#i wouldn’t be surprised if he’s supposed to have a middle ground body type between kuukou’s more built body and jyushi’s lankier type lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 3 years

Text

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you.

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count: 5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

[Previous Chapter] [Series Masterlist] [My Complete Masterlist]

This is what dreaming felt like.

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan.

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better.

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it.

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real.

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him.

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did.

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle.

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met.

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat.

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world.

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too.

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously.

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.”

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart.

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?”

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss.

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded.

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back.

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity.

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair.

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question.

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement.

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection.

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece.

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you.

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary.

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled.

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,�� he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline.

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer.

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any.

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him.

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile.

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team.

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.”

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth.

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places.

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack.

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters.

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!”

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile.

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap.

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly.

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view.

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod.

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?”

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried.

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles.

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal.

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day.

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light.

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time.

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that.

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin.

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball.

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you.

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you.

“Now, you I believe.”

That made you smile and she returned it.

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave.

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong.

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

TAG LISTS:

PERM:

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @winters-buck @gooddaykate @steeeeeeeviebb @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @cahooter @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut @hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @corvueros @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer @apples-of-february @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @pikemoreno @Pascalplease @cosmicbug379 @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland @nerdypinupcrystal @fleetwoodmactshirt @jaime1110 @fioccodineveautunnale @fantasticcopeaglepasta @kid-from-new-zealand -- @roguereds @paintballkid711 @javier-djarin @ellaprime7 @kaetastic @veracruz-djarin @moonlightburned @nowyouwilldielikehimtoo @glitterfaecakes @karmezii @cyaredindjarin @nonink @irishleesh93 @heatherbel @himalayanwhite @stylelovechild @chews-erotically @sylvanas-lover @max--phillips @holographic-carmen @moonlikepascal @frankiemorales @thewaythisis @miss-leto @moonagedaydream505 @lannister-slings-and-arrows @atlas-adams-apple @lokiaddicted @ksgeekgirl @seasonschange-butpeopledont @nonetheleiss @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @this-cat-is-dea @thelastemzy @mymindisawhirlpool @mrschiltoncat @corrupt-fvcker @f0rever15elf @ohpedromypedro @walkerchick007 @66wookies @thirstworldproblemss @zannemes @lucifer- @mstgsmy @lunarthoughts @rosiefridayrogersunday @browneyes-djarin @jedi-mando @lv7867 -- @emotionalswift2 @pedrothirst @the-importance-of-being-sasuke @queenbbarnes @lou-la-lou @dandywinchesterbras @mtjoi @misslexilouwho @thisshipwillsail316 @sarahjkl82-blog @ladyperceval @persie33 @greeneyedblondie44 @unelohe @jettia @invisibility-thy-name-is @doin-stuff @wondergal2001 @missroro @bunniwarrior @hb8301

OCAC:

@mrsparknuts @equalstrashflavoredtrash @djarin-junk @altarsw @countryday @thottybarnes @limedane21 @warm-tea-and-otp @theocatkov @sinnamon-bunn @smiithys @jjlizz @marie-is-in-the-dark @violetsimery @assassinsasha23 @californiakoenig @i-hide-inside-my-head @paryl @mandowhoreian @peachdameron @imnotmentallyst4ble @lustriix @lokiaddicted @auty-ren @theocatkov @perropascal @manda-but-not-lorian @phenomenaaa @the-cosmic-ghost-18 @mad-red @coffeeandtodd @lostinwonderland314 @youmeanmybrain @rosalinayagi @mrpascals @humongouspandafest @highlycommendable @lucifersfavouritesinner @theduchessofkirkcaldy @spacenerdsebby @maytheglitter @keeper0fthestars @maydayfigment @chibi-liz05 @fleurdemiel145 @myhoneybeeheart @rise-my-angel @popculturepriestess @kochamcie @gallowsjoker @beefthief247 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @toilet-keeper @that-one-weird-one @thesoftdumbass @mandalorianbrat @ghostwiththemostbitch @mstgsmy @rosalinayagi @sesamepancakes @the-wandering-pan-ace @straycatoncrack @anteatingbitchlizard @dandywinchesterbras @marvelous-capsicle @altarsw @thesoftdumbass @misslolasworld @sunshine-and-peppermint-tea @generalbluebirdphantomc @haleypearce @lakeli @jeor @shadowfoxey @screamingexternally @wonder-jedi @1800-fight-me @mar-y-tixrra @fanficshitandother @03stepedwa @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @nerd-without-a-cause @lonelystarship @valhallavalkyrie9 @stra1ghtn0chaser @celestialscrewup @simply-sams-things @rosemirrors @pansexualdriver @wanderlust69 @taydjarin @harrypotter3941 @what-is-life-in-general @hidden-whatever @womenofwharton @amanda-loriannn @justawilddreamerchild @mahowg-blog @mlb4evah @ayamenimthiriel @bekahbug94 @ayamenimthiriel @obiwanwhore @womenofwharton @subtlestarrs @chook007 @alovelypeach @heykathchuu @mellomadness @t3a-bag @izthefangirl @misslexilouwho @devcaisnea @misguidedandbeguiled @tedpicklez @vampgguk @risingphoenix641 @the-scandalorian @mcueveryday @setsuna-meiou31 @tanyaherondale @lordofthenerds97 @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @grogusmum @beefcakebarnes @pedritopascall @4ng3lf43 @petersunderoos96 @cannedsoupsucks @greatcircle79 @spideysimpossiblegirl @angelcvsmic @bel-ppa @julesorwhatever @giselatropicana @buckysbackpack @dankest-farrik @ajeff855 @aerolanya @bluegirlusa1 @momc95 @sickinthesoul @grippleback-galaxy @certainwerewolfnight @bookloverfilmoholic @a-coffee-addict-613 @an-author-of-stars @darlingotaku @darlingotaku @arduadastra @pansexualdriver @rosemirrors @simply-sams-things @xxtwizztedxx @call-me-soap @nerdthickly

#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars fic #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x Reader #OCAC

562 notes · View notes

deluluass · 3 years

Text

Attention

Since requests are open again, can i request a yan!bokuto developing a crush with one of the other teams' managers during their training camp? 👀

for: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa. hi bestie 😔 this is late (again), but i hope u like it 😍

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; underage drinking; (slight) sub!Bokuto👀; mild footplay

Three minutes.

Three minutes and forty-five seconds, to be exact, before the truth came for you like a ball careening towards your blindside:

You’re not supposed to be here .

Granted, the thought had already slinked its way into your brain ever since you’d overheard the coach crying on his phone, his wife on the other side of the line, that if he hadn't groveled and appealed to his college friend’s sense of honor, as he’d sniffled, they wouldn’t have even considered the team ( your team) to be worthy of receiving an invitation to this training camp.

Ignoring the worries that came after that was supposed to be easy. It shouldn’t have come at all . It’s irrational and it doesn’t help anyone. What was the point in fretting? Your boys are more than deserving— more than capable in fact —of going toe to toe with some of Tokyo’s best.

It’s also a given that those people don’t know anything about your team. You do live in a town half a day’s ride away from the capital. And how could you expect city folk to recognize a team that hails from a place where the cows outnumber the people three to one?

They’re bound to not know.

But the needless unease stayed and soon took a life of its own, the weight of it becoming heavier and heavier over the course of the weeks that you waited for that dreaded day, like a hungry beast that you diligently fed with your little what-if’s.

What if that place eats us alive?

What if they make fun of us?

What if, despite trying our hardest, all we do is lose?

What if these people take a single look at us and think that we’re not good enough?

What if they’re right?

The deep chasm on the scoreboard tells you exactly that, plain and without a hint of artifice.

Shinzen High has already scored five points.

Your team is still stuck at zero.

And the clock continues to tick.

“Chance ball!”

Your captain's voice was feeble against the noise of the ball being passed from one hand to another.

Odd, that.

Itsuki's not the type to pull his punches. Especially in the middle of a game; always one to use his entire chest when launching back at his enemies with a guttural roar.

You looked at the players standing on your side of the court— really looked at them, in a way that you should have instead of wasting your time entertaining those doubts— and found nary a trace of your teammates among those too-stiff, too-quiet boys that bore an uncanny resemblance to a bunch of rabbits caught in the headlights.

A chuckle erupted from your chest, surprising even you.

"Something funny?" the coach asked, his glance turning wary when you convulsed in a fit of shrill giggles.

"Yeah," you told him, shaking your head. “There is, Coach.”

From the bored expressions on your opponents’ faces to Shigeru’s (failed) attempt to set for Koyama, all the way to an audience that wasn’t even looking, who were, frankly, much more interested in what's on their phones than what’s in front of them.

How can you not find this funny?

You were worried about... this ?

You sighed, your head the clearest that it’s ever been in a long while, and stood from your seat on the bench.

The coach called out your name in a harsh whisper. You ignored him, not even bothering to explain yourself. After all, you’ve already spent too much of your energy on the wrong things.

And so, in the most polite way that you could, you shouted:

“Hey! What the fuck is this!”

Everyone might've gawked; the coach may have pulled you back to the bench with a strength that you didn’t know he possessed. There’s something much more important than being respectable, though.

“None of us ever cared about what these assholes think!” you pressed on, staring down at Takami, whose dad never fails to remind him that he’ll waste away his life fooling around with that useless club . “So, why,” you ask with a clear voice, “Why are we starting now?!”

Of course, just like any of your spur of the moment ideas, that hadn’t ended the way you hoped it would.

They still lost (they also did in the following game). All of the coaches (including yours and excluding the one from Nekoma High; that one just patted your back) had expressed their disapproval over what you did. You couldn’t regret it, however, no matter how humiliating their rebukes made you feel.

Because you don’t think you’ve seen any of your teammates look the least bit happy since you set foot into this place. But, now— even with the fact that all they've achieved so far is keep the floors clean with their diving laps— now, they do.

With that, it seems to you then that this place isn’t so bad, after all.

A day.

A day and ten hours, approximately, had already passed when Bokuto felt your presence acutely like the stinging red imprint a hurtled ball leaves on his skin. And just like the circumstances that lead to that bloodied, angry marking, you made your existence known with just as much force as a player spiking for the kill.

Some of them guffawed, out of disbelief and sheer delight both, because in all the years that they’ve trained together in preparation for the interhigh, they don’t think anyone has ever called them a bunch of “assholes” before.

They didn’t think much about that new team that arrived too late. So, yeah, Bokuto wanted to laugh, too, just like others. ‘ What a way to make an impression, huh?’ he wanted to say.

That wasn’t what he said, though.

Bokuto wasn’t even able to say anything.

He was too busy staring at your mouth, the resoluteness in your lips as if you knew exactly what to say; the way you looked at your teammates, like there was nobody else more astounding, more unbeatable at this game than the boys before you (though, surely, even you can see that they’re far from being any of those things).

And yet, there you were, your eyes incandescent; they might as well have been on fire, blazing with so much awe and unshakable faith and it was so clear for everyone to witness and— and Bokuto did not know what to do with it.

It was so embarrassing, truth be told. Bokuto may not be the most secretive guy around, but when the others eventually pointed out that he looked scared at the thought of facing them ( you ), he just couldn’t help but sulk.

“We’re not half the cheerleader she is, Bokuto-san,” Yukie teased him, patting his shoulder as she did, “but rest easy, we’ll try our best to boost morale.”

He just groaned, immediately locking his legs at a stand still when the others hooted, ‘Look at him! He looks like he’s about to piss himself bouncing his legs like that . ’ Really, what was he supposed to say?

Because, when he finally faced your team with that net in between and as he felt the ball against his palms when he aimed for a clean hit towards the floor, it’s not even fear that rushes through him.

Not even close.

Beyond the defeated faces, of the exhaustion slathered all over your team’s barks after each point he snatched under their noses, Bokuto saw you looking at him.

Just a flicker; a passing peek before that determined gaze settled back on the others. But it was there all the same: the pause in your breath as the ball detonated against your teammate’s frail arms, clutching the edge of the bench with your fingers as if it took everything in you to keep yourself from running towards the court.

To rush towards him.

To— to what ? Exactly? To scream at his face the same way you did earlier? That he's going too rough and hurting your precious friends?

There’s a part of him that wishes to stop. A strange, alien feeling that he supposes comes from the discomfort at the sight of you so troubled and wound up.

Oh, but you're just starting to understand!

That if there's someone who's truly astounding, unbeatable, and staggeringly brilliant at this game, it's him . And Bokuto wanted to drive that point home like he's never wanted anything else in his entire life.

His body stopped feeling like his own by the second set.

His legs were too light to be his, like there were coil springs underneath his feet that carried him higher and higher he swore he could brush the roof with his fingertips.

There’s a thrumming in his flesh that propelled Bokuto to move faster, to push that ache over the edge until there’s nothing left but the breathless exhilaration of seeing his opponents kiss the ground.

The air is getting thinner, like he’s scaling towards a mountain top as he sprints towards the other side of the court, long strides eating up the floor, uncaring for the sweat pouring down his cheeks.

Bokuto was willing to let this thing go on forever and ever and ever , for as long as he feels the searing heat of your eyes on him.

Until he turned his head in your direction.

You were smiling at something a spectator said.

He couldn’t hear it, but whatever it was it had pushed you to make a teasing remark to your team.

A banter ensued.

The referee blew his whistle as a warning.

You giggled.

Why?

“The ball, Bokuto!”

Why aren’t you looking?

His hands were two weights keeping him down, made heavier by that sinking sensation in his chest.

When did you stop looking?

It was too much, too unbearable that he could cry. The indifferent way you'd removed him from your line of sight was a sucker punch that's not as painful as the shame it leaves him with.

Were you even looking at all?

And he wonders with a shuddering exhale as he finally gathered the strength to raise an arm, Bokuto wonders what would happen if, just this once, he shot the ball towards y—

“Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi was calling out to him.

“Bokuto-san, we already won."

The ball within his grasp dropped.

Bokuto watched it bounce on the floor until it rolled over to somebody else's waiting palm.

He took a deep breath— in and then out, repeated it until everything came into sharp focus —and raised his head to squint at the scoreboard.

22-3

So they did.

The other side of the court was already empty, your team assembled to one corner; you were out of sight.

Everyone started to gather around him.

They took Bokuto along with their cheers and reprimands and accusations, like a strong current that carried him from the bench to the shower room, laughing as they handed him a towel, having noticed that he’d been too out of it to do anything else but stay half-naked in front of the sink.

“Are you alright, Bokuto-san?” he heard Akaashi ask over the teeming excitement surrounding them.

Blinking, Bokuto paused from wiping his bare torso as he replied, “Me?”

Their setter only nodded.

“Yeah!” Bokuto exclaimed, a tad louder than he ought to. “Yeah, dude! Of course! Never been better!”

“You were a man possessed," Masaki, still fresh from the shower, suddenly drawled from behind him.

“You were... quiet,” Ubugawa’s captain continued, reaching for the toothpaste laid next to Akaashi. “It was unlike you.”

Bokuto was about to say something, somewhere along the lines of “Really? I didn’t notice” when Daiki made his decision to wring the wet shirt in his hand, brandish it like a belt, and strike Bokuto’s back with it, the impact cutting across the room.

“You little..!” Bokuto turned with a snarl, poised and ready to throw the boy over his shoulder.

“Let it go, let it go,” Daiki chortled, grabbing Bokuto by his damp hair. “That’s for not giving us a warning, alright? Crazy bastard.”

Daiki shook his head as he walked away. “Never seen the idiot go hard like that,” he mumbled.

“That’s our ace for ‘ya!” Haruki echoed from his cubicle, to which the others responded with wolfish howls and sharp whistles, completely transforming the shower room into a tiled rainforest.

And Bokuto wanted to join along, because although the game still felt like an abrupt, fever dream, he’s well aware that he did something that he’s going to be proud of in the days to come. But somehow— for some unknown, beguiling reason, all he could do was stand there and make himself vulnerable to Kuroo’s antics.

The Nekoma captain looked at Bokuto through the mirror, clicking his tongue before lamenting about “ those poor country boys ” and their “ ill luck ”.

“Go easy on us small fries sometimes,” he added. “You were pretty scary back there.”

Kuroo gave his nape a quick pat before he went for the lockers, leaving Bokuto to stare at his reflection, features obscured by the fog.

Scary , he said.

Scary, huh.

A man possessed.

Bokuto wonders about its meaning, what coach had meant earlier when he’d jokingly called him a beast. He contemplated what about him had led them to think that way, tried his best to be perceptible of any changes.

His eyes were the same, although the pupils in the middle were large pools of tar, widened and leaving only the slightest space for the honeyed rim.

His hair was the same platinum color and still streaked with the same black lines, although untamed and in a disarray this time, with the strands sticking to his forehead.

Although flushed, his face was the same, over all.

Everything seems to be right where they’re supposed to be.

Although he’s huffing and puffing, creating more mist to cloud the mirror with. And when he tried to reach for the glass, he realized that his fingers were still trembling. His blood still surging as if his body had never left the court.

Then, it struck him.

Bokuto holds his breath in anticipation, the truth of it right in front of him.

There’s no monster here.

No man possessed either.

Only a guy who’s helplessly, foolishly in love.

Announcing to an entire room of strangers that one is of the opinion that they're assholes, as it happened, was an effective way of making new friends.

Of course, there was that awkward day-long explanation that you had to do for Yuki and Kaori and the others. An affair that wasn’t too different from a one-woman press conference that involved you expressing your regrets, revealing that, sometimes, when backed against a wall, you can be an impulsive clown with a glaring lack of filter (like: "No, no..! I didn't think you guys were actually- you know- ass- it just spilled-" and "Ah, geez, this is embarrassing.The heat was getting to me. I didn't mean it, really!" )

But the girls had been kind enough to let bygones be bygones, assuring you that all they ever felt was a joyous combination of relief and wonder. Ubugawa's manager, Eri, (who'd shook your hand while holding back tears) even told you that seeing another girl in a veritable sausage fest that is the training camp was a miracle in itself.

"It was fun, actually," Mako once said when the two of you were assigned to carrot chopping duty. "You gave us something to talk about for a while."

And even when the novelty of being a bumpkin with the mouth of a sailor soon faded, the bond that quickly bloomed between you and the other managers hadn't.

It was unexpected, although not unwelcome.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself. How silly you'd been: coming into the city expecting a den of wolves and hunters armed to the teeth.

In the span of two days thoughts of survival were replaced by the confidence that your boys would pull through; by a sense of ease that you didn't need to win all the time and that this place is not a battlefield, but a fertile ground for growth and learning. You didn't need to constantly be on your guard— knuckles up and gearing for a fight, you realized.

Well —

For the most part, at least.

Serving spoon in one hand and potholder in another, you reluctantly paused from preparing your team’s meal to whisper under your breath. "He's doing it again," you hissed.

Kaori only gave you a preoccupied “hm?” as she plucked the ladle to fill the plain white ceramic bowls before her. “Who is?” she continued.

“Your captain,” you replied, taking care not to let him know that you're on the verge of melting under his not so subtle scrutiny.

The lovely Fukurodani manager didn’t even miss a beat; without lifting her eyes away from the food, she raised her voice, just loud enough, to address the creature (spying) standing idly by the door.

“Say, Bo-kun,” Kaori called out and you watched, amazed, as he coughed out the water that he’s been making a great show of drinking. “Your mama must not have taught you that it's bad to ogle.”

Bokuto Kotaro, Fukurodani’s ace and captain— a volleyball player that sits atop everybody else in this training camp, whose name is almost always followed by “one of the very best in the country”— quailed as his manager, the Great Kaori Suzumeda, blessed him with a smile veering on beatific.

“Oh-who-me?” he prattled, hands pointing at everything and nothing as he choked on his own words. “Didn’t see you there! What’s up! I was just passing by!”

“In the middle of practice?” Kaori snickered. “ You ?”

The boy released a laughter that resonated in the empty cafeteria.

She sighed, dropping the ladle, and told him to “Just go, Bokuto.” He obediently complied, thank the gods, but not without an overzealous goodbye to Kaori, as if he’d never see her again when lunch was just half an hour away.

He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t need to, anyway. The lingering gaze that he directed towards you was enough.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you made sure you’re no longer within his earshot, plopping your head against Kaori’s soft arm.

Her chuckle fluttered towards you, causing you to smile as she asked, “Is it that bad?”

You could only nod, both as an affirmation and an effort to shake those golden, hawk-eyes out of your system.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said after a few seconds of comfortable silence, the firmness in her voice making you stand upright and level with her.

Common decency tells you that you should say no, to stop her and tell her that she didn’t really have to; that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. But, you’d never really been one to listen to what that part of your brain dictates.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a light squeeze, incapable of doing anything else to convey your gratitude with a sob lodged in your throat.

“He’s not a bad guy, our Bokuto,” Kaori soothed. “And for what it’s worth, he’s never been like this with someone he likes.”

A grin lit up her face as you snorted, remembering the time someone had finally caught on to Bokuto’s newfound fixation. The uproar that it’d cause in the field when everyone was out enjoying slices of ripe watermelon. The unnecessary and, frankly, embarrassing anger that it’d pulled out of your boys after it's been revealed to the whole world. The infamous blush on Bokuto Kotaro’s face as he desperately tried to deny the accusation.

And the cold, spent feeling it left you.

“Normally, he’d be all over them,” she continued, mimicking his owl-like way of moving, bobbing her head to and fro as she circled around you.

“Kaori!” you squealed, pushing her playfully by the shoulder.

“Bokuto would be like—” Kaori pumped her fists in the air, “ Hey, hey, hey! Talk to me! Talk to me! Compliment me! Love me! ”

You simply hummed, folding your arms against your chest as you commended her spot-on performance.

She didn’t need to tell you all that, though. The guy had a personality so big it’s a miracle how this city contains him. And you’d known from the very beginning that Bokuto Kotaro doesn’t seem like the type to do the whole “pining from a distance” thing.

But, they even said that he’s half in love with you already, with the way he follows you with his eyes and flails and stutters and acts like he’s never had a mouth and a pair of hands before whenever he’s around you. And that, somehow, he plays even better than he already does when you’re in the audience ( especially when it’s against your team).

You don’t bother to correct them and say that no, this might not be a silly little crush.

Because you don’t think that anyone but you would understand that there can never be any love nor infatuation in a stare that traps you with its expectations. Even if you did tell them that, you’re the only one who knows what Bokuto’s gaze really makes you feel like: A plaything that he’s been gifted to and was told would sing and dance for him just so he’d stop crying.

And you know what temperamental children do with toys that don’t work the way they want it to, don’t you?

“Trust me.”

Kaori’s gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“He’s just an idiot,” she told you. “You’ve seen him— especially last week!” Kaori’s eyes bulged out, leaning closer to you, both of you gasping at the memory.

Tears sprung out of your eyes as you laughed harder, your stomach aching when Kaori began to recount the events that had turned the entire training camp on its head, forever planting itself in its history as the worst ordeal it’s ever faced:

A piece of the wall in the girls’ sleeping room broke off, revealing a large, Lovecraftian nest of cockroaches.

“If you’d only seen his face!” Kaori cackled, struggling to finish as she clutched onto you for support. “He burs- bursted into the room only for him to- to-”

“Pass out when a roach flew to his nose! I know !” you screeched and slapped the table with her, ignoring that you’re almost knocking over the food and chortling until you were close to having a heart attack.

“Oh- oh , I can’t breathe,” she groaned. Your laughter tapered off into heaving as you fixed her mussed bangs.

You smiled.

“See,” Kaori finally said, pinching your chin a little. “Bokuto’s a meathead. Just a meathead. Guy can’t get a clue. But he’ll come around once he realizes that he’s being weird.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, giving her a weak nod. "I'm sure he will."

You didn't know if you meant to say that with a hint of irony; if that scared farm girl is rearing her ugly head again and pointing a pitchfork at a monster of her own making.

A monster that, you're convinced, would do something more than just look once you're within its reach.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Bokuto even had it all figured out in his head. C’mon, he's got the looks, doesn't he? And he's not lacking in charm. In fact, he's oozing with it! That's why Bokuto had expected that he had this one in the bag. His game plan was foolproof:

Talk to the girl. Get the girl.

After that, you’d be together for the rest of your lives and your fiery, unrelenting support for that lousy team of yours would never go in vain ever again. Because it’d all be directed to him. All that “ Good job! ” and “ You were amazing back there! ” and “ Don’t be scared! I’ll be right here rooting for you! ” would finally be given to someone who actually deserves it.

All you had to do was see what he had to offer and baby— oh baby , how you'd love him. No force on Earth could have prevented Bokuto from making you his.

So it's all the more sobering now that Bokuto’s witnessed that the said force turned out to be him of all people. And what he could actually give you was a few stumbling lines and compliments that didn't even make any sense (“ Y-your face smells nice ” for example)— all (preferably) uttered a few feet away from you.

The others teased him for looking like a jilted witch casting a spell on an indifferent lover. “What are you? Speaking in tongues or something? Is the Great Horned Owl that desperate?” they poked at him. He didn’t mind them before, but now he’s not so sure.

" Tone it down, okay? " Kaori had reminded him again earlier this afternoon. That stern talking-to from their manager was an ice-cold bucket of water that doused what’s left of his optimism.

But, tone what down? What , exactly, is left to tone down?

He couldn’t even talk to you without losing his ability to string coherent words together, let alone get close to you. Eye contact, too, he’d deliberately restrained himself from doing (if only you knew how much this is hurting him!) and not just because he’d been deemed a complete and utter creep.

Bokuto couldn’t look you in the eye ever since that incident.

“ She’s helping the other girls carry their stuff to the other room, I saw them just now ,” Yamamoto had discreetly passed on as soon as he woke up from a terrible concussion. “And if you want to redeem yourself, my friend, after that humiliating performance, you’d better go out there and lend a hand. ”

Because Yamamoto, being the love expert that he proclaimed he was, told him, “ Look, I feel for you. But it’s simple. You just gotta show her what you’re made of. That you’re a man she can depend upon, ” Bokuto then persevered to follow through.

Only for him to be met by an empty room with bits of crumbled plaster scattered across the floor. And your bag in the furthest corner just...lying there.

Maybe you’d forgotten about it. Maybe you were too busy catering to your friends' needs that you'd forgotten about yourself.

Either way, Bokuto promises that it wasn’t on purpose.

Bokuto had good intentions, really! He just wanted to take the bag with him so he could give it to you, is all! It wasn’t his fault that some of your stuff was peeking through the half-opened zipper. It’d already been in that state when he saw it.

And- and it’s not his fault that he adores you too much.

Bokuto reminds himself as much as he propped his forehead against the bathroom wall, water from the shower pouring against the taut muscles on his back as he wrapped your underwear around his cock.

The baby pink fabric, every inch of it soiled now over the days that he's used it, rubbed against his balls when he began fondling them, his other hand caressing his nipples, rubbing and pinching at the peaks until they stiffened between his calloused fingers.

His cock grew hard and heavy in his hand as he started pumping into his fist, fucking your soaked panties until precum dripped from slit.

And with nobody else in the shower room, Bokuto allowed himself to grunt and curse and call out your name, digging his nails into his skin until it stung and made him want to cry.

"Make me cum, princess," he whined, shutting his eyes to watch you on your knees, fingers between your legs as you looked up at him, never taking your eyes off of him even as you took his cock down your throat.

"Please, please ," Bokuto groaned,"Please let me cum."

Here, you don't turn away nor brush him off without even saying anything. Here, you call him your baby and you chuckle as you ask him, " Good boys deserve to cum, don't they? "

He bit his lip, pressing his cheek against the freezing tile. "Mmhmm, I-I've been-" Bokuto moaned, feeling himself creep closer and closer, the pleasure at the pit of his stomach building, "I've been so fucking good for you."

The contrast of your pretty little underwear around the thick veins of his cock made his head spin. And as he squeezed his shaft tighter, Bokuto knew that he did, in fact, deserve so much more.

Because he's endured so much just for you. Now, it's time to get what he's due.

Scouring high and low for a pair of cotton panties that have seen better days wasn’t how you wished you’d celebrate the last night with your newfound friends.

Yuki had advised that you abandon the ratty, old thing (though you did say it wasn't; ratty, that is) and leave it here as a parting gift— a mark of your impact on their lives, if you will— but you’d quickly laughed her off and set out to find it. She was drunk, anyway.

Although, so were you. If not, then just a tiny, itsy, bitsy, bit tipsy.

You hiccuped, giggling as the sound echoed through the poorly-lit hallway. The world was spinning beneath you and you prayed that it wasn’t worse for poor Yuki, having chugged half of that horrid concoction.

Kaori almost threw her out of the window after that stunt. Mako scoffed at her for being an arrogant ass. The girls who weren’t drinking sat back and chose to enjoy the unfolding chaos (while also being kind enough to be on the lookout).

And you...well...right now you’re on the verge of breaking down as you make your way to the shower room.

Mostly because you’re just realizing that you might never see them again if your team doesn’t survive the Inter High. Partly because you’ve been dumb enough to not notice that you’ve been missing an underwear for a couple of days now.

God, it's so ridiculous. You're ridiculous. You're glad that you went on your own and rejected their offer to accompany you. Imagine if they saw you like this:

Oscillating between sobs and strained laughter while swaying on your feeble legs; the very picture of a lunatic out in the streets in the middle of the night.

You only hoped that you're not scaring the living daylights out of that guy who probably just went out of the boys' room to pee. Maybe you have already spooked him, with how still he's gotten.

Cupping your palms around your mouth, you saw fit to save his sanity and cried, "Heyyyy! I'm not- hic - a ghost!"

"Oh!" you gasped, raising a pointing finger to shush yourself, "Oh, yeah, sorry, shhh-"

He didn't run the other way screaming and crying, which was good, instead he approached you hurriedly, making you squint to get a better look at him.

"Koyama?" you whispered, struggling to recognize the tall boy with a sturdy build, his navy blue hoodie casting a shadow on his face. It didn't help that your eyes were doing something funny, as if they were busted camera lenses that went uncontrollably in and out of focus.

"Good evening, my dear! I daresay you're looking quite bur- burl- blurry tonight."

You cackled, immediately following your greeting with a slurred apology.

"Why- Why are you still- um- up?" he asked. And before you could volley him with a question pointing to his weirdly different voice, he brought his head down to sniff at you. "Wait- have you b- are you drunk ?"

"What! No! Of course not!" You pouted and airily slapped his cheek, drawing a lopsided grin out of you when his skin glowed pink, bright enough to light up the entire place. It was so remarkably adorable that it made you squeal and pinch both cheeks, rocking his face as you did.

"Look at our big boy!" A sheepish, almost disbelieving chuckle shook his large chest as you resumed your baby talk, your grabby hands bringing his face towards you. "Who would've thought that our stwong, wowdy ace could bwush wike so? And what's with this siwwy hoodie, huh? Where did you get this, bunnycakes? I've never seen you wear this before!"

You wondered, also, why and how his jet black hair turned pallidly gray over the few hours you hadn't seen him. You even brushed the mildly damp locks out of his forehead, unsure if they're even real as you tried to right your smudged vision.

And you wanted to blame it all on the alcohol.

It's the reason for that dramatic change in his tone and manner of speaking and hair color and...those eyes .

The very same pair that followed you everywhere, sometimes even in your sleep.

"You love me, after all," he breathed, the statement a thin sheet of glass that could blow into smithereens at just the wrong response.

That had been enough to drain the inebriation out of your body. Like being branded, you pulled away from Bokuto with a harsh curse.

"I- I have to go," you said. "Sorry, I thought you were Ko- my teammate."

But Bokuto had already laid hold of your arm with no intent of letting go.

"Stay!" Bokuto called out, repeating it with please and listen despite your outcries, shouting for Kaori and Yuki and Mako and Shigeru and Takami and Coach and Koyoma and anyone, help me, anyone.

Until he tugged you to his chest, wrapping himself around you and turning his entire body into a concrete prison as he fervently told you, "I love you. I love you so much ever since the first time I saw you and I know, I know you feel the same so if it's the distance that's keeping you from me I can come to you I'll follo-"

"Nothing's keeping me from jackshit!" you gritted out. "I don't love you! I don't even care about you!"

He didn't say anything to that.

Bokuto had gone quiet. It wasn't only until he nuzzled your neck, pressing his face snugly down the crook, that you decided to kick him with all your strength, breaking yourself free as your heart thundered out of your chest.

You didn't look back.

You dashed through the long, endless hallway with the air in your lungs dangerously running low and keeping you from screaming.

But the remnants of the alcohol were lead that weighed your feet to the ground, betraying you further by morphing your surroundings into a hazy, dizzying scape. You teetered and wobbled, desperate to reach that staircase that will lead you out of this floor, but each step that you took was not fast enough, not nimble enough, as if you’re wading through knee-deep water.

And before you know it the monster has caught up and is ready to pounce from right behind you.

“Get your hands off me!” you wailed as Bokuto heaved you by the waist and carried you over his shoulder.

The sudden upending of your world was so nauseating, you didn’t even notice that he’d already taken you to an almost pitch black classroom, its heavy curtains drawn together and the empty chairs and tables pushed to the side.

His large, sprawling hand was gripping your ass, your stomach lurching when you felt him caress it. Yet that didn’t deter you from hitting whichever part of him that your knuckles and feet could touch, ignoring the trail of your own spit that dripped on your face as you howled and thrashed and fought to keep yourself together because no one was hearing you.

What’s left for you, now? Your captor was so strong, much stronger than you, that even when he tripped on his toes, Bokuto was able to catch himself and drop you on the nearest table in just a single breath.

“Stop fighting me..!” he panted, holding you down as he knelt before you. “I’m not gonna hurt you! I- ow! Don’t-”

Bokuto’s grip on your wrists was unbudgeable. So, you didn’t miss the chance to bite him when he covered your mouth with his palm. Teeth chattering, you broke the tough flesh, sunk them sharply until the taste of salt and iron flooded your tongue.

You expected that it would push him away. Give you the leverage to escape.

That turned out to be a mistake.

His honey-gold eyes glinted as he stared deep into yours. Every hair on your body stood on end when the corners of his lips slowly lifted, eyes still fixed on you as he released a bubbly, childlike laughter.

“I've always wanted to do this to you," he sighed giddily.

The helplessness chipped at your insides bit by torturous bit when all you could do was rock the table with your flailing, while Bokuto had already crouched lower— low enough to pull the hem of your thin shorts with his teeth.

He watched you weep with a sickening display of dejection, like he's some dog that's been shoved around by his master.

"Please don't cry," Bokuto whined, peppering soft kisses all over the insides of your thighs then licking off the beads of sweat that covered the goosebumps.

You’re not giving up.

You couldn’t give up.

You pushed and gnawed and tore skin that you’re sure every inch of his palm is littered with fresh bruises, but this only seemed to encourage Bokuto, drawing out his drugged out moans as he spat on your clothed cunt, drool leaking down to your folds before he lapped at the wet spot. The moistened fabric scratched and rubbed against your clit to the point of quivering and writhing in his clutch.

“Oh, I know , baby,” Bokuto murmured, using the tip of his tongue to flick at the swollen nub. “I’ll make you feel real good soon.”

Shaking your head, the unwiped tears gathering around your eyelids dropped to his long, calloused fingers. And you wanted to screech, to tell him to go to hell as he swirled his tongue all over your embarrassingly slick hole.

No, you wanted more than that.

You wanted to drive your bare hands into his chest.

But that’s not what you did, is it?

When Bokuto finally removed his hand from your mouth, what slipped past your lips wasn’t the sound of a woman ready to kill. Instead, you sounded like a little girl begging to be carried home. And that hadn’t been the part that scared you, really.

It was the fact that no matter how much you tried to scream, nothing was coming out.

“L-let me go,” you wheezed, your voice cracking. “Or- or else.”

“Or else?” Bokuto replied, eliciting a gasp from you as he sniffed your throbbing, wet cunt. “Look at me, princess.”

“ Look at me ,” he repeated pleadingly, frustration giving his tone a rough edge, as he brought the hand that once suppressed your attempts to call for help to skim past your thigh and stroke the sole of your feet. “Just this once. See me.”

You kept your eyes closed, even as he kissed your toes and brought it down to his crotch, forcing you to dig your heel into the bulge jutting out. He rocked his hips, gyrating slowly, his cock hardening under your feet, as he whimpered into your leg.

“Please, please fuck me, please ,” Bokuto mewled. “I’ll do any- anything for you.”

Profanities rushed out of you, but no one could hear them. Not even you. Perhaps that's why he didn’t flinch when he lugged you down to straddle on his lap.

“Use me, baby,” he whispered, grinning wide as he snaked his other hand to your back and dug his nails around your nape, laying on his back and taking you with him as he did, your tits crushed to his chest.

With your arms dying in his grip, Bokuto easily stripped his pants along with his boxers. Violent trembles wracked your body as he dragged your pussy along his thick shaft, back and forth, your damp panties riding up every time he thrusted upwards.

His hot breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine as he giggled lowly, “Wanna cum inside you so fucking bad . Will you let me, hm? Please let me.”

Of course you didn’t want to. It’s not like you’d stop struggling, either. It’s just that Bokuto would never listen to you. Even when he whimpered and babbled, “You don’t want to- fuck, your pussy’s all nice and wet - oh, you don’t want to? That's okay, that’s okay, baby,” Bokuto still slipped his cock inside your underwear.

It slid past your lips up to your clit. And you’d never hated yourself more in your entire life when all you could do was stay limp and cry as the fat tip finally nudged your twitching hole.

“No, no, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck, “It’s just the head- just the head.”

As Bokuto groaned and rutted against you, all you wished for, in that moment, was for dawn to peek through the curtains and signal the end of this torment. But, still it went on with Bokuto stretching you open.

And as he split you in half, you detachedly realized that you were right.

This place did eat you alive.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere bokuto kotaro

343 notes · View notes

redhead-batgal · 3 years

Text

Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Fem! and Vigilante! Reader x Jason Todd/ Red hood

Content: cursing, a claustrophobic reader, little bit of angst, some fluff and a bit of violence

Y/N: Your Name, L/N: Last Name, V/N: Vigilante Name

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

Angry wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how you were feeling. Enraged, infuriated and pissed off came close but not close enough. This feeling was so strong and so vivid you could practically see it, hell you could probably taste it.

Unlike how most people describe anger, yours wasn’t a red. No it was white, an icy hot white that seemed to drench every single one of your senses. White was in the corners of your vision, It was clinging to every single sound, it was in each smell, sharp and clear. You could feel it dancing on your skin like electricity, it covered your tongue and coated your cheeks.

It was everywhere.

And at the moment the icy white seemed to be invading your lungs and slowly turning into a dark black. Such a dark and dense color it began to be hard to breathe. You were in fact in the last place you’d like to be at the moment. Which just so happened to be locked in a closet.

It didn’t help that you weren’t alone. While yes, being alone would mean you would have to go through it alone. Go through the feeling of all the walls closing in on you as the air gets thinner and your head begins to spin as your brain fries from panic, as your entire body began to spasm and you blacked out from hyperventilating. But at the moment you would have preferred to be alone rather then let him, see you go through all of that. It was bad enough he had seen you slip up the week before while on patrol.

You had been patrolling with Batgirl and Black Bat, this was usually what you did. Since you didn’t get along very well with Robin, and Red Robin, well he scared you a tiny bit due to one patrol in which you saw him consume ungodly amounts of caffeine. You couldn’t keep up with Nightwing and were informed by Robin that Batman thought you talked to much. Batgirl and Black Bat seemed to to be the perfect fit.

However on the night in question you sort of wished they hadn’t been. It would have been easier to explain why you messed up and he wouldn’t be able to hold it over your head. It had been a dumb move but you were bored, patrol had been relatively quiet with Black Bat taking care of nearly any threat that appeared before you or Batgirl could even respond to the comm. Oracle had just informed the three of you to be on the look out for Penguin. He had been recently making many trips to a abandon warehouse. The three of you had been asked to make sure nothing happened. Of course you decided that divvying up assignments would be perfect so all three of you could see some action. Neither Black Bat nor Batgirl had argued so you each took an area to watch.

It had nearly been an hour since you had spilt up. There was no action on your end. You had just begun to give up hope when

“I see Penguin,” Batgirl whispered into the comm.

Excitement coursed over your veins and you found yourself bouncing up and down, you nearly threw yourself across the rooftops so you could join Batgirl in the fight. However-

“It looks as if he’s just casing the place... somethings off. What do you say Black Bat? Is something off?”

You didn’t want to hear that, Penguin was here, obviously something was happening more then likely it was illegal and you were itching to punch someone, Shaking your head you bounced from the balls of your feet to your heels.

One click came over the comm from Black Bat. She, agreed with Batgirl, leaving you the odd man out... well odd woman.

“I think we should just wait for now,” Batgirl remarked.

Begrudgingly you agreed, at the moment nothing was happening and you knew that if you charged in fists swinging and weapons raised Batman would have your head.

“Fine.” You sighed

It took you a minute but you moved yourself so that you could watch Penguin without “technically” leaving your post. Penguin stood a couple hundred feet from the door to the warehouse, surrounding him was close to twenty goons. He appeared to be talking to them and looking at his watch, suddenly one of the goons stepped up to him and whispered in his ear. Penguin nodded and waved a hand. All of the goons including himself began to move into the warehouse.

There were upsides and down sides to this.

Downside number one: You couldn’t see them anymore

Downside number two: This could be a trap

However there were more upsides then down.

Upside number one: You got to move into the warehouse

Upside number two: More then likely this was some kind of deal going down and you would get to punch a dude in the face

Upside number three: You were finally gonna see some action.

Lowering yourself into a crouch you quickly spoke into the comm.

“I’m gonna go in.” “V/N, don’t. Something about this doesn’t seem right.”

“I’ll be fine, besides how else are we supposed to see what’s going on?”

There wasn’t a reply, though your weren’t really paying attention close enough to notice. You had begun bounding your way towards an open window you had spotted earlier while scanning the perimeter of the building. You vaulted in through the window just barely making it; internally you thanked Nightwing for insisting upon doing acrobatics for part of your training and made a mental note to ask him for some more lessons later.

The warehouse wasn’t completely empty, it had two levels, the top was covered in boxes filled with packing peanuts. You briefly remembered Red Robin saying something about this place being owned by a former packing company, however at the time you weren’t really paying attention. In your defense Red Robin, at the time, had an mini army of at least fifty cups of empty coffee at his feet.

Creeping past the boxes you settled yourself in between two large ones watching at Penguin and his goons stood in the middle of the room.

“Where is he boss? Didn’t he say he’d be here?” One of the goons asked with a slight sneer.

Another rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show, would make the boss look like an even bigger idiot.”

Penguin shot the man a look then he raised his umbrella, opened it slightly and a gunshot rang out. The goon fell down dead, a tense feeling came over you however, instead of jumping down and trying to apprehend him you stayed where you were. Someone else was coming, you may be impulsive at times but you weren’t a complete idiot.

It wasn’t long before you heard doors open, it hadn’t occurred to you that the comms might not be working, you just thought that Black Bat and Batgirl were just either hiding as well somewhere in the warehouse or were waiting for you to say something.

You can’t say that you weren’t surprised when you saw him. As far as you heard he was going straight, hell you where then when he told Batman himself that he was going to follow the Bat rules. You wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did, but seeing Red Hood walk into the warehouse stopping just before the center felt like someone shot you.

He was alone and you could tell from his body language that this wasn’t exactly a friendly meeting, that and the fact that all of Penguin’s goons drew there weapons at the sight of him.

“You rang?” Red Hood remarked.

Penguin narrowed his eyes and looked Red Hood over. He lowered his umbrella and took a step forwards.

“You came alone?”

“Does it look like I have backup?”

Penguin didn’t reply, he just looked up and began to look around the second floor. For a moment you thought he spotted you, but he kept scanning the floor. After looking it all over he looked back to Red Hood, then remarked,

“Search it.”

Your stomach dropped and you knew you had to get out of there, normally you wouldn’t mind jumping into a fight, but Red Hood’s business was his own. No matter how much it hurt and no matter how much you wanted to know, it was none of your business.

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet you waited until Penguin’s goons began to climb the stairs. Turning to go back the way you came you found yourself face to face with Scarecrow.

Of course it just had to be Scarecrow, the one villain who had a toxin that could leave nearly everyone incapacitated.

“Shit.”

Scarecrow laughed slightly remarking, “What do we have here?”

The next thing you knew something was being sprayed in your face. Instinctively you backed away from the liquid coming at you. Taking four steps back you suddenly noticed that the ground wasn’t beneath your foot anymore. Then you stumbled backwards and began to fall.

After that everything was a blur, you faintly remember hearing Red Hood shout,

“Damn it.”

Before everything disappeared and the nightmares took over. You awoke the next morning only to discover that had it not been for Red Hood you would have died. A rookie mistake, Scarecrow had snuck past into the warehouse as you were watching Penguin. Had you been paying attention to your surroundings instead of trying to find a reason to jump into the fight, you wouldn’t have been caught so off guard.

Not paying attention to your surroundings also got you into the mess you were currently in.

You, had been avoiding him, Red Hood- Jason Todd ,for the past few days. Not only was it embarrassing that you made such a dumb mistake but, the fact that you had to be rescued got under your skin. You prided yourself on not being a damsel in distress yet it seemed that you had times where you were one. It didn’t help that you felt violently angry at him, he was supposed to be going straight and yet he was meeting up with Penguin and Scarecrow. Every time you saw him you turned and nearly ran in the either direction. It had been working just fine until this evening.

You had been in the library of Wayne manor, grabbing a book off the shelf when Jason came in. Seeing him you felt a sharp spark of white anger, however instead of acknowledging his presence you decided to ignore him. A poor choice really, a petty one, and at the moment you didn’t care.

You began to browse the shelves when you spotted him moving towards you. Continuing to ignore him you moved down the aisle. He followed and you turned sharply moving into the next aisle.

“Y/N.”

You almost looked up, you almost blew it, however after many months of ignoring a persistent Tim Drake and an even more persistent Damian Wayne, you learned how to ignore someone when they called your name.

Moving down the aisle towards the back of the library, you should have noticed Tim loitering in the corner and Dick at the very end of the last aisle. But you didn’t, you were too keen on keeping away from Jason.

“Y/N, are you seriously avoiding me?”

You couldn’t keep it together, every fiber of your being wanted to shout YES, Yes! of course. Why wouldn’t you be avoiding him, you were angry with him, so very righteously angry... or so you thought.

You made it to the end of the aisle and you stopped, had you been paying attention you would have noticed the open door just behind you and how Tim was right behind Jason as he got closer. You went to leave, to move to yet another aisle when Dick moved into your path.

You side-stepped in a hope to slip past him but he followed you. Letting out a frustrated grunt you gave him a slight glare.

“Move Dick, I need to get pass.”

“Sorry Y/N, but no.”

You blinked and raised an eyebrow in confusion, Dick took a step forwards and took the books from your arms. You opened your mouth to shout protests when he shoved you straight into the room behind you. Your back bounced against the wall and your stomach flipped as you realized it was a closet. A second later you saw Jason stumbling towards you.

It seemed that he too got shoved into the closet, he slammed into you and you once again hit the back wall. The door slammed shut and you heard a faint click. Your stomach dropped and suddenly everything was dark.

“You two,” Dick remarked from the other side of the door, “are going to make up and you are not coming out of there until you do.”

You felt Jason pull away from you and then heard quiet cursing's. A light flickered on and you saw how small the room was, it was just the two of you alone together in a very tiny room. All the air went from your lungs and it began. You sank to the ground as the world around you began to spin.

Instantly Jason was sitting across from you not fully seeming to understand you were having a panic attack. And that lead up to this moment the anger was being taken over by the panic. Your hands were shaking and you eyes closed, you could feel his gaze on you as you tried to steady your breathing. But everything was spinning and the enclosing walls followed you, dancing on your eyelids as you felt your empty stomach revolt against you. Had you eaten something you would probably be hurling it up. Instead your entire body shook as you pushed back dry-heaving's.

Clenching your fists you let your nails dig into your skin trying your hardest to let the pain yank you out of the attack. But as your palms became slick with blood nothing happened. Opening your eyes you felt a fierce wave of panic come over you as you frantically looked around, trying your hardest to find your way out.

You wanted to lunged towards the door, but you were stuck. The room was so small, you could feel Jason’s legs pressed against yours, your heart began to beat erratically and you swung a bleeding fist towards the door. Weakly banging against it you wanted to cry out but the words caught in your throat. So you decided to try and bang your fist against any and every thing you could, starting with the walls that seemed to be getting closer and closer with every breath.

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart calm down,” Jason remarked grabbing onto your wrist.

You shook your head feeling tears beginning to form in your eyes, hands shaking even harder you felt your entire body begin to shutter. Squeezing your eyes shut you choked back sobs. Pressing your fists your eyes you tried to force back the tears. A heavy feeling cloaked your lungs and it felt as though you were trying to swallow a brick.

You felt hands on your wrists, gently pulling them away from your face. Your eyes flew open and you began to once again look around erratically.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, “hey Y/N, look at me. Hey look at me, Y/N.”

You forced yourself to focus on Jason, he locked gazes with you and then you tried to continue to look for a way out.

“Eyes on me doll,” He stated and you looked back at him, “that’s it, Atta-girl. Now breathe with me, innnnn and outtt.”

He slowly began to breath and you took a deep breath in keeping your eyes on him, then let it out. Jason nodded and you breathed with him for a little while, slowly calming down ever so slightly. Still shaking however much calmer, he let go of your wrists and you clench your fists again.

“Your safe, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get us out of here alright?”

At first you didn’t respond, then Jason pressed his forehead against yours and you could see his eyes, you were closer then you’ve ever been before. They were a pretty color, a greenish-blue, though at the moment they looked more green then blue. You also noticed how he had very light freckles across his cheekbones. If you weren’t freaking out you would have blushed, been embarrassed by how close he was, you would have probably taken a mental note about the freckles and how beautiful his eyes were. However, all you could think about was how small the room was.

Very gently touching your forearms, Jason stared you dead in the eyes. “Alright?”

You could only nod and grab onto his shirt in return. He blinked for a moment before his hand was off of your arm and around your waist.

“Is this-”

You nodded once again before he could finish his question, he pulled you in closer, your legs squishing against each others as you pressed you head against his chest and closed you eyes. All you wanted was to get out of there, to be able to breathe and stop panicking. You felt Jason pull you into his lap and then he began banging on the door.

“I swear to fuck that if you to dumbasses don’t open up this damn door I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

You could hear Tim and Dick quietly talking on the other side of the door. Probably contemplating whether or not they should open up. Merely thinking about the door make your heart pick up pace again and your restarted breathing quickly. Jason hesitated before he banged on the door again shouting,

“If you don’t open this door right fucking now, I’m going to break it down.”

You heard cursing coming from the other side of the door and then a click, your eyes flew open and you watched as the door swung open. Lunging forwards you tumbled out of the closet. Air filled your lungs but you didn't stop there. No, you scrambled to your feet and went barreling out of the library down the stairs and out the door. Once you made it outside you took a deep breath in, fresh air sharply stung your lungs and you nearly collapsed into the grass crying with relief.

It had been a lesson of sorts for you, learn to watch your surroundings... and don’t assume things. You didn’t exactly know what was going on at the warehouse but you did know that despite your previous disbelief, you believed Jason. He was going straight now, staying clean and following Bruce’s rules. Because there was no way he could be nice enough to help you through a panic attack, get you out of a closet and... save your life all while being bad and killing people.

Though you’d never admit it, you might be a little biased, after all you might have a teeny, tiny, eensy-weensy little crush on him. It didn’t help that you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, of course it wouldn’t be locked in a closet but... it wasn’t so bad. Being alone together.

Blinking you lay down on the grass staring up at the sky, there were no walls here to come in on you, nothing really to suffocate you. Closing your eyes you took in deep breaths and let them out. You heard the sound of a door opening and the grass crunching slightly. Opening your eyes you saw Jason standing above you.

“You okay?”

“Much better now, thank you.” You replied taking in yet another breath

He nodded and looked as if he were about to turn and go when he let out a sigh. Closing your eyes you waited to hear the sound of him leaving, it never happened. Peeking an eye open you found him staring at you.

“You know Penguin asked to meet with me that night. He said it was a peace meeting… turns out he and Scarecrow planned to ambush me.”

You blinked in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you saw him in the warehouse and as far as you were concerned everyone thought he just swooped in and rescued you. Something you suddenly realized he was doing a lot of. Why was he explaining what happened to you.

“You didn’t have to tell me that,” You began as you gave him a confused look, “it’s not really my business.”

Jason shrugged then rubbed the back of his head. Nodding he remarked,

“Yeah, but I just thought you should know I am going straight. Following the old man’s rules and all.”

This only confused you more.

“Why? I didn’t tell anyone that you were meeting Penguin, and I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jason shrugged as he turned to leave, pausing for a moment he sighed.

“I don’t know doll, I just don’t like the idea of you seeing me as a bad guy.”

A weird feeling began in your chest, it wasn’t like butterflies or any kind of fluttery things. It was a warm and soft kind of feeling.

Smiling up at him you rolled your eyes and said,

“Well Jason Todd, I could never see you as a bad guy.”

He blinked and then smiled back shaking his head.

“That makes me very happy, Y/N L/N.”

With that he walked away and the warm feeling began to spread from your chest throughout your entire body all the way down to your toes and up to your ears.

It seemed it wasn’t as small of a crush as you wanted to believe. Feeling a slight blush begin on your cheeks, you covered your face as you realized being alone with him wouldn’t be so bad. As long as you were alone together

138 notes · View notes

jeongjaebae · 3 years

Text

To the boy I’ve always loved

⇢ Younghoon x reader, 1.3k, fluff fluff fluff, best friends to lovers!!!!!

⇢ Out of the five letters you send to your past crushes, somehow only one makes its way to its recipient.

"There's no response from any of them," you sigh. "Was it too much to expect a reply? Maybe I'm just not likable."

Younghoon nods at your words from where he's walking home by your side but doesn't say anything. He's strangely quiet but it's not unusual since he never seems to be very interested in your love life, often choosing to remain silent or react with very short acknowledgements before changing the subject.

So you had been quite surprised that he was the one to suggest the idea of sending out letters to your past crushes in the first place. And perhaps that had been a big part of the reason you'd actually went ahead with filling pages with nostalgic memories of the past and brief moments in time when there may have been a spark between you and these people. But it wasn't anything too deep as there hadn't been anyone you really had feelings for in the past; you mainly just sent them for the sake of wanting to experience what's it's like being the main character for once in your life.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Younghoon says slowly. His gaze was trained forward though you knew your best friend well enough to see that there was something on his mind.

"It was just for fun," you shrug. "No harm done if they don't reply, and if they do, we can see how to go from there."

It was definitely nerve-wracking waiting for a response though.

You'd been afraid that it would be awkward in class today since you delivered Juyeon's letter a couple of days ago, however the guy hadn't even spared a glance at you. If anything, it seemed like he hadn't read the letter at all. Maybe that was a good thing because then he wouldn't know about how you'd found him cute since fourth grade and briefly liked him after he helped you up when you'd fallen off the monkey bars. It was a nice memory, even more so when Younghoon had bought you ice cream afterwards.

"Were you hoping any of them would reply?"

"Hmm." You sneak a glance at him to see that his lips are pressed, brows furrowed. "Maybe one of them."

If Sunwoo had read his, there was no indication at all today as he made faces at you in calculus when the teacher wasn't looking. Maybe it was better that he didn't find out your friendly academic rivalry had made you feel some type of way at some point, and that you didn't actually need the hours of study sessions you spent with him. After all, your best friend was already the best study buddy you could have.

"Y/N..."

"Hmm?"

There was no way of knowing whether Hyunjae and Eric read the letters you delivered to them, but it's been a few days and there's only been radio silence as your answer so far.

Younghoon sighs and finally turns to you as the two of you approach his house. "Y/N, it's not you. You're likable, okay? They just... haven't read the letters."

"How would you know that?"

His eyes wander as he hesitates to answer, but you already had a feeling what he was going to say. "Because I—I stole them," he finally says. "The letters. I stole them from their porches before they could be read."

"But you literally told me to send these letters," you say, confused that your best friend would act in such a way. Couldn't he just be supportive of your non-existent love life for once? It seemed like every time you had something borderline romantic going on in your life, he'd be the one to ruin it if it hadn't been already ruined by you first. "So why are you going back on your words now? Why would you do such a thing?"

"I—I didn't want you to get hurt," he says softly. His eyes meet yours briefly before they flicker away. "The suggestion was just a joke anyways; I didn't think you'd actually send them out."

"Younghoon, I'm your best friend, not your little sister. You don't have to protect me from getting hurt. Besides, pain is just part of the experience. How am I supposed to live out this main character life if it doesn't fully encompass all the emotions?"

"You're right. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." He reaches into his bag and pulls out the four envelopes with the names written in your neat scrawl. "I only managed to get back four of the five letters though, so you might still get a response from the last person."

You sigh, taking the letters from him and quickly stuffing them in your bag.

Maybe it was a terrible idea after all. Things don't usually turn out like in fictional books and movies anyways, so maybe this was meant to happen to save you from a lifetime of embarrassment. Now that you think about it, you didn't even want to imagine the way Sunwoo would clown you if he ever read your letter.

"No, maybe you're right," you say, "I don't think I'll send these after all... they're too cringe-worthy."

"Really?" Younghoon looks up at you in surprise. "No, Y/N, I really didn't mean to stop you but it's just that I've liked—"

Even if you were avoiding his gaze, you're aware of the exact moment he looks behind you and sees the last white envelope sitting on the sill of his window by the porch. The one with his name written in a font all too familiar as it was identical to the rest of the letters that he's already seen.

"Yeah, um. The four letters that you took were mostly just for fun. The one that you didn't take is the one I was hoping to get a response from the most..." you trail off.

He goes to pick it up carefully and glances at you with wide eyes. There's some surprise there but you could see the ways his face lights up and his body sags with relief as he takes out the letter.

As his eyes skim over the page, you know that he's recalling all of the memories you'd shared over the years. Spending summers at the local playground as kids, awkward middle school dances, how he went from being the same height as you to much taller now. The realization that the reason you couldn't crush on anyone else was because the right one was beside you the entire time.

The other letters are probably crushed when your bag falls to the ground and he's so close as he always is, but it feels different than before. Maybe it's felt different for a while now, but you find yourself wondering when he became so attractive, when his familiar face and presence became something that wasn't familiar at all with the way you felt slightly strange as the butterflies fluttered in your stomach and in your heart.

"You beat me to it," Younghoon says when he looks up. "I was planning on telling you first, but I just didn't know how. Y/N, maybe it was selfish, but this was the reason why I stole your letters. I've liked you for so long and just didn't want to see you falling for someone else."

"Did you not expect a letter? I thought you told me to send them just so that you might get one," you tease. The nervous pounding of your heart shifts into a bud of hope at his words and you can't help the way your lips curl upwards.

"Ah, I was indeed hoping for one but didn't think it would actually happen."

"You don't need to steal letters when you've already stolen my heart."

And when his eyes curve as he smiles and it warms you like the sun on your face, you know that the other letters didn't matter, never mattered when this was the only letter worth sending at all.

#younghoon fic #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #younghoon fluff #tbz fic #tbz x reader #kim younghoon #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #younghoon x reader #tbz x you #tatb au #just some more writing practice~#ayeee slowly getting back into writing short things #don't @ me for the 16k coming up #my fic

167 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Hey, if you take requests, can I ask Eric x Reader where he’s obsessed with her? Ps. "Stiff, huh?" Is so intense ... Eric is wow

I do take requests! Thank you for leaving this, it was fun to write! I hope this is alright! And I'm glad you enjoyed the other fic 😊💛💛

I'll Cover You.

Eric Coulter x reader

Warnings: swearing, injury, blood, violence, gun use

Masterlist

A yelp inadvertently escapes me as a sharp bolt of pain goes through my right hand, my punch falling short as I flinch back in surprise. Biting my lip, I shake my hand, glancing around at the other initiates nearby, thankful that no one has noticed my brief moment of weakness. Discreetly, I unfold my fist and examine it, trying to discern exactly what caused the sudden discomfort, looking over the purple bruising dusting my knuckles, as well as the grazes adorning the same areas. I frown, unsure of what happened. Shaking it off, I simply get back into position and go to strike the punchbag again, tensing my core before I do anything.

A stern voice interrupts me, however, as a familiar figure steps up beside me.

"Take your thumb out of your fist, initiate." Eric commands, staring me down with his icy blue eyes.

"S-sorry?" I stutter, unsure of what he means as I look down at my fists.

He rolls his eyes and sighs, forming a fist with his own hand.

"Like this. It's not hard." He shows me, gesturing to my own hands.

Trying not to look at his bulging muscles, I observe his hand and copy it, only now realising what he meant.

"Never punch with your thumb in your fist, or you'll end up breaking it. Wouldn't be a great start, would it?" Are his only words before he stalks off, going to watch over some other initiate, leaving me blinking in his wake.

Keeping my hands as he showed me, I start beating the bag again, ignoring the slight stinging from the grazes as I work on the efficiency of my blows. With each punch, I make sure to hold my composure, stepping back from the bag as if my opponent were retaliating, keeping my eyes trained on it, so much so that I completely zone out the area around me. That is until I hear my name being called.

"(Y/n)! Kai! In the ring, now!" Eric orders us, voice resonating around the training area as it always does, his authority lacing his tone.

Swallowing nervously, I cautiously walk over to the raised platform, terrified at the thought of facing off with this particular initiate. People stare as I climb up, their eyes roaming over my body critically, comparing me with the hugely muscular boy across from me. Kai is massive in every sense of the word: bulging muscular arms, visibly toned torso, thighs like pillars and with a towering height that looms over the tallest of people. Surprisingly, however, his personality is much softer, the guy being relatively friendly with everyone, only really using his strength (gained from hard work in the Amity fields) for good use; he almost always apologizes for hurting someone. As I square up to him, I feel myself becoming more and more nervous by the minute, his fists easily the size of two of mine, but I ignore the rising sense of dread and wait for Eric to start us off.

"Go." The leader simply grunts, watching closely as we start circling each other.

Controlling my breathing, I move my weight onto the balls of my feet and hold my arms over my body, providing some protection from the oncoming onslaught of blows. Judging his step, I make eye contact with Kai briefly before suddenly ducking into his space and jabbing my fist out at his lower abdomen, striking his rock-hard abs with some force. Instantly, I recoil back out of reach, prepared for some form of retaliation in reaction to the blow, somewhat surprised when he shows minimal pain. Distracted by this, I quickly receive a blow to the stomach, having left it unguarded from my previous attack, the breath leaving me as his knuckles make contact. Grunting, I stumble backwards, ducking over my body to protect myself, only to accidentally make myself into an easier target as he grabs hold of my head and smashes my face into his lifted knee. Tears spring to my eyes as my nose audibly crunches, blood starting to pour from it as I begin to lose some focus, the pain raising in my face very disconcerting.

With my head still in his hands, I feel him lift it again for yet another blow with his knee, my mind racing as I jerk out my arm and jab it into the space between his thighs. A grunt escapes him at this, instinctively releasing me as he goes to protect his intimate regions. Relieved, I slip out of his reach and readjust, taking note of his slightly hunched position. Moving swiftly, I get closer and swing my leg round in a sharp kick to his jaw, throwing his head to the side painfully, the muscular boy spitting out a mouthful of blood as he goes, one of his teeth coming loose from the sudden impact. Triumphant, I go to repeat the action, only to find my leg grabbed by him, his hand closing around my limb tightly. Smirking, he quickly uses this hold on my leg to pull my feet out from under me, easily throwing me over his shoulder and smashing me into the ground, pain blossoming in my chest as it collides. Winded, I lie there, only just managing to twist onto my back as he lifts a foot over my head, ready to kick me into unconsciousness.

"Stop." Eric's cool voice interrupts us both, breaking through the haze.

Both our heads snap round to look at him, my vision spinning as I do so, confused as I stare at our leader through blurry eyes.

"Go to the infirmary and get yourselves fixed up. Now." He commands us, turning away from us and going to stand a little way away.

As soon as his back is turned, Kai crouches down to my level and offers me a hand, grey eyes clouded with concern.

"You alright? I'm sorry, I went too far." He says, helping me upright, slipping his arm around my back and lending me his shoulder to get me walking.

"It's fine, Kai, don't worry. It's what we're supposed to do, after all. I'm sorry about hitting you...there." I apologise, wincing as my chest heaves slightly, my ribs clearly bruised.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine."

As we walk, neither of us notice Eric's eyes following us out of the room.

For once, I don't barely climb onto the train as I speeds by, my arms somehow managing to pull me inside with time to spare, a smile working its way onto my face in triumph. Usually, I seem to struggle with having the distance, but tonight I managed it with some ease, meaning I didn't have to embarrass myself under the watchful eyes of Eric, who stares down at me as I straighten again. As always, his face is blank, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his muscles straining under the fabric of his coat. Suppressing the smile on my face, I bite my lip and look away, ignoring the slight twitch of his brow as he looks me over, eyeing me carefully as I go to stand with Kai, who has quickly become a good friend of mine, the huge boy turning out to be very caring and enjoyable to have around.

"Where do you think we're going?" The brunette asks me as I go to lean on the wall beside him.

Shrugging, I watch as the rest of the initiates join us, the Dauntless-born easily springing onto the moving train whilst the others, like Kai and I, struggle a little. Four is last to hop up, as always.

"I don't know." I inform my friend, looking to the bags at Eric's feet.

"Well, if you wait patiently, you might just find out." Eric suddenly bites out, his gaze fixed on the two of us.

Surprised, we both now, exchanging a glance between us.

"Oops." I mutter to him, falling silent as we watch the leader step forwards into the middle of the initiates.

"We're gonna play some Capture the Flag tonight. Four and I will each lead a team, each of which hides a flag and has to defend it. First team to get the opposing flag wins." He explains briefly, bending to unzip one of the bags at his feet, pulling out a type of gun I've never seen before, "You'll each get one of these. They're loaded with neurostim darts, which will simulate the pain of a gunshot wound without actually injuring you. They hurt like a bitch, so watch yourselves."

As he says this, Eric allows his eyes to fall on Kai and I, narrowing them as he finds my friend.

"Ok, Eric and I will now pick our teams. Eric will go first." Four chips in, gesturing for the leader to start.

"I'll take (Y/n)." He chooses, staring at me as I double take in surprise. Dumbfounded, I nod once, signifying that I heard him.

Four appears surprised momentarily, before he blinks and chooses one of the Dauntless-born.

Five minutes later and we've all been picked for a team, each of us sidling over towards our corresponding team leader as the train starts to come to a slowed pace. Kai was picked for Four's team, so I shoot him one last look before going to stand with the rest of Eric's team, taking one of the proffered guns and comfortably resting it against my hip, keeping the safety on for now. Looking up, I make eye contact with the stern leader, just catching his eye before he quickly glances away, saying something to Four as we prepare to leave the train, having been told to do so.

Without warning, Eric and Four throw themselves from the vehicle, landing somewhere in the darkness as the rest of us follow hastily, unwilling to be left on the train. Slinging the gun over my shoulder, I launch myself into the black night, my feet colliding with the ground seconds later, causing me to roll to absorb the shock, my hands scraping slightly on the uneven gravel. I'm quick to right myself, however, taking the gun off of my shoulder as I take out my torch and light it, easily locating Eric and going to stand with him. The rest of the team joins us and we leave the main area, walking for a few minutes until Eric stops.

"We'll need a tactic. Four is good at this, but I've beaten him most times so we need to make sure we don't lose to him tonight, got it?" The leader briefs us, holding out the luminescent flag to one of the Dauntless-born, "Go hide this in that old ticket booth over there. It's easy enough to defend and it's hard for them to find. The rest of you, find somewhere to hide around it. (Y/n), you're coming with me."

Surprised, I look at him but agree anyway, glad to have some alone time with the leader, watching as he elects one of the more experienced initiates to take charge of the defending team, before he signals for me to follow him. Taking the safety off my gun, I do so, keeping my footfall light and gentle, staying low to the ground to avoid being seen. Eric does the same, his movements calculated and practiced, his muscular frame somehow managing to step stealthily over the uneven ground.

"What did you want me for?" I hiss at him, keeping an eye out for any attackers.

"I need you to climb that tower and locate their flag. And you have the best aim, so I'm gonna need you to snipe out any guards if you can, so that you can then go in and get it." He whispers back, pointing to a nearby tower.

Frowning, I go to respond.

"And what about you?"

"I'll cover you, obviously." He replies matter-of-factly.

"Right."

As we approach the tower, he breaks off and goes to hide behind a nearby dumpster, reinforcing his plan to me as he does so, expecting me to scale the riveted wall of the abandoned structure by hand. Swallowing, I replace the gun over my shoulders and look over the rough surface before me, wondering how the hell I'm ever going to pull this off. Finding a handhold, I start ascending, using the marks to my advantage as I hoist myself higher and higher, ignoring the aching protests of my arms. Grazes litter my fingertips, my muscles trembling with each pull up, the gun knocking gently against my lower back.

It takes me a few minutes, but soon I'm high enough that I can see the area around us, my eyes roaming the dark area with scrutiny, looking out for the fluorescent flag. I spot it easily, the colourful fabric glowing brightly on top of another nearby tower, just a little way away, a figure guarding it alone, though there are most likely others at the base of the structure.

A sudden cry of pain snaps my attention down to the ground again, my eyes swiftly finding the silhouette of a body lying on the floor, Eric swiftly moving out to make sure the threat stays down, his fun levelled in preparation. Upon seeing this, I start climbing back down, spotting another three oncoming opponents just a little way away from us, their voices somewhat raised. Taking note of this, I hasten down, managing to hop down in time to face off with the newcomers, who are faced with a swift barrage of darts. Two fall, clutching at their legs in pain, the third taking a little more to neutralize before he too drops to the floor, squirming in agony.

"You find it?" Eric questions me, secretly checking me over for any injury in the darkness, aware that he can't really see much

"Yeah, it's this way." Turning, the two of us run in the direction of the other tower, thankfully staying clear of any enemies until we reach the low wall surrounding the structure. Circling it, we soon figure out why this particular tower was chosen.

"There's only one way into the tower past this wall, and they'll all be around that area." Eric muses, stopping with his back pressed against the offending architecture, "Any ideas?"

Thinking for a minute, I eye the wall carefully.

"I think so. We didn't get shot at as we approached it, which means they must all be at the other end, or not paying any attention, so one of us could climb over the wall and get in that way, but they'd be vulnerable when they were climbing the tower." I suggest, tapping my weapon slightly.

"I said I'd cover you. You climb and I'll shoot the bastards, then I'll join you at the top." Eric confirms, gesturing for me to go.

Nodding, I make my way around to another part of the wall, starting to scale it in the darkness as I did before, hoping no one will catch me. Gritting my teeth, I haul myself over the structure and drop into the enclosed area, glad to hear the cries of alarm coming from a different part of the circle as I run over to the base of the tower. Thanking my aptitude for climbing, I start making my way up the building, trying to ignore the possibility of falling to my death as I start to get higher and higher off the ground. It takes me a little while, but I eventually manage to pull my aching limbs up and onto the balcony of the upper floor of the tower, somehow still out of sight of the guard, who is shooting at what I'm assuming is Eric down in the circle. Quietly, I slip into the shadows and ready my gun, shooting the unsuspecting initiate into the back, their sharp cry of surprise and pain resonating loudly around the room as I take up the flag and go to the open window. Leaning out, I scream out to the people below, waving it around triumphantly as a chorus of groans escapes the gathering of defenders, Eric already climbing the steps inside the tower.

Ecstatic, I shake the flag around more, happy that I may have proved myself as capable for once, my face split into a proud grin. Behind me, Eric suddenly bursts in, coming over to me with a smirk of his own.

"Congratulations, (Y/n)." He says, seemingly considering something.

"Thank you." I murmur, fighting off the blush as he stares at me, his eyes concealing a different emotion to what I was expecting.

Suddenly, he leans in and presses his lips to mine, swallowing my squeak of surprise as he starts to move with me. Cupping my face in his hand, his other at my waist, pulling me closer, Eric continues to kiss me, the sensation stirring up butterflies in my stomach, my body craving his touch as he presses himself flush against me. Briefly pulling apart for air, he manages to say something before he closes the gap again.

"God, I'm obsessed with you."

#divergent #eric coulter divergent #eric coulter #Eric Coulter imagine #Eric Coulter x reader #jai courtney

371 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky imagine #mcu fic #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe fic #marvel cinematic universe #Persephone's Symphony

153 notes · View notes

remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : point of view

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : tomorrow is something that is never promised, less so when the dead walk the Earth. being trapped for the night when a storm pours down upon you and daryl while trapped in a decrepit house by a few walkers are you sick and tired of hiding what you feel.

— warnings : some swearing, talk of potential death ( of the reader ) , a wee bit of angst that turned into more at the end :)

note: omg another daryl oneshot i gotta chill ajksajksk, but i had like seven main bullet points i made to follow when writing this and i followed like...... two, three at the most, anyways.... enjoy? this is brought to u by ariana’s discography lmao oops it does be cute at some point tho ... also felt a bit hsm with that one line at the end ahaha but fr lemme stop talking now

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requests are open ! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dark and gloomy clouds swirl over your head, blending into an extremely large and angry looking ready to descend from above. You wonder to yourself just how long you have left before the loud cracks that crumble through the air to accompany the forceful winds and pouring drops of rain are finally released. Halfway through the trip back from the town that lays after miles from the prison the car used decided it preferred to lay quietly in the middle of the road, shortly after the sickly sputters from the engine you heard Daryl mutter a few curse words. You were unable to hold in your amusement, despite the fact that a lack of transport obviously leaves you in a vulnerable position, it felt like it was your luck for that to happen to you.

It’s why you stay behind following the hunter in silence.

Studying him with focused eyes you can’t help but wonder how he never realises when you’re unable to tear your gaze away from him. In the beginning when you began to develop a certain affection for him you had been glad, for it to be too embarrassing for the thoughts you had about him in your head. In spite of this, when you realised that it was much more than a crush did you wish for him to mind read, because you have no idea just how to approach him about such a sensitive topic and while he can be tender about feelings, it’s also his downfall.

“ it’ll be gettin’ dark soon, there should be some houses down there to spend the night in. “

You stop in your tracks with a curious look that bled so suddenly into your features you had no time to stop it.

“ you don’t want to carry on? I mean, we’re not far from home? “ you question him with a hint of fear coddling your words.

“ we’d be trippin’ over our feet. Let’s back it back in one piece, yeh? “

Nodding, you regain your pace. It’s been a few months since you’d been hopping from one house to the other during that harsh winter, the bare thought of having to stay in yet another frail structure sent a chilly hand drawing its claws deeply up your spine. If you never had your group, you don’t think you would have made a winter like that, barely protected from the elements and the walkers that wished to plunge their teeth cavernously into your flesh.

“ as long as we leave as soon as the sun comes up. Please. “ you plead, your words filter off into a gentle volume from your position.

Leaves crumble and buckle underneath the weight, the sound of crickets dominate your surroundings as the two of you walk in silence. You itch to start a conversation, but the fear of distracting the man and annoying withhold the words that wish to fall from your lips, even then you don’t know how to begin. What would you say? There’s not much to talk about in a world where the dead have risen, where they wish to drag the world into decomposition.

Your wandering mind is pulled from its very own depths from a noise coming from Daryl, he’d turned to catch your attention. You both set to work attempting to enter any of the abandoned houses, hoping one had been left unlocked at some point.

Of course, luck is scarce. Despite there not being a soul who occupies them, they’re still somehow locked. Mournfully, you wonder if the owners of these homes had thought the governments and armies would eventually lock everything under their control, to the point that there would be a house for them to come back to? Your heart thuds painfully in your chest to think about what happened to them, and if they’re even still surviving.

A large thud draws you back to the present, the wooden door splinters at the force Daryl puts into a large kick to its frame.

“ well, there goes the lock. “ you mutter humourously, lifting the heavy bag higher up onto your shoulders as you walk in the open door.

“ we’ll put the couch there, stop any unfriendly types that come our way. “

“ I don’t know if there’s anyone left anymore. “ you reply, dropping the bag to the floor and moving towards the couch.

Situated on the other side of it, you grip the plush handle and lift with a struggle. It’s a strain to get it through the doorway to turn it around the corner, but eventually it happens. Daryl is joined by your presence by his side, you both push ⏤ this time it’s an easier feat with two of you on one side to dedicate your strength and weight to advance it.

As soon as you finish, a heavy crackle cuts through the air.

“ we got here just in time, huh? “

“ just about. “ he answers you, sparing a glance before moving through the lower floor ⏤ searching for anything that can be taken back to the prison.

Thunderstorms had never been your favourite thing growing up. Of course, rain was something that calmed you from the anxieties life brought, but the thunder and lightning is what you loathed. Never knowing when you were about to receive a fright from the loud rumbles and flashing lights ruined the whole experience for you.

The rustling Daryl makes is the only thing that brings you comfort in this moment, keeping you grounded and away from your thoughts. It doesn’t escape your notice that these houses feel no more than graveyards with the memories that have no use to live, instead haunting the structures with what could have been had chaos and death not taken over. You climb the stairs, hugging your sides as you refuse to touch the handrail leading up stairs.

There is a middle room with access granted without having to push open the door to gain entry. Your eyes scan the room’s interior, even with the dust and grime that bespeckle its surfaces, you can still see its beauty. Now, who does that remind you of? Your mind cheekly thinks before you banish it into the shadows of your brain, where you know it will force itself out with an immense stubbornness.

Despite the thunder booming in the distance frequently, you can’t help but admire the beauty of rain drops falling to the ground with a dainty grace only it holds. The sky continues to grow dimmer, only seeing the rain on your level and lower, no street lights flood the street to aid you in being able to see torrent from above. Jumping at another roar of sound from the storm, your heart begins to pick up its pace, so much you don’t realise Daryl joining you in the room.

“ scared? “

Turning around with such speed that leaves you surprised whiplash did not greet you, Daryl is left smirking at your reaction.

“ yeah, I hate these things. “ you respond, a bitterness coating each word heavily as you speak.

“ more than walkers? “ he questions you, as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“ well, I suppose not that much .. “ another clap of thunder interrupts you, the rain beating harder and harder on the windows of the bedroom. “ can we talk about anything? This shit really grates on my nerves. “

“ what y’wanna talk about? “

Your mind stalls, with the previous thoughts that had been swirling in a state of disorder your draw a blank. A continuous thump downstairs interrupts your shrug, speeding down the stairs you realise a few walkers are trying to enter the property, of course their lack of intelligence fails to realise they’re throwing themselves into the walls and not the blocked doors.

“ shall we take them out? “ moving closer to the lengthy curtained window next to the door to get a better look, you can see three walkers hauling themselves mindlessly against the structure.

“ nah, the storm’ll get ‘em soon enough. “ he shakes his head softly, your mind taking note of the lack of proximity between your bodies as he repeats your action. “ no need to risk ourselves. “

“ wouldn’t be the first time you’ve risked your life. “

“ s’nothin. “ he contradicts gruffly, wiping a finger across his nose at your words. He truly doesn’t view it as that, refusing to think of it as risking his life. To Daryl, it doesn’t feel like risking everything to help the people around him, it’s not something he can find the words to explain but all he knows if there’s a chance, he would do it again and again.

“ Daryl Dixon, so humble. “ you speak warmly with a gentle smile threading itself into your features. “ you need to give yourself more credit. “

“ stop. “

“ you’re as brave as anyone in the group. I’d say braver than Rick. “ you joke, setting yourself from the entryway to the sitting room. “ although, if I had to choose you and Carol .. I’m sorry, but Carol every time! “

“ damn woman frightens me. “

Laughter light in weight dances airily between you with an elegance in its movement. For even a fraction of a second you forget that there are walkers that are itching to break through into the property, that there’s an angry storm that threatens to demolish whatever stands in its path, because right now it’s only you both here and now in this one room.

“ she’s come a long way. “ you agree, pulling a lone chocolate bar from your bag. Your favourite and you’re thanking the universe that it hasn’t spoiled yet. Turns out all these preservatives and chemicals have some use after all you note to yourself as half is offered to the man standing across from you.

“ so have ‘yuh. “ he acknowledges, taking the broken half of the candy from you.

“ I think we all have to be honest. I don’t think any one of us are the people we used to be. “

“ now who’s humble? “ Daryl asks, his tone light in relaxed merriment. He’d long since taken note of the transformation you’d gone through, he’s never seen you so strong as a person before.

“ don’t you turn this round on me, Dixon. “

The two of you fall silent, you direct your gaze to the window and the raindrops that litter the window pane’s surface. The harsh noises thundered no more, leaving a calm pitter of precipitation to fall with no interruption. From your position on the second couch, you wrap around a thin decorational blanket around your arms, leaning your cheek against the palm of your hand.

Pretending the world hasn’t gone to hell, that it’s just a normal evening where you’re admiring the scene before you. Skies that weep heavily is what the Georgian greenery has been calling out for, especially since the warmer temperatures have returned in full force. Switching your line of sight to Daryl, you feel a mellowness in the pit of your stomach as you watch him fondly. You can’t be sure if it’s the lack of distractions or eyes from your group, but you feel a miniscule spark of confidence within your confines.

“ come sit down, you can relax for a bit. “ you call, trying to convince him lightly. Your hand moves to pat the seat next to you.

“ can’t relax in this world. “ despite the disagreement in his words he does move towards your position on the plush seat.

“ it doesn’t mean we can’t make it. Otherwise we’d be burnt out, I’d hate to see that happen to you. “ You divulge as you reply to him, little inklings of hope in your tone.

“ y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. “

“ but I do, Daryl. “ you groan as a dull glumness contorts your features into something new. “ I mean, the lengths you go to .. you scare me to death. “

“ don’t be dumb. “ Daryl warns lowly as he shakes his head, few have shared their vulnerability with him. Perhaps only Carol, his mind can’t wrap itself around the fact that people genuinely care for him. Growing up, he’d been taught of it as a weakness. Something that should not exist, no one cared when he went missing for a short while as a child, and now having people who show him the opposite? It leaves a strange feeling to settle within his heart.

“ please, I need to tell you. I mean, I might not even be here tomorrow. “

“ nah, don’t say that. Y’will. “ he argues, he doesn’t even want to entertain the notion of not seeing you even for a day ⏤ let alone forever.

Truthfully, you’d not been particularly close. He understands it now, he pushed everyone away wherever he had the chance to. But after the downfall of the farm? You wouldn’t let up in trying to forge bonds that could rival even the strongest of metals. You had no idea, but he’d overheard you talking to Beth one day. When you said you didn’t want to be afraid of living, to have something worth dying for. That struck him deep.

“ neither you or I can guarantee that. Now, call me selfish but I can’t die with what ifs in my brain. “ you explain, you know it’s probably selfish to announce any kind of fondness for a person nowadays, because you can be ripped from their existence without any kind of announcement. But if you were to depart from the realm of the living, you’d want to have affectionate memories to experience and for them to look back on.

“ what y’sayin? “

Your eyes well up in frustration, whether it’s over the way you find the words are hiding beneath your tongue like cowards under the cloak of night or over the fact that you have begun this topic of conversation, backing yourself into a corner. There’s so much you want to say but how you should is not coming easy. Eloquence in your words is something you find yourself yearning for with all of your being should it bring you a happy ending to this discussion.

This isn’t a fairytale, there’s no happy or bad endings in real life you sorely think. There’s just reality, and the conclusions for that are neither black or white.

Fingertips grip the roots of your hair for a fleeting moment before letting go as if you’d never clutched them in exasperation at all.

Shutting your eyes so hard they hurt, you muster up the courage to speak the truth you’ve locked away in your heart, allowing it the light it has been deprived of for so long.

“ Daryl, I ⏤ “ your voice shuts off with a painful sound, sighing as if to psych yourself up. “ I feel more for you than I probably should. “

When Daryl says nothing, you open your eyes. Your entire being preparing yourself for the worse answer, this moment may hurt now but the pain will lessen. At least your soul feels lighter with the hidden information no longer chained to it as a burden, no longer will it have to be weighed down by its mass.

“ I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. “

“ who said I didn’t wanna hear? “

“ ⏤ what ? “ you question, your brows falling lower as you squint in disbelief. You wonder if your brain is forming a false memory to protect itself later on.

“ y’don’t nothin’ to do with me though. “ he hesitates, the automatic response to push away anything good that comes his way to the furthest reaches. “ nothin’ but trouble. “

A sorrowful smile full of grief clouds your features, your unshed tears threaten to fall. If only he could see himself from your point of view, he doesn’t see just how admirable of a human being he is. Yes, he has his flaws but who doesn’t? In all of humanity, you don’t think there has ever been a perfect person, but it’s how they approach their downsides that shows the peak of their humanity, that they don’t let the darkness fester in their heart, to poison their soul into becoming a shell of a kind hearted person. That shows the strength of their character.

Daryl? You feel honoured to have been a first hand witness to see him turn from a hot ball of anger to a softer, kinder soul.

“ Daryl, you really don’t see what I do.” you forsake everything, leaning forwards and laying your hands across his. Taking in the immense warmth from them. “ That? It hurts me, because you’re rather amazing. “

Saying nothing, Daryl looks down at your intertwined hands. He wants the chance that’s being offered, though the fear of being the one who poisons everything he lays his touch upon settles heavily on his shoulder. No one has come out unscarred when dealing with a member of the Dixon family, his family tree being nothing more than toxic, with weeds that wrap around the limbs of the poor fool who got involved with them, as they drag them to their lowly depths. He doesn’t know how to let go of the past and for this he continues to pay, with the high price being his happiness in the present world. No response leaves his lips, for the first time in a long time he doesn’t know what to say, while knowing what he wants to say. It’s not until he feels arms wrapped around the top of his shoulders is he brought back down to Earth, a shudder of a breath is released from him as he realises what is going on. The action is reciprocated in earnest, you’re full of gratitude that he’s accepting your comfort ⏤ knowing it could have been a gamble of a decision, a fifty fifty chance of him reacting negatively or positively. You, too, draw comfort from the position you both find yourself, clutching the other. Hope dawns on your heart, knowing Daryl is not a particularly affectionate man. This means a lot, for it’s a leap for you both.

“ thank you. “ he whispers in the night. You know that this is the start of something new.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl imagine #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #twd oneshot #daryl oneshot

66 notes · View notes

smallblip · 3 years

Text

If this hasn’t broken me, I will never break.

Levihan | Rated for rough sex (consensual)

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29503941

Love is for suckers. In this life and the next, love is for the foolish, the reckless, the damned.

So they don’t give meaning to this-

thing between them, in full bloom like a rose amidst a bed of thorns. They find one another after each battle, this thing between them drawing a different type of blood. Until it stops altogether, the tenderness between them too painful to contain in two organic bodies.

But until it stops, they called it comfort, they called it fucking to feel something, they called it defiance in a world that tramples upon anything remotely tender-

Now they’ll call it holing up in an inn on the outskirts of town on borrowed time.

Levi draws her close, and she feels like she's about to throw up. There are butterflies in her stomach and they're unrelenting. It’s been so long so he fumbles with her shirt-

the buttons are on the other side. It’s supposed to be easier for you!

Oh.

But she laughs when she struggles with his shirt too.

Her bolo tie comes off and something like relief spreads across her face.

Commander Hanji Zoë, they had said. She’s now commander and Levi abhors the look on her face. A look he recognises as a mix of fear and resignation.

So he kisses her in the empty hallways after the ceremony. He kisses her so forcefully that it comes as a surprise to himself.

“Levi-“ she says, breathless. And she looks like she’s about to cry.

“Shut up.” Levi says, closing the gap between them to kiss her again. If he kisses her she won’t be able to speak. Then he wouldn’t have to watch her shatter. He wouldn’t be left alone to pick up the pieces. Levi pushes her up against the wall, fingers grabbing at her collar, “shut up,” he says again for good measure.

“Run away with me...” Hanji says in a moment of bravery, in a fevered moment induced by the friction of two bodies. Levi is so close that she can still taste him. And she wants more of him. All of him. Until she’s filled to the brim. Until she ceases to exist. And Levi doesn’t need to be told twice. They leave a letter in her office- we’ll be back, she writes. Words she purposefully etched on paper to tether her to the ground.

And they find themselves in an inn on the outskirts of the next town where no one knows their names.

“What now?” she asks, although she already knows what’s going to happen. Levi’s lips are red and swollen from kissing and things can only go to hell from here.

Levi looks at her, fingers tracing from her chin to her cheek, his palm follows, and she leans into the touch. “I will love you now...” he whispers as he draws her into his arms. I will love you to the brim, until we are whole again, until you are full and swollen like a blueberry, Levi thinks, and after fumbling with her clothes he guides them both to bed.

He’s gentle at first. Gentle kisses layering atop gentle touches, tentative like the first time they fucked. Except this isn’t the first time, and Levi fears it might be the last, so he takes his time. He has his hands on either side of her head and he’s looking down at her with all the love in the world. But Hanji looks like she’s about to cry.

“What do you want?” he asks between kisses that travel from her forehead to the tip of her nose.

"I want you to ruin me...” she answers, already her nails are digging into his arms hard enough to bruise.

And Levi doesn’t need to be asked twice. He sinks his teeth into her shoulder, hand pressed tight over her mouth to muffle her screaming. The taste of rust and earth on the tip of his tongue as he kisses the damage. He leaves a trail of purple flowers from where her pulse is hot and heavy, down to her chest, down to her hips.

“Levi..." she says in between marking what’s hers, high above his collar so everyone will know. A fevered bravery induced by the friction of skin against skin, of running away and holing up in an inn where no one knows her name. "Ruin me...” she says again.

Levi retrieves the belt from his uniform to tie her wrists to the bed frame. He kisses her forehead in a final act of tenderness before he fucks her into the mattress so hard she sees bursts of white light. And Hanji thinks this is all the good that’s left in this world. To feel young and reckless again. To feel an irreverent snigger catch in her lungs when she sees their uniforms strewn on the floor. To see Levi put the standard issue belts to good use on her wrists. To see his shirt crumpled near the door, something he’ll definitely groan about later. To be Hanji Zoë again, just Hanji Zoë. To belong to one person alone. To be whole again- two faces, four arms, four legs, tangled atop threadbare sheets.

Her back arches off the bed so she can feel him deeper, until the warmth of his body spreads like fire through her ribs. Hanji has trouble keeping quiet. She’s always had trouble keeping quiet. So Levi wraps his hands around her neck, “shut up...” he manages between groans. He feels like he’s going insane, seeing the way her eyes roll to the back of her head. Yet she still manages to gasp out his name with whatever air she gathers through parted lips. "Please..." she whispers.

So he undoes the belt around her wrists and immediately she pulls him atop her. His chest is against hers now, and her arms are wrapped around his neck. They can no longer tell where one scattered heartbeat ends and where the other begins.

“What do you want, Hanji?” he asks, a whisper against her neck.

You... she breathes.

She’s only ever wanted him.

But there’s no time to think about hurt and affliction. Now is the time for pleasure. They rut against each other, proximity drawing him in as soon as he pulls out. There’s that familiar ecstasy again, and her eyes close in rapture. She feels like she’s dying.

Hanji is sated, like a cat lying in a sunbeam, the setting sun providing just enough warmth for her to doze off. She hears Levi’s breath settling, and she feels that familiar flutter in her belly. She closes her eyes and sees butterflies emerging from a thousand cocoons. It’s warm so they take to the skies with ease. She thinks of a story she had heard as a child- of two lovers, a shared grave, and the dance of two butterflies. She wonders what Levi would think about being a butterfly. To live three or four weeks, dance, fall in love, then die his lover’s embrace. To return to the ground together, food for the creatures that dwell in the mud.

Hanji traces her gaze over the ceiling. She wonders how it has come to this. How it always comes to this. Hanji had been good. When her hands stray between her hips in the showers she doesn’t think of Levi anymore. She doesn’t think of his body- sinewy and hard, yet soft and pliable under her touch. She doesn’t think of the way his nose furrows, the way his lips part, as he drains her of pleasure, of guilt, of anything that’s not him and his voice, gruff from saying her name. But every once in a while, she falters. They find each other again. And now an image will inevitably slip into her mind in the showers after they return home-

Bruises on skin, blooming like flowers; skilled fingers replacing hers; and a voice, hot and heavy by her ears- Hanji... She scrubs herself raw-

“Hanji...” she hears it again and it coaxes her back to reality. She hums. I’m here, she wants to say, I never left.

“Hey Levi... Did you know adult butterflies don’t excrete waste? They use up everything they eat as energy so there’s nothing left...” she says absentmindedly.

Levi makes a sound that’s somewhere between acknowledgement and disgust. “That would save a lot of time...” he says anyway.

“What would they do with all that extra time?” She muses. This is nice. It’s nicer than fighting the urge to close the space between them every time she sees him, nicer than fighting the urge to tell him how she feels. Regrettable really, that it has come to this. That she guards her thoughts against him only to know it’s futile. So she falters. If there’s anyone in this world that knows her- if there’s anyone in this world that she knows-

“I can think of a few things...” he says, placing his hand in the path of her wandering fingers. He laces their fingers together like a trap. I’ve got you now, I won’t let go this time, he wants to say, but there’s little point in empty promises. “Sorry about the bruises...” he says.

She chuckles dryly, “don’t apologise... I told you to...” she rolls onto her belly with a groan, everything will hurt in the morning. She props her head up on her hands and looks at him with all the love in the world. “Reminds me of the first time we fucked...”

Levi rolls his eyes at her poetic diction. Nevertheless, Levi remembers the first time they fucked. A complete mess of bones and nerves and soft skin pulled taut over muscles. They bump noses one too many times and Hanji had to stop them in the middle of kissing to laugh.

Sorry, she had said, it’s the butterflies.

Levi knew what she had meant. There’s an unkind sort of churning in his gut, betraying his nerves, his lack of experience with anything beyond a rushed job.

Now his eyes trail over her purpling skin, the angry red around her wrists. Levi scoffs, “this is nothing like the first time we fucked...”

“Really?” Hanji hums, “the feeling is the same...” her fingers ghost his lips. They’re really nice lips. She could kiss him for days. “Only you can make it alright, Levi...” she whispers. And he’s alone again, picking up the pieces.

He remembers the last time they had given meaning to this thing between them. I can’t do this anymore... she had told him.

I think about running away with you, Levi... All the damn time, she had said, and I can’t-

And now they’re holed up in an inn, near the edge of the world. Levi grunts, self-explanatory. The feeling is mutual. Only she can piece him back together. Levi shifts closer to press his face in her chest, and he breathes her in. It’s been too long and he’s afraid this memory will be all that’s left of them.

And Hanji feels small again, like a child in her mother’s arms, being told that boys are nothing but trouble. So she kisses a few girls, and then a few boys, and she figures she doesn’t want to kiss anyone else after kissing Levi.

Hanji chuckles, fingers scratching absentmindedly at Levi’s undercut, “what would my mother say?”

“She’ll just have to accept that her child has a thing for runts from the underground...”

More laughter and she kisses the top of his head. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to know the thug her child fell in love with is now Captain Levi of the Survey Corps...”

There’s an aching in his heart and he tries to ignore that this is ill-advised. That they will end up hurting again, inevitably so. But Levi falters. He thinks he can do this forever. “And if she isn’t?”

“Hmmm...” she dramatises, as if coaxing a child, “then I’ll just have to run away with him to an inn in the middle of nowhere...” She peppers more kisses on his face.

And Levi wants to stay in bed until his muscles atrophy. He wants to stay in bed until his skin fuses with the sheets and his mind floats between the ceiling and the beams holding the roof up above them. He thinks it would be nice if they could live like this for the rest of their lives, a pair of skeletons embracing in a room without a view.

But he knows this decision will haunt them for life; will haunt her forever. These four walls cannot hold them. Neither can the walls that cast a shadow they all live under. And maybe that’s the reason Levi loves her. Her eyes hold all the hope this cursed world has to offer. Of new discoveries, like the first time kisses mean something, like the first time she kisses him.

They are atop the walls and she’s telling him about her past, about the time she spent wandering this earth without him. And he remembers the story his mother told him about humans with four arms and four legs and two faces, so perfect and powerful that the gods feared them. So they split them down the middle, condemned to walk the earth in search of their other half.

He thinks about Hanji completing his sentences. He thinks about their jokes that nobody else can begin to understand.

They make such a good team that the others notice. Mike teases her about their chemistry. He asks her what’s her secret to getting through to him.

“Maybe not bashing his head in and dunking him in water?”

Mike chuckles, “I already apologised for that.”

“And you aren’t best friends by now? That’s curious...” she teases.

And now everyone they once knew are now ghosts in the atmosphere. But Hanji’s still here.

You will know when you meet them Levi, you will know they have your heart. You might not feel it right away, but when you do-

“Say Levi, did you know butterflies can see colours we can’t see?” Hanji says breathlessly, before closing the gap between them and pressing her lips against his. She thinks of blaming the vertigo, it’s not easy being up on the walls and feeling so small. But she doesn’t. And Levi’s world bursts into colour. She has her hand against his chest, over his heart, feeling each flutter, like a dance of feathered wings-

Of butterflies.

“Ah... I feel so full...” she says, lying back down on gravel and brick after they pull apart, head resting against an arm, “like a blueberry...” she continues. Levi scoffs. What a ridiculous notion. What a ridiculous person.

But he knew then, that with her he can conceive of a word so beautiful it shatters him into a million pieces. But they need her too, the others. And Levi doesn’t know how to be selfish.

And already she knows what he’s thinking of. Whether by some curse or by hallowed bond. She knows. They have to go home eventually. Hanji remembers the note she left, and she doesn't know how to lie. Sometimes she thinks if she tries hard enough, she will be able to remember when they had been one- four arms, four legs, two faces, so close she never has to live a day without hearing him breathe. But there’s still time. It’s safe here, no one knows their names. They are two butterflies dancing atop a shared grave.

So Hanji places her head on Levi’s chest, over his heart. There’s a thunder that stirs from within. She listens to the flight of wings- mirroring her own.

They never did give meaning to this-

thing between them. They called it comfort, they called it fucking to feel something, they called it defiance in a world that tramples upon anything remotely tender. They called it being whole again- an affliction that threatens the gods. They call it holing up in an inn on the outskirts of town on borrowed time.

Hanji calls it butterflies.

“We’ll leave when the bruises fade,” he says.

“Until then?”

“I will love you to the brim.”

#heeeeee i'm happy to be back #levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #hanji zoe #levi ackerman #levihan fanfic #mine #my fic #levihan fanfiction #i HATE TAGGING #shingeki no kyojin

116 notes · View notes

amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

Note

#4 PLEASE

IT TOOK ME AN AGE BUT HERE IS MY 2400+ WORD “DRABBLE” 🤣🥴 Set in the universe of Do You Promise? and thus I must also tag @blackhawkschild-blog because DUH 🥰 Anyway I hope you enjoy this monster! P.S. if anyone if reading this and didn’t read the fic this is based off of, it can be read as a standalone so no biggie. _______________________________________________________ Prompt: “Stop looking at me like that or my knees will not hold me any longer.”

For the longest time, Jon had never really pictured himself as the domesticated type.

It was funny how all it took was one particular woman, whose finger he was tightly wrapped around, to alter that perspective. He kicked himself in the arse, and often, that he didn’t have the balls to act on it sooner...but at the same time, he felt like at this stage in his life, he could appreciate it more.

It was incredible how much said feeling inflated with every passing day now that Dany had moved in with him, and they shared their space together. It was even more incredible as he returned home from work and a quick store run, and walked in, a couple of grocery bags in hand, eyes finding Dany’s petite little self high up on a ladder, repainting one of the walls. It was the one day in the week that she got off and home before him.

He nearly lost his grip on the bags seeing her in one of his workout tanktops, which was loose-fitting on her, the arm holes exposing the soft swell of her breast, making him dangerously close to rising to half mast just by the visual alone. Fueled by her pert, round little arse barely tucked into some cotton shorts, barefoot, hair thrown up into a messy pile atop her head, her face contorted as if she were attending a patient of hers at the hospital, some sort of tune playing off of her phone on the couch… This was never what he could have imagined for himself.

Even if it did, often...too often...distract him from whatever tasks he was trying to accomplish when not away at work. He was distantly aware of the fact that he still had a load of laundry sitting in the wash from two days ago. But there were no complaints to be found.

When he had asked if she wanted to be stuck with him here, he had also expressed that he wanted the cabin to feel like her space as much as it was his. After all, she was the one packing up and leaving her place behind. She insisted that she loved everything the way that it was, but he was, perhaps, a hair more bullheaded, and practically begged her to bring a piece of herself into the mix that wasn't just clothes or tiny knick knacks.

So, she’d settled on refinishing and painting the brick wall that the fireplace was built into; an “accent wall” as she called it, because one of her favorite programs to catch up on when she got home from her long, trying shifts, were home renovations. Though he knew little about the subject, he had to admit that he learned a lot from them as well, though his hands were more fit for welding. And wrecking Dany.

“Stop looking at me like that or my knees will not hold me any longer,” she chided gently; he hadn’t realized how long he had even been ogling her, lifting his eyes up to seek hers, which were gleaming with mischief. “I’ll come apart if I fall off this thing.”

Jon couldn’t help but smirk, setting the bags onto the middle kitchen island and crossing the room toward her. “I can make you come apart,” he offered nonchalantly; she was up high, but he could still easily reach her, curling his hands around her silky calves and giving them a kiss behind her knees.

She was peering down at him, pretty, petal pink lips curved upward. He knew that look...it was her predatory one when she wanted to eat him alive. Since they'd spent the last four weeks working out the kinks of selling her rental and moving everything over to his place, plus work, they were merely passing ships in the night, as it were. Now, at last, she was settled. “Well, I suppose I ought to take a break...stretch my legs a bit,” she winked.

Jon waited until her paint brush was in her tray before he used one foot to step up higher, the other firmly planted to the floor, then hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her straight into his hold despite her screech of surprise. “Looks really good,” he muttered, setting her down on her feet. And it did; he didn’t expect it to livin up the space - the panel wall she painted a peacock blue, and the mental header white. It was a nice modern touch.

“Thanks. So do you,” she remarked softly, looping her arms loosely around his shoulders.

He tugged her close, clenching his jaw with how soft her body was against his hard, sore one. "Let me help you stretch," he offered, nosing at her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear before dragging his teeth over it.

The little moan alone from her had him springing to life, and now all he wanted to do was spend the rest of the evening re-memorizing all of her buttons. Starting with laving his tongue over the thin, sensitive skin of her pulse just under her jaw. Her body curved into him as he explored further, the front of his shirt bunched in her fists. Jon followed the ebb and flow of her shapely body with his hands until they slid easily beneath the band of her shorts, groaning against her neck to discover she had also gone without panties, his palms filled with nothing but flesh, giving them an affectionate squeeze.

Dany took his face, lifting his head so she could study his reaction with her own eyes, a pleased grin about her lips. Before he could ask her what had her so smug, even if he thought he knew the reason since it was currently in his hands, she was thumbing a blue smear of paint across his cheek, her giggle bubbling up and out of her mouth.

"Dany…," he ticked his tongue, and then she was backing up and bolting, her infectious laughter disappearing with her. Jon shook his head, taking his time in hunting her down.

His footsteps were feather light up the stairs, and he could faintly hear the shower had been switched on. Anticipation swirled in his stomach, capturing his lip between his teeth as he stalked his way to the bedroom. Upon first glance, there was no sight of her. Going further, he was ambushed from behind, Dany's hands thrown over his eyes and cheeky smile apparent in her voice.

"What took you so long? And why are your clothes still on?" She asked, playfully affronted.

Eagerly he reached backwards only to discover nothing but warm, naked skin behind him. His mouth watered. Spinning around, his heart thrashed against his sternum. To think he used to come home to nothing but himself and this cabin…

He moved to devour her mouth but was stopped by a hand on his chest, her lidded, jeweled eyes alight. Narrowing his eyes at her teasing, she kept hers locked on his while she stripped him bare, with a firm command that he keep his hands to himself. He obeyed her wishes, and was already painfully hard before she even made contact with the waist of his jeans.

Once he was fully nude, his mouth practically salivating at this point, Dany wrapped her small hand around his cock and slowly, mercilessly stroked him. He sucked in a hasty breath and hung his head, using the wall behind her as leverage when she swatted him away from grabbing her. She calculated every shift in his face, twisting and tugging until she was driving him fucking mad, nearly inclined to just press her up against the wall and have her then and there.

He could feel the humid warmth from the joint bathroom comingling with his increasingly dewy skin, sinking his teeth into his forearm that was holding his weight against the wall, the sting only barely dulling the need to let go. Dany was a menace, trapped between him and the wall, avoiding any other contact, but then shifting closer to nibble the strained tendon protruding from his neck whilst tightening her grip on his length.

"What are you trying to do to me?" He bit out, his breaths merely desperate huffs of hot air. He rolled his forehead against his arm at an angle so that he could catch a glimpse below, but almost regretted doing so; Dany lifted up onto her tiptoes, her free hand gripping his shoulder, and slid her soaked cunt over him, his nails curling into his palm and eyes slamming shut.

"Dany…,” he grunted, semi-aware in his haze that if she kept that up, he was going to spend before he even got inside of her.

She ground herself over him, using her hand to add more and more pressure, but it was her open-mouthed whimper hot in his ear that set him loose. Jon withdrew his hips and hiked her straight up, her legs hooking around his waist with a gasp that he quickly drank down with his mouth.

By muscle memory he got them into the shower without anyone falling, shielding Dany from the spray of the shower head. Their mouths simmered down to something softer as Jon pinned her against the wall, reaching down to position his cock while she wiggled her body down until he was bumping her entrance.

He was already on edge from her previous taunting, and the small contact was enough to make him hiss, his teeth firmly dug into her lip. With one arm securing her to him, they moved together and he drove home in one pivot of his hips, each of them exchanging a blissed-out moan.

Knowing for certain that he wouldn't be able to drag it out, he was quick to set a frenzied pace. His eyes caught on hers; his one hand gripped the neck of the shower head, and hers, one white-knuckling the curtain rod. He hoped to the gods both could hold them, but he was in far too much a state to care if they didn't.

Dany's mouth hung open, her face delightfully creased at the brow and fighting to keep her eyes open. Silent cries spilled between her swollen lips, punctuating the air with every long stroke inside her searing channel. He ground his teeth further, pressing his forehead over hers, throat burning and taut muscles deliciously aching.

While he used his strength to keep her upright, her free hand shifted down between them to massage her clit, a string of nonsensical noises and curses flooding the space. The added feel of her hand there had him joining her until his movements grew erratic, mouthing each other.

"I'm gonna come," she murmured on a breath, and all he could return was a jerky nod, moving his head back a hair to watch her unravel, her jaw slack and laments amplified in the small space. After a few more quick pumps, he followed right after her, and she removed her hand from the rail to cradle his head against her neck as he growled against her skin and he was drained dry

The recovery consisted of spending several minutes coming back to themselves, wrapped around each other, until Dany suggested they relax in a bath instead.

Jon was dozing off behind her, the mix of her favorite lavender and lemon soap and shampoo and little pops of bubbles putting his mind and body to rest. In his half conscious state, Dany turned in his arms and laid herself over him, laying her cheek over his chest that wasn't submerged, arms looping around his back.

"We should take a holiday," she murmured groggily.

All Jon could do, for now, was raise his brows and hum his response. He could feel when she turned, a kiss landing on his chin. He willed himself to sit up just enough to peer down at her, momentarily breathless by her beauty...as he always was. She had a gentle smile pulling at her lips, patient.

"Where to?" He questioned hoarsely, sliding his knuckles up and down the length of her back.

"Somewhere warm?"

"Tell me when and we'll go," he vowed, the slight lift to her brow telling him she hadn't expected it to be that easy. He had always made it a point to grumble about anywhere that was even twenty degrees warmer than the North since Dany had known him; he almost surprised himself if it wasn't for the company he'd be keeping on said trip.

"A beach? Maybe Dorne? If we want to go all out there's always Essos," she suggested. He kissed her, simply because he couldn't resist her.

"Too much desert in Essos," he muttered with a tiny grimace, "but I like the sound of a beach."

A grin broke across her face and she slid further up to be more level with him, forearms settling on his shoulders. He glanced at her breasts that were practically shoved in his face, leaning down to nibble on her skin until she squealed and gently brought his face back up.

She nuzzled her nose against his. "But is that where you want to go?"

Curling his arms around her in an almost vice grip, he let his head rest once more on the back lip of the tub, gazing up at the woman he still didn't quite understand how she was his. "I'd go anywhere with you, Dany," he said earnestly, and her cheeks bloomed a bright pink despite the water having cooled. He didn't even know how long they'd been sitting in there, but he could feel the prunes on his fingers.

She kissed the tip of his nose, partly hiding her glowing face from him. Then she looked at him straight on. "I love you," she whispered, searching him as if expecting a recoil.

His heart swelled in his chest, and he carefully adjusted himself to prop up a bit more, tucking some of her damp hair behind her ear and then cuffing her neck. He smiled. "I love you, too. A crazy amount, actually.”

With a giddy smile she kissed him full on the mouth, barely glancing her tongue against his before pulling away again, a devilish smirk plastered to her face and brows jumping. "A crazy amount, huh?"

Now it was his turn to flush, digging his fingers into her ribs until she couldn't breathe. "Don’t press your luck,” he warned good-naturedly, pulling the stopper to the drain. She stuck her tongue out at him, garnering herself a bum bunch.

After they were dried and warm, huddled together in their bed, they began their pursuit for Dornish resorts.

#jonerys drabble #jonerys fanfic #my fics #i only skimmed this for typos so don't mind them if you find any 😶#also to the anon that asked me if I do the smutty prompts i gotcha!#i'm just slow af but i'll get to it

74 notes · View notes

ererokii · 4 years

Text

Hit It! || Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader

Warnings: slight suggestive talk, cursing

Word Count: 2427

Synopsis: The students finished their final exams and the former number one hero has a fun plan in store for them, which may cause Bakugou to become more competitive than usual.

Taglist(message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @saltie @sugacookiies @fryingpanitachi @kingtamakimurder

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub’s bingo event! The prompt is Sports Game. And yes before anyone says anything, that is a haikyuu gif.

Bingo Masterlist

The students of UA have finished their final exams and desperately needed a break. Some decided they would go back home and visit their parents, others wanted to go explore the rest of the world or just sit back in the dorms. This time was different.

Since his retirement, All Might has kept himself focused on class 1-A. This meant that he gave advice, and helped those who needed the inner strength to get better at their quirk. He noticed the tight bond between the students. It was obvious to spot since the League of Villains attacked the summer camp and kidnapped Bakugou. The dedication in each student’s heart was evident.

The summer breeze flowed throughout the area, carrying it’s hot wind throughout the dorm room you were currently in. The windows stayed open as the curtains covered the rays of the sunlight from seeping through. You let out a small whine and shifted in the arms of the person beside you. “Move you’re all sweaty!”

“Hah? And you aren’t? It’s not my fucking fault that it’s so fucking hot.”

“Least you could do is get a fan or something! You’re making us suffer but mostly me!”

Bakugou let out a noise of annoyance and sat up, running a hand through his blond hair, the muscles of his uncovered arms flexing unintentionally. He wore a red tank top that showed off his build and black basketball shorts. A simple outfit that made him look amazing.

A pleased hum fell from your lips as your hand slithered up his arm, squeezing the muscle of his bicep.

He glanced down at your hand. “What? What do you want?”

“You,” a sly grin tugged at your lips as you leaned up on your forearm, the strap of your tank top resting off of your shoulder.

“Is that so?” his voice lowered as he towered over you, his calloused hand resting on the supple flesh of your thigh, squeezing it gently.

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, his vermillion eyes boring into your own, “Uh-huh. It is”

His hand trailed up your thigh to the hemline of your shorts, tracing the fabric with the pad of his finger. “I think you’d look better with these off,” he whispered and captured your lips with his, pulling you flush to his chest.

Your hands weaved themselves into his hair, giving the locks a gentle tugged that caused a grunt to leave his throat.

“Hey guy- Woah!!”

A small gasp left your lips, Bakugou’s body tensing up at the voice “Ever heard of, oh I don’t know, knocking you idiot?!”

“Why didn’t you just lock the door?!” Kaminari’s voice choked out from his throat, his hand still gripping the doorknob.

“Because I thought people knew what privacy was!!”

“Pfft,” he brushed it off, hand letting go of the doorknob. “Whatever! Just hurry up! We’re going to be playing a game as a class! And All Might is supposed to be there as well!!”

At the name of the former number one hero, Bakugou looked over at him, his body still leaning over your own. “All Might?”

“Uh-huh! So hurry whatever this is!” he gestured to your bodies with his hand. “And we can start sooner!”

“Katsu get off!” You grunted and pushed at his chest, both of his hands planted on both sides of your head. “I wanna go see what it is!”

“What?! Woman you just said you wanted me now you’re gonna leave?!”

“Well yeah,” you said, looking up at him unamused. “So get off!”

He grumbled and got off of you, standing up from his bed. “Are you actually going to that? It’s probably not even going to be good. Just those damn nerds and that stupid game shit for brains said”

You rolled your eyes and fixed your tank top. “Yes I am. It’ll probably be something fun! So stop being a grumpy bitch and get yourself ready!”

“What did you say, shitty woman?!”

“I said what I said!”

“You’ll regret that!!”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

All Might discussed with your class that you would be in the gym for today, without your hero costumes. Of course, you were all confused. The majority of the time when you needed to head to the gym, you needed to wear your hero costumes or your gym uniforms.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Momo started as she scratched her chin, in thought. “He ignored all of our questions. He never does that. Plus Mr. Aizawa seems..okay today.”

Tsuyu nodded in agreement, placing a finger on her chin. “I noticed that too. Maybe it’s a fun surprise?”

“Fun?!” Mina gasped in what sounded like horror. “What makes you think this is fun?! What if it’s punishment?! What if they have us read books and laugh at our torture?!”

“Uh...I think you’re going a bit too far Mina. Maybe it is actually something fun,” Ochako spoke up, hands swinging by her side. “Maybe we’ll play a sport!”

Jirou nodded, playing with the earphone of her lobe, clinking them together in boredom. “Don’t get so worked up over it. You’re always exaggerating”

“That's not true!! Y/N please back me up!” Mina whined, shaking you by your shoulders.

“Sorry Mina I have to agree with Jirou on this one”

“I thought you had my back!” She wailed.

“I mean I do!” you said quickly, waving your hands in front of you frantically. “Just not now!”

“Yeah Mina, you are drama queen,” Hagakure commented, messing with the hem of her shirt.

Before Mina could comment or strangle the invisible girl, All Might walked in with Aizawa, carrying a black bag in his hands.

“Good Morning class!”

Everyone quickly lined up, hands by their side. “Morning All Might!”

A booming laugh left his lips, placing his hands on his hips. “Who is ready to get this started?!”

“Maybe you should tell them before we get this started or whatever...I don’t care. Just don’t destroy the place,” Aizawa mumbled, running a hand through his locks.

“Yes of course!” All Might coughed into his hand and took out the object from the bag. It was a volleyball. “Today you guys will be bonding over a simple game of volleyball! And yes you can use your quirks! It’ll be a nice game of boys vs girls!”

“Quirk training?!” Deku gasped and clenched his fist tightly. “I’ll make sure to use this wisely then!”

“Seeing the girls run?! Girls girls girls..” Mineta trailed off, some drool dribbling out of his mouth.

“Ew man get it together. No one wants to see you like that,” Sero waved him off, moving away from him.

“It is not nice to talk about our female classmates like that!” Iida interrupted Mineta’s daydream.

“I didn’t say anything! Honest!” He grinned, eyeing you from the side of his eye. “Oh man I can’t wait.”

“Can’t wait for what diaper baby?!” Bakugou yelled, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and lifting him off the ground. “I know you weren’t checking my girlfriend like that!!”

“Enough!” Aizawa’s voice boomed throughout the room, hair up as his red eyes focused on Bakugou and Mineta. “Unless you guys wanted me to teach all of you a lesson.”

Bakugou dropped Mineta on the floor, the smaller boy letting out a noise as he collided with the ground. Once the two got back in place, All Might cleared his throat.

“Like I was saying, you guys obviously have a deep bond! Why not make it deeper by a fun game!” He laughed and handed the ball to Iida. “I assume you all know how to play volleyball. Remember quirks are allowed but don’t kill each other either!”

“So it was something fun.” Tsuyu mumbled as she walked into position. “I haven’t played volleyball in awhile. But this will be fun nonetheless!”

“Huddle!” Mina yelled and pulled you guys into a tight circle. “You see those pests over there?”

“Uh, Mina we can hear you.”

“We’re gonna beat them!” She ignored Kirishima’s comment, placing her hand in the middle. “We’ll wipe the floor with them!”

You all cheered, placing your hands in the middle. “And since we all have some powerful quirks, it’ll be easy!”

Your quirk was called stretch. You were able to stretch your limbs as far as you wanted. The only downside is if you use your quirk too much you wouldn’t be able to use it for the rest of the day, your body on the verge of collapsing.

“As long as we just call for the ball we’ll do great!” You looked over your shoulder to find Katsuki staring at you, a small smirk on his face.

“He’s not your boyfriend now! He’s the enemy!” Hagakure’s hand placed itself on top of your head, forcing you to look back at the group. “Forget the lovey-dovey things and destroy him!”

You blinked absentmindedly. Who knew volleyball could bring out the weird in people.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“Todoroki!”

“Got it” The bi-colored boy said calmly, quickly shooting out fire at the volleyball from his left side, sending it back your way with intense speed.

All Might had said that the ball was created with some type of material that was able to be used even with fire or explosions and other types of quirks.

“Mine!” Tsuyu called, sticking her tongue out to prevent the ball from falling on the floor.

“My way!” You yelled out, running to the side of the court. Mina glanced your way before shooting acid that sent the ball your way. You jumped up, hand colliding with the ball as you spiked it downwards, causing Iida to miss the ball by a second. “Yes!” you cheered as you landed, hands up in the air.

“Nice one Y/N! Ochako it’s your serve!”

Uraraka made her way to the line, mumbling something as she held the ball in her hands. “Should I use my quirk..? Nah” she nodded to herself as she took a step back before throwing the ball up in the air, taking a step forward and hit it.

You guys watched it hit the net, the ball falling and hitting your end of the court.

“I’m sorry guys!” She cried and covered her face with her hands.

“It’s fine Ochako-san! It’s Bakugou’s serve so look up!” Momo called out, legs bent as her hands were in front of her already.

At the name of him, you all immediately got in position, prepared for his move.

Bakugou analyzed your placement, bouncing the ball off of the ground.

“Come on Bakugou! We’re all waiting for you!” Kirishima groaned, fixing the white headband he had on.

Bakugou growled, his hand starting to sweat. He tossed the ball up in the air and spiked it, the ball speeding towards Jirou.

Her eyes widened, no time to move for it as it already landed on the floor, a point for the boys.

“Awesome!! One more then we win! Serve like that again Bakugou!”

“Of course I am, idiot!” He spat, snatching the ball from Sero’s hands.

Bakugou let out a small growl as he squeezed the ball in his hands before tossing the ball in the air and serving it your way.

“Momo!” You spoke up, bumping the ball to her as she set the ball for Hagakure to hit over.

“I got it!” Kirishima yelled as he bumped the ball towards the net.

Bakugou’s eyes followed the ball as he ran at full speed. “Move!!” He yelled and jumped up, his hand creating an explosion as it collided with the ball, a cracking noise resonating throughout the room. “Die!!”

Your eyes widened at the sudden burst of new color and the ball heading your direction.

“Y/N watch out!”

Before you could even move, the ball smacked you in your face, causing you to stumble backwards and land with a thud, your head hitting against the ground hard.

The girls gasped as they made their way to tend to you immediately.

“Bakugou!” Izuku said, pointing a finger in the blond boy’s direction. “All Might said not to go all out with our quirks! You probably gave her a concussion!”

“Yeah, she isn’t waking up,” Todoroki mumbled, arms crossed over his torso.

“That was extremely uncalled for Bakugou! You broke the rules and now we have to stop because of your carelessness!” Iida reprimanded him, hands motioning to your moving body.

“Not cool man..” Kaminari whispered, a hint of worry in his voice as he walked over to you with Kirishima and Sero.

“What happened?” you mumbled, a hand on your throbbing head. “Did I pass out?”

“Young Y/N, Bakugou went a bit too hard and spiked the ball into your face. You have to see Recovery Girl immediately. You might have gotten a concussion.” All Might helped you stand up, your body stumbling faintly.

“Really? That’s crazy..” you whispered and looked around, your classmates staring at you in worry. “What did I get a third eye?!” Your hands felt your face in search of your said third eye.

“No, your eye is swelling shut!”

“Ugh, move!” Bakugou groaned out and wrapped a hand around your wrist. “Come on. You’ll probably pass out on the way there. I’ll take you, shitty woman”

A hand on your head, you followed Bakugou from behind as you let out incoherent noises, a silence between the two of you as you walked down the hall to Recovery Girl’s office.

“You hit me really hard..”

“It was an accident”

You let out a sniffle as you wiped your eye gently, careful of the bruising. “Yeah, but it hurts!”

“Why are you complaining?! You’ve fought villains before and you’re crying because I hit you with a volleyball?”

“W-well yes! But it still hurts!”

“Fucking- let me see.” He placed a hand on your waist and brought you closer, his hand gently caressing the side of your face. “Damn… I did get you good. She’ll fix you up.”

“..kiss it better.”

“What?”

“I said,” you looked up at him, your eye fluttering shut. “Kiss it better.”

Bakugou stared down at you like you lost your mind. He sighed in defeat and placed a gentle kiss on your wound, his lips lingering for a second more that sent warmth throughout your body.

“There. Now stop crying.”

You let out a small smile and patted his cheeks. “Kiss it again!”

“I just fucking did dammit!”

“Well, kiss it again asshole!”

“No!”

“Why not?!”

“Because I said so! Now start walking and quit talking shitty woman!”

#bnhabookclub #katsuki bakugou #katuski x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #mha #bnha #myheroacademia #bokonoacademia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #x reader #my fic #fic #bingo event

475 notes · View notes

officerjennie · 3 years

Text

Commission for the ever so lovely @bouncyirwin - who spreads joy, happiness, and support as freely and easily as some people breathe (this fandom wouldn’t be the same without you 💜💜💜💜💜)

---

How anyone could so much as breathe without adoration hitching their efforts around her, Shisui really didn’t know.

This wasn’t even the first time this week he’d found himself staring in awe without a word able to escape him. Sakura had a way of making him dumb to the quick wit and playful flirting that usually came as natural as most any other social interaction to him - he’d always been the social butterfly of his clan, berated for it at times and having his hair fondly tousled at others. And yet here he sat, in the corner of the little restaurant Sakura and her team and her team’s families had all crowded into, unable to absorb any of the chatter or whatever joke had Kakashi snickering behind his book or even what had Naruto and the brat arguing this time.

Sakura seemed content enough to sit back and soak it all in as well, pride in the soft smile that graced her lips, a cup of tea cradled in her hand near her chest in lieu of the spirit that many of her companions had chosen to partake in this evening. And who could blame them? Rare was the day any shinobi party could come back unscathed along with their success, and given the tentative peace between Konoha and Kiri could have been destroyed at the smallest misstep their celebration came with relief felt by the entire village.

It warmed him to no end to see her so content and sure, so proud, none of the hesitance that used to haunt her expressions and tense her body anywhere to be found - the kunoichi that had chased and chased after her teammates had long since caught up and surpassed them in so many ways, and even without being privy to the intimate details of her internal battles Shisui could feel emotion trying to choke him.

Gods, but he had it bad, didn’t he? He forced some of his own tea down, looking away from the woman who had no idea she held his heart so tightly in her grip, scrubbing his face with his free hand in an attempt to clear his head. Admiration was one thing - very understandable in this case, given Sakura set the precedent for strong and capable shinobi who could punch a ravine into existence - but they could hardly even be called friends if he was honest with himself. So openly staring at her with his heart in his eyes could definitely count as creepy.

Maybe he needed more hobbies.

“Not really like you to hang out on the sidelines.”

It was a bit embarrassing to be snuck up on like that. He hoped his surprise wasn’t too obvious as he peeked through his hands, finding the woman who’d been occupying his thoughts all night now occupying the seat next to him. Up so close he could see her cheeks were dusted pink, though he couldn’t really tell if it was the chill from the night air or just some blush she’d painted on.

Either way. It didn’t really matter which one it was. All Shisui could really do with the information is filing it under “she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met” and keep the simple image of her tucking some pink hair behind her ear firmly in his mind’s eye for the rest of his days.

“Not a place I’d expect to find you either.” She blinked at his words as if confused, pursing her lips even, so despite how obvious it seemed to him Shisui clarified, “You more the frontline type, right?”

“Ah, yeah, I don’t really care for ‘supporting others’ to mean ‘being left behind.’ But today,” Sakura turned just enough to look over at her teammates, Shisui following her gaze to see Naruto gesturing wildly in horror at something that had Sasuke snickering unashamedly. “Today, I think I’m alright with not being in the middle of them. There are some conversations I’d rather they have without me.”

“What even has them going, anyway?”

“Relationships,” Sakura said, a little too quickly. But she didn’t let the awkwardness stay, her eyes flicking down to her tea which she held between her hands as if her fingers might be cold. Shisui wished he could warm them between his own. “Well, not exactly relationships. More like things people do in them. They seem to find it amusing to list all the people they’ve managed to kiss or make out with.”

With a snort, Shisui said, “I’m guessing they’re both at the top of each other’s lists then?”

He was very glad to see the tiny bit of tension relax right away from Sakura as she laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. “Somehow, they always seem to forget to mention that.”

“Bet you love to remind them.”

“Bet I do.” She flashed him a smile that had his ears heating up, and for the life of him Shisui could not say why it made him feel bold.

Despite how calm people saw him, despite his rather laid back nature, Shisui often found himself tongue tied where feelings were involved. But past his beating heart he somehow managed to not make a fool of himself, his nerves not overwhelming him - perhaps it was simply how welcomed he felt in her presence? How inviting and warm she was even as all she did was sip her tea, simply existing but existing there, next to him, when any number of seats were available next to those she was far closer to. And didn’t that make him feel lucky.

“Do you have a list?”

The gods only knew how he managed to make that sound casual. Even when Sakura’s eyes widened and blinked up at him (he swore his favorite color used to be blue but damn if that shade of green wasn’t going to change that) - and for a terrifying moment he remembered just how easily this woman could demolish any wall that stood in her way. With her fist.

Even if that wall was made with solid concrete, or was, say, a whole ass mountain. He was pretty sure he wasn’t anywhere near as solid as a mountain.

When she chose to not punch him, every single last bone in his body heaved a sigh of thankfully unbroken relief. “No, I...don’t have a list.”

No list? That was a little surprising. “A name, then?” Maybe not the best thing to ask someone, at least not before he was sure she would be comfortable with answering. Shisui was quick to add “Unless it’s a secret or something” - the last thing he needed was to drive her away by pushing into her own personal life.

Though, then again - and something in Shisui rose up in slight saddened panic at the thought - what would he do if she did have a name? A significant other? Itachi was out on another of his long missions, who exactly was he supposed to lean on and eat comfort chocolate with if it turned out his growing crush was, well...crushed, before anything could come of it?

“No. No name.”

It took physical effort to not sag with some sort of relief at her words, but it wasn’t a relief that Shisui had much time to process. Because as much as he wanted a chance with the woman of his dreams, as much as he had wanted to hear that...

“Eh? Really? You?” Shisui found it beyond the realms of possibility that Sakura, of all the people in Konoha, had yet to have her first kiss, and that shock was perhaps a bit too loud in his tone.

Definitely not good for his health and wellbeing. The nerve on Sakura’s forehead was suddenly twitching, and the sharp look she sent his way had him gulping.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, no! No no, nothing- I didn’t mean like that!” He shook his head a little more than necessary, horror dawning on him as he realized his unintentional insinuation. “I just meant- you’re just, well, beautiful! Beautiful and an exceptional shinobi, a damn good medic, and from what Sasuke’s told me in confidence you make a mean blueberry tart. Not to mention you could punch through steel if it offended you.” By some grace of the gods he managed to bit off his rambling there, scratching nervously at the back of his head, almost mumbling as he ended his poor excuse of an explanation with, “I just expected, you know… You might have kissed at least one of the people who admired you.”

The moments of quiet after his words were probably the most terrifying seconds of his life, though by some mercy Sakura did not seem angry. Maybe his apology/explanation was acceptable after all and he wouldn’t have to-

Sakura said something under her breath, and Shisui blinked back out of his thoughts, frowning a little in confusion. “What?”

“It’s just that I…” Her bottom lip caught between her teeth for a moment, drawing Shisui’s eyes. “I’ve never really had an appealing offer. You know?”

Had she always been sitting that close to him? Their thighs were touching and Shisui couldn’t remember when that had happened, but his pulse picked up, the whole of him keenly aware of every inch of her.

And how bad would it be, really, to be buried in the ground by those deceptively slender fingers?

“Would I,” Shisui started, with a smooth tone that belied how his heart beat frantically in his chest, “qualify as an appealing offer?”

A breath. Two. Sakura’s gaze flickered down to his lips as hers parted the barest bit - and even before she nodded Shisui knew her answer - though he knew not how he'd been so lucky as to get a yes.

Her hair was soft under his fingers as he cupped the back of her head, her pupils wide as she tilted her chin to look up at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that they were not alone, their friends and coworkers laughing and drinking and chattering away not even half a small restaurant away from them, but all of him preferred to focus on Sakura’s hand now coming to rest on his arm, the way she shifted forward as he leaned closer, how intimate it felt to brush their noses together, her breath tickling his lips.

And then their lips met, and the rest of the world fell away.

#shisaku #shisui #sakura #fanfiction #mywriting #commission #thank you!!#I'm sorry it took a while to write T^T #fluff #some humor #also on ao3 #link in the source!

101 notes · View notes

staywritten · 4 years

Text

Misunderstanding│Lee Felix

Synopsis: Sometimes a simple conversations could save a lot of heartache Genre: Fluffy, Angsty, smutty, fluffy, romantic in that order lol. Oneshot Word Count: 3877 Masterlist. AO3

“Baby~” Felix whined as he attempted to get out of bed for the umpteenth time. Your face buried in his chest, as your legs had him in a vice grip around his middle. He always loved when you koala hugged him, but this particular morning it was making it rather difficult to get up for work. He chuckled seeing you pout. “I wish I could stay in bed with you, but I have to go to work”

Leaning your chin on his chest you looked up at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. “Stay with me instead” you whined, placing little kisses on the light dusting of freckles on his skin. “Please”

“I can’t flake on Chan-Hyung this time, he will kill me” he laughed showering you with kisses “I’ll make it up to you tonight” he gripped your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. He pulled you into a deep kiss, his lips molding against yours. “Mmm…” he pulled back just slightly to really get a good look at you. It took a lot out of him to get out of bed. He loved seeing you first thing in the morning. Hearing your sleepy voice beg for him, seeing your body covered with one of his t-shirts. The way the sun shined on you through the blinds, and how mused your hair was. It was his favorite sight. He caressed your cheek lovingly as he took you in. Almost like he was trying to memorize every inch of you. “I have to go now”

“Fine” you sighed, kissing him one last time before unhooking your legs from around him.

He watched as you reluctantly detached from him before turning on your side, hugging his pillow. His heart-melting at just how cute you looked. He pulled you back into his chest, laughing softly. “I mean- I can be a few minutes late” he showered you with kisses, not wanting to part from you just yet.

Your airy laugh warmed his heart as he pinned you beneath him. His soft hair falling over his eyes. “I thought you couldn’t be late today” you teased, running your hand into his hair.

“Just a few minutes…” he playfully tugged your shirt upward, lowering himself between your legs. “I don’t have much time… but I can do a little bit…”

“Mmmm glad you could pencil me in…” you watched with heated eyes as he hooked your legs around his shoulder before burying his face against your panties. His teeth grazing the outside of the cotton, just moments before he heard a knock at his door. He shot up, brows furrowing before looking at you. “You expecting someone?” you asked, moving back and covering yourself with his blanket.

“No? Maybe it’s a delivery?”

“Maybe it’s Chan sensing that you’re about to flake on work” you giggled watching Felix crawl out of bed, padding out of his room. You watched anxiously from the crack in his door. Felix wasn’t really one for guests, sure he lived alone but all of his friends had a key to his apartment, and wouldn’t know how to knock to save their lives. Your ears perked up hearing a woman’s voice before seeing Felix envelope an adorable woman in his arms.

“Mum?” he grinned hugging her tightly. “What are you doing here?!” he pulled her back at arms length just to get a good look at her.

She beamed. “Your sister was looking at some schools in Seoul, so I wanted to surprise you! Are you surprised?” she gently smoothed down his hair, giving him a little pat.

“I’m so surprised!” he chuckled, hugging her tightly. “I missed you Mum!”

Meanwhile in his bedroom you scrambled for your clothes. Meeting your boyfriends mom, was not on your to do list today and this sure as hell wasn’t the first impression you wanted to make. Immediately you changed out of Felix’s T-shirt and into your bra and blouse, frantically buttoning it and hunting down your jeans that had been haphazardly tossed aside the night before.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your hair was frizzy and messy and there were little bruises on your collar bone thanks to Felix getting handsy after your date. After a few minutes of sprucing yourself up you managed to look halfway presentable. Just a touch of make up, and your hair tamed for now.

You were just about to walk out and introduce yourself when Felix walked back into his bedroom and stopped you. “Alright I bought us some time-Oh good you’re dressed” He grabbed a shirt from his closet, slipping it over his head. “Ok, I’m gonna take my mom to the office and I’ll do breakfast with her there with Channie-Hyung and you can sneak out after we leave.”

“What?” you watched him in disbelief as he changed into his jeans and brushed his hair back.

“You won’t have to wait long, but I would say like ten minutes just to make sure we’re out of the building when you come down.”

Crossing your arms over your chest you sighed. Was your boyfriend of five months really not going to introduce you to his mom? “Are you serious?”

“What?” he looked over, surprised at just how angry you looked. “You don’t wanna wait? I mean you could just go through the fire escape but I thought that was kind of dangerous-”

“Felix?!” his eyes widened when you called his name, he covered your mouth, shushing you. “What are you doing?” you moved his hand from your mouth, shooting him a glare. “You’re seriously not going to introduce me to your mom?”

“I’m her only son I don’t want to worry her. What am I supposed to say? Hey Mum thanks for traveling ten hours just to surprise me but I want you to meet my friend that I sleep with pretty often”

“Did you just…” you took a step back from him, holding your arms up. Your eyes instantly glazing over. “Did you just seriously…” you felt a sob, bubbling up. But you were going to fight to make sure you didn’t cry in front of him. “I’m just your friend that you sleep with? How many other friends are you just sleeping with?”

“-I…” he faltered seeing just how angry you looked. He’d never seen you like this, not ever. Your eyes were red, your hands physically shaking. He called your name softly. He wasn’t sure what he could say that would make this better but he knew he had to say something.

“I’m an idiot for thinking these five months meant anything to you…” A stray tear fell down your cheek as he shook your head. “I guess it was my fault for assuming I was your girlfriend” you wiped your tear away before grabbing your purse.

“Wait...Please… let’s talk about this…I-”

“You know what Felix, I’m pretty sure I don’t ever want to talk to you again.” you ran out of his room, mumbling an apology as you passed his mother who was startled by your appearance. You slipped your shoes on in a hurry before making a bee-line for the elevator.

His mom looked back at him before staring back at the door. “Who was that?”

“My girlfriend…” his voice was so soft as he watched, you leave.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend” she looked at her son seriously.

“Me neither” he whispered to himself.

You stormed into your apartment, closing the door behind you and throwing your bag on the ground. Your roommate laid on the couch, petting one of his cats. “Hey, long night?” Minho looked over at you, watching you flop on the couch beside him, taking Sooni into your arms.

“Oh you know same old same old.” you huffed. “I finally find myself in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in and I’m literally falling in love and come to find out Felix only thinks of me as a friend he sleeps with” you rolled your eyes “Meanwhile my dumbass thought I’ve been dating him for the past five months so, ya know just my luck with relationships.”

“Woah, how’d that happen?”

“I was at his place and then his mom dropped by to surprise him and I thought this was a good time to meet my boyfriends mom and he thought it was a good time to suggest I sneak out using the fire escape.”

Minho cringed and gave you a little pat on the back. “Ouch, ok that’s a pretty big fuck up.”

“A fuck up is an understatement” You slumpped on the couch letting his cat, cuddle against your stomach. “You wanna set me up on a date?”

“You sure you don’t wanna talk it out with him first?”

“I have no desire to talk anything out with just a friend I occasionally sleep with.” you snapped.

“Alright, alright I’ll set you up on a date” he held his hands up in defeat.

Across town Felix sat with his mom in the cafe. He awkwardly drank his coffee, occasionally glancing up at her. Almost anticipating being scolded, but her silence was almost suffocating. “Mum?”

She sighed and set down her tea. “Yongbok you’re an adult, you’re not in trouble for anything so relax” She laughed seeing her son visibly relax. “Now tell me about your girlfriend, why was she upset and why didn’t you go after her?”

“This s kind of awkward to talk to you about?”

“Why? I was your age once?”

“I know but it’s just...I…”

“Spare me the gorey details, how long have you been seeing her?”

“About five months...I guess there was just a misunderstanding...and I thought we weren’t officially together, like dating something casual but not in a relationship...I didn’t know that she considered me her boyfriend…”

“Ok that’s understandable. So I’m guessing she was disappointed when you didn’t tell her you thought of her as a girlfriend?”

“Not disappointed….She looked… heartbroken…” he looked down. “I’ve never seen her look so sad before...She’s not the type to runaway...Normally she talks everything out but she just left. And I let her… I didn’t know what I could say.”

“Well are you dating anyone else?”

“No… just her… It’s always just been her… She just makes me feel so happy...” He met you through Minho because he begged him to introduce you. He saw you by chance when you’d dropped by the dance studio, occasionally bringing Minho food or his extra clothes. At first he thought you two were dating but after Minho assured him you guys were just roommates he made his move.

One date turned into another, and the next thing he knew he was in a routine with you. A routine where he was used to hearing your voice before he fell asleep. Feeling the weight of your head on his chest, hearing your giggle when he had to pry your arms off him so he could run to the restroom.

He’s spent almost every single day with you over the last few months and suddenly the prospect of you not being there not only made him anxious, it broke his heart.

More than anything he didn’t want to scare you away. He never wanted to be too clingy, or too needy. You were chic and independent, a little older than him, and more experienced. How was he supposed to measure up.

What if he asked for something more exclusive and you denied him, and suddenly he didn’t get to have you anymore. He’d rather be blissfully ignorant than knowingly heartbroken.

His mom took another sip of her tea. “Yongbok, do you want her to be your girlfriend?

“Yeah… I do…” he smiled to himself. It was the first time he really gave it a thought. “I want her to be my girlfriend.”

“Then what’s the problem? You want it, it’s obvious she wants it. This is the best problem to have”

“She said she didn’t want to see me again”

“I don’t think it hurts anything to ask, you’ll never know if you don’t ask” she looked at her phone. “I have to go pick up your sister from her campus tour. We’ll be in town for the weekend, so let’s do dinner tonight” she stood up and walked over to his cheek. “If you can make it to dinner, I hope you can bring your girlfriend”

There wasn’t much that you could do about the morning, but you were attempting to salvage what was left of your day and your dignity. You treated yourself to your skin routine, a deep conditioning hair mask, and a nice long soak in the bath.

Hearing a knock on your bedroom door, you wrapped your towel around your body before opening the door. “Minho? I thought you went to work already-” you sighed seeing Felix standing there with a bouquet of flowers.

“How’d you get in here?” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Minho-Hyung let me in on his way out.” He sighed setting the flowers on your dresser, seeing that you refused to take it from him.

“Traitor” you rolled your eyes. “Well help yourself out, I’m getting ready for a date”

“A date!?” his brows furrowed “So that’s it? You’re done with me?”

“I’m done with-” you scoffed in disbelief. “You have the nerve to sound disappointed in me? You’re the one that said we weren’t anything.”

“So this is just some new guy? You weren't seeing him the whole time?”

“Believe it or not Felix, I thought we were in a relationship. So no, I wasn’t seeing this guy. I haven’t even met him yet. It’s a first date. So if you’ll excuse me I have to get ready-” You stopped yourself taking a deep breath and rubbing your temples. “Felix, I spent every waking moment I could with you over the last few months. I have more clothes in your apartment than I have in my own. You met my parents, my cats love you. I even brought you as my date to my best friends wedding… Every moment with you was very real to me.” your shoulders slumped. “But I made the mistake of assuming we were in a committed relationship without talking it out. I got my heartbroken because of it and that’s not your fault.”

He opened his mouth to say something but you held up your finger. “Hold on Felix...Just let me finish because if I don't say it now I’m gonna lose my nerve.” He nodded, letting you continue. “I… wanna respect your boundaries. I can’t make you be my boyfriend and if you want something casual and something that’s just physical than that’s fine. I have to respect that.” your eyes watered feeling that you were on the cusp of a break up of a relationship that technically didn’t even exist. “But I’m not looking for something purely physical. I want a committed relationship.”

“Then let me try…” he whispered, looking at with those beautiful warm brown eyes. “Please don’t go”

“Give me one good reason not to”

“Because I wanna date you. I want you to be my girlfriend” he took a step closer to you. “I told my mom about you…” he took your hands in his as he gazed into your eyes. “And I just want to be with you.” he walked you deeper into your room, until your knees hit the foot of your bed, making you sit.

“If you mean that...Then why did you say that earlier?”

“I was scared… I… you are so out of my league… And I know I was falling hard but you were the first person I dated like that...I just didn’t wanna fuck it all up and talk about relationships if you were trying to keep it casual. I didn't want you to think I was some needy kid.”

“Felix… What's wrong with being needy? What’s wrong with knowing what you want and holding on to it?”

“I don’t want to date anyone else… I just want you…” he inched closer, taking you in. Trying to read your expression for any form of hesitation or doubt. “Please don’t give up on me...Not before I have a chance to fight for you”

A soft smile graced your features as you gazed up at him. “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want you to cave into something you don’t want just because you’re scared.”

“I want nothing more than to call you my girlfriend and properly show you off” He cupped your face making you look at him. His face inching closer to yours but stopping short. His lips close enough to graze yours as his nose brushed against your skin. Your breath became more shallow as he searched your eyes. “May I?”

“Are you asking my permission to make me your girlfriend or to kiss me?”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners while he laughed. “Yes.”

“Then yes, you may” you grinned letting him pull you into a deep kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him into your bed, making him fall.

Catching himself he giggled “You’re chaotic.”

“I missed you”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“And you didn’t miss me?” you smiled into the kiss

“Of course I did”

“Then show me…” you bit your lips, playing with the hair on his nape.

“I thought you had a date.” his tone, a little pouty.

“I’ll text him later.” you sighed blissfully as he kisses your neck.

“Why wait until later, let him know now.” he bit the base of your neck. “Let him know you won’t be needing him now or ever. Better yet call him now.” he licked the skin that he’d been nibbling on.

“Felix” you scolded, watching him pout “There’s no need to pout, I never even met the poor guy”

“And yet I still kinda want you to call him, and have him hear me fuck you while you tell him why you can’t go” his eyes darkened, the corners of his lips tugging into a smirk.

Your face warmed as you stared at him, too flustered to reply. After a moment you swallowed hard and shook your head. “Felix!”

His cocky little smirk turned into that cute little smile you loved so much “I’m just kidding” He laughed pulling off his own shirt. “But after I make love to you do you think you could manage doing dinner with my mom and sisters? They wanna meet you”

“I- of course I want to do dinner with them but” you covered your face and groaned in embarrassment. “You can't say something like that and bring up dinner like it’s casual”

He smirked, quirking his brows. “I like what you look like flustered” he pinned your arms to the bed and pecked your lips again. “I like that I’m the only one you make that face for…” his low voice, husky against your skin. He took you in, almost hungrily. From the way your eyes sparkled at him, the flush of your cheeks, the rawness of your lips. His eyes following the curve of your cheeks, the sweet path of kisses he led down your neck to your collarbone. The way that your towel still clung to your body. “Can I really call you mine?” he whispered, more so to himself.

You nodded leaning over to kiss his wrist softly. “I’m yours…”

He lost himself in kissing you. There were so many things he wanted to do, but there was nothing quite like kissing you. The taste of coffee and cream on your lips, he’d grown accustomed to. The way you moaned his name when he kissed you in those sweet spots. Just below your ear, in that little curve of your neck, over your breast. The way your toes curled when his kisses turned into love bites and how your head fell back on to the mattress.

He loved that when he kissed you, you’d giggled. He loved how you’d tangle your fingernails in his hair and scratched his scalp. He loved how whenever he broke a kiss you’d chase his lips. He loved how you'd’ run your nose against his before kissing him again. He loved how your thighs felt around his head when he delved his tongue in deeper to kiss you there. The way your thighs tightened and you squirmed; his tongue flicking at just the right angle.

He knew he had you when you desperately reached out to grip the bedsheets, grasping at nothing, but arching your back for him. The way you shuddered for him, blissfully whimpering when you came from his tongue.

Your towel, tossed aside and long-forgotten when Felix pulled back. Wiping the slick from his mouth with his thumb he gave you a heated look. “You’re so beautiful...” he pecked your lips again before bucking his hardened length against your sensitive core. Not giving you much time to recover. Rubbing himself against your slit “Say you’re mine again” he smiled seeing you move your own hips against him.

“I’m yours, I’m all yours” you whined feeling him tease you more. “Please Felix Nnn..” you closed your eyes feeling him sink into you. He took his time, basking in that sweet feeling of stretching you out.

You looked up at him as he pumped into you, your fingers laced with his free hand while he held your waist with the other. His hips finding a rhythm against yours, while he desperately tried to find more and more ways to make you moan his name.

He made sure he worked you over again and again until you were a wanton mess. Leaving love bites over your collarbone and breast. Even covered in sweat he was breathtaking. You brushed his hair out of his face, beaming up at him. Those heart shaped lips that made you feel so wanted, those freckles that mapped his face that you loved to count, those dark doe eyes that held the stars, and those slender but strong arms that made you feel home. “Are you mine?” you asked him with the softest voice, your fingers running through his hair as you held his gaze.

“I’m yours” he shuddered, loving the sound of those words on your lips. His body reacting on pure instinct as he came in you. More than your body, more than your voice, your words were enough to finally push him over the edge. His nose softly brushing yours as he peppered sweet kisses on your lips. “I love you...I don’t wanna be anyone else's...”

You couldn’t stop the bright smile that graced your features. Kissing him back, and hugging him tightly when he collapsed beside you. His body worn out from loving you. “I love you to Felix...” you giggled as he buried his face his your neck. “We need to get ready for dinner with your mom”

“We could take a shower together to save time” he quirked his eyebrows playfully.

You laughed and nodded “Not a bad idea” you kissed his hair, sighing softly. “By the way, what did Chan say when you flaked from work today?”

“Oh fuck-”

End..

I didn’t mean for this to be so long D: But I hope you guys enjoyed that

∘Tags List:

@skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo @tonfilm @soobinssmile

530 notes · View notes

raendown · 3 years

Link

A story for @insaneflowergirl as part of the @madatobigiftexchange! Only took me six days to realize it’s June. A grand improvement over the last couple months. xD

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4049 Rated: T+ Fandom: Naruto Summary: Trapped together by an avalanche in the middle of a mission, Madara and Tobirama make a passing attempt at dealing with the discovery that they are soulmates. And also the discovery that there is only one bed to share for the night.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Warmth in Winter Hearts

“I don’t suppose if I happened to suggest laying down to rest you might actually listen?”

“You’re not my mother!”

Tobirama pressed the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers and breathed slowly. “Gods but I hope not. I have neither the parts nor the patience for that.”

Across the cavern Madara scowled, looking very much like he was only moments away from sticking out his tongue. If he were perfectly honest Tobirama would not have been surprised in the least to see that sort of childish behavior after the emotionally taxing week they’d been going through. Getting put on a mission together was bad enough; they fought like cats and dogs in the tower with separate offices to retreat to, how Hashirama expected them to survive an entire month out here in the wilderness together was a mystery. Yet the worst part had to be getting snowed in separate from the man they were meant to be escorting with no way to make sure the idiot was still alive.

“When we get out of here,” Madara growled, “I’m going to tear out that asshole’s hair strand by strand.”

“I’m not sure how much of a threat that is.”

“Excuse you, that is a terrifying threat.”

“Not everyone is as attached to their hair as you are,” Tobirama pointed out.

He was already turning away to build up the meager fire he’d hastily thrown together upon realizing they were trapped in here. Still, he could practically feel the weight of dark eyes glaring at him from across the cave, probably staring at the back of head and judging the hair that he kept short purely for utilitarian purposes. If he hadn’t looked so ridiculous the one time he’d shaved it all off he would just do away with the stuff all together. What good did hair really do him? Not much. If his head got cold he could always throw on a hat. Beyond that he’d never found much of a use for it.

“Maybe if you took better care of yours then you’d understand.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tobirama murmured under his breath.

The glaring intensified but he refused to take the bait. Feeding the fire and making sure they stayed warm throughout the night was much more important than tending to the quicksilver emotions of a man who, until today, had been nothing but a thorn in his side at every turn. If not for this blasted mission he never would have been anything else. Tobirama closed his eyes and counted his breaths in and out, in and out, slowly, evenly, searching for the calm balance that so many people mistook for unfeeling cold. It hadn’t been so difficult to center himself in years.

As much as he tried, however, calm remained far beyond his reach. He could keep a placid expression for the idiot across the room but on the inside his emotions were tumbling over each other like a business of ferrets all fighting over the same morsel of food. They were soulmates. Even in his own head that felt strange to admit. So many years spent glaring across the battlefield, several more glaring across council tables and mokuton sturdy desks, only now to discover their connection mere hours before they got themselves trapped inside a system of caves by nothing more than a raging blizzard. Honestly if he weren’t so angry at the timing of it all Tobirama might have been impressed by the sheer volume of snow Mother Nature had seen fit to dump over their heads without warning. More so than the weather he was angry at their client. When he’d told that fool to stay close it had been for his own safety, not to ruffle his overinflated ego without reason. Now he’d trapped himself somewhere else in these caves by dashing off just before an avalanche of snow collapsed over the entrance. Madara had offered to melt through it all but there was little point. There would always be more to come down on top.

Either their client would be dead of cold in the morning or he wouldn’t. Being here with them wouldn’t do much to change that outcome when he’d already declared that he would rather freeze to death than seek body heat from, in his words, lowly shinobi types. Tobirama would rather lose the income from this mission than let such an asshole touch him after words like that.

“Ugh.” Behind him Madara sniffed a couple of times. “These smell terrible.”

“Probably because you’re still bleeding inside them.” Tobirama didn’t even need to turn around to know what the other was talking about. He’d wrapped those bandages himself only hours before.

“I should probably change them. But it’s so cold…”

Standing up to brush the snow from his knees, Tobirama nodded shortly. “Cold indeed. An excellent excuse not to care for your wounds. I’ll be sure to share that one with Izuna when he asks how I could allow you to come home with blood poisoning.”

A smile flickered across his face when the snuffling turned in to barely muted grumbling, probably a bad mockery of him since that was usually Madara’s last defense against being told to do something he already knew he should have been doing. It only took another minute or two of waiting before heavy footsteps were thumping across the snow-dusted rock to pause just at his back. The hand that shoved itself in to his view looked like some child’s imaginative drawing of a zombie, covered as it was in off-white linen turned black in some places with drying blood.

“If you’re so worried for me then do something about it yourself!”

“Use your manners if you want help.”

“Fuck you!” Madara snatched his hand back. When Tobirama looked he was cradling it to his chest with a pout that looked all the more ridiculous than usual when set above a full suit of battle-worn armor. “I’ll just do it myself then!”

“Will you now?”

A raised eyebrow sent his companion storming off to where they had scraped the snow off a few square feet of ground. Dark mutterings made a lovely background tune as Madara dug through both of their packs trying to find the rest of their medical supplies. When he found them he gave a vicious little noise of triumph and then flopped down on to a nearby rock to pick at the knot on the back of his injured hand. It was hardly the only injury either of them had suffered during the past week of escorting their jittery client through one of the most dangerous sections of the border with Yugakure, just the most serious since it hampered the grip Madara needed on his infamous gunbai. He’d trained himself to use the other hand like most shinobi did but his effectiveness in battle was markedly different when doing so, forcing Tobirama to take point constantly rather than switching out by turns.

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Tobirama called over helpfully, not bothering to hide a snicker when Madara lifted his head to glare in response.

“I know that!”

“Ah so you were leaving it behind in the pack, what, to keep it warm?”

Madara tore off a strip of bandage and hauled it ineffectually through the air, shouting, “Leave me alone!”

He should. In truth he really should leave the man alone. Both of them needed a little time to process the discovery of their unexpected connection. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t have nearly half the interpersonal skills his brother did, he’d never really learned when to leave well enough alone, so instead of giving them both a little space he watched the fluttering bandage until it hit the ground and then lifted his face with a smirk.

“Very effective. I’m all but shaking in my boots.”

“You will be if you ever let me catch you on the training fields alone!”

“Go on then, we’re alone right now.”

“Fuck off!” Madara grunted.

Tobirama peeked over his shoulder to make sure the fire wasn’t going to collapse on itself and then turned back to his mission partner. “I don’t think I will. You are literally my only entertainment right now.”

“I am not your entertainment!”

“No, you’re right. You’re more like a natural disaster that I just can’t help watching. It’s human nature, you know? Like a morbid curiosity.”

Even as he spoke the words he knew he was being an ass but, as he’d said, it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do in this godforsaken cave. He might as well get a few licks in while he still had the energy. Watching Madara’s ears turn red with anger was just as fascinating as it had ever been, though having to force his mind away from examining why he was so fascinated was new.

“If anyone here is morbid it’s you!”

“Well I’m not denying that.”

“Be more insulted!” Madara screeched. “I hate when you do that!”

Tobirama folded his arms and lifted one hand to tap at his chin. “Do what, pray tell?”

“You’re always so fucking unflappable! Just- just- it isn’t fair! Be...flapped! Or something!”

“Flapped?” He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. It was perfectly reasonable that he should throw his head back and start laughing, thoroughly amused by his companion’s loss for words. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate his reaction but really that wasn’t far out of the ordinary. For the most part Madara had never seemed to appreciate much about him at all and until recently that hadn’t exactly bothered him.

Right now the only thing flapping was Madara’s jaw as the man tried several times to come up with a response, any response at all. In the end he simply tossed the end of the bandage roll in Tobirama’s direction with lethal force and snatched the closest bedroll, storming off to spread it out across the space kicked free of snow.

It was a shame to have his entertainment taken away so quickly, even more of a shame to know that if he also tried to bed down right now the only spot to do so would be within range of Madara’s vengeful hands, so Tobirama was left very suddenly with the echoes of his own laughter and little else. The grin on his face turned rapidly in to a scowl. Patient he might be when the situation called for it but he’d never been a fan of keeping the company of his own thoughts. Books were much more pleasant. Much less likely to spiral out of control in to dangerous places or earn him another lecture from his older brother. Not having his library at hand was certainly the worst part of any mission he’d ever taken, filled as they usually were with down time in which he had little to do but plan his next move or stare aimlessly at the surroundings.

As much as it would probably be more interesting to wander off and explore how far back these caves actually went he didn’t think it was in his best interests to take the chance at getting lost. If nothing else Madara would definitely tell on him when they got back to the village.

For a minute or so their little cavern was filled with the rustling of Madara settling himself down to sleep, wrenching the blankets off again when he realized he hadn’t put away all the medical supplies, then fussing at them to cover himself a second time. Once he finally settled down for good there was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling merrily away. Sealed off as they were from the rest of the world, the fire was their only source of light. If not for the fact that the caves obviously went pretty deep in to the mountain it would have been a very poor idea indeed to let it keep burning away all their oxygen. Tobirama was grateful he didn’t need to put it out. Aside from giving him something to listen to besides the inside of his own head it also gave him something to look at. Or rather it gave him a bit of light by which to stare off in his partner’s direction, studying the length of Madara's body and the shapes he made under the regulation wool blanket.

Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. Tobirama jerked his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Better if there had been no fire. He’d rather be blind for lack of light and leave himself at the mercy of the Sharingan for seeing any possible threats than to sit here and stare across the snowy rock like some lovelorn maiden. No matter what discoveries had been made that day they were not some pair of star crossed lovers. There was no need for whatever dramatics his face had just been doing.

Digging both hands in to his eyes with a sigh, Tobirama decided it was probably best if he just went to sleep too. It was still too early for him to be very tired but falling asleep would at least stop him from following wherever the hell his thoughts had just been trying to go. Somewhere much too thespian for his tastes. He wasn't his brother, after all, there was no need for him to sit here and analyze his feelings or some other such nonsense. If the fire burnt down while they slept and he woke to darkness, well, he did still have Madara with him; just because he was rightfully leery of the Sharingan’s powers didn’t mean he was above taking advantage of them when he needed to. Perhaps a little mean when the man was injured by, hey, he wasn’t the one who could see in the dark and that was hardly his own fault.

Another sigh caught at the edges of his teeth and slipped out sounding more like a hiss when he pushed himself up on to his feet, striding over towards their packs with careful footsteps. There was no telling what sort of uneven ground could be hiding under all this snow. So far away from the dancing flames his already poor vision was even worse so at first Tobirama assumed that Madara had simply kicked everything out of place while looking for the bandages. It wasn’t until he gathered all of the packs together and dug through every one of them that he realized one very important item was missing.

His eyes snapped over to the prone figure only feet away. Madara lay stretched out and perfectly still on top of his bed roll. Or, more accurately, the only bedroll. In all the kerfuffle of their client running off and the avalanche trapping them in it appeared they had lost not only some of the food they’d been carrying but also their second sleeping mat.

If not for the snow on the ground it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. He still had a blanket and it wasn’t like he’d never bedded down for the night without something comfortable to lie on, catching a few hours up a tree whenever he had to and doing so without complaint. The problem was that lying down on frozen rock had only one outcome and with both of them already injured in various ways he certainly couldn’t take the risk of waking up with pneumonia when there was a perfectly viable - if crushingly embarrassing - solution snoozing peacefully right there. He really hoped Madara wasn’t too comfy just yet.

“What?” his partner snarled when he was nudged lightly with one foot.

“Shove over,” Tobirama demanded.

“The fuck? There is literally a whole cave of space, go make your bed somewhere else.”

“Can’t. I have to share your bed so shove over, Uchiha.”

Madara snapped upright so fast they both heard something in his back pop, though neither paid it much attention. “You fucking what now?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of a second bedroll anywhere so unless you want me sneezing all over your bandages when I inevitably have to change them you will shove the hell over.” Tobirama crossed both arms over his chest like they could hold in all the confusing emotions trying very hard to bubble their way to the surface.

He wasn’t sure what to think of the way Madara’s jaw hung open wordlessly, couldn’t properly make out the nuances of that expression without more light to see by. Maybe if he weren’t standing at such an angle as to throw the other man in shadow- but to step aside now so he could see better would be to admit how bad his eyes really were and that was a weakness he’d never bothered to share even with his own brother. He settled instead for standing his ground until that rounded jaw snapped shut again for Madara to harrumph loudly.

“Fucking- are you serious? This is ridiculous! Where did the other bedroll go?”

“Probably lost in the snow somewhere but I would honestly much rather be sleeping right now than trying to guess at things I may never have an answer to. So. Shove. Over. I will not say it again.”

Ignoring Madara’s voice shouting in his ear was as easy as tuning him out, a feat barely comparable to the task of tuning out Hashirama in the middle of high drama. Tobirama untied his armor and set it all aside carefully. By the time he turned back he noticed that, although the screaming hadn’t so much as paused, Madara had gone ahead and moved over a few inches anyway. He did give vent to a few choked noises when Tobirama slid in under the covers with him but it wasn’t difficult to parse out why. Tobirama was still up on one elbow when he paused to examine their situation.

Which way was he supposed to face? They would both be warmer if he faced inwards and curled himself around Madara’s back but such a position felt much too intimate. Facing away from each other would be blessedly less intimate but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space on the mat beneath them and it would take only a single shift for one of them to roll away from the other, taking all the blankets with them. Sleeping on his back was generally the way he preferred but, again, space was the main issue. He would have to lay half on the snow to do that.

“Just...just pick something and go to sleep,” Madara grumbled.

“Eager to cuddle?” Tobirama snapped at him, a response born more of habit than any particular ire.

“Fuck off!”

Just for that Tobirama slumped down on to his right side and made sure to curl in as close as possible, grinning viciously to himself as the other man stiffened noticeably. He himself was far from immune to the awkwardness but petty spite had always driven him faster than any care for his own comfort. If Madara hated this then he would lie here awake all night before he rolled over to make them both comfortable.

It would have been nice, he admitted silently after several minutes, having enough mercy in his soul to relent and just roll over. Tomorrow promised to be an absolute bastard of a day, not least because the task of digging them out of this place would undoubtedly fall mostly on his own shoulders. He definitely could use some rest before tackling that. Instead he lay there with eyes wide open staring at the back of Madara’s head and wondering what reactions he might get if he pulled on some of that bristling hair. Almost as though the man could hear his thoughts Madara curled in to himself a little tighter. The movement was an innocent one. The way it pushed Madara’s rump in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips was most decidedly not an innocent result even if it was obviously unintentional.

“Nnngg!?”

“Very intelligent,” Tobirama breathed, not wanting to speak louder for fear the sudden rush of want running through him might be heard in his voice.

“That wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck off, Senju!”

“I will have you know that it is taking all of my energy not to instinctually respond with an implication you would rather I fuck you instead.”

Madara’s screech could probably be heard through the several feet of snow blocking their cave entrance. “It doesn’t count if you still say it you idiot!”

Yet for all the screaming protests he went on to ring both of their ears with, Madara’s reaction notably lacked one thing. He never once tried to move away. Oh he waved the arm he wasn’t lying on and jawed until Tobirama began to wonder if he wasn’t wearing down the bones of his own skull from overuse but not once did he so much as tilt his hips in to a different position.

Such telling body language gave Tobirama all the clues he needed to figure out exactly what he’d missed in their earlier conversation. It was possible these types of clues were something he’d been missing in all of their past interactions, body language he never noticed simply because he tried to look at the other man as little as possible. To his shame such a habit had been built entirely on the premise that Madara hated it when people didn’t pay attention to him. From now on he promised himself he would pay closer attention - even if he might not let Madara see such efforts. Just because he was begrudgingly interested didn’t mean he was willing to set that spite down just yet. Some habits took longer to break than others.

And some would never fade but maybe that was more of a personal failing than anything else.

“White flag.” The words were out and hanging in the air before Tobirama even realized his mouth had decided to speak before his brain had a proper sentence ready. In front of him Madara stiffened impossibly further.

“The hell are you on about?”

“I...am waving a white flag. We both need rest. This is, ah, comfortable enough. Let’s just put any further arguments or conversations on hold until tomorrow and go to sleep.”

Madara seemed to chew that over for a moment until he asked very quietly, “Like this?”

“I am comfortable if you are.”

He half expected to have the man roll over and deck him in the face for such presumptions. When the silence began to stretch he wondered if he was meant to take it as agreement until he heard very quiet words drift back to caress his ears, a softer sound than he had ever heard from this man in his life.

“Your arms’ll go numb sleeping like that. Might as well...might as well stretch them out.”

“Ah. I didn’t presume-”

Tobirama cleared his throat before very carefully shifting back to make room for where both of his arms were folded tightly against Madara’s back. When he stretched one out neither of them said anything about Madara lifting his head to make room for it beneath the pillow they shared. And when he stretched the other out with very delicate movements they both remained utterly silent as he laid it gently across Madara’s waist.

It was the subtle relaxing of all the muscles pressed up against his front that finally made everything click. Oh but he was a blind man. A very blind man with terrible vision to boot. If anyone asked he was going to blame every misunderstanding on the man in his arms with zero shame.

Tomorrow they would wake to fight their way past the snow and put in at least a token effort to find their wayward client. Somewhere along the way they would search for the supplies that got lost in the shuffle. But as he closed his eyes Tobirama smiled to realize neither one of them was likely to put a whole lot of work in to finding that second bedroll they had lost, not when it seemed their newly discovered bond was something Madara wanted much more than he’d let on before.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #soulmate au #fanfiction #madatobi gift exchange 2021

36 notes · View notes

youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

Text

Betty's New Look

Previously I talked about Armando's rivalry with Nicolas and how that also motivates him to continue the affair with Betty. I've also talked about how Armando displays signs of s. addiction. I felt it was important to break that down to really understand this post in particular.

By understanding what motivates Armando in his quest to have affairs and understand why the man is so obsessed with the beauty standards of women we can now understand his behavior towards Betty.

I mentioned in that post that I have an OC that is portrayed to have s. addiction and how much research I had to make so I could write it correctly. However I didn't mention or explain as much something vital that I see in Armando as well.

Seggs can many times not only be a form of escapism or control but many times for reasons of self-esteem/worth. If the person believes that the only way they can ever feel wanted or loved is by acts of s. than they will often participate in said behavior to feel that way.

With Armando he doesn't only do it to escape the chains of a pre-planned destiny by his parents and fiancé but because he also doesn't really feel loved and he uses these models as a from for him to feel that way or at least wanted,(I mean the only thing he has that keeps his relationship with Marcela together is their seggsual relationship.) he doesn't only do it to feel like he has control over that part of his life.

I mentioned in another post that women enter Armando through the eyes. He is a very physical man. He is superficial when it comes to the women he sleeps with. He grew up in the fashion world where the standard is tall and thin. The beauty of women can only be found in those types.

What does this have to do with Betty's new look?

Though we've established that Armando is attracted to her personality, he isn't of her physical appearance. Does that make him a bad person? No. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes we find someone's personality so much more attractive than their outer appearance but we still dare to date them. Women are often told "you're too pretty for that man" because of this.

Armando isn't a bad person for that and he accepts to a certain degree that he is attracted to her personality but because he is such a superficial and perfectionist with the body of a woman he denies this. He denies any and all attraction to her for this exact reason.

He finds it so hard to understand why he would still be attracted to Betty and why he likes her kisses when he doesn't look at her as a seggsual object like he does to all the women he has had affairs with and that's because unlike those women Betty isn't a seggsual object and that throws him off.

Lets considered the fact that when he repeated what Bertha told him about Nicolas, that he didn't even think of her with a bad thought(one could assume she meant a perversive thought.) as he tells this new piece of information to Mario he said so surprised and when Mario said that it made sense to not think of her in that way he agreed. In an instant he contradicted himself. In his tone he seemed surprised that a man wouldn't think of Betty so much even with a bad thought but that he understood that no one would? To some degree, to some far end distance, Armando does view Betty as a woman but not enough to actively desire her as one like he has in the past with the models.

(I'll talk more about this when we get to the B-Day episodes 😏)

In the past when Marcela got a new look he commented on it. It was the first thing he mentioned as he said she looked great(Betty was a witness to this). However when he see's Betty's new look he doesn't even comment on it. For one because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings and two because he doesn't want to lie so she keeps looking like that.

I think, in my very personal and humble opinion, that Betty looks fine. What ruins the fit is her hair but it is very 70's office chic. Like lets be honest if they took off the bangs, did a middle part, defined those curls, and didn't apply that much blush and lined her lips, she'd look so cute. Unibrow and braces with the glasses, Betty would slay. She'd look like a cute dorky person.

She IS very gorgeous to me!

I will fight anyone who disagrees with this and I will set up a time and date for it!

Now that we have established Armando's hesitation to accept Betty's physical appearance and why he doesn't want to comment on it lets begin.

In this episode Betty had just arrived to Eco Moda, her friends went to see her new look in her office as if she were the main attraction at the zoo and when leaving her office Armando over heard their commentary on it, once again being witness to the critique of Betty behind her back as none of them wanted to tell her how awful they thought she looked and they were her supposed close friends.

Marcela then enters his office and they talk about how Patty thought Marcela had caused those bruises on Armando, who tells her that the cuartel thinks the same and they start to flirt and then make out.

Just as they start to Betty exits her office.

Armando's reaction is a pissed off one. We see him roll his eyes and clench his teeth while he has his lips tight, even Marcela comments on it.

"My love you don't have to get so upset."

"No it's just embarrassing for all of us." He says and walks behind his desk and sits.

Betty struggles to speak for a second before grounding herself and saying that she just wanted to excuse herself to go to Marcela's office so she could sign the paper work for the loan they were giving Sofia.

Marcela only stared at her for a bit before she couldn't look at her without bursting into laughter right there and then.

Betty doesn't make eye contact with Armando he however stares at her with a concern look on his face, which is very different than his first reaction to Betty being in the room.

Now he watches Marcela sign the paper, he's got a crease between his brows that are furrowed, his eyes are saddened and his mouth slightly parted but still slightly tense.

This is a look of worry.

Betty excuses herself and Armando watches her leave while Marcela starts to laugh(Natalia really nailed the mean girl laugh).

As Marcela starts to make fun of her Armando asks her not to make fun of her and she tells him that whoever did her hair didn't curl it but stuck her into the electricity socket. Armando stares at her as she says these things with his lips pursed while squinting his eyes at her as she laughs.

He disapproves of what she's saying and it angers him that she is HOWEVER in a very classic manor he doesn't tell her any of this. Unlike the previous night that he literally started to hit the guys who were saying these awful things to her, saying that they had to respect her, here he stays silent. He doesn't even yell at her. Instead he turns around and goes to his computer.

I'm not saying that Armando should have hit Marcela lmbo! That would be bad and inexcusable! What I'm saying is that again we're shown the contrast and contradictions of Armando. While with complete strangers he demands for Betty to be respected and treated well he can't to that with Mario or Marcela. Not only because Marcela would get jealous and throw a fit about him telling her to be respectful but because he'd also give her cuerda(rope) to suspect and continue being controlling and with Mario because Mario would make him miserable if he shared even a fraction of his confusion or talked through his feelings about it all because he's tried it in the past but each time Mario makes a joke about it and he just shuts down. He's a coward to face the people in his life that really matter because he doesn't want to face the consequences of liking a woman like Betty.

The girls asked Betty if anything is wrong and she tells them no. Betty expressed her guilt and how she feels terrible whenever she sees Marcela and how she has walked in on them kissing and Armando making it obvious that he was angry that she interrupted them(It also explains his worried expression in the latter of said scene).

I've noticed many people just lump Betty as the insecure girl because of romance and that's really where her depth ends but Betty is a very complex individual here too(and I really want to make a more detailed post about it!).

She navigates a world that overall treats her poorly only because she's "ugly" but inside Eco Moda she navigates a world that actively prays for her downfall and who humiliate her in front of many only for the reward of laughing at her expense be their personal satisfaction. Yes she's dealt with bullying and people excluding her because they think she's ugly all her life but the cruelty that she faces in Eco Moda goes beyond and above.

These people are supposed to all be people of class, people she views as superior to her in all aspects. It isn't just humiliation that she faces for her physical appearance but she faces an over all humiliation for simply being a human existing and even then, even as she feels so terrible of herself, as she hates the way that they humiliate her, she still thinks of them superior to her and their opinion matters to her and because of this, despite their disgusting behavior, Betty still has some respect for them on the professional side. She still respects their authority inside Eco Moda and their vitality to the well being of the company.

Betty is such a sweet person at this stage of the novela that she still respect these people but it's so hurtful to see because she also does this because she thinks she deserves this.

Trauma affects a person in more than one way. Her life experience has been painful, isolated, grim, cruel, and lonely; add the traumatic relationship she had with Miguel to this, Betty doesn't have a self-esteem. She doesn't have a sense of self-worth. Betty, in such a terrible an awful way, believes that she isn't deserving of respect for simply existing, much less of voicing how it makes her feel when they treat her the way they do.

She doesn't understand why her father takes so much care of her. She doesn't understand why anyone would ever be nice to her. She's shy, timid, reserved, afraid. This is exactly why she was so impacted by Armando's behavior towards her. It wasn't just because she has no self-esteem. It's that someone treated her as a human being worthy of respect for simply doing her job and existing.

In the following scene, which is a parallel of a scene I previously talked about(post You Betrayed Me!) Armando's behavior is vastly different.

While in the past when he heard them making these crude jokes at the expense of her[Betty] boyfriend Armando seemed scared, angry, worried, and humiliated to a certain degree but this time his demeanor is different. This time he squints his eyes at Patty. He looks at Marcela with disapproval without hiding it. He visibly looks pissed.

"Did you see her clothes? No one would undress her with that!" Patty and Marcela laugh.

"Who would want to undress her?" Marcela says and they cackle, seriously, they cackle a lot. "I think Beatriz goes to the gyno and he tells her not to get undressed, that he'll examine her over her clothes."

"Obviously! She'd tell him "Doctor could I get undressed?" she mocks Betty's voice. " and the Doctor would tell her "No please, please! Don't do it! I beg of you!" she clasp her hands in front of her, pretending to be the Doctor begging. Armando had passed by her, squinting his eyes and now he's behind Marcela, far away, still hearing their conversation staring at them in disbelief and anger.

"Could you imagine what it must be with the boyfriend?" Patty says while Marcela laughs.

"No! See, she's so ugly that he doesn't kiss her, he hits her." they laugh. Armando stares at Marcela with disdain.

"Again with the jokes against Betty?" Marcela turns to him laughing.

"No. No they're not about Betty. They're about Betty's boyfriend." this time, unlike before, he doesn't change his emotions. He squints his eyes at Marcela once more. "and what he has to face tonight once he sees her." She covers her face laughing.

"Maybe he already saw her." to Marcela this line holds no meaning but to the audience it does and it isn't only for comical effects. Armando is now saying that her[Betty] boyfriend already saw her i.e. him. He is now out loud in his own way confronting the fact that he is her boyfriend to himself, while before he wasn't even able to say it to Betty or himself this time he's confronting himself about it.

Betty walks past Armando and he watches her as she walks towards Marcela and Patty who are still laughing, she bumps into Hugo who laughs at her, and they don't hold back at making it obvious that they are laughing at her and making jokes behind her back.

"Who is that creep?" Hugo voices loudly. Armando turns to glare at him. "Betty's cousin?"

"No Hugito that's the very same Betty but like a new version." Patty says.

"She went with the enemy so they could dress her and style her hair." Marcela says.

"What hairdresser? Because he didn't do highlights, he did lightning bolts." Hugo jokes.

The model and the rest laugh while Armando visibly controls his anger, but doesn't hide it or pretend to be unbothered as he shakes his head at Marcela and Patty and marches away from them.

Compare this to his previous reaction, while Marcela knew that Armando didn't like that she was making fun of Betty the other time he didn't actually voice his disapproval, he even laughed at one of the jokes that Patty made until he heard Marcela call him[Nic] a Multi-Millionaire. This time he finds no humor, he doesn't even feel offended that their making fun of Betty's boyfriend or hurt, he feels furious that they are.

However in the following scene all of that good behavior is squashed like a bug. He sits with Calderon talking bad about Betty's new look.

While Calderon tries to make him be a good boyfriend Armando scoffs and questions "praise her new look?"

"You haven't praised her new look?" Calderon whispers alarmed. "What are you? A beast? An animal? An ignorant!" he hisses. "Look there's nothing worse, nothing that humiliates a woman more, that tramples her ego, that ends her love for a man than you not praising her new look."

"What? Do I give her four hallelujahs for the hairdo? What?"

"No but Betty isn't the only woman that goes through that, my god. Almost all women are a disaster when they change their look but you still praise her new look! It's that simple." Armando sighs. "Look when a woman changes her look she changes it for A: her husband. B: the lover. In this case we have one true god." Armando purses his lips and rolls his eyes. "So then my dear god, praise the new look."

"She won't believe me. She won't believe me. The entire world has made fun of her for it. She'll think I feel pity for her, consoling her, or or worse that I'm making fun of her like the rest.

"Then the time for you to demonstrate to her that you're really serious[about this], that your love goes beyond the physical(goes on to list all of her physical flaws)" Armando looks pained to be the poor fool to have to "Accept" this. "well the list is long but if I were you I'd make love to her just as she is." Armando slowly, repeatedly blinking, turns to look at Mario. "well it's the only way for you to show her that you love her, that you desire her."

"Be very careful, Calderon, because with the simple fact that I already kiss her, with that fact alone, I'm paying in life what I should be paying in death." He whispers. "And besides I'mma tell something for me... to do that to her, never. Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps." He stands up.

"Well you better start to prepare yourself. Where do you have Adrianita's picture?"

Yes I've talked about how women enter Armando through the eyes but that doesn't justify his behavior, it merely explains it. The objectification he has on women as seggsual beings clouds his judgement and blinds him to see past that. While he doesn't like that people make fun of Betty, he does worse. He doesn't make fun of her, he verbally humiliates her by the mere fact that he compares kissing her to a punishment, that he finds her affection to be a torment only for the fact that she's "ugly".

Armando continuedly flip flops from caring about Betty and her best interest to only caring about his. We're barely starting to see him take notice of Betty's interest but he still focuses mostly on what he wants and what he feels comfortable with. He doesn't once wonder if Betty does.

He finds her kisses a punishment because she isn't pretty. He finds her affection a torment because she isn't pretty. If she had the body and face of AA and the personality of Betty mans would proclaim it to the four winds and the seven seas. He would dump Marcela on the spot for her.

People are allowed to have types, we all have them. When do we draw the line between types and actively dehumanizing a certain group of people? When it no longer is based on preference but hatred and fear of said group.

Armando to this point hates that Betty isn't society's beauty standard. He hates that she isn't his idea of woman perfection but he lives tormented by the fact that he still cares about her. That he doesn't like it when people treat her poorly or make fun of her. That he hates it when they dehumanize her, (except he's a hypocrite because he does the exact same thing and he allows his best friend to do that exact thing.) and that he secretly enjoys her kisses and her affection. He hates all of this which is what truthfully makes him a miserable piece of ish.

These episode however are meant to help Armando accept Betty's physical appearance to a certain degree(lol I'm saying that a lot). He is forced to accept that he can't control the way a woman looks and that he can't change it either(I'll talk about this in the next post) Here he is faced with Betty's new look and he's forced to think about her feelings first than his own. He's confronted within himself that he is Betty's boyfriend. He is forced to find a way to tell her that her new look isn't it without tearing her confidence to shreds.

In other words Armando is forced to accept that Betty isn't a seggsual object but just because of that it doesn't mean she should get treated horribly. That the respect she deserves isn't only because of how good she is at her job but because she's a human, a person with feelings and with struggles of her own and that he doesn't like it that people don't see that.

But it foreshadows as well that he also has to accept Betty's physical appearance as it is and be okay with the attraction he has towards her, or at least prepare himself to accept that attraction.

Now as Armando and Calderon talk about how hot AA is Betty interrupts and leaves the office but overhears Armando call AA a mamasita and say that if she ever showed up that he'd throw everything away and marry her on the spot.

She seems annoyed by that as she shakes her head and walks away from the double doors.

Obviously our girl is hurt because not once has Armando mentioned her new look, not once has he made the effort to say anything about her physical appearance but there he is talking about how he'd end all his relationships without care of consequence if AA showed up and he'd marry her for the simple fact that she's hot.

Men really only have the audacity!

Here Betty is trying to escape her comfort zone(though she didn't get far from it) for the sake of Armando's ego. She's willing to face humiliation and ridicule if Armando likes her new look, even if she feels uncomfortable and knows how people are insulting her behind her back, and he hasn't said a single thing, instead he comments about how hot AA is.

I do want to note that Armando is behaving more like a boyfriend now. While in the past whenever the subject of his crushes or infatuation on Models was brought up he didn't reserve himself to express how hot they were or how he wanted to look presentable for them except now he pretends to show no interest in them when she's in the room. Better yet he pretends to be offended that(when the two models went to ask for their paycheck and tickled him) they'd flirt with him or try to play with him. Except this time he pretends like he isn't even aware of how hot she is and only is interested in her in a professional matter but as soon as she leaves the office she over hears how he truthfully feels.

She knows him well and because of this it does hurt her.

#armando mendoza #don armando #armando ysblf #analysis of ysblf #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano #betty pinzón solano #betty #betty ysblf #betty la fea #yo soy betty la fea #marcela ysblf #marcela valencia #mario calderon #morch #hugo

20 notes · View notes