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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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Dude I’m pleading with you for a black paladin lance fic

sorry this took me a hundred years 💀💀

Chocolate Chip Chivalry

Keith & Lance (Voltron), Black Paladin Lance, 1.5k Words

Summary: Keith is struggling with Shiro’s disappearance and his own inability to be what he thought Shiro wanted. Lance, it turns out, is a big help.

———

“Alright, buddy, up you get.”

Keith doesn’t move except to roll his sore eyes. If Lance thinks he’s gonna get Keith up for anything other than a mission, he’s got another thing coming.

“I will lift you out of that bed, Kogane, do not test me.”

This gives Keith pause. Because while Lance is kind of scrawny, he has this weird ability to do things that seem out of the physical realm of possibility for him when he’s feeling stubborn. A month ago, for example, he suddenly sprouted the ability to hear a whispered conversation several miles away, because he wanted to go home and finish a project of his. Truly remarkable.

So, yeah. Keith might be bigger than Lance, but he also knows from experience that if Lance says he will bodily lift Keith out of bed, then he damn well means it, and Keith would like to hold on to what’s left of his dignity, thanks.

“What the fuck do you want,” Keith growls, sitting up and glaring at the Cuban.

Lance raises an eyebrow back, completely unfazed. “I want you to get out of bed. You’ve been locked in here for three days, and it’s making you feel worse, not better.”

“I think I’m entitled to some fucking self-pity, Lance.”

“I never said you weren’t. I’m just saying that the rest of us have been crying with company, and it feels marginally less shitty than sobbing in your room alone.”

Keith really looks at Lance for the first time since he barged in, noticing the red-rimmed eyes and dried tear tracks. He starts to feel guilty. He’s been spending who knows how long holed up in his room, throwing himself a pity party, as if he’s the only one who lost Shiro. God, no wonder the Black Lion chose Lance instead of him, he’d be a shit leader, he can only think of himself he’s such a fucking douche, he’s a fucking waste of space —

“Cut that out,” Lance orders, narrowing his eyes at Keith. “No one’s mad at you. No one’s disappointed. We completely understand why you’re camped in here, and we get it. I get it. I just also know that it’s unhealthy, and I want you to do something to take your mind off of it.”

Keith is quiet for a moment, looking down at his fists, clenched in his sheets. He doesn’t really want to get out of bed. All he really wants to do is sleep or cry some more, and every time he thinks of his brother his eyes tear up on their own.

But some training probably wouldn’t hurt. The endorphins will probably be good for him, honestly.

“I guess I could train,” Keith mutters sullenly.

“Um, no. You will not be doing that. That’s going to make it worse, because you’re gonna —”

“So what the fuck am I meant to do, then, huh, Lance?” Keith demands. “Just fucking sit around and get more weak and useless? Maybe I can fucking summon Shiro with my mind, and then I’ll have a purpose again! Shiro asked me to do one fucking thing, just one, and I couldn’t even —” Keith breaks down into tears, again, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

Fuck.

He feels the mattress dip to his left, seeing Lance kneeling next to him out of the corner of his eyes. The next thing he feels is Lance’s arm over his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. Keith cries into Lance’s neck, soaking his shirt and skin, for what feels like hours. Lance doesn’t complain or move, only running a gentle hand down his back and making occasional humming noises.

Eventually Keith cries himself out, tears dried, leaving only those horrible stuttering breaths that are the aftermath of a period of misery. Lance pulls away a little, moving his hands so his palms are pressing on either side of Keith’s face. His hands are blessedly cool on Keith’s overheated skin.

“Shiro is not disappointed in you,” he says firmly. “Wherever he is, and whatever he’s doing, he’s proud of you. He always is.”

“But I’m a fucking failure,” Keith argues, feeling his eyes burn again. “He asked me to pilot Black, and she wouldn’t open for me. She opened for you, which makes sense, but I still feel like a let-down.”

Something unreadable flashes through Lance’s dark eyes, and then a look of determination settles in his features. He grips Keith’s hands and pulls him off the bed, making Keith stumble a little. It’s been a hot minute since he’s really moved a lot.

“Okay, change of plans,” Lance announces. “To the kitchens.”

Lance marches them down the hall, turning into the big double doors that lead to the dining area. He drags Keith all the way to the massive, industrial Altean kitchen, depositing him by the counter beside the stove, and walks to the fridge.

“Okay, we need butter, and eggs…” he trails off as he rummages through the fridge’s contents, occasionally moving to set down a few ingredients or equipment beside Keith. Keith watches him in confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Start sifting two cups of flour into the pink bowl,” Lance says instead of answering.

Keith thinks about refusing, but he honestly doesn’t have the energy. He settles for rolling his eyes and muttering petulantly as he complies.

Lance continues to call out instructions as he buzzes around the kitchen, messing with the oven settings and God knows what else. Keith continues to follow the instructions, getting into a sort of rhythm of whipping or sifting or mixing or measuring.

Eventually, Keith fully clues into what he’s been doing for the past half hour and realises he’s successfully made a batch of space chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Okay, now scoop a bunch of that onto this cookie sheet. About twelve balls, evenly spaced, a little more than a tablespoon of dough on each spot.”

Keith hesitates a moment, because he realises he hasn’t really registered jack shit since Lance made him start on this. Not Lance’s idle chatter, not the fact that he literally made cookie dough, and, most importantly, not the overwhelming sadness and desperation he’s been feeling nonstop for the past three days.

But he continues on, scooping the dough onto the baking sheet, and then he sits up on the counter and watches as Lance slides them into the hot oven and sets a ten minute timer.

“Why did we… why did you make me do that?” Keith asks after a period of silence. He’s surprised at his own tone — only honest curiosity, not an ounce of hostility or anger. Huh.

“You needed to do something creative and tedious,” Lance responds simply. “Not to psychoanalyse you or anything, but you were very clearly going through a depressive episode, and that kind of thing helps.”

“Oh.”

They sit in quiet, contemplative silence until the timer goes off. Lance hops off the counter and puts on an oven mitt, grinning a little as he takes the cookies out. Keith gets it. They look perfect, and certainly smell amazing.

Lance expertly lifts each cookie from the parchment paper onto a cooling rack with a spatula, except for three of them, which he puts on a plate and slides towards Keith.

“There’s milk in the fridge,” he informs him. Keith nods, heading over to pour two glasses. He carries them back over to the counter, where Lance is waiting.

They both grab a cookie, biting them at the same time. Keith feels his eyebrows raise. These cookies are delicious, and usually Keith kind of sucks in the kitchen.

“There are really good,” Keith says.

“You did a good job,” Lance agrees.

Keith makes a face, looking at Lance strangely. “I didn’t make them.”

Lance raises his eyebrows, looking amused, but Keith recognizes the knowing glint in his eyes. There’s something else at play here.

“I didn’t do shit. You put all the ingredients together. You measured them, mixed them, scooped them. All you, buddy. I talked the whole time.”

“No, you — wait,” Keith pauses for a minute, cookie halfway to his mouth (they really are amazing), thinking back to the past forty-odd minutes.

“Huh,” he says after a moment. He really did make these cookies.

“You made these cookies,” Lance reiterates.

Keith looks at him suspiciously. “Why are you putting so much emphasis on that?”

Lance shrugs, but his knowing grin from earlier has only gotten bigger.

“You said you were useless, earlier. That you didn’t make a difference. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think a useless person couldn’t make these bomb-ass cookies, and they certainly made a difference in my day, so.”

Lance lets that sit between them, as Keith processes.

Well, damn.

“…Point taken,” Keith says eventually.

Lance smiles at him, big and bright, and nudges his shoulder.

“I know losing Shiro has sucked,” he says softly. “I can’t even conceptualize your pain — I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of my siblings not once, but twice. I’m sorry, Keith. I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry that Shiro’s expectations weren’t right for you. But I promise you that we will find Shiro, whatever it takes, and I will do everything in my power to be the best leader I can be in the meantime.”

Keith smiles back, a little watery, a little emotional, but happier nonetheless. He reaches over to grab Lance’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“You’re already are, Lance. You already are.”

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flatstarcarcosa · 2 years

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bernard trigger

ship: your sins come for you again, with soft the butcher and the blade as this piece takes place during the curve from the second to the first. TWs: soft mention of suicide in relation to pain levels, actual medical drug use for once. summary: butcher’s latest plan of attack goes south. the group gets separated. blinded and useless, reese is forced to let ben take the lead. part one, because this got longer than i thought it would.

i’m still going to throw rocks at this man, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s their own fault.

Not paying attention, getting too cocky. Taking time to send Butcher a verbal barb rather than watching their flank.

The person on the other side has done their homework. That, or they’re taking a good guess and getting lucky.

The flashbang pops, and immediately the world goes white. And white.

And white.

Then Reese is shot in the head.

Shotgun rounds wont kill them, but it serves to knock them ass over end and leave them disoriented as well as blind. Their ears are ringing and the world is nothing but searing light. The garbled sound of steel hitting flesh pokes through the ringing, and they feel someone grab their bicep and drag them to their feet.

Their boot catches on a body. Before they hit the ground, their (alleged) savior takes them by the waist and hefts them over his shoulder.

“Oh, injure my fucking pride along with everything else,” they snap. Their voice is muffled still by the ringing in their ears.

Somewhere to the far left, they hear Butcher’s voice. They can’t make out the words, but if he’s not the one holding them...

They feel around with their hands, fingers brushing against the hilt of a knife, and groan. “Oh fuck me, is that you?”

“You know, learning some gratitude wouldn’t kill you,” says Ben. “One flashbang and you’re completely useless, I should leave you here for the sake of the rest of us. Survival of the fittest.”

“How bout you fit my foot in your ass?” Reese snaps.

Abruptly, he sets them down; one hand guiding their shoulders back to lean them against a tree. They blink a few times, narrowing their eyes, and are able to make out a rough, green-tinted silhouette against the blinding white of the world.

His hand brushes against their cheek, along their jaw, fingers moving to comb through their hair. They reach up and attempt to swat it away.

“The fuck is your problem, man?” they ask.

“I was making sure you’re not bleeding out,” he says gruffly, “you’re welcome.”

“Don’t care, didn’t fucking ask,” they say, adding, “I’m invulnerable on that front. Gonna be fucking useless with the migraine, though.”

“I’m not one for running away, but I think Butcher’s tactical assessment of ‘absolutely fucked to the gills’ is correct, and a retreat to regroup is the best plan,” says Ben. He shifts, leaves crunching under his boots, and loops his arm around theirs, pulling them to their feet.

“Someone fucked us,” says Reese.

“No shit,” agrees Ben.

Reese isn’t happy about having to be led around, and less happy about him being the one to lead them, but at least he hasn’t resumed carrying them. By the time the pair loop back to where Reese’s bike is parked, their vision has softened. Less white, more hazy shapes to denote their surroundings.

“Can you see?” asks Ben.

The green of his uniform is just barely able to register, the details of it are still lost.

“Oh, god damn it,” they say, realizing that while they’re not totally blind, they’re in no condition to drive.

Ben laughs, and they feel him reach down to unclip their keychain from their belt.

“Guess you’re not the only one driving this bike after all,” he says. The engine roars to life a moment later. When they haven’t moved, he sighs with annoyance and leans over to grab a fistful of their shirt and pull them towards the bike. “Complain later.”

“I think I will, thanks,” says Reese. They lean across the bike, making no motion to sit down, and begin fumbling with one of the saddle bags. The sun bearing down on them in the aftermath of the flashbang is doing more harm than good, so they finally relent and shut their eyes.

Ben quirks an eyebrow, turning on the bike to watch them attempt to unclasp the lock on the saddlebag with their eyes closed. He drums his fingers against the throttle, counting down the seconds that they fail to get the bag open.

"What do you need?" he finally asks, mildly annoyed. “I’d rather not sit here and wait for someone to come fuck us some more.”

"There's a glass case in there," they answer.

He unclasps the lock and flips the saddlebag open. The glasses case is nestled inside, along with a magnum and a half-empty pack of black & mild cigars. He pulls the case out and flips it open.

"These look different," he says, commenting almost absent-mindedly as he pulls the arms open and slips them over Reese’s ears.

They feel the glasses settle on their nose, the familiar weight a small comfort against the throbbing in their brain.

Their usual shades are aviators, mirror reflected and fitting the definition of fashionable as well as functional. This pair are clunky, square, and the lenses themselves look more like a tinted window than anything else.

"They're custom made," says Reese. They reach up and press a finger to the small indent next to the lenses, blinking slowly. "They block out all UV light and peripheral vision, and there’s a camera that gives me a live feed."

They look up at him. The images from the camera feed are blurry, but less so than their naked vision would be.

It’s still not good enough to drive.

"Something about cutting out visual noise and excess stimuli," they say. “It gives my eyes only the information they need and nothing else.

Ben says nothing, and unfortunately for Reese, their vision is still too poor to make out the confusion and disbelief that flashes across his face at the concept. He’s not unfamiliar with cameras, of course, but how they could fit into a pair of glasses and be useful enough for what they’re describing seems improbable.

“Okay,” he drawls, dubiously.

Reese settles behind him on the bike, and bites back the urge to shit talk him when he fish-tails the end of it as he pulls out onto the road.

They spend the ride back to the motel with their forehead pressed against his back, eyes closed, and every nerve ending in their face on fire. There’s pressure building behind their eyeballs, throbbing more with every pump of their heart. Eventually, the casual hold they have on him to remain steady on the bike turns into them reflexively clenching their fists in pain.

If he notices the grip on his waist, he says nothing about it.

After all, why would he?

He, too, is well acquainted with the fact that invulnerable doesn’t mean painless.

Ben makes a loop around the block the hotel is located on before pulling in to park. There’s no sign of the rest of the boys, but also no signs of anyone that shouldn’t be there. He pulls in and kills the engine, kicking the stand down and letting the bike lean.

He pauses when he realizes Reese is suspiciously silent.

“If you died on me, I’m gonna be very unhappy,” he says, looking over his shoulder. They don't move, so he nudges them, snapping, "hey."

The nudging wakes them and they sit straight on the bike. Behind the glasses, they open their eyes.

It is a mistake.

The sun is still bearing down on the world, and the brightness from the camera feed alone is enough to sting.

“God damn it,” they mumble. They dismount the bike making slow, deliberate motions as they do. Nausea swirls in their gut, bile slinking up the back of their throat and coating their teeth with an aftertaste that’s already making itself comfortable.

The two of them cross the parking lot, and Reese stumbles on the steps leading up to the hotel room door. Ben’s arm shoots out and catches them before they fall, and they grunt in annoyance.

"These things don't do shit for depth perception," they say.

He keeps a hand locked around their wrist until they've successfully navigated the stairs.

Reese reaches into their back pocket and produces the room key, passing it wordlessly to him. He quirks an eyebrow as he takes it and inserts the card into the lock, wondering why they can’t unlock the door themself.

"Oh, right," he says, more to himself, "depth perception."

The door lock makes a discordant buzzing noise, and Ben frowns when the handle doesn't move.

"Other way," says Reese.

He frowns, yanking the card out and flipping it over. This time, the door beeps pleasantly and unlocks.

Cold, stale air wafts them from inside, and once the two of them are past the threshold Reese hears Ben engage the electronic door locks as well as the deadbolt.

Not that any of that is going to be worth anything if they end up with an army of supes outside the door.

“I need fucking drugs,” says Reese. They pause to kick their shoes off, and then flop face down onto the bed. The glasses press awkwardly, and painfully, into their cheek. They roll to their back, blinking up at the filtered view of the ceiling.

Ben’s shield makes a sharp, metallic clang as he sets it down.

Their phone vibrates in their jacket pocket, and Reese sits up to pull it out. They squint at it for a few moments, as if narrowing their eyes will clear their vision enough to be able to see more than brightly colored fuzz on the screen.

“Motherfucker,” they hiss, adding, “hey, come here.”

Ben looks over, pausing in stripping out of his gloves. “What now?”

“I need you to tell me what my phone says,” says Reese, passing it to him. “It’s probably Butcher.”

Ben looks down at the screen just in time for it to go back to sleep. He frowns. “It’s blank,” he says.

“Seriously?” Reese asks. “It’s been like, what, two weeks and you still haven’t learned how to use a phone?”

“I don’t fucking need one,” he snaps.

“Factually incorrect,” they say. They move from the bed to pull the curtains in the window shut, drowning them both in blessed darkness, and remove their glasses. They set them down on the night stand with an audible thunk.

“Press the button on the side of the phone,” they say.

“Okay, it’s on,” says Ben. “It says ‘slide to unlock’, what am I supposed to slide?”

“Run your finger across the screen.”

“Oh,” he says.

“41660579,” says Reese.

“What?”

“The passcode.”

They can hear the subtle vibrations from the phone as he unlocks it. “Why do you have a pinup of some guy in his underwear on this thing?” he asks. “Not that I’m necessarily judging.”

Reese lets out an exaggerated groan as they dig around in their duffel bag. “He’s a wrestler, will you just check my fucking messages?”

“That’s still a thing?” asks Ben, looking up. “Oh man, I used to fucking love Andre the Giant. I mean, wrestling was stupid but it was fun stupid. Those guys also had the best fucking coke, hands down.”

Reese pauses.

“God, I hate that I’m absolutely going to want you to elaborate on that later,” they say.

“How do I get to the- oh, nevermind,” says Ben. He taps the message alert that pops up on the phone. “Butcher says he and Hughie got followed, they’re gonna deal with that before they try coming back here.”

“Great,” says Reese sarcastically. They pull a silver lock box out of the bag and plop it down on the table.

The phone buzzes again.

“Tell him we’re at the hotel,” says Reese.

“How do you people type like this?” asks Ben, frustrated.

“I’m amazed you figured out the keyboard on your own,” says Reese.

“Well, it’s pretty fucking obvious by all the letters, isn’t it?” he snaps.

Ben leans against the dresser, looking up from the phone as Reese inputs a code on the lock box. It beeps twice.

“Please confirm voice print,” says a pleasant, electronic voice.

“The one-eyed man tells naught but lies,” says Reese.

“Voice print confirmed. Lock will reset in...five minutes,” says the box. It beeps once more, and opens with a hissing noise.

“Tell Butcher I got fragged and shot,” says Reese, before Ben has a chance to ask what it is they’re doing. “I gotta bust out the big guns for this migraine, so it’s gonna put me down for a bit.”

“What are the big guns?” asks Ben.

“Drugs don’t work on me like they do normal people,” says Reese. “I’m sure you know what I mean about that.” They pull a pill bottle out of the box.

While they speak, Ben figures out how to silence the phone. It cuts off the buzzing every time it receives a new message.

Reese doesn’t seem to notice.

“Frenchie and I worked up a nice little combination for times like this,” they say. “It’s gonna stop the migraine and give me time for my eyes to bounce back, but I’m gonna be on my ass for a while.”

“That bad?” he asks. For once, there’s no contempt or judgement in his tone, instead just genuine curiosity.

“If killing myself was the only option, I’d take it,” they say, matter-of-factly. It is not a despairing type of suicidal ideation, just a simple statement of their pain level.

The pill bottle pops open, and they dump two into their hand. Wordlessly, Ben reaches for a bottle of water sitting on the dresser and drops it on the table next to them. He looks down at the phone again as he sits on the end of the bed.

“You keep those things locked up that tight?” asks Ben, ignoring the phone for a moment. He leans down to remove his own boots.

Reese swallows the pills, replacing the bottle in the lock box and regarding it for a moment. “If I use them too much the efficacy goes down,” they say. “The box is a deterrent so I don’t get into them all the time. But that’s not the only thing in here.”

He wants to ask what else is, and chooses not too, instead turning his attention back to the phone.

“I got about twenty minutes before these things kick in,” says Reese. Unable to scrounge up a care to give about a pretense of modesty, they shrug out of their jacket and their pants on the way to the bathroom.

Ben quirks an eyebrow at the phone. He takes time to discard his own bits of armor and uniform before picking it back up.

He downs a hefty mouthful of whiskey while Reese is in the bathroom, and flops at the head of the bed with the TV remote in one hand and the phone in the other. The TV powers on, running on a news channel he immediately skips.

Ben snorts.

Reese exits the bathroom, and when they fall onto the other side of the bed Ben gets a whiff of toothpaste and eucalyptus. Whatever they did to freshen up enough to sleep apparently works, and they stretch out in a tank top and their underwear.

“Anything else from Butcher?” they ask, pulling the sheets into a more comfortable position.

“Nope,” says Ben. He drops the phone on the night stand and resumes channel hopping. “Guess we’re just waiting for him to fix his latest fuck up.”

“That’s just been my life for the last like eight years,” says Reese softly. “Y’get used to it.”

“Do you?” he asks.

Reese’s only answer is a low, non-committal grunt before sleep and drugs tag team them into oblivion.

#reese.fic #ship: your sins come for you again #ship: the butcher and the blade #self shipping #selfshipping fic #feels nice to actually finish this part of this #i can fuck around with the remainder now :)#i didn't wanna slap it all into one big ass piece but as you know i have chronic cannot shut the fuck up disease once i get going

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albatris · 3 years

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fuck it, jet's getting a sword

#this is what happens when i dont get enough sleep #giving jet graves a sword with the same gusto i gave noa a harmonica #and i dont mean just in the ''jet is the type of dude to own a sword for aesthetic reasons just because Hell Yeah Sword'' way #bc this had already been established #he's gay and swords are sick as hell next question #im talking. final showdown #he's never BEEN in a final showdown before hes never even been in a fight #it's just like #well! shit seems like it's about to go down! he wants to be useful! he has no idea what the best way to Not Die is #he knows damn well he's gonna be useless if he has to use his fists to defend himself #he probly just looked around and was like ''ok what are my options'' and decided ''sword'' was his best bet #he's never used it before #but it's not like he's gonna be in a swordFIGHT it's just pointy and the most #threatening thing he owns #i know he gets to charge with it while screaming at the top of his lungs #idk whether he gets to Stab #jet graves is just super super not down for murder he's fuckin terrified

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mamashima · 3 years

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𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃-𝐀-𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓

SYNOPSIS | Even Katsuki Bakugou can't handle his bratty younger sister — so he has Izuku do something about it instead.

CONTENT | asshole!izuku, bratty!y/n, f!reader, humiliation, dacryphilia, bondage, bitch-calling!once, all characters are aged up to be 18 or over. MINORS DNI.

WORD COUNT | 1k

The Bakugou's breed brats.

Now, you may be adopted, but Izuku's opinion still stands tall. It's a textbook example of nature vs nurture—and why nurture always wins.

"I wanna go in the jacuzzi now," you growl, fists balled against your older brother's chest as false tears well in the corners of your eyes. Katsuki tucks his hands into his pockets; releases a sigh soaked with pure frustration. Rolling his head to the right, he snatches your wrists with one hand and sets you slightly crooked on the couch.

"Well that fuckin' sucks," his lips curl, "that damn thing ain't goin' nowhere. We came to ski 'n that's what we're gonna fuckin' do."

You chuck your head back to release a guttural groan, dousing your neck in the warm cabin lighting. Denki's eyes drift, as they have been since you got in the car, and Hanta swallows when your back curls just right. Unfortunately, Izuku can't lie—the fitted turtleneck with the ski pants should be less of a sin than you make it seem. And yet, here he is, burning in hell because of Bakugou's bratty little sister.

"We just got here!" You screech at the top of your lungs, eyes screwed and body tight. The ash-blond's ears turn neon red from the amount of anger suppressed, shoulders tightening under his black t-shirt.

Katsuki's scarlet eyes drift to the forest green of Izuku's own. He knows what it means. Izuku shoves himself upright with a heaved sigh, the usual sparkle in his eyes dying as he yanks you to your feet and drags you towards an empty bedroom.

"You're hurting me," you whine, wiggling your hands to no avail. Izuku knows the belt tied around your wrists isn't enough to hurt, you're just being a big baby, but the knot is solid enough that he knows you aren't getting up until he lets you.

He's simply satisfied with the fact that he gets to put you in your place.

"Count," Izuku yawns carelessly, adjusting the watch on his wrist. You whimper and he feels your body tense—almost as if it's finally settling in that you can't blink your way out of this one. His palm drops, and your reaction is worth a king's ransom.

"I said, count."

"One," you bite back with slight venom. A shudder, and his hand cracks down again.

"T-Two!"

A small part of him—the old part—worries you're being too loud and that the walls aren't as thick as he wants them to be, but he realizes that doesn't matter too quickly. The louder the better. He wants the whole neighborhood to hear you.

"Ten—shit—"

And you wouldn't have put on that whole show if you didn't want the entire neighborhood to hear you, too.

Izuku decides he wants to see you, and using his scarred hand, he cradles your cheek to hold your face at an angle. Your skin is blotchy and for once the welling tears are genuine—genuine enough to tempt his palm into faltering for a split second. But that's until your swollen lips slide into the smallest sneer. Bitch.

That's probably the hardest swat he delivers that night.

You're at the point Izuku loves—the point where all you can do is scream and hold on for dear life, white-knuckling the headboard while your spine pushes your ass further into his hand. Izuku chuckles at that, watching your useless body writhe and ache for more, but he tuts. Your head snaps his way, eyes doughy and dilated.

You're shaking—bad enough that it pushes Izuku out of his current headspace and into another, softer one. Placing small butterfly kisses against your shoulders and back, he lets you lay as he soothes your sides. Lifting his lips to your ear, he talks low, "One more 'nd then you're done, m'kay Angel? Can you take one more for me?"

You inhale and exhale shakily before responding. Izuku trusts you enough to know you'll step in to tell him when enough is enough, but the way your back arches tells a different story.

"Y-Yeah," you gasp, "One...one more."

Izuku's lips slide into a grin.

"Good girl."

With a final peck to your shoulder, his bicep tenses and his hand drops. You bite into the pillow, muffling a scream and the whimpers that follow.

He lets you sit there, recuperate. Not for long, but enough that once you're done shaking, Izuku undoes the makeshift handcuffs and lifts you to your feet. Naturally, you stumble forwards—and straight into his chest.

"Oop—careful," he chuckles, and you give him a shy grin back, body too exhausted for anything else. Lifting an eyebrow, the greenette asks (prays), "So, we should have good behavior now on, no?"

Your shy grin turns devilish, full of teeth and gums, and suddenly you're back to normal. With a wink, "Hmmm...maybe."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he presses closer, reveling in the way your body feels against his. "You better. I won't stop so early next time."

You don't answer. All you do is hold that stupid smirk—the one that got you in trouble in the first place—but all the greenette can do is shake his head, and let you go with a few pats on the ass.

"Go clean your face, it's a mess," he snorts. You roll your eyes.

"You love it."

With that, you're off to the bathroom and Izuku's left to fix the problem in his pants. You have him shaking his head, cursing under his breath. There's no way in hell Izuku's letting you know how he feels. Ever.

"Idiot," is all he can manage with a sad little snort. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and meets the rest of the crew downstairs.

Time to go skiing, he supposes.

#daddy ‘zuku #bnha smut #izuku smut #deku smut

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goingmorry · 3 years

Note

Hellooo I love your writing soooo much >>•<<

Could you please write headcanons of ASL sister introducing Smoker as her fiancé ? Thank you so much !

[One Piece Headcanons] ASL Brothers -> when you introduce Smoker as your fiancé

Characters: Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Smoker

Tags: female reader, overprotective brothers

Author's Note: Thank you for the cute request! I got carried away and added short scenarios for each brother's reaction and a little extra at the end. I hope you like it! 💖

PORTGAS D. ACE

Goes from 😯 to 😡 to 🤬

Ace.exe has stopped working.

He's the 2nd Division Commander of the esteemed Whitebeard Pirates; who in their right mind would think it would be a good idea for him — the son of the late Pirate King — to meet a Marine Vice-Admiral?

Cue war flashbacks of when Garp showered him, Luffy, and Sabo with his "fists of love" for sharing their childhood dreams of becoming pirates.

Goes through all seven stages of grief and complains to Sabo every single time.

Threatens Smoker every chance he gets. The Marine Vice-Admiral repays in kind when you're not around.

Doesn't warm up to the idea of you and Smoker as a couple except on your wedding day.

"Behave yourself," you whisper to your fiancé, soft hands tightly gripping his muscular bicep in warning.

"I'm on my best behavior. It's your brother who needs to behave," Smoker says bluntly, brown eyes observing the freckled pirate's reaction to you and your beau's interlocked arms.

Ace stares, and stares, and stares — at his little sister and the familiar white-haired man he encountered early on during his journey to Alabasta — dumbfounded at the scene before him.

"Fire Fist," the Marine Vice-Admiral calls out, breaking him from his reverie.

"You—" Ace yells, flames erupting from the tips of his fingers to rapidly engulf his entire first.

Before your fiancé can return your fiery brother's sudden display of aggression, you step in between their bodies, eyes alight with fury.

"Stop it!" you scold Ace, extending your pointer finger and thumb to pinch his ear in retaliation.

He frowns at you, but obliges, flames extinguishing from his curled fist. "We need to talk. Now."

Not waiting for your response, Ace saunters off toward his bedroom at the other end of the hallway, posture stiff and robotic. To anyone, outsider or not, it was evident from Ace's appearance and demeanor that the usually friendly pirate was clearly not in a good mood.

"Just wait here. I won't be long," you say to Smoker before dashing off in pursuit of your freckled brother.

When you close the door to his bedroom, Ace begins his tirade, arms crossed against his bare chest as he faces your more petite frame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You look at him in bewilderment but don't say a word, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Him! That—that big oaf! There are millions of men in this world! And it has to be him? I don't approve!" Ace doesn't stop himself from frantically gesturing at the closed door — the only piece of barrier, aside from him, of course — separating you from your fiancé.

You frown at Ace's insult, adopting a defensive stance. "Don't call him that! And I don't need your permission, you know. Why are you acting like this?"

"You're my little sister! Of course, I'm concerned!" Ace adjusts himself from the desk he was leaning on. "Do you know what he's done to Luffy?"

You shakily exhale at his accusatory tone. "I know! We've talked about this. He's promised to look the other way when it comes to our family."

"And you believe him?"

"Of course, I do! He hasn't given me any reason to doubt him."

"He's not exactly husband material," Ace interjects, to which you roll your eyes. At this point, it was apparent to you that your big brother was grasping at straws, finding reasons — however shallow they may be — to make you reconsider this marriage.

"He dresses better than you, that's for sure," you say childishly.

Ace's eyebrows furrow, taking great offense to your statement. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"Have you seen yourself? You're always strutting around like you own the place. Shirtless and all," you comment, scrunching up your nose in disgust. "Have some common decency at least."

"He's not wearing a shirt either!" Ace says indignantly.

"No, but he has a jacket—"

"That he leaves open all the time, which basically makes it useless," Ace argues, "Why bother if you're not even gonna wear it properly?"

"Argh, forget it. I don't want to talk about this anymore," you say, burying your face in your hands.

Ace takes the hint, feeling guilty as he walks over to your defeated form to rub circles on your back slowly.

A truce, for now.

- - - - - - - - - -

Sometime later, when you return from Ace's bedroom, you find your fiancé calmly sitting on the corner of the couch. Without a word, you plop down beside him and rest your head on the crook of his shoulder.

Smoker takes a deep drag of his cigars, observing your distraught appearance and the lack of a certain cowboy-hat-wearing pirate. "Well, that went well."

SABO

Goes from 😟 to 😩 to 😭

Dies a little bit on the inside.

His precious little sister finally finds love, and who's her betrothed? The infamous White Hunter himself.

He expected this behavior from Ace, but you?

Discreetly pulls you aside to express his disapproval.

Learns to cope and eventually warms up to your relationship with the Marine. How can he not when you look so happy?

De-escalates arguments between Ace and your lover every single time.

"Sabo!" You pull your big brother into an embrace which he reciprocates.

When the blond Revolutionary notices the white-haired man standing behind you, he stiffens, gloved hand reaching behind his back to clasp his metal pipe.

Noticing your older brother's sudden alertness, you nudge his side in reassurance. "This is the fiancé I've been telling you about."

Sabo quickly puts two and two together. All those conversations you've had with him, and not once did you mention that you were engaged to an officer of the Marines. And not just any Marine officer, you were engaged to the Commander of the notorious G-5 base.

In an effort to remain composed, Sabo forces a half-hearted smile — appearing more like a grimace really, but an action you appreciated nonetheless - and extends his right arm to your fiancé for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you."

Ignoring the daggers you were glaring at the side of his face, Smoker hesitantly grips the blond Revolutionary's hand. "Pleasure," he grunts out, letting out a puff of white smoke from his cigars.

For a moment, the two men clasp at each other's hand in a show of fake camaraderie.

Choosing to ignore the growing tension thick in the air, you clap your hands together in mock enthusiasm.

"Great! Let's meet the rest of the family, shall we?"

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Goes from 😁 to 😊 to 🥳

The only one who's okay with your relationship with Smoker.

He's survived having Garp, the Hero of the Marines, as his grandfather; he can certainly handle an additional Marine in the family.

Gets along with your fiancé the best, though Smoker himself denies this.

"Woah, what's Smokey doing here?" Luffy says in awe, looking back and forth between you and the Marine.

You tap your feet in nervousness, gesturing between Smoker and your youngest brother.

"Luffy, this is my fiancé. Smoker, this is my little brother."

"I know who Straw Hat Luffy is," Smoker says impatiently, barely glancing at the pirate standing a few feet in front of him.

"You haven't been formally introduced to each other, have you?" you say indignantly, hips cocked to one side as you stare at your fiancé's tepid behavior.

"In a normal setting, I mean," you clarify, "You chasing him and his crew does NOT count."

Smoker shrugs at your accusation, and you sigh.

Luffy laughs at your scolding, looking up at the Marine. "It's okay. I meant what I said in Alabasta. I don't hate you, y'know?"

You smile at your little brother's statement. You could always count on Luffy to be accepting of your partner, whoever they may be. Also, he wasn't the type to dwell on the past, preferring instead to live in the moment. And that moment was your engagement to the Marine Vice-Admiral, the same man who used to hunt Luffy and his crew throughout the Grand Line for being wanted criminals.

'Tsk' is all Smoker says to the straw hat pirate's proclamation, earning a disapproving pinch to his side from you.

"Be nice," you whisper harshly to your fiancé's ear.

The sound of your little brother's joyous laughter is enough for the normally serious Marine to let out a small smile.

BONUS BELOW LMAO

MONKEY D. GARP

Goes from 😌 to 🥰 to 🤗

T H R I L L E D that his grandson-in-law is a respectable Marine.

The epitome of Proud Father Figure™

Compares the ASL brothers to Smoker every chance he gets during family reunions.

"Y'hear that Luffy? Smoker just caught a band of no-good pirates terrorizing the local townsfolk." Luffy picks his nose in acknowledgment.

Garp points an accusatory finger at Ace. "You damn brat, why couldn't you listen to me and become a Marine like I told you to?"

Garp gives a disapproving glare to Sabo. "And you! Why'd you have to join the shady Revolutionaries and become a wanted criminal like my son?"

Garp proceeds to give the ASL brothers multiple rounds of his fists of love. Meanwhile, he smooches your forehead in happiness for finding a suitable husband.

You and Smoker live happily ever after. The end.

#one piece #smoker x reader #monkey d. luffy #portgas d. ace #sabo #asl brothers #monkey d. garp #one piece writing #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #mywriting

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pantoneyoongi · 2 years

Text

02. the dates

title ; find room for me cast ; yoongi x you, ft bts, got7 word count ; 3k tags ; roommate!au, friends to lovers, yoongi is so bad at feelings, some of the got7 boys make for shitty dates i’m so sorry, mostly fluff, online dating, ok i know i said the got7 boys would make for shitty dates but i lied i just don’t have the heart to make them shitty, will add more tags as i go along

description ; falling in love with your roommate wasn’t part of the fine print when you signed your lease.

masterlist | part one | part three

The only reason Yoongi knows the difference between swiping left and right on a dating app is because of Jimin. Jimin, who he’s not convinced ever does his damn job, though now this useless information he’s somehow planted in Yoongi’s head is useful, so maybe he did do a job, even if it’s not his job.

You have a date tonight. Almost a week and a half worth of swiping left and right and left and right and left and right and finally you and Yoongi found a guy who was both attractive and not immediately trying to jump into your pants. But now Yoongi has been staring at his screen for the past half hour straight, pencil tapping idly against his desk, thinking about this Mark guy that you’re planning to meet for dinner later.

“Dude,” Jin snatches Yoongi’s pencil out of his hand. “Are you good? Why have you been tapping your pencil for like three hours?”

Yoongi flicks his gaze up to Jin, who is holding his pencil and staring back at him expectantly. Yoongi sucks his front teeth, grabbing the pen back from Jin. “I’m fine.”

“I bet it’s about a giiirrl,” Jimin sing-songs as he slides by, his chair rolling down the aisle.

Suddenly Jin is infinitely less irritated. He snags a chair from a neighboring desk (Jaebeom wasn’t gonna be happy about that, not that Jin cared) and plants his elbows on Yoongi’s desk, fists curled against his chin. “Tell me all about it,” he croons, and Yoongi has half a mind to toss Jin out the window, seventh story floor be damned. Jin was a resilient little fucker. He’d probably survive.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Yoongi grumbles.

“Is this about that girl you always go pick up after work?” Jimin miraculously reappears by his desk. It’s 11AM. Yoongi wants to go home.

“I’m just…” he picks his words carefully. “Worried, about her,” he decides.

It’s your first date in a while. A long while. Yoongi actually can’t remember the last time you went on a date - maybe in college? - so he thinks it’s natural that he worries about you. If Mark will be good to you, open doors for you, pull out your chair, speak kindly to you. What if he turns out to be a total douche?

“-down bad.”

Yoongi returns to the present to hear Jin whispering to Jimin. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jin and Jimin give him identical smiles. “I’m going back to work.” Jin returns to his desk while Jimin gives him a sly wink before heading off as well, leaving Yoongi confused and frustrated.

She’ll be fine, Yoongi convinces himself. She’s a big girl.

Still, his heart is unsettled in his chest.

Yoongi has the inexplicable urge to throw Jimin out the window this time. Somehow, this has to be his fault.

“So?” you ask, twirling once in your outfit. “Do you think it’s okay?”

It’s more than okay. You look incredible, dolled up in a way that Yoongi hasn’t seen in a long time. You don’t dress up much for work, and much less so when you hang out with the guys, so Yoongi feels a little flustered to see how gorgeous you are in what you inform him as your go-to date clothes.

He sees why they’re your go-to.

“You look amazing,” he says honestly, and you smile, ducking your eyes a little. You’re rarely shy like this in front of Yoongi, and his heart does something funny in his chest because of it.

“Have fun,” he says somewhat weakly, clambering up from his spot on the couch to see you out. He clears his throat. “Text me if you need me.”

Yoongi’s hand is on the door, with you halfway out in the hallway. You turn and look at him with a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Yoongi’s expression falters for just a second. But then you’re tip-toeing to pat him on the head, mussing up his hair a bit, and then you’re gone, purse over your shoulder as you head out for your date.

“Get home safe,” he mumbles, to an empty hallway.

Mark is a gentleman. He opens the door for you, pulls out your chair, tells you that you look breathtaking. He has a stunning smile and shy eyes, not to mention a distractingly deep voice. He’s every bit the perfect man on paper, if a bit quiet, but you can tell he’s trying, shamelessly watching the gears turn in his head as he tries to keep the conversation moving.

As far as dates go, it’s not a disaster. You laugh at all the right parts, nod earnestly as he tells stories. You even let him give you a kiss on the cheek goodbye when it’s time to go.

But the truth is - there’s no sparks. You don’t feel the tingle up your spine when Mark’s hand guides you out the door the same way you do when Yoongi so much as grazes your arm by accident. You hate how childish you sound even just thinking about it, your head aching with how badly you wish Mark was charming enough to overwrite the way Yoongi seems to stick permanently in your mind. You rest your forehead tiredly against your apartment door, staring down frustrated at the stupid welcome mat Jungkook and Taehyung had bought as a housewarming gift for you and Yoongi.

“This is just embarrassing,” you mutter to yourself, scuffing your shoe against the mat. It reads go away in swooping cursive (you call it the live laugh love font) and the only reason it’s still here is because neither you nor Yoongi felt like coughing up the money to buy a new one. The disaster duo had been pretty pleased with themselves for that, Taehyung and Jungkook bearing identical wide grins when Yoongi had simply sighed and waved his hand, letting them leave it outside the door.

You hate that your heart speeds up a little even at the thought of Yoongi, his lazy affections and gentle smiles. He’s probably knocked out on your couch right now, a show playing idly in the background, all tucked in with your snuggie that he pretends is a disgrace to society while also stealing it at every chance he can get. You always let him, because whenever he returns it, it smells like him.

You lift your head from the door with a heavy sigh. You squint at the bronze 314 emblazoned on your door, as if the numbers are somehow the root cause to your misery. Like you didn’t do this to yourself, choosing to move in with someone as handsome as Min Yoongi, a man who puts love and care into his every action.

Honestly, you really should have seen this coming.

With another sigh, you finally force yourself to shove your keys into the slot, pushing the door open. As expected, Yoongi is on the couch, wrapped in your snuggie. But his head pops up as soon as he hears you come through the door, eyes blinking owlishly at you as soon as he catches sight of you.

“You’re home,” he says, and for a second you think he sounds anxious, but he smiles at you, looking unbearably adorable peeking out over the couch, the hood of your snuggie slipping off his head. “How was,” he clears his throat. “How was the date?”

You flush, ducking away so he can’t see the pink in your cheeks. What can you say? That the date would’ve been incredible, had it not been for the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about him?

“It was okay,” you settle on, kicking off your shoes and setting them to the side. “He was… nice.”

He hears your hesitation. You make yourself busy with slipping off your coat, hearing him shuffle over to you, snuggie and all. “You didn’t like him?”

You turn to find him peering at you. The snuggie drowns him, maybe not as much as it drowns you, but still, he looks tiny in it, adorable in the fluffy pink, and you can’t help but quirk a smile.

“I thought you said snuggies were an abomination,” you tease in place of answering him. He huffs, yanking the hood back over his head.

“I was cold,” he sniffs, and your smile widens. “So,” he prompts, trying to distract you. “Your date?”

You have to actively force yourself not to let your smile slip entirely off your face. You shrug, walking into the kitchen while Yoongi trails after you. You hate that he sounds genuinely curious, like he’s hopeful for the details, the way any friend would be. A less mature part of you wishes he’d be jealous, or - anything, anything but staring at you patiently, waiting for you to tell him all about your entirely uneventful night.

“Like I said,” you grab a glass of water. “He was nice. He just…”

Wasn’t you.

You shake your head, downing the glass. “He just wasn’t for me, that’s all.”

Yoongi looks at you sympathetically, and you feel your embarrassment crawl up your neck again. An app, a week and a half of swiping, a whole date with your go-to date clothes, and all of it fruitless because even textbook perfection couldn’t compare to Min Yoongi.

“It was just one date,” Yoongi reassures, one hand reaching out to pat your arm. “Dating’s hard. Or,” now he looks embarrassed, “so I’ve heard.”

You manage a small laugh. Yoongi hasn’t been dating lately either, since his last girlfriend left him inexplicably. You remember it too clearly - the broken look on his face, the days of radio silence from him. It was before you moved in together, but Yoongi, quiet as he was in the group chat to begin with, had more or less disappeared off the face of the earth. It took Namjoon almost breaking Yoongi’s front door open (which, considering Namjoon, was a genuinely plausible concern) to get Yoongi to re-emerge into society.

Yoongi hasn’t been with anyone since, not even one night stands - you would’ve known if he’d brought someone home, and he hasn’t. Maybe if he had, you would’ve figured out your feelings sooner, and planned something a little more tangible than half-assed dates via online dating apps to get over him.

You press your lips together, glancing up at Yoongi. You don’t want to talk about your pathetic love life with him. Yoongi thinks it’s just one shitty date that will probably turn out to be a sea of shitty dates but you know too well that it’s one perfectly fine date that could’ve been more - if it wasn’t for your stubborn feelings for your endearing roommate.

So instead, you yank on his hood, pulling it over his eyes, earning an indignant squawk from him as you force him back into the living room, your hand on his hood the whole time, laughing loudly as he half-heartedly scrabbles at your hands. He lets you tease him, because Yoongi has always let you do whatever you want, even as he ends up collapsed on the couch, taking you down with him.

It’s too natural, the way he grins breathlessly up at you and somehow shuffles you so you’re on the inside. Yoongi shoves the snuggie off his head so he can throw the whole thing over your body like a blanket, using the hood of it to trap your face under. You shriek a little, but Yoongi laughs louder, even as you kick your feet to get him off you.

“I have make up on, Yoongi,” you complain, shoving the snuggie out of your face. He relents, but it’s his genuine look of surprise when you emerge from underneath that makes you burst into giggles again.

You heave yourself up into a sitting position on the couch, Yoongi shifting so he’s sitting next to you. His fingers are still curled into the snuggie like he’s planning to attack you with it again, but he’s too busy observing your face to make a move. It makes your cheeks heat up again. “What?”

“You have makeup on?” he asks, bewildered, and you scoff out a laugh.

“Yeah? Did you think I went on a date without makeup?”

“I just,” he sputters a little. “It doesn’t look like - you know what, never mind.”

“What, you just think I look this cute all the time?” you joke, but he looks at you seriously, and you kind of want to swallow your words.

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. One hand drops the snuggie and you freeze in place, eyes darting down as Yoongi reaches for you. He must realize what he’s doing because he stops halfway, hand immediately going back to clutch at the fabric. “Honestly I think only Taehyung would notice the difference.”

You release the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and force a laugh out of your mouth. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The next series of dates are uneventful. They are in fact so dull that you’ve removed their names from your memory altogether, so that when you come home from your sixth date, Yoongi doesn’t even ask with words about your date, just lifts his head up and raises his eyebrows.

You shake your head. Your first date had been the best to be honest, and the most memorable part of the past few dates have been just how impressively unimpressive these men are.

“I should start swiping for you again,” Yoongi mutters into his cup. “This is like the tenth time you’ve come home looking like someone made you sit through a lecture on calculus.”

(He knows it’s the sixth. But he refuses to admit he’s been counting.)

“Don’t you like calculus?” you ask, amused, as you slide your coat off. You don’t notice the way Yoongi’s eyes trail over your outfit for tonight’s date, nor the way he takes a beat too long to answer.

“I do,” he says, readjusting his grip on his cup when he realizes it was slipping. “You don’t, though.”

“I don’t,” you agree readily, sighing as you sink onto the couch beside him. Yoongi relaxes back into the couch next to you, shoulders brushing. You lean your head towards him. “Should I just date Kookie?”

Yoongi chokes on his water. You burst out laughing, pleased by his reaction. Yoongi is so rarely shocked by anything, so you can’t contain your giggles even when he glares at you, setting the mug down.

“You leave that kid alone,” he warns, but you just blink innocently at him. “Y/N…”

You wiggle happily in your seat, snatching the control from the table. “So,” you dismiss him. “Scary movie tonight?”

“Absolutely not,” he grumbles, as you put on Insidious anyway. You glance at him, the pout to his lips, the way he curls up on the couch, and for a night, you let yourself indulge. Just for a night, you tell yourself, as you lay your head on his shoulder. Just for one night.

Youngjae is sweet. Really, he is. You can tell he’s nervous, but he smiles widely at you, listens intently, laughs loudly. He’s not practiced like some of the other boys you’d met were - almost smacking you in the face trying to open the door for you, the chair screeching obnoxiously loudly when he pulls it out for you. But he’s trying - a perfect, awkward, clumsy gentleman.

You like him, actually, except for the fact that he draws so much attention from how loud he doesn’t even seem to realize he is. Or that he’s a messy eater, or that he chews with his mouth open, or that he looks at you with childlike wonder.

None of these traits are particularly concerning. They’re not even pet peeves for you. But you lack sparks even when he’s trying to create them with energetic attempts, and while you smile at him before you head home, your heart sinks in your chest.

He’s just - not Yoongi.

Every time, they’re just…

Not Yoongi.

Jinyoung is handsome, dressed smart, thick framed glasses that seal in how attractively intelligent he is. He’s equal parts fascinatingly intelligent and charmingly sweet, topics ranging from the study of whales to musical theater. You’re sure, to someone, he’s captivating.

It’s not his fault. Your heart’s not really in it, and to be honest, at this point, you’re barely trying. Enough to be polite, maybe even properly hold his attention sometimes, but every movement he makes has you thinking of what Yoongi would do instead.

“Hey,” Jinyoung says, before you part ways outside the restaurant. You turn to look at him. “Whoever he is, you should probably just tell him.”

You freeze, pink coloring your cheeks rapidly. He doesn’t say it maliciously, a gentle smile curving his lips when he looks at you. You stutter a little, but no real words come out, and he chuckles.

“Your mind’s not with me,” he shrugs. “That’s alright.” He presses his lips together. “I only realized because mine wasn’t really with you either.”

You soften. “Are you going to tell her?”

He breathes in deeply, straightening a little as he mulls it over. His gaze flickers back to you, lips quirking upwards. “I think I should at least try.”

That makes you smile, and he returns it, waving goodbye as you head in opposite directions.

“Is it working?” Namjoon asks you over coffee, and you peer at him.

“Is what working?”

“The thing,” he clarifies unhelpfully. “You know. The app thing. With Yoongi.”

Namjoon has an impressively high IQ and also a master’s in philosophy. He rarely speaks in anything other than full, eloquent sentences, and he’s reduced your dating dilemma to, ‘the thing’.

You pin him with an unamused stare. “Taehyung?”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon confirms, hiding his smile behind his cup. You wrinkle your nose.

“It’s not,” you sigh, stirring the spoon in your cup. “The last guy literally told me to just confess.”

“Why don’t you?”

You stare incredulously at him. “Namjoon. I live with him. What the fuck do I do when he rejects me?”

“If,” Namjoon points out. “And Yoongi’s a good guy. He won’t be weird about it, you know that.”

You do know that. You scowl.

“Besides,” Namjoon says. “Odds are in your favor, anyway.”

You squint at him. “What are you talking about?”

Namjoon shrugs, but there’s a slight smirk on his face. “Oh, nothing,” he hums. “Just let me know how it goes.”

“If.”

#yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #suga #suga fanfic #suga fanfiction #fluff #bts yoongi #bts #bts: yoongi #this took so long and honestly was halfway to just giving up on it but we'll see maybe i will see it through to the end #it's a mess w/e #series: frfm

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chocominnie · 3 years

Text

One Last Time 04 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02 03

⇢ Word Count : 4.7k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Last night can’t get out of your mind. It’s not like you to do such a dumb thing. Kissing Jimin... you didn’t know what had gotten into you last night. The last thing you’d ever want to do is have someone go through the same thing you did with Jimin when he had cheated on you. Your mind raced all night thinking if that kiss, that one sole kiss, would make you the bad guy? Make this whole situation worse?

Wrong.

Both of you were vulnerable and just not the same. Of course you’re still tender to the subject of and about him, and forever will have have a soft spot for Jimin. You didn’t expect that to happen though.

‘‘ Yes.. Yes.. Okay.. I understand.”

You drone on for the millionth time today. Only 9 am and calls are making their way to you. You’ve been caught. Someone spotted you and Jimin last night walking to your apartment. Luckily the pictures were only garage scenes of you and him. Jimin’s head hanging low trailing a distance behind you while you hold your sore arm. Thankfully, by the looks of the new articles every damn hour, they think that you had hurt yourself and Jimin was supposedly there for you for comofort.

The fanpages are going to have a field day with that.

Your manager continues to lecture you about how this could start a scandal, how you should of been more careful, and finally that those words everyone has told you before. He wasn’t good to you, move on.

‘‘ Listen im just going to be with Ryan today and she’s bringing Jungkook. We are heading over to Ryan’s office to discuss things and what not.’‘ You sigh into the phone, wanting to hang up already.

Your manager on the other line is hesitant for you to go, but gives in once you say you’ll only be an hour in and out. That’s the only way you’ll get to go out today. Whenever small scandals like this brew up, the management company would make you stay low for the next three days.

You both say your goodbyes and then hang up. Finally. Somewhere in the room Clara lets out one of her tiny meows making you smile to yourself. The day planned ahead is way more exciting than you worrying to yourself

‘‘ Baby please. I have to go’‘

Isabel smirks lowly while shaking her head. Jimin watches her intensively as her hands roam all around his now bare chest, that was covered with a shirt two minutes ago.

‘‘ Jimin, you and I both know that we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately.’‘

Her dainty fingertips trace over his forming abs one by one staring him straight in the eyes. He bites his lip hard just before letting out a useless groan with his head thrown back in the chair. It’s true. With all the celebrity show appearances they’ve had, the quality time together has been cut short.

He ries to pry her hands away from his jeans but it’s no use. “ I have to leave, Jungook wants me at Ryan’s office in twenty minutes.”

Her face turns into a pout, lifting her hands from his jeans. ‘’ So he’s more important than your girlfriend?’’

‘‘ Well I mean he is my blood broth- Fuck!’’

It’ was quick enough to where he didn’t feel it coming. Before he knew it, his jeans were unbuttoned and her mouth glides across the imprint of his shaft hiding behind his boxers. “ We can stop and you can leave.. if you want..” She knows exactly what shes doing by making sure her voice is low and those round eyes meeting his.

His groans only become louder when she takes a long, slow lick from the base to the tip. There’s no way on hell he’ll miss this opportunity to get some head. Jimin’s craving for sex has been high lately and with no time to recieve pleasure, he damn sure wasn’t gonna let up this offer. “ Fuck that. Keep going my love.”

Grabbing a fistful of Isabel’s hair, he yanks his boxers down revealing his thick, hard member hat springs up to his belly button. Isabel smirks at him just before taking the whole thing down her throat making Jimin moan out louder in pleasure. The sound of sucking, wet noises fill the studio’s ambiance.

Jimin watches her intensely while letting out low groans and growls as her bobbing head becomes quicker. This isn’t what he wants truly. What he wants is you. You is who he wishes who’d be pleasuring him right now. The way you’d sometimes gag on him when his dick filled your mouth completely was something he’d always enjoyed seeing. The way your eyes water with him stuffed in your mouth but determined to go on was a major turn on for him. He wants you and only you. Right now in this moment Isabel doesn’t mean shit to him but you do.

He can’t help but to lean back in his chair and close his eyes waiting to chase his high, all with the thoughts of you and your guises past sexual encounters turning him on even more with the lost track of time in the back of his mind.

You on the other hand, wait with Jungkook and Ryan who are getting a bit anxious waiting for the boy’s arrival. You of course didn’t want him to come. It’ll only make things more complicated than it is right now. Essentially you were going to leave when Jungkook said he’d be inviting Jimin.. yet again.

Seeing as though when you were on your way to the office, you had glanced at the clouds and could see a big thunderstorm brewing. You’d rather not take your chances of being rained on while walking back to your apartment.

‘‘ Geez where is this guy? He’s always late ever since he’s been with Isa-”

A shove by Ryan shuts him right up before finishing his sentence. Ryan gives him a glare and a few utters of words to him before turning back to the giant window that gazes over the bright nightlife of Seoul.

One part of you wishes for Jimin not to actually show up but the other does. Just to see his face and reaction too you ever since yesterday. But just for the sake of it, you won’t bring it up. Play it off like it never happened.

‘‘ Was it really necessary for us to come at night? We couldn’t of just come during the day?’’ Jungkook says, walking over to her.

He snakes his arms around his waist placing gentle butterfly kisses around her neck. The reflection off the mirror shows her facial expression, a slight smile as they sway from side to side. A ping of happiness shoots through you at the sight of them. It reminds you of you and Jimin. That happiness quickly shuts down.

You smile to yourself, “Well i’m a model, Jungkook and his brother are idols, and you’re an upcoming fashion designer dating said Idol. ”

Jungkook clears his throat before placing his arm gently around Ryan, “ Yeah she’s MY girlfriend.’’ He says proudly. Ryan shakes her head while playfully rolling her eyes.

You giggle along with her. It’s only been a short while since he’s asked her and he seems so happy and proud with her. Something you wish that Jimin wouldn’t have ruined for you two.

‘‘ Nobody knows we are dating and If paparazzi catches you coming to my office it’s going to stir up something rather it be little or not.’‘ Ryan sighs, sitting down next to you on the white couch.

Jungkook pauses to be silent for a second but continues on, “ That would happen regardless because paparazzi comes out at any time of day. We just so happen not to get caught.’’

Your frail hands begin to play with the sleeve of your shirt at the wrists. Something you do when anxious but trying to keep calm. You’re starting to get annoyed with this couple talk. You’re happy for them but rubbing it in is starting to hurt a bit. Where is he at?

‘‘ You know what im tired of waiting. If he comes he comes. If he doesn’t oh well we already knew he’s an asshole because of that girl now.” Ryan scoffs.

She folds her arms as she leans onto Jungkook who’s now sitting on the arm of the couch. He chuckles at her pouting and sudden anger just before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

You take in the sight of them. Two love birds that mean the world to each other. You wouldn’t dare want nor try to break them up. You knew Jungkook has been waiting for that moment to ask her. When he did on that day Ryan couldn’t of been even more happier.

And if as on cue, that familiar face comes in quietly with two large brown bags in his hands. You choose not to make eye contact with him when he stops infront of the couch, glancing at you.

‘‘ Im sorry im late. I bought food for us..” He pleads for forgiveness. If it was up to you then you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Hell, you still don’t want to forgive him for that act last night. Yet you can’t be a hypocrite because you’re just as guilty.

Jungkook takes the bags from him due to the way to familiar scent coming from them. Jajangmyeon. His favorite noodles of all time. A quick way to earn his forgiveness of anything.

‘‘ You are forgiven don’t let it happen again,” He says, smiling ear to ear as he pulls out his serving of noodles.

Ryan hands you a pair of chopsticks and your serving of noodles. You thank her and look down at the bowl. If you did eat it that means you forgave him, if you didn’t that means you wont. Your mind doesn’t know which one to pick.

While everyone sits there talking amongst themselves you sit there with chopsticks in hand zoned out. You seen the hickies when he had came in. When he had tilted his head announcing his arrival, thats when you saw it peeking from under his scarf. that The dark bruises peaked up and back into hiding whenever he moved.

‘‘ You don’t like the noodles?” Jungkook says, taking a big bite of noodles then slurping them up.

Ryan gives you one of your guises code looks but you give one back to say you are fine. ‘’ Im sorry I was just zoned out.’’

You don’t engage on any of the conversation instead you sit there eating your noodles quietly until they’re gone. That is until the real reason why you are here is brought up.

‘‘ We are here because me and Jungkook have thought about you guys.” Ryan glances at the boy who’s now wiping his face free of sauce.

Great. When are people going to stop doing that though?

‘‘ Ryan come on now, I honestly don’t care. He’s happy with her and I am with myself. Im serious. Please stop thinking about things like this. Im happy can’t you see that! ‘‘ By this point you know you’re all worked up.

It isn’t the truth, but you just want everyone to stop worrying so you could move on. Bringing the whole situation up all the time is draining for you and you’d rather not be reminded of Jimin and what he does and how he’s doing.

Jimin keeps quite with a stare that’s intense on you. You stare right back at him with an emotionless expression. The both of your eyes never leave each-other but you knew it had hurt him. Saying that you’re fine but he knows you’re bothered a lot.

Jungkook sighs heavily, “Baby-Cheeks don’t get all upset now. We are just worried solely on you. Even Jimin is and we all came to an agreement to have this civil conversation right here and now because all of it needs to be addressed.”

You cock your head slightly to the side not leaving Jimin’s eyes. You knew for a fact that this entire conversation is his doing just by Jungkook saying that last sentence.

“ I told you to stop worrying about me. I really meant it. I’m fine. I am F I N E .’’ You spell out the words, then shake your head clearly pissed off.

‘‘ But you aren’t. You constantly lose focus and don’t talk as much. Im worried for you so much that it pains me to even see you like this.” Jimin bites his lips to prevent from breaking down. You know that expression all to well.

That still doesn’t mean he should be worrying about you. You two are no longer together and no matter how many times you scream it to the top of your lungs each time, nobody listens to you.

‘‘ I am fine. I promise you guys. I’ve just had a comeback and they set me on a strict diet for the next few months and I go to the gym more than I used to because that’s what us models do. Since I have been absent for a year now my break time is over. The reason I zone out is because I have a busy schedule and sleep is whenever I can get it so that makes me tired often. I am fine.”

Your explanation is partially true and you do feel bad for lying on some of the parts but knowing them they will keep doing whatever to make things right. It’s time for you and them to stop worrying about Jimin and your relationship with each other.

The group doesn’t say anything after that. You tried to keep the best serious tone you had to explain that to them. Luckily they fell through and believed it. All except Jimin.

‘‘ Now can we move on? Is everything okay now?” You ask, looking at both Ryan and Jungkook. They both shake their head slowly still unsure of what to think.

‘‘ Well since that is over with, lets all take our leave yeah?” Ryan sighs, collecting everybody’s trash from the food. You nod your head and begin to help her while the boys go somewhere in the room to talk privately together.

You don’t care enough to want to know about what they’re saying. As long as they don’t bring anything of worriedness about you again then it’s okay. Soon after the room is all cleaned up you grab your coat and scarf. Jungkook grabs Ryan’s and helps her into hers, zipping it all the way up.

‘‘ My baby can’t catch a cold.” He giggles before placing a kiss on her forehead. Ryan turns a deep red in her cheeks as he continues to dress her properly for the snow outside.

‘‘ Can we talk privately again?’‘ A quite voice says behind you. You knew it all to well. But you don’t turn around at all while slipping your coat on.

‘‘ I’ve thought I made myself clear. I don’t need to say it again. Please just accept it.” The maroon colored scarf is gently placed around you from behind.

You grab his hands to stop him but he’s quick enough to come in-front of you and begin to wrap it for you. “ You lied. You can fool them but not me.’’

You break his hands away from the scarf, making sure to glare at him before you storm out of the office. All of the pressure and just concern in general is getting to you. It’s not like you to get worked up to this point. You hate making scenes and you knew that when you left like that it’s going to spark more curiousness.

The heel of your black suede thigh high boots click down the hallway fast as tears feel the brim of your eyes. Why wont they just leave it be?

After taking the long way out and going down three flights of stairs from the emergency exit, you make it down to the lobby and out the rotating doors.

When you do you almost choke out a whimper at the sight at Jimin greeting Isabel with a hug in which she pulls him down to a deep passionate kiss while waiting in-front of his car.

He was just upstairs dressing you properly, but kissing on her a few minutes later. Typical Jimin.

You bite your lip hard enough for the taste of blood to fill your mouth to prevent from crying right then and there. You can’t show her any sign of weakness. This is what she wants you to do. Cry and breakdown in-front of her to gain victory. She can’t have it. She wont have it.

You slip your hands into the coat pockets and begin your journey down the street. Catching a taxi would be no use. The cold harsh wind mixing with the hard drops of rain feel euphoric but numb to you.

‘‘ What are you doing? You’ll catch a cold for walking in this type of weather!” A voice yells far from behind you.

You don’t bother to look back at him. You up your pace just by a little to get that voice far away from you as possible. He kissed you last night, but kissed her right infront of you. The lump in your throat is sore and your heart hurts with each step you take. Is this how the game goes? It hurts. It hurts a lot.

The wind blows harsh and the rain blows on your face making your makeup wet but not smeared. The mascara running down your face doesn’t matter from your wet tears.

The stop lights turn yellow, red, and then green a couple of times. You count the number of changes before walking past it. Three times total.

Yellow

Red

Green

then back again.

The thunder roars causing you to jump a bit, but you’re numb to any noise around you anyways. You sniffle repeatedly to stop your nose from running but why not just let it run? Why not just let everything go. Let yourself go. Yeah that sounds about right. Let yourself g-

The blackness of your vision is sudden. No chance to react when the sound disappears from it. To the ground your body goes, laying there in a puddle of water. Your eyes blink slowly when you wince in pain upon bringing your hand up to your head. Vision goes in and out, in and out. You can’t hear the disorted person above you screaming and shaking you just before blacking out again.

The look of horror on his face and adrenaline runs through his body as soon as your eyes close. He thinks it’s his fault. His fault for wanting to keep talking to you. His fault for kissing you last night. His fault for stressing you out to your limits for you to walk home instead of asking him for a ride.

Running his hand through his hair, he slowly picks up your limp body. He saw that fall, and that fall was hard. You slipped on a decent sized amount of a dirt and mud mixture from not paying attention. Tears roll down his eyes when he places you in the passenger seat to buckle your seatbelt where your chest rises up and down. A sign of life.

The ride to your house is hell for him. Constantly hitting the steering wheel out of anger from himself and crying loudly wishing for you to be fine and okay. The hospital wasn’t an option right now. If paparazzi saw him taking you in unconcious right after the small scandal, he’d be sure that he’d be on the news for the next two weeks for supposedly abusing you, which isn’t the case.

It doesn’t take him long to arrive, considering he was tokyo drifting through the streets of Seoul. Laying your body on your bed, he sees the bottom of your outfit is dirty with mud. At first he hesitates but keeping muddy clothes on you wouldn’t be right of him.

After picking out some sweatpants, he moves on to your hoodie collection and spots one in the back of the drawer folded into a ball. Jimin lets out a small laugh when he realizes its one of his. It must of ended up here in transit when packing from the old apartment.

Nevertheless, he decides it’s that one you’ll be wearing and not anyone of the others. When it comes time to undress you, he looks away when taking off your clothes and putting the new clothes on. He tucks you in when done, planting a small kiss on your forehead just before going to get an icepack for you to place it on your head.

The sound of cartoons playing in a distance wakes you up. Your eyes stir open until full view. The throbbing of your head makes you wince a little. You’re just as more confused as to when you made it into your apartment let alone your room.

‘‘ You’re awake?’‘

He places the icepack on the back of your head but when he goes to grab your hand to make you secure it, your heart skips a beat when his soft hand touches yours. It’s been a while since you last had his warm touch against yours.

The thoughts in your head stops when he lets go of your now cold hand. ‘‘ Why are you here?” You say, finally looking at him.

‘‘ You fell. You fell on a puddle of mud while crossing over to the next sidewalk.” He sighs, eyes staring at you with anger yet relief. Instead of fighting back for the sake of your throbbing head, you just look down.

Thats when you notice the new set of clothes on your body. You certainly weren’t wearing this hoodie before. In fact you knew for a fact that this particular hoodie was balled up in the back of your dresser drawer. It’s his.

“ You undressed me?” You yell, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You pull the cover closer up to your body out of embarassment but Jimin doesn’t care. He’s more worried about the fall than the undressing.

“ Do you fucking know how got damn worried I was?” Jimin walks over to you with his arms crossed and jaw clenching. You want to hide right about now. “You’re more worried about if I was a pervert or not but news flash, I didn’t even look at you while undressing you. I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

Silence is golden.

‘‘ We all shouldn’t have been out there with a storm coming, but we came to the office for your sake. You keep putting yourself at risk, just stop!‘‘ He semi-yells at you.

You know he’s correct but that doesn’t stop you from forming the lecture into an arguement.

‘‘ Risk? I don’t take risks unless necessary. I was just minding my business and walking home. I guess I wasn’t mindful for that the weather wasn’t suitable for walking. Thank you for tending to me.’’

The boy scoffs with a sarcastic smile on his face backing away from your bed. You close your eyes knowing you shouldn’t of said that. ‘‘ Wasn’t mindful? Really? Why can’t you just listen to me whenever I need you to?”

‘‘ You were with Isabel. I don’t have anything to do with your guys relationship at all. I didn’t want to seem like a threat to her. ‘‘

Jimin sighs and rubs his temples, ‘’ You know you’re hard headed right? Do you think I give a flying fuck if she was there or not? You health and you yourself are important to me. ‘’

Here we go again.

‘‘ I said don’t worr-’‘

Jimin raises up quickly with anger and sadness written all over his face, ‘’ I don’t care what you say. Fucking listen to me when I say so! I’m going to worry about you until the day I die and cannot breathe anymore! Accept it okay?’’ He semi- yells, chest heaving up and down fast.

You keep your eyes away from his. You knew it would happen. You knew he would blow up somehow today.

‘‘ Im not going to accept it. Want to know why? I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I have to accept the fact that you no longer are in a relationship with me Jimin. You need to too.’‘

Jimin sighs, pacing back in forth across the wooden floor while running his fingers through his hair repeatedly, “ I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be like this. I’m not letting it happen anymore. From now on I will be checking on you everyday. Understand?’’

‘‘ No I don-”

‘‘ Understand?’‘ He growls, head whipping towards your direction.

There it goes. Pissed off Jimin. The side of his dominance that he dares anyone to overpower.

‘‘ Jimin you cannot come he-”

He shoots you a glare wanting his question answered now. You bite your lip making sure to shut the fuck up at this point. Anything you say after you know would do damage. ‘‘ Do you. Fucking. Understand?’‘

You nod your head. When he becomes like this there isn’t any way to stop him or change his mind.

‘‘ Good. Im not leaving for the night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Woah Jimin. Okay that’s too far. That’s considered cheating on Isabel.”

‘‘ It’s not. Not if im not with her anymore.’‘

Your heart jumps at those words. Not with her anymore?

‘‘ You honestly didn’t have to break up with her for me.”

You know you’d honestly feel very bad, but not as bad because she honestly deserves it for being a homewrecker. Then again, what does that make you?

‘‘ We technically are on a break. Im planning to break up with her in a couple of days.” He says, turning the blaring hot heater that was turned on prior to you waking up, onto it’s low settings.

You decide that’s enough of questions and to just enjoy his company there while it lasts. Putting the cover back down, you pick up your phone from the nightstand. A few texts from your manager, a missed call from Ryan. By the looks of it they both don’t know what happened and that somehow relieves you.

Looking back up at him, you notice him turned around about to take off his shirt. His back muscles are evident and flex whenever he moves. You miss those. The way they’d feel under your hands and nails when he used to be ontop of you giving you the best nights of your life.

You hadn’t known he had turned around because you’re too deep in thought recalling those nights. “ Im assuming you like what you see?”

So you’ve been caught. “ No. Put your shirt back on.” Its a lie but you can’t admit to daydreaming about him.

‘‘ Hush im just changing into new clothes.’‘

You watch him go to your bottom left dresser and it all clicks to you. Back when you both shared an apartment Jimin kept extra clothing for emergencies always in the left bottom drawer.

You don’t know why, but you felt that it was tradition to put his extra clothing inside the bottom left drawer when you moved into here. Jimin had left the box of emergency clothing, on accident, with you as the both of you moved out.

When things had arrived here and you started unpacking you had seen what was inside the box. Instead of calling him to retrieve it, you just placed them in the bottom left drawer of your dresser in case something had ever happened where he was in need.

And that scenario just so happened to play out today.

You close your eyes as he casually slips his pants off in front of you. You want to peak but choose not to. ‘‘ Why are you covering your eyes? You’ve seen all of me before.”

And you want to see it all again.

‘‘ Yeah whatever. Im sleepy.’‘

You rub your eyes and let out a quite yawn. You can feel his eyes staring into you so you turn to face him while getting comfortable under the covers.

Jimin turns out the lights first and then the t.v. Pitch black just how you like it.

‘‘ I forgot how cute you can be.’‘ He shakes his head, pulling you closer to him to where you’re laying on his chest with his arms wrapped around you.

His heartbeat is relaxing to you. So relaxing that soon enough, the both of you are fast asleep tangled in each-others love.

Once again, you fell for his sweet-talking and little white lies. All because you want another chance, one last time.

255 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 3 years

Note

Supervillain AU! I formally request the special addition of Yuu’s first kidnapping please.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“Yoo-hoo, Reporter-chan? Wakey-wakey, it’ll be bad for you if you don’t get up soon~”

Yuu shakes their head groggily, the sing-songy voice not helping the pounding in their temple.

“Did someone get the number of the truck that hit me?” They mumble, blinking to try and get their eyes to focus.

“Dammit Deuce, you gave them brain damage.” A familiar, much more annoyed sounding voice said. “Their head’s gonna be all screwy and useless now, dumbass.”

“It was just a lovetap though!” A third voice, also familiar, protested.

The floor finally stopped moving in front of their eyes and Yuu realized some very important things.

One, the floor they were staring at was not the floor of the library where they last remembered being.

Two: Their arms and legs seemed to be tied tight to the arms and legs of an iron garden chair.

Three: There are many odd-looking people standing near them, all in clothes that are too coordinated not to be a uniform but too outlandish to represent a government group of some kind.

Oh Great Seven, Yuu thinks with a rising sort of hysteria. It’s finally happened.

Clowns have come to take me away for not brushing my teeth enough like Mom said when I was little.

“...Are ya sure you didn’t break ‘em?”

“...”

“Deuce.”

Yuu wonders if they should feel offended at being talked around like this.

“Enough of this nonsense!” A hand seizes Yuu’s chin and pulls their head up to face the latest speaker. An imperious-looking young man stands and walks towards the reporter, clicking his fingers. “Three of Clovers.”

A tall man in glasses hands the imperious young man what Yuu recognizes as their wallet. The shorter man glances at the contents disdainfully. “You. First and last name and age, now.”

“Y-Yuu Radcliffe, 23 years.” The reporter stutters, their initial hysteria morphing into a sinking feeling in their gut. If not the clowns, then... “Can I ask who I have the pleasure of talking to?”

“No.” The redhead holding their wallet snaps. “Current occupation and birthday?”

“Field reporter at TWST local news.” They force themselves to relax the fists their hands have balled into. “March 18th.”

Remember what Uncle Divvy always says. Stay calm, act cooperative, do or say whatever you need to to avoid injury. Any supervillains on this level trying to curry favor with or blackmail the dumb bird will have to go through Uncle Divvy first to contact him, and he’ll take care of the rest.

All Yuu needs to do is keep themselves alive until then.

They still can’t help but dread what they know is coming next.

The supervillain seems to notice their distress, and smirks cruelly. He takes his time walking forward and leaning down until he’s on the reporter’s eye level, hands resting on the back of the chair and eyes flicking over their face, almost as if he’s savoring the moment before he makes their life that much more painful.

Yuu braces themselves as he opens his mouth–!

“What is the best type of tea?”

Huh?

“Wait, what? I don’t—” Yuu asks, backpedalling as the supervillain’s face grows stormy at their lack of response. “Uuh...green tea? I guess? I mean, it’s the one I like the most, but I’m more of a coffee or hot cocoa person, so I’m not the best one to ask...”

The person holding their chin sucks in through their teeth and the annoyed familiar voice outside their periphary snickers “Oooh, busted~”

The supervillain is beginning to go as red as his hair, and the reporter can hear his teeth grinding. His hands are now gripping the back of the chair so tight Yuu would almost swear they hear the metal by their ears creak.

“Ri–Royal.” The man with glasses says.

The supervillain inhales and exhales almost violently, until what’s visible of his face under that mask is looking less flushed.

“The correct answer,” He says, voice trembling with emotion. “Was all teas at their due times. To drink green tea instead of rosehip at breakfast, or lemon tea at 8pm...the nerve of your arrogance is astounding!”

Yuu...genuinely isn’t sure how they’re supposed to respond to that. Instead they just go with, “I’m sorry, I’ve never had rosehip or lemon tea. Do you like them?”

“Do I—?!” The supervillain’s mouth works soundlessly, gradually going red again. He pushes off the chair sharply. “I—the ro—i-it’s not a matter of liking!! These are the Rules!! And the Rules must be obeyed!! Three of Clovers!”

“Yes, Royal Flush?” The glasses man asks.

“The reporter is forbidden from having any montblanc after dinner, and will take two cups of lemon tea at 8pm tonight and two cups of rosehip tomorrow at breakfast.” Royal Flush flashes them a cruel smirk. “Consider it a light punishment for your impertinence.”

Yuu blinks. Tries to make sense of what they’ve just heard.

Blinks again.

“You know if you just wanted to ask me out to dinner, I’d have taken a nice invitation or a bouquet. You didn’t need to knock me out and tie me up like this, I’m not that picky. I do have Tinder.”

Glasses guy makes a choking noise and erupts into a coughing fit.

The hand that’s been holding Yuu’s chin migrates to their shoulder for support as its owner lets out an undignified snort and gasps out something that sounds vaguely like “why wasn’t I recording, that was Magicam gold!” as he giggles. He’s a redhead too, but much more orange than his boss.

There’s a sputter of hysterical laughter that has Yuu twisting their head to see the two guys and the cat from the hydroelectric plant, both with these odd-looking metal collars around their necks, but otherwise unharmed. The talking cat is trussed up in so many ropes that it looks more like a bobblehead, also wearing a weird collar.

The third redheaded one is bracing his hands on his knees, wheezing out a litany of “holy shit, holy shit” between chortles. The dark haired one is holding the cat a confused expression, cutting off his friend’s laughter when he turns to ask, “Ace, what’s tinder?”

The momentary silence lets an odd squeaking noise be heard.

One that gradually grows in volume until it’s an outright screech coming from the supervillain in front of them. He’s so red Yuu is honestly worried about his blood pressure, pointing a shaking finger at them.

“I—YOU—YOU—OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!”

Yuu chokes a little at the feeling of cold metal materializing around their neck, dragging their head down with its weight. The supervillain continues screeching, refusing to even look at the reporter. “YOU—! DUNGEON! RIGHT NOW!! NO DESSERTS!! GO!!”

There’s an awkward moment as Royal Flush turns away from them, as if expecting them to get up and walk out of their own accord while his back is to them.

“...So, does that mean you want them to untie me or something, or...?” Yuu wiggles their firmly bound hands and feet for emphasis.

The supervillian makes a sound like a kettle whistling, before he barks out. “Two of Spades! Ace of Hearts! GET them OUT OF MY SIGHT until they’re WILLING to COOPERATE!!”

The dark haired young man quickly shuffles forward, grabs the back of the chair, and drags it and the poor reporter attached to it out of the room and into the corridor. The metal screeches as it moves from carpet to concrete.

“Wh—Two, no, untie them first.” The man with glasses says, despairing, appearing in the doorway. “You’ll mark up the floor otherwise.”

“Ah! Sorry, senpai!” Two looks between the cat in his arms and the knots on the chair, before shoving the cat into the arms of the redhead who answers to “Ace”. Neither of them look happy with this development.

“Fgnah! Quit squeezing, ya jerk!” The cat protests, wriggling as best it can.

“Oh? What’s that? I’m sorry, I just need to make sure that greatest, lamest supervillain in the city doesn’t escape to go setting random crap in the lair on fire again.” Ace says sweetly, grip tightening.

“Tha’s your fault, an’ you know it!” The cat wheezes out, thrashing harder.

Yuu winces. “Hey, quit hurting him. Whatever he did, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The dark haired minion barks out a laugh as he tugs the ropes away from their right wrist while his redheaded counterpart sneers at them.

“Oh really? Bet you’ll change your tune real quick once you learn it’s thanks to him you’re here in the first place.” Ace of Hearts mocks. “Dumb monster sang like a damn canary when Royal pressured him a tiiiny bit, saying it was all your fault his precious ingredient is now in the sewers.”

“Tha’s a lie!” The monster? cat blurts out too quickly for comfort. “It’s all these two morons, I swear!”

“Why you little—“

“I don’t care.” Yuu cuts in before Two of Spades can hit the animal. “I didn’t destroy that thing, but even if none of you said anything, your boss would’ve found out I was involved anyway from watching my report on it on the news. So I don’t care, just-just quit hurting him.”

There’s a tense moment as the two minions stare down at the reporter. They do their best to meet the gazes without flinching.

Then the Ace of Hearts tosses the cat into their lap as the Two of Spades sinks back down to keep working on their ankle. “Fine. Since you like it so much, you can take care of it. Just don’t expect me to cover for your ass—you still owe me for the power plant.”

“I’m sorry?” Yuu curls their free arm around the bundle of rope, fur, and yowling insults and pulls it closer to them. “Shouldn’t that be the other way round?”

“You locked me in a closet with him!” Ace hisses. “Do you know how hard it was to get out before the cops came with him freaking out and messing stuff up?!”

“Oi.” Two shoots him a dark look from where he’s finished untying the reporter’s left hand. “Like you weren’t whining about us being digested until you knocked a broom over!”

“Sh-shut up!”

“Well excuse me for trying to save your lives.” Yuu bites back, rubbing the rope marks on their wrists. “Next time I’ll just run and let the sludge monster eat your unconscious bodies.”

“It’d save us all the trouble of this shit if you did!” Ace spits, jabbing a finger at his collar. “At least then we wouldn’t be on Royal’s shit list!”

Yuu lets the piece of information they were just given marinate in their brain as they glare at him. Well, now what exactly was that supposed to mean?

“Ngh...this knot won’t come loose.” Two says from by the reporter’s left foot.

“How about now?” Replies an unfamiliar voice, as a disembodied hand pulls deftly at a loop in the rope.

“Ah!” Two of Spades brightens up as the rest of the rope falls away. “Thanks a lot—”

The disembodied hand punches him in the face.

Yuu cries out in alarm at the sight of the minion falling backwards into the Ace of Hearts, knocking him down like a bowling pin.

A pair of clawed hands are then scooping them up, extra cat and all, and the reporter finds themself looking at the unsettlingly wide smile and purple cat ears of one of the city’s top heroes, running at full speed while sharpened playing cards whizz past his face and Ace calls out behind them “Senpai! It’s him again!!”

There’s a percussive boom somewhere in the distance, and screams of how the flamingos are loose as the hero winks down at Yuu. “Seems you’re a popular one today, kitten! But let’s get you back to where you where before you were so rudely catnapped, yes?”

“Not so fast, hero!” The orange haired guy choruses from the entrance to the staircase, and—from behind them as well?

The reporter’s heart sinks as more and more versions of the minion keep popping up around them, to the point where the hero is forced to stand on the bannister of the balcony they’re on.

And based on the fact that the hero hasn’t used his invisibility? Intangibility? powers, it’s likely that he can’t use them while holding Yuu and the cat.

They’re surrounded.

“You really can’t keep your paws out of anything that’s mine, can you?” Royal Flush’s tone is clipped as he glares up at the hero.

“Hey R-kun, Three-kun!” The hero pouts, hugging Yuu closer to his chest. “I come a~ll this way to play, only to find you’ve got a nyew toy you’re already playing with without me! How mean! You guys really are cruel!!”

“We’re sorry about that.” Three of Clovers says, edging closer. “If you just hand the reporter over to Four, they’ll be put away and we can all “play” together, no distractions. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

The hero makes a deliberating noise, holding Yuu out and away from him over the drop, tilting his head this way and that.

His grin grows unsettlingly wider.

“Look, R-kun, Three-kun!” The hero calls out. “Nyo hands!”

Wait, what—

The hero’s body vanishes.

Yuu and the monster cat plummet screaming past the illogically winding staircases of the evil lair.

Yuu tries to angle their body so that the frantically crying cat will be shielded from the brunt of the fall—!

“NO!!”

There’s a sound like glass shattering, and a feeling of being enveloped in something soft, cold and buoyant. The two of them bounce a few times and land back on it more gently each time.

Yuu cracks open their eyes to see that they’re seated on a strange, red, jelly-like mass. The cat in their arms tentatively sniffs, and then lunges to take a bite out of their cushion before the reporter can stop him.

“Shtrawberry?” He says through a full mouth. “Tashtes good!”

The reporter grabs him before he can go for another bite, a little thrown by his speed now that collar isn’t weighing him down. But where did this thing come from–?

Yuu looks up.

Royal Flush is leaning dangerously far over the balcony countless flights of stairs above them, one arm outstretched down towards them.

They stare at each other for a moment.

Then clawed hands fasten around Yuu’s waist again with a cheery “Nyow wasn’t that fun?” and Royal Flush visibly tenses and begins screaming things after the escaping hero that are barely legible through his rage.

The hero deposits them both outside the TWST news station with their wallet and phone back in their pockets. He at least helps them untie the monster cat, who promptly declares he just let them protect him, and scarpers.

Of course the hero is gone too when Yuu turns back around, before they can ask him what the hell he was playing at, dropping them like that, was he insane?! If Royal Flush hadn’t interfered...

The reporter has to fight the urge to lose their lunch.

Their boss rushes out and envelopes them in a surprisingly powerful hug, the woman almost lifting the reporter off their feet as she babbles about whether or not Yuu needs a hospital after getting kidnapped by one of the seven major supervillains.

Yuuken is quick to join the embrace with a bear hug of his own. He pulls back, fingers prodding gently at Yuu’s bruised temple and declaring he’ll drive them to hospital to make sure they don’t have a concussion.

He graciously waits until they’re in the car to ask why Yuu smells so much of strawberries.

The reporter can only give a half answer, partly because they don’t want to worry him, and partly because they have another question of their own buzzing incessantly around their brain.

Why was Yuu kidnapped in the first place?

Royal Flush never even mentioned Crowley, despite all the chances he had to do so. Not even an oblique or confusing metaphor or code. Does that mean he’s ignorant of the connection between Yuu and the League?

But if that’s the case, it circles back around to the first question: why kidnap Yuu to begin with?

Somehow the reporter doubts it was to just ask their tea preferences or invite them to dinner.

Those minions referred to that monster as Royal Flush’s “precious ingredient”. Ingredient for what? Is there something that Royal Flush thinks they witnessed that’s integral to a scheme? Did they witness something and just not realize it’s significance?

Yuu’s reporter senses are screaming that there’s a deeper story to uncover here. Yuu’s common sense is screaming that investigating the dangerous plans of the supervillain they’ve just escaped from is a terrible idea.

Though he could have just...let them fall. But he didn’t. And won’t he just kidnap them again regardless?

...

This is a terrible idea.

But if Yuu’s common sense was stronger than their reporter senses, then they wouldn’t be in this city in the first place, would they?

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boxboysandotherwhump · 3 years

Text

Dog fight! Dee vs B (part 1)

Oki so me and the wonderful @what-a-whump had our two baby’s B and Dee meet each other at the dog-fights. Thank you so so much for proposing this idea, it was so much fun to write this with you <3

I love our boys together. :3

B and Scott are her baby's and Dee and Sam mine :3

taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @thefancydoughnut @outofangband

CW: boxboy universe; institutionalized slavery; illegal fighting rings; brief mention of heavy injuries; pet whump

B is dragged up cold metal stairs by multiple handlers. They hold him at a safe distance by catchpoles, thick cords wind around his neck and press into his throat. He bares his teeth at them, bristling with fury as they force him into the kennel blocks

They’d taken his collar and replaced it with a flimsy strip of plastic with a numbered tag attached to it.

“Put it next to the other one.” The order is snapped, a sharp jab of a baton in his spine to keep him moving. He wants his bonded back. He wants Scott. His owner promised he wouldn’t separate them.

Liar, liar, LIAR!

B snarls and lunges at the nearest handler, snapping titanium canines at the air.

“Stupid fucking dog! Get in there!” It takes all of them to shove him into the small kennel run, his feet hitting smooth cold concrete as he stumbles into it. The catch poles are yanked off him. He whirls around to attack and the chain link gate slams in his face.

He roars with frustration, kicking the gate.

“Bring him back!” He growls, pacing back and forth.

Dee pauses mid stretch, watching the newcomer lunge at the gate in a blind fury. That guy will be spent before his fight even begins if he keeps raging like that.

The chain fence’s sharp rattle grates at Dee’s already fraying nerves. Abandoning his warm up, he stands to his full height, all 2 meter 18 of heavy bones and hard muscle.

“First time?” he rumbles, keeping his voice low, almost soft. “Your master will get you after the fight. No need to panic.”

B startles at the voice, jerking his head in its direction. Another guard dog like him. He narrows his eyes, uttering a warning rumble from the back of his throat.

“Who… who are you? I don’t want this… I was being good!”

A wistful sigh escapes Dee’s lips. “It’s not about that here. You fight. You win. Or- “ He pauses, unwilling to think about the consequences of his failure. Of the punishment his bonded would have to endure for his shortcoming. Dee shakes his head, knocking the thought loose. “Just make sure to win. It’s what I’m gonna do.”

B reaches up to push his fingers through the chain link and looks inquiringly at the other guard dog.

“You’ve been here before…” He murmurs. “I… I just want to get my… my bonded back.” He presses his head against the fence. He couldn’t be away from Scott for so long. He needed him close.

“How do I win?”

“Is your bonded gonna watch? Mine is. Master makes him every time. Has him patch me back up, after.” Dee turned to the other man, catching wild frightened eyes with his. “If you're down there, you have to forget that he’s close. Forget all the things you don’t want him to see. Don’t want to be. Just fight. It’s the only thing that counts.”

After a moment's hesitation Dee grabs his shirt hem and pulls it up, revealing a long twisted scar roping up his torso. Countless scars wind their ways through his skin, twisting him into a grotesque caricature of the man he once was. He still feels shy about every single one of them. Even after all this time, they’ve never stopped aching. “Got pushed against a broken fence my first time. Down there is no place for hesitation. Or mercy.”

B blinks, horrified at the sight. He had defended his master, he had been loyal to him and he had protected Scott, just like he wanted. So why had he put him here?

He didn’t want Scott to see him like this.

“I don’t know…” He murmurs, restless panicked energy burning through him. He pushes off the fence and starts to pace up and down again.

“Gotta fight… and win… Then I can see Scott again…” He looks up at the other guard dog.

“You… said you have a bonded too?”

“Yeah.” Dee’s voice grows soft, warmth tinging his vowels and shining from behind his mismatched eyes. A spider spins its delicate web between the fence links and Dee's eyes linger without truly seeing her. Not really. Not when all he can think about is his bonded. His sparkling green eyes, only ever truly tender when looking at him, wild blond locks shining under the warm sun, the dimples appearing on soft round cheeks whenever he smiles. It was Dee’s sole purpose to protect that smile. “His name’s Sam.”

Dee’s eyes flit back to B. “What’s your bonded’s name?”

B watches the faraway look in the other guard dog’s eyes. He could almost smile, knowing that feeling. He thought the world of Scott too.

“He’s… well the master calls him Pet… But… But his name is Scott.” B’s voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s his true name, I keep it safe for him.”

Breath halting Dee steps closer to the fence, lifting his hand to touch it but thinking better of it at the last moment, he had seen other guard dogs maim one another before the official fights had even begun. His voice drops into a whisper: “What do you mean? Like, his name from... from before?”

The thought is dizzying and Dee takes another step forward. Drawn in by the irresistible pull of the longing for his own name, his past, his truth. Dee’s whole attention zeroed in on B. “He can remember? How?”

B pauses for a moment, wondering whether he had said too much. He should be more careful… Guard Scott’s name like the treasure it was.

“We… he knows my name too. We remembered our names together during training… We know…” He leans closer to the fence, eying the other one. He had never met another guard dog like him before.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

A gentle smile splits Dee’s lips. He shakes his head. “I won’t. You have my word.”

The smile widens into a conspiratory grin. “Nothing compared to remembering, but my bonded gave me a name. Said I needed a proper one. Other than dog.”

He grimaces as the memories of training flood in. Cold white cells and never ending beatings. Shaking that thought off too, he sticks his hand out in imitation of a greeting while keeping the distance of safety between them. “I’m Dean. Or Dee, for short. And you?”

“Dean.” B repeats, his lips twitching into a smile and warmth rising up through his chest. In the low light of the kennels, he watches Dee extend a hand. He imitates them, holding a hand out too but noting the distance between them.

“I like your name… My owner calls me B… I can’t say my real name or my head will hurt.” He says, wincing at the thought of it. “They found us out during training… tried to make us forget. We only forgot our names, not the other’s.”

Dee winces in sympathy but his eye lights up with pride at B’s praise. Sam had picked a wonderful name, he already knows that but hearing it from somebody else sends a warm flutter through his chest. He wonders if Scott was just as precious to B as Sam was to him.

“Like holding the heart of the other.” Dee murmurs. “Take good care of that.”

The crunch of heavy footsteps over concrete cuts B off just as he opens his mouth to reply. Both guard dogs whirl around, eyes fixed on the handlers entering the kennel room. Dee’s eyes snap to the empty catchpoles in their hands. They didn’t come to bring another guard dog in, but to take one of them away.

“230.” One handler barks. “Time to get you ready. Now let’s do this nice and easy, hands behind your back and head down.”

B immediately falls into a defensive posture, bristling and growling at the sight of those damn catchpoles.

The other handler snorts, drawing their baton to slam against B’s kennel. The guard dog lunges forward, slamming against the gate.

“Hey! No baiting the dogs, Marcus!”

“Whatever.”

Dee moves into position without complaint. It was easier to just obey, get this over with and save his energy for the upcoming fight.

Hinges screeching softly, his kennel opens. The handlers storm in and the catchpole's snare draws tight around his neck a second later.

Glancing down at B, Dee wheezes out: “Good luck.”

B utters a low whine, clutching the chain link and shaking it furiously. But it’s useless, they’ve left him alone.

He resumes his restless pacing, up and down the fence line. 5 tiles up, 5 tiles down. Just as he used to during his training. In the cold white room where all he had was Scott.

Voices travel up from the stairwell and B immediately turns to face them, fists raised and posed with the weight through the balls of his feet.

The handlers size him up.

“Get on your knees, hands behind your back like a good dog.”

B doesn’t move, the sound of his snarls reverberating around the walls. He holds his fists up higher. He’s not going without a fight.

“The hard way, then.”

#whump #pet whump #boxboy whump #box boy whump #forced to fight #whumpees forced to fight #boxboys #box boys #boxboy universe #bbu #wru #guard dog #guard dog boxboy #b the guard dog #guard dog dee #dee #pet whumpee #guard dog fights

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xlovelyyoongix · 3 years

Text

playing the part | myg

summary: On set, Yoongi was your enemy but off set, he was your secret lover. 18+

prompt: y/n is the star of an action movie and Yoongi is her enemy. While they hate each other in the movie, they genuinely like spending time with each other in real life.

genre: action, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: violence, guns, fist fighting, near-death experience, swearing, unprotected sex (please be safe yall) female receiving, stimulation while being penetrated, creampie, aftercare, and feelings that can’t be said out loud.

w/c: 4k

Rating: 18+

a/n: I was initially going to post this at the very beginning of the year, but I ended up getting sick and testing positive for covid-19. (please don’t worry about me. I’m feeling much better now 😊) But a few of my followers have been asking about me since I haven’t posted in a while, so I figured I’d give everyone a quick update. I’m glad to be back and happy to be working on all of my WIPs I have planned for the month. Please everyone, social distance, wear your masks, and stay safe. Happy reading 💕

"I'm done playing games with you." Your furious words bouncing off the walls of the abandoned warehouse as the weight of your pistol points directly at the male standing in front of you. "Hand over the money, or I'll put a hole in your head," Your finger seconds away from the trigger.

Yoongi chuckles, a cocky smirk stretching across his lips. "You won't shoot me-"

BANG

Before Yoongi ever had the chance of completing his sentence, the melody of your warning shot echoes, causing a vibration of whitenoise to jolt the walls of your inner eardrums. Missing on purpose, the bullet still managed to graze Yoongi’s skin, a thin line of blood trickling down his cheek.

Yoongi snickers at your attempt to frighten him while wiping away the blood that stained his flesh. "Why waste a bullet when you could have easily taken my life?" His words oozing arrogance as his body strutted forward, emptying the gap between the two of you. "Is it because you don't have the strength to kill the man you love?" He taunts wickely, onyx eyes peering into yours.

With Yoongi being this close in proximity, the muscles in your body begin to tense, jaw clenching tightly as your sweaty hands gripped the handle of your gun. "Shut up!" You shout, not allowing him to use your emotions against you.

Yoongi observes your hesitant behavior, licking his bottom lip enticingly. "How about I make it easier, so you don't miss next time, hm." He sarcastically hums, gripping the barrel of your gun to position the weapon against the flat of his forehead. "I've done the hard part; now, all you have to do is shoot, baby girl." He mocks with the pet name he once called you.

It was at this intense moment, you begin to regret it all. Accepting a job that required your feminine charm to seduce a drug lord that just so happened to owe your client an uber amount of money. You've done it before, sleeping with the enemy only to assassinate them by morning, so why was Yoongi so different? Why was this so hard?

Was it the luxurious dates? His charming smile? Unworldly sex? You don't really remember, only knowing that somewhere along that line, loving him was no longer pretend. "I said, Shut up!" You shake your head in hopes of ridding your brain of all the useless memories that only made your job harder.

"FUCKIN' DO IT!" Yoongi shouts through clenched teeth as his grip around the barrow of your gun tightens.

Flinching with your eyes shut, your finger pulls the trigger, producing another loud bang that causes your wrist to jerk from the power of the gun. Your heart drops at the sound, and you're afraid to open your eyes, knowing the second you do, your vision will be met with your lover in a pool of his own blood.

"Fuck, you were actually gonna kill me that time, huh?"

The sound of Yoongi’s voice causes your lashes to jolt open, shocked that the man was still alive and well, standing before you. It was then you notice your weapon carrying, hand being pinned above your head. The swift bastard must have trapped you in the second before you pulled the trigger. "I have a job to do, and I won't let feelings get in the way of my mission." You announce proudly, but more so to convince yourself than anything else.

Yoongi clicks his tongue at your response. "Is that so?" Taking advantage of your pinned position, he stares your body down with an almost hungry eye. Your smooth skin glistening with sweat, large eyes that seemed to out shine the moon, delectable lips slightly parted to breathe, and a leather body suit that hugged every heavenly curve; curves he was once oh so familiar with. But, it was also in that moment Yoongi realized, despite the lustful infatuation that pulled him towards you, he'd be damned if he let anyone take his life. "I'll just have to kill you first then."

Before you could react to Yoongi's threat, his stealthy foot sweeps from under you, knocking you off your balance. Your body collides into the ground, gun sliding across the cold concrete. "Shit!" You eye down the weapon, collecting your balance once again to dart towards the object but Yoongi's headstart nearly beats you to it.

He takes the chance to reach down to grab the pistol -possibly to use it to end your life- but your survival instincts emerge, causing your body to fling forward, tackling Yoongi like a linebacker on a football field. "Son of a..." He sneers at the weight of your body straddling his waist, fist flying forward to attack his face. Blocking your attacks, Yoongi grows frustrated with how long the altercation has lasted. "Okay, baby girl, this ends now." Grunting, Yoongi uses his upper body strength to flip you, landing on your back as his heavy body pins you in.

For a short moment, Yoongi takes the time to admire your beauty. Messy hair splattered around your glistening face, chest heaving in attempt to collect your breath and cheeks an exhausted pink. "You're so fuckin beautiful..." But as soon as the soft words left his lips, a hand reached behind his back, removing a silver gun from it’s holster. “Which is why it pains me to do this.” Cocking the weapon, Yoongi presses the hold metal to your temple. "But before you go, say one last thing for me."

You struggled with all your might to wiggle yourself from under Yoongi, but his masculine weight bore you to struggle. You also attempted to reach for your gun, only half an inch away, but it was to no avail. "What?" You question back with a sneer, but not because you actually care -or maybe you do- but more so to buy you some time before your death.

Yoongi snickers, leaning in to ghost his devilish smirk over your swollen lips. "Tell me, it wasn't all fake." His jet eyes begin to soften as the pad of his thumb caresses your cheek. "Tell me, you love me."

Your heart skips a beat but not because of the adrenaline spiking through your veins, but because even after everything, the fights, the betrayal, his heavy gun pressed to your temple, you still loved him. In an ordinary world, you'd be considered a psychopath for falling for a drug lord, but you didn't live in the real world. You were a hitman, and with your busy schedule and the blood of your enemies permanently staining your psyche, there was no room for traditional romance. You convince yourself that was the reason for your undeniable infatuation towards the blonde-haired male, just a girl yearning to finally feel the warmth of love. "Go fuck yourself." It pains you to say it, but in the end, you'd rather die with pride than with the taste of affection on your tongue.

Yoongi winces at your aggressive words towards him. Despite his rugged exterior, he was capable of feelings, and he did love you. He loved you more than any woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Being in this predicament indeed penetrated his heart so deep, he doubted he'd ever recover. "That's a shame." Regaining his stern demeanor, Yoongi clenches his jaw and positions his index above the trigger. "Goodbye, baby girl." A second away from ending your life, the two of you are interrupted by a loud shout.

"CUT!" The director whistles the alarm, and the once dark warehouse illuminates with bright fluorescent lights, bringing the scene to a complete stop. "That's a wrap for tonight, folks," he calls from behind a row of cameramen. "I want everyone back on set first thing in the morning. We'll be finishing up the final scene of the movie tomorrow" The stage and camera crew breaking out in applause at the work that was completed.

With the scene finally over, Yoongi pulls himself from on top of you, kindly extending his arm to assist you up with an eyeing smirk.

"You're fuckin heavy, you know that?" You harshly joke, taking his hand to accept the offer to help you up.

"That's funny," Yoongi's voice dripped with seduction, using his strength to whisk your body into his chest. His soft lips ghosting over the shell of your ear to whisper, "You weren't complaining about my weight last night-."

"Shhh!" Your hand cups over Yoongi's mouth, shushing him before anyone could witness his handsy flirtation. "You know better than to act like this on set." You arch your brow, matter-a-factly.

Yoongi parts his lips to respond but was interrupted by his makeup team stepping on set. "Mr. Min, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go." Politely placing her hand on Yoongi's back, she guides him along before he could get a chance to say good-bye.

A slight giggle escapes past your lips as you watch Yoongi being dragged offset by his team. Your eyes begin to feel heavy for the need of rest, and your throat produces a yawn. Exhausted, you head towards the direction of your makeup team, ready to escape to the confines of your trailer for the night.

1:30 in the morning is when you're finally able to leave set and head back to your trailer for the night. Stepping out of the shower and into your silk robe, you examine your body in the fogged mirror, muscles sore from stunts -you swore to your director you didn't need a double for- and bags under your eyes being the evidence of long working hours. You couldn't complain though you loved your job, the excitement, the thrill, everything that came with being an actress, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

A small knock at your trailer door interrupts your thoughts, wondering who it could be at an hour like this. Possibly the director wanting to go over tomorrow's scene? Curious, you peek through the blinds, but not surprised by who you see. A smile slips across your cheeks as you open the door, revealing a handsome blond-haired male standing before you. "I think you're lost." You playfully tease, pointing to the row of luxury trailers in the distance. "Your lodging is that way."

Yoongi smirks at your sarcastic facade, playing along to entertain your ploy. "No,." He quickly replies, walking up the steps to your trailer until standing directly under you. "I think I'm in the right place." His large hands slip across the silk of your robe, finding their favorite spot on your hips while seductive eyes peak at the curves of your cleavage.

"Is that so?" You question, arching a tempting brow, "So, what is an A-list Actor doing at my trailer so late into the night?" Your fingers trickle to the nape of Yoongi's neck, dancing circles across his ivory skin.

"Well." Yoongi's nose slowly dips across the curve of your neck, getting a tasteful whiff of your natural scent before his pink lips ghost over the shell of your ear. "I came to fuck my co-star."

Yoongi's daring confession causes a vibrating tingle to spike throughout your body, increasing the lustful heat growing between your thighs. Surrendering to the fervor your body craved, your plush lips crash into his, with tongues beginning to dance together in harmony. Lost in the passion, your hand locates Yoongi's collar, pulling him into your trailer, and with a swift kick, he closes the door behind him.

The actor wastes no time shoving you against the counter of your tiny kitchen, large hands fiddling with the lace of your robe. Your silk falls around you, pooling to the floor, unveiling the flawless secrets of your womanly beauty. "Fuck." Yoongi nearly growls at the sight of smooth skin, supple breasts, and voluptuous curves. "I've been waiting for this all day." He could barely finish his sentence before his hungry lips were attacking your neck, teeth nibbling and sucking the flesh while wandering hands located your nipple to tease.

"Y-Yoongi." You whimper from his touch, body arching off the counter to welcome his ardors actions. "R-remember not to bruise me, okay." If it were up to you, you wouldn't complain about the trademark evidence Yoongi liked to leave throughout your body, but things spread fast in the media. You couldn't risk a 'dating scandal'; in the middle of shooting a major motion picture movie, the press would eat you alive.

"Shit, forgot, sorry." He mutters an apology, loosening his hold on your breast and trailing succulent kisses down your abdomen. "Guess I'll just have to leave hickies where people can't see them." A flash of greedy lust shimmers in Yoongi's eyes the moment he hoists your thigh over his shoulder. His mouth nearly watering at the glorious sight before him. "So fuckin' wet for me already." Teeth sink into his bottom lip enticingly, witnessing your glistening arousal coating over your heated sex. "Makes me wanna taste it." Yoongi's crafty tongue darts out, sliding between wet folds until lapping across a sensitive bundle of nerves that causes your body to weaken.

"Fuck, Yoon...," You could barely finish your sentence as Yoongi's ambush on your needy clit caused you to fall mute. Your hand gripping onto the actor's shoulder, rolling your hips into his mouth to ride out your delectable pleasure. "M-more,"

Knowing precisely what you desired, Yoongi slowly inserts two digits deep into your soaking walls. The second he hears your breathy moan, his fingers curl at just the right angle, locating the spongy surface responsible for your g-spot. "Mhmm," You're a wiggling mess, so Yoongi uses his free hand to hold your hips in place while his mouth sucks up your clitoris once again.

"Shit~." The delicious stretch of his fingers and stimulation on your nub causes the muscles within your abdomen to tighten. With your body preparing for an orgasm, your fingers move on their own to lock in Yoongi's thick hair, guiding him to where you need most. "B-baby, c-close." Words frantically falling from your trembling lips.

Taking note of your approaching release, Yoongi stiffens his tongue, lapping figure 8s around your pink nub to send your body into overdrive. His thick fingers thrusting into your walls, producing creamy arousal that dripped onto his knuckles. Yoongi absolutely loved watching you like this, legs wobbling like jello, skin glistening with sweat, pretty lips moaning his name. He took pride in witnessing you being a fucked-out mess. His own personal, fucked-out mess. "Cum, baby."

As if on demand by Yoongi's words, the tightness within your abdomen bursts, body tensing as the magic of euphoria courses through your veins. "Y-Yoon-, fuck~" Lashes slamming shut as an assortment of circling colors rupture behind your eyelids. Your body rides out it's sinful high only for your body to fall limp moments after.

The evidence of your orgasm drips between your thighs as Yoongi carefully removes his digits from inside you. Standing to his feet, his tongue licks the last of your arousal that lingered on his fingers, always making sure your lovely juice never went to waste. "Fuckin delicious." He smirks devilishly, hungry eyes peering down at your exhausted state.

You can barely catch your breath as your hazed vision attempts to focus on the handsome man before you. His thick brow wickedly arched, jet eyes glowing with ungodly lust as the corner of his lips curls smugly. An expression that only meant Yoongi wanted more. "Ready for my dick now, babygirl?" He's quick to make haste of his shirt, tossing it someplace behind him and stepping out of the thick material of his jeans.

You gulp anxiously at Yoongi's erotic words, curious eyes trailing down the curves of his abdomen in awe as if you haven't seen his immaculate body 100 times before. "Mhm." You reply with a hum, teeth sinking into your lip while impatiently waiting for the reveal of his sturdy dick.

Yoongi chuckles at your minimalistic response, dropping his boxers to unveil the erect curve of his fat length. Stroking up the base of his impressive dick, leaning into your ear to whisper, "You know I need to hear you say it." His warm breath causes an array of goosebumps to accumulate across your skin, a delightful shiver slithering up your spine. "Tell me what you want."

Having moved between your legs, Yoongi's mushroom tip begins to tease against your folds. "I-I," Your lashes flutter as the heat of desire begins to spiral within you, as if you hadn't already experienced a powerful orgasm a few moments prior. "I want you to..." You mew, Yoongi positioned his tip at the soaking hole of your entrance, knocking you from your train of thought.

He grins smugly at your expression, always taking delight to taunting your body. "Tell me what you want me to do, or I'll stop-"

Knowing better than to keep Yoongi waiting, you nearly shout. "I want you to fuck me, Yoongi!" You sound needy, but that's beyond your worries. Your body wanted him, your aching pussy craving him, and if you had to play the part to get what you wanted, so be it.

Not giving you a second to breathe, Yoongi's fat tip thrusts into your wet core. "Fuck~" You both curse in unison, you because of the delectable stretch that made your pussy full and Yoongi due to your drenched walls tightening around his girth.

"Mhm, Yoons~." You whimper at the sting of his stretched entrance, but you absolutely love the feeling. How his dick fits perfectly snug within your walls, the throbbing of protruding veins and his oozing tip teasing at your moist cervix. You often fantasized about staying in this position forever. Having Yoongi live, deep inside you as time passed the both of you by; then again, you're also dying for him to bang your brains out. "Baby, please." You plead for him to start moving inside you.

With your tight pussy finally adjusted to his size, Yoongi's large hand's grip at your hips, beginning an easy pace in and out of your core. "Shit~" His teeth clench, hissing at the heavenly sensation of your narrow walls sucking at his length. "You're so wet and warm. Always taking my dick so well."

Your lashes begin to flutter at the sensation of Yoongi's fat tip massaging at the area of your g-spot. "All for you~." You purr, scooting as close to the edge of the counter as possible, craving for his inches to reach further inside you. "Please," With brows furrowed together beggingly, eyes screaming for him to go faster.

Observing your desperate expression, Yoongi knew it was time for him to pick up the pace. He grips at your thighs, placing your legs around his waist while positioning his hips at the angle that could explore deeper into your slit. "Ah, shhhhhit." He hissed at the pleasure, hips beginning to snap in and out of your sopping core at an autopilot speed.

Your nails pierce into the flesh of Yoongi's shoulders, holding on as he pounded into you. With your neck lulled back, your head knocks into the shelf with every swift jap he punctures in, but you don't care. Your skin is on fire, and your pretty pussy, utterly addicted to the pleasurable attack. "Feels good," You hum, eyes locking down on the pornographic scene of your creamy slick lubing Yoongi's shaft as his dick pleasantly stretches in and out of your entrance. "Wanna cum all over your pretty dick, Yoon." You plee, lips in the form of a pout.

Your whimpering need causes a carnal temptation to spike within the actor, producing the adrenaline he needed to please your every desire. "So cum, baby." His veiny hand slipping between your thighs, swiping across your clit while pounding into you.

"Oh, god," You moan—the attack on your sensitive nub precisely what you need to feel the pressure building within your core. "Fuck, baby," Your legs gripping tighter around his waist, encouraging him to keep up the speed that slammed into your cervix.

"So fuckin' wet." A throaty moan escapes Yoongi's lips, your walls sucking tightly around his girth as he fucked into you deeper. He could feel the familiar ball of tension tightening within his core, dick becoming increasingly sensitive upon the approach of his release." y/n," breath staggering in his throat as he grunts your name. "Fuck~, gonna cum soon." Glistening sweat pearling across his creamy skin, with jet eyes glossed with desire.

Your hips rock forward, matching the devilish speeds of Yoongi's thrusts as your eyes lock on him. The ends of his blonde hair paste to his steamy skin, lips, pink and swollen, and dumpling cheeks a rosy fluster. The expression in his glass orbs screamed that he was close. "Me too," you moan with arching feet and toes beginning to curl. "Cum inside,"

"Shiiiiiit," Despret to oblige your request, Yoongi continues his powerful ruts, the erotic sounds of your wet pussy guiding him. He could feel the muscles throughout his body starting to flex along with the anticipating tingle of his ballsack, begging to release its load. "B-baby I,..." His thrust becomes sloppy, and the tight grip he has on your hips causes his knuckles to whitein. He would explode any second.

Even with his body tense, Yoongi doesn't let up the massage on your clit. Only speeding his swift swipes on your throbbing nub, sending spikes of electricity zapping throughout your body. "Y-y-y-Yoon...., g-gonna~," and just like that, an euphoric explosion happens within your core, blasting you into ecstasy. "FUCK!" Your back arches, your head lulls back, and the muscles within your wet walls clench around Yoongi's dick, sucking him in for dear life.

"___, g-gonna..." With one final thrust, Yoongi's pulsing dick shoots warm coats of cum into your core. His throat releases a horse grunt, eyes rolling back, and breath getting caught in his throat ."Hmm," He hums at the peaceful feeling, the pent up stress of a long workday finally vacating his body. "Fuck, you're pussy's so good." He chuckles, eyes fluttering open to witness your sweaty body stretched out across the counter, swollen pussy leaking his creamy cum.

Your exhausted body doesn't stop a smirk from slipping across your flustered cheeks. "You're dick's so good." responding to Yoongi's complement, chest heaving for air.

A gummy grin pulls across Yoongi's lips in observance of you. Your messy hair pooled around your face, skin lushly glossed, and large dewy eyes that expressed your body's satisfaction. You meant the absolute world to Yoongi, and being with you on and off set was the best year of his life. Getting to watch you grow as an actress and putting your best foot forward every day. You were Yoongi's muse, his love. "I'll clean you up." He runs a paper napkin under the warm fouset, placing the dampness across all the places between your thighs he left a mess.

You watch Yoongi in awe with your heart fluttering in your chest. It was clear the growing spark between the two of you was more than just sexual tension. You saw the way he'd sneak cute glances at you on set, how he'd be the first one to make sure you were alright after an intense stunt. You want to confess that you love him, that he meant more to you than just a person to fuck. But, the time wasn't right. The two of you still had a job that needed to be done. "Hey." Your small voice, grabbing Yoongi's attention. Instead of saying, I love you, you say, "Good luck on set tomorrow."

However, Yoongi finds the truth in your soft eyes, making it clear you held the exact same feelings that he harbored to himself for the past year. "Yeah," There wasn't a need for him to say much; he knows that you know the truth of his heart. "Good luck to you too."

date posted: 1/8/2021

#min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi imagine #bts smut #Min Yoongi one shot #bts one shot #bts imagine #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #bts fanfiction

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revenant-dumpster-fire · 2 years

Text

Leaks (Revenant x Reader)

[Click here to go to this chapter on AO3]

Theme: Some interesting data comes in from a hospital on the same night as a horrifying massacre. The information holds no bearing to the case that can be connected for certain, but perhaps it's valuable to someone.

Warnings: Pain, bodily trauma, body horror, medical trauma, sharp objects, blood, graphic descriptions of gore, political corruption, lots of cussing.

Reader's Notes: Lore expansion for my main Revenant (Apex Legends) fanfiction (Leaves One Cold), this should be read after the first book (Just a Volunteer). No fluff here. Treat it as world-building and a character piece, for those who enjoy the main storyline and want more context on things to come.

Writing Notes: Life be rough, man.

Navigation:

First File | Previous File | Next File

"Just A Volunteer" (Book 1) | "The Lost Files" (Book 1.5)

---------

"What the actual fuck am I looking at?" Detective Michael asks, looking at pictures of gore beyond human comprehension. There's a beheading, multiple impalings, buckets of blood on the floor, and corpses littering the floor of a basement.

"We aren't sure, but it was definitely a drug den with connections to human trafficking. Multiple bodies, one set of DNA from the scene is unaccounted for but presumed dead. We couldn't find any evidence of who or what might have caused this." Officer Archie sheepishly answers, having just returned from a scene that left his spine numb.

"Great, less work for us. Clearly a bunch of scumbags got what was coming to them." Michael pauses, meeting eyes with Archie, who looks like he may have bad news. "Don't tell me we actually have to investigate who did this." He sighs, throwing the pictures down onto his desk.

"Yeah, captain said so. We can't really let this kind of stuff go without investigation. The city is in enough chaos already." Archie tries to reason with Michael, who is already writhing with his face in his hands.

"God damn it, who fucking cares?! We should be using this as an opportunity to scope out any other trafficking nodes that might try to get revenge. Maybe we can actually save some people for once. Instead, we're supposed to try to find the hero that killed these motherfuckers?!" Michael is enraged. He's been jaded for years, constantly blocked from doing things to actually help the city. He's watched for years as inaction has allowed his city to rot, and he's never gotten the required promotions to make any difference at all.

"Justice is blind, sir." Archie sighs, knowing he's in for a rant.

"Fuck that! These guys did nothing but make this city worse! We should be celebrating their deaths! Hell, we should have been the ones responsible! Instead, these fucking bastards get caught, get a mere few years for selling human beings like actual fucking cattle, then go right back to it! Do you know how many bodies of innocent people I've seen? Used up, cut up, sold for parts? How many slaves never recover mentally from the trauma of years of being nothing but property? Fuck, Archie, how the hell am I supposed to feel?!" Michael is up from his desk and now pacing the room, his face red with wrath and frustration. "Justice is blind, and it's absolutely useless that way. Justice needs its damn eyesight so we're not wasting what little budget and resources we have. So, what, now we're gonna defend the bad guys? All because of some moral paradigm that hasn't meant jack shit for hundreds of years?! Fuck!" He throws the pictures at Archie, who doesn't even flinch.

Michael sits back down, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a full bottle of aged bourbon. He pops the cork and begins drinking it directly, not even bothering to pour it into a glass first. He chugs far more than what is reasonable before slamming the bottle down on his desk, taking a few deep breaths, and flexing his fist a few times. Finally, he collects himself.

This is typical for Michael, and Archie knows it well. When Michael was an officer, Archie was his partner in training. After Michael's promotion to detective, Archie made a point to be the one to exclusively break bad news to him, knowing his impassioned rants might throw off the new officers that have entered the force since. Many officers have quit, citing the same frustrations Michael vents almost daily, so the turnover for the police force is high. Archie and Michael stick around, both hoping that someday they'll make it high enough to finally fix the hellscape that is their hometown.

Michael sighs openly, finally clearing his head.

"I'm sorry, Archie. You didn't deserve that. You know this as much as I do." Michael speaks softly before taking another swig of alcohol.

"It's fine. We're in this together, but we have to actually listen to the captain if we ever want that title--or higher ones--for ourselves." Archie responds, picking up the pictures off the floor and organizing them on the desk again. "In this case, we have a small break, actually. There's a woman in the Central Hospital with a kit that came in and pictures of bite marks. The dentals match one of the bodies from the massacre, and even though there was no foreign DNA in her kit, her own DNA matches the unknown from the scene."

Michael sighs loudly.

"She's fucking dead or dying, isn't she? They always kill them before we can get them out of there. They take no hostages, ever." Michael hides in the bottle again, expecting the worst.

"Comatose, but alive."

"So dying then. How many times did they shoot her? Or did they stab her? God forbid, they didn't try to do that one thing they do sometimes, right? I fucking can't stand these motherfuckers..." Michael trails off, bags forming under his eyes from the thought of all the bodies he's seen in his career.

"Shot, multiple times."

Michael slams his fist onto the desk, regaining his composure immediately after seeing Archie jump a little.

"Sorry Archie. This shit just drives me up a wall. What are the chances we'll get to ask her anything?" Michael asks more calmly.

"Unlikely. The hospital staff doesn't have any name for her, and her DNA isn't in any database anywhere. She seems to have no legal identification whatsoever. We've got a picture of her, some bite marks, and her DNA profile. Nothing more. The guy who brought her in doesn't seem to know anything either, or simply hasn't talked to hospital staff about it." Archie shows Michael the pictures of the bite marks and her unconscious body. He also puts down a print out of the kit results, as well as confirmation of her DNA registration to their database.

"What about this mysterious guy then? How did he find her? Did he say anything to us?" Michael asks, hoping for something worthwhile there.

"Well... he's a simulacrum."

"Fuck, you've got to be kidding me! So we can't even ask this guy jack without getting clearance from the Syndicate, since inevitably he's probably some veteran with military secrets." Michael throws his head back and buries his face in his palms, utterly frustrated by the entire situation. "Is there any chance in hell this sim can tell us anything?"

Archie lets out a shallow sigh through his nose.

"We reached out, sent an officer over, but he made himself scarce before the officer arrived." Archie relents.

"Yeah, that's a veteran Syndicate sim, for sure." Michael groans. "Well, then this whole angle means fuck-all. Forget it. Consider it a dead end. It's not like I want to find so-called 'justice' for these scumbags anyway." Michael hands back the pictures of the woman and her data to Archie. "If we have extra time and she even pulls through, get her an official name and identity set up. Poor thing has probably been in the trafficking system her whole damn life until some Syndicate hellhound took pity on her."

"Yes, sir. The press has caught wind of the massacre, should we give the usual response?"

"We're working on it but we need tips from the citizens to help find a break in the case. Yup, the usual." Michael sighs.

Archie gives him a small courtesy bow before turning heels and leaving Michael's office.

• • • •

It's been a few days, and the press is relentless. The mysterious massacre with no evidence of survivors or a perpetrator has thrown the entire local viewership into a frenzy. While the Apex Games aren't being aired or talked about, the massacre is. It'll eventually subside. It always does.

Archie knows Michael is avoiding the obvious possibility. What if the Syndicate simulacrum is responsible? Michael would never pursue that. It might step on the Syndicate's toes, and he has no interest in putting a vigilante hero on trial for the homicide of people he considers subhuman. Michael is riding out the media interest, then the case will go cold, and it will likely never come up again.

Archie sighs. Michael is technically doing the right thing for their long-term goals. Upsetting the Syndicate is a wonderful way to prevent either of them from ever making a difference by preventing any future promotions. At the same time, it looks bad to just throw out a perfectly viable line of inquiry. Yet at the same time, Michael isn't wrong that there are much more deserving cases to look into with genuinely innocent victims. Sure, the one woman was an innocent victim, but even Archie isn't keen on trying to protect the so-called honor of a bunch of traffickers. Technically, the person he'd be hunting would be her hero.

Archie looks at the pictures of the woman again. He might as well hand them off to storage to file away. Nothing has come from it, and nothing likely ever will.

Archie dials a number on his desk phone, sheepishly watching the coverage of the massacre being muddled further with insane theories. The phone picks up.

"Hey Greg, yeah, just some pictures to be filed away to case file number 44545. Probably nothing, but we should hang on to them just in case we come back to it later." Archie says into the phone before hanging up.

He goes back to watching the television, wishing any of the tips weren't jokes or insane ramblings--which they all are at this point. He still isn't sure where the "simulacrum riding a prowler" joke originated, but it must have been on an online message board or something. It's absolutely insane, and people keep bringing it up on the tip line. He actually considered it for a moment, and then decided to lay off all the alcohol for a while.

Greg walks up to the desk, hands in his pockets. He's not an officer, just an office worker. He tends to be rather jovial, even at the worst of times for the force.

"Got the documents?" Greg asks.

Archie hands over the pictures and papers, not saying much, but giving Greg a look that screams how tired he is. Greg nods in understanding, leaving Archie to his desk and heading towards the documents room.

As he makes the trip, Greg sneaks a peek at the pictures. Ouch. That looks pretty nasty. The pictures are a bit harrowing, but not the worst he's seen. The skin is still a bit colorful, meaning the subject isn't dead in the pictures. When the skin is deathly pale from the expected complexion, the pictures have a whole different vibe. This one feels like a victim, not a corpse. He hates to admit it, but he's become a little bit of a connoisseur of these pictures. He likes the living ones, he feels less horrid saving a copy when they're alive. He sighs to himself. He's been trying to find a different vice for months now, but vices are expensive. Thankfully, for this case he has an interested buyer in any and all information regarding the massacre. Some member of the press that intercepted him on his way home offered him ludicrous amounts of cash for each piece of evidence, and to be honest, he needs the money.

It's easy enough, and maybe he can finally afford a 'better' vice. Something like alcohol or drugs. He makes his way to the copier outside of the documents section, making copies of the pictures and documents. His presence is so common that no one in the surrounding cubicles bats an eye or even seems concerned over his use of the copier. This is all par for the course. He takes the copies and slips into the documents stacks, finding the file labelled "44545" and slipping the originals in. He hangs on to the copies, taking them back to his desk before opening an encrypted messaging app on his phone to reach out to his contact.

"Got documents. Seem uninteresting. Still want them?" He types.

"Yes." This guy is always short.

"Ok. Meet at the bar next to the post office. Just fyi these docs are kind of graphic." Greg types back.

"Fine."

This guy.

Greg stretches in his chair. This guy gives him the creeps, but the press tends to be pretty ruthless these days. He has no idea how these pictures are going to be useful for making a story, but he needs the money badly enough to not care. He rides out the rest of his day, clicking away at the computer keyboard and running documents for the officers as they request them. The day is otherwise fairly quiet and uneventful.

• • • •

Greg sits at the barstool, holding the copies of the pictures and documents in his jacket. He's drinking the cheapest beer on the menu, after all he won't be here for long and he doesn't have tons of cash to burn on alcohol. He's been here for a bit, but he's confident his contact will show up again. He always does.

Like clockwork, a cloaked figure with a wide frame sits in the barstool next to him. He pulls out an envelope and flicks it in Greg's direction. That's him, alright, and that's the payment.

"Make sure you actually want to buy these, first. I don't want to get in trouble with your boss or anything." Greg says, staring forward, pulling out his documents and handing them to his contact. The contact looks over the pictures and the report before pushing the envelope over to Greg again.

"You sure you want these? They seem so useless." Greg mutters, taking the envelope and checking inside. It's a full payment, enough that he can actually afford some niceties for once.

"I'm sure. This is a person of interest." The figure states plainly in a deep voice.

"Well, damn, good luck then, I guess?" Greg says, slipping the payment into his jacket. The figure gets up and walks away, disappearing out the door without a thought of how rude it is to not even buy a drink. Greg orders a nice martini for himself, sufficiently happy to do so now that he's significantly richer than moments before. Maybe it will make up for his contact's poor manners with the attractive bartender.

• • • •

The cloaked figure shuffles out of the bar and into the alleyway, quickly slipping away into the night. He immediately finds a building to slip into, using the flash on his phone to take pictures of the photographs and documents. He takes a moment to send the pictures to a couple contacts before whisking himself back outside and into the night.

He takes a jagged set of turns as he goes, intentionally making sure that no one can trail him without his notice. It also ensures he gets a strong sense of what the city is like tonight. He doesn't sense any commotion amongst some of the buildings where he knows some of the cookeries are set up. The dealers in the alleyways give him no problems. He cannot find any evidence of a follow-up attack from the massacre that happened a few days ago. In case anything does intercept him, the pictures are already sent. That strange simulacrum--the one the taxi driver told them about, and the one who the chef mentioned--they still have no context on him and his weird "knight armor". The taxi driver seemed convinced it's the celebrity known as the Revenant in the Apex Games. It seems like a stretch that a celebrity would target a drug den, but if he had any connection to this woman, perhaps that's it. Perhaps they accidentally stole someone he owned, and he was not kind in getting her back.

No, that's ludicrous.

The figure sighs. He wants to get home, but he has to deliver this to headquarters first. He weaves between buildings, making a quick path to an uptown high rise with luxury offices stretching all the way to the top floors. He walks up to the front door, punching in a code to dial a call to the intended floor.

A voice comes up over the intercom.

"Who is it?"

"Husk. Got the documents. Just making a quick drop off before I head back." The cloaked figure responds quietly into the microphone.

"Sure, I'm going to come down and pick them up. Stay there." The call disconnects.

Husk hates standing around. He doesn't like to be a sitting duck for any reason, especially considering what just happened a few days ago and the nature of what he's carrying on his person. He isn't exactly looking to be a target himself. He looks around with concern, but no one is out on the street near him and the world is mostly quiet here. The wind doesn't even blow this deep in the city since it's blocked by all the high rises.

Husk jumps a little as the door opens next to him, his colleague reaching out to accept the documents. Husk passes them off quickly, not interested in staying any longer than he needs to. He immediately heads back to a highrise of luxury apartments a few blocks down, hoping Rosé was fine without him. He has no interest in meddling in these affairs any more than the boss requires him to.

• • • •

Revenant's door swings open as he turns to meet the intruder, leaping to his feet expecting to fight. Instead, he's met by a short blonde woman in the doorway who bursts into tears immediately.

"Is she okay?!" Sherry cries out, still standing awkwardly like a child who's woken up from a nightmare. Revenant sighs and relaxes his stance, realizing there is no threat in her frail body to be had.

"Yes, she's okay. But she's asleep, try to keep it down, will ya?" Revenant whispers to her. "You can come in, just don't wake her and be careful. She needs lots of rest, and she did just get gutted like a fish."

Sherry shuffles in, wiping away relieved but concerned tears, grabbing the office chair and sitting next to her closest friend, now fighting back from the brink of death. She looks at the body, but her brain almost can't process what she's seeing. This has happened to her once already; how could it almost happen a second time? She doesn't want to lose anybody else, yet she is crushed by the feeling that she is helpless to prevent people from disappearing from her life.

"Kid, you okay?" Revenant finally asks Sherry. "She's alive, you know. The only reason she's allowed back here is because she's going to make it through this."

Sherry sniffs and tries to get herself pulled together for a moment before answering.

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to come busting in here. I was just worried." Sherry gets out between labored inhales and exhales. "I just didn't get a chance to be upset about things until now..."

"Yeah, don't do that again. I don't need to skewer you and have to explain to her that I killed you because you didn't think to knock." Revenant sighs for a moment before he decides to relent his stoic persona. "It's fine, just... she's going to be fine now. If she wakes up and sees you crying she's going to feel guilty, so... stop? Please?"

Sherry chuckles a little through her crying, managing to break through her tears and calm herself a bit. It's weird that Revenant is also now being nice to her too by association. Then again, both her and him seem to find a common ground in teasing her. Revenant also has a weird habit of calling Sherry the "girlfriend", which seems more affectionate than accusatory.

"Thanks for coming by and watching her when I had to get more books, and for getting that last one for me." Revenant says, kneeling beside the bed as he does a pulse check on her wrist. "You should grab the alcohol they gave us. We might as well drink, maybe it'll calm you down a bit."

"You'd want to drink with me?" Sherry asks under her breath, not expecting an answer.

"Don't let it go to your head, kid. It's just a drink." Revenant practically chuckles, standing up to get the box himself while Sherry sits, still a bit bewildered by the entire situation. "I'll get it. Watch the little one."

Sherry sits there and stares for a few moments at the body in front of her. Her initial panic is beginning to subside. Revenant is actually calm about the whole thing, and if he's calm about it, she can be too, right? She watches the chest rise and fall on a regular interval, no rattling in the chest to be heard. She's alive. She's been awake before. She'll wake up again. There are some clinks behind Sherry as Revenant's arm reaches over her, handing her a glass of pink, bubbly liquid. He kneels down beside her again, holding a glass of bubbly, golden amber liquid.

"Try that Rosé, if you don't like it you can have this one. It's sherry. Weird combination, but free is fr--"

"What?" Sherry locks eyes with the simulacrum, her disbelief changing to some kind of determination and concern. "What were the two bottles?"

Revenant stays quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what she's on about. His LEDs dart from one glass to the other before he answers, sounding as confused as he looks.

"Rosé and Sherry. Yeah, I guess it's funny, since that's your name and all."

Sherry doesn't wait to hear him finish. She gently puts the glass on the floor before bolting up and sprinting out of the room. Revenant perks up, putting his glass down as he watches her body disappear around the corner. Maybe it's predatory instinct, or maybe it's genuine concern, but he quickly makes chase. His stride and tracking knowledge helps him catch up quickly, despite her notable head start.

"Hey, kid! Where the hell are you going?!" He shouts after her, not paying attention to anyone else in the hallway, or the weird looks they both get.

"That was my sister! How the fuck did I not recognize my own sister?!" Sherry is in tears, but running as quickly as her frame will allow her towards the exit. Maybe Rosé will still be there, if she gets there fast enough.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Revenant manages to catch up, keeping stride with her.

"I knew there was something wrong! I fucking knew something seemed familiar! But I didn't listen to myself and now she might be gone!" She busts through the double doors to the outside, running down the path towards the gates.

"Stop before you get yourself shot, you moron!" Revenant grabs Sherry by her waist, lifting her entire frame off the ground and over his head as he comes to a stop. "You're not making any sense! What the hell is going on?!"

Sherry snaps to with the sudden and unexpected flight. She lets Revenant place her back down and turns to face him, a few armed guards looking on in mild alert.

"Rosé is my sister's name! She was kidnapped almost fifteen years ago. I was certain she was dead, but..." Sherry buries her face in her hands, trying to hold on to her composure. "I stopped looking for her. I gave up--but that girl with the mask--that was her. She gave me the alcohol to let me know she's still okay..."

Revenant recognizes what she's meaning now, surprised at the current situation. His LEDs flicker from her to the guards nearby, not sure what they might think of one of the volunteers apparently seeming to run away from him before being caught. At the same time, he takes some amount of pity on Sherry. She's actually helped him a number of times, and she's a good friend to his little bird. He has a vested interest in her safety now too, even if he is begrudged to admit it. If something happens to Sherry, then it's going to domino into some serious trauma for his current interest. Revenant grabs her shoulders to snap her attention to his words.

"Calm down. If she's made it on her own this long, then she clearly knows how to handle herself and will make it a bit longer. She was even smart enough to let you know she's okay in a way that won't arouse suspicion, especially if she's still in any kind of danger. She will be okay." Sherry is shocked by Revenant's apparent comfort, staring into his optics with disbelief but genuine relief. "We can go and see if she's still there, but if she is, we can't make a scene out of it, understand? We wouldn't want to put her into any more danger because we can't handle ourselves, right?"

Sherry nods, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. Revenant rights his stature and begins to lead her towards the gates again. She follows, now walking calmly. The guards seem placated, their alert relaxing as their hands come off of their weapons at their side.

"You're full of reckless abandon today, eh, kid?" Revenant shrugs as he tries to lighten her mood with some friendly teasing. "First you burst into my room and nearly get impaled, then you go running into the courtyard and nearly get shot, all on your way to potentially get killed by whoever guards that bookstore."

"Sorry..." Sherry murmurs under her breath, following close behind the giant, mechanical sass machine.

"Don't be. I get it." Revenant affirms as he flashes his ID at the gates. "You wanna walk and talk about it, or just get a ride?"

"...talk about it...?" Sherry poses it as a confused question, but Revenant accepts it as a direct answer, leading her across the street, ignoring some interested fans snapping pictures of him on their phones.

"Damn skinsuits, I would have worn something more subtle if I knew I would be going outside on a walk." He mutters to himself, grabbing Sherry's wrist to hurry her along. His stride is so much wider than hers she has to stumble a bit to keep up, at least until he's made it across the road, when he slows to match Sherry's pace.

"Your fans seem to know not to swarm you, at least." Sherry mumbles, looking back at the crowd, fawning over the pictures on their phones.

"Those probably aren't my fans, just general fans of the Games. I think most people who watch know not to approach me. Y'know, except my fans, who always approach me. It's easy to tell the difference, even from afar." He lets out an exasperated sigh, letting her decide if the more important conversation needs to happen as they make their way towards The Collector's Den.

"You can? Even if they don't make it obvious?" Sherry lets herself take a mental sabbatical from her anguish, enjoying the little bit of small talk while she calms herself.

"Yeah, my fans know just enough about me to finalize and notarize their wills before throwing themselves at me. Most of the craziest fans are the suicidal types. Never killed any one of them; don't really care to execute members of my own cult." He chuckles to himself, reminiscing on some of his past encounters. "I'm like a god to them. Throwing themselves at me is a win-win: either they get my attention for a few precious moments and get to live with that, or I skewer them and they get out of this mortal coil in the best exit they could possibly ask for."

"That's morbid." Sherry exhales in minor amusement at Revenant's adoration for his fanbase, as well as the humorous nature of his fans.

"Oh please, your girlfriend is no different." He sneers back at her. "You can see it in their eyes: there's no fear. Just reverence. It's not very often I see skinsuits look at me without the utter and abject terror of Death looming over them when they lock eyes with me."

"You like it?" Sherry asks.

Revenant thinks for a moment, humming to himself as his claw lightly rests against his chin. Is it really that tough of a question?

"I like both: depends on the person, really. I like having that much power over skinsuits that they fear me like a demon in their midst. Trust me, there's no high like a power trip." He chuckles, shrugging a bit. It makes sense. "But it would be kind of miserable if everyone was so petrified of me. Anyone who isn't--well--they're special. Doesn't mean I'll spare them, but I always think of those ones a little more than the others. They're like those moments in life you can never forget, they're so unique and rare. Fear is like all the little things in life that make you happy. They keep you going on a moment-by-moment basis, but they're not the ones you remember forever."

"Is that why you don't mind being in the Apex Games? I don't think anyone there falls under the fear category." Sherry asks as she stumbles forward a little bit, trying to calm herself as they get closer to the underground entrance.

"Ah, you catch on pretty fast, girlie." He snickers, looking back at her to ensure she didn't fall without his notice. "It's nice to be hunted here and again. The rush reminds me of when I was human. Some of them don't even treat me like the heinous blight on this hellscape of a universe that I am."

Sherry quietly ponders for a moment before responding.

"D-do you hate yourself?"

Revenant huffs loudly at the accusation, quickening his pace.

"Aren't we supposed to be talking about you, kid? Since when are we digging into my feelings?" He reaches back and grabs her wrist again, speeding up the pace as she trips a little.

"You really shouldn't, but I get it. It's very human of you." She adds in a rushed tone, trying to get it out without losing focus on staying upright. Revenant makes some kind of loud growling sound to try to cut off any follow-up she may have, but there is none.

"Fuck, please let's talk about you already. What's the deal here? What am I getting myself into?" He bemoans, slowing down a little for Sherry to stay upright and prevent more curious onlookers from potentially making assumptions. He doesn't need any additional attention than being a celebrity bloodsports contestant.

"She was my little sister, when I was just a kid she was kidnapped by some human traffickers. Same kind of guys that you had to deal with, I'm sure. We spent my whole childhood trying to find her. My parents both died before we found her, and I didn't have the means to keep looking by myself anymore." Revenant stops, not willing to drag her through her tale. "Nobody was ever found. The case went cold, like they always do. I couldn't sleep at night, until she was pronounced dead by law enforcement. Really, I thought they had to be right, even though I know it was just so they could close the record. I mean... I've never heard of any children ever being successfully rescued. They just vanish. Either they never reappear, or they come back as a bag of bones in a freezer somewhere." Sherry shudders, trying to hold herself together.

Revenant looks around, seeing the entrance to the underground just a few yards away. He pulls her into a side-alley and away from the crowds to find some privacy.

"What happened to your parents? You're not that old." It's possible that they were targeted after the fact, which would be an important detail. Sherry starts to break at the question, burying her face in her shirt. Maybe it wasn't a worthwhile line of questioning after all. She manages to speak through her cracking voice.

"Mom couldn't take it. She ended it. After that, dad lasted only a few years. It's like he lost the will to live, so when he got sick that winter... he was never going to get better." She kneels to the ground, pushing her shirt into her face as deep as she can possibly get it to go.

Revenant sighs at her story. Nothing he knows to say sounds remotely comforting. Every poor soul on this forsaken smear of Creation has a story of their own personal hell. It's like humanity itself has outlived itself, and now every human individual born is brought into a state of emotional, mental, or physical necrosis before they're even given a chance to live. Revenant is no different. He's been in his own hellish torture for hundreds of years, and his only purpose has become to spread that death to others. The lucky ones are those that die in his grasp--they get to rest and be free from this hell. Their loved ones? Not so lucky, unless he gets to them too.

Revenant sighs as he removes his headscarf, unlatching it from his chestplate and unwrapping it from around his head. He gently tosses it over her crouched frame, giving her something better to hide in.

"Kid, I need you to walk down to that door by yourself. If anyone is there, go in and buy a book. Any book. I don't care; put it on my tab. If the door is locked and you hear a commotion, get out of there. If it's locked and you hear nothing, wait." Revenant is straightforward, walking deeper into the alleyway by himself.

Sherry looks up from her shirt and peers out of his scarf, very confused, but she rapidly hops up to follow his instructions. His strange change in demeanor helps snap her out of her thoughts, even if only for a moment. As she walks back into the light of the sidewalk to take the stairs underground, she sees his frame disappear into the darkness. It's eerie.

Sherry wipes her face clean using his scarf, thinking twice after she's already gotten it wet with her tears. Maybe that wasn't his intent, but it's just instinct at this point. Maybe he'll understand. Maybe.

She finally gets back out into the light and onto the main sidewalk, making her way carefully to the underground entrance. It goes directly under the adjacent office building, and a short depth under the door for The Collector's Den sits alone in the shrouded dark.

Sherry jiggles the doorknob, but the entire place is locked up, despite being normal business hours. She peers at the door and a piece of paper has the words "Temporarily closed" scribbled on it and haphazardly placed in the window and behind the privacy curtain so it can easily be seen.

Sherry listens carefully, but hears nothing. There sounds to be no one in the building. Revenant told her to wait, right? Yeah, definitely. She inspects the aging doorknob carefully, jiggling it a little to feel for the strength of the lock. It doesn't feel that strong, but with the value of the merchandise, there's definitely some kind of alarm system she wouldn't want to set off. She remembers there are bars behind the privacy curtain, so breaking the window isn't an option. Same with the small window beside the door. Although, even if she did break in... if Rosé isn't here, she's probably just making a mess of her situation. The doorknob feels so weak though...

Sherry jumps back as the door clicks and opens, yelping louder than she intends.

She's shushed immediately by Revenant, who is standing on the other side.

"How did you get in there?!" Sherry whispers at him.

"I just went into the crawlspace access of the building above and found the HVAC that feeds into this place. Easy." Revenant whispers back. "There's no one here, looks like your sister and her handler jumped ship."

"You crawled in the vents?! How?! You're freaking huge!" Sherry exclaims in hushed tones.

"God, you really don't have any idea what I can do, do you? Whatever. I took care of the security system. It won't be bothering us until we leave." Revenant grabs Sherry by the headscarf and drags her into the abandoned store. She sees a strange glowing object attached to the security systems. It's the same thing Revenant uses in the Games to shut down opponents' tech for a short period of time. If it stays attached, it must not wear off. Revenant closes and locks the door behind them.

"So, any idea if your sister wants to be found?" Revenant asks, no longer lowering his tone.

"Uh, I hadn't considered it." Sherry asks, looking around for any additional clues Rosé might have left behind.

"I don't see anything, but you might be able to interpret something that I can't." Revenant says as he skulks around, inspecting everything behind the counter carefully. "Looks like the dust is building, but it would build way faster in this place, given the contents. Not sure when she left, but I think she's out of our reach at this point. If she's as smart as she comes off, she probably just wanted you to be aware she's okay, but isn't necessarily looking for a rescue."

"Not looking for a rescue?! Are you kidding?!"

"No, I'm not. Think about it. Imagine the risk that poses to her, to you, and to anyone adjacent to you both. When I saw her, I saw no evidence of any kind of physical abuse, despite the mask. She didn't seem stressed except when I expressed that the first book I bought wasn't good enough. If she's not in direct danger, she might be trying to protect herself and you by not allowing us to trail her so easily." Revenant explains, speaking slower than usual.

Sherry looks at him first in disbelief, then in realization that he's probably exactly right. Her face shifts into helpless frustration thereafter, then dejected haplessness.

"Kid, listen, I think she's okay. I think she's given us the best chance possible if we're actually going to try to get her out of this." Revenant tries to comfort her, at which she looks up from her downcast stature in surprise.

"You... You'll help?" Sherry looks like she might cry as she pulls her face deeper into Revenant's scarf.

"Fuck, don't say it like that. It's just... fuck off." He huffs as he turns away and crosses his arms. "I've got a bit of a vendetta against whoever started this little war with me. It's possible she's a victim of the same system. It's a free in for me to hunt--Fuck kid, why?!" He reels away from her hug, but he's too late. She's gotten away with this twice now. Three strikes and he'll have to throw her across the room, or something.

Sherry is bawling into him, barely getting out multiple thanks in various levels of lucidity. Revenant lets his shoulders droop as he rolls his eyes, not wholly sure how to react to gratitude he didn't ask for.

"Pull yourself together, kid." He sounds quite uncomfortable, but Sherry doesn't pull away. "I'll feed you alcohol and that trash greasy pizza if you get off of me."

Sherry pulls away from him immediately.

"Deal." She manages to get out between tears, wiping them away on his scarf without realizing what she's doing. He sighs a bit, realizing he's going to have to wash it when they get back to the Apex facility. He doesn't call her out though, he doesn't need Sherry to rat him out to his skinsuit when she eventually wakes up.

"Meet me back in that alleyway. There's nothing here, at least for now. We'll keep an eye out, just don't make a scene if you do see anything. Understand?" He taps her on the head, trying to ensure she's listening carefully.

"Yeah, I guess just tell you if I do?" Sherry pulls the scarf away from her face and smiles at him. Dammit, why did she have to go and do that? Revenant averts his LEDs from her. He doesn't like how much smiling he's getting out of people lately.

"Yeah, you're a sharp one... that's for sure. Now let's leave!" He shoos her away and out the door.

Once she's gone and out the door, he locks the door behind her, careful to leave everything as they left it. He only has a few seconds after he grabs his silencer off the security panel before it starts working again, so he has to get back in the vents. Still, he takes a moment to look around, pondering what he's just decided to do.

It's been a long time since he's had a new grudge to work off of. Best to enjoy the hunt and slaughter while the honeymoon phase is still in full effect. After all, he has a righteous reason to massacre as many of these punks as he can: these punks tried to take what he's claimed. It's not his fault he has to make an example out of them now. He's well aware of how many of them there might be, how high in society and deep into the trenches their roots might go, and how long this war might go on. He doesn't care. He has nothing but chassis to lose, and maybe a skinsuit. As long as he can keep her safe--which the Apex Games facility is a locked down haven--then he's already won. Easy.

He didn't start this war, but he's damn well going to end it.

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Dallas Winston x Johnny Cade x Reader

trigger warnings: character death, swearing, yelling, ANGST

premise: based on the song The Night We Met by Lord Huron. The rumbles been finished, the socs officially driven out, but Johnny's still dying, and Dally might not be able to handle that. Oh god, why can't you just go back to the night you met

Italics- memories

{not me making the first proper poly outsiders story really angsty. Sorry not sorry but I heard the song and- this happened}

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We did it! The socs are gone!" The loud cheers of the greasers filled your ears.

You grinned, laughing along with the others until you found Dallas tugging at your arm, when you turned to see his expression your face fell, "What's wrong?"

"Johnny- gettin worse-"

As soon as your partner choked out the words you began to panic, "Is he okay?"

"I don't know for how much longer... We gotta go see him-"

You nodded, "Lets- lets go then- we gotta-"

"He- Ponyboy-" He was quickly running off, dragging the boy off the ground and explaining as you ran up to the street, where you could see Buck's beat up t-bird parked.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!" You could hear Dally urging him along.

"I'm going!" Ponyboy hissed, quickly skirting around you and jumping into the back.

You quickly got in, and as soon as Dallas got the car started you were shooting off down the road.

The tension in the car was thick, anxiety rolling off all three of you in waves.

It was a few months ago and You'd just gotten out of work, and normally Johnny and Dallas would be on the corner waiting for you, but they hadn't been there. Somehow, you knew something was wrong.

By the time you'd made it to the lot, most of the gang was there. Steve met you up by the road, '(y/n) don't go down there- you- you aren't gonna like it'

That was what had gotten you in a panic, 'steve whats going on?'

'it's- it's- Johnny-'

Immediately you were pushing past him, running down into the lot, even as both Steve and Soda tried to stop you.

When you'd finally pushed through them, you'd found Johnny, beaten and bloody, face buried in Dally's jacket, still sobbing.

'oh- god Johnny...'

With Dally's speeding it was only a matter of time before a cop was pulling the car over, and you glanced back at Ponyboy, "Look sick- I will too- Dal say your taking us to the hospital, it's true enough."

He nodded, and the cop knocked on the window, leaning over as Dallas lowered it, "Good evening Officer-"

"Alright Bud, where's the fire?"

"The uh- the kid-" Dally gestured back to where Ponyboy was slumped in the back, "Fell over on 'is motorcycle- nearly took out the babe, I'm takin 'em to the hospital."

The man frowned, "Are they real bad? Could you use an escort?"

"Do I look like a doc to you?" He snapped, "Yeah we could use an escort."

The officer seemed to hear the panic in his voice as he nodded, heading back to his car. Dallas continued to tap his fingers on the wheel anxiously, "Come on, come on."

You bit your lip, "God Dal why'd we end up in this mess- Johnny's-"

"I knew I was wrong. I knew I was fucking wrong," He muttered, pulling out behind the cop, "I was just trying to protect you guys- you know? Figured there's only room for one person hard like me in a relationship- you know? That way you two would at least be okay and look what fucking came from it!"

You took a shaky breath as he slapped the wheel, "Dal..."

"You know if I hadn't tried to keep you and him from ending up like me he wouldn't be in this mess! If he'd been smart like me he wouldn'ta ran into that church and you wouldn't have followed him! That's what you get for helping people- isn't it? A couple editorials in the paper and a whole lotta hurt!"

He stopped, glancing back at Ponyboy, "You better wise up kid- you get tough like me and you don't get hurt! You get tough and no one can touch you!"

Ponyboy only groaned in response.

Dallas sighed, turning to look at you, "God (y/n) I don't know- what are we gonna do if we-"

"He's going to be fine Dal!" You snapped.

"You don't know that!"

You shook your head, "He's gonna be fine because I don't want to think about what will happen if he isn't!"

It was only a month or so after Dallas, Dallas of all people, put what the three of you were thinking into words.

You'd decided to take a trip down to Texas, there was no real reason, but still, the three of you had piled into Buck Merril's t-bird, racing down back roads and pulling off into fields at night.

Johnny had fallen asleep in the back just after sunset, and you could still feel the cool glass behind your head, 'god dal, aren't you tired yet? maybe we should pull off now...'

'I was thinking we get a motel somewhere.' he yawned.

'where are we gonna find a motel at? I'm about ready to fall asleep as it is...'

He chuckled, 'don't worry about it Doll... hell climb back with Johnny, I'll wake you up when we get to town.'

Soon you were pulling up outside the hospital, hurrying to get Pony out of the car as Dallas thanked the cop. As soon as the man was gone Dally was grabbed your hand and pulling you to hurry through the building, "Come on, come on!"

It seemed to take only the blink of an eye to get to Johnny's room, and you only half seemed to register the doctors words, "I'm sorry- he's dying."

"We gotta see 'im," Dallas glared at the man, "We've got to see him!"

"Please-" You half choked on the room, trying to look around him into the room.

With a sigh, he stepped to the side, "Go on-"

In an instant you were rushing to Johnny's side, "Johnny..."

You could feel Dallas behind you, "Johnnycake?"

"Heya (y/n)- Dal..." Johnny tried to pull a weak smile as he looked up at you.

"We won-" Dallas reached out, grabbing his hand, "We beat the socs- chased 'em right out of your territory."

"Fighting's no good.... useless...." Johnny half sighed.

You took a shaky breath, "There still writing those editorials- talkin about you, calling you a hero-- I'm proud of you baby-- we both are."

Dallas nodded, and Johnny's head half tipped back in a grin, "You'll be okay... I love you..."

"Johnny--" Dallas half choked.

Ponyboy elbowed past both of you, "He's my best friend--"

Your eyes were half clouded with tears as you stepped back, little moments filling your memory.

It was the state fair, and you were with them.

'come on Dal- your not scared of the ferris wheel are you?' Johnny half taunted.

you grinned, 'you've gotta go on- for us'

'i hate both of you'

Johnny mumbled something to Ponyboy, and then suddenly the room wasn't the same anymore. Almost as if someone had left. You didn't need to look back at the bed to know.

It was a late night, months ago

'(y/n)... (y/n).... (y/n)....'

'what dal?'

'johnnycakes is complaing about wanting cuddles'

Johnny scoffed, 'uh, excuse me, but that is entirely you, Dal.'

you chuckled 'i'll be there in a second'

He was gone.

You could hear Ponyboy's breath hitch, and, with shaky hands you reached forward, pushing hair out of Johnny's face, "Never could keep that hair of yours back could you baby?"

Dallas let out a noise that felt too close to a sob, "that's what you get for trying to help people Jonnycakes- that's what you get."

The lump in your throat couldn’t be pushed back anymore and you choked on a sob, tears falling from your eyes as you turned to Dallas only to see he wasn’t there.

He'd already whirled away from Johnny's bed, banging a fist against the wall, "Damn it Johnny! Oh god Johnny no..."

Dallas was gone down the hall before you could blink.

In a haze, you found yourself following Ponyboy through the hospital, being handed a jacket it took you a beat to long to remember was Johnny's.

Slowly you slid it on, almost instantly dragged back in memory again.

It was been late.

You hadn't planned on going out, but when you saw the light out in the lot you had to check it out. You'd found Johnny and Dally, sitting around a small fire they'd made.

'what are you doing out here?' you asked, sitting down.

Johnny shrugged, 'better than home.'

'beats rotting there.' Dallas nodded.

You had sat in silence for a few minutes before you sighed, rubbing at your arms, "awfully cold out here.'

'here' Johnny shrugged off his jacket, dropping it around your shoulders.

You were grateful for the jacket, but it didn't feel right. God all you wanted to do was go back, back to before all of this.

Somehow Ponyboy led you out of the hospital, and by some miracle you made it back to the Curtis house.

Soda opened the door, frowning, "What's wrong? Where have you two been?"

Ponyboy took a shaky breath, "Johnny's dead... Dallas- he left- (y/n)... I don't think they..."

Soda was already pulling you inside, and pushing you to sit down as Pony explained to everyone else.

"What do you mean Dallas is gone?" Darrel asked.

"He ran out," Your own voice surprised you, "Before it was the three of us it was just him and Johnny- he doesn't know how to live without him-"

"So even Dally has a breaking point." Two-Bit muttered.

Distantly, you heard a phone ring.

It has been a date night- ‘god (y/n) why you takin so long?'

'don't rush 'em Johnnycakes, gotta fix that pretty face of theirs'

'Johnny's being pushy? that's something I wouldn't think I'd see.' you chuckled, coming out of the bathroom.

'well the movies gonna start!'

Darry was talking to the group, "That was Dally- the cops are after him, we gotta meet 'im at the lot-"

Before the words were out of his mouth you were up and running, you couldn't get back to Johnny but you could still get back to Dallas.

It was midday, and you were wandering down the Tulsa streets

'Dal slow down! We don't walk as fast as you!' Johnny called.

He laughed, 'i bet if you tried you could keep up shortstack'

'i'm not short!' you protested.

'well then keep up!'

Down the street, toward the lot, faster, faster faster, you urged yourself. You can't loose him too.

it was early, you were sitting out on the porch with Johnny, watching the rain. Dallas had come out of somewhere, running and breathing hard, 'you got room for one more?'

You could almost see the lot, it was just out of view, you had to hurry, had to hurry to get back-

It was lunch time and you were at the diner with the gang, wedged into a seat between Johnny and Dallas, laughing.

The glow of the street light filled your vison now.

It was dark and you and Dallas hurried through the street, calling out for Johnny.

'i'm here! I'm here!' he called.

You threw your arms around him, 'you scared me!'

Dallas chuckled, 'both of us.'

Dallas was sprinting down the street glancing back every now and again, distantly you could see flashing lights behind him.

It was Autumn and you were back at the fair in the chilly night. Lights were flashing, people were laughing and you were with your boys.

Dallas was reaching back, into his waistband, grabbing something as police cars came to a halt.

It was spring, and day trips were frequent, but this was the first with just you, Dallas and Johnny. You'd found a lake, and now the three of you were spending a day by it's side.

Dallas was raising the gun, but so were the police officers, distantly you wondered if one of them was the same that had given you the escort.

It was years ago, and you had met Sodapop in class.

Shots were being fired, and you could distantly hear yourself yelling, he was falling, falling falling.

It was years ago and Sodapop was inviting you to meet his friends. It was years ago and a boy with big brown eyes was smiling at you from across the lunch table, turning to the sharp nosed blond next to him, who leaned across the table to tell a joke.

Dallas was on the ground, and as the gang who at some point caught up to you were screaming at the officers who'd put him there.

You crumpled to the ground. No, not him. Not Johnny. Not the both of them.

"Oh god take me back!" You were yelling, sobbing, as they were trying to take him away, "Take me back to when we first met! Maybe we won't fuck it up this time!"

But Soda was pulling you back, even as you promised, "I wouldn't let you fuck it up this time- just take me back!"

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x readre #dally x reader #johnny x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy 06 writes #teddy06 writes

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kuroopaisen · 3 years

Text

a matter of taste || nanjo kojiro (joe)

➵ you need to ask kojiro something. in private.

wc: 1.3k

warnings: f!reader

“Hey, Kojiro?” Your eyes are downcast and your voice so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the sound of his blood pulsing in his ears. The hallway’s sparsely populated with other teenagers, all of them disinterested in the two of you.

“Yeah?” He tries to keep his voice measured, perhaps even devil-may-care.

A moment of silence. You press your lips together, as though you’re grappling with your own thoughts.

Kojiro thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

“Can I talk to you?” You swallow, finally daring to meet his eyes. “Alone?”

You’re blushing, and you look so damn cute it’s taking everything within him to stop his mind – and his body, for that matter – from getting ahead of him.

“Sure,” he nods, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

You’ve never spoken to him like this before. Never so nervous, so… bashful. It looks cute on you.

He wonders if he should say something. Would calling you cute be too forward? Although, with how you’re acting, standing in front of him with pink cheeks and an air of general nervousness… maybe it’d be just the right thing to do.

Before he can say anything, you scuttle off, glancing over your shoulder as if to encourage him to follow.

He already knows where you’re leading him to; the roof is technically not a restricted area, but the implicit rule is that nobody has any good reason to be up there. Not that that’s ever stopped the now of you before.

His heart is racing at frankly unimaginable speeds now. Even skating doesn’t raise his pulse this much.

He jogs after you before you totally disappear from sight, his pulse beating in tandem with each leap up the stairwell.

Is this actually happening? Are you really about to confess to him?

He knows it’s not good to make assumptions, but he can’t help it. Why else would you be so secretive, so desperate to have this conversation away from prying eyes? And he’s been making a concerted effort to flirt with you more these days. Sure, you seem to play most of it off as a joke, but he can’t blame you for that. Maybe he needs to tease you less, give you a compliment or two.

You waste no time sitting yourself down on the concrete wall, resting your back against the metal bars that reach high above your head.

Kojiro sits himself down next to you, putting just a little distance between you. He can’t be brash – he won’t ruin this.

The two of you sit in silence for a long moment as you chew your bottom lip, an expression of pure disconcertion on your face. Kojiro just watches you quietly with a gentle smile on his face.

He could get used to this side of you.

“God, this is so embarrassing,” you groan, finally breaking your silence as you run a hand through your hair.

“Take your time,” Kojiro smiles, unsure as to how much longer he can hold out.

You close your eyes, cheeks flushed and fists clenched in your lap.

Maybe he should just take charge and put you ou—

“Do you know is Kaoru’s got a crush on anyone?”

Wait, what?

“Kaoru!?” Kojiro stares at you, mouth hanging open and heart dropping to his stomach. It’s too late for him to mitigate his reaction. He could only hope you’d read it as a joke.

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “What’s the matter?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for him,” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. He’s running on instinct, not even bothering to hide the scowl marring his face.

Kaoru? Kaoru? You brought him up here to talk about Kaoru?

“Don’t be rude!” You whine, kicking his shin with your foot. Kojiro barely feels it.

But it’s enough of an answer.

It’s strange. He can’t quite describe what he’s feeling as melancholy. Even shock seems too severe. But he’s feeling something, something new, something palpable, something he doesn’t know how to untangle.

Disappointment? Regret? Pain? No, those all sound too extreme. This sadness is milder, but he already knows it will be more persistent. The mundanity makes it worse; it’s an ache, not a sting. And an ache always leaves a ghost behind, a phantom of pain you can never predict.

“What, do you have a thing for pretty boys then?” Kojiro sighs, leaning back on his palms.

You punch him in the arm. It doesn’t hurt.

He doesn’t respond to that, instead turning his attention to his shoes. You’re quiet for a long moment, fiddling your thumbs together. He probably shouldn’t find it cute, but he does. Fuck.

“I just think he’s cool,” you mumble, looking up at the sky.

“It’s the lip ring, isn’t it?”

You stick your tongue out at him and scrunch up your nose. “No. I liked him before I knew he had that dumb lip ring.”

It’s been that long?

Kojiro swallows, his thoughts crossing over each other and muddling together in his head.

How could he have gotten it so wrong? Sure, you’d been friends for ages, so any affection between you was natural. But Kojiro had felt that something new had been brewing, something that’d transform whatever existed before.

But nope. He’s just a fucking idiot.

“I have no idea if he’s into anyone,” Kojiro sighs, looking up at the sky.

It’s a nice day. Clear, but not too bright. Perfect conditions for skating.

Ironically enough, it feels the kind of day nobody would expect to get their heart broken on. You haven’t even rejected him – not directly – but that somehow makes it worse. If you’d turned him down, that’d be fine. The two of you could work past it.

But no. You had to go and have feelings for Kaoru.

Is it because he’s smarter? Because he seems like the kind of guy who’ll grow up rich? Or do you just have a thing for longer hair? Or maybe you like that cool, collected type.

It’s useless to speculate. It’s not like he’s going to change himself – and he doesn’t want to. It’s dumb. He’s dumb. He just wants to go to the dock and practice. Slam his board against a few walls and work his frustration out.

“I can ask him, if you want,” he says. That, more than anything, felt like accepting defeat.

“Don’t do that,” you whine, “that’s so… childish.”

“Well are you gonna ask him yourself?” He snorts. He’s trying to play it off. Trying to keep you in the dark.

Your cheeks burn once more, but now Kojiro finds them painful to look at.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean, I’ve been dropping hints, but I don’t think he’s noticed…”

“He’s not good at picking up on that sort of thing,” Kojiro shrugs. The conversation is so casual it’s almost as if he didn’t feel like someone had stuck their hand into his guts and messed them around.

The last thing he wants to do is advise you on how to woo Kaoru of all people. He’s not a masochist.

But you’re his friend. You have been for so, so long. You trust him with this. That meant something, right? It’d be pretty lame of him to brush you off, wouldn’t it?

It’s fine, Kojiro tells himself. It’s fine.

Other girls have shown interest in him. It’s not like he’s undesirable – he could definitely get a girlfriend if he tried. He knows that. And hey, if the two of you had become romantically involved, that’d probably just complicate things.

This is for the best.

This pain in his chest, this discomfort rooting itself through his gut… it will pass.

Kojiro tries to smile, but he can’t make it reach his eyes.

You’re too preoccupied with the sky to notice.

#kojiro x reader #kojirou x reader #joe x reader #kojirou nanjou x reader #joe x you #kojirou x you #sk8 x reader #rowan writes sk8 #first sk8 piece and it's. this #i'm surprised #and if i say this is a prequel to something else i'm working on?#well we'll have to see how far my current interest takes me

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eyebagsbutglam · 3 years

Text

Meet the Parent(s)

A/N: This is a quirkless AU, lets pretend the Todoroki's are a happy functional family. My apologies to @myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants thank you for beta reading this exceptionally traumatic piece of comedy. Get ready to bleach your eyeballs y'all.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, taboo themes, vanilla sex, fluff, alcoholic mother.. I mean its pretty tame

Pairing: Touya x F!Reader

Word Count: 3983

“NEVER trust men.” You rolled your eyes as your mom went on another one of her man-bashing tangents.

“I’m serious Y/N. They’re always amazing at first, wining and dining you, promising you the world. Then when shit gets real- BAM! They’re gone, leaving you in the dust.” She shot back her last sip of wine and wiggled the glass in front of you asking for a refill.

“Mom please. Touya’s different. He’s dependable and considerate. I promise if you just give him a chance you’re gonna love him.” You walked into the kitchen and instead of grabbing the wine you poured her a glass of grape juice. She was sloshed enough to not notice the difference, you were experienced enough to recognize the signs of when she needed to be cut off.

“I know he is baby I’m just saying -hic- keep an eye on him. I know I will be tomorrow night!” She slumped over setting her elbow on the table, clumsily resting her chin in her palm. Her eyes were already at half mass.

“Yeah about tomorrow night. Could you maybe hold off on the drinking? At least keep it to one glass..” You wanted to add instead of one bottle, but you knew where that would lead the conversation and you’d rather not get in an argument tonight.

“Oh yes of course sweetie. You know I would never want to do anything to -hic- embarrass you.”Even her smile was crooked.

“Okay well maybe we should call it an early night. I want to make sure we’re nice and fresh for meeting Touya’s family tomorrow.”You helped her out of her chair and walked her to her bedroom, tucking her in.

Your mother was stressed. And when she’s stressed, she drinks. You couldn’t blame her. All in one night you revealed things are getting pretty serious with the boy you’ve been talkng to, and told her the following night you’ll be bringing her to dinner to meet him and his family.

She never did well with you having boyfriends, always so worried they were going to do you wrong like your father did her. You knew very little about the man, only the bits and pieces she shared about him. He was a regular at the bar your mom worked at, always flirting with her. They started dating and six weeks in she got pregnant. When she told him he flipped. He offered her a very large sum of money to disappear and she agreed, leaving town with a broken heart and swollen belly.

You felt bad for your mom, knowing the experience really jaded her. She never dated again, throwing herself into a new career all while being a full time mom. You hoped that seeing how amazing Touya was and how good you two were together, she would change her mind about love and get back out on the dating scene.

On the drive back to your place you called your boyfriend. You were beginning to feel nervous for the upcoming event.

“Hello dollface.” His deep voice was hypnotic, instantly soothing you.

“Hi handsome. How did it go telling your family about dinner tomorrow night?”You absentmindedly chewed on your bottom lip, a terrible habit you developed when anxious.

“Fine. Natsuo and Fuyumi won’t be able to make it. Shouto’s still doing his internship with dad’s company so he’ll be late along with my mom since they carpool to work. My dad however insisted on driving with me. He’s very interested to size up the woman who might give him grandchildren one day. Has to make sure you’re up to his standards.”His lighthearted chuckle did nothing to calm the nerves caused by his terrible joke.

When you didn’t respond he continued, “Oh come on Y/N I’m only kidding. I know they’re going to fall in love the moment they make eye contact, just like I did.”

“God I hope so.” You sighed, “Although its not just me I’m worried about.”

As you were getting ready for bed there was a knock on your door. Looking through the peephole you spotted a beautiful set of cerulean eyes and your heart leaped. You opened the door, forgetting you were in a skimpy set of silk pajamas.

You practically jumped into him, bouncing on your tippy toes so you could snake your arms around his neck. He held you close, splaying his palms across your lower back before reaching down further to grab a handful of buttcheek.

“What are you doing here handsome? Shouldn’t you be at home? We have a big night tomorrow.” You leaned back so you could see his face but stayed in his grasp.

“I wanted to surprise you. When we were on the phone earlier you sounded like you were stressing out about dinner tomorrow. I thought I’d come by and.. distract you.”He held you at arms length and let his eyes wander down to your lips, then chest, legs, and back up to your face, taking his time to enjoy the view. “But it looks like you were already expecting me?” A cheeky grin split his face.

Just then, the realization that you were standing in the hallway in basically underwear hit and you turned, wiggling your booty at the man behind you before pulling him inside. The latch clicked into place and he used your hold on his hand to spin you so your back was against the door, placing his hand behind your head to cushion it from hitting the hard surface.

Your lips parted and a small yelp escaped. Touya pressed his body into yours, sliding his hand to the back of your neck, his other hand untangling from yours to join. He nipped at your bottom lip and then slowly traced his tongue across it before enveloping your mouth with his own. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, arching your body into his. His kisses started migrating to your jaw, and then down the side of your neck. You hummed, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. When his kisses went from feather light to opened mouthed your eyes shot open. You grabbed a handful of his hair at the nape and pulled his head away from your neck. A growl rumbled in his chest and the feral look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine.

“No marks! Dinner tomorrow.. remember?”Although you could kick yourself for stopping him, you knew you’d thank yourself in the morning. He rolled his eyes at you, letting out an exaggerated sigh and rolling his neck to add effect.

“Okay okay fine. I’ll just have to leave my mark in other ways then..” And with that he bent down and tossed you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, heading straight to the bedroom. He unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed and began to take off his clothes. You leaned back on your elbows and laid there watching his movements. The way his muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head. His strong hands undoing the buckle on his belt to then pull down his pants so he was in nothing but boxer briefs. You pulled your lip between your teeth while you enjoyed the show.

With a cocky smile on his face he leaned over you on the bed, moving so his lips barely grazed your ear. “Are you going to undress or do you need me to do it for you?” The baritone of his voice vibrated down to your core, causing your panties to dampen.

You began to undress but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head against the bed. “It’s okay dollface. Let me do it for you.” He slid his hands down the length of your arms and down your sides stopping at the hem of your shirt. He pulled the fabric up over your head, your body lifting to assist the motion. He took a moment to admire you, slowly tracing your areola with his fingertips, one at a time, and watching them harden into perfect peaks. The action made goosebumps raise across your skin.

Once he was satisfied he moved to your lower half, hooking his fingers into the waistband of both your shorts and panties. Leaning in close to your body he began to pull the fabric down your legs, immediately noticing the string of your juices attached to your panties.

“Damn baby girl, is that all for me?”You recognized a hint of pride in his voice.

Smiling you nodded and squirmed a bit on the bed underneath him. “Mmm yes Touya. Its all for you.” There was no point in hiding the lust in your voice, It was useless to pretend you didn’t need him right now.

Once you were fully naked he grabbed you by the back of your knees and pushed your legs up, settling himself between them. He rested the side of his face on your inner thigh and examined you, grazing his fingers down towards your slit and the back again, never touching where you want him to. You felt so vulnerable in this position, everything splayed out for him to see, but he made you feel safe.

His eyes met yours as he continued his teasing touches. “You are so beautiful.”

His pupils were blown, just as you imagined yours were. Finally his index finger skimmed over your opening, gathering your juices, and found purchase on your clit, rubbing small circles into the little bundle of nerves.

You let out a moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back against the pillows. He turn his palm and slid his middle finger inside you rubbing his rough pads along your favorite spot. A heat began to collect in your core. “Eyes on me babygirl.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open as he continued his ministrations on your g-spot, adding another finger. Your hips bucked again and you began to whimper, you were getting close. He brought his face to your pussy, keeping his eyes on yours. You could feel the heat of his breath on your sensitive skin as his tongue slipped out to trace circles around your clit. Your hips started to wriggle vigorously until you were nearly riding his face. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, every so often to rubbing at the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars.

The heat grew, turning into a volcano about to errupt. Your hands grabbed at the sheets, balling into fists. “Touya.. Fuck- I’m gunnA-” But your words were cut off with a moan as you came undone. Your hips rose off the mattress and you squeezed your legs around his head. He ceased his movements, letting you ride out the wave of your climax.

Lost in a cloud of ecstasy. The release did wonders to calm your nerves. You opened your eyes trying to bring them back in focus. Suddenly you felt a tap tap on your leg and looked down. There sat Touya, head trapped in the fleshy prison of your thighs. You gasped and released him, sobering up from the orgasm he just gave you. “Oh my gosh Touya I’m so sorry!”

He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “That’s quite alright dollface. If I died between those beautiful legs of yours I would die a happy man.” He placed a quick peck on your lips. “Besides, I know how you can make it up to me.”

Before you could register what was happening you were flipped onto your stomach and your ass was being lifted into the air. He started to rub his length along your slit, smearing your juices on the underside of his shaft. The sensation of his veiny cock rubbing your already sensitive pussy sends jolts of electricity through your body. You groan, grinding yourself back onto him.

“Mmm that feel good baby girl?” He smacks your hip, using his other hand to line himself up with your entrance. A hiss leaves his lips when he pushes himself into you, savoring the way you feel around him. He bottoms out and stills, rubbing tiny circles on your lower back. The stretch feels incredible. He fills you up perfectly, reaching to your deepest erogenous zone. His inaction starts to drive you crazy and you begin to bounce yourself on his cock.

He grabs your hips and leans over your body. “So impatient. Alright then, do you want me to start moving?”You try to grind against him but his grip is firm holding you in place.

“Use your words dollface. What is it you want me to do?”Even though you can’t see him you can hear the shit eating grin on his face.

You let out a whine. “Ple-ease Touya.. p-please move! Need to f-feeel you.”

He starts with shallow thrusts, barely enough to cause friction. You whimper burying your face into the comforter.

“Is this what you want baby girl? Huh?”His grip tightens, so much for no marks. At least its somewhere you can cover with clothes.

Tears of frustration collect at the corners of your eyes and you shake your head no. Another smack lads on your hip. “I said use your words.” This time the command came out in a growl. His thrusts, though still shallow, began to snap harder against you. You needed more.

“Harder please! Ple-ease go harder!” Your pleas were granted when he pulled almost all the way out and thrust into you hard. Once, twice, then sets a brutal pace, pounding into you. He reached forward and hooked his fingers into your mouth, causing droll to spill down your chin. You were a whimpering mess. Moans and grunts filled the apartment, volume raising as you both reached your peaks.

“Fuck- I’m close. Where do you want it baby?”His thrusts turned erratic. You were almost there too.

“Inside! Cum inside me!”Arousal had completely taken over your thoughts, your pussy was the one making the decisions now.

His hand left your mouth to find purchase around your neck, pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest. His other arm wrapped around your body, grabbing your opposite shoulder and pulling you into his thrusts. He released himself inside you moaning in your ear, the pressure sending you into climax once more.

The both of you sat there a moment, steadying your breathing.

“That was..”He began.

“Necessary.”You finished.

You’re the first one to arrive at the restaurant. It was a local place, family owned, making for an intimate setting. The host seats you and you wait for the others, pulling out your phone to check for any notifications. As you look up you spot your mom walking in, she looks anxious. She notices you and smiles, almost walking into someone on her way to your reserved table.

“Hi mom.” You say with a sympathetic smile, “You good?”You rub her back in an attempt to soothe her, thinking to yourself which one is the child again?

“Oh I’ll be fine, as soon as i get a drink.” She flags a server over and orders a cocktail. You drop your hand and sigh, hoping she sticks to her promise of only one.

When her drink arrives she takes a sip, “Aahh much better.” She sighs, smacking her lips.

“They should be here soon, if you wanted to save your one drink for when we get our food..”You watched her take another sip, or more like a gulp.

“Mmm yes, yes. You’re right.”A sense of relief washed over you as you watched her put the drink down.

Your server walked up to the table. “Hello I’m Sou, and I’ll be your server for the evening. Is there anything I can get started for you? Some bread?”

“Yes we’d love some bread, and can we have water for six please? We’re waiting for some more people to arrive.” You smiled at the man.

“Actually, could you point me in the direction of the little girls room?” Your mother asked rising out of her chair. He directed her to a hallway to the right of the table and your mom was off with a quick “Be right back!”

She disappeared into the hallway right as a man with bright red hair and very large in stature entered the restaurant. You knew who he was immediately, him having the same cerulean eyes as your boyfriend. Confirming your suspicion Touya walked in behind him. You stood up and waved them over to the table, not being able to control the smile beaming on your face.

Touya got to you first “Hey babe, you look stunning.” He reached a hand around your waist and kissed you on the cheek. Then he stepped back, giving his father room to approach you. Your stomach did a somersault.

“Dad, this is Y/N.”He kept his hand resting on the small of your back to help calm your nerves a bit.

“Hello Mr. Todoroki. Its a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You held out your hand and it was soon engulfed by his much larger one.

“The pleasure is all mine Y/N I assure you.”He smiled, which somehow made him look more intimidating. “Touya, you didn’t mention how stunningly beautiful Y/N is.” You grinned, glancing at Touya who looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel trying not to roll his eyes.

“Lets sit. Y/N is your mom here yet?”Touya quickly changed the subject.

“Yes she’s here. Shes just in the ladies room, she should be out any minute.” Sou the server returns with a basket of bread and some waters.

“So Y/N, what do you do for a living?”Mr. Todoroki asks taking a sip of his water. You give Touya the side eye. This was a subject you were hoping to avoid, unsure if his father would approve of your line of work.

“I actually own my own business.” You feel Touya’s hand squeeze your knee under the table, encouraging you to continue. “I’m a salon owner. I have a shop on the other side of town. I started off behind the chair but with the salon as busy as it is now I only do hair one day a week. The rest of the time I’m running the business.”

Mr. Todoroki eyes you from across the table and your heart starts to palpitate. Shit. Is he disappointed?

“Ah! An entrepreneur. I’m always telling Touya in life a person needs to take risks, do what makes them happy. See Touya, you could learn a thing or two from this one.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Touya gives your hand another squeeze before letting go.

You begin sharing the ins and outs of the salon world when someone clears their throat to the right of you.

You look up to see your mom, frozen in place, all the blood drained from her face. “Mom?”You start to stand.

Touya and his father turn to greet her, but upon doing so Mr. Todoroki’s face drops and he can’t seem to find the words he was about to say.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Her words were like venom, and seemed to be directed toward the large man in front of her.

“Mom what are you talking about?”You try to laugh off your moms behavior, “This is Touya and his father Mr.-”

“Enji Todoroki.”She sounded furious. You looked to your boyfriend, relieved to see he was just as confused as you were.

“Do.. you two know each other?”Touya asked hesitantly.

Mr. Todoroki finally spoke. “Mira, I-”He looked at you, studied your face, then over to his son, and back to you.

“Oh.. oh no.”

“Can someone please tell us what the hell is going on?”Touya’s volume was raising in irritation.

“This..is all my fault.”You mother said before grabbing her purse and running out of the restaurant.

“Mom!” You called after her, but she was gone.

Anger and confusion rose inside you. The evening started off perfectly, of course your mom would be the one to ruin it. But how did she know Touya’s dad? You weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answer to that question.

“I..” Mr. Todoroki looked at you, his face unreadable. “I can’t be here.”He too got up and left the restaurant with haste.

“Dad!” Touya called after him, then looked at you. “Do you know what all that was about?”

“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”You grabbed your phone out of your purse to call your mom, but just as you unlocked the screen a text message came in, and then another.

Mom<3: I know you’re probably confused, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way..

Mom<3: I don’t know how else to tell you, so I’ll just show you. I only have one picture of your father, and it was taken the night before I found out I was pregnant.

An attachment followed the texts and when you opened it you felt your heart fall out of your butt.

It was a picture of your mom in a skin tight dress with a drink in her hand, she was laughing and leaning into the arms of a much larger man with fiery red hair and cerulean eyes. Your father. Enji Todoroki.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus Scene (that no one asked for):

Slowly you turned to see the same look of trauma on your boyfriends face. He had been reading her texts over your shoulder, and he already knew the story of your father.

Nausea overtook you. You couldn’t speak. You dropped your phone on the table with the picture still open and the two of you sat there staring at each other.

“Touya?”A young man with split colored hair broke the silence. You both turned to look at him.

“Shou..”Touya addressed his youngest brother in a daze.

“What’s wrong?”Shouto asked, then glancing at the phone on the table he added, “Is that dad?”

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x reader #i am so sorry #female reader #reader insert #mha smut #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #bnha lemon #mha lemon #dabi lemon #touya todoroki lemon #eyebagsbutglam #eyebagsbutglam writings

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