#but its fine if i was supposed to reach a boss ill see it in fullgame

[unsanctitude]

im excited for baby sheep 🥺

#cute animal murder cult 😭 also i just love sheep #this character is an amogus to me #cult of the lamb #cotl #lamb #sheep #i played the demo but i think i failed..? #but its fine if i was supposed to reach a boss ill see it in fullgame #no spoiliops #my art #fanart #TW: #blood #slaughter #get lambchopped #edit Omg just realized he reminds me of the movie Chirin's Bell with the little bell its wearing #will baby evolve into a big carnivorous ram one day..?

[worksinprogress1]

It was mid-day when Laventon’s ship arrived at prelude beach. He could see the vast forests of the land he was about to study, no doubt teeming with species he’d never encountered, a great mountain that would doubt hold interest, and the walls to the little village he’d be staying in. It was so exciting that he could barely contain himself! He’d studied Pokémon in plenty of regions, sure, but never one whose fauna was so unexplored as this. The woman who’d hired him had said she wanted his help in creating a record of every single Pokémon in the region! Even he wasn’t sure they could pull it off, but he was willing to try!

…And that very woman was becoming increasingly visible on the docks. Laventon pulled himself together somewhat, removed his toque, attempted to brush down his hair with his fingers, gave up on doing so and repositioned his toque, and brought out the three Pokémon he’d brought from overseas so that they could make an entrance.

The boat hit the docks. Laventon hopped off and gave his new boss an excited wave. “Hello, there! You must be Captain Cyllene!”

The woman peered up from a photo she was holding- the picture Laventon had sent her in his letters so she’d be able to recognize him. “That is correct,” she deadpanned. “And you’re Professor Laventon.”

“That’s right. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to the opportunity.”

“Excellent. Come with me,” Cyllene said, turning towards the village.

It wasn’t a long walk to the severe-looking wooden walls of Jubilife, and as they approached, the watchmen opened up the gates to reveal a quaint little place. Children were playing with hand-carved toys in the streets, villagers worked in the fields, and number of cute little shops made themselves available to them. Laventon caught himself eyeing up a local’s woodcarvings before he realized that he was falling behind Cyllene. He caught back up just as she reached the steps of a large stone building.

“This is Galaxy Hall, home of the Galaxy Team, which you will be joining,” Cyllene explained, still walking with an evident sense of purpose. “We are a group dedicated to building a life on Hisui both for ourselves and for future generations. The Survey Corps is a new division of the Galaxy Team meant to research Pokémon so that we might gather resources more easily, explore their uses, and generally learn to coexist.”

The two walked through a door into a messy office. Cyllene stepped behind the desk and pulled out a blue uniform, complete with a satchel and red scarf.

“This is a mere formality since you won’t be doing fieldwork yourself, but here is our uniform. The Survey Corps will have their first excursion tomorrow and will bring you subjects for research. For today, I’d like you to give me a full report on the Pokémon currently in my office, including its abilities and care needs.”

Laventon took the uniform and looked uncomfortably around the room for the Pokémon. “The Pokémon in…? Oh.” Laventon finally spotted the abra asleep in the corner. “He’s a cute little fellow.”

“He was found injured, and he is constantly lethargic or asleep despite several months having passed. If you have any information on what the problem with him might be, report it to me immediately.”

Laventon smiled. “Actually, I can help you with that right now. We have that Pokémon in several regions. They’re called abra- as in "abra kadabra"- and they’re supposed to sleep all the time. Their psychic energy uses a lot of energy, after all. I’ll take a look, but there might be nothing wrong with it at all!”

"It isn't ill?" It was hard to tell, but Laventon could swear that Cyllene had just let out a sigh of relief.

"Most likely not."

“Excellent. Well, start your report. Your office is the one next to mine. When you’ve finished, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

“Will do!”

Laventon beckoned the abra over to him and left. It seemed like of all places to spend the next year or so, this was a fine one. And imagine the recognition of making the first-ever log of every Pokémon in a region! And the more immediate praise for his knowledge on something so little known in these parts... What a rewarding adventure he'd embarked on.

Or so he thought. The excursion team he set out with the next day was the most nervous-looking he’d ever seen, and by the end of the day they’d only brought him a few specimens from a measly four species. It hadn’t occurred to Laventon until then, but Cyllene’s abra was the only Pokémon he’d seen in the village. Cyllene had mentioned in her letters that these people didn’t use Pokémon of their own and were just learning to use pokéballs, but he’d never expected them to be as naïve as they were. Laventon tried teaching the Survey Corps better methods, but it was slow going, especially with a teacher who had always been too clumsy to catch many Pokémon himself. And instead of proudly bringing new specimens to the villagers, he had to see them gawk at the pastures and listen to whispers from Jubilife of how the Survey Corps was a dangerous experiment and a waste of resources.

A month passed, and a hole opened up in the sky. No one knew why. It alarmed many. Laventon prayed that it would cause some sort of miracle that would solve their problems. None came.

A few weeks after the hole opened in the sky, Laventon was sitting at his desk, swirling the poison of a zubat in a test tube to separate its elements and determine its potency. That had been a good deal of his work in Hisui: testing poisons, bite strength, voltage, and so on from the same ten species that the Survey Corps was able to catch. Just as the elements were separated, Laventon heard the doors to the Galaxy Hall open. It was Rei, who was, not for the first time, coming back from camp with a distressed shinx squirming in his arms and shocking him with every couple feet he dragged it. Around the shinx’ back leg was a tight, painful snare that had been used to catch it. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one of the Survey Corps to have used such methods.

“Oh, no… Rei, what have I told you about using pokéballs?” Laventon said, running over.

“I’m- sorry- professor,” Rei said, his voice starting and stopping with each shock the feline Pokémon gave him.

Laventon untied the snare, receiving a few shocks himself, then took the Pokémon in his arms. “Let’s take this little one outside,” he insisted.

Once outside, Laventon guided them to an uncrowded area of town. “Alright, Rei. I’m going to put the shinx down, and I want you to send out your partner against it.”

With some hesitation, Rei tossed out the pikachu Laventon had arranged as his partner. The two pokemon squared each other up and began to tussle.

“Now throw the ball,” the Professor insisted once the shinx was beginning to tire out. Rei did. It hit the shinx, shook, then clicked shut with a spark.

“See how easy that was? There’s no reason to risk your safety doing it any other way than that,” Laventon said, still sounding a bit distressed even to himself.

Rei seemed to think this over, then shook his head. “pokéballs are fine for wurmples and bidoof and whatnot, but how is a hollowed-out rock and an apricorn supposed to protect me from something like that?”

“Rei… a pokéball isn’t a cage. All Pokémon could come out of them if they wanted. Unless you’ve put them asleep, a Pokémon who stays in the ball wants to be in it. And we want to eventually study all Pokémon in Hisui. How will you bring me Pokémon that could really hurt you if you don’t use Pokémon of your own?”

“Why would they want to be in a ball just because we beat them up a little? I don’t get it. And as for your second question…” Rei looked down. “I’m not sure, Professor. A lot of people are saying the Survey Corps will be broken up and reassigned soon.”

“Oh, come now. Where have you heard that?”

“Commander Kamado. I overheard him talking about it in the medical bay after the electrocution event last week.”

Laventon’s jaw dropped. If there was no more Survey Corps, he wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Jubilife anymore. As basic as the research here had been, he didn’t want to leave Hisui so soon, or in such a poor state. “I’m sure he’ll see reason eventually!” Laventon insisted, a very fake smile on his face. “After all, we have so many achievements behind us! Such as, well…”

Just then, Captain Cyllene walked up to the pair. “Professor Laventon. There you are. Join me to the Obsidian Fieldlands immediately,” she ordered.

“Oh. Got to go. I’ll see you soon, Rei.”

It then occurred to Laventon that the captain had met with Kamado that day. Was he about to be let go? But then, why do it out in the fieldlands? It wasn’t as though Cyllene was the type to shy away from delivering harsh news in front of others.

“Um, Captain?” Laventon said as the Jubilife Village gates shut behind them and two Security Corps members joined their party. “Is there a reason for the sudden excursion?”

“I will inform you of that when we arrive,” Cyllene replied.

After an anxiety-riddled hike, the party arrived at the encampment. Cyllene looked Laventon in the eye. “The Survey Corps is doing poorly,” she admitted. “We are not meeting our goals to make Hisui more traversable or to make Pokémon our work animals. Most of the village is still afraid of Pokémon, our team has twice the rate of injury of any other division, and many are doubting whether this is a good use of our resources.”

Laventon nodded solemnly, wondering when the next boat to Galar would arrive. “I understand.”

“Good,” Cyllene said, determination in her eyes. “We’re on the same page. Today, I want you to teach me everything you know about catching Pokémon for research. Tomorrow, I’m calling for an emergency excursion for the entire Survey Corps to help them implement your teachings. There’s no need for us to give up yet.”

“Wonderful!” Laventon said, and he meant it. It seemed like the ice was thin, but at least he had every chance to scramble off of it.

The next day, Cyllene ordered an expedition for every member of the Survey Corps, starting at the Fieldlands Camp.

“Every one of you is returning to the village tonight with six Pokémon, each of a different species," Cyllene announced once the group had arrived at camp and lined up before her. "Three of them will be research subjects for the professor, the other three will be your new teammates, and all of them will be caught in pokéballs."

Of the twelve survey corps members, half were attempting to put on a brave face. The rest, including Rei, were clearly nervous. “But… ma’am…” Rei said, “six species in one day is more than any of us have managed.”

“I would not have you do anything I was not prepared to do myself. Come along,” Cyllene replied, turning on her heel. She led the others into the field and then stopped abruptly, holding her arm out to signal that they should stop and be quiet. Before them was a bird of prey with a wingspan as large as a person was tall.

Cyllene carefully stepped towards it, scooped up some mud, and threw it, hitting the bird in the shoulder. It turned to her, screeching fiercely. Cyllene drew her sword and held it between herself and the bird.

“Pokémon respond to strength,” Cyllene explained, keeping her eyes on the bird. “What they want more than anything is an opportunity to use their power. Show them that you will present such an opportunity-”

The bird lunged at Cyllene. She tucked and rolled out of the way, picked up a rock, and threw it. The bird dodged out of the way and adjusted trajectory to lunge at her again. Cyllene threw a pokéball. It hit the bird on the forehead. In a flash of light, the bird entered the ball, which fell to the ground.

“Present such an opportunity, and they will want to stay with you,” Cyllene finished, again holding her sword between the ball and herself in case the bird popped out.

The ball shook once and then clicked shut. Cyllene picked up the ball and released the Pokémon from it, allowing it to perch on her forearm. “Are there any questions?” she asked, facing the rest of her team.

Laventon hesitantly raised his hand as the other members stayed silent. “Well… not so much a question as an addition…” he said.

“Go on,” Cyllene said.

Laventon made his way to Cyllene’s side and faced the others. “Everything the captain said is true, but don’t forget that Pokémon are also naturally companiable creatures! They’re not tools or enemies to be subdued. They want to be your friends and you should treat them as such!” he said, stroking the bird.

Cyllene nodded in agreement. “Yes. If we’re to live in peace on this land, we must learn to co-exist with its wildlife. We will want our relations to be positive.”

Laventon sighed in relief. It would be quite an intimidating task indeed if he had to convince Cyllene that Pokémon were friends!

“The professor will provide a Pokémon for each of you to begin your efforts with. The Pokémon will be weak, as we have only gathered weak Pokémon thusfar, but they’ll ensure that you will not be fighting wild Pokémon yourself and they will become stronger with use. Any weapons you are carrying are an absolute last resort. Keep your Pokémon in fighting condition if at all possible and return to the encampment if they are incapacitated. Now, move out. Each of you in a different direction.”

The ten survey corps members let out a chorus of “yes, ma’am’s” and set out, each stocking up on potions and revives, receiving a Pokémon from Laventon, and heading their separate ways.

“My, you have their respect!” Laventon exclaimed. “I see now why you wanted to demonstrate this yourself. A goofy foreigner like myself shows them time and time again how to use a pokéball and they still don’t trust it to protect them, but when it’s you, they hang on your every word!”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Cyllene replied. “The Galaxy Team has immigrants from several regions. We are quick to accept anyone who proves their worth. And Rei seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Laventon smiled. “Has he? Well! That’s delightful. So, do you have any name ideas for your new Pokémon? It looks to be a starly evolution, so something with ‘star’ in the name would be sensible, don’t you think?”

“Hmm… yes, I suppose it would. Once we get back to the Galaxy Hall, we’ll have to explore whether its power over the wind could be used to dry the ink on my paperwork.”

Laventon wanted to make a light jab at her about being too focused on her work, but before he could, Rei came running back. “Hey, Professor- before I set out, I was wondering if you could teach me a little about battling. There has to be more to it than just letting a Pokémon out, right?”

“That there is, Rei! I’d be happy to teach you.”

“Hm. I was going to stay a while in case there were any such questions, but it seems you have that under control. I will be off, then. I intend to make good on my promise to not to order the Survey Corps to do what I am not prepared to do myself.”

Cyllene put her sword in the camp’s lock box. Laventon nodded in understanding at the gesture- everyone else was to exclusively use their Pokémon as weapons that day and so would she. “Keep the lesson short,” she reminded.

“Will do!” Laventon said with a smile. “Happy hunting!”

Cyllene gave him a stiff nod and walked off, the yet-unnamed bird flying by her side. Laventon watched. How he wanted to talk to her more, and in a more casual capacity. She seemed like such a fascinating person, and yet he could only ever see her businesslike surface… at least now it seemed he’d get a chance.

[shelobussy]

ASH’S TMA HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF REC LIST 

For the gays. (And @damcrows who’s been dead for the past 24 hours. Rest in peace babe. Read some gay fic. Deny the inevitability of canon. <3)

___

the end, but the start (of all things that are left to do)  by @ajkal2

Jon wakes up.

aka. mag200 tore out my heart

(Very smol, very short, very spoiler. Def recommend for anyone who just finished the podcast.)

remind me how to smile by @tamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

(Yea this was in the last rec list, but you don’t understand THE ADMIRAL GIVES CUDDLES)

Chamomile by Dribbledscribbles

Whatever the ex-tea was, if it really had ever been that last bag of chamomile Martin claimed he’d found tucked in the back of the cupboard, it was fast now.

Martin had tried catching it, chasing it, blocking its way with shoebox lids and plates and an upended footstool, but the thing was just too quick. Jon knew as well as Knew that he might have left off the attempts completely if not for the creature’s preferred game.

The game was, See How Many Times I Can Push Martin Towards Cardiac Arrest Before He Comes at Me with The Broom.

(Scottish Honeymoon Era. Adorable and weird. A vampire gets harassed.)

hey stranger by @ennuijpg

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Martin runs into Jon at the grocery store and has an existential crisis.)

roses roses, roses. by @judesstfrancis

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses. 

(Canon enemies to friends to lovers au-ish. Martin POV. Very pining much sweet.)

go softly by doomcountry

And there is nothing else besides this. 

(More hurt/comfort than fluff. Scottish Honeymoon Era. Mild eye mutilation.)

Not Alone by @backofthebookshelf

After the coffin, Daisy and Jon are both fragile. They hold each other up. 

(Post-buried Jon&Daisy starter pack. Very hurt/comfort.)

trust my love by antlsepticeye

“you… you’re real, aren’t you?” jon whispers, the fog slowly dissipating from his mind. “it is not a trick?”

“i’m here,” martin says softly, reaching up to grab jon’s hand that was resting on his cheek, intertwining his fingers with jon’s and squeezing. he moves jon’s hand to martin’s chest, resting it over his heart. “you’re alright. i’m alright. take your time, love. let’s just take some deep breaths, okay?”

(TOUCHSTARVED JON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT.)

reaching out by Athina_Blaine

By the time things settled, when Martin had finally managed to crack through his cold shell, feel some of his old self returning to him in bits and pieces, they had found their little routine.

One that had the two of them sleeping in the same bed, making breakfast, going to the mart. Where Jon reached for his wrist while they slept, and Martin luxuriated in the gentle warmth of his fingers.  

But not one where Martin reached back. One that had Martin kissing Jon awake or taking his hand over the breakfast table, because ... Martin never had the courage to try. And then it never became a part of the routine.

And Martin desperately wanted it to be.

-

Martin and Jon have an important conversation.

(More Scottish Honeymoon Era for the soul. Hurt/comfort/fluff.)

Belabor by @janekfan​

Jon's given the position of Archivist and is falling apart at the seams. Tim and Sasha are upset and playing games. Elias is overbearing and manipulative.

And poor Martin is stuck cleaning up the mess.

(THEE first fic I ever read for tma. Season 1, hurt/comfort/fluff, and hints of Jmartin. janekfan is the absolute master of seasons 1-3 hurt/comfort. This is my favorite, but pls check out the rest of their fics.)

tea, blankets, and a damnable stubborn attitude by ivelostmyspectacles

“Are you really gonna stay here and pester Jon all evening?”

“I’m not pestering him,” Martin retorted, sounding vehement if not busy going through the cupboards. “I’m heating up soup.”

“Oh, you might as well make him another cup of tea while you’re at it.”

“Oh, good idea.”

Jon shot Tim a withering look.

(The one where Jon is ill, Martin makes tea and they watch doctor who together. Fluff 1000%.)

A Kind Hand by @voiceless-terror

Jonathan Sims was adjusting just fine, thank you very much.

In which a minor workplace spill causes Jon to realize that he might have friends.

(Ah yes, the other master of seasons 1-3 fic aka voiceless-terror being my other fav author in the fandom. This one is also season 1 hurt/comfort/fluff.)

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

(More touched starved Jon! Much hurt/comfort!)

Something Old, Something New by @cirrus-grey

Months have passed, and everyone is doing better than they were. Daisy and Basira are getting married, Melanie is feeling her old self, Georgie is as much herself as she has ever been, and even Jon has stabilized on his wild fall away from humanity. Everyone is doing better.

Well. Almost everyone.

(Daisy/Barsira wedding! Melanie is a bitch and we love her! Jmartin dance! Post-canon (almost) everyone lives!)

The Weight of Love by @voiceless-terror

Jon is a restless sleeper. Martin attempts to adjust. 

(The fic where Jon is literally me and Martin attempts to sleep for 1k words.)

The Art of Conversation by @voiceless-terror

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Jon has a complicated relationship with words. Difficulties come and go.

(Jon has adhd and Martin is in love.)

Novelty by @backofthebookshelf

Jon experiences A Sexual Attraction; Martin has A Concern. They figure it out.

(Any fic that explores the ace spectrum is a 10/10. We stan all ace interpretations of jon on this blog.)

Half a Hug by Dathen

I know you weren’t going to hurt me, I trust you, he said again and again. And then a different kind of fear shone through, hollow and echoing: “Please don’t stop touching me."

-

Or: Life is hard when you're touch-starved but have trauma related to your closest friend.  Spoilers through TMA 132.

(Honestly bless every author who saw jon&daisy and was like. They’re siblings. No I will not elaborate.)

the loneliness never left me (but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company) by Athina_Blaine

It was about Martin making Jon feel safe, treasured, and loved. And it had been so, so long since anyone made him feel that way.

And, in the face of it all, Jon was starting to flounder.

(At this point I just need to make separate rec list for Scottish Honeymoon Era.)

you can watch me corrode by scarletfish

"So, how long have you been pulling this shit then?"

"I… excuse me?" Jon’s indignant, certain she can’t mean what he thinks she means.

"When was the last time you ate?"

(Georgie decides Jon and Melanie need a normal day off. Jon learns that he and Melanie have more in common than he thought.)

(Look, Melanie isn’t my favorite person in tma, but she and Jon are like THE SAME PERSON and I adore fics that elaborate on their relationship.)

Out of the Wind, In From the Cold by @ostentenacity

There are two bedrooms in the safehouse, and two beds.

For a moment, Jon considers asking to share, but decides against it with a wince. “I really loved you,” Martin had told him. Loved. Past tense. And Martin doesn’t exactly have a lot of choices right now in terms of company; it would be cruel to demand he play at feelings he no longer has just to make Jon happy.

(For a moment, Martin considers asking to share. But he dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. Jon has already done so much for him. Martin isn’t about to ask for more, especially not when it’s something he doesn’t really need. He has his right mind back, and he has Jon’s friendship. That should be enough for him. It’ll have to be.)

---

Jon thinks that Martin doesn’t love him. Martin thinks that Jon doesn’t love him. They do not, of course, discuss this. Unrequited love is already awkward enough, right? No need to dwell on it.

(THEE SCOTTISH HONEYMOON ERA FIC. IT’S ABOUT THE PINING, BEING MUTUALLY OBLIVIOUS AND FALLING IN LOVE. 10000/10.) 

I Do by @voiceless-terror

“I, um- this was supposed to be a lot more romantic, I swear.” Martin looks down at the dirty bar floor. “I had it all planned out, I-I was going to take you somewhere nice, and then we’d go for a walk in the square- I’ll still do it!” He hurries to explain, as if that’s the most pressing part of this situation. “It’ll be really nice, I’ve already hired a photographer-”

In a fit of protectiveness, Martin proposes to Jon.

(Everyone lives, Martin accidentally proposes and Jon is crying in public.) 

________

#lmao follow for more fic recs #ash recs #ash's rec list #ash recs fics #tma fic list #tma fics #jmart #jmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma fic recs

[ghost-party]

hi~ o/ for your follower event, I'd like to request *covers Gojo's eyes* Sukuna on either Office Coworkers, or Villains prompt; whichever tickles your fancy more. (look at what your AU!Sukuna has done to me, requesting him instead of Gojo... I am going to go put myself in time out now). Grats on 200 again ♥ and thanks for doing something for us on it! ♥ ♥

Aww, thanks for the request! Your secret is safe with me. 😂🤐 Gojo never has to know!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, brief mention of losing parents/family, some spicy content A/N: Sukuna and the reader work at a company that produces corporate events. (That was my last experience working in an office, so... 🤷🏼‍♀️)

• • •

Sukuna + Office Coworkers

It’s your first day at your new job, and you’re currently hiding in a bathroom stall, certain that one of your coworkers already hates you.

When you arrived that morning, your boss walked you over to your cubicle, with its dual monitors, already-worn-out swivel chair, and short walls. She waved at the man sitting on the opposite side, hunched over his laptop.

“Sukuna! I want you to meet Y/N.” As she rattled off bland introductions, you barely heard a word, focused instead on the sharp gaze now locked onto yours.

At first glance, he was handsome, with a lean build, strong jaw, and dusty pink hair that somehow suited him. You also noticed a few empty piercing holes in his ear lobes.

But that expression... Why did he look so annoyed? You hadn’t even said anything yet. Maybe he was in the middle of something important, you reasoned, repeating the same cheerful “nice to meet you” you had given everyone else... only to be met with a soft grunt.

And it only seemed to get worse as the day went on. While you were on the phone with IT, going through the process of setting up your database login, you looked up and found Sukuna staring at you over the top of your joined cubicles, his eyes slightly narrowed.

When you tried to print your new hire forms and the paper jammed, there he was, standing behind you with a bored look on his face, uttering a simple, “Move,” before popping open the front of the machine and quickly resolving the issue.

At lunchtime, you both ended up in the kitchen, just the two of you, him microwaving something and you half-heartedly poking at your salad. Before you could even attempt benign conversation, he punched a finger at the keypad, removed his meal, and strode away without even sparing you a glance.

You stood there, feeling painfully awkward, until you managed to finish eating and retreat to the bathroom to calm your nerves.

Maybe he’s just not a people person, you think, biting your lip as you finally emerge from the stall and face yourself in the mirror. But the least he could do is be nice, right? Geez... Does he treat all the new hires like this?

After a short mental pep talk, you nod at yourself and make your way back to your desk. As you sit down, you avoid eye contact altogether, instead directing your attention to your email inbox.

Nearly half an hour passes before Sukuna asks, “Do you drink?”

You blink up at him. “I’m sorry...?”

His head is resting on his hand as he stares at you. “Do you drink? We usually take newbies to the bar across the street on the first day.”

“Uh... Yeah. That sounds nice.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgement and looks away — until you ask, “Who’s ‘we’? Everyone?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Whoever wants to come, but it’s usually the office events committee. We organize that kind of stuff.”

“You’re on the events committee?” The idea of this man planning birthday parties and fun, team-building activities is honestly baffling.

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No offense, but you just... don’t seem like the type.”

“And what type do I seem like?”

Before you can think better of it, you blurt out, “Rude.” Panic quickly sets in as you watch his eyes widen. But then... he laughs. It’s a low chuckle, but even just seeing his stern mouth lift into a smile fills you with a strange sense of relief.

“You’re honest. I like it.” He leans back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Sorry if I’ve been a dick today. I’m a bartender on the weekends. Had to stay late last night and didn’t get much sleep.”

“Oh.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m sunshine and rainbows on a good day,” he warns, sitting forward in his chair.

“Duly noted. It’s just nice to know you don’t hate me.”

“Yet.” He’s still smiling, but it’s a wicked, crooked thing that has your face heating up.

• • •

Over the next few months, as your division preps for events season, you spend more time working closely with Sukuna. You learn that there’s not a huge difference between him on a good day and him on a running-on-caffeine-and-no-sleep day. He doesn’t talk much in meetings, but his facial expressions say plenty — though you’ve learned that he sometimes looks annoyed when he’s really just... fine. It’s confusing, to say the least.

Along with his piercings, he has at least a few tattoos on his forearms. It’s hard to tell how many, since he keeps them covered while at work. But you noticed them while having dinner with the team one night. He sat beside you, sleeves rolled to his elbows, holding a frozen margarita as he argued with someone from sales about marketing list sizes. You think about the mental image more often than you care to admit.

You’ve collected small details about him. He’s been tending bar for almost eight years, mostly as a side gig. He has a bad temper, which is why he was drawn to a marketing position — not nearly as many phone calls and general human interactions as you have to deal with in event production. He lives with his younger brother, Yuuji, who’s enrolled at the local university. They’ve been on their own since Sukuna was seventeen.

“He’s a good kid,” he says. You two are taking a brief coffee break in the kitchen, leaning against opposite counters. “Decent grades, working part time... He even has a girlfriend.”

“Wow.” You sip your latte, wondering how to ask the question on your mind without being painfully direct. But what comes out instead is, “Do you have a girlfriend?” because apparently your brain hates you.

Sukuna shakes his head. “Finding someone who can put up with my shit? Easier said than done.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not that bad.”

He smirks at you. “Is that so?”

You shrug and turn around, busying yourself with pouring a refill as an excuse to hide your flustered expression. “I mean... You’re still pretty annoying.”

It’s only when you feel him standing behind you that you realize he’s moved. “Don’t mind me,” he murmurs, reaching above you to grab a plastic lid from the nearest cupboard, his chest just grazing your back. You can’t help but freeze, your heartbeat erratic as you watch his shirt sleeve slide back, giving you a glimpse of the black bands of tattoos encircling his wrist.

When he pulls away, snapping the lid onto his paper cup, you glance at him over your shoulder and he meets your gaze with a knowing smile. “Annoying, huh? I’ll take it.” And with that, he walks away, leaving you scrambling to figure out what just happened.

• • •

“So... What do you think?” You swirl the ice in your glass and nudge Sukuna with your shoulder. “Your first live event.”

“I hate it.”

You’re both sitting at the hotel bar, having finally escaped the welcome reception upstairs. Although marketers don’t usually travel to your company’s events, a team member’s sudden illness left you in a lurch. Sukuna had begrudgingly agreed to accompany you to help with on-site prep and operations.

“Somehow I knew you’d say that.” You take a sip of your drink, already feeling pleasantly buzzed. “Is it the pushy attendees, the boring presentations, or the thrilling nightlife?” You gesture around at the exclusively 50+ clientele, along with the stuffily-ornate lobby full of classic artwork, antique carpeting, and gold everything.

“Yes.” You laugh, and when you look up at Sukuna, he’s staring at you thoughtfully. “But the company’s not too bad.”

“You should put that on the post-event survey.”

“Definitely ‘exceeds expectations.’” He drums his fingers against the bar top. “My room’s not bad, though.”

“‘Not bad’?” you tease. “I made sure you got the nicest one in the staff block.” When he looks surprised, you glance away. “It’s the least I could do — as a thank you for coming.”

Sukuna chuckles. “You’re always too nice to me. Might give me the wrong idea one of these days.”

Your grip tightens on your glass. “Or the right one...”

When you end up in his room, the both of you fumbling to unbutton and remove clothes as you kiss, his mouth soft yet insistent against yours, you tell yourself this is enough. As he pushes you down onto the bed, strong arms caging you in as he bites and sucks the tender skin between your neck and shoulder, you tell yourself this doesn’t need to be anything serious.

But afterwards, when his hard, lean body curls languidly around you, bare skin warm and smooth against your own, it’s hard not to imagine more — waking up beside him every morning, having breakfast together, straightening his usually-crooked tie while he pokes fun at you... You want all of it. 

For now, though, you settle for his deep, steady breaths and the way he sleepily pulls you closer, arms tight around you.

• • •

When you wake up the next morning, Sukuna is propped up beside you, dark eyes unreadable.

“Watching me sleep?” you ask, voice slightly hoarse as you roll over to look at the clock beside the bed. Six o’clock. Plenty of time to get ready for another day of work.

“Creepy, I know.” His tone is flat, but he looks gentler than usual, with his bed head and placid expression. In the early morning light, you can see the full extent of his tattoos, bold, wide lines that trace across his body. They suit him, but you can’t put your finger on why.

“Look, can we... talk? About last night?”

You stiffen, mentally preparing yourself for what comes next. 

“This was fun, but we’re better off as friends.” “We can do this again, but I’m not interested in anything serious.” “This was a mistake. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

But instead, what Sukuna says is, “This wasn’t just sex for me. I’m not really into that. Well, not anymore...” He runs a hand through his hair. “I, uh... Like you?” It comes out as a question, and his brow furrows, looking agitated. “I’m fucking this up.”

He must not expect your laugh, because his eyes widen at the sound. But you’re just so relieved. “I like you, too, dumbass.”

“Dumbass?” He playfully shoves at you. “So romantic.”

“What, you’re gonna change your mind?”

His hand moves from your shoulder to your face, stroking your cheek. “Nah... I knew what I was getting into. But the romantic thing... I think I can fix that.”

“Oh yeah?”

He grins. “You. Me. The huge, fancy bathtub. Room service. Does having mimosas with breakfast count as drinking on the job?”

You turn your head and press a kiss to his palm. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“You’re bad,” he growls, leaning over you, his breath warming your upturned lips. “When did that happen?”

“When I met this guy. He’s smart, sexy, kind of a jerk —” The rest of your words dissolve into a breathy gasp as he kisses you, teeth nipping against your bottom lip.

“Yeah, yeah... Less talking, hm? Now, how about that bath?”

#200 followers event #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #au sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

[bruhlsbees]

second chance ; 1/5 || writer!daniel x fem!artist!reader

(gif credit to @/magsam)

summary: you continue to dwell on your past as you prepare to open your art gallery

warnings: daniel's boss is a little creepy - like flirty but in power creepy, idk how to tag that, nothing bad happens she just obvi wants in his pants (but don't we all), 18+ although no smut

word count: 6,637

pairing: writer!daniel x fem!artist!reader

a/n: here's my soft fic!! please enjoy!! :) also i should note that writer!daniel is based around sebastian from ich und kaminski - i just changed the name to daniel, but really only loosely based so that's why i'm not considering this to be a sebastian fic!

He woke to the lull sound of music being played in the shop below his flat. With a groan, he pulled his head from under the pillow, squinting at the sun that peeked through his curtains before turning towards the clock on his nightstand.

12:17 PM

Another groan left him as his face fell back into the pillows. He had to be at work by one and he wasn’t even out of bed - and he should be on the road leaving in thirteen minutes! This, however, was not uncommon for Daniel - he was often late, running behind from sleeping off his hangover or just simply not caring enough to pick up his feet and move quicker.

He was half tempted to call off, tell his boss that he had a relative that passed or that he was ill.

“I thought your great-aunt just recently passed away?” Daniel’s boss questioned over the phone, her tone more annoyed than confused. He could hear the restaurant clatter through the phone, indicating that it was a rather busy day.

“Yes, that was on my mother’s side, this one is on my father’s,” He picked up a pair of socks off the ground to see if they were clean or at least passed the smell check. “Tragic, I’m not sure what I’m going to do without them.”

He sniffed the socks and threw them away from his face in the same motion, holding back the cough as he shook the smell out of his nose. Daniel knew he had been putting off laundry for too long, the clear evidence being the pair of socks he mistakenly picked up.

Moving to the bathroom to take a shower and get around for the day. Daniel kept his cellphone pressed to his ear, held by the crook of his shoulder while he waited to hear what his boss would say to him.

“Fine,” She finally responded after a moment. Her tone was short, biting like a sting, “But I expect you back on your next shift. We can’t afford to keep losing waiters.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Opening up the medicine cabinet he grabbed his deodorant stick, swiping it a few times under each armpit before feeling satisfied enough to move on, “I’ll be there.”

When he heard the click he swiftly let his phone drop from his shoulder, catching it with his hand before setting it on the top of the toilet next to his sink, continuing to get ready for the day. Even though he wasn’t going into work today, he could still at least get ready instead of basking away in his own stench from the previous night.

Finally pushing himself out of bed after laying for another few minutes, Daniel rummaged through the clothes on the floor, finding the cleanest uniform out of the dirty clothes before tossing them on his bed, moving to the bathroom to get ready. When he got to the bathroom, he nearly cringed at the sight of him.

It was quite obvious that he had a long night, the dark circles around his eyes screamed that he didn’t sleep well and his hair was matted to his head. He couldn’t remember who he had over, or what her name even started with. Was it an s? Sienna? Sierra? Sally? Who fucking cares.

He did a half-assed job brushing his teeth, more so focused on just getting the taste of whiskey out of his mouth so that nobody assumed he was drunk on the job. He already got let go from another job for that.

After the taste was most of the way out, Daniel quickly rinsed his face off and pulled his hair back into a low bun. He didn’t look bad - but it was clear that he had a rough night.

Surprisingly he was out of the door sooner than he imagined. Ascending down the stairs, he made sure to have his steps extra heavy to piss the store owners under him off. A smirk was present on Daniel’s face when he jumped one by one down the final few steps, hearing the store owner yell for him to ‘bugger off’ from inside.

“Kiss my ass.” Daniel mumbled, pushing the door open before making his way onto the sidewalk, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket and lighter, sparking the stick as he made his way down the road to work.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Everything felt so off, yet so right. Something was missing, but you couldn’t pin what it was just yet. The gallery exceeded your expectations - Vee exceeded your expectations, she always seemed to go above and beyond when it came to your work.

“And how does she like it? Do we get her seal of approval?” The museum’s art curator questioned, standing off to the side so that you and Vee could take it all in.

He was a short man, the rectangle frames glasses that were a bright orange that matched with his orange suit. You wondered if perhaps the glasses were real, or were they fake and more of a fashion statement? Did he have a matching pair of glasses for each outfit?

You didn’t realize how out of it you were until you felt Vee nudge you, answering for the curator.

“She loves it, do forgive her, she’s just taken back is all.” Vee explained, smiling towards the curator as he nodded, relief washing over him as he continued to showcase the room in the museum that was dedicated to your work.

You let out a sigh and trailed behind Vee. You felt bad for not being so animated, but you couldn’t help it - you just weren’t in the best mental spot right now. It was quite obvious too, at least to everyone around you. When the three of you reached the back of the gallery, the curator turned and pulled his lips into a tight smile.

“Well, if there is anything else we can do before your opening, please, let us know,” He turned to Vee and bowed her way in goodbye, “You have my number, just call if there is anything.” He turned on his heels and made his way out of the room, his footsteps echoing until he left and then...nothing.

You let out a soft exhale and sat down on the bench that was placed in front of the back wall, staring up at a few of your paintings. Your shoulders were slacked, a frown on your face as you toyed with your bracelet that was on your left wrist, twirling the string around your fingers. Moving around the bench, Vee took a seat beside you, letting her purse fall to the ground at her feet, looking up at your pieces.

“If this isn’t something you want to do anymore, I can let him know,” She began, your head shooting up, looking at her with wide eyes, “He won’t be pleased, but I suppose it’d be better to hear from me than you.” She stated, eyes flickering from one painting to the next.

You shook your head, shocked that Vee would even suggest canceling the opening. What made her think that? Did she think you didn’t want this anymore? No, of course you wanted this, this was something you’ve dreamt about since you were a little girl.

“What are you saying, Vee? Of course I want this still, you’ve worked so hard and did such a wonderful job with this, I wouldn’t want to have all your hard work go to waste.” You explained, looking towards her now. She smiled, staring at the painting off to her right before turning her head the other way towards you.

“My dear, this isn’t about me. This is about you. My job is to get you where you need to be and make your dreams come true. I won’t be upset if you change your mind. We can wait to open your gallery, wait until next year or this winter perhaps. Whatever you wan-”

“I want this. I just-” You let out a sigh and dropped your head again, looking at your feet for a moment before back up at the wall, tears in your eyes, “I just thought it would be different, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” Vee questioned, her left hand resting on your back, her right on your hands, squeezing them. You didn’t know how to put it into words, and that was the issue. You didn’t know why you felt the way you did, or where it came from. The room wasn’t empty, yet at the same time, something was missing.

“I just, something is missing...and I can’t figure out what it is,” You began, standing up from your spot on the bench and circling it, looking now from the back towards the front of the gallery. “When I come into this room, I want to love it, I do love it, but something just isn’t right about all of it. It feels incomplete, but what is missing?”

Nodding slowly, Vee let out a sigh and stood up, picking her purse from the floor and swinging it over her before walking over to you, standing beside you as she joined you in staring at the work you’ve created in the room.

“You want to know what I see in this room? A young, talented woman who has spent the last fifteen years making something of herself,” She began, her voice quiet, like a grandmother’s gentle tone. “A woman who went from nothing to having a large home, a gallery space, yet at the same time, a woman who doesn’t feel complete because she is still living in past regret.”

You glanced away from her at the last part of her speech. It wasn’t that you were hiding your tears from her, but she was right, and you were a fool to still be living in the past.

When she continued, your head faltered back to its original position, looking straight ahead. This was supposed to be your day, yours, and yet even after everything, Daniel was still the one on your mind...the one who still controlled your emotions and work.

“I don’t mean to be brash, dear, but if he wanted to make an appearance in your life, he would have done it by now. It’s time you put that past away and look towards the future,” Wrapping her arms around you, Vee pulled you close, extending her left hand out to motion around the room, “Think of all that you’ve done without him. Is he truly the one you wish to have by your side when you open your gallery? The one who didn’t want this for you in the first place?”

By this point you were crying, silently weeping in Vee’s arm as she gave you a hard reality check. It was true, all of it, why were you still hung up on him? For all you knew he had moved on himself - living with a pretty wife and a couple kids with a backyard and porch. You made it this far without him, and damn did you do a good job, so why were you still holding out on the chance that he would show up? Were you still that much in love with him?

“Sweet girl, it’s time to move on from him. He’s caused you enough pain. Look at how much you’ve done, truly, look around,” You opened your eyes and looked around the room, smiling weakly at all your work, “Never have I worked with someone as talented as you. The past five years have been a pleasure and I just want you to be proud of what you’ve done.”

“I am,” You whispered, looking at Vee now. You knew there were tears running down your cheeks as you could feel them, dripping from your jaw and onto your shirt. You sniffled and wiped your cheeks dry before letting out a sigh, “You’re right. I need to stop letting him ruin my day. This gallery, it’s beautiful! I should go and tell the curator he’s done an excellent job. I’m sure he thinks by now I’m either stuck up or a bitch...probably both!”

You laughed with Vee, leaning in as she kissed your temple before patting your back once, “I don’t think you should worry too much about that. I’m sure he’s probably dealt with worse drama queens,” She began to lead you out of the gallery, her arm still wrapped around you, “Come on, how about we go get a pastry and head home, yes?”

Nodding, you kept your own arm wrapped around her, following her out of the museum and to your lift that you had taken that day. The city was beautiful, but you were ready to retire back to the countryside where your home was.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

He had made it into work exactly four minutes late, and his boss was at the door waiting for him with a scowl on her face. She was a mean bitch, Teresa, his boss - thin and blonde, always a stern look on her face like she ate something bad. She was his height, which only made arguments worse. Teresa liked to find your weakness and make that her target.

Daniel was rather confident, not taking much heat and just letting it roll off his back, but he was shorter, average, but still short. Standing at only five feet nine inches, Daniel knew quite a few women who were his height, if not taller. So when it came to him and Teresa yelling in the kitchen at the restaurant, she always seemed to find a way to stand herself up to seem taller than he was, making her both look and feel like the alpha.

Tucking the fallen pieces behind his ears, Daniel sighed and went to grab an apron that was hanging up beside the time clock where Teresa was standing.

“Sorry, traffic was busy.” He stated, going to punch in his work number. Before he could, Teresa stepped to the side in front of it, hands on her hips as she blocked him from clocking in. He took a quick step back before running into her, eyes furrowed together. “Um, is there something-”

“You’re late,” She pointed out, as if he didn’t already know. She moved her hands from her hips and to cross over her chest, her breasts pressing together causing Daniel to swallow, eyes looking ahead of him at the time clock. “If we weren’t so desperate for staff, you’d be out of here.”

It took everything for Daniel to not roll his eyes at the comment, shuffling in his spot as he became fidgety, wanting to get away from Teresa and go to work. This wasn’t the first time she had cornered him before - taunting him with her breasts and charm, making him sweat through his uniform.

No, of course he didn’t think she was hot - well, maybe, but she was a bitch. A stone cold bitch who wouldn’t be getting anywhere near his pants. That promise he would keep. He’s had his fair share of questionable hookups, but Teresa the Tyrant would not be one of them, no matter how hard she tried.

“Are you sure it's we and not you?” He toyed, his eyes flicking over towards her. He held back his smirk when her arms fell, mouth gaping before she glared and moved out of the way.

“Get to work,” She ordered, moving out of the way and into the office that was beside the timeclock, in the back of the kitchen. “And I’m docking this!”

“And I’m docking this!” Daniel mimicked, making a face as he mumbled to himself, punching into work and grabbing an apron, wrapping it around him before heading through the kitchen and to the main seating area to start waiting on his section.

The two other waitresses, Kali and Lana, were already working, moving tables around for what looked to be a big party coming in. The restaurant Daniel worked at was rather nice, more formal than most around town, so most people came to the restaurant if they were looking for something special. The host, Will, at the front sighing in relief at the sight of Daniel walking in.

“Finally! Thank God you’re here!” Will began, handing Daniel his things frantically, “We got a huge party coming in. Teresa just sprung it on us when we opened,” Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed, stuffing the pens and orderbook in his pocket, trying to keep up with Will, “Whole party booked the restaurant. It’s just us four tonight. Party is almost reaching forty-”

“Forty? Forty people? And four waiters? What the hell was Teresa thinking?” Part of Daniel wished he had called in, but the four of them were a good team, he couldn’t bail on them. Tucking his hair behind his ears as it fell in his face, he sighed and shook his head, “What do I need to do before they get here?”

Will seemed to relax a bit when Daniel offered to help, wrapping the last bit of silverware before handing the basket to Daniel, “Set the tables. They’re sitting at four tables, ten each. We each get a table and their food is being cooked now so hopefully everything goes smoothly.”

Nodding, Daniel took the silverware, shifting the basket to sit on his hip before moving to the tables, “Yeah, hopefully.”

It didn’t take long to get ready, most of the work already being done before Daniel had clocked in. After the tables were set up and the four of them did some last minute cleaning, the guests soon began to come in, sitting in their assigned spots - the restaurant growing loud quickly.

As the oldest waiter, and the one with the most experience, Daniel didn’t stress too much about his table, focusing on Kali and Will who were the youngest of them, only in high school. He noticed Kali was especially having a hard time balancing all the food on the tray, wobbling as she went to sit it down to begin passing them out. He knew this night couldn’t get any worse, but Hell, Teresa really did throw them a curveball.

When Daniel was refilling glasses, he couldn’t help but grow curious, what was this all about? What were so many fancy rich pricks doing here?

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion?” Daniel asked, doing his best to sound charming rather than nosey. He smiled down at the group at the end of the table he was at, watching as they paused from their conversations to turn to Daniel.

The one man, who turned his nose at the sight of Daniel, scoffed and adjusted his posture in his seat, “Oh you don’t know? Well, if you must know, we’re a group of art collectors,” He pulled out the flyer from his suit pocket and handed it to Daniel, who took it and began unfolding it as he continued, “There’s a new art gallery opening. We plan on going and potentially buying some of her pieces.”

Nodding, Daniel continued to listen until they began to ramble about rich people things that rich people talked about. Reading over the flyer, he recognized the art museum. It was a rather posh one, one that had famous art pieces that people would travel from all over to see. This artist must have been a rather big deal to be having a pop-up in the art museum.

It was the style of art he recognized first. He had seen it before. Where he couldn’t put his finger on, but he knew he had seen the art before. Reading over the name didn’t help either - Cassie Kane?

“Cassie Kane? Like Citizen Kane? What is that, some sort of pen name?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the name, finding it to be ridiculous. He was a writer - well, aspiring writer. He always found pen names to be rather odd, not something he was ever a fan of.

The table laughed at his joke, but Daniel knew that it wasn’t what he said that was funny, but him in general. Rich people always liked to laugh at the waiters, finding whatever came out of their mouth to be funny - as if they were their dancing monkeys.

“You’ve seriously never heard of her? Come now, she’s one of the most aspiring artists right now! It’s not everyday you see someone so young and talented open up a gallery of their own work, let alone in such a famous museum!” This time it was the woman beside the man who spoke, baffled at Daniel’s lack of knowledge in the so-called ‘Cassie Kane’.

“Forgive me, I’m a writer, not much of an artist.” He explained, pulling his lips into a thin smile. His patience was growing weak with these upper-class snobs and his feet were sore. All he wanted to do was go home, smoke a few cigarettes, have some drinks, and pass out on his couch.

“Well, nobody knows much about her. Like I said, she’s young. From what I hear though, she lives in a manor that was passed down to her by a great-aunt or something. I believe she took care of her before her death and her aunt gave her the house,” Another woman said, sipping her champagne before continuing, “A single woman, all alone in that big house. No wonder she has all those paintings, poor girl probably has nothing better to do.”

They erupted into laughs at the woman’s comment, the woman’s own laugh sounding far too similar to a donkey for Daniel to keep his composure, sipping their drinks and continuing on with other conversations.

Before Daniel could finally escape though, giving up all interests on even trying to talk with his table - the original man quickly reached out to Daniel as he turned to leave, pulling at his apron to gain his attention.

“You asked her name, yes well, she’s actually from here. That’s why we’ve stopped by. We wanted to get a look around her hometown before travelling to see what inspired her pieces. Here! I have a photo actually.” The man dug his photo out of his pocket and unlocked it, searching on Google for the artist before pulling up a picture, handing his phone to Daniel who took it, holding it in front of him.

“She’s the one on the far left,” He explained, “In the red.”

Scanning through the line of people, Daniel nearly dropped the man’s phone when he finally reached the artist. He knew he had seen the art from somewhere, and who left town to become an artist? He should have known - it was the only person who he could have thought of. You, you were Cassie Kane.

“You must have known her? She’s about your age! Did you go to school with her?”

The questions became far too much for Daniel, who all but cowered back, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them, “Um, no, sorry, I don’t,” He lied, clearing his throat, “Must have been in different classes than me.”

“Well she’s opening up the invitations to everyone in town. Free admission if you show that you live in town. Perhaps you should go - check the gallery out for yourself and broaden your horizons a bit. Whole town is rather dense from what I’ve seen. No wonder she’s letting you all come for free.”

And after three painfully long hours of listening to the rich snobs joke and whine and bicker, Daniel finally had enough. With a smile, Daniel let out a mocking laugh, pathetically sounding like a snob before his face fell, his table - and the others as well, falling to silence.

“If I wanted to broaden my horizons, I’d go to the zoo, at least there I can enjoy what I’m looking like,” He turned to the woman who had originally spoken up after the man - who’s laugh sounded far too much like a donkey, smiling wickedly down at her, “That reminds me, I heard they’re opening a petting zoo in town - maybe you can go and say hi to the rest of your cousins for me. What exactly do donkeys eat by the way? I’m curious to know.”

He let out a whine line a donkey, mocking the woman before leaning over the table and reaching for the champagne bottle in the ice bucket, pulling the cork off with his teeth and spitting it back out down the table. At this point the whole room was silent, watching as Daniel finally cracked.

When he noticed everyone was staring, after drinking a healthy amount from the bottle, he let out a sigh and let the champagne run down his beard and onto the front of his shirt, hiccuping.

And without another word he made his way lazily from the dining room and through the kitchen, sipping on the bottle until he made it to the back of the kitchen, pushing open Teresa’s door and tossing his apron at things at her, watching as they bounced off her and onto the floor.

“What the he-”

“I quit,” Daniel said, cutting her off. When she looked at him confused, and of course pissed like always, he could only smile and brave it, “I quit. Don’t bother docking me because I’m not coming back. Better yet, don’t even bother paying me today,” He looked down at the champagne bottle and waved it at her, “Consider this my tip.”

And before she could get another word out, he turned and headed out of her office, smirking to himself as he listened to her scream for him to get back as he left the restaurant, heading through the filled parking lot, and back to his apartment.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After dinner that night, alone in your study like most, you attempted to work on your laptop, going through emails in hopes of maybe finding something that was worth your wild. To your avail, however, nothing jumped out at you.

It was all the same - the coupons from the candle store you liked, the newspaper from your hometown you still followed, and the countless number of spam emails that seemed to always flood your inbox.

Slamming your laptop shut, you let out a huff and fell back into your seat, looking around your office. Your hands found your face and you ran them up and down, groaning before letting your body go slack, arms draped over the arm rests as you twisted side to side in your chair.

For such a busy woman, life often felt lonely to you. Living in your great-aunt’s old manor didn’t help either. The ghosts of those who lived before you seemed to be the only friends you had.

That, and the animals you had out back.

Pushing yourself up from your chair, you made your way out of the office and down the hall, going down the grand staircase. Your slippers scuffed across the floor as you made your way through the hall and into the breakfast nook, opening the door that led outside into the backyard. You had quite a few animals - the acres in your backyard reserved strictly for the farm animals that your great-aunt had before she passed.

Vee suggested that you send them off to someone else, seeing as though you were a busy woman who didn’t need the extra stress of animals. But you couldn’t do that to them, this was their home, more of their home than your own. You made it work, getting up early to feed them and take care of them before work that day and then spending evenings, like tonight, with them.

Opening the gate that secured the perimeter for them, so they wouldn’t wander outside of their area and onto the road to get hit, making your way into the fenced area. Most of the animals were already tucked away for bed, the occasional moo from one of the cows echoing across the hills. You didn’t mind though, sometimes coming in was more for you than it was for them. It helped get your mind off things.

Sitting on the stool you kept out for milking the cows, you rested your elbows on your knees, your chin on your hands. You knew it was rather ridiculous to be sulking so much - being such a successful aspiring artist with a manor and so much that many didn’t - but what nobody seemed to realize was how lonely you were. God, did you know it - you reminded yourself everyday.

But it wasn’t that you were appreciative of all that you had, no, you were more than thankful - but everyone had their one wish in life, and yours - still to this day even after everything, was that by some miracle Daniel would come back, that he would show up at your door on his hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness.

Vee reminded you daily that your dream wasn’t good for you.

“If he loved you as much as you like to say he did...why isn’t he here now? Why has he been gone for the last decade and a half? That doesn’t seem like the man who deserves you, let alone crying over.”

She was right though - he wasn’t worth your time of day.

Letting out a sigh, you wiped away the stray tears before the ‘baah’ from one of the goats made you jump, turning back to see one of the babies prancing your way, a smile growing on your face. It was late, and the mischievous goat should have been sleeping.

“And what are you doing up?” You scolded playfully, much like a mother would to their own child. You watched the baby goat sprint at you the last few feet, butting it’s head into your leg before pawing at the ground to get your attention, wanting to be lifted.

“Oh come here,” Bending down, you lifted up the baby goat and held them in your arms, watching as they got comfortable before tucking their head in the crook of your arm. “Which one are you, hmm?”

Twisting the collar your way, you looked at the name tag and smiled.

“Marlene, hello there sweet girl. What are you still doing awake? I believe it’s past your bedtime.” You heard the muffled ‘baah’ from under your arm and stroked her back, keeping her held in your arms while you enjoyed the moment.

Rocking her gently, you listened as she soon lulled into a sleep, your own head bobbing slightly as you grew tired yourself. Leaning back against the fence pole, you let out a yawn, adjusting so the wood wasn’t digging directly into your spine before your petting slowed.

“Just a minute...I’ll put you up in just a minute.” You whispered, your head falling back as you entered your sudden slumber.

Although your minute became minutes, then hours, until you woke to the erupting sounds of all the animals around you, growing impatient for breakfast. Groaning, you sat up, your back painfully stiff as you cracked your eyes open, looking around to see the animals eyeing you, running rampant as they waited for their food.

“Shit!” You hissed, standing up, stumbling as you lost balance before rushing around to get everyone fed for the day. God, did you really fall asleep out here? How tired were you? You must have been rather tired, seeing as though you slept on a stool propped against the fence post all night.

Thankfully though it didn’t take long, doing your regular morning chores until you were finally able to head back inside, or rather trudging back inside. Your body was painfully sore and while you slept a while, it was a rather shit sleep.

When you made it through the breakfast nook, into the hallway to go back into your room, you stopped at the sight of Vee who was coming down the stairs, looking for you.

“There you are! I looked everywhere for you, did you forget that we were supposed to meet with some of the other museum directors tod-” She paused, nose turning and she sniffled the air, “What is that smell?”

“Me, probably,” You stated, watching as Vee looked at you confused, before you motioned behind you, “I fell asleep out back last night...just woke up actually. I’m sorry, I’ll go get ready an-”

But before you could leave and go get ready for the day, Vee held out her hand, stopping you before pulling out her phone, texting with one hand while you waited patiently, swaying slightly as you still woke up. When you heard the noise from her phone signaling she had sent a text to someone, she lowered her hand and smiled.

“Vee, you didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry I-”

“Please, look at you. Better yet, smell yourself. You reek! Go take a shower and come back down. I’m craving a mimosa. You and I will get breakfast together, think you need a break from all the museum directors breathing down your neck.”

You could only smile, nodding towards Vee before going in for a hug, stopping suddenly when she took a step back. “After your shower. I’m not letting you stink me up too.”

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and made your way up the stairs, throwing your clothes off and into your laundry basket before heading into your bathroom to take a quick shower for the day.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

As much as yesterday was odd for Daniel, the new day had been even more odd. He wasn’t expecting much - maybe a phone call from his boss about his outburst yesterday - in fact, Daniel might have rather had that, then what he had been going through all morning.

“So let me get this straight...you want me to take your grandfather to the art gallery? I don’t see why you can’t just do it, Will.” Daniel explained, standing near his t.v. stand while Will, the kid from the restaurant, sat on his couch beside his grandfather, and Kali, the other girl from the restaurant, sat on his other side.

It would take a bigger idiot than Daniel to believe the mask he was wearing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give the man a ride and earn a few extra bucks, given how he was now out of a job, he just wasn’t ready to face you again.

“I got school. Remember? I’m only in high school still. Kali can’t cause she doesn’t have her license yet,” Will explained, shrugging his shoulders before motioning to his grandfather, who looked to be falling asleep, “Besides...he wants to go see an old student - that old student just so happens to be the girl you’re still obviously in love with-”

“Hey now, Will, I appreciate it...but I’m not still in love with her. That’s in the past, and I’ve moved on.” But had he? Had he really moved on?

Frowning, Will nodded and looked down, Kali glancing towards him before standing up, making her way to Daniel. Grabbing onto his arm, Kali smiled weakly at Daniel.

“Maybe if you don’t wanna go and see her, just go to appreciate the art? Who knows, maybe there will be a story there worth writing about? This could be your big break!” Kali suggested, trying to convince Daniel in any way she could to go. “Besides...you’re out of a job now, what exactly are you doing that’s keeping you from going?”

Opening his mouth, Daniel went to say something before realizing what the kids were doing - they were trying to help him out, cause after all...teenagers seemed to know more than he did.

Kali was right, even if he went and didn’t run into you, there could be a potential story there, something he could write about. That, and Daniel did always get along well with his high school art teacher, so maybe this wouldn’t be all that bad? It’d be good for him to get out of town.

Sighing, Daniel looked at Kali one last time before back at Will, then his grandfather who was now snoring on his couch, “Fine...I’ll take him. But if you guys are trying to set something up, you’re wasting your time. That’s in the past-”

He was surprised to feel the sets of arms wrap around him in a hug. Laughing lightly, Daniel awkwardly patted Kali and Will’s back. “Guys...come on now, you offer a bum cash and it’s going to take a lot for him to refuse.”

Feeling Kali pinch his side, Daniel jumped back, yelping before watching the two laugh now, Will’s grandfather now waking up and looking around, as if he were trying to figure out where he was at. Okay, so maybe taking care of him wouldn’t be all that fun, but it couldn’t be all that bad? Right?

“So, when do we leave?” Daniel asked, watching Will and Kali help his grandfather up before making their way to the door.

“Tomorrow morning. If you leave at six, you’ll get there by four - give or take traffic - we already have your room booked so you just have to check in once you get there.” Will explained, opening the front door to begin heading down the steps and outside.

Following the trio, Daniel helped in any way he could with getting the old man down the steps, making sure he didn’t slip and fall. When they finally got outside and loaded him into the passenger seat of the car, Daniel took a step back, eyes furrowed.

“Wait...six in the morning? Jesus...I haven’t got up that early since-”

“Since the Christmas banquet breakfast that you were late for, yes, we know,” Kali stated, shutting the passenger door before turning to look back up at Daniel, “Just...wake up on time. Will and I will be over here just about that time on our way to school. So just be ready, okay?”

Nodding, Daniel let out a huff and pushed his hair back, “Yeah, yeah, I can do that...you know I’m the adult here, right? You guys really like to boss me around, huh?” When he felt Kali hug him again, he could only soften, hugging her back. “I’ll be up, just - don’t expect a whole lot out of me on this. I’m getting him there and back, that’s it.”

“Totally, and if you so happen to fall back in love with the girl you can’t seem to get over, then that’s all the better.” Will noted, helping Kali in the backseat before getting in the car himself.

Shaking his head, Daniel made his way to the left side of the car, looking at Will and Kali, “Hey, how did you guys even find out about her? I mean...I’ve never brought her up before.”

“Well after yesterday’s incident, Kali and I looked her up and found some old photos of you guys from high school. I knew you went to our school so I asked my grandfather about you guys and, well, he told us the rest. It was Kali who suggested you go.” Will explained, motioning to the backseat towards Kali who was grinning.

Kali was a sweet girl, who was maybe a little too obsessed with love stories - but Daniel couldn’t deny their obvious findings. Especially after yesterday, they were right to assume some pushed down feelings of his.

Daniel could only hope that if he got the courage, he’d be able to tell you how he felt, how sorry he was after all these years. But after all these years, would you even want to hear what he had to say?

#second chance #au!daniel #daniel brühl #writer!daniel #au #modern #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl x you #daniel brühl imagine #daniel brühl smut #minors dni

[glassartpeasants]

Lovely

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, 

A/N: (edit) To all that have seen the first authors note, don’t mind it. I was supposed to finish this awhile ago but never got around to it until now. But yes crying in the club is still going on it’s just on hiatus. But i promise its not going to be as long as the Hero wannabe hiatus. So either way enjoy it lol

~~~

You were no idiot, you saw the way he looked at her. Hearts in his eyes, stutters on his words, face red. All the tell tale signs of someone falling in love. It would have been sweet and cute if the person wasn’t your boyfriend.

Distance. That’s how it’s always been. No matter what you did you could never get Shigaraki to fully trust you. It was a struggle to even convince him to be your boyfriend and it was even more of a struggle to see people get way closer to him then you ever could. It hurt. You would make him food, give him gifts and everything under the sun cause you loved him. Honestly you feel like the only reason he said yes was out of pity. And that hurt even worse.

So you just watched. Watched as your boyfriend fall in love for another. You tried asking him about it and all he said was ‘it doesn’t matter, calm down jesus.’ which didn’t give you much comfort.

“Am I really that annoying?” You thought as you looked at your phones lock screen. Showing a picture of you and Shigaraki together. Normally looking at this picture would make you happy. But once getting a closer look, you see the reflection in his eyes as he stared at something while you took the picture. You try to get a closer look and let out a little sob once you saw the familiar body shape of the woman that Shigaraki wanted.

You open your phone and go to gallery. Immediately deleting said picture. You wanted one that just had you two in it. One where you both looked genuinely happy. Searching, searching, and searching only for nothing to come up. All of them he was frowning. You put your phone on your bed before fully collapsing on your bed. Sobs racked your body as you try to find excuses and reasons why he loves you.

But you couldn’t think of any.

~~~

You sat there, anger boiling inside you as you watched as that girl flirted with Shigaraki. And he didn’t say anything about having a girlfriend! Everyone could sense the tension in the room. Everyone wondering who would make the first move. You or Shigaraki. The last straw for you was when she kissed him on the cheek.

You stood up throwing your hands on the table startling everyone. You sent daggers at Shigaraki while you stomped out of the room. Slamming the door shut along the way. Anyone that passed you could obviously sense your untrained anger.

You walked to your room and got some clothes, shoving them in a backpack. You weren’t leaving forever just leaving for a little bit to clear your mind. You’ve watched this shit go down for how long? Watching as your boyfriend flirted with other women.

Putting the backpack straps over your shoulders you walk out of the  bar doors and into the alleyway.No words were exchanged with anyone when you left. They only saw you leave. No explanation. They didn’t even know where you were going. Which concerned them. Were you leaving them? Everyone seemed confused and interested at the drama that followed there new leader and his probably ex-girlfriend.

~~~

Shigaraki sat at his desk in his room. Lights off as the darkness consumed most of the room where his computer screen light couldn’t reach. His fingers tapping on the keys in furious manners as he watched closely, trying to stay alive.

“And here I am thinking I’m an asshole.” Shigaraki jumped causing his character to die. He turned to the burnt male, glaring at him with all his might.

“You are.” Shigaraki growled.

“At least I’m not the type of guy that cheats.” Dabi gave Shigaraki a deadpanned look.

“What the hell do you mean ashtray?”

“Oh please hand man, everyone knows your fucking that chick that keeps flirting with you.” Dabi sends Shigaraki a glare. Did he not see that you were hurting? Dabi was always protective since he saw you as a little sister.

“The hell do you mean? I haven’t been fucking anyone.”

“Thats a bunch of bullshit. You know that the girl that keeps flirting with you. That girl is probably only with you to be higher up. Unlike (y/n) who truly loves your selfish ass.”  Shigaraki only rolled his eyes before turning back to his screen.

“You don’t know what you have until it’s gone Shigaraki.” Dabi turned around and went to close the door behind him.

“And said thing is slipping through your fingers.”

~~~

“Yeah Dabi I’m fine. I just had to leave for a bit. I can only take so much ya know?” You spoke into the phone. Dabi had called you asking if you were okay. In which you told him that you just needed time to yourself.

“What do you think I should do? I can’t stand watching that girl flirt with him any longer. I feel as if I truly do mean nothing to him.” You felt tears rolling down your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Picking yourself apart trying to find whats so wrong with you that Shigaraki can’t love you.

“Dump him?” The thought of leaving Shigaraki burned your entire being. How could you just leave? Dabi made it sound so easy. But deep down inside you knew he was right. You never wanted to admit it but facing the facts seemed easier than just slowly suffering, watching as the man you adore never any attention to you.

“You know what. I’ll give him one more chance. If he fucks it up Ill dump him, I promise Dabi. Okay? See you later, bye.” You throw your phone on the hotel bed before flopping on the bed looking up at the ceiling. Breathing softly before you hold your knees to your chest. Hugging them as the overwhelming pain of sadness drifted you to sleep.

~~~

“Hey Shigaraki, I’m back. I even brought you McDonalds!” Well more or less stole it when the employee was handing it to the customer through the drive through window. But you thought it would do some good to try and be a good girlfriend.

But as soon as you open the door you heart drops and so does the McDonalds bag. There was your boyfriend, and that girl in bed. Having sex. Tears glazed over your eyes as you slam the door shut. stomping away. You try to rub away the tears that fell from your eyes. 

Fuck this, fuck Shigaraki and fuck the LOV. You don’t need them. You don’t need anybody! You can do whatever you want. You don’t need some cheating dick to tell you what to do. You can make a name for yourself! Be your own villain! Start your own organization! It will be better then the LOV could ever be!

Grabbing all your things, which wasn’t much, and shoving them all in a singular suitcase. It was heavy, but you rather be holding this than stay here. 

“(Y/N) where are you going?!” Dabi asked you, watching you leave out the bar door without a word.

~~~

(One day later)

Shigaraki sat at his little desk playing some video games when his stomach growled loudly. He let out a little huff before getting up and heading to the kitchen for dinner. He wondered what it was tonight. 

He walked into the kitchen only to see no one. No food on the table, nothing even started. Shigaraki scratched his neck a little irrated and went to your room only to see nothing. It was stripped dry. Like no one lived here in years.

Where was all your stuff? An unfamiliar feeling grew in Shigaraki’s stomach. What was this? Whatever this feeling was he hated it with a passion.

Scratching his neck with more vigor this time. Where were you? 

“Dabi have you seen-” Dabi’s fist had connected to Shigaraki’s face, knocking off father.

“Are you fucking serious you asshole? Who knew that you of all people would be a cheater.” Dabi growled at Shigaraki who in return punched him back. There were fists were flying as each other tied to get a winning hit on the other one.

“SHIGARAKI AND DABI! STOP IT IMMEDIATELY!” Kurogiri yelled at them as he teleported both men into there rooms. Dabi could be heard screaming at Shigaraki from his room and Shigaraki screaming at Dabi from his.

~~~

One week later

You laid down in the alleyway you back against a brick wall as the rain from that night soaked you. Your hair sticking to your face. Well at least this was some form of a shower right? Sighing you put your drenched hood up and hide your face into your knees crying as you hit rock bottom. 

To say it was cold was an understatement. It was fucking freezing! The cold wind combined by the rain made it feel like you were going to freeze to death. Well at least if you freeze to death you would never see his stupid face ever again-

“What happened to you? Why are you in the streets?” A voice called out to you. Sniffling you look up and see a man with auburn hair  looking down at you.

“I...my boyfriend of 2 years cheated on me for another girl...” You say as the pain was obvious in your voice.

“Such a shame, you seem as the kind to do anything for their lover.”

“Yeah i guess.”

“Well may i ask if your one for revenge?” His question made you arch an eyebrow as you look at him.

“Well at times yeah.”

“I’ll make you a deal, work for me and you’ll never be lonely again. We’ll think of a revenge plan for your lover, but that is if you work for me.” You looked up at the man and saw 2 more emerge from the darkness. You sat on the ground thinking for a bit before slowly getting up and nodding your head.

“Good, the names Overhaul. I’ll be your boss from now on.”

To be continued?....

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha tomura #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #tomura shiragaki #TOMURA #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #Shigaraki #tomura shigaraki angst

[lucycola]

Hey could you do a Spock X reader where she knows nothing about Vulcans and like keeps accidentally doing taboo things e.g touching hands or touching his ears

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! I accidentally made it gender neutral, because I forgot what pronouns, you used. I’m sorry! I hope you like it.

WARNINGS: Fluff, affection, ignorance of affection in Vulcan culture idk. Maybe Spock is slightly OOC but who cares. I took a little liberty of giving the reader a pinch of background.

To say you were oblivious was an understatement. You weren’t a complete idiot, or anything, just innocently scatterbrained. Perhaps that was the explanation why you didn’t flinch when every you were chastised for a mistake or given a strict order by your commanding officer. As a blue shirt, you fell under the command of the Enterprise’s first officer, and his reputation as a stony, unfeeling, authoritarian preceded him. You were never bothered by this. He was most terrifying, others noted, when Captain Kirk left him in charge when unable to take the chair. You were warned about him-to never cross him and always do exactly as he said. Spock was a hard-ass. He was handsome and perhaps at first you wondered, but it had been made clear to by others he wasn’t interested in anyone.

You had met more terrifying people. You had nine brothers and a strict, often unfair and bully of a father. Commander Spock was a piece of cake. It was in your nature to be gentle, welcoming, and comforting despite the constitution of your upbringing. It was your personality. You didn’t like to let people bring you down.

You were elated alone to be living your dream, anyway. You weren’t going to let the attitude of anyone around you affect your nature or happiness.

You obviously didn’t know anything about Vulcans either.

The first touch was accidental. It always is.

You never took the Vulcan to be clumsy, but on one occasion while discussing your current assignment in passing he dropped his holotape. You both reached  for it, and in a cliché manner brushed hands. While your boss pulled away, you did not and picked up the tape.

“Here ya go!” You cheerily patted the tape in his hand for good measure, “I’ll have that report in the morning like you’ve requested, sir.”

Bypassers gawked as you cheerily skipped away. Your commanding officer only quirked a brow and went on his way.

The next time was less on purpose and more out of your kindness as your commander internally lamented about his captain’s safety during an emergency situation. He had donned the chair and even while appearing composed and direct you had an eye for spotting worry in well kept men. In an brief moment you pressed your hand to his wrist and said softly, “He will be okay. You’ll make sure of it.”

He tensed under your touch and you removed your hand a smiled.

“Report to your station, Ensign,” he said in his usual tone, no hint of distaste or approval in his voice.

“Yes sir.”

The third time was even worse. Somehow you had been suckered to prompting Spock by Doctor McCoy into reporting to an impromptu physical. Confidentiality be damned, the Vulcan’s stress levels were unusually high and it was affecting his demeanor. You accidentally overheard the nurse and the doctor whispering something perhaps about pon farr happening again, but no it hadn’t been seven years yet. Whatever that was.

“I don’t think he’ll listen to me, but if you say it’s important, I’ll try.”

“You’re his favorite, so you’re my best bet.”

“Mister Spock doesn’t have favorites,” you laughed, “But I’ll do it anyway. Someone has to draw the shortest straw. I never mind it being me.”

“Thankyou, Ensign. And good luck.”

You skipped along to the your commander’s quarters. You had never been inside and only rarely had delivered your reports to him in person when requested. He couldn’t always come to you and that was understandable.

At the chime the door slid open and though it was subtle, your boss clearly wasn’t expecting you.

“Hello, Mister Spock,” you greeted, “Doctor McCoy-”

“I am aware of the doctor’s request. As it is not mandatory  I do not find it necessary to attend.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt you. He was tense and though he stood perfectly erect like a statue there was a little shake in his right hand. Without thinking, you grasped it to still the quiver.

“Are you alright?”

Many would expect his to snatch it away, but he didn’t and stood there. If he was caught off guard, it wasn’t apparent. His expression was unmoving and his eye contact never wavered.

“I am fine, Ensign. Report back to your duties.”

“Doctor McCoy said it was important.”

“I am not here to entertain the doctor’s every illogical human whim.” He pulled his hand away, “There is no empirical evidence to suggest I am ill.”

“You’re shivering.” You put your hands on your hip and gave him the most mothering look you could muster.

“Multiple factors such as the natural low temperature of deep space can illicit such a reaction,” he retorted.

“It’s broiling in your cabin, Mister Spock. Only people with fevers do things like that.”

“Humans, Ensign. Humans,” he corrected, “I deduce you are not aware of Vulcan biology or customs.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” you requested softly, “How am I supposed to work efficiently under an ill commanding officer?”

The way you spoke nearly convinced him to do your bidding, but still he remained stubborn.

“I do not comprehend how that would deter your work efficiency.”

You grabbed his hand again, “I am going to worry myself to death if you really are ill and you’re just trying to act like you’re alright. That will keep me from working like I’m supposed to. Efficient crew needs an efficient captain.” You winked at him.

“But Captain Kirk-”

“It’s a metaphor, Mister Spock. Now please come so the doctor can stop paging me and I can work on my report concerning the Althenian plant’s healing properties and various uses from its sap.”

“I yield,” he said after a small beat and without releasing your hand, followed you to the medbay. More people inwardly gawked watching to drag him down the hall. His face was tense, albeit slightly amused.

After reaching your destination you waved him and the doctor off sweetly and made your way back to the lab. You heart wrapped around the thought of him being ill and you hid that worry ill. A little heat bloomed in your chest at his previous touch. You brushed it away. No, you told yourself.

The doctor was only a little surprised. His suspicions were confirmed.

“I had my doubts at first, Spock, but now I see it’s true.”

“Despite Vulcan’s telepathic abilities, I cannot automatically read your mind. Elaborate, Doctor.”

The doctor chucked, “That ensign is your favorite.”

“I do not understand.”

“Who else could have convinced you to come here to let me scan you? Probably not even Jim-”

“I am inclined to follow the captain’s every order.”

“You don’t let anyone touch you like that. Especially not for a long time. If I’m not mistaken you two were practically kiss-”

“That will be enough elaboration, doctor. Please proceed with your medical assessment, as I have much work to attend to.”

The doctor chuckled again. “It’s too bad I can’t tell with that one. They act like that towards everyone.”

“Everyone,” Spock repeated flatly although it was intended to be a question.

“Sweetest soul I’ve ever met. Lights up a room as soon as they enter it.”

“Indeed,” Spock nodded, familiar with the colloquialism.

The doctor’s eyebrows raised and he grinned, “I knew it.”

You of course were oblivious to all of this as you continued through your work, happy as a clam.

After some deliberation one of your coworkers decided to explain the delicacies of Vulcan culture after viewing a friendly hand grasp as a greeting between you and your commanding officer. You were elated to see his shivering had stopped and once again he tensed under the touch, but nodded his head at your greeting. You had blushed while doing so. It was sweet, but your coworker had to break it to you as they had before when warning you last time about him not being interested in anyone.

“Vulcans don’t like to be touched, you know,” they said to you, taking you aside.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re very sensitive to skin to skin contact. They guard themselves mostly, but hand touching is extremely taboo the way kissing in public or other sexual acts are.”

“You mean...” you blushed, “I’ve been--! I hope he’s not offended.”

“Normally he’s not afraid to explain things or clear up-“ you coworker coughed,”-unwanted affection. I’ve seen plenty girls get a talking down to.”

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps he’s forcing himself to be polite.”

“Oh, I’ve got to apologize right away!”

You felt so stupid! How could you be so offensive to him or his culture? You should have read up on his customs before truly interacting with him. It would seem like a smart thing to do-but you were so lost to the world it was embarrassing.

You paused in front of his door for the first time in your life, afraid to speak to him.

The door open quickly and you stepped back, surprised. He had looked like he had been going to leave and you sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, sir. I need to speak to you.”

“Come inside.”

You blushed at the request, wringing your hands as you entered.

You turned to him and blurted, “I had no idea what I was doing, sir, I swear. Had I known that touching you was wrong I would stop. I’m so used to being touchy-feely on Earth I forgot that not everyone-”

“Ensign,” he said firmly.

“Yes?” you squeaked.

“Had those interactions provoked me I would have made it known. I should be the one offering an apology. I should have explained what such interactions mean on Vulcan before anyone else claimed the opportunity. I assume someone took the liberty of doing so.”

“Yessir. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.”

“Why not?’

“Because your actions did not provoke me, but precisely did the opposite.”

“What-what do you mean?” Your face was fully red and you obscured it with your hands. He let out a sound that was the closest Vulcan thing as a sigh and stepped closed to you.

He grasped your hands and lowered them from your face. His eyes were soft and the most vulnerable as you had every seen them.

He pressed his right hand that was shivering terribly to the side of your face. It stilled instantly.

“I am aware of your affection for me and I return the sentiment.”

You couldn’t find your voice and after a long moment of studying your features he leaned down to give you a kiss, warm and firm.

You gasped into his lips and pressed back.

He released you and you looked at him starry eyed.

“So it was true, what the doctor said, you said in a hushed tone.

Spock’s arms were around you gently, “Elaborate.”

“I am your favorite.”

“Affirmative.”

FIN

#spock #spock x reader #spock x gender neutral #startrek #star trek #tos #ask #request #mister spock #mr spock #s'chn t'gai spock #doctor mccoy #bones #leonard mccoy

[todoscript]

Syndicate —  [ 3 ]

parts: one | two | three

SUMMARY: The four of you arrive at Hatsume’s workshop, hoping to find some leads about the mysterious bullet you discovered in the aftermath of the scuffle against the Shie Hassaikai yakuza group.

genre: mafia au. pairing(s): mafiabosses!todobakudeku x fem!reader word count: 2.1k+ warnings: mature themes. mafia talk. crude language/cursing. future adult and violent scenes. polyamorous relationship. characters are aged-up. taglist: in reblogs. please ask if you would like to be included in the taglist for updates on future parts.

author’s note: oh my god, i am so sorry for the very long wait everyone! trying to crank this part out was a bit of a struggle with everything going on, but i’m glad it’s finally done! i initially planned to make this chapter a bit longer and continue on with some of the next section, but it made more sense to end it off here so the next part could be flushed out more on its own

Nothing but the grating sound of machinery sparking against each other fills the room the moment you walk into Hatsume’s workshop, located in the more uneventful parts of Tokyo, and away from the seeing eyes of the public. Your ears recoil at the noise; however, it is a cacophony of sounds you are used to, considering this is far from your first time here. Thus, it’s not so much a surprise, being greeted this way, though still jarring nonetheless.

Mei Hatsume is a woman who usually busies herself with work. Whenever she wasn’t occupied filling out a client’s order, such as creating the gadgets they requested necessary for certain heists, she was always active in coming up with new inventions—other gizmos to win people over. In turn, she managed to catch the three pairs of eyes that are responsible for overseeing the infamous Yuuei mafia. Before long, the syndicate had become one of her most frequent and loyal clients due to her high-quality skills and work ethic. 

Your three men are in tow behind you when you enter, following in not only your steps but your strained expression over the racket.

“Hatsume!” you shout out to try and capture the girl’s attention, being that her eyes are covered in her dense, protective goggles to even see the four of you coming.

Far too engrossed in her work, her nonchalant hums in between her buzzing equipment indicate that she isn’t going to notice you anytime soon. Knowing this, Bakugou grits his teeth out of annoyance and marches past you.

“Hey Goggle-Head!!”

Unsurprisingly, his yell is garishly loud and is enough to cut through the jarring grinding of the machines and reach Hatsume’s ear. Bakugou does prefer to take a strident approach to things after all. And today especially, he isn’t in the mood to wait around.

“Bakugou. That was unnecessary,” Todoroki says, side-eyeing his partner for his boisterous attitude.

“It was totally necessary, Icy-Hot,” the blonde retorts.

Hatsume soon stops what she’s doing and finally brings the noise to a halt. Lifting her bulky steampunk goggles from her eyes, she properly greets her guests.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite clients!” Her tone is welcoming and chipper, despite the somewhat rude awakening courtesy of the blonde. “What can I help the four of you with today? Perhaps in need of some more firepower for your men? Hmm?” Hatsume wiggles her brows—a crafty gesture she usually gives to entice her customers while flaunting some incredibly elaborate contraption of hers in her arms. Midoriya declines with a shake of his head, waving a hand out.

“No, we’re fine with all the equipment you’ve provided our group with so far, Hatsume. They’ve been working wonders for us,” he says kindly.

“Especially that earring from the other night.” You join in the praises, and Hatsume readily eats them up as her yellow eyes begin to sparkle.

“Ah, the teardrop earring, I presume? As expected, I knew that particular item would perform excellently, what with its compact size and design to elude suspicion, along with its vast set of features—”

“Come on, quit yapping already! We’re here for business, not to give our fucking reviews,” Bakugou dispels the girl’s incessant ramblings with his ill-tempered tone.

Todoroki steps forward, following in the blonde’s approach. “He’s right. Excuse us, Hatsume, but we wanted to ask you about something we encountered last night,” he explains, hand digging into his coat pocket to procure the ziploc bag containing their item of inquiry—the bullet.

Your hands glow magenta; your quirk lifts the bullet from the plastic and into the air to prevent Hatsume from needing to touch it directly for examination. As it hovers in front of her, Hatsume’s eyes start to gleam a brighter amber yellow inactivation of her quirk, allowing her to scrupulously inspect every detail down to even smidgen of a scratch.

A few hums leave her lips the more she tilts her head at the object, index finger steady beneath her chin.

“Well?” you ask, a tad impatient for answers as are the other three. Hatsume gives the bullet one last look before turning to you, a somewhat uncertain look on her face.

“Just who did you retrieve this bullet from?”

“A henchman from the Shie Hassaikai yakuza fired this at us last night while we were in a scuffle with them,” Todoroki answers with Midoriya continuing.

“We managed to avoid getting hit by it thanks to a comrade of ours.”

“Hah, as if those jokers could pose even a threat to us with flimsy weapons like these.” Bakugou punctuates with his arrogant poise, and you playfully roll your eyes at his comment before returning to the situation at hand.

“Still, for us to not recognize something as ordinary as a bullet like this is concerning, adding onto the fact they were willing to use this instead of facing them head-on with their quirks,” you add. There’s a silence lingering in the air at your words, but it eventually isn’t long until Hatsume says her piece. 

“Well, after seeing this, I suppose the talk going around the crime groups is true after all.”

The four of you exchange peculiar looks, inquisitive at the mention of such “talks”.

“What ‘talk’?” Midoriya asks, voice dipping low for his standards.

Taking a seat at her workbench while facing her four guests, Hatsume’s expression grows unusually serious.

“Some of my clients have spoken about some shady business going on in the underground recently.”

“Shady business?” Bakugou repeats vehemently, eyebrow quirked.

“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Todoroki comments, growing wary at the shift in the situation.

“We practically have total control of the black market on the east side of Japan. What shit could be going on under our fucking radar?” The blonde’s eyes flare a menacing red over the news.

“To begin,” Hatsume continues, “my clients have spoken about a new weapon being spread around amongst many criminal gangs. It’s no surprise you haven’t heard of it actually. The ones producing them have made sure to evade the gaze of your mafia group by offering them to those in the west, and have only recently moved to the east.”

“They didn’t want us to intervene and mess with their steady business on the black market, I’m assuming,” you add, and Hatsume nods at your conjecture.

“Likely. Anyways, this weapon didn’t seem like a big deal at first. Just some talk about a bullet similar to the one here.” Hatsume gestures to the transparent bag. “But a bit of prodding later, I learned that the contents inside the bullet actually contain a drug created by a scientist, which was forcibly taken by the Shie Hassaikai yakuza.”

Midoriya, Bakugou, and Todoroki are immediately attentive at the name, their expressions soon altering into revulsion as if a vile stench had suddenly wafted into the air, turning the atmosphere sour.

“So the yakuza made out with some stolen research and are mass producing these bullets onto the black market behind our backs, correct?” Todoroki relays the info with malice prevalent in his timbre.

“Those fuckers. Thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want, huh?” Bakugou’s teeth grit at every word uttered under his breath, fists clenching together. “They’re asking for it now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kacchan. We’ll make sure each and every one of them is delivered the punishment they deserve.” Midoriya joins his fellow mafia bosses in the menacing pressure exuding from them. His smile is far from genuine—two-faced with intense animosity emanating from just a simple glance.

Having been by their side through situations similar to this level of tension, you’re very much used to witnessing these expressions painted on each of their faces—such as a time when their shipment of goods came far delayed due to a few lackeys’ miscalculations. In turn, Yuuei had lost a bit of time in their well thought out schedule, which was something Deku, Ground Zero, and Mercury were not at all happy about as they thrived on pure efficiency. To make the story short, those henchmen had received a rather brutal ending for their errors when the three were done with them.

Since then, the trio have let it become a lesson learned not to rely on a bunch of simpletons to carry out such important tasks. As a result, the mafia group had become more efficient from then on out, now centering around your smaller group of elites in the aftermath of the events.

You have to admit, seeing the three so riled up is quite attractive in your eyes. They were already charismatic on their own—being in their presence gave you a very tasteful glance of their domineering aura. But in action, that charisma somehow manifested many times stronger, and when in pursuit with such determination in hand, it felt like they could do just about anything they set their minds to.

However, there are times when you knew you needed to step forward and become their sense of reasoning, lest they walk through fog with no sense of direction. Now is one of those times.

“Well, to start, we need some leads.” You join in, and the three turn to you, ready for what their right-hand woman has to say. “Hatsume, do you know what the drug does?”

The girl shakes her head, much to your dismay, but offers a hunch. “I can only assume it must disrupt the body in some way on contact.”

“It’s a good thing Kacchan didn’t get hit by it then,” Midoriya comments.

“Shut up, Deku.” Bakugou harshly jabs his elbow into the young man’s sides, annoyed.

“Now’s not the fucking time.”

“Right, right… My apologies…” Midoriya replies, holding no ill will at his partner, despite his rough demeanor. The trivial exchange between the two quickly ceases. You decide to resume your questions directed at the craftswoman.

“Alright then… How about the scientist that created the drug? Do you have any info on them?”

Musing in thought, Hatsume’s eyes draw to the ceiling as she rummages through her head to recollect her memories.

“Hmm… What I have heard is that the yakuza had infiltrated a place located in the corner of Kamino Ward in Yokohama to obtain the drug.”

“So that must be where this scientist’s laboratory or base of operations must be then. Kamino Ward.” Todoroki guesses and the girl gives him a brief nod.

“Then that’s where we’re going next. We’re gonna find this scientist and get the info we need, even if we need to beat it out of them!” Bakugou exclaims, voice thundering throughout the workshop as his palm emits a small, concentrated burst of fire while coming in contact with his fist. “Not a single one of those half-rate yakuza asswipes are getting away, pulling this shit on us.”

“Though I have to warn you,” Hatsume interrupts forebodingly as a shadow casts over her features, “there have been rumors of people disappearing around those parts.”

You lift a brow, suspicious at the meaning behind those claims.

“Disappearing?”

“That’s right. Anyone that so much as approaches that area ends up poofing out of existence.” She emphasizes this notion by springing her arms outward. 

“Oh? Sounds a bit… far-fetched.” you reason, adamant on the idea that no such thing could happen without natural causes. After all, quirks are biological phenomena. Nothing as supernatural as disappearing from existence should be occurring, right?

“No, Angel Face, it sounds more than just far-fetched. It’s more like a load of bullshit to me,” Bakugou chimes in, bolstering your doubt against it.

“Probably something stirred up to keep people off this scientist’s back,” Midoriya speculates. “He’s already had his research stolen from him. I’m sure he wouldn’t want a repeat of that.”

As he appears behind you, Todoroki lays a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “Even if something like that is true, I doubt it could truly pose a threat against us, considering who we are.” His hand dips down to find yours before lifting it above your shoulder to lay a quick kiss on your fingertips. You smile at both his words and his touching gestures.

Ignoring the affectionate display, the girl only shrugs. “That’s what I’ve been hearing is all, but I suppose you could take it with a grain of salt.”

Despite the ominous admonition, Midoriya gives Hatsume a grin before reaching into the pocket of his coat. “Thank you for the warning, Hatsume,” he sets a wad of cash down on the workbench in front of her, “along with the valuable set of information. We’ll be sure to put everything you told us to good use.”

She returns the smile, fingers curling around the stack furtively. “Well, a pleasure doing business with you, Yuuei. And remember, my services will always be available to you when you need it.”

“Dutifully noted.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou x reader #midoriya x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #todoroki imagine #midoriya imagine #bakugo x reader #shouto x reader #izuku x reader

[maplecornia]

chapter 26

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.85K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: i don't think i'll ever get over how hot Namjoon is ;-;

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo

You groan as you lean against the pillar near the entrance to the BigHit building.

Last night, when Taehyung walked you back to your apartment, you didn't sleep very well. Turning to glare at your rather disheveled reflection in the mirror, you let out another groan.

Why did he have to show up? You were perfectly fine, things were perfectly normal, and then he had to screw up your heart all over again. Letting out a small scream, you throw a 3-second fit before leaning your back against the clear glass wall.

Sooner or later, you're going to have to go in.

Why can't it be later?

Letting out a guttural growl, you pull yourself off of the glass and head inside the building, stomping like a little two-year-old. You really don't want to see him today, you're afraid of what will happen if you do.

You don't want to fall.

Please God, don't let me fall.

Entering the building, you feel a bit more comfortable, not so out of place. Now, you have a purpose, a plan; a reason for being here. Smiling softly to yourself, you walk forward, this time nothing in your way. As you reach the receptionist's desk, you smile as you recognize Jojo behind it.

Playing coy, you knock twice on the desk before glancing away and holding your head in your hands. She glances up, ready to greet the newcomer but as soon as she sees your face, she breaks into a grin.

"Ah~ it's the snoozer, early today I see." You frown at the nickname but when she smirks your way, you can't help but grin like a giddy child. It feels good to have friends or at least the beginning relationships of one.

"I told you, the time was wrong." You pout, flopping on the desk and she laughs before preparing the schedule you need for Namjoon today.

"Mmhmm, and what happened yesterday? Was Mr. Kim too tired of waiting and told you to stay at home?" The mention of yesterday causes your grin to fade a little. With it comes the memory of Taehyung, and he starts to reenter your mind. Pulling yourself off the desk, you smile weakly, shaking your head.

"No, I had an injury, Namjoon wouldn't let me come in." She blinks a bit in surprise at the informal way you address him.

"'Namjoon?' Huh, I didn't think the two of you were that close. You only met once after all." She mumbles before typing something into her computer. Realizing your mistake you let out a small gasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry. He told me to call him without honorifics, I suppose it slipped my mind." You look away from her, a bit embarrassed, but as soon as she presses the print button, she chuckles.

"Don't worry, Yen. I was just joking." When you don't look at her, she sighs a bit before lightly knocking on your head. Surprised, you rub your forehead and pout as you meet her gaze once more. Smiling, she pays no mind, presenting you with an ID badge. Your eyes widen as you see it, and you take it from her waiting fingertips.

"Is this mine? I didn't think they'd process it so fast."

"Of course it's yours, whose else would it be?" Jojo chuckles, leaning over the counter and pointing to your name. "See? Lin Yen."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your grin. Somehow, this makes things all the more real, you can't help your delight at the sight. Jojo catches sight of the cute expression and can't help but laugh as she pulls away.

"Now hurry up, the schedule is all ready for the day. Don't forget to check in with the head manager, you remember his name right?" She reminds you, making you pause for a moment before you run off.

"Of course, it's Kim Sejin. Everyone knows that." She smiles at the coy response and waves you away.

"Okay, hurry up and go then. I'm sure Mr. Kim is waiting for you." You bow to her before taking off, a small bounce to your footsteps.

Walking through the halls without Namjoon is a bit scary, but exciting at the same time. You can't help but love the butterflies coursing through your stomach, and is it weird that you kind of want to barf and dance at the same time? Everything is so exciting and new, it's as though the world has been painted a different color.

You try your hardest to forget everything, just live in the moment as of right now. No more worries about the past. About your friends. About your mom. About Taehyung. Right now, you need to focus on yourself.

And this job seems like the perfect escape for that.

Humming slightly to yourself you do a little twirl in the hallway before turning the corner...

...and bumping right into Kim Namjoon.

You let out a small shriek, stumbling back, your body shrinking into a small protective ball like it normally does. It's a little defense mechanism you've acquired over the years. Your eyes closing themselves tightly, you don't realize who you've bumped into until he takes you by the shoulders and catches you mid-air.

Blinking as he rights you, you look up and find yourself face to face with your boss.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice coated with worry, and you chuckle a bit nodding sheepishly.

"Yes, I'm sorry I should've been paying attention to where I was going." You reply, stepping back from him. Though he sighs in relief as he releases you, you find that there’s a heavy cloud hanging over his head. He’s not fully there with you, lost in some unforgotten thought. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you wonder what happened to make him look that way. You open your mouth to ask him about it, but he's already speaking, and your words fall on deaf ears.

"It's a good thing that I bumped into you." You tilt your head in expectation, curious to what he's about to say next. "I needed to talk to you."

"But your schedule isn't ready yet--"

"That can wait."

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already taken you by the hand and is dragging you down the hallways.

Even though you cry out incomprehensible questions and sounds of alarm behind him, he can't seem to hear you. He doesn't want to hear you. His mind is too cluttered with the events of yesterday.

The outlandish plan that BangPD has in store for you.

-

"Why her?" He asks, his hands clenching tightly at his sides.

After the meeting, BangPD requested to meet privately with Namjoon, after all, he was the leader and one of the people that Sihyuk trusts the most. It didn't matter to RM anyway, he needed to talk to Sihyuk as well, and if it had to be on his terms then so be it.

Bang Sihyuk glances outside at the setting sun, casting shadows throughout his office. Serene and insoluble, shadows meant to conceal that which he would rather keep inside. He sighs before answering, his hands secured behind his back as he stands before the massive glass window.

"You know, BTS wouldn't have existed without you. If I had never come across you that day, if I had never been inspired to create a group that will strengthen and invigorate your music, we would have never gotten here." Namjoon glances at him in frustration. He hates when people beat around the bush, but his respect and humility won't allow him to speak out against his senior.

"It's the same with her."

Bang Sihyuk reaches out and taps on the window before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Did you know that glass is so easily broken? That is, when it's on its own. But when you fortify it, when you strengthen it with multiple pieces, then it becomes indestructible." Turning around to face Namjoon, he smiles.

"Almost Bulletproof."

Biting his bottom lip, Namjoon remains silent as he watches BangPD walk to his desk and sit down. He raises his brow when Namjoon remains standing, but when it's clear that he has no intention to make himself at home, he merely sighs.

"She auditioned before, you know. For the BE:LIFT project, for Source Music, she even auditioned for Plus Global." Namjoon balks at that. This is new information to him. He knew that it was her dream to be a singer, but never did he know that she wanted to be an idol. Especially since she's a foreigner, that would be near to impossible. "I didn't accept her."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to share her."

At the explanation, Namjoon turns away, running his hand across his face in frustration. This is much more complicated than he thought. Somehow, she's been connected to the company for the longest time. Not just through Jaejin, not through him himself, not even through Jungkook or Taehyung. Before any of them had a chance to see her potential, she's been on the mind of their former CEO since she auditioned 5 years ago. For a program, she would never be able to succeed in.

"I have been planning this for a while, Namjoon."

He's unwilling to accept it, he can't accept it.

"She's the missing piece."

-

At the thought, his hand clenches subconsciously around yours.

He can't stand the thought of you disappearing far from his reach.

And yet, almost against his will, he finds himself bringing you to the very fate that will keep you from him.

Perhaps forever.

He pauses when the door comes into his line of vision. Almost as though he were afraid of what lies behind that very same door. Mrs. Kwon looks up from her desk as the two of you enter the small lobby, and presses a button on her phone before muttering incomprehensible words to a person on the other line.

Out of breath, you place your hand on your chest before looking up at him. At the sight of his set jaw, and stony eyes, you can't help but feel a bit worried.

What exactly happened to make him look that way?

Once more, you open your mouth to speak to him, but Mrs. Kwon interrupts and you look at her in surprise, not noticing she was there.

"You may go in."

Confused, you turn to Namjoon, but all he does is give a nod to the secretary before stepping towards a massive oak door. Curious, you peer around him to glance at it, not quite aware of your surroundings. There's a small plaque on the door, one that reads the name of the person residing within in perfect neat letters.

방시혁

Bang Sihyuk.

Your heart stopping in your chest, you freeze halfway to the door, your hand slipping out of Namjoon's.

"Namjoon, why are we here?" you try to keep the fear, the anxiety, the worry out of your voice, but the efforts are futile. He swallows hard, steadying himself before turning to you, his warm eyes soft and apologetic.

"He wanted to meet you."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: you can probably guess what will happen next, but nonetheless i'm exciiiited

chapter 27 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

#{infinite stars} updated! #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction series #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kim taehyung #ot7 #ot7 fanfic #bts ot7 #bts ot7 fanfic #wattpad #wattpad writer #ao3 #ao3 writer #bts x reader #bts x female!reader #writer #bts fluff #bts angst #fluff #angst #series #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop

[sir-subpar]

  (Yet another Yandere Toppat Charles x Henry oneshot!)

I Want Names.

     Henry was excited to be on this mission. He was finally allowed to join the other Toppats without Charles giving people death stares, but it wasn't going quite as planned. It was just a raid, how had it gone this wrong? It didn't matter at the moment, they needed to escape the guards. That was the new goal. Run. Henry ran with various other Toppats, he was at the rear, firing his hand gun at the guards pursuing them. Dave was in front of him, and Rupert was at the very front, guiding the trio to the exit. Their pursuers fired their guns as well, the Toppat group was outnumbered and outgunned.    

     They rushed to their escape vehicle, Rupert rushed to the driver's seat as the other group members climbed in. Henry stayed at the rear, doing his best to cover for them. The vehicle raced off, heading to their planned pick up spot so they could get back to the safety of the airship. Henry tried to fire his gun, only to find it was out of ammo. Sh*t. Before Henry could think of another way out of the situation he heard a BANG followed by pain in his side. Henry howled in pain. 

"Oi Henry! You alright!?" Rupert yelled after hearing Henry's pained yell. "Yeah! Yeah! I'm fine! Just drive!" Henry replied, he looked at his new wound. It was a deep gash, not lethal, but it was bleeding quite a bit. The bullet had grazed him. He had to cover it, not just because it was bleeding, but also so Charles wouldn't see it. He couldn't let Charles know about it. If he did, Charles would insist on treating it, meaning he'd have to see his body. Sure, Henry and Charles had been getting closer, heck, they shared a bed. But Charles hadn't seen Henry shirtless before. Henry hadn't let him. Luckily with Rupert's driving, and Dave's remaining ammo, they managed to get them away from the guards and to safety.

     Henry searched the van for something to cover his wound. Rupert continued to drive, Dave tried to help, but they didn't have a first aid kit. "Please don't tell Charles about this." Henry pleaded quietly. Dave nodded. He didn't want to face Charles. Dave looked around the van for something to help Henry cover up the vast in his side. Eventually he found a scarf and a spare black shirt. Not much, but it'll do. Dave handed the scarf to Henry, as he wouldn't let Dave help treat the wound. The scarf was large enough to wrap around his torso with no problem. After he finished tying the scarf he put on the extra shirt. It was a bit big. Perfect. Less likely to show any blood. Now he just had to wait until they got home, and avoid Charles long enough to properly patch up the wound himself (ok, maybe it wouldn't be "properly" done, but it would still be better than this). Henry's breathing was hard. His side hurt. Bad. How was he gonna hide this? He couldn't- no he had to. He couldn't let Charles see his wound. Who knows what Charles would do to Rupert or Dave if he saw Henry injured? "Oi, we're here. Boss says the airship's on its way." Rupert's voice brought Henry back to focus. "Can you walk? Do you need help?" Dave asked, concerned. "I'll be fine. Besides, if Charles sees me limping he'll probably go off on you two." Henry replied. Charles was still very protective after all. Well, it was really more possessive rather than "protective" but that was beside the point. He was dangerous when it came to Henry. He had to protect Rupert and Dave. They were the closest thing to friends that Henry had in the clan, he had a hard time socializing with the other members thanks to Charles' yandere nature. Now all they had to do was wait, and hope that the Toppat leader wouldn't notice Henry's wound.

…

 

    Charles nearly tackled Henry with a hug. It took every ounce of Henry's willpower to not react to the pain in his side. "Hello Henry! My absolute treasure! Welcome home." Charles gave Henry a kiss on the forehead. "H-hi Charles.." Henry replied, this was going to be harder than he thought it would be. "Sorry the mission didn't go as well as we hoped." Henry apologized. Charles still had his arms wrapped around him. "Oh don't worry about that Henry! You're home again. That's what matters. We'll try again some other time." Charles replied sweetly, nuzzling the top of Henry's head. Henry bit his tongue, trying not to show any reaction to the pain in his side. He had to get actual bandages for it before it soaked through his shirt and scarf. "Henry, my love, are you okay? You look like you're about to throw up." Charles asked. Henry thought about it. If he pretended to feel sick, he could probably use that as a cover up for his injury. All he had to do is say that he wanted to go lay down. Perfect. "Y-Yeah, uh, I'm feeling a l-little queasy. Think I ate something bad. I'm gonna go lay down." Henry mentally cursed at himself for stuttering, and started making his way to their room, moving slowly to seem ill (wasn't hard, since he was already in pain). "Oh Henry, I'm sorry you don't feel well. Here."  Charles said right before lifting Henry off the ground and carrying him bridal style. "Let me take you there so you can rest a bit more." 

Henry couldn't help but flinch as Charles carried him. His side was starting to hurt pretty badly. Now he once again had to struggle to hide the pain. Damn it! Why did Charles have to be so attentive!? Henry didn't reply, if he started making up excuses Charles would get suspicious. How was Henry supposed to treat and hide his wound now? He had to think of something, and fast too. He could feel the gash on his side bleeding through the scarf, it was only a matter of time before it bled through the shirt too. 

    Charles carried Henry through the door of their shared bedroom, and gently placed Henry on the bed. "Do you want me to get you anything, love?" Charles asked, holding Henry's hand. "Uh. N-no.. I just wanna lay down. You should probably check on Rupert and Dave though. It was a rough mission and they might have gotten hurt." Henry replied. That was a reasonable excuse, right? Charles was the chief after all, it would make sense to do so. All Henry could do was hope Charles would take the bait and go. That would give Henry the chance to find their first aid kit. "We have a medic on the ship. They know their way around. They'll be fine." Charles replied dismissively. "Don't worry about them dear. They can manage. Just worry about you right now." Damn it. Why was Charles making this so difficult? "I-I'll be f-fine, I just need some rest." Henry said, hoping it would be enough to make Charles give him some time alone. "Alright, I'll just put the mini trash can by the bed just in case, and you just try and sleep this off. Okay Hen-hen?" Charles asked, Henry nodded, worried that if he spoke, he'd make it easier to tell that he was in pain. Charles did as he promised, placing the little garbage can within arm's reach for Henry. Then he gave him a kiss on the forehead, and made his way to the door. Stopping to say something before leaving. "How about I get the kitchen staff to make some soup for you? Maybe that can help. Then I'll come back and nurse you to health!" He offered, waiting for Henry to reply. Henry took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "S-sounds good. T-thank you." 

"Okay! I'll be back when it's done. Love you!" Charles said excitedly, then left. The metal door closing behind him. Henry waited for a few minutes, then slowly got up off the bed. His side stung from the movement, urging him to stop. He had already pushed it so much with his stalling. Nevertheless, he continued to move. He made it this far without Charles noticing, might as well finally patch himself up. He limped towards the bathroom and found the first aid kit. He took it and moved back onto the bed. Henry took a shuddering breath, and started pulling the supplies he needed out. He held his side, with one hand, grabbing the materials with his free hand.

"Hey Hunny-bunny! I just realized that I didn't even ask what kind of soup you- Why do you have the first aid kit out?" 

Henry froze. Sh*t. What was he supposed to do now!? Charles quickly dashed towards Henry, cupping his check, looking at Henry frantically. "Where are you hurt? How bad is it? Who hurt you!?" Charles then noticed Henry gripping his side. He reached for the bottom of Henry's shirt, only to have Henry push his hand away. "Hun. I'm trying to help. Let me see." Charles said, his tone slightly stern. Henry started to panic. "No! I'm fine! Don't!" Henry tried to back away from Charles but his movements were sluggish. The Toppat leader only got closer. Charles gripped Henry's wrists, preventing him from backing away much further. Charles was much stronger in comparison to Henry's slightly malnourished body, but Henry still tried to get away. Charles pinned Henry down, using his legs to hold Henry's together. Immobilized.  Henry could only squirm in attempts to break free. "Henry, why are you so against me looking? I just wanna help! What's got you so panicked?" 

Henry didn't reply. 

"I'm gonna take a look." Charles let go of one of Henry's wrists, and started pulling Henry's shirt up with one hand, stopping just beneath Henry's ribs. He raised an eyebrow at the scarf wrapped around Henry's stomach. Charles slowly let go of Henry's other wrist, then unwrapped the scarf. It was damp with Henry's blood. Charles looked at Henry's exposed side and belly, the bloody, dripping, red gash on Henry's right side caught his attention. Henry gave up on trying to stop Charles, it was too late. Henry shut his eyes, but otherwise didn't move. He felt bad for his friends. 

    Charles too, was stunned into silence, but he had a job to do. Charles grabbed the first aid kit, immediately working to clean the wound. He fully removed Henry's shirt to make his job easier. Henry flinched here and there as the peroxide stung, but he let Charles work. When the injury was clean, he bandaged it. Careful not to make it too tight or too loose. After all that, silence. Charles stared at Henry's exposed chest. He was thinner than Charles had realized. His ribs stuck out slightly. His body was littered with so many scars it was as though he was wrapped in barbed wire. Each of them stuck out like a sore thumb. Charles looked up towards Henry's face. Henry still had his eyes closed, and his head was facing away from Charles. Was this why Henry was so freaked out by Charles' help? Was someone threatening him? Who hurt him? Nobody hurts his Henry and gets away with it! Nobody. He was gonna get to the bottom of this. "Henry… please look at me." Charles waited a few seconds as Henry's eyes fluttered open. "Why didn't you tell me that you were hurt?" Charles asked, he wanted to hear Henry's reasoning before taking action. He had to be sure. "I… I didn't.. Want you to be mad." Henry replied, his tone a mixture of shyness and worry. Charles felt a pang in his heart, he didn’t want Henry to feel uncomfortable around him. He adored him. Charles moved to lay down by Henry's uninjured side, he wanted to cuddle. "Henry… I don't want you to feel the need to hide things like this. You're the love of my life. You have nothing to be ashamed of… I could never be mad at you for something like this. I'll worry, but I won't be mad. Just… don't hide these things from me." Charles paused, gently gripped Henry's hand, and kissed Henry on the cheek. Charles rested his hand on Henry's chest, gently touching the scars that wrapped themselves around Henry's torso. His hands caressed Henry's protruding ribs. His touch was so gentle and full of care, Henry could feel his nerves calming down.

     "You should eat more, Hen-Hen. You're a little malnourished. We have plenty of food you can eat, you don't have to live like you're barely scraping by again." Charles said as he continued to inspect Henry's chest.

"I know… old habits die hard I guess." Henry replied, not sure how else to respond. He knew Charles was right. He was hungry most of the time, and he knew it was a problem. "Henry…" 

"I know, Charles. I know."

There was a little pause between them. Then Charles stood up, and approached their closet. Charles pulled out one of Henry's comfy sweaters and handed it to him. After Henry put the sweater on, Charles cuddled up to him, wrapping his arms around his precious little treasure.

 "I'm doing this because I love you. You know that, right Hen-Hen?" 

"Yeah. I know."

"I also do THIS because I love you!" Charles exclaimed. "H-Huh?" Henry questioned, just before suddenly being smothered by an onslaught of Charles' kisses. Charles kissed Henry's forehead, cheek, and neck. Henry couldn't help but giggle at the sudden sweet affection, as well as the tickling sensation his love's lips gave him. Henry squirmed slightly, he was too ticklish for this! "C-Charles! Hahaha! S-stop! Haha!" Henry laughed, his half-hearted protests did nothing to stop Charles's cuddly attack. Henry's nerves continued to ease. Charles wasn't a monster, he could be dangerous, but he was still sweet deep down. Even if Henry was the only one who really got to experience such sweetness.

    Charles eventually stopped tickling/kissing Henry, there was still something important to tend to. "Hey Hen-Hen, I gotta do something important, but I'll be back! Do you want me to bring you anything when I come back?" Charles asked. Henry pondered it for a moment, he was pretty hungry… "Yeah, actually. Can you bring me something to eat? Like a sandwich or something?" Henry requested. "I can bring you more than a sandwich! We have tons of great stuff on the ship. Is there anything else you want?" Charles asked excitedly, he could do so much more for the love of his life! Henry chuckled, unsure of what he wanted food wise. "Uhh… surprise me?" Henry said, unsure of what he wanted when it came to food. Charles buried his face into the crook of Henry's neck. "I'm gonna spoil you to death!" He said excitedly, before giving Henry one more kiss, and leaving the room. "Love ya Hen-Hen!"

"Love you too Charlie."

…

   The door closed behind Charles. His cheerful expression had snapped into one of stern rage. He wasn't done yet. He needed to talk to Rupert and Dave. 

   When Charles walked through the halls asking about the whereabouts of two clan members, the other Toppats immediately knew someone was in trouble. After a little searching, he found the two men in the infirmary. Rupert immediately knew that this was bad news. "Hey Rupert. Dave." The two men stared at their leader. Dave shifted uncomfortably under his boss's gaze. Rupert decided to speak up first. "Hey boss. Is something wrong?" Dumb question, it was obvious that Charles was pissed, but he hoped approaching the situation with calmness would prevent it from getting worse. "I'd like to know what happened out there. Henry came home with a sizable gash in his side and I'd like to know why it happened. Care to explain?"

Rupert tensed. So he did see Henry's injury. Of course he did. At this point, Rupert wouldn't be surprised if he found out his boss tracked Henry's breathing patterns. "Well… things kinda went south and he was grazed by a guard's bullet when we tried to escape in the truck. I was driving. Dave tried to help Henry as best as he could, but we didn't have a first aid kit. We didn't want Henry to get hurt either, boss." Rupert explained, it wasn't their fault Henry got hurt. It could've happened to anyone. To Rupert's surprise, Charles seemed to calm down a tiny bit. "I see… Dave. Do you remember which guard shot Henry?" Charles asked, now focused on him rather than Rupert. "I-uh." Dave started nervously. "N-no, sir. There was a lot going on, and I-I didn't even know Henry was hurt until he screamed and uh…" Dave stammered, seemingly getting more nervous the more he spoke. "So you don't remember who shot Henry?" Charles asked sternly. "...no sir.. I uh, vaguely remember what the group looked like but I don't know the exact uh, culprit." Dave replied nervously. "Do you remember their faces? If I showed you a picture of them, would you be able to tell me who was there?" Charles asked as he leaned towards Dave slightly. Dave was shorter than him, and already intimidated by Charles, so this just scared him more. "U-uh, m-maybe?" Dave's response was unsure and clearly frightened. "Hmm. That might just have to do… New mission!" Charles exclaimed. Catching the attention of several Toppats. "I want all the employee files for that facility. I want names and faces. Do you understand?" Rupert and Dave nodded, at least they weren't the ones on their boss's chopping block now. 

"Now, I have to get some food 

 for my sweet little Henry." Charles' stern demeanor broke into a loving one for a moment. Then his sternness returned. "I'll be back later to further discuss your new mission. See ya then." 

Just like that, he left. Rupert turned to Dave. "Damn. How does Henry deal with that all the time?" Dave shrugged. "Who knows?"

#stickvin #henrles #henry stickmin #charles calvin #yandere toppat charles #yandere charles #yandere #oneshot

[constantlyunlightening]

Work, work, work

Day 15: Cockwarming

Warnings/Other Kinks: Anxiety/Depression implications and mentions (Doppo is just like thattt), Doppo kinda snaps at the end, office sex/sex at work, dubcon (there's not explicit consent in this so I'm going to put it just in case but the reader and doppo are in a relationship and I meant for this situation to be consensual, but Doppo's anxiety in this situation made it seem kind of sus)

I have nothing but Hypmic on the brain. I love feral screaming Doppo. Would highly recommend listening to him belly scream here. :D I really do want the best for this boy tho. I love him so muchhhh.

Disclaimer: 18+ years and older to read. All characters in this work are 20 years or older. This is a fictional depiction of a relationship and is not meant to be mimicked in real life. I do not condone cockwaming your partner in their place of work irl.

It was always work, work, work with him. Well, work and rapping but Doppo hardly ever talked about his Matenro. It was always about his balding asshole of a boss, his terrible coworkers and work, work, work.

You knew he was a workaholic. You knew that when you fell in love with the guy. But geez. Time for him to learn that self care was a priority.

You had stormed to his office after having spent two hours - past the time he was supposed to get off - waiting for him at home. This overtime was bullshit. The man worked himself to the bone. And he didn't know how to say no. You worried about him! It was the reason why you marched right over to the cubicle. The place was deserted, all except for poor Doppo, sitting at his desk pinching the bridge of his nose and surrounded by paperwork.

"What the hell is all this?" You asked as you came up behind him and you almost felt bad watching as the man let out a shout, jumping out of his seat and scrambling like a frightened rabbit. A few of the papers he had on his desk got caught up in his whirlwind and dusted around the room - a fact you assumed Doppo would be disgruntled about later, but he looked far too nervous right now as he took labored breaths and let wide eyes take in your form.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

".... You're being worked too hard if the sound of your girlfriend's voice is enough to panic you," you quipped back, ignoring his question for now as you bent over to try to help organize some of the scattered documents that had fallen to the floor. Let him have the time to bring his breathing back to normal. You were mainly pissed at his job for overworking him - not so much him. Didn't need to go give him a heart attack. "You're here late again. I was checking in on you." A pile of paperwork stacked against your chest, you moved over closer to him to set it down on the desk and took your time eyeing the assortment of work he had lying around. This couldn't all be his. Some of them must be pawning off their work, and Doppo just so happened to be the biggest doormat around. A sigh heaved from your lips, and you didn't miss the way Doppo shuddered. How could you? The man tensed up like he was being shot by lightening. "Looks like it was a good thing I did too. This work would have kept you here all night if someone didn't come to stop you."

"I'm sorry!" You weren't surprised but the volume of his apology made you jump and as he started to spew off more and more apologies, you quickly grabbed him by the tie and yanked him in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You weren't trying to invalidate his feelings by cutting him off, but there was no reason for him to be panicking like he was. And luckily, kisses from you always seemed to soothe him - at least as soothed as someone like Doppo could be.

"Baby," you purred gently, pulling your lips from his and watching the way his cheeks lit up with a dusting of pink. Always so stressed, this one. But the face he made after you kissed him made your heart flutter. Dumbfounded but he still managed to swoon in subtle ways - those aquamarine eyes zoomed in on you like you were treasure. The simple strokes you gave to his hair made him melt - the tension zapped out of his shoulders and he almost started to slump into you. "You don't have to say sorry. But it's time to go home now. No more work."

That cute daze in his expression only lasted a moment more before it was like all that anxious energy plowed right back into him. The word 'work' was enough to flip a switch with him. "That's not right! I have a whole ton of it!" His arm extended outward, waving at the stacks piled high. "I'm sorry but I have more work to do. I'll finish as soon as I can but - I gotta do this or my crazy boss will pile even more work on me! Or I'll lose my job or worse I-ll-"

"Doppo!" You cut him off and tried to calm him down. It worked to some extent but only enough to keep him from screaming or spiraling into one of his crazes. You didn't convince him to stop working though and eventually you had to settle for watching him drown himself in the work in front of him, trying to suppress your groans.

You loved the man. But really?

Playing the waiting game wasn't something you were interested in though. Which is why, after a bit of working, you somehow managed to not only weasel your way into his lap but you also got his cock out of his pants, stroking it just enough to get him riled up as you watched him try not to panic.

"You can't just do that-"

"I just did. Don't worry. The cameras can't see in here. It's fine," you coaxed, letting him stay nervous anyway as you pushed your panties to the side from underneath your skirt causing him to visibly gulp. But he wasn't pushing you off.

"I have to work," he declared, whispers on the verge of being shouts fell from his lips but cut off into a whimper as the head of his dick was suddenly being warmed up by the heat of your body as you slowly sank down onto him - taking him in inch by inch. 

It wasn't until you were fully seated to the hilt, listening to his breath hitch that you gave a tiny huff. "Then work." And your body stilled. No movement other than the flutter and clench of your walls against your hung lover, letting your eyes watch his flustered face. He clearly didn't know what to say and you watched as his gaze flickered around like a chicken with its head cut off - to your face, to his paperwork, to where your bodies were joined and then anywhere but you. Good. Get him riled up. He was panicking but you could feel him twitch inside of you, like he was anticipating for you to move - waiting for it. But you kept your hips locked in place as you leaned in and rested your head on his shoulder. "Work, Doppo. Just giving you some motivation for when you finally get done." Your voice was much to kindly for someone who just pulled somebody's dick out in the middle of a public office. But it managed to keep him from tipping over his brink just yet. Poor thing always got so worked up. Your physical actions may not be helping that necessarily, but your voice always seemed to soothe him over, even if it was only a little at a time. 

"H-how?" You listened to him practically squeak, shifting under you and instantly giving a whine at the slight push against your walls. How was he supposed to work when you were on him like this? How was he supposed to concentrate when you were constricting around him? When you were filling him with molten lava from the bottom up?

With feather light kisses, you trailed a line across his neck, trying to remain still on the cock that was stretching out your insides - forcing the urge to bounce on him like a pogo stick until you both lost even the capability to think of work. You would behave somewhat for now though. Doppo could get his work done. You could get some form of closeness in the meantime. Besides, maybe a good vise grip on him could speed up the process? Or make him say 'fuck it' altogether - hopefully, literally fuck it. "Just work, Doppo. Since it's so important. Ill wait," you cooed, almost as if you were being thoughtful. Too sweet for him to argue and you listened to him give a defeated groan of a sound before he tried to level out his breath and refocus. 

Oh, but that was easier said than done. Doppo had restarted on the paperwork, working around you as your warm body nuzzled into his chest. He usually felt like he was suffocating at work but right now, it felt like your body was trying to strangle the life out of him from somewhere other than the neck. How were you so tight? How come velvety walls were squeezing down on him over and over again without either of you even moving? You were starting to leak out around him, a sticky mess starting to spill out onto his lap slowly - torturous. Maybe you were actually trying to be sweet. Maybe you were actively trying to mess with him. But either way, it was kicking up a bad habit within him. He would reach for another stack, shifting in the chair and causing the tiniest of mewling to escape from your lips. It was a blissful sigh here, a hitched breath there, a tiny hum into his chest and it was going to break him. He was supposed to be focusing but at this rate, he was going to start making mistakes on his work.

You were causing him to silently work himself up. Each climb of his emotions resulted in a string of jitters, and in return had your body clenching even tighter on him. How could you even feel like that? He choked, tugging at his tie to try and gasp for air. You were messing with him. You had to be. You must be mad he wouldn't leave. This was his retribution. To be strangled by your wet cunt over and over without reprieve- without any motion for relief. Well, fuck that. He may love you. But he worked far to hard day in and day out. Pent up didn't even begin to describe it. If you were going to try to rile him up like that, then he would give you riled up because he couldn't take it. Not a second longer. Not with that familiar primal darkness beginning to flare inside him.

His body rocked and you instinctively lifted your head from his chest to peer up at him, the first actual movement he had made since you had sat on him. "Are you okay?"

"O-okay?" He was stuttering his words but unlike his panic from before, this time he sounded angry. It wasn't a tone he took entirely too often. But you knew Doppo. You knew if his buttons were pressed enough, he would snap. He was tea kettle, getting hotter- "how do you except me to be okay-" and hotter "- when your purposely trying to make me-" until he screamed "-loose my fucking mind!?"

You only had enough time to widen your eyes before he flew out of his chair, taking you with him and slamming you onto his desk. The noise he made was positively feral - teetering between a growl and a scream - and without a warning, he was wrecking you, bludgeoning into you with a speed you hadn't even been aware he was capable of. 

"D-D-Doppo!" You were trying to talk but the sudden thrusting was knocking out your capabilities to think. You had been stretched out and horny for a while now but at this pace you couldn't keep up. You were trying to grip at his shoulders for some type of stability. "H-hang on a sec-"

"Hang on?!" He sounded unhinged - a growl ringing in the back of his throat so different from his usual meek - if not panicked - composure. "I've been hanging on! I've been hanging on this whole time! You just had to be on me huh? When I'm at work!" Papers were tossing up into the air around you and you could hear the clatter of the cubicle as he knocked you into the desk over and over. Oh, you couldn't even keep your eyes opening with the way your senses seemed to overload. "All this work - all these damn excuses to pile it onto me - and then you still come in here and give me more work. Too needy? Need my to pound you senseless before I can finish my work? Then that's what I'll do. I'll take you over and over and over again until you're out for days!" He declared, his hands clamping down on your hips and you could already feel the bruises even as the head of his cock shifted up enough to find your sweet spot, leaving you wailing out. "Again and again and again!" He got louder and louder with his sounds, growls and grunts turning into wanton groans and gasps as he split you in two. 

This would teach you not to mess with him at work. Or maybe it would teach you to mess with him more.

#doppo kannonzaka #hypmic smut #doppo x reader #kinktober #mc doppo #idk what to say about this one #i was actually gonna make it sweeter #but then listened to Doppo screaming and lost my mindddd #so i wanted to tease him #and press his buttons #whoops #aftercare for this one would be sooo good tho

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Azula x Female reader series: Part 1

Reader is Azula's personal maid and has been since childhood. You enjoy your job, not just because you’re in love with the princess but also because you’re very good at it, shown by the fact you’ve worked closely with Azula for years without a scratch or banishment on you. When Azula Zuko Mai and Ty-lee are sent to the Ember Islands Azula brings you too but when boys at a party start flirting with you Azula reacts badly, very badily. You argue and she demands you return home but after a talk with Zuko you realise Azula's actually jealous. When you confront her about it the confident scary princess is replaced with a shy bashful girl.

Part two here

Part three here

Part four here

Part Five here

Part Six here

----

You felt free here on the Ember Islands. Sure this was work and you had to tag around after Zuko, Azula, Mai and Ty lee, but nobody here knew who they were so they couldn't boss you around too much. So here at this party you’d been invited to by some boys at the beach you were literally free, your royal companions all dispersed and none of them called you to follow them so you roamed around happily content. You basked in the feeling of relaxed happy people, everyone here was so friendly. You'd naturally been nervous and suspicious when they'd started talking to you for no reason but they just seemed like nornal teenagers so you talked back and soon found yourself laughing and joking with the people unaware the others were having a worse time than you, Zuko and Mai were arguing and Ty lee's advice riled Azula making her more and more angry as she watched you chatting and smiling with some boy.

You were still talking to the boy who’d invited you when he tensed smile gone as he fixated on something behind you. You turned to see Azula stood there, an expression on her face you knew well, anger. "Y/n i need to speak to you" she told you turning and striding outside before you could reply. You excused yourself and followed her unsure what you’d done. Mai and Ty lee watched you, Mai sending you daggers so you supposed it must be bad. You reached outside and shivered at the cold but Azula didn't seem effected. "what’s wrong princess?" You asked her hesitantly. Azula spun to face you and you knew this wouldn't be good. "Whats wrong?" She laughed "whats wrong? I invite you here and you embarass and humiliate me". You frowned "Azula I'm sorry but how?". "Really? Tell me you’re not naive enough to think those boys just wanted to talk to you?". You blushed and frowned "Azula we were just talking...". "You are my personal maid! Your actions reflect on me y/n". "I know that Azula, im sorry if i disappointed you". "You are a royal maid you should not be consorting with peasants!". You nodded bowing your head "im sorry princess". Azula was made angrier by you using her title, something you’d dropped here on the island and Azula was annoyed she’d come to like it which spurred her on further. "but then you obviously think high of yourself, flirting with my brother, how long have you liked him?". "Zuko?" You asked completely shocked "we weren’t...". "He doesn’t like you" Azula snapped "he argued with Mai and was using you to make her jealous, if you were wondering Mai didn't like you before and certainly doesn't now". You gulped "ill apologise to her, i didn’t mean anything...zuko just came up to me". "Zuko? are you so familiar you forget his title?" Azula snapped, angry you used her title and not his, "like you’re such good friends". "No i...its just a habit I've gotten into here, I'm sorry princess". Azula glared "well it appears i shouldn't have invited you here, you were clearly not ready, it was too much for you to handle, you have disappointed me and will return home immedietly". You were stunned "you're sending me home because of tonight?". "Yes, i think it wise to keep you and my brother seperated". You gasped "but i don’t even like Zuko Azula! He doesn't...i won't speak to him the rest of the trip if that is what you want?". Azula did feel a surge of excitement at your words and was tempted to agree and make you promise never to speak to zuko again, you would just speak to her, but she bit back her desire and stood taller "no that won’t do, you are to leave here, go straight to the villa without speaking to anyone, pack and go to the boat to head back to the fire nation where you will wait for my return, understood?". You went to argue but her glare made you stop and you gave in "if that is what you want Azula". She hated the way you said her name now, it almost made her feel guilty. Azula pushed that thought away and barged past you, not even looking at you.

You walked through the party eyes fixed on the door, ignoring the friendly people who called your name, and walked straight out onto the street. You started in the direction of the house your head swimming at Azula’s mood swings. She’d been fine the whole trip, why was she acting this way now? You hadn’t been concentrating where you were going and paused on a path lost. You saw someone up ahead and walked closer when you saw they were throwing things. You hesitated and went to walk away when you saw it was Zuko. He was clearly angry and you thought it best to leave him alone and started back up the path when he looked up. "Y/n?" He asked spotting you "what are you doing out here?". You swallowed uncomfortable, already breaking a promise to Azula "im lost, i was looking for the villa". Zuko frowned "you’ve gone way past it, what’s wrong?". You looked at him shocked "nothings wrong" you said hastily and "i just need to return there and quickly". Zuko nodded "let me guess Azula’s orders?". You nodded avoiding eye contact "can you tell me how to get there please". Zuko nodded and started walking in that direction but you didn’t follow. "I think it’d be best if you just told me, you do not need to show me". Zuko looked at you confused but shrugged and told you the directions.  "Why do you need to go there so quickly anyway?" Zuko asked "is Azula meeting you there?" He asked carefully. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and shook your head "no she..the princess wants me back at the capital". Zuko frowned "why?". You sighed in frustration, why couldn’t he just let you go? "I angered her at the party" you shrugged and zuko frowned "how? You were friendly and happy..how did that...ah Azula was jealous". You looked at him shocked "what?". "She was jealous, she asked you to come, you were supposed to be here for her and her only, yet you were giving your attention to other people" Zuko’s eyes showed he recognised something and he lowered his head "she was angry you talked to me wasn’t she?". Zuko saw your reaction and nodded "y/n im sorry, i was childish i saw Mai talking to another guy and wanted to make her jealous too but i didn’t know any other girls so i talked to you, it’s my fault Azula snapped at you". You were amazed a royal had apologised to you and stared at Zuko who waited for your response. Finally you coughed and looked at him "it’s not your fault prince Zuko". Zuko frowned but knew you were uncomfortable so nodded "she was just jealous that’s it". "I don’t believe the princess gets jealous" you couldn’t help saying but Zuko shook his head. "she’s only human y/n, just like i got jealous seeing Mai talking to that guy she got jealous seeing you talk to that ched guy". You blushed at what zuko was implying and too late he realised what he insinuated and tried to back track but couldn’t. "Can i please go?" You asked him and Zuko nodded "of course..so you go back along this path for about 3 minutes then.." when someone called his name. Your blood froze as Azula appeared on the path. Her smiled dropped when she saw you were with him. Zuko saw you tense and stepped forwards "Azula...". "I told you to go home did i not?" Azula asked you "you defy me again?". "Azula she didn’t..." Zuko started but Azula cut him off "leave us brother, i have to handle y/n". Zuko stood his ground but you nodded to him "go prince Zuko, i need to speak with the princess". Azula laughed "you give my brother orders?". But Zuko glared "can it Azula, you’re getting what you want aren’t you?". Azula’s eyes flared but she didn’t say anything, watching Zuko until he was out of sight and then the two of you were alone on a dark path.

Azula launched into a verbal attack stating all the ways you’d angered her and you let them wash over you watching her. She was jealous, what zuko said was true! You’d known Azula was a possessive person but didn’t think shed be so possessive over you, that she’d care enough to be..the thought made your stomach flutter and Azula noticed your expression and glared "are you even listening to me?". You frowned and looked up at her "are you jealous?". Azula spluttered her eyes bright with rage "jealous of you! Why on earth...". "Not jealous of me" you said quickly aware you had to tread carefully "of Zuko and that guy at the party". Azula stiffened and glared at you "why would i be jealous of them, because they spoke to you? You certainly hold yourself in high esteem". You shook your head "there would really be no reason to be if you were...i was merely talking to them, nothing else, it wouldn’t even matter if they wanted more because they’re not my type". Azula snorted "why on earth would i care what your type is?". "Just so you know my loyalty to you will never be questioned, especially by a boy Azula, boys...they’re not my type". It took Azula a second to register what you were saying and then recognition showed in her face and she lowered her gaze from you. She actually looked slightly flustered, something you’d never seen and you watched eagerly. Azula nodded "i see that is...good to know, not because...just it’s useful to know that is not an issue, for your loyalty that is!". You nodded softly, still Azula could barely meet your eye and that made you smile. "I still think it’d be a good idea for you to return home however" she said softly "you know i cannot go gack on a punishment". "Of course princess" you bowed and Azula paused "but i will be back soon anyhow, so really you’d just be preparing things for my return, yes?". You nodded "everything will be in place for your eagerly awaited return princess". Azula grew embarassed again and you almost laughed to see you could have this effect on the great and powerful Azula. "Head for the boat now" she told you "you can still make the midnight boat, I will send you your belongings tomorrow". You nodded and bowed "thank you princess" and walked away. You could feel her eyes burning into your back and couldn't help but smirk. Maybe things would be more interesting in the firenation now...

-----

Ngl I loved when we got to see the normal(ish) teenager side of Azula! Not sure if im gonna make this into a series or not but I’ll see.

#azula #atla azula #zuko #mai #Ty lee #tylee #Ember islands #Avatar #atla #atla zuko #atla mai #atla tylee #fire nation #avatar the last airbender #atla imagine #avatar imagine #azula imagine #azula x reader #zuko imagine #The Beach atla #The beach #Princess Azula #Prince Zuko #fire nation royal family #fire nation royalty

[722alycat]

Face Down

pt i pt ii pt iii pt iv

Masterlist

an: sorry for the wait, i rewrote this like 6 times 

Summary: Levi takes a job without you, and well, if that’s how it’s gonna be, you’ll show him you can do just fine on your own. 

You’ve been alone for a year.

Kenny never really bothered to come back to say goodbye, and Levi tells you the last time he saw your surly guardian was for a moment. He was a face in the crowd, surveying the gutted body of Vic, the beaten and stabbed corpse of the tall boy whos name you never caught.

You and Levi did what you could do. You returned to your home built through ill gotten gains, your sanctuary constructed from trust and growing up side by side. You improved it, at the will of Levi the Dictator, who constantly bullied you to fix this, and clean that, and for the love of god dust that shelf.

Days turned into months, turned into years, and eventually you stopped waiting for Kenny and started scrambling for higher ground, for better weapons and thicker clothes. You bullied your way through marketplaces by day, and raided them by night. Things never got the chance to get harried; not since Levi's first kill. Now he led you, sneaking through shadows and striking through smog, always knowing just what to do.

You had laughed, frantic and aching and triumphant when you realized that the Ackerman Instinct Kenny had so fondly spoke of wasn't another lie. You watched as Levi danced around opponents, slipped behind enemy lines. He massacred men twice his age and skill level. He was invaluable even if you had only ever wanted him to be safe happy warm.

Naturally, this behavior would begin to attract attention.

Attention finds you in the form of a tall blonde man, looking as young and fierce as you and Levi tend to. His teeth are bared in a semblance of a grin as his eyes track you through the marketplace. You catch him watching you and Levi as you wander, wrist in hand, through the crowded market. 

You twitch, once, and sidle in closer to Levi. He doesn’t stiffen, but you can feel his muscles bunch beneath his coat as you lean into his arm. You swipe a nail across his palm. His eyes flick lazily in the direction of your signal, and he finds the blonde boy in record time. Levi hums, tugging you closer and draping a lazy arm around your shoulder. It's more territorial and threatening than romantic like you hope dream want believe some may view it. You know his eyes will be too cold and too dark to whisper of love, know all you'll find in that gaze is a cool possession you know the people in the underground get love mixed up with possession sometimes and you remind yourself again and again you wont make the same mistakes. The knowledge strikes you again, of your circumstance: he is yours, and you are his, even if its not quite the way you're starting to want. He tucks his head into your neck to whisper in your ear. A young guard blushes crimson and shyly and looks away from you both. You blush too, and sternly remind yourself he’s just pretending to be in love with you.

Still, not much is romantic about what your pseudo-lover is saying.

"You have that knife I got you, right?"

The hand you have resting on his hip taps once, and you feel his smirk against your neck, and god are those his teeth? You shiver, feeling goosebumps crawl up your back as your heart bursts to life behind your rib cage. Surely he knows the effect he has on you. He has to. Levi doesn’t bother asking if your knife is sharpened and ready. He knows. He takes it from you nightly, looking over the blade, sharpening it if you had recently used it. You protested at first, telling him you could do it yourself, and he needn't trouble himself, but the look of annoyance and fond exasperation he had sent you left you winded and compliant, even as he called you stupid for suggesting he would ever go to any trouble for you.

Never mind that he always did go to trouble for you. Never mind that he always pushed himself between you and an aggressor, always took the larger opponents and left you to mop up the stragglers; that he would corner you after every fight, steady hands checking you over carefully. You hadn't known that the Ackerman instinct could leave him so gentle, so human, even as it changed him into something other; Not until you had felt his hands softly brushing over your cheeks, your arms, your stomach, searching for any sign you might have been close to being taken from him.

You were forced back to the present as he curled closer to you.

"Is he still looking?"

You giggled, leaning into Levi more. You shyly ducked your head, eyes searching until-

You tapped twice, and he nodded, separating himself from you just as easily as he had latched on. You tried not to feel bereft at the absence, but losing his warmth left you inexplicably chilled. Your arm fell to your side, feeling heavier than before. Your fingers tapped out against nothing. You felt wrong, jittery, like when your knife wasn't in its sheath against your hip.

You didn't know when you began this game of faking intimacy with Levi. The people in the underground who cared enough to form an opinion figured you were an item, practically sewn together at the hip for how little you were apart. Those who didn't put too much thought into it figured you were a hired lady who was very good at her job. Either way, you reasoned sensibly, it made them think you were a bystander, prey, a victim ready to be made. They didn't see you as the loaded gun you were, the livewire life had made you into. It worked to your advantage plenty of times, and so you supposed that's why Levi kept doing it. Why else would he keep you so close?

But rationality didn't reason away the skip and jump in your pulse when he pulled you close, the longing in your chest when he hugged you tightly to get a view on what was behind you. It didn't remove the way your mind ran in circles, caught between wishing it was all real and knowing it was just-

Just Levi. Levi the Survivor. Levi the Strategist. The boy who knew just what he had to do to survive. He reminded you so much of Miss Kuchel. Your heart ached at the thought of her. Of how proud she would be of her son.

You chased away the cold of his absence with the thought. He'll never be alone, you had promised her solemnly. The vow had become a prayer, had become a touchstone, a whisper to Miss Kuchels ghost and your weary soul. Never alone, never again.

Levi led you cautiously out of the market, constantly looking over his shoulder for that mop of blonde in case he was tailing you. You trailed along behind him, happy to linger in the silence of the walk home beside him. For once, Levi seemed the one eager to talk.

He called your name, slowing his pace so you could walk side by side. "I've gotten a job offer, from a local boss. Wants me to help him defend a merchant on their way through the underground... It pays."

You considered his words, slowly. "And?" You asked, feeling unbalanced and unsure of how to continue. Something felt wrong, felt off.

"I'd be gone, probably for a week."

You were confused, now. "Well... I would be coming with you, of course."

He pursed his lips, narrowed eyes checking behind you once more. "No, not on this one. His group... They don't work well with women."

You scoffed, feeling tense and confused by his rejection. "Neither does any other bastard here. Why should that stop us?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, reopened it once more. He was unsure, for the first time, of what to tell you.

"I don't think you should come along." He finally decided on, and you puffed up like a kicked cat.

"The hell do you mean? Levi, we're supposed to stick together," you hissed, "protect each other."

He shook his head sharply, becoming aggravated, and you became jittery. "I need to start taking real jobs, then we can stop stealing shit like we're still kids."

You were angry. He was leaving you behind. He was ignoring your history of saving each other and leaving you in the dust because some crime ring out there had decided he was the one they wanted, and you were a woman so you were only good for lying on your back. You shook your head in disbelief. "So what? We split up because some asshole cant see past my tits? You wanna work for someone like that? You know I'm more than capable!"

He gripped your shoulders, looking you dead in your eyes. "This group is little better than rabid dogs. I don't want you near that filth. Not until I have them trained."

You looked at him, pained and wary and more guarded against him than you'd been since you were six years old. But still, you knew this was a losing battle. He would leave you, regardless of your reaction, and take this job. Levi never gave an inch, but he always took a mile. And this was the part of him you would hate, if you had it in you to hate anything about him. The fragment of him that treated you like his ward, like he couldn’t trust you to tie your own shoe, let alone keep him from being stabbed in the back by some gutter rat.

Fine, you decided. If he was gone.. You'd show him you could care for yourself, without him. You shouldered past him, pushing away your mounting anxiety at being separated from him for a week.

You sighed, sharp and frustrated with the hand the day had dealt you, and finally bit out a "fine, but you had better come back to me".

He looked relieved at your surrender and ruffled your hair. "I will, brat."

You growled, smacking his hand away. "I might as well not turn it into a fight. God knows how either of us would feel if... If something happened while we weren't together."

Levi grimaced, "Stop worrying." He ordered, words clipped as he began to herd you back to your house. He reached for you again, oddly enough, but you skittered away. You couldn’t let him think this was something that didn’t bother you, didn’t hurt you.

You remained tense as you laid in bed that night. You would force your muscles to relax, shoulders to unhunch, teeth to cease their grinding, and then moments later find yourself doing it all again.

You felt like you were being left behind. Outgrown. And what stung the most is that even before Levi became a one man firing squad, you would've never dreamt of telling him you didn't want him on a job. He belonged by your side, you thought.

You gazed at his sleeping features, long since racked out and peaceful in sleep. You felt a flutter in your chest.

He clearly didn't feel the same.

Levi left in the middle of the night half a week later. You vaguely remembered his form hovering over you in your sleep, pulling you close and tight against his chest and pressing his lips to your forehead. You had figured it was just another wistful dream and went back to sleep.

When you awoke and he was gone, you fought the urge to either break something or blush ten shades of red. That little fucker hadn't told you when he was leaving. You weren't ready. He knew you weren’t ready. Probably thought you would try to follow him.

You languished in your bed the first day, huddled in blankets and feeling pitiful. The second day, hunger and frustration forced you out, and you neatly robbed a vendor of bread and some thick broth. You stole another a few minutes later to drop to the dirty street urchin you noticed huddled in an alley way.

You toyed with the idea of asking around about Kenny, for old times sake, but decided against it. Either he was dead, or he wanted to leave. Either way, there wasn't anything for you to do about it. So, with a full stomach and more melancholy, you headed home.

You toyed with your knife, you tested the weight of it as if you hadn't learned it's center the night Levi had given it to you. You threw it cleanly and precisely into the wall. You withdrew it, and repeated the action, again and again.

Kenny would be proud, really. You hadn't practiced one of those pretty tricks you used to be so proud of since you and Levi had killed those boys.

The knife struck the wall again with a satisfying thud. Then the voice came.

"Impressive."

For half a moment, you thought it was Kenny, peering at you from the rickety second floor overhand, watching you train. But Kenny had taught you not to believe in any miracle that wasn't Ackerman blood, and you lunged for the hilt of the knife sticking from the wall.

A gun racked behind you.

"Please don't."

Your fingers froze, clutching the blade so tight the skin on your finger tips broke on the edge. You took a deep, rattling breath. Okay.

You really hoped he didn't want to shoot you.

You released the knife, turning. Your hands were held out in submission.  You blinked, looking at the tall blonde before you in surprise.

"You're that motherfucker from the other day!" You snarled, "how long have you been waiting? What do you want from us?"

He grinned at your descriptor of him. "I don't see an us here."

You bore your teeth now, furious, "so you waited until he left? For what? You gonna try to sell me?"

He laughed, then, shaking his head, gun wobbling.

“Nah. I don’t trade in little girls. But I do have an offer for you. If you’re interested?” 

You considered your position, and figured that you would be damn lucky if he didn’t kill you and leave your body there to decompose until Levi finally made it back. Fuck, Levi.

“I don’t negotiate well under pressure.” you finally said, nodding at the gun he had loosely grasped in his hands. He chuckled, and lowered the weapon. 

“I think I can work with that.”

Half an hour and two cups of weak tea later, you felt like you could trust Furlan. He was chatty, and friendly in his own point-a-gun-at-you way. You hadn’t talked this much in a while with anyone besides Levi. It was odd, but not unwelcome you supposed. 

“So, there’s a cargo transport through the underground, and you have no idea what’s in it, but you think its worth stealing? And you want to recruit Levi and I?” you recapped. 

He grunted, shaking his head, and set his tea down with a clank. “No, not Levi. We’d have to leave tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest to cut it off. We don’t have time to wait.”

“Levi and I are a team.” you told him sternly, and Furlan raised an eyebrow at you. You fought the urge to throw your cup at his stupid smug face. 

He stayed silent for a moment (probably sensing your bloodlust), deliberating the cost of his next words, rolling them in his mouth, before deciding to speak. “If you’re a team, why are you here alone?” 

The statement hit its mark, and you flinched. “I... he just didn’t think I was right for the job.” 

“Well, I don’t think he’s right for this one. I can’t wait for him either. So, are you in or not? You can’t spend your life waiting for him to think you’re the right one.” these words, too, hit home.

You thought, for a moment, about how you never wanted to be without Levi. Thought of how he left you behind, how he clearly didn’t mind you being left alone. You considered what would have happened, had Furlan been a trafficker, or just wanted you dead. 

Levi had left you, was outgrowing you. For once never alone didn’t calm you. It felt like an empty promise. Levi wouldn’t be alone. He would always have someone who wanted him now. You, however... you needed security. Before he decided carrying you wasn’t worth the weight. Furlan was tall and strong and he was offering you a chance, ignoring your gender and age. 

You thrust your hand across the table. 

“I want whatever cut it is that you give yourself,” you demanded, “I won’t be paid like a rookie. I know I’m worth more.”

Furlan grinned, slapping his hand into yours and shaking it. His teeth were sharper in the light, even if his smile was warmer, more pleased. 

“y/n, you and I have a deal.”

“Christ, Furlan, you didn’t say we’d be travelling for three days,” Ponye, a tall brunet boy griped. Furlan shrugged, sipping from his mug of warm tea. 

Amaretto, or Ma, a portly sharpshooter, shoved Ponye, nearly knocking him over. “Quit gripin, brat. We’re gonna be rich after all this craps over. Walking for a few days ain’t worth that to ya?” she scolded, and the boy hunkered down. 

“It’s just, I woulda bought new shoes if I’da known.”

Furlan grinned, “You don’t have the money for that, Pon. But you will when we’re done here. C’mon, break time’s over. Time to scramble. Cartel should be through the bottleneck in a couple hours. We gotta set up.”

You heaved to your feet, still observing the small group. There was Ponye, who was younger than you expected him to be, but still strong and angry. There was Amaretto, who had a gimp leg but could shoot out someone’s kneecaps from blocks away. There was Jakobs, who had more knives strapped to him than some vendors had in stock, and who had a wit about as sharp as the blades on them. There was Kur, a small dark haired boy who you forgot was there half the time. Then there was Furlan, who was far more stoic in front of the team he had chosen for this robbery, who seemed to look to you before anyone else for your opinion. You found it odd, to be looked at without lecherous intent by someone other than Levi. 

You began to trail behind the blonde, following him through alleyways even as the group began to disperse to their assigned locations. He had insisted on having you with him, for some reason, and you tried to not be too suspicious. You just couldn’t understand how he valued you as a right hand over Jakobs or Ma. You didn’t feel so far away from the skinny girl who stole bread for her dark haired friend, from the one who needed to be held and carried everywhere by your mother or Miss.

You didn’t ask questions, reminding yourself that this job was an in, a way to make more money than you’d seen since you sold all that medicine back when Miss Kuchel passed. Walls, maybe you could even get out of the underground. Then you and Levi could... 

Well, you didn’t even know where to start. 

You fingered the hilt of your knife on your hip. You hoped Levi was ok, that wherever he was he was safe. You hoped no one had a heist like this planned against him. Not that it would make a difference. Levi was a one man army, and you had faith he would come back to you. 

You followed Furlan up a ladder onto a roof, settling beside him. 

“You ever been out of your corner of the underground?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“Once. When I was younger. Stole some medicine.” you carefully chose your words, deciding what information to dole out to him. 

He hummed, looking at you, through you. You got this unnerving feeling that he knew what had happened, without you even saying. “I had a sister. Had to steal medicine for her too.”

You looked at him. “I’m sorry.” you finally decided on, not missing his past tense. He had a sister, like you had a mother, and had Miss to take care of you. 

Furlan shrugged your words off. “It’s all over now. All that’s left is to wait to get to see her again, I suppose.” 

“Hopefully you make it a long one. I doubt she’d want to see you again too soon.” 

He laughed, and nodded, “She’d probably kill me if we meet again before I’ve gone gray. She always had such high expectations for my life expectancy.”

You grinned, trying to picture a girl like Furlan. Tall and blonde and quick to smile, sternly telling her younger brother that he’d better live a long and good life. “What was her name?” 

“Frannie. She was always chasing after me and mothering me. I guess that’s what I get for being the younger one,” he sighed, wistful, “I hope that she would be proud of me, you know?”

You thought of your mom, of Miss Kuchel.

 “Yeah, Fur, I know.”

Furlan was an easy man to pass the time with, and soon enough you heard the hooves of horses clicking on the battered cobblestones lining the alleyway. 

You knew the plan, had been repeating it for three days. You and Furlan and Jakobs go in, work on distracting the guards. Ma keeps an eye from her snipers perch, ready to shoot if things get too harried. Ponye runs interference on the otherside of the bottleneck. Kur has the quick job of stealing the cart while everyone’s distracted. 

You didn’t realize how quickly things can go wrong. 

Furlan takes down one guard relatively quick, knocking him to the ground and kicking him cleanly in the head so he goes limp and quiet, incapacitated. You deal with yours in a similar manner. You turn to look at Jakobs when you hear a gunshot. 

At first, you think it’s Ma, saving your ass, but-

-fuck. 

You hear her shout, and see Jakobs slumped against a wall. It takes you half a moment to figure out what you’re even looking at. Half his face has been blown away, bits of blood and viscera splattering the brick behind him. The wide brimmed hat he wore is in tatters, hanging limply on his slumped shoulder. You watch the blood trickle down from the cavity in his head cover one of the hilts of his knives. 

The guard turns to you, and grins. She raises the gun again. You hear a shot.

Levi, you think, I’m so sorry. 

Blood splatters your face covering. Ma, bless her, has shot her stomach wide open with a bullet the size of your finger. She gurgles, and it reminds you of the wet sloshing sound of Vic’s entrails before she hits the ground. 

Fuck, Jakobs.

You hadn’t known him well. He rarely spoke to any of you. But... he had been kind. He had complimented the knife Levi got you. You showed him a few of your tricks and he had laughed and told you they were impressive. He had been kind. 

That was so rare, down here.

You wished you had been the one to kill her, for him. 

Furlan stooped down to look at Jakobs. He fixed his hat as much as he could, murmured an apology, and stood. 

“Let’s go. His cut... it’ll go to his family.”

Here, too, Furlan was better than any boss you had known. Usually, if a man died, it was a bigger cut for everyone else. But Furlan...  

You didn’t bother with being quiet anymore. After those gunshots, the guards had to know what the fuck was going on back here. Either they chose not to help, or they thought you were both dead, and either way their nerves would be frazzled.

You clutched your knife. It hadn’t been sharpened in days, not since Levi left. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

You look through the alley opening to the cart. Old hickory wood and green fabrics and crates make up your objective, and you take stock of the guards surrounding it. Two, but you know there should be at least one more. The driver is there, looking ready to shit herself, and you almost feel bad for her. One of the guards had a dirtied MP logo on his shoulder, and you wonder briefly why he defected to come down to the underground of all places. 

You twirl your knife and lunge at him, vowing to make him regret it. Furlan follows you a beat too late, left to mop up the remaining guard. However, you are intercepted midway. 

The third guard is there, battering you away from the MP, and two others behind him swiftly advance on Furlan. Ponye is tied up and gagged by the entrance of the bottleneck, bleeding from a slash across his eyebrow, and you snarl. 

“Fuckers!” 

You attack him, fueled by anger and the bitterness of a plan gone wrong. Furlan cries out behind you, but you refuse to turn to look, remembering how the first man you had killed almost got the upper hand on you due to your worry for Levi. 

You duck a punch from your hooded attacker, skitter back from a swipe of a blade to your ribs. The knife catches your arm from where you stretched it to counterbalance yourself, and you hiss, bringing your knee up sharply to nail him in the gut. He lets out a wheeze, hunching over himself, and you lunge to kick him over. 

He twists out of the way, looking furious, and plunges his blade towards you. You screech and wheel backwards. You lash out, knocking one of his legs out from him as his knife catches your face, your head covering, and rips skin and fabric alike. You yowl, half blind from the blood running into your eye, and the fluid drips into your mouth. You try not to gag. Fuck, Levi is gonna be so mad when he sees me, you think.

You’re right. 

You hear him snarl your name, and you think you’re going insane. You lunge at the guard again, and he smacks your hit away, clutching you around the waist. You snarl and fight against him, until the voice from under his hood calling you a stupid brat, and a dumb bastard filters into your ears. Holy fuck, you think, no fucking way.

“...Levi?” 

He hisses, furious, shoving you away from him, and turns. He lunges at the guard holding Furlan hostage and drives his knife into his throat, clearing the windpipe easily. The man gurgles and drops, and Furlan splutters and nearly drops with him. 

You think you’re actually going insane, now. Confused and probably concussed and halfway to blind from steadily clotting blood, you watch as Levi turns into a bloody whirlwind, hacking and slashing and destroying every guard in sight. He watches the driver run away screaming and doesn’t pursue her. 

Furlan finds you in the middle of this, grabbing you hastily around the waist and hauling you into the cart. You try to speak, to tell him that this was Levi. But you felt so tired, and your head hurt so much, and... 

You don’t wanna say you blacked out. In fact, you refuse to. You just lost track of some time. You don’t know how you end up back at the safe house with Ma and Kur and Ponye exactly, but you were awake for it, by the walls. Kur ties a strap around the gash on your head, and part of you wants to pretend its Levi but...

“Did you know?” you ask Furlan, and you can feel the dried blood on your lips, can taste iron on your teeth. You feel like an old woman and an old god at once, staring down the tall blonde. 

He blinks at you with his one unblackened eye. “I was unsure.” 

You stand unsteadily, wobbling to your feet. You feel nausea roll up your throat like the tide. “And you didn’t tell me?” you asked, calm and covered in the blood of Jakob and the woman who killed him and you, all mixing together into a dried and tacky river of red.

“I didn’t think it wise to worry you,” he tries, but his eyes are panicked and flickering between Ma and Ponye. 

You snarl, and punch him in his unbruised eye. Kur moves to pull you away, but you shove him off. “Bullshit! You knew this score inside and out. You knew he was here. You fucking knew!”

Furlan picks himself up from where he stumbled into a table. “I wasn’t sure. The possibility of him being there wasn’t enough of a deterrent. Not from this big of a score.” 

“Ma could have killed him!” you rage, now completely unhinged in your anger, “He could have killed me! We could have been left alone!”

“Guys,” Ponye tries to interrupt. 

Furlan bowls over him, unwilling to lose this argument. “Whatever is in those crates was worth the risk!”

“Guys!” Ponye tries again. 

“Was it worth Jakob’s life, though?” Kur murmurs. 

The room falls to a hush. You feel eyes on you, on your blood stained skin and still sticky clothes. You feel like you’ll be sick.

You hear footsteps. 

“So, you got the gear? I was hoping you would get my messages. Didn’t think you would bring her along though.” 

Furlan stammers, coughs, and you turn towards that familiar voice. 

You want to scream and lunge at him, to hug him until everything goes away, until you’re both safe and warm but something in his eyes keeps you at bay. You’d never seen him look so... empty, before. He looks at you, and you feel like he can’t stand the sight. 

“That was you? Giving me the intel?” Furlan finally manages, and Levi huffs, tearing his eyes from you to look at the badly beaten Furlan. 

He hums an affirmative, finally, “I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t know they had a gun.” 

“His family will be taken care of,” Ma promises, looking stern and determined. “I’ll see to it.” 

Levi nods, seemingly pleased by the news, and walks past you to stare into the crate Ponye had cracked while you were arguing. 

He makes a startled sound you hadn’t heard from him since you’d gotten your revenge for that worm on your pillow, and Ponye is practically vibrating. 

“Guys!” he finally breaks, slinging an arm around Kur and nearly shaking the boy, “We’re gonna be fucking rich! Look at this shit!” 

You walk up and peer over Ma’s shoulder. You feel your heart skip a beat. Now that old MP made sense. 

“Holy walls,” you murmur, “Is that...?”

Levi smiles then, a cruel and sharp little thing, but he still won’t look at you. It feels wrong. 

“Yeah. We were transporting eight crates of Three Dimensional Maneuvering Gear.”

#i have not proofread this #i will not #sorry its bad #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman headcanons #snk fanfiction #snk #snk headcanons #snk imagines #aot #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #farlan church #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan imagine

[narrators-journal]

The most dangerous game

I know I’ve been hella dead, but I return with my usual! Stano smut! I dunno why I adore writing these two so much, but I guess I’m attached, so yeah. Ya’ll get content.

CW: Predator/prey vibes, Xeno gets chased but there’s no real big acknowledgement of it.

It was likely because Xeno had developed a persistently wonky sleep schedule that he got so many night time jobs. That, he supposed, was why he was once again out at night hunting another Vampire, despite having told his boss of his run-in with a particularly pretty vampire. However, at the moment, Xeno somewhat wished he was dealing with Stan instead. At least with him he could rely on his need to flirt and toy with him to give him away. But no, the scientist wasn't hunting Stanley, but instead a completely different vampire who was proving his dislike for hunting the blood sucking monsters. Taking advantage of how dark the night was, the human's weaker vision, and whatever ninja techniques he had learned from the internet, the young vampire had hidden annoyingly well in the thick blanket of shadows and clutter on the streets. So, the white-haired college graduate was poking around at every rock and thicket of grass or bushes along the sidewalk before the boiling irritation in his veins got to be too much and he let out a mix of a groan and a scream like a tea pot. Stomping over to one of the few flickering street lights on the road, the hunter stood in the light and dug out his knife, then used it to slash at his stomach to fill the air with the alluring scent of fresh blood. With a pained hiss and the new wet feeling of blood dripping sluggishly down his pale skin, the trap was set, and all the hunter had to do was wait for the shallow cut to work its magic. Which, didn't take long. All Xeno had time to do was get one of his metal stakes from his pocket and extend it, then he was set upon by the vampiric ninja-wannabe. However, despite his skill at stealth, the vampire was young in both a human and vampire sense. Freshly turned at a young age, he'd become a problem because he had yet to grow out of his pubescent hormones quite yet, and giving him a predatory draw and increased strength had only encouraged him to turn hard into the bad boy persona. Sadly, being a new vampire wasn't all improvements. It also meant an increased hunger and little control of your newfound strength. Which is what had led the young man to be targetted by the monster hunter association, and swiftly wiped out by a stake through the throat via Xeno Wingfield. With a grunt, the monster hunter threw the freshly dead young man to the sidewalk, wincing at the burning and itching sting bending down to yank the stake from his throat brought to his stomach. For a moment or so, he felt bad for the creature. He'd been young, and he'd let his newfound powers obviously go to his head after a lifetime diet of anime and movies, the silver haired hunter could understand his over excitement, but he also had little to no patience for dumbasses who couldn't register that they weren't in Naruto. So, his sympathy was brief, and he was soon just dragging the young creature's corpse into some bushes and calling the cleaning crew to come collect him. Then. He spoke.           "God damn, Doll. You're quite attractive when you're being lethal." Stan hummed, hopping down from his hiding spot in a nearby tree and giving the hunter a charming smile that he refused to admit brought a little heat to his face.         "Oh, so you're just gonna become a full blown stalker now? Did you follow me from my house, or was this another 'coincidental' run-in." Xeno's words dripped with sarcasm and venom, but the vampire simply rolled his glacial blue eyes,          "Actually, I'm here because I smelled fresh blood," At the mention of fresh blood, the scientist glanced down at his work shirt, spotting the tiny stain of blood his cut had left,          "Oh." He inwardly winced at how disappointed he sounded, but tried to recover with a sniff, "I had trouble luring the bastard out. It was quite the shock for me to find out that not every vampire would want to chase me down and prowl around my house for the entire fucking night." Stan simply snorted, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one before he spoke again,          "Nah, that's just my thing, doll,"         "Quit calling me doll! You have my name now, fucking quit." The vampire put his hands up in mock surrender, though his smirk didn't falter under the scientist's withering glare. For a moment, they simply stood in the cool night's darkness, the hunter with his arms crossed and dark eyes narrowed, and the vampire returning his malicious look with his own nonchalant, half-lidded one while he breathed whispy smoke from his dark mouth. Both men seemed to dare the other to say something or do anything, each looking for an excuse to make some sort of contact until the smaller male spoke again,           "Are you expecting me to run away? Because I told you the first time we met, I'm not likely to do that," He huffed, but Stan simply shrugged,           "I'm just messing with ya, doesn't matter to me if you run or not." He grinned more at the lightning fast moment of irritation on Xeno's face, but the hunter schooled his facial features back into their usual disdain-filled glare, only broiling with frustration on the inside. He hated this man's relaxed demeanor. He was a monster hunter, the tall, hypnotically pretty predator should be avoiding him at all costs. Yet here he was, needling at him as if he couldn't end him just as quickly as he had the younger blood sucker. Okay, well, not as quickly. Stanley had a good four inches on the monster hunter at least, and had a body that had been frozen at the prime of his life, toned and pruned like an artfully shaped shrub through the years into a gorgeous, powerful example of why humans were the apex predators of the world. Or, well, they were, but with his change into the more monstrous his status as the perfect predator had only increased. Stan was perfectly built to hunt humans. Not only did he have a supernatural magnetic beauty to him, but he'd been human, so he knew how humans behave first hand. He was a nightmarish wet dream. Xeno gave his head a good shake to banish those thoughts from his mind when he realized he was looking the vampire over with the hunger of a sugar baby sizing up their next piggy bank.           "Hey, Xeno," Stan hummed, but the hunter refused to look back at the man, which he simply took as a greenlight to continue, "you wanna play our little game tonight?" The hunter snorted in response, staring off into the darkness while his cheeks cooled,           "I thought you were only here to bother me, not play a game of fucked up tag," He said calmly, only looked back at the man when he heard him walking closer, only stopping when he was about two feet away, maybe within reach, a grin on his pretty face,           "Well, I thought it'd be a bit more polite to offer that rather than just asking if I could drink your blood outright." he reasoned, amused at the edge of poutiness that he seemed to sniff out through the veil of aloof indifference the hunter spoke with.            "No thanks to either offer, I don't want to be chased tonight." Xeno sniffed in response, simply adding a thicker layer of ill temper to cover how excited he was at the thought of being pursued a second time. The first time had, admittedly, given him a thrill, but he wasn't ready to voice such to the annoying vampire in front of him. However, Stan seemed to have picked up on his kryptonite from that first round,              "But aren't you curious to see what happens when you add the scent of blood to the mix?" The purr in the man's voice annoyed Xeno immensely, but the thought of maybe learning just how sensitive vampire instincts were, and how quickly one would succumb to them. Obviously young vampires are more prone to being controlled by their need to feed, but Stanley isn't a new vampire, that curious voice mused, already setting Xeno on a very likely stupid and dangerous path, It'd be immensely helpful to know just how easy it is to bring out those base urges in him. If he's going to follow you around it's best to know what to avoid so he doesn't go feral. It further encouraged, stoking the flames of the scientist's natural curiosity until he hummed,              "I suppose it would be useful for the association to know exactly what triggers a vampire to go into a frenzy of some sort. Fine." The vampire grinned at that,             "You do know that I can't promise my feeding instinct is the only one that'll come to the surface," he pointed out, making Xeno blink and raise an eyebrow at him,             "What? Why would any other instinct come into play?" turning red as Stan laughed,               "Well, in simple terms, I find you too attractive to promise that when I catch you I'd only want to drink your blood~" Xeno's face warmed up more at that, getting huffy and tripping over his words in his rush to snap at him.               "You can have a five minute head start, just like last time," he simply assured, "Just need a bit of blood, because your original scratch has closed," He laughed more when Xeno pulled up his shirt to see that his shallow cut from earlier had in fact begun to heal, no longer bleeding and instead beginning to scab over. The hunter only responded with a glare at that point as he plucked his knife from the sidewalk where he'd dropped it and wiped it off before leaving another cut along his stomach, this one a bit deeper than the first, but not enough to linger for more than a day or two. With that, Stan gave him a charming smile that showed his extending fangs, his blue eyes already getting a hungry gleam to them. So, without further conversation, Xeno took off down the street. The cuts on his stomach stung and itched more from his running, but he pressed on. His main concern was regulating his breathing and energy so that he could get as far away from the vampire as he could in his small window of time. Naturally, his plan wasn't to just run in a straight line and wait to be caught, not only would that likely be dangerous, as a vampire in a feeding frenzy was much more violent, but was less likely to fulfill the goal of bringing those deadly instincts to the surface at all. So, instead, he sought out other people, a crowded area, maybe a shop, that way it wasn't as easy for the predator to catch up to him. This is insanely stupid, that voice of reason finally spoke up, not only am I playing with fire by instigating an instinctual reaction, but I am woefully under prepared to run from Stan. He realized, filling his veins with icy terror when the weight of his situation fully sunk in, The first time we did this I barely survive on pure panic and him toying with me. If he really loses his shit and goes into a frenzy, I can't outrun him. The reality of the thought hurt, but it was sorely true. Despite all of his training as a monster hunter, Xeno had never been one for good cardio, namely in the stamina category. He relied on his wits and pure speed, not his ability to maintain those speedy response times or pace for long periods. but it's too late now, he reminded himself, thinking back to the way the vampire's fangs had extended so soon after he'd given him a fresh source of scent. Nope, he couldn't chicken out now. He had no choice but to stick to his plan and push the panic and fear aside. Instead, he simply focused on the route ahead of him and locked onto the light of a store further down the street, which he headed for instantly. The bright, artificial light blinded the pale scientist for a moment when he stumbled into the store, but he was swift to regain his barrings and dash down the aisles and through the crowds of night owls and whatnot that were still up at this hour. He knew that his five minutes had ended a minute or so before. Meaning he didn't have long before the vampire would be on his ass. So, thinking quickly, he swiped his hand over his wounds, then smeared the blood on his palm onto the tile flooring in an aisle. Once he had that down, Xeno ran off deeper into the store. He had very few places to hide. The bathroom was basically a dead end with no windows and only one door, he couldn't climb up the shelves or to the rafters in a timely manner, so he forwent that plan. Instead, he did the next best thing. leaving as distracting a trail as possible before bolting out one of the fire exits.            "Shit," he wheezed when the fire exit triggered a screaming alarm through out the store. If Stan was in there, he'd definitely know he got out now, but that only meant the scientist had less time to think of such things. He had to focus on running. So, Xeno ignored the way his legs throbbed, and his lungs ached from gulping down the cold night air. He focused entirely on getting home, or at least to a more residential area. He could feel his limbs getting heavier, threatening more and more to give out with each step, but his grit his teeth and bared it until the threat became reality and the asphalt bit into his skin. And there he laid for a few seconds, gasping for air and scraping up as much energy as he could to push himself to his feet. As he did, he glanced back down the street, and sure enough. Stanley was coming out of the alley Xeno'd run out of, his glowing blue eyes locking onto the scientist in an instant. With another curse spat out through gritted teeth, Xeno took off again. His legs still screamed from exhaustion, and now his hands stung viciously from the fall, but he kept going. He could hear Stan closing in on him, which gave him a final burst of frantic energy that carried him to at least the park near his home before the vampire finally tackled him to the grass. The scientist could only wheeze in response, letting the vampire crush against him and push his face into his pale neck with a growl. That seemed to snap him out of the exhaustion cloud, and in an instant, Xeno was squirming and forcing himself up once again. The only way he managed it was because the vampire was taken by surprise, so he was able to slip from his grasp and scramble up, but he only got a few more steps before he had to lean against a tree for support so that his legs didn't crumble a third time. Then, just as quickly as he'd gotten away, Xeno was back in Stan's luke-warm arms, trapped against his needlessly heaving chest with his fangs hovering over his jugular once more. However, he didn't bite down. To the contrary, the feral vampire seemed to hesitate for a moment, seemingly weighing his options of what to do with the hunter before settling on a choice and swiftly switching to almost slamming him against the nearest tree.           "S-Stanley!" The hunter wheezed, more surprised then anything, pushing back so that his face at least wasn't forced into the course bark and he could look back to try and see the blonde behind him. Said blonde was keeping him in place with a hand on one of his shoulders, looking Xeno in the eye and almost relishing the dawning realization that painted his pale cheeks before he used his free hand to hook into his pants and tug them down pretty roughly. Then, he was back at the man's neck, but this time he bit with his blunter teeth, sucking at the skin until Xeno's mewls and hums were pulled out and he was satisfied with the hickey he'd left. The scientist, meanwhile was a bit ashamed of how quickly he accepted the turn of events. He tried to save some face by muffling the noises bubbling in his throat, but Stan's mouth at his neck, paired with the way he ground his groin into his now-bear rear drug a few noises out. Though, it also bat back the fog of hormones and lust long enough for the hunter to realize that he was very likely to get hurt if he didn't intervene. So, he whined and reached up to tangle his fingers in Stan's messy hair, tugging at it until he finally relinquished his throat from the second hickey he was dedicated on leaving. Carefully, Xeno turned himself around with what little room he was permitted between the vampire's muscular chest and the much-less-forgiving tree. Once they were face to face though, the college graduate's brain no longer seemed to work, so, the two simply stood there, panting a bit from the chase, before he finally gave up on using words and instead simply sunk down to his knees. Keeping his eyes glued to the glowing blue pair above him as he went. Luckily enough for him, his actions at least intrigued the vampire, because he was allowed to tug his bottoms down just enough for his member to spring free, which earned him a noise somewhere between a growl and a hum. With Stan's pants down and his member now standing erect in front of him, Xeno hesitated. Should it matter if I'm any good at this sort of shit? I just need some sort of lubrication, and he shouldn't really care about anything beyond...mating, so surely he won't give a shit, right? He asked himself, puzzling over the predicament before Stan reached down to grab onto his shirt, reminding the scientist of his lack of patience. So, Xeno threw his insecurities to the wind and grabbed onto the base of the shaft so he could slip Stan's impatient member into his mouth. The vampire moaned in response, and Xeno took that as a sign that he'd bought a bit more time for himself. So, he slowed down, bobbing his head at a medium sort of pace to work himself up to taking as much of the length as he could, which, thankfully for him, was almost all of it thanks to years of speed-drinking coffee and energy drinks and eating at record speeds in college. He also found that once he actually got to moving, the embarrassment of his lack of skills faded away, and part of him simply enjoyed the groans he got out of Stan while he moved his lips up and down him at a steady pace. He simply continued to work him as much as he could until the vampire let out a little hiss and gripped onto the scientist's shirt until he pulled away and let his throbbing member go with a coy 'pop'. Suddenly, Xeno was yanked back to his feet and whirled around again to be slammed back into the tree. His pants were tugged down once more and his feet were kicked apart in rapid succession so the monster hunter only got a moment's break before Stan pushed into him. And while it hurt still, the white-haired man found that he didn't mind as much. As the vampire began thrusting into him, one hand clawing into his hip, the other on his shoulder, Xeno moaned out curses and did his best to grab onto the tree or Stan's neck to keep steady under the merciless thrusts of the blonde. It was shameful how hot his body got, but with how Stan was hitting that sweetspot within Xeno, his face back to being buried in his neck for more marks, Xeno couldn't care less.        "Mmmm, fuck! ah, r-right there, please!" he plead, tangling his fingers back into Stan's hair as he moaned, giving another lewd noise when his pursuer did as he asked, swiftly learning that doing so got more needy noises from the hormone-addled hunter. With that, Xeno lost all coherency as euphoria further fogged his mind, and soon brought him to his peak with a whine of the vampire's name. Though, Stan didn't stop when Xeno came, he just kept thrusting into him, still flooding his pale body with more and more pleasure while his hot puffs of breath tickled his hickey-littered neck. The continued rough treatment was beginning to sting, but the edge of pain only seemed to bolster Xeno's pleasure back to its peak, pushing a second orgasm from him before Stan finally grew sloppy with his thrusts and soon gave one final movement before emptying himself into the hunter. After that, the monster hunter let himself melt against the tree, relying on Stanley to hold him up because he was on the verge of passing out after that night's activities. The last thing Xeno remembered was giving a thumbs up to what he assumed was the question 'are you okay'. Then, he let his exhaustion take him into dreamland.

#dr stone #drst #stanXeno #Stan x Xeno #monster au #scenario #vampire!Stan #Monster hunter!Xeno #not sfw

[stardancerluv]

Punishments

Part 3

Summary: Reader finds out something very interesting about Roman. And he realizes something about having Reader in his life.

Note: very angsty but ends well. Very early in their relationship. Takes please amongst the chapters of Creative Fervor. Oral!Female receiving, fingering. Also I include this under Punishments because Roman get angry at reader.

Left to your own devices in the room Bruce gave you to work in and the hours flew by. Pausing to stretch you realized how late you had been working. Shit, you muttered to yourself. You were supposed to be there for Roman tonight.

You quickly packed up your stuff and quickly made your way to the foyer. Pulling your phone out, you looked down, you saw that Roman had called and you missed some messages. You felt horrible.

You stood there a moment, trying to text Roman or Victor so someone could come and get you. No one answered.

“Is there a problem Miss L/N?” Asked the ever sweet and patient Alfred.

“I’m fine.” You squeaked.

“Miss L/N, Master Wayne would say the same thing with grass stains and scraped knees, I know other wise.” He gave you a warm smile.

You giggled and shook your head. “I bet.” You smiled. “I was trying to get a hold of Romy, I mean Roman to send the driver over. He’s probably in a meeting.” You pressed your lips together.

His smile wavered but remained. “I can drive you back sweetheart.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. You can’t be taking a taxi this time of day. Give me but a moment.”

“Alfred, really?” He nodded. “Thank you.”

When he disappeared you tried again. But he still wasn’t answering. Your heart sank. Quickly, you slipped into the bathroom, that was nearby on this floor. Your heart sank further. You literally looked like you had been working all day. Your hands were caked with pencil and pastels dust. There were smudges here and there on your face.

You tried to clean up a bit but it only worked a bit. Sighing, you went back out to wait for Alfred.

“Y/N, I completely forgot you were here. I would have told you to head on home.”

You smiled up at Bruce. “It’s ok, its my fault. I completely got distracted.”

“One of those nights, I got tied up myself with a slew of phone calls”

“On your way to function tonight?” He looked incredibly sharp in his black suit. You knew from what you read about him time to time he liked to show up late and leave early.

He shook his head, “Tomorrow.”

“Ahh.” Looking past him, you saw Alfred pull up. “We can talk later and settle when it will be good for me to come back.”

“Yes, definitely.” You smiled. “There’s Alfred, you have a good night.” You added.

“Oh,” He smiled. “I’m coming with!” His tone was light. “I haven’t been to Roman’s in forever, I could use a drink and perhaps him and I could catch up. And of course, I have to apologize to him for keeping you so late.”

“You don’t have to, Roman knows I lose myself in my work.”

“Well, then just a drink could be nice.”

“Ok.” You tried to sound enthusiastic. You knew Roman was not particularly fond of him.

******

You walked into the main entrance to the Black Mask with Bruce.

“Bruce, I can’t possibly go any further in looking like this. I will be right back.” You said hurriedly and turned to so you make a dash for the elevator.

He grabbed your arm, you shared a look. “Y/N, you look fine.”

“I can’t possibly, and well, I want to.” You honestly didn’t know what else to say.

“If you insist.” He finally let go of your arm.

You relaxed in the elevator, Roman’s cologne hung in the air. It meant one of two things. Either he was just in it, or he needed more cologne the usual since had just gotten back from the docks handling something. He always felt the stench of being down there would cling to him. Or both. Oddly, just that first sniff and helped you to relax. Bruce was honestly now putting you on edge.

*****

You practically ran to the room you were getting used to sharing with Roman. He let you keep somethings there. Recently staying there was becoming more and more frequent.

Finally with Roman’s fine soaps you cleaned up nicely. Sometimes, it was the little things but finding your brush next to Roman’s comb made you smile after your long day. You ran it through your hair a few times, before going to the closet where you gasped.

Baby,

Huge meeting tonight. Find me.

Bought this for you while I picked up my brand new cufflinks.

You’re beautiful.

R

Damn, he really could be sweet and do the most unexpected things sometimes. You unpinned the note then slipping it on and a pair of heels, you went downstairs to search for Roman.

******

He brushed his sleeve aside. You were still not there. He shifted in his seat, I’ll he flapped his suit jacket, his anger was making him hot.

Gesturing, he motioned for Zsaz, he would not wait any longer. He would make him go and get you from Wayne manor. He checked his phone. Finally, there was a message from you, it pulled relief from him.

“Boss?” Zsaz whispered.

As he was about to read it when he heard the murmurs of the people in his club. He looked up and swallowed down the anger that almost erupted from him like a volcano when he watched as Bruce Wayne walk in.

“What is he fucking doing...” His voice trailed off when he saw you. Then he watched as Bruce grabbed you. He watched as unease blossomed on your paint smudged face. “Get the girl to grab me another fucking drink.”

“Boss?”

He looked up at Zsasz.

“Fine, its just..never mind. Should I have her grab one for Y/N too?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

This was the most he had to drink in well, a while. He did not like how out of control it usually made him feel. Usually a drink was enough to take the edge of his anger. Not tonight, not with you at Wayne Manor. He thought he could handle it.

But everything came flooding back. Is that what caring about someone did, well now he was angrier then he had been in a while. He could still see the unease that had sashed across your face as you looked up at Bruce, he wondered why.

“Roman, my dear friend.”

He gritted his teeth, slid from his seat and turned to the voice. A huge smile was splashed across his face. “Bruce, it has been too long.” The two man shook their hands. “Please have a seat.”

******

Once the elevator opened, you kept your eyes peeled. Where could Roman be. Your heart lifted when you spotted him.

You let yourself swish over to him. You were eager to show him pretty you were in the dress. He had chosen such a lovely dress.

Bruce saw you first and slid from the booth, and Roman slid shortly after. Both gave you smiles.

“Baby.” Roman said softly, and moved so he gave you an ever so brief embrace and something that could barely be considered a peck on the cheek. You had seen him give guests firmer kisses.

Before pulling away you could smell the strong scent of martinis. That was so unlike him. Worry grew in your stomach.

“Look at you. You cleaned up so nicely.” Bruce remarked as you slid into the booth beside Roman.

“Thank you.” Under the table you reached for one of Roman’s gloved hands. You wanted to grab it, give it a squeeze; simply you wanted to feel close to Roman. What he did, hurt deeply. He put your hand on your thigh and moved his hand away.

You tried to swallow down the painful lump that formed in your throat.

“Y/N, I was just telling Roman how we were both distracted with work. Or I would have sent you home sooner.”

You nodded, your voice had vanished.

“I tell her all the time, she works too hard.” A tight smile was across Roman’s face.

You looked at him, his mask for business was up. He had never worn it in relation to you. You didn’t like it. It made the hurt felt grow.

Bruce appeared to soak it all in. All of this made you want to cry and scream. Roman could be formal in front of you towards whomever he was meeting but not wanting your hand, the sorry excuse for a kiss. You could just throw up, you felt ill.

At the moment all you wanted to do was go upstairs, change and go to your loft. You would try and sleep all of this pain off. You could thank him another time, maybe. A half an hour or so later, you had long since zoned out and was on your third drink as they verbally fenced each other when you finally got up.

You turned sharply well, as sharply as your drinks would let you. “Bruce, I’ll call you.” You looked at Roman. “Good night.”

“We will miss your company.” Bruce replied lightly, you did not let him grab your hand.

“Another time.”

“I’ll be up soon.” Roman quickly said.

“Right.” You nodded.

*****

Once upstairs, a tear finally fell from your eye and obscured the note Roman had scrawled out to you earlier.

“You got fucking nerve.” Snarled a voice behind you.

You turned to him. “Oh?” You’d get your belongings later. You were in no mood. “And what does that mean? You said yourself I lose myself in my work, and I do.” You grabbed your purse, you came around from behind that side of the bed. You didn’t want to leave but you were too upset to stay.

He grabbed your arm, you wiggled against his grip and gave up.

“You didn’t fight against Bruce grabbing you.”

“Because he is my employer. Well, you didn’t want my hand earlier.” You spat out. “I am very upset.”

“Really? You’re upset?” His grip tightened, you winced. “Well, I’m furious with you.”

“Why?” You honestly didn’t care, you hurt too much.

“If you were going to humiliate me, why not someone else. Why Bruce Wayne?” He replied back.

“What do you mean? Do you even know how I feel when I am there now, ever since I became your girl or at least was.” You swallowed, that last bit made bile raise.

“What the fuck do you mean?” He mimicked pulling you suddenly so close there was no space between you.

“Listen, I feel welcomed but simultaneously under scrutiny because I am, was your girl.” Saying the last bit broke a part of you. Blinking, you tried desperately to stop the tears that wanted to come.

“What ?” He growled.

“You know what I said. I don’t want to repeat it.” Your cried.

“Is that what you want?” His breathing became heavy.

“No!” You cried looking into those fiery blue eyes. “You barely kiss me when I got to the table and then you push my hand away. You must want it over, if you can barely touch me.” A few tears finally escaped.

“Because I was angry! All day you are working for a man I hate. Then you come back with him in tow.” He barked. “After not hearing from you all day, I imagined things. He grabbed you and you felt embarrassed. I could only assume,” He swallowed became familiar and that is why you rushed off to clean up.”

You looked at him. “Really? You imagined things? You thought that of me?”

“Yes! He is the most eligible bachelor in Gotham. He’s wealthy. Girls are practically lined up with their mouths open.”

“Roman, I can’t believe you.” You muttered, as you tried to hold onto the pain that spread through you.

You could not believe that he would think you’d do that. You were shaken to your core. You managed to finally wiggle free of his grasp. What you did next certainly surprised you.

Instead walking towards the elevator, where you should have done, but instead you went to his office. You went over to his bar, not really thinking you grabbed something you could drink. You twisted the cap off. How did you get to this? How did the two of you get to this? Where was the man you loved with a a great passion. You loved him which till then you thought only ever existed in books.

“Fuck. I...I..”

You turned to Roman, as you continued to down the liquid.

“He’s supposed to be so charming, so good.” He went over to you.

You finally pulled the bottle from your lips. “And to me he is none of that. Well he’s nice enough. But it is you I want. Or wanted.” You slammed the bottle down, could feel the drinks and downing this amber liquid did as it coursed its way through your body. You looked at him. “You’re the one with girls waiting in the wings to blow you.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, well.” He looked sheepish.

“Well, what? Your dancers who fucking hate me, certainly would love to suck on your cock, if you let them. You went over to him. You took off your heels, and despite the inches you lost you continued to look into his blue eyes. “Did I just happened to do it better then any of them? Is that’s why you keep me around with pretty dresses and little notes.” Tears were now streaming down your cheeks. You walked past him. Once in the hall you tore off the beautiful dress and let it fall onto the cold floor.

You went back to what had been your side of the bed, sitting down you grabbed your tshirt and pulled it on.

“Fucking stop.” The sharp edge to his voice, was like a slap. You stopped.

He came over. “You are going to listen.” He grabbed you by your upper arms and moved you so the two you were somehow in the middle of that massive bed. You knew you should probably just fight or leave. All of this hurt so much.

He straddled you, but somehow as he did, he managed to keep his weight off you. Yet he had still managed to keep you in place. You saw something had shifted in his eyes.

“I will never be able to give you the life he has. I could walk out the door tomorrow and never return.”

“I know.” You sobbed.

“So when I didn’t hear from you today first the worry came that maybe someone tried to do something against you.”

“Roman, Zsasz drove me over.” You simply said.

“Please, I have to get this out.” He sighed. “Then I remembered how growing up, I watched him get everything I had ever wanted. Loving parents, all the good grades, the friends. So I thought maybe, just maybe he finally made some grand gesture to show you that deep down he realized that he actually cared for you. And that everything else in my life you had melted and were going to go and be his!”

“No. Never.” You shook your head. “You’re the only one I want to be with.”

“Baby.” His face softened.

“Yes.” You managed to croak out. This was all far too much for you.

He shifted and he kissed you. After first you could barely kiss him back, it was all so much. You just couldn’t, but finally you did. You felt as his hands had moved from holding you in place to holding you, and you accepted it. It helped to melt the pain away.

“Help me take this off of you.” He breathed against your ear. Together you took off your t-shirt. Once it was off he slid down you pressing some kisses here and there. “And these, he paused.

“Roman.” You were so exhausted. “I’m not sure if I can.” Yes, you had grown excited but to have actual sex, you were not sure you could handle actually that.

“All I ask is you let me show you, my love but if not this way, there is another.”

You were stunned and well a little stunned. His voice was as rough, raw as you felt. “Ok, Roman.” You breathed.

“Thank you, now if you want me to ever stop. You tell me do not hesitate.” His face grew serious losing some of the softness that had come to the surface.

“I promise.”

With your help your panties, found their way to the floor beside the bed. Gently you allowed him to open you.

He met your eyes and then you felt him press an incredibly soft kiss on your mound. Your heart fluttered. “Roman.” You breathed. He only smiled and still meeting your eyes, you felt his tongue.

You couldn’t help but call out. It felt so good. His tongue moved and glided over all the right places. It wasn’t long before you arched and were just a mess as your pleasure took a hold. Reaching your fingers nestled in his dark strands.

Words, were impossible. Just sounds. Roman, had never been with you like this. It was amazing. You shook, as you did you felt a his tongue slipped in. It made you called out even louder.

Pausing, he met your eyes as he licked his lips. “Will you cum for me baby?”

Breathlessly you nodded.

“Good.”

He was between your legs once again. As you drew close you couldn’t help pulling gently on his hair but it only made it all the more intense as his tongue was simply amazing.

You called out which was a mixture of his name and a moan. He gave you a soft kiss. As he pulled back. You reached for him.

He smiled, “Just a moment.”

“Ok.” You breathed and trembled. You were completely wilted into the bed.

He came back not long after with some pajama pants laying low on his hip, he had no shirt and looked amazing with his rumbled hair. You watched a he took a sip of water from and glass. He crawled over to you. He pulled you close.

“How is my baby?”

“Amazing, you managed to say.”

“Good. But just wait.” He leaned in close. “I’m not finished. I want to kiss you but didn’t want you to think, I was making you taste yourself.” He kissed a place under your ear. “Will you kiss me?”

“Yes.” It was a hungry kiss. But it broke when you felt as be gently held and then cupped you. “My sweet tasting baby.” He whisperer. You shook in his hands. “So wonderfully wet. I love it.”

Soon you were a shaking mess. You clung onto him, as he made you cum and the quickly he did so again.

Once completely wilted in his arms his eyes met your eyes. “My anger, my past got the better of me and I can’t excuse it. But know, I only ever want is you.”

“Yes, yes me too Roman. I love you so much.” You had swallowed so you could talk. You were tingling all over from his touches, his tongue. “Roman,” you practically purred since it was all you do. “I want, I want to make you feel good now too. “

“Then kiss me baby and fall asleep in my arms. I want you in my arms tonight.”

“I would love to.”

Your lips met and you kissed. You could not remember when exactly. But you did eventually your eye lids, your body fell heavy and soon you did in fact fall asleep on his arms.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene @captainjacklynmarie

#femi!reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor angst #ewan mcgregor fluff #ewan mcgregor pov #roman sionis #roman sionis pov #roman sionis fluff #roman sionis angst #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis fanfiction #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #black mask #black mask imagine #black mask fanfiction #black mask fluff #black mask angst #black mask x y/n #black mask x you #black mask pov #black mask x reader #punishments #part 3

[janekfan]

Cage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130172

Jon jerked awake, uncomfortably soaked with sweat and trembling fit to shake apart, each thought swirling into wisps of cloud between his fingers even as he tried in vain to catch them.

He couldn’t breathe.

Not with his chest so unbelievably tight, caught in a vise; there was no room. No room. There was no room.

He ached badly. The caress of the bed linens against his skin was like a brush fire and his head pounded in tandem with his pulse as it hammered loudly through his blood and Jon couldn’t hear anything but a high pitched ringing between his ears. Disoriented, the plaintive sob grated on his sore throat, swallowed up by the deep dark so black he couldn’t see, and sudden tears slipped down his face, over the bridge of his nose where he curled up against the pillow, so hot. So hot. Nerves set ablaze, the roadmap of his veins spreading the pain like an injection of battery acid.

A nightmare. That’s what this was. It had to be.

Please. Just a nightmare or else he was surely dying.

Please. It hurts.

It hurts.

And then there was nothing.

Somehow, Jon slept through his alarm for the first time in his working memory, waking groggy and aching, shaky legs barely able to hold his weight as he made his way slowly to the kitchen. He was late for work. He was never late for work.

Two firsts in one morning.

The texts were. Worried? Martin was worried. Wondering. Wondering where he was. If he was okay.

He was fine. Just. Tired. Headachy. A bit rundown, that’s all. He couldn’t recall with much clarity, but it felt like he hadn’t slept well.

When he looked down at his hands, he found himself gripping the sink for dear life. The only thing keeping him up. Ridiculous. Of course not. He was fine. Jon drank down a full glass of water and forced a piece of dry toast on himself before dragging what felt like someone else’s body to the train.

It was nearing noon when Jon was able to drop into his desk chair, covering his eyes when the lamp was enough to make them hurt and the footsteps hurrying their way towards him inspired a sinking dread in his stomach.

“Jon!”

“Keep it down, Martin.” Abandoning all pretense, Jon flicked the light back off, unwilling to worsen what was already an awful ache, an awful, unrelenting pressure in the back of his skull.

“Oh, s’sorry, of course.” A flash of guilt passed too quickly, as did the moment in time he would have taken to apologize for snapping if his thoughts weren’t processing so slowly. “I was worried. You look. Jon,” and there was no mistaking the worry there. “You don’t look well.” Just as Tim decided to pass by for a friendly jab.

“Long night at the bar, boss?” What was once an endearment now sounded like a curse and Jon repressed the physical wince though it was nothing he didn't deserve.

“Leave off, Tim.” Exasperated, Martin pushed him on his way and opened the door to his office a little wider, speaking softly for his benefit. Kind. Always so kind and Jon didn’t deserve an ounce of it, not after the wrongs he’d done. “You look like you could use a day at home.” The fragment of concerned warmth coming off of Martin was inebriating, like he’d been socked in the jaw with a sudden and excessive want.

Or, like he was seconds away from begging for any and all scraps of affection, of human connection. A touch, another kind word, heaven forbid a genuine smile. He was just so. So.

Lonely.

“Just a bit of a headache.” He swallowed with difficulty, a little nauseated, trying to put forth even a quarter of the effort Martin deserved. “Th’thank you, Martin.” He gave him a wan smile, an olive branch, maybe he could begin repairing what he’d so thoroughly broken, and was almost hysterically pleased when he received a grin in return.

“Alright. I’ll bring you some tea--”

“You don’t have--!” Jon scrambled for words, afraid he’d been found out and Martin felt some sort of obligation, or, or.

“And paracetamol.” He looked back before leaving. “Because I want to.”

The hot drink and medicine revitalized him just a bit, enough to complete a couple hours work before he began to flag. Seconds dawdled. Minutes crawled. The next hour overstayed an incredibly rude and malingering welcome and Jon’s cheek met the blotter long before he would be able to skive off in good conscience. He felt strange. Cold and clammy but uncomfortably warm. His head was pounding in earnest now, an aura taking up residence in the corner of each eye, tunneling his vision and dizzying him despite his not moving. Thankfully, he’d been left alone for the most part.

Luckily.

Because something was wrong.

Wrong.

He felt wrong.

Frustrated, because there was a better word for how unbalanced, off center? he was and he couldn’t think of it.

Time was an unexpectedly slippery thing and as each moment wheeled by Jon became more and more confused, more exhausted, to the point where gulping for air seemed useless because none of it seemed to reach where he desperately needed it to go. When he lifted his head, his vision went spotty, blacking out for a terrifying split second before he laid it back down, tears welling in his eyes.

Why was he like this? So irrational, emotional.

Overwrought. When he finally.

Finally realized what this was.

Finally realized what he'd allowed to happen.

He was sick.

He’d come to work sick, contagious. He wasn’t supposed to be around people when he was sick; it was irresponsible and selfish to put others at risk. How could. After everything he’d already done to them, and now. And now he’s done this.

He would keep them away. He could do that. He was really good at that. Even when he wasn’t capable of anything else.

Breathing harshly through his nose, he forced himself to his feet, catching himself on his desk, a filing cabinet, the wall, in order to make it to the door and depress the lock. He would keep Martin well. And Tim. And stay here until it was safe to go, to go home but the idea of sitting back in the chair was too much. He needed. Needed to lay down. Soon. Now. Just as his knees gave way at the back of his office, behind the desk, and Jon let himself sink to the floor, the inside of him trying its best to claw its way out, and curling into his guilt when the pain and heat and cold crested over him like a smothering wave and he whimpered, pressing his hot cheek against the cool linoleum and shivering.

He wanted to go home.

Crawl into bed and hide from everything.

Isolate himself like he was supposed to so he wouldn’t make anyone else sick. But he couldn’t keep lashes seemingly painted with lead apart. Could hardly remember why he should keep alone in the first place, what he was supposed to be doing. Let himself fade. Until all the misery fell away into the background and he let the rest go.

“Jon?” He jerked awake, biting down on the groan all the aches and pains returning with a sudden vengeance pulled from between his teeth. It took too long to remember where he was, only able to focus on the sticky sweat all over his skin, tacky where his face rested on the floor, his damp clothes and the chill buried in the center of him. “Jon?”

Martin.

“Y’yes?” He flopped to his back, the room split into a double image, and he closed his eyes against it, breath shallow. Panicking a little when he heard him check the handle.

“Are you alright?”

“Mm. Yes.” Forced himself to inject annoyance into his tone. Irritability. He was irritable and wanted Martin to leave him alone. Definitely didn't want any more tea or to see his face creased in something like concern or, or god forbid, he (please) touch him. Because if he came in here he would fall ill. “I’m doing.” Speaking was so hard, tongue clumsy in his mouth. “Important work.”

“With the door locked?”

“In an effort to limit disruption, Martin.” Breathe. Breathe. “If you would, please.”

“Yes, Jon.” Martin was upset with him. That was good. Good because he would stay on the other side of the door. He couldn’t get sick on the other side of the door and Jon let himself go at the sound of retreating footsteps. He’d gotten good at crying silently and did so now. His grandmother didn’t like being disturbed and he could hear her scolding voice explaining that young men weren’t supposed to cry. He doubted men his age were supposed to either. But he was scared. So scared. There were wicked things hiding in the corners, in the shadows, at the outermost edges of his unsteady vision. Flickering in the dark and he curled into himself, covering his head with his arms and pressing against the boxes containing the multitude statements that brought all these fears into being. But he would be safe here. With his eyes closed and hidden among his cardboard walls. Safe. If he was quiet. If he was quiet he would be safe and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his silence.

He wanted Martin to come back. To beg him not to leave him all alone. To, to bring him tea. Would feel nice. Martin. Kind. Soft voice that didn’t hurt. Soft hands. Soft touch. Soft.

Jon burned.

Those shapes shifted, transformed into dangerous things. Mean things. Clinging in the corners of the room and coaxing fire from the very walls, unfurling wings of bone and ash and death.

It licked at his body, his skin, his clothes, and hurt, hurt, hurt.

He couldn't breathe.

Couldn't move.

Could only be consumed.

Eaten away to nothing by the creatures in the corners.

“Jon?” Martin was worried. He hadn’t seen Jon since he came in late (already cause for alarm), and his office was locked. “I’m sorry. I know you’re working, but can we talk?” He knocked again, listening hard, and was again met with only eerie quiet. No statements being read or tape recorders running. “Jon?” It was probably nothing. He’d stepped out. He’d gone home. He was ignoring him because Martin was a constant aggravation. But it didn’t seem right. Tim had a skeleton key from a while back. When things were simpler, and he found Tim in the breakroom, poking away at a game on his phone. “I need the key.”

“To what?”

“Jon’s office.”

“Ohh.” He raised an eyebrow, smirking in that knowing way of his and Martin felt himself go bright red.

“He’s not answering the door.”

“So?” He went back to his screen. “Why even bother, Martin? He’s probably just hiding from us because he thinks we’re after him or some other nonsense.”

“Please, Tim?” At least he turned back, knitting his brows at Martin’s persistence. “I think. I think something is really wrong.” With a put upon sigh, he pocketed his phone and gestured for Martin to lead the way.

It was calm and still and for a moment Martin thought Tim was right, that he’d gone home and just hadn’t been noticed.

“Jon?” It felt like he had to whisper, keep the dark undisturbed and was about ready to let it go when he heard something shift in the back of the room. He looked at Tim who just shrugged, leaving to go stand in the hall with his arms crossed. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, he caught sight of Jon’s jumper on the floor, it moved, there was a hiss of pain. “Jon?”

Dusty light from the hall filtered and fell across the figure curled up on the floor, skin ashen and pale despite his dark complexion, face dotted with sweat and dark swathes of charcoal drawn thick beneath half lidded eyes. Each breath was labored, too quick, too shallow, too uneven and Jon moaned, a pitiful, pained thing, struggling to put more room between them though he was already boxed into a corner.

“Jon,” Martin reached out, pulled back when he reacted in fear, glancing around at things only he could see.

“Nnnoo.” Voice thin and thready, barely audible as he panted, letting his temple fall back to the floor. “Mmartin. No…”

Jon, you’re not well.” He glanced back at Tim who at least looked somewhat worried now. “You need help.”

“No…” Fading in and out, chills made his thin frame shake, glassy eyes round and searching in the dark but not truly seeing him. “No. You.” He groaned, shaking his head back and forth. “Can’t. Can’t be here…”

“If this is some spooky shit, you should have told someone sooner.” Tim was angry and Jon winced when he spoke harshly, squeezing his eyes shut and ducking his chin.

“S’sick.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

"Tim, I think, I think he's just confused. He looks feverish."

“C’can’t.” Desperately, Jon was trying to make them understand something but he didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to elaborate, barely even conscious as it was and still distracted by whatever it was he saw in the dark. "M's'sorry. Sorry."

“I don’t understand.” Martin drew closer, pushing forward despite Jon’s frantic warnings. “It. It’s alright, I need to see.” To his horror, his breath hitched and tears rolled down his face. “Hush, it’s alright.”

“No, no. No.” He flinched, closed his eyes against Martin’s form inching closer to his tightly coiled body. “Can’t.” Wretched, small. Pleading and begging them to leave him here as if that were ever an option in any reality, let alone the one Jon was currently trapped in.

“S’alright, love.” He ignored Tim’s snort of derisive laughter.

“Not. It’s not.” Martin hushed him gently, pushing away the strands of sweat damp hair out of his face and keeping his expression and tone forcibly even despite the railroad spike of anxiety slamming straight into his stomach. Jon was burning up under his hand, hot as anything, and he stroked his head when he began to cry in earnest, speaking low.

“It’s alright, I promise, everything is alright. Let me help.” He glanced back at Tim and even through the intentional indifference could see worry in the way he bit his lip. “Can you get the paracetamol from my desk? Some water? Please.” Limp and exhausted, Jon struggled to focus, to move away, eyes fever glazed and vacant beneath damp lashes fluttering like a moth’s wing. “Shh, you’re alright.” Martin knuckled away the tears still tracing paths across Jon’s skin, shifting his shoulders despite delirious protests and rambling into his lap and folding his trembling, frozen hands into his own. “You’re alright.” He wished for a thermometer, Jon was like a brand even through both sets of clothing, but he was responsive if upset, and he’d give him another dose and see where they were in an hour or so.

“I’ll stick around for a while. Be in the office.”

“Thank you, Tim.” Martin knew a bit about what it took for him to make that decision and appreciated it, offering up a grateful smile before crushing up the pills in the bottom of Jon’s mug from earlier and filling it halfway with water. “Sit up for me, Jon. Just, there you are. Drink this down, good, good.” Praising and soft, getting as much water into him as he would take between his fits of pleading.

“Martin.” He sounded miserably undone, coughing weakly against the back of his hand.

“Still me.” Dark brown eyes, pupils blown wide in the low light, stared up at him though Martin couldn’t quite catch them. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Martin.” He stroked light fingertips over his eyelids in response, continuing his murmuring and reassurances, at a loss in this situation where he found himself on the floor of his boss’ office with said boss half in his lap and now dead asleep. Martin let himself lean back against the shelves, listening to the slight wheeze on his breath and shoving the worry away. The medicine would work and then Martin would get him home and into bed.

“What…” Martin put down the supplementals he’d been leafing through to palm Jon’s forehead. Still high. But Jon seemed at least a bit more with it, voice stronger if still tired. “Martin?”

“How’re you feeling?”

“T’terrible?” He hadn’t seemed to realize where he was, still drifting in and out. “Gotta...go.” He sat up on his own, wavering, though Martin hovered, ready to catch him if he began to go down. “Can’t be here.” And he stood so quickly, Martin almost didn’t grab him in time when he started to collapse, blood draining from his already pallid face.

“Whoa! Okay, easy, easy, easy. Sit down.”

“S’sorry.” Bare more than an exhale, Martin was sure it was reflexive. Jon couldn’t possibly know what was going on. Not really, in the state he was in.

“I’m taking you home with me.”

“What?” Jon blinked, not really tracking or Martin was sure he’d argue harder.

“I’d hazard a guess you have few, if any supplies.” Getting him to the beat up car Martin still drove was fairly simple with Tim’s reluctant help, but even he couldn't hide his concern at the heat coming off him, going so far as to reach across and buckle him in when it became abundantly clear he didn’t have the coordination.

“Text me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tim.”

39.7.

Martin insisted he get a read on him first thing after he helped him stagger into the flat. Jon refused to think about how strong he was, how he probably could have carried him the whole way and blamed the fever for his inappropriate thoughts. It was bad enough Martin felt he had to supervise him.

If Jon wasn’t so very poorly, he was sure he’d be feeling much more embarrassed but as it stood, he was strung out and aching, so cold he couldn't stop shaking. Probably due for more medicine and speak of the devil, Martin handed him a cup of tea and some lemsip, setting a bottle of some sports drink he didn’t recognize on the table beside him and sitting across from him. Jon felt ridiculous dressed in Martin’s spare and well worn clothes, bundled up in a soft, plush blanket that made him feel better somehow though there was no reason for it to do so. Dutifully, he took his medicine and then hid behind the mug because he just knew Martin was going to ask and Jon had a feeling that he’d done something wrong.

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell us?” Martin probably thought it was because he felt better than them, better than the help they could provide. Or that he didn't trust them. He knew Tim felt that way. But really. Really. He didn’t deserve it. He’d treated them with suspicion instead of colleagues and friends and on top of that he was infectious, dirty, and needed to be isolated until he wouldn’t make people sick. They deserved at least that much from him and he couldn’t even accomplish that. So he tried again to explain.

“I’m. Sick.” Completely at a loss, and suddenly, Jon felt ashamed. It was becoming clear that his behavior had been abnormal and that at his most feverish he’d gone to harmful extremes. Martin probably thought he was a fool but he just waited patiently, adding quietly,

“I’m not angry or upset with you.”

Because he was such a good person.

“My grandmother.” Would be. Would be furious. Jon paused to turn his head away from Martin and cough harshly into his elbow. He was fumbling with words, worried that he would think. Well he wasn’t sure what he would think. “Wasn’t. I had to stay--couldn’t get anyone else sick.”

“Oh, Jon.”

“No! No, I. I thought. Thought that was what everyone did.” Martin sipped his own tea and Jon copied him. “I.” He withdrew into his borrowed blanket, weary and sick. “I’m sorry. I. Should have known better.” Martin looked upset. It wasn’t the right thing to say but he didn’t know what the right thing was and it hurt to think but thankfully he took pity on Jon’s poor aching self.

“You should get some sleep.” Jon felt small being tucked in but with being so tired it was a comfort when Martin let his hand linger on his forehead, lifted his glasses away to fold them aside and he relaxed.

“Thank you, Martin.”

Tim would laugh if he knew what Martin was thinking about. An even tinier Jon curled up in a dark room, sick and alone, and expected to stay away from everyone while he was ill. How lonely, how sad, to be isolated from any comfort when you were at your most vulnerable. No wonder Jon was so confused at the Institute today and Martin’s imagination had no trouble running wild with different worst case scenarios, so much so that he put aside the poetry he’d been attempting to work on in favor of turning in early.

Something snapped Martin awake and when he looked at his bedside clock the red numbers glared 329 and he almost turned back over to go back to sleep when he remembered who was sleeping on his couch and stepped out to check on him.

A whimper. In the pitch black of the room. He should have left a light on for him.

“H’hello?” He sounded frightened, shaky and his inquiry cracked around what sounded like tears.

“Jon?”

“Martin?” He sniffed suspiciously, voice thick and choked. “Wh’where are we?”

“You don’t remember?” He flicked the hall switch, letting enough light into the sitting room to see by and he met Jon’s wide, damp eyes, filled to the brim with fear, and he shook his head, bottom lip visibly trembling. “You’re at my flat, on the couch.”

“Wh’what?” Martin sat beside him where he was folded up onto one cushion, fever flush high in his face and a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his exposed skin. He should have known. Fevers were often worse at night.

“You’ve not been feeling well.”

“Feel.” His throat clicked with a heavy swallow, and when he closed his eyes, tears slipped down his hollow cheeks. “Feel. S’s’strange.” Martin helped him hold the bottle of sports drink, encouraging him to take at least a third and some more medicine, and when he couldn’t cajole anything else out of him, he let Jon’s forehead tipped against his chest, the heat billowing off him intense. Martin cupped the back of his head, let him cling, breath shuddering. “Thought. I thought I saw.” He broke off with a whine, burying his face in Martin and he stroked his back, counting his ribs without meaning too.

“That should help.” Jon breathed unevenly, coming down from his nightmare or panic, the whole of him shaking with chills. “You’ll feel better when your fever isn’t so high.”

“S’sorry.”

“So you keep saying.”

“You’ve d’done so much.” He nuzzled Martin’s tee, curling into him, and it was so Not Jon he thought he might combust because it was adorable, even if he was sick. “And I’ve. I’m.” Now wasn’t the time for such serious conversations. Not when Jon could barely string two words together and was still seeing things that frightened him in the shadows.

“It’s alright.” It wasn’t a hard decision to make. “Up you come, now.” And this time Martin did swing him up into his arms, tucking him close, the gasp of surprise just a puff of warm air against his throat. No wonder this illness was hitting him so hard, he weighed far too little and Martin knew he wasn’t sleeping well. Eating well. He clung to him, dizzied and reeling.

“Head hurts…ev’rythin’ hurts…”

“I know.” He tucked Jon into bed, brushing a stray strand of hair behind his ear before climbing in beside him.

“You’ll...get sick.”

“I’ll be fine.” When he tugged him close there was no resistance, all pretense and worry stripped away with exhaustion and fatigue, and Jon melted willingly into the comfort he offered, too feverish, too tired, too frightened.

“Mm.”

“Sleep, Jon. Tomorrow, everything will be better.”

It wouldn’t. But the lie was enough for now.

#TMAHCWeek #TMAHC #jonmartin #mutual pining #sickfic #fever #past child neglect #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #exhaustion #the magnus archives #tma