressed himself in his best hat and coat and looked to Kaminari. “I’m going to to take the new stallion to the castle. I have friends among the King’s Knights, they might be able to help us.” “I’ll go with you!” “No,” ordered Aizawa. “You stay here. I already have one of you in danger. I’m not getting you into any more trouble, and I don’t want you causing it, either.” “But I want to help!” “I know,” sighed Aizawa. “But this is no time for rash action!” “This is the PERFECT time for rash action!” Kaminari almost screamed out. “They took Izuku, and who knows what they’re gonna-?!” He stopped short at a burning, searing glare from Aizawa. He ducked his head and looked away. “...I’m...I’m sorry…” “Stay. Here,” Aizawa commanded, then added more softly, “Please.” Kaminari said nothing, but remained where he was. Aizawa looked the blonde haired boy over a time or two...then sighed again and shook his head, before hustling out of the house. There wasn’t a moment to lose. For a time, Kaminari stayed perfectly still where he stood. He listened. He waited. And the instant he heard the sound of Aizawa whistling to his horse, and the sound of the horse hooves galloping off into the distance...his eyes lifted. He looked to the beanstalk outside...and then moved to Aizawa’s desk. He hastily pulled out a small piece of parchment, and scribbled a message onto it. You said to leave you a note next time, the message read. I’m sorry, Master. I have to help my friend. I have to make up for my mistakes. Signed, Kaminari. With this managed, Kaminari clambered out of the open window, and crept towards the mighty beanstalk. He glanced from side to side, to make sure no one was looking...then, without another thought, he latched onto its based, grabbed hold of its stems and leaves...and began, once more, the long climb up...Up...UP…

“I’ll save you, Midoriya,” he promised, as he soon climbed up past the roof of the house, and kept right on climbing. “I’ll save you...one way or another…”

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“UUUURRRRRRRROOOORRRRRPH...mph...weak…” Bakugou snorted as he lounged back on the couch in the den of his and Kirishima’s home. His stomach was ever so slightly distended; just enough to make the strong, deep crevices between his six-pack muscles a little less well-defined, a clear but very small curve of fullness along his middle. One of his hands was resting upon his gut, covering his deep, black navel. He didn’t rub his stomach, didn’t scratch it...simply let his hand rest there, the limb rising and falling as his gut moved with his breathing. The ogre’s other arm was slung behind his messy-haired head as he glared with his usual, grouchy scowl at the ceiling, red eyes smoldering as he seemed to look through the ceiling itself...thinking and thinking. The (relatively) light meal he’d enjoyed left a pleasant warmth in his belly...but was not truly full yet. It barely made the slightest dent in his gut, and he knew he could fit more. But nothing around the house seemed to his satisfaction...and he had a feeling he knew what he wanted. What was stopping him? He knew what his stomach desired. He’d never denied it before. So why was he purposefully avoiding it now? He couldn’t even blame his appetite: he clearly wanted it, so what was holding him back? He didn’t know. This was...annoying. “Pissing me off,” he all but hissed to himself, fingers curling over his bare belly and twitching slightly with his ever-present anger. “Damn that little snack-rat...how’d that little fucker get inside my head anyhow…” He growled and shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts and the ever-repeating words. But they wouldn’t go away. He covered his ears, snarling and pulling at his hair. “Die, you stupid thoughts!” he snapped, trying to think of a way to force them out of his mind. He couldn’t take this much more…! He froze in the middle of his thoughts. His eyes widened as his ears pricked up. The giant listened closely. He could have sworn...he’d heard the scampering of tiny feet. He sniffed the air...and growled again, almost like a wild bear. “Fee, Fi, Fo-Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit…” The giant swung himself out of his seat and onto the floor...but he didn’t stomp his way towards the source of the sound and scent. Instead, he cautiously began to prowl towards it, moving almost like a giant cat. He was fairly certain the little rat hadn’t realized he was around, and he wanted to keep it that way… The giant tip-toed out of the living room and towards the main hall. He peered around the corner, and his red eyes widened at what he saw. He looked both surprised and angry at the same time. Creeping across the floor was a familiar little fellow - no bigger than a mouse, compared to the man-eating man-mountain - with yellow hair and matching eyes. He nervously moved across the floor, peering from side to side and looking all around. “Kirishima?” he called out. “Hello? Is anybody home?” “Yeah. Someone’s home, little snack.” Kaminari jumped...then squealed with fright as he saw Bakugou step out from hiding. The giant’s teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, his fists clenched and visibly shaking. With a comical holler, Kaminari flailed and turned around, trying to make a mad dash back the way he had come… “COME BACK HERE, RAT!” Katsuki roared. “I’LL KILL YOU!” “That’s not a good incentive for me to come back!” Kaminari called back. Bakugou just let out a wordless shout of anger, and lumbered forward. In three long, strong strides, he moved in front of Kaminari. Kaminari skidded to a halt as the Giant glared and lifted one massive boot over him... “DIE, RUNT!” “YIPE!” Kaminari barely had time to scramble out of the way before the giant’s foot slammed into the floor. THOOM! Denki stumbled as the floor shook with the force of the stomp. He hit the floor was was briefly winded...and barely had time to lift a hand in a pleading gesture, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, as Bakugou’s own giant fingers came swooping down towards him and snatched him. Kaminari cried out as he was hoisted into the air; vertigo hit him in an instant, and he felt woozy...but only for a second or two. He had much worse things to worry about as he was soon held up to the giant’s face. “What are you doin’ back here?” sneered Bakugou. “I...I was lookin’ for-GACK!” Kaminari choked and gasped as Bakuguou gave him a squeeze. His ribs felt nearly ready to cave in, and his spine creaked forebodingly. “I don’t give a damn,” Katsuki snorted, then smirked. “Guess it’s my luck you decided to try and rob us again. This time...you’re not goin’ home, runt.” Kaminari let out a terrified moan as Bakugou licked his lips. “I haven’t had a human to eat in months,” the ogre rumbled, his free hand rubbing his belly up and down. “Now, I’ll finally get a small taste again...thanks for comin’ to me, meat.” So saying, Bakugou closed his eyes and opened his jaws. Kaminari cried out as he was brought closer to the stinking hot maw of the man-eating monster, the tongue twitching as the teeth parted to reveal the slimy chasm of pink, soft flesh that would consume him. “W-Wait...WAIT, JUST A MINUTE! WAIT, PLEASE!” Kaminari yowled as the mouth loomed closer and closer, and he struggled in the giant’s grip. “I DIDN’T COME HERE TO STEAL, I PROMISE! PLEASE!” Bakugou stopped. His eyes opened...and he pulled Kaminari away from his jaws, closing them and glaring at the small morsel. “You’re...not here to steal?” he repeated, skeptically. Kaminari - relieved to be away from that mouth and the odor of digesting meat that came from it - sighed and nodded in confirmation. Bakugou glared darkly. “Why should I believe you?” “Um...b-because it’s true?” Kaminari eeped out. Bakugou’s glare did not soften. “Listen,” Kaminari said, and took a breath to steady himself before going on, still wiggling to try and find some semblance of comfort between the boa constrictors that were Bakugou’s mighty digits. “L-Listen, I...I’m sorry. For what I did last time. I know it was wrong, a-and I won’t do it again.” “Apology not accepted,” sneered Bakugou. “And if that’s all you’ve got, I’m eating you.” “It’s not, it’s not!” exclaimed Kaminari, desperately. “Please...wh-where’s Kirishima? I need his help!” “Stupid hair’s not here. He won’t be back till tomorrow,” shrugged Bakugou, carelessly. Kaminari looked mortified. “But...but...oh, no...now what do I do?” the human worried, speaking more to himself than the giant. “By tomorrow...b-by tomorrow, he could be dead…” Bakugou looked the tiny morsel up and down, and tilted his huge head curiously. “What do you need that extra’s help for, anyway?” he groused. “Midoriya. My friend. He’s been kidnapped.” Bakugou’s eyes widened anew. “Kidnapped?” he repeated, voice soft and somewhat shaky. “Yeah,” Kaminari nodded, his expression dour. “He...he was tricked…a-and a bunch of creeps from a rival kingdom took him away. I...I was too late to stop them. I though...maybe Kirishima could...you know...help me rescue him. Being a giant and all. But...without his help…” “Without his help, you’ll be better off,” snorted Bakugou. “Where is this kingdom?” Kaminari looked up, seemingly stunned. “Wait...you mean...YOU’LL help me?” “Psh. Don’t think of it as me helping you. I’m just helping myself,” Bakugou snorted, and smirked cruelly as he jabbed his free thumb to his chest, head held high. “No one’s gonna kill that green-haired, worthless idiot except ME. Besides, I’ve been on a ‘diet’ recently, you might say…” He licked his teeth as his stomach let out an excited burbling noise. “...I think it’s time I broke it. So...where do I need to go to eat?” Kaminari gulped nervously. “Um...uh...y-you need to go due east, f-from our home. I...I can point the way if you...um...maybe...p-promise not to eat me?” Kaminari smiled hopefully. Bakugou glared. “I don’t make promises to snacks,” he growled...then paused before going on, slowly: “Still...it’ll be hard to find the place without a guide...I guess I can let you live a little longer.” Kaminari sighed with even greater relief. “Thanks,” he breathed...then squeaked like a rodent as the giant quickly tucked him into his vest pocket. “Stay right there, and if you do anything stupid, I’ll squash you flat,” Bakugou grunted. “Now come on, snack. You’ve got another annoying bug to save…” He grinned viciously as he began to march out of the house. “...And I’ve got dinner waiting for me now. Heh heh heh…” Kaminari shuddered as he heard the giant smack his chops hungrily, and looked out over the white and blue landscape of the Kingdom Above the Clouds as his “ride” stepped out into the daylight and went on his way. “I hope I don’t live to regret this,” Denki murmured to himself. “Hang on tight, Midoriya...I’m coming…” “Ahem!” “Uh...oh, uh...w-we’re coming.” “Hmph. Better. Don’t make me regret not eating you…” “I’ll try...h-heh…”

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Izuku Midoriya groaned; a splitting headache greeted him as he opened his eyes. Breathing, itself, required great focus, which only made the throbbing, stinging pain in his cranium worse. Something prickled like nettles inside his nostrils - it smelled like ammonia - rousing him from the bleary, black haze he’d been in for some time. He could still feel the weight of the club against his skull, and hoped he didn’t have any lasting damage to worry about. Midoriya sneezed as the odor became stronger, and shook his head with a louder groan, trying to clear it and focus on the fuzzy, faded-out world around him. “That’s enough,” a voice grunted. “He’s coming to.” The scent went away, and that’s when Midoriya became aware of a few things. One, his hands and ankles were both bound with what felt like rough hemp cord. Two, a large wooden post or pole was against his back, his arms wrapped around it behind him. Three, as he shifted his bound feet he realized they brushed against splintery wood. Finally, vision and total awareness returned to him...and Midoriya felt a chill go up his spine. The location appeared to be a city square, a huge black castle not so far in the distance, and various buildings all around him. This, however, was no city square he’d encountered before...and the people around him were the most unsettling part of all. There were hundreds gathered all around him, and while many of them looked perfectly ordinary in dress and appearance...at least a third of them were wearing dark robes and bone-white plague doctor’s masks, thee black lenses blankly staring at Izuku upon the pyre he was stationed on. At the base of the pyre, Midoriya became aware of a flicker of flame. He looked down and gulped nervously: one of the Plague Doctors carried a torch. Beside him stood King Kai: his purple eyes peering over the crest of his ruby-and-gold mask, dressed still in his expensive-looking green and purple coat. Half-hidden behind the King was Eri, who was visibly shaking, eyes darting about to look anywhere except at Midoriya. Midoriya blinked at Eri...then looked up with a glare at King Kai. “Where am I?” he asked, bluntly. “Wh-What’s going on?” “Welcome to Shie, the capital city of Yakuza,” King Kai answered, and Midoriya could sense the smirk behind the mask. “I am-” “I know who you are,” Midoriya said, trying to sound as brave as he could, but unable to stop shaking. “What do you want with me?” Kai blinked slowly. “Why don’t you guess, filthy Uan?” he responded, his voice cold and cutting. Midoriya bit his lip. “In the past few months, the Beanstalk you grew has helped make your kingdom’s capital all the more prosperous,” Kai decided to explain, his voice business-like. “I would like to know how you were able to create such a thing, and where all the wealth came from.” “And why should I tell you that?” Kai narrowed his eyes, and with a slight motion of his head, the robed figure holding a torch stepped forward. Midoriya shuddered, but held up his head, straightening against the post as he glared defiantly. “Y-You can do what you want to me,” he said softly. “I’ll never tell you anything. If someone like you figured it out, who knows what you could do!” “I can already think of a few possibilities,” Kai said, coolly. “But I would recommend reconsidering. Burning to death is a TERRIBLE way to go. Trust me.” Midoriya’s defiant expression did not shift. “Please don’t hurt him…” Both Kai and Midoriya looked down at the furtive little voice that spoke. Kai’s eyes widened as he found Eri tugging on his pant leg. “Please...j-just let him go,” she pleaded. “H-He’s nice, he didn’t-AH!” Kai sneered as one of his minions struck the girl across the face, knocking her back. Kai checked his leg and sighed with relief when he saw nothing wrong. “Never touch me,” he said, in a soft, warning tone. “How often do I have to tell you, Eri? You. Do. Not. TOUCH ME.” Eri sniffled and whimpered, holding her cheek; a bright red mark was visible upon it. “Leave her alone!” snapped Midoriya. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” “She’s useful on occasion,” Kai answered, in the same icy tone as before. “But she’s very undisciplined. A father is supposed to discipline his child when they misbehave, yes?” Midoriya looked ill. He looked to Eri with sympathy. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently. Eri blinked, clearly not sure how to respond to the question under the circumstances. “She is far from your concern,” Kai intruded. “I’ll ask again: will you tell us where you got those so-called Magic Beans that brought that stalk to fruition? This is your last chance.” Midoriya struggled against his bonds for a moment, but the knots were strong and taut. He heard several in the crowd snicker. Sighing in defeat, he glared at Kai, who stared up patiently. “Even if I knew where you could find them,” he said, firmly, “I would never tell you.” “Very well,” shrugged King Kai. “In that case, you are of no use to me.” He held out a hand, twitching his fingers in a beckoning gesture. The minion holding the torch handed it over. Kai then turned to address the crowd. “Citizens of Yakuza!” he thundered. “The enemy agent has refused to tell us the secret of the Magic Beanstalk. Today, we burn him, and purge his sorry existence from our clean and well-ordered society. Tomorrow, we shall treat those who live on his farm the same way...and then cut down the mighty beanstalk itself!” The crowd cheered, lifting their fists and shouting jeers at Midoriya. Kai smiled darkly behind his mask, amethyst eyes glittering maliciously as he turned back to Izuku. “Any last words?” Kai hissed. Midoriya blinked once...and gave his reply quickly. PHUT! Kai stumbled back...and his expression became one of livid horror as he felt the slimy substance on his cheek...felt his face burning, felt the hives itch and puff up… He glared with psychotic, feral fury at Midoriya, who smirked back with undying defiance after spitting in the evil king’s face. Kai snarled, and without further hesitation, hurled the torch onto the pyre. The kindling at the base of the pyre began to crackle and burn in an instant. Midoriya’s smile faded, and he began to struggle again. The crowd cheered louder than before, laughing and mocking Midoriya’s struggles as he fought for dear life. Smoke was wisping up, and growing rapidly in density...the fire would be burning fiercely in a very short while. If smoke inhalation didn’t kill him, the flames themselves would. Either way, it would be a lingering, painful demise. “HELP! HELP ME!” he called out, struggling to loosen the knots. Kai glared with triumphant anger as his robed minions taunted Midoriya by mockingly screaming for help, and the crowd pointed and hollered. “NO! NO, LET HIM GO! STOP!” Eri cried out, as two of the masked men held her back. “Perhaps you’ll scream out the answer while you burn, you diseased piece of trash,” sneered Kai. “If not...at least tomorrow we’ll make sure your family suffers the same fate.” Midoriya struggled harder in response, which made Kai chuckle. He crossed his arms, the dark king patiently watching the fire rise and the smoke billow, quickly growing into thicker and thicker curls of vapor...it wouldn’t be long before Midoriya began coughing and wheezing. He was going to enjoy every last second of this he thought, shuddering with revulsion as he touched the stinging portion of his face the boy had spat on. “Bring me my balm,” he muttered, looking towards one of his minions. “I need to-” THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP… Kai froze...and the crowd soon went silent...as a huge, pounding sound echoed through the air. The ground began to tremble, and all across the city went very quiet, confused and frightened as the noise grew steadily louder, and the vibrations more intense… Midoriya blinked, and looked upwards, as did Eri and Kai and nearly everyone else gathered in the city square. Midoriya saw a huge, towering silhouette - at least as large as the castle itself - approaching the area… “Kirishima?” he whispered to himself hopefully, with an optimistic smile.

“A Giant!” exclaimed King Kai, and barked orders to some of his soldiers as he moved a few steps away from the pyre, the people of the city clutching each other, their chatter turning into frightened noises as the King shouted and cried out: “Get to the edges of the city! Fan out! Do everything in your power, but don’t let that...that THING pollute my capital!” The soldiers hurried to move, forgetting all about Midoriya, whose pyre still burned. Midoriya himself had almost forgotten, himself, given the circumstances.: the adventurous lad’s smile quickly faded into a look of confusion and fear as he realized the hair didn’t look like Kirishima’s...and as the giant moved closer and closer, and people in the city began to fretfully murmur, he soon saw the glare of two glowing red eyes. So like Kirishima’s, yet so unlike them. A flash of green and orange caught his eye...and that’s when Midoriya knew. “B-Bakugou?!”

To Be Continued...

46 notes · View notes

fiction-boys-rule · 3 years

Text

Imagine...joining the Leverage team and liking Eliot.

Pairing: Eliot Spencer/(Y/N)

Warnings: slight violence, fluff

Word Count: 2,200

Boring real life has been very stressful lately so writing has been non existent. If any of you have any ideas or requests, I am happy to take them. The characters I write for are very limited and this year I’m working on changing that, so my apologies. Hope you enjoy :)

You blow out the candles, smiling as the team claps and cheers. Nate holds up his glass from his position on the couch, making you roll your eyes and smile.

“Did you make a wish?” Parker asks, gazing up at you.

“Yeah.”

“What was it?” Hardison asks.

Parker quickly slaps his forearm, making him protest and glare over at her.

“What the-“

“You know that if you say a birthday wish out loud it doesn’t count!”

“Why not? That’s kids stuff.” He frowns.

“It doesn’t come true! And it’s not kids stuff!” Parker glares at him.

“Alright, guys. I won’t say my wish, okay? Let’s just have some cake.” You intervene.

Sophie smiles over at you before you cut the cake and serve everyone. Later, you gratefully take a glass of whiskey from Nate and enjoy the silence of the apartment. Everyone else has gone off to do other things while Nate and you decided to stay behind.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t say my wish, but can I still say it?”

Nate leans back in his chair, lazily looking over at you.

“Well, I don’t believe in those things. If you don’t put it out there and chase it, how will you get it? I guess you can consider me the devils advocate here.”

“Alright. I’ll indulge you. My wish was to finally be able to go out and help you guys.”

“Help us?” He eyes you warily.

“Yeah. I mean I know I do already in my own way but I just really want to see what it’s like out there. Even if it’s just being in the background.”

“You’re already in the background. With Hardison. Safe background.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not what I meant. Don’t you want me to see how this works? I mean you always complain that I don’t get it. So let me get it. Come on. I promise I’ll listen to you and play it safe. But let me have some fun, please!”

“That’s the problem. It’s not ‘fun’ out there, kid. It’s a job. I don’t know if you can handle it.”

“Handle it? You know what I can’t handle? Hardison for one more day! No offense to him but I can’t stand another day stuck with him in that hot van! I can’t, Nate! I’m going crazy! Stir crazy! Can you at least let me do this once? Please!”

“What’s so bad with Hardison?”

“Parker this, Parker that. He’s always talking about her and I wouldn’t mind it if he actually went and told her how he feels! He reminds me of someone I know and I can’t stand it!”

“That person you know is that bad?”

“Yes, he is! And he’s not granting me my birthday wish!”

You lean back and sigh, glaring at him. He sighs, holding his face in his hands.

“Bad enough I have to accommodate everyone else and now you? You’re the one I like because you never ask for anything!”

“I’m asking for one thing and suddenly you don’t like me?”

He grumbles, sighing heavily and rubbing his face.

“The alcohols not going to kill me, it’s going to be you or Sophie.”

“Oh, I guarantee you that. We’re already planning your murder. We have plans A to C done. How much does your ex hate you by the way?”

He suddenly looks up and sends you an annoyed glare. You laugh softly, running your fingertips on the rim of your glass.

“You remember how I had that friend whose dad owns a whiskey company? Well, they offer care packages for people they know and the discounts are so good. But it’s not my favorite and I don’t want it to go to waste. Don’t want my friend to think I’m taking advantage of them. But they did offer me a full tour of their distillery. Full of test tasting, complimentary dinner, drinks-“

“Sophie is going to kill me.” He groans, shaking his head side to side.

“Well that was going to happen either way.”

He groans, taking a bigger swig.

“Just listen to everyone and don’t get in the way of them doing their job. I’m pairing you with Eliot. So far you’ve been getting along. I think he likes you.”

“Likes me?” You stutter.

How would Nate know about your crush on Eliot? How would anyone know?

“Yeah, well he brings you your favorite drink every day and he got you that gift.”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not doing this right now. Leave me in peace and regret and I’ll update the team later.”

You slowly get up and smile as soon as you close his office door. Checkmate.

Time Skip

"While I'm proud of you, we don't know who we are dealing with exactly. You've seen it before. Us, the professionals, even get in trouble sometimes. But we trust Nate to make a plan to bail us out."

You frown as you see all of the orange soda in the fridge. Choosing to just grab bottled water, you close it and turn to a very worried looking Sophie.

"I'm going with Eliot. It'll be fine. I’ll be fine."

"By any chance, did you have a say in who you were joining?"

She peers innocently at you.

"No. Nate just said and I went along with it."

You take a swig and watch as she looks away.

"Ah, I see.”

“Why?"

"It's nothing."

She gives you one last undecipherable look before heading to the couch and sitting next to Parker. You frown. Even being with the team almost a year, you didn't know everyone that well yet. When you had applied for a “secretary title with a concoction of ever changing duties” position working alongside Nate, this was the last thing you expected. You’re glad you took a risk and gave them the benefit of the doubt. It took a while to gain their trust, but they eventually liked you and included you more and more in what they actually did. It was probably because they liked the extra manpower and variety than their already established and constant team members. You sit on the couch and wait for Nate to come reveal the big plan.

"So, you're tagging along with Eliot?" Hardison asks while typing away at his laptop.

"Uh, yeah."

He clicks his tongue while shaking his head.

"You're going to regret it. Eliot isn't the best or easiest to work with."

“Then who is?"

He looks over at you with a “really?” look.

"Obviously me. I would love to teach someone my skills."

You nod slowly and laugh.

“What's so funny?"

"Eliot also said that about you, remember?"

"You mean the Denzel case?"

"Yeah."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

You laugh and look over at the door opening. You see Eliot and he comes in, sitting next to you.

"Hey." You smile.

"Hey. Where's Nate?"

"Probably getting drunk in his office. Want me to go get him?"

"You shouldn't. He'll come out eventually. Probably thinking about his big plan." Sophie says.

"Alright! Is the whole team here?"

You all turn your heads towards Nate.

Time Skip

"A basement is a pretty bad place to hide a bunch of cash. Just saying." You mumble as you follow Eliot through a hallway.

“Yeah, well some people aren't as smart as others."

You quickly turn your head around a corner to check for any guards.

"You know, I thought you would be mad, or even annoyed, that Nate let me tag along."

He turns his head around a corner.

"Yeah, well I think it's a good way to learn something. I like to teach. Just don’t make Hardison my student.” he grumbles.

You run towards a door. He opens it and you squeeze in.

"Alright. That's the control room. See a metal box?" Hardison says.

You tune out Hardison's orders to Eliot while you look for any guards.

“Hey, I'm going to go check the other door. That should be the door to the basement. If it's a basement." You whisper.

Eliot nods, cutting a cord.

"Yeah, go. Tell me if you see anything."

"Y/N, be careful. Just because there haven't been any guards yet, doesn't mean you should get confident." Nate says.

"I'll be fine. The door is right here." You whisper.

You open it and look in.

"It's just a big room with nothing in it. Just some vaults. There could be something in here.“

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to greet Eliot before a fist comes at you and you feel pain before darkness greets you.

"Y/N, hey. Hey. It's okay. How you feeling?"

You groan, adjusting your eyes to a bright light. Your head is pounding and your jaw is feeling sore.

"What? Where am I?"

"She's alive!" Parker yells, making you grimace.

"You okay, Y/N?" Nate asks.

Eliot clears his throat forcefully.

"A guard found you. Knocked you out pretty good. The guard blew us. We're going to have to find another way out. You okay? Not feeling dizzy? You might have a concussion."

"Yeah, I'm fine. What about the basement?"

"Forget about it. We just need to get out of here."

“We could use the window in the basement. It's small, but I bet we could fit. It leads to the backyard. All we have to do is run across the yard in the blind spot of the cameras, climb the fence and we're out of here."

"You remember all of that? Damn, Nate. She deserves a promotion." Hardison says.

"Thanks." You say softly.

Eliot shakes his head, "Lets get out of here, then."

The moon is bright after you had escaped the house and were waiting for the team to pick you up. You were leaning against a wall next to Eliot, letting the cool night breeze hit your face. You were listening to Hardison and Nate bicker about something.

"Thanks for uh-saving me, I guess." You say suddenly, breaking the silence.

Eliot looks over at you. He motions for you to take out the ear pieces and you do. He takes yours and his, and puts them in his pockets.

"What was that for?" You ask.

“We don't need to hear Hardison complaining. We get that enough already." He says.

You both laugh.

“But seriously. Thanks for helping me. But I just want you know for the future I would rather get caught than risk-"

He shakes his head, frowning.

"I don't like to think about that. Point is, it didn't happen."

You nod, looking at the moon.

"I think you did good. For your first time. I wouldn't mind having you tag along again." He says.

You smile, looking into his beautiful blue eyes. "Thanks. I enjoyed myself. And I think I’ll have a bump on my head to remind me about this little adventure."

“Well, at least you’ll still have a head, darlin’.”

You both laugh softly. He moves to stand in front of you and lays a hand on the wall.

"Just be more careful next time, alright? I don't want anything bad happening to you."

"What, I worry Big Bad Eliot?" You tease.

“Yes, you do." He says.

His low voice sends shivers down your spine. He slowly starts to lean in until his face is inches from yours. His eyes gaze at you softly. You move a hand up to his neck and gently move him closer. You both close your eyes as his lips place a small kiss on yours. Soft and slow. You shiver from an incoming gust of wind and pull him closer. You kiss him back harder as his other arm hugs your waist. He grips your waist harder and pushes you more against the wall. You moan, gently scratching at his neck. As he pulls away slowly, he bites your lower lip. He moves back and nuzzles his face in your neck. His lips press against your shoulder blade and his facial hair tickles your skin.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He whispers.

You bite your lip and your arms surround his back.

“Two gifts in one day. Wow.”

You both laugh softly and he kisses your neck, holding you and comforting you with his warmth.

"So...." you whisper.

He pulls back to look down at your face and smiles.

"So...the team is here."

You quickly look over and see the van waiting at the end of the alley. Eliot grabs your hand and motions with his head. You smile and walk beside him as he leads you to the curb. He opens the van door and Hardison's shocked face greets you.

"One time. One time. And Eliot's stupid charm overtakes you. Unbelievable."

You laugh and hide your blush as you get in the van, sitting next to Eliot.

"So, I take that it went well?" Nate asks, looking at you with a knowing look.

“Yeah. Perfect." Eliot says, looking over at you with a smile.

You blush and lay your head on his shoulder.

“Surprising but it worked out in the end.” You chuckle.

Nate laughs, shaking his head as Hardison mumbles rapidly, driving all of you away.

#leverage #eliot spencer #eliot leverage #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer imagine

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years

Text

Let’s Play Forever

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Yeonjun had always been confident. Some would say too confident even. It’s you, you’re some. It isn’t until he gets passed over for the leader position that you seem him doubting himself for the first time, and you gotta say, you don’t like it one bit.

A/N: this was gonna be a really nasty femdom fic but I got soft and it turned into a fluffy switchy mess, but it’s still nasty don’t worry and still femdom

Anger bubbles up in your throat and you grit your teeth to try and keep it down as you watch the instructor berate Soobin for the hundredth time.

“I’m sorry, Seongho-nim. I didn’t have enough time to practice.” Soobin mumbles with his head down.

“Yeonjun had the same amount of hours to practice and yet he executed the moves perfectly. Why can’t you?”

Of course he’d bring up Yeonjun, the star trainee. He was good at everything, and he was insufferable about it, parading around and showing off to anyone who would listen.

When you’d first gotten into the company and didn’t know any better, he took you to the wall where the names of the top trainees in each category were written, except they were all the same name–Choi Yeonjun. Your confusion only lasted a second before he smugly proclaimed that he was Choi Yeonjun. He’d gotten on your nerves ever since.

You hated how arrogant he was, but most of all, you resented how his proficiency in everything he set out to do only served to highlight Soobin’s mistakes, making them all the more glaring, and that was just unfair. Soobin worked just as hard as Yeonjun did, it’s not his fault that he’s naturally more clumsy and forgetful. Not everyone can be born blessed with impeccable coordination and sense of rhythm.

“I guess he’s just the better dancer.” Soobin replies meekly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yeonjun smirking at you and you turn your head to glare at him.

“Yeah, no shit. You better get your shit together soon or you won’t be here for much longer.” The instructor growls at the poor boy, and Soobin’s head hangs even lower. “Yes, Seongho-nim.”

You wait until the instructor is out of the room, all the while staring daggers at his retreating back, before you rush forward to comfort Soobin.

“Don’t listen to him, Binnie. You’re a great dancer!” You clasp your arm around his back, trying to shake him out of the horrible mood he was in.

“I don’t know, noona. I just can’t seem to get anything right. Maybe I should just quit.” You gasp. Quit? He can’t quit! You wanted him to stay.

“Don’t say that, sweetie.” You coo softly. Just then, an idea pops up into your head. “I know what we can do! I can help you practice. You’ll get better in no time!”

At that, his head shoots up and he smiles brightly, and you swear you could just smother him in kisses with how happy you’ve made him look. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I’d do anything for you.” There was no hesitation in your words. You’d really do anything for the precious boy.

“You’re so nice to me, noona.” Your heart swells even more until you feel like it could just burst. And then it does, but not in the way you’d hoped. “You know, you remind me of my own noona. With you around it’s like she’s here with me.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” You choke when he engulfs you in a warm hug.

“Thank you for being here for me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He pulls back but his arms remain around your waist as he smiles down at you innocently, not knowing what his proximity is doing to you.

You were in hell. On the one hand, it felt so good to be held like this by him. You were starved for any kind of intimacy from him. But on the other hand, the way he was looking at you was nothing but genuine and pure, and it killed you that he felt nothing but platonic love for you.

“It’s really no problem.” You say awkwardly, breaking the bittersweet embrace yourself. “Why don’t you go take a shower now. You stink.” You slap his arm lightly, and he laughs.

“Ok. You’re the best, noona!” He kisses your cheek and runs around collecting his stuff.

As soon as he leaves the room, a boisterous laugh erupts from behind you.

“Wow, getting sister-zoned. That’s gotta hurt.”

“Fuck off, Yeonjun.” You turn towards the boy with a mean scowl on your face.

“Come on, noona, he’s never going to be interested in you. He’s too much of a good boy. He can probably sense that you’re bad news, like a little mouse smelling a snake.” He grins, sticking his tongue out between his teeth and making a hissing sound. “I don’t know why you bother with him when you’ve got me right here.”

You rake your eyes over his seated form, eyeing up his long limbs and his pretty face. He was staring you down too, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes dark. He looked hungry and sinful and that’s precisely why you didn’t want him. You liked good boys like Soobin, not arrogant assholes like Yeonjun.

Turning away from him, you start gathering your own stuff. “Thanks but no thanks.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You’re not my type.”

He scoffs, offended by the mere notion. “I’m everyone’s type. You’re just a frigid bitch.”

That brat!

You round on him, stomping towards him and leaning over him with a sharp frown. “No, I’m just not interested in selfish brats who cares about no one but themselves.”

“I’m not selfish.” You hear him protest as you turn your back on him, but you ignore him, grabbing the last of your items before leaving.

________________________________

“You know this isn’t gonna make me do you, right?”

“I’m not trying to get you to do me.”

You glare at him suspiciously, obviously not believing him. There is no way in hell that Yeonjun would voluntarily offer to help you help Soobin practice unless it benefitted him in some way.

He rolls his eyes at your clear distrust of him. “I’m doing this to prove to you that I’m not selfish.”

“So you’re only doing this to make yourself look better? You’re right, that’s not selfish at all.”

He glares at you, “Yeah, and what about you? You’re only helping Soobin because you want to get into his pants.”

“That’s not true!” You splutter. “I care about him as a person!”

“And I care about you.” He shrugs.

“Whatever, as long as it helps Soobin.” You grumble, reluctantly accepting his assistance.

And it did help. To be honest, before Yeonjun joined you, you and Soobin were getting nowhere. Your efforts combined were just not as good as Yeonjun’s and despite the significant improvement, his skills still couldn’t compare to Yeonjun’s. Until the boy in question decided to offer his help.

After that, you weren’t needed that much anymore. Yeonjun was a much better mentor than you were, but you still hung around whenever they practiced together. At first because you didn’t trust Yeonjun. Maybe he was doing this to undermine Soobin in some way or just to generally bully him and lower his spirits. But much to your surprise, Yeonjun was a better instructor than even the company appointed one. He was strict but never abusive. He got frustrated with Soobin sometimes but that was only because he thought he could do better. And he was very creative in explaining things to Soobin–if the younger boy didn’t understand something, he found another way to teach it to him.

You had always suspected that Soobin was a good dancer and singer that could shine if he was given the proper direction and nurture, and with Yeonjun’s help, that’s exactly what he got. And you found yourself growing fonder of Yeonjun the more Soobin thrived under his guidance.

Now instead of attending their practice sessions to make sure Yeonjun wasn’t doing something fishy, you would go just to witness the older boy in his zone. You’ve never really paid much attention to him before–you refused to just because that’s what he wanted you to do–but now that you do, you could see how exceptional he really was. Yes, he was still annoying and his ego was larger than life, but you found yourself softening up to him.

The first time Soobin’s performance got praised instead of insulted by Seonho-nim because of Yeonjun’s help, you were so ecstatic that you had pulled the older boy out of the room and kissed his face off.

“I thought you said this won’t make you have sex with me.” He had smirked at you.

“It won’t.” You shut him up, kissing him again.

______________________________________

Ever since then, you couldn’t stop thinking about his lips. They were always so plush and inviting, especially when he pouted at you, which seemed to always be happening these days as he kept trying to get closer to you.

You didn’t mind it anymore, Yeonjun was an interesting person and you enjoyed spending more time with him and getting to know him. You had learned that, among the trainees, he’d been here the longest and that some of his friends who had left the company have already debuted–something that only fueled his determination to debut more.

Now that you think about it, Yeonjun wasn’t obligated to care for Soobin. For all he knows, Soobin might not even end up in the debuting team, or worse, he might beat Yeonjun for a position.

That’s why it must’ve stung so much when Soobin was chosen as the leader for Bighit’s new boy group instead of Yeonjun.

It was disconcerting to see him doubting himself. You were so used to his cocksure attitude and easy confidence that you almost forgot that he was human too and was subject to the same doubts and fears everyone was.

It shouldn’t bother you this much. Soobin was getting the acknowledgement he deserved at long last, and he was more than appreciative to you for it, gushing about how he never would’ve had the courage and will power to continue if not for your help. But you found yourself only half-listening to his words of gratitude, your mind occupied by the crest-fallen boy who for the first time ever actually looked unsure of himself.

“It’s not the end of the world, Yeonjun.” You told him, back at your apartment. You don’t know why you even invited him over, but you couldn’t handle seeing him look so angry and lost. “These leader positions don’t go to the best trainee. They go to the one who could mediate the group the best, and Soobin is a good mediator.”

“I deserve that position! What can he do that I can’t do?” He asks, and for once, it’s a question rather than a proclamation.

“Listen!” You yell out in frustration, “A good leader needs to listen and you never do.”

“I can’t believe that after all I’ve done, I still lost.”

“Don’t be stupid, Yeonjun. You didn’t lose shit. You still got into the group.”

“Yeah, but I’d have to take orders from him from now on.” He laments bitterly, and you know he doesn’t mean it like that. He’d come to be close with Soobin too, but it must hurt to have the person you helped train get chosen over you. “I’d rather quit.”

“What is it with you boys and quitting? No one is quitting!” You scold him.

“What do you care anyway? Isn’t this what you wanted all along, for me to fail and Soobin to succeed?” He crosses his arms, leaning against your table and looking at you like a wounded puppy.

You roll your eyes and march over to him, “I never wanted you to fail, Yeonjun. I just wanted Soobin to feel better.”

He scoffs, averting his eyes. “Well, he must feel like a fucking champ right now.”

Stepping ever closer to him, you corner him between your body and the table, “And what about you, how does that make you feel?”

“Like shit?” It comes out like a question as he stares at you in suspicion, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips in a pout, trying to figure out what you were going to do.

You place your hands on either side of him on the table, effectively trapping him. He looks so cute like this, all vulnerable and lost. You weren’t used to him being so docile, but it was fucking turning you on. And when his tongue darted out to nervously wet his lips, you couldn’t hold yourself back.

You cut off his startled question as you capture his mouth with your own. Taking advantage of his momentarily shock, you press your lips against his in small kisses that end before he gets to fully enjoy them, teasing him. His lips were as plump as you remember, and you take the bottom one between your teeth and bite down, making it swell up even more. His mouth opens in a gasp and you soothe over his now red lip with your tongue before slipping it into his open mouth.

Once he feels your tongue against his, he reciprocates the kiss, wrapping his lips around your tongue and trapping it inside his mouth as his own tongue moves against yours. When he starts clutching onto you, panting and hard, you pull away, earning yet another pout from his full and wet lips.

“Shh,” You can’t resist pressing one last quick peck against his glistening lips before moving along his jaw and down his neck, your kisses getting rougher the needier he gets.

“Are you doing this just to make me feel better?” He gasps out, pressing your body to his. You could feel how hard he was already and it made you want to devour him.

“Maybe.” You whisper in his ear before sucking on the sweet spot under it, earning a choked moan from him as his hips involuntarily buck forward. Truth is, you’ve wanted to do more than kiss him for a long time now.

“I’m worth more than a pity fuck.” He grumbles, and then gasps when you slip your hand down his pants, wrapping it around his hot member. “You are.”

He moans as your palm swipes over his slit, and spreads his legs to give you better access, his back arching as his hips buck up in time with your strokes.

Pulling on your hair gently, he pulls your mouth away from his neck and makes you face him. “Say it.”

Looking him straight in the eye, you say genuinely, “You deserve so much more, baby. You’re one of a kind.” You stroke him faster, watching hungrily as he gasps for air.

“And what about Soobin?” He prods, one of his hands slipping under your shirt.

“He’s a good boy too.”

He frowns at that, pushing your bra up and pinching your nipple. You gasp, your back arching into his touch and your hand tightening around his length.

“But I’m better, right?“ He bites his lip, but his moans still come out as your strokes become more firm the more he plays with your breasts.

“This is what you wanted Soobin for, right? To be your obedient little fucktoy?” He asks brattily, one measure mocking and the other spoiled, and you feel your underwear sticking to you uncomfortable with how wet you were becoming. “It’s okay, noona, you can play with me instead. I’ll be your good boy.”

Taking your hands off him, you push him away to slip your pants and underwear down to your legs and kick them away. Then you switch positions with him so you’re sitting on top of the table and he’s standing between your legs.

Grabbing his dick, you slide it up and down your soaking slit. Every time it touches your hole, you push just the head of it inside before pulling it back out, leaving you aching and clenching around nothing, but it’s worth it to hear his whimpers each time.

“What a filthy mouth you have, baby. Such a bad boy who knows how to act good to get what he wants.”

“Hmm,” He buries his face in your neck, sucking big, wet kisses all over your skin. “Let me fuck you then.”

“How much do you want it?” You tease as you push more of him inside and squeeze your walls around him, only to pull it back out once again.

“So fucking bad.” He whines, grabbing your ass and bucking his hips forward, his dick sliding wetly over your pussy. “I can just fuck you stupid.”

“Yeah, is that what you fantasize about, Junnie? Fucking me until I break on your cock baby?” You goad him, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit.

“Yeah I want to fuck you until you’re so filled up with my cum and your pussy is so sore, I’ll ruin you for other men.” He takes his cock from your hand and lines himself up with your entrance and pushes inside.

“Go slow.” You moan, throwing your head back. He huffs into your shoulder as his body becomes flush against yours. His mouth continues abusing your neck as his hips swivel and grind against yours, the friction making you involuntarily close your legs, bringing him even closer to you.

“Good boy.”

“Yeah, I’m your best boy.” He boasts, hips pulling back ever so slight just to snap forward again, hitting you deep inside in sharp little bursts. “You like having my cock in you? It fills you up just right, huh?”

“Yes, you’re just perfect, baby.”

“I can feel how your pussy is just dying to milk me dry.” He pulls back to take your shirt and bra off, and cups your breasts in his hands, pushing them together. “Can’t wait till you’re all stuffed full of my cum.”

"You can’t have it all, Junnie.” Your voice shakes as his thumbs twirl around your nipples, “Either you get to fuck me how you want or you get to cum inside me. You can’t have both.”

“And why not?” His hands massage your breasts as his hips keep grinding against yours, making you feel like you could cum just from this.

“Because it’s more fun for me this way.” You grin, dragging your nails down his chest and making his hips jump forward.

“So this is how you wanna play, huh?” He challenges, “Fine by me.”

Pushing you flat against the table, he grabs you by the hips and snaps his hips into you, fucking you roughly.

“Shit.” You bite down on your tongue, getting overwhelmed with the sudden spike in pleasure. If you had known the sex would be this good, you would’ve fucked him a long time ago.

“Is it as good as you imagined it, baby boy?” You tease him, using your own hands to play with your tits.

“Yes, noona. You’ve kept me waiting for too long.” He growls, his tight grip on your hips barely enough to hold you in place against his sharp thrusts.

“Poor baby.” You purr, tightening yourself around him and drawing out a long moan from his throat. “Is it too much for you?”

He scoffs and his hips stop moving. You frown, “Why did you–”

You gasp as you feel him squeeze a finger inside of you, stretching you out almost painfully as your pussy widens to accommodate the extra girth. You whine and squirm in discomfort as his finger prods around the tight space, but he presses his other hand down on your abdomen and holds you in place.

“Yeonjun, I swear to god–oh fuck!” You suddenly cry out as his finger hits just the right spot inside of you.

A grin stretches across his face as you realize what he’s doing but it’s too late because then he’s fucking you with both his dick and his finger, the combined stretch of his dick and the incessant way he was rubbing against your sweet spot has your legs shaking and trying to close up, the stimulation too much. But his body prevents you from closing your legs, forcing you to lie there and take it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You grit out, feeling the sharp pleasure shoot up your body as he adds another finger to the one already inside.

“Yeah, cum on my cock, noona.” He groans and fucks you even harder, the slapping sound of his thighs hitting yours and your slick squelching around his fingers filling the room.

When you cum, your pussy almost couldn’t contract around him for how much it was stretched. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t!” You cry out, your eyes closing against the intense pleasure and your body shaking under him.

“Ah–I’m gonna c-cum, noona.” He whimpers quietly but you hear it, and it tears you out of your hazy orgasm. You summon all your strength and sit up, pushing him out of you and closing your fist tightly around the base of his dick.

“No, no, no.” He shouts, his hips humping the air as he tries to hold onto his orgasm, but with your hand wrapped tightly around him, only a few drops of cum drip down his cock as it twitches in vain.

“What did I say about cumming inside, Junnie?”

“You’re a fucking sadist.” He growls, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to catch his breath and calm down.

“Now I could not let you cum just for that attitude.” You chastise.

“No, please, let me cum, please. I’m sorry.” He whines, kissing you, hot and desperate. His body vibrates in your hold and you could practically taste his desperation. “Please.”

“Okay.” You relent, if only because of the delicious burn in your pussy from the orgasm he brought you just seconds ago. As you jack him off, you spread your legs, putting your pussy on display for him, taunting him with what he can’t have. “Maybe if you’re good, you could cum inside me next time.”

He was so close already that it only takes him a couple of strokes to cum, his seed landing on your pussy and inner thighs, contrasting prettily against your skin. He must like it too because he stares at like he’s committing it to memory.

“Fuck, thank you.” He grunts, taking off his shirt and wiping the mess between your legs with it.

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” You say sheepishly, feeling sorry for ruining his shirt.

But he doesn’t care, chucking it to the floor and enveloping you in a sudden embrace, his breath warm against your ear. You let him hold you for a bit, stroking his back as his breathing evens out and his heartbeat slows down.

Pulling back ever so slightly, you cup his face between your hands and whisper to him, “I meant it, by the way. I think you’re amazing and you’re gonna do huge things in the future.”

“I know.” He retorts cheekily, and you roll your eyes and pull him in for a kiss.

________________________________

A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated mwah

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt scenarios #txt fanfic #txt imagines #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines

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