#it's helping me turn those rusty head gears

[jellifysh]

Ride With You (part seven)

Or, Jungkook's Exes Can Really Hold a Grudge

Ot7 x reader (jungkook x reader focus, slow burn, mafia au, the Boys are Crazy, guns, blood, lots of fighting, it’s mostly fighting so it might be kinda boring, Jimin talks too much, someone gets shot, idk how fighting works so this is probably super unrealistic)

A/n: aaaaaaah I’m so sorry ive been gone forever,, I was getting accustomed to my new classes and moving in and stuff, so sorry, everything should be back on schedule now,, so here’s the new chapter!

“Okay,” Yoongi sighed, flipping through a file in his hands. “Does everyone remember what they’re doing?”

“It’s routine at this point.” Hoseok scoffed, leaning against the wall casually, like he wasn’t just about to be on the defending end of a warehouse raid. He was dressed in all black, some sort of tactical jumpsuit that fit him like a glove from head to toe, utility belts and holster strapped around him in various spots. He was a walking deadly weapon and even while relaxed, you could see the strength that he held in the toned muscles his suit highlighted. He bounced a ball against the wall, clearly bored.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, setting down the file on the table in front of him. “I was asking our new rookies here.” He said, clearly referring to you and Jungkook.

You were, in contrast, in ill fitting jumpsuits, your slightly too tight and Jungkook’s too big. You could see the way it couldn’t even reach your ankles, could feel how it restricted your movements ever so slightly, but they apparently had nothing better. Jungkook was too big to fit into his old combat gear so they threw him a spare that was basically the size of a king size blanket.

“We’re not rookies.” Jungkook argued, arms crossed as he pouted like a petulant child. You had the urge to pat his cheek and coo at him, even knowing that he’d probably just swat your hand away.

“We can’t say that for sure, who knows what those organization people filled your head up with. Never mind the fact you’re probably a bit rusty.” Yoongi shrugged.

“These suits sure as hell don’t help.” You snarked, and Yoongi only shrugged again, smirking, obviously not sorry about it.

“Survive this mission and maybe you’ll get better ones.” You turned your head toward the voice, watching Jimin slink into the room from a separate changing room, adjusting his thigh holsters. He, like Hoseok, looked perfect. His hair was slicked back out of his face, besides a lock of hair that escaped to drape over his forehead. His suit emphasized his muscles as well, similar to Hosoek but different in the fact that his arms and thighs were thicker, clearly more suited to hands on forms of combat, where individual strength could gain the upper hand. His suit did nothing but serve to make you jealous.

You had a perfect combat suit, back with the organization. You hugged, looking to the other door, where Namjoon, Jin and Taehyung were supposedly coming to meet you if they would hurry up. You sure as hell didn’t miss your organization, but at least there you had certain benefits. You quickly reminded yourself though, that the benefits were far outweighed by the drawbacks, a shiver running down your spine.

The door finally opened, after a few more moments of silent waiting, Namjoon coming through with a file of his own and Jin and Taehyung in tow.

“Nice suit.” Jin smirked as he walked past you.

“Shut up.” You snapped.

Jin stopped, turning back to raise an eyebrow at you. “Excuse me?”

“Jin, if we could begin please.” Namjoon intervened, tapping the table with a finger as he looked at Jin expectantly.

“Namjoon, did you hear what she said to me?”

“So, let’s review one more time.” Namjoon said instead, Jin rolling his eyes and glaring at you as he walked away. You smiled, sticking your tongue out at him, watching him sputter indignantly.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon began. “Your role?”

“My role is to stay on site of the warehouse, watch over the foot soldiers and security and make sure nothing goes to shit.” Hoseok said, still bouncing the ball and barely paying attention.

“Sure.” Namjoon tilted his head, deciding to just move on. “Taehyung?”

“I will assist Hoseok and watch over the security cameras, making sure to let him know if anything suspicious happens and directing the security in general.” He reported, face that same blank, unreadable expression as it always was.

“Good. Yoongi?”

“I will be going with Y/n, Jungkook, and Jimin and directing them around Ateez’s base once I hack into the security.” Yoongi droned, bored already.

“Ateez?” You asked, halting the smooth flow.

“Yeah, that’s the rival gang that Hongjoong leads. The one we’re about to invade. You didn’t even know their name?” Jin asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Well, it’s not like anybody bothered to explain it to me. I figured it wasn’t crucial to the mission.” You defended, narrowing your eyes back at him.

“Well, aren’t you the perfect little puppet.” Hoseok smiled, no warmth in his face whatsoever.

“Can we just focus on this mission so we can know what we’re doing?” Jungkook groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “And I can get out of this room.” He mumbled under his breath, making you have to hold back a giggle. He smiled at you behind his hand and you relaxed, the tension that had come into your body leaving as you leaned into his side. You didn’t need to worry about a thing. You and Jungkook were on a mission again, together and that’s all you needed.

“Jin, your role?”

“Getaway driver. I’ll be taking Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook, and the pet to Ateez’s warehouse and then waiting on them to call for ride out.”

“Right.” Namjoon towards you now, looking you directly in the eyes with an intensity that still intimidated you. “Now, it is crucial you understand what you’re doing. Y/n, your role?” He asked expectantly.

“My role is to assist Jungkook and Jimin as we go through the warehouse. Directed by Yoongi, we will make our way into Ateez’s arsenal and take their Pirate sniper and then get out.” You said, repeating the information you had memorized a thousand times already.

The Pirate sniper was a gun, designed originally by Taehyung, that they replicated using schematics on a flash drive that Ateez stole from BTS years ago. Ateez could only ever produce one because they didn’t the resources to mass produce it like Bangtan could. The only reason they made it in the first place and sacrificed resources was as a power play. And now, Bangtan wanted to steal it back, as a reminder of who was really in power.

“I think it’s stupid we’re only getting the gun.” Hoseok scoffed. “That flash drive has countless unique designs Taehyung made with his blood, sweat, and tears, and they have all of them. If they decide make another, or something on that flash drive that’s even more powerful—“

“They can’t, they don’t have the resources—“ Jin dismissed, but Hoseok cut him off again.

Hoseok cut back in, his hand slamming against the table. “They didn’t have the resources, but that was years ago. We can pretend all we like that they’re still the rookies they were when they first popped up, but they’re becoming a real threat now. They’re getting more resources and connections and as long as they have that flash drive—“

“We can’t do anything about that now. Later, but not right now. The longer we stand here, the more time we lose.” Namjoon said with finality, making Hoseok reluctantly keep his mouth shut. “So, Jungkook, Jimin, your mission is the same as Y/n’s. Stick together, keep each other safe. Yoongi, I’m trusting you to keep watch over everything over there.” Namjoon nodded towards the older man, gathering up the files, and you all stood at attention, ready for the real challenge to begin.

“You got it, boss.” Yoongi replied, sliding a silenced pistol into his inner jacket pocket. “Let’s go.”

—

The ride there was uneventful. Jungkook’s leg shook on the backseat next to you and you knew he was likely a bit nervous. He always was when going into missions, but now especially since you had been off the job for a couple years now. You both had kept up your skills enough for self defense, but going back into running missions when you had retired from this life was definitely different, even you felt some jitters creeping up on you. You laid your hand over his knee, calming him, and he laid his hand over yours, the two of you silently reassuring each other the whole ride there.

“Alright,” Jin slowed to a stop in an area filled with trees, nothing but underbrush and darkness around you. “This is your stop. If you keep heading straight ahead, you’ll come to the back of their warehouse, the control room should be somewhere in the back hallway.”

“Got it. Let’s go.” Jimin said, sliding effortlessly out of the car. Yoongi got out the passenger seat and you and Jungkook slid out the back, following them.

“Be careful.” Jin called out, driving out of the area.

The four of you walked forward, eventually coming up to the fence around a tall building, the area lit with street lights around the complex.

“No cameras facing this way,” Jimin said after doing a quick scan. He snorted. “Amateurs.” He knelt down, holding his hand out for Yoongi to use as a boost over the fence while he, Jungkook, and yourself scaled it easily. You moved quickly to the back door, spending as little time in the light at possible and pressing yourself up against the wall out of sight.

“They don’t even have guards on patrol.” Jimin critiqued as you all crept towards the back door.

“They probably don’t have any to spare. From what Taehyung’s saying, the scale of the attack on our base is bigger than we expected. They must be using all their spare men for the raid.” Yoongi said, reporting what Taehyung was telling him in his earpiece. “But we’ll handle their raid just fine.”

“Of course.” Jimin smiled proudly, stepping away from the wall as you all came up on the entrance you were looking for. He stared up at the door. “Does this door have any alarms attached to it?” He asked, turning to Yoongi.

Yoongi scanned the door, eyeing it for any tripwires or alarms attached to it. “Mm, no, it should be fine to break open.”

“Good.” Jimin turned, swiftly kicking the door in. It burst open with little resistance to his powerful kick, swinging open to reveal a long bright hallway with doors on either side and another door at the very end. You all walked in, surveying each door. Jimin spun in a circle, studying each closely. Honestly, they were identical, you couldn’t tell what might be behind any of the standard beige doors. “Well, one of these is the control room.”

“You gonna kick all these open too?” You quipped, and Jimin side eyed you, rolling his eyes.

“I can pick the locks.” Jungkook said, stepping forward and pulling out a ring of jingling tools from his belt. He picked open door after door before finally opening one to reveal monitors and controls. “Bingo.”

“Great, then this is where we leave you.” Jimin said to Yoongi. “We’ll be waiting on your commands.” He turned to head towards the main door at the end of the hallway that would lead you into the rest of the base, Yoongi nodding and stepping into the room, fingers tapping away to access their systems and surveillance with an ease that screamed experience. Everything about the way they did their missions was with intense precision and skill. It was no simple feat to be able to take over the underground the way they had done, and yet they hardly broke a sweat doing it. They were truly a group of talented individuals that had come together, and dangerous because of that very reason.

You walked over to where Jimin was standing, all of you waiting until you heard Yoongi confirm there was nothing on the other side to open it and continue forward.

At some point, Jungkook had been a part of that finely tuned machine. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, his face blank. While he outwardly hated being near them, it was undeniable that he was easily slipping back into whatever routine he had around them in the past, easily reading their movements and following their commands when it came to missions, knowing their next move before they even said anything. He shadowed Jimin while you all walked, made the decision to pick the locks before Jimin could even say anything about it, subconsciously watching your backs whenever Jimin was leading you forward. But you didn’t point it out, especially since he would likely just deny it.

Jimin sighed in contentment as you strode through the empty hall. “I love easy missions.” He said, not even bothering to be quiet.

“It shouldn’t be this easy. This place is like a ghost town.” You commented, keeping your voice low. Something felt off. There was no way that they would have a deserted base, no matter how amateurish Bangtan believed them to be. You looked at the walls, mentally mapping out the pathways you had traveled. The place was a sterile white, the walls, the tile flooring, the doors, all devoid of any uniqueness. What were the chances that all their soldiers really were away attacking Bangtan’s base?

“Oh please, these guys aren’t a threat. We’ve squashed them into the dirt countless times and we’re about to again.” Jimin replied, seemingly treating this like a walk in the park. “Them getting this gun has been so annoying. Since Taehyung designed it, it’s incredibly powerful and dangerous to have pointed at you. Having them sniping at us from rooftops has made dealing with them hell lately. I can’t wait to take back what’s ours.”

You hummed, only half paying attention. As you walked, you looked around the facility. It honestly wasn’t as elementary as Jimin made it seem. Sure it was no Bangtan base, but they were the underground princes of Asia at this point. For a supposedly small gang, this was rather impressive. Not that you would say that out loud, Jimin might skin you alive.

“Turn down this hallway, and at the end there will be stairs to the top floor. It’s on the top floor in a safe room in the same hallway as Hongjoong’s office.” Yoongi directed. “As long as you stick to the emergency exit to get up there, you shouldn’t be detected. I’ve turned off the cameras ahead of you.”

Jimin acknowledged him, the three of you taking care to tread lightly as to not make a sound that would give away your position. You stalked to the base of the stairs, creeping silently up the stairs, senses focused on picking up any distant noise that would indicate someone approaching.

“Anyone on the floor, Yoongi?” Jimin spoke quietly, listening for movement on the other side of the door.

“No. You’re in the clear. I’d move quickly though, it seems like the guards are on the move.” Yoongi’s voice crackled through your ear. “I just took down the cameras in this hall, but I’m sure it’s a matter of time until they notice.”

You three crept down to the end of the hall where Yoongi said the safe room was, Jungkook stepping forward to pick the lock. In a matter of seconds, the door was open and you slowly entered, moving past shelves and piles of other weapons and materials they had stored in here. It seems like only their most precious items were stored inside.

“This must be where their leader keeps the stuff he wants to keep an especially close eye on.” Jungkook murmured, looking at some army grade body armor stacked on top of some crates labeled ‘fragile’.

“Damn,” Jimin cursed across the room, rifling through a drawer. “I was hoping Tae’s flash drive would be somewhere in here, but I don’t see it, and we don’t have time to search thoroughly.”

“I suggest you take the gun now and run. We may not have time for the flash drive, but we have time for what we came for, so focus.” Yoongi hissed trough the earpiece, and Jimin rolled his eyes, walking to the back of the room.

“Fine.” Jimin acquiesced, going to the gun that was propped on display almost proudly above a crate with other ammunition and weapons. It had Ateez’s logo scratched onto the base of it, their logo priory shown. Jimin slung the strap over him shoulder, securing it to hang on his back. “Well, this was easy. Let’s go home.”

As you turned towards the door however, you could all hear the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall.

“Five people coming straight towards you. More coming up the main stairway. It seems like they figured out we’re here.” Yoongi reported. “Take down these people as fast as you can, and head back towards the way you came.”

Jimin smiled, rushing into the hallway to meet, letting out a soft giggle that was far too angelic for what he was about to do. “Now we have some excitement!”

“Is he usually this excited about killing people?” You whispered to Jungkook as you followed into the hallway to back up Jimin.

“From what I remember, yes.”

The two of you made it out the room to see two men already down on the floor, Jimin practically running circles around the rest, or rather, flipping circles. He moved around them so swiftly you weren’t even sure if he was touching the floor. He kicked at one guard’s chest sending him flying into the wall, grabbed another guard’s arm that was racing for him and flipped him up into the air before throwing him towards another guard coming to charge him. He then whipped out his handgun, planting a bullet soundly into each of their stunned heads.

“All done.” He said, turning to you and Jungkook while slipping his gun back into his holster. He cast an annoyed look at you. “I really don’t know why Namjoon wanted you here. Me and Jungkook could’ve done this perfectly without you.” He hummed, stepping over the bodies like they weren’t even there.

“Better safe than sorry.” Jungkook responded, cutting off whatever other snarky remark he was about to say in favor of getting the mission done as quickly as possible. “Now let’s go.”

A thud caught your attention before any of you could move, all of you realizing too late that it was the sound of a door opening down the hall. Then, all you could hear was sirens.

“They triggered the alarms.” Yoongi said.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you, captain obvious.”

Yoongi continued, ignoring your comment. “The cameras are still off, so they won’t know where you are unless they spot you and tell others. But you can’t go the back way anymore, there’s people coming up the stairs now.”

“What’s the quickest way out of here?” Jungkook asked.

“There’s are two ways you can take. You’ll have to fight both ways, but you go straight forward and take the first right, you’ll find the main stairway. There’s less people there and a more direct exit out of the building.”

The three of you took off towards the hallway, running to where Yoongi directed you, finding nearly the whole hallway blocked by guards that were making their way to you. Wasting no time, you started clearing your path, launching yourself at a guard off to the side. You landed on his chest, his head slamming against the ground as he hit the floor, springboarding off him towards another guard who you kicked in the chest, then ducked down and swiped his leg out from under him while he was stunned. Taking your gun out of your holster you quickly shot them all in the leg so they wouldn’t get back up, and continued fighting the other guards that had moved in on you.

You could see Jungkook and Jimin also fighting out the corner of your eyes, all of you taking down the men easily without breaking a sweat. The fighting was a unforeseen complication, but all of you had the skill to hold your own, even if it meant using a few more bullets than expected. Quickly, you had all battled everyone blocking your path to the hallway, leaving a sea of bodies in your wake littering the floor.

“I think that’s a new personal record.” Jimin smiled to himself as he stretched. “What was that, two minutes?”

“A minute forty seven, I think.” Jungkook said, patting himself down to check for any injuries or debris.

“Shit,” you heard Jimin hiss, looking over to see him pulling the gun off his back, or, what was left of it. It seems in the fighting a stray bullet or punch had hit the gun, causing it to snap into pieces, barely attached to the strap anymore. Jimin dropped it to the ground, letting it fall further into a pile of rubble. “It’s completely useless now.”

“At least they can’t use it anymore.” You said as an attempt of consolation.

Jimin hummed, staring down at it on the floor before stepping away from it. “I suppose. We’ll just remake it better.” He turns to you, attention caught by you digging around the bodies of the guards on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if any of these uniforms are salvageable.” You said, pulling up a limp body and examining its clothes for any bullet holes. You looked him, noticing a splotch of blood on his side, and dropped him onto the floor, unclipping the golden chain around his neck and pocketing it.

“Why?” He asked, nose scrunching in disgust, an expression probably only Jimin could manage to make look cute. “They look sweaty.”

“Disguise is half of the job.” You said, taking the over shirt and pants of a female guard and slipping into them. “If we look like them, they might not stop us.”

“That’s a great idea.” Jungkook gasped, joining you in stealing a uniform for himself.

“You want us to put on sweaty uniforms for a small possibility it might help?” Jimin said, tone dripping w unease.

“Do whatever you want.” You huffed. Unbuttoning a nearly pristine shirt from a female guard and putting it on. By the time you found a pair of pants to wear, Jimin had joined you in taking clothes, all of you fixing the uniforms over your combat suits.

“Now that we’re done playing dress up, get back to escaping,” Yoongi said, and you could practically hear him roll us eyes over the comm. “No one’s in the stairway, but I can’t say how long that’ll last.”

Taking Yoongi’s advice, the three of you started down the long, now empty hall, towards the door to the main stairway.

“This is bringing back so many memories,” Jimin hummed, moving to fall in step next to Jungkook. "Remember when we first met?" He asked dreamily looking over at Jungkook with a smile.

"You mean the time when you handed me a gun and told me to impress you or you’d toss me back in the street?" Jungkook deadpanned.

You pace slowed, then stopped as you passed a door that caught your attention. You looked back at Jimin and Jungkook still walking ahead, then peeked back through the window.

"We were just joking." Jimin rolled his eyes, voice echoing slightly as they continued down the hall. Jungkook gave him an unimpressed look. "No really, we were. We'd never have thrown you out, we knew from the moment we saw you that there was something special about you."

“Was it how naive and gullible I was?" Jungkook quipped back.

Your eyes studied the door once again, seeing a name plate that read ‘HJ’. Almost on instinct, you struck the doorknob, breaking it and the lock mechanism and moved inside carefully in case of any alarms. After a moment of silence, you determined that, one, there were no alarms, and two, your suspicions were right. You were inside Hongjoong’s office. The picture on the desk and notebook filled with hurried handwriting with reminders of dates for meetings confirmed that. Your eyes scanned the room, bosses always kept valuable stuff in their personal spaces.

You peeled your head back into the hall. Jimin and Jungkook were focused on marching ahead. You would have to make this quick, you didn’t have time to rifle around the room to your hearts content. You looked around the room, digging through drawers and cabinets. You found a gold watch, a thin Diamond necklace, and a bag full of money. You pocketed the watch and necklace (authentic and classy), leaving the money (you had plenty of your own), and finally stumbled upon what you were looking for in the bottom drawer of his desk: a simple black safe. The outside looked plain but it was high quality, had you not been better trained it might’ve taken you a while to pop open. But you made quick work of it using one of the Bobby pins pinning your hair back from your face.

Inside, there was more money, a photo of eight men (one of them Hongjoong, the rest you weren’t sure), and at the very back, under an envelope, a sparkly gold flash drive. You snatched it up, closing everything back up the way you found it, and rushed back out into the stairway. Hardly a minute had gone by, and you moved to catch up with your teammates.

As you pushed the door open and hopped down the stairs to catch up with them, Jimin and Jungkook turned to you with confusion. “Where were you?” Jimin asked, not even noticing you had slipped away.

“I thought I saw one of the guards getting back up. We’re all clear.” You dismissed, tucking a hair behind your ear. Jungkook shot you a suspicious look, but didn’t ask anything, and the three of you continued on.

“Everybody up, the intruders are still in the building somewhere, I want every floor searched!” A voice shouted below you, a flood of guards rushing up the stairs. You forced yourself to relax and look like you know what you were doing, sending a pointed look at Jimin and Jungkook to do the same.

“Where are you two going? The intruders are supposed to be on the upper floors.” A passing guard asked you, eyeing you suspiciously.

“We went up there and didn’t see them so we’re searching the floors below.” You explained, adding some irritation into your tone to make it seem like you were annoyed he was interrupting you.

“I see,” he nodded. “Spread out to some of the lower floors, it’s possible they may have moved already!” He yelled out to the others, moving past you. You shot a satisfied look at Jimin, continuing down the stairs.

“That was easy,” You breathed as you exited onto the main. You smiled over at the other two with you, Jimin pouting at the fact that your plan worked. “I think we’ll be able to walk right out the door in these.”

“Hey you!” A voice yelled behind you. “Where are you going?” You turned, seeing a man stride up to you, with narrowed eyes.

“We’re searching the lower floors for the intruders.” You answered.

“Shouldn’t you be with your squad? Where’re your badges? And your pins?” A look of realization crossed his face. “Unless… you’re the—“

Before he could finish his sentence, Jimin had whipped out his gun, planting a bullet square between his eyebrows. He toppled over, lying in the floors within seconds.

“Jimin!” You gasped.

“What?” He asked, stepping over the body and continuing to the other stairs Yoongi mentioned.

“You just killed him?” Jungkook questioned.

“Yeah. He was about to blow our cover.”

“We didn’t have to kill him so quickly,” you sighed. “We could’ve knocked him out, immobilized him and stuffed him in a closet somewhere, or—“

“I think there’s something I’m not understanding here. If they die, they can’t get back up. Isn’t that best way to immobilize someone?” Jimin raised an eyebrow at you.

“Stop arguing. Your exit is going to be on your left, main entrance past the lobby. It’s deserted right now, but you won’t have long until they start to search down here, too.” Yoongi interrupted you. You sighed and dropped it, Jimin would never listen to you about anything without a fight and now was not the time. Getting out of here was of the utmost importance and no amount of arguing would fix a dead body.

Finally, after what seemed like endless walking, the exit doors were finally in sight, and the night sky was calling you through the windows.

“Where are you three headed?” A voice came from behind you, stopping you all in your tracks.

“I swear to god…” Jimin hissed under his breath, as the three of you turned around, irritated at being repeatedly questioned. A man stood there, authoritative in his stance, staring down each of you suspiciously. He was wearing different clothes form the others with more badges and shiny pins, and had a keener look in his eye. Something told you it’d be harder to trick him than the others. “We’re searching this level for the intruders.” Jimin spouted the same excuse you had used with the others.

However, this man seemed undeterred. “Are you sure?” The man asked, not believing your answer so easily. Your hand shook slightly before you reigned it in. “If you’re looking so carefully, why was there a dead body on the pathway you just came from?”

Jungkook answered, but you had seen him look the guy up and down the same way you had, and that he had come to the same conclusion. This man wouldn’t believe a word you said. “The intruders must’ve just gone that way, we’ll go look for them there—“ he said, forcing his tone to be level and casual, trying to get out the situation anyways.

“No.” The man said. His voice was deathly calm as a squad of guards started to emerge from behind him. “I don’t think you will.” He lifted his hand, pointing at you with a sharp smile as seemingly every guard in the building filed into the large lobby room. “Get them.” He commanded, and instantly the guards charged towards you, guns and batons raised. You tried to stay near Jungkook, but they separated you all from each other, forcing you back against a wall.

You fought back their attacks, managing to keep the guards from landing a hit on your body while staying close enough to use their bodies as cover from the gunfire. Irritation grew as you fought off the seeming infinite flow of people moving in on you. You were getting sweaty and hot and you could feel the excess fabric slowing you down. You growled, the frustration getting unbearable, and ripped the shirt you were wearing off, wrapping the torn fabric around a man’s arm and using his trapped hand to flip him over your shoulder. Next, the pants were ripped off and tied around the neck of a man who charged you, pulling it tight until he went limp in your arms and slumped to the floor. You reached down to a knife strapped to your thigh and slashed out around you, cutting and slicing some of the guards, spraying blood into the air and floor. While they were stumbling back from you, you took the chance to rip the seams cutting off the movement of your arms and legs, making it easier to rip off the sleeves and pant legs of your jumpsuit.

With more range to kick and jump, you could easily flip over the enemies and dodge their attacks, jumping out of the way in just the right moment to make them charge at each other and redirecting their weight to throw them around and knock them to the ground. You used your knife like an extension of your arm, slicing and stabbing, and slowly less and less guards got back up to challenge you.

You fought swiftly like a hurricane, spinning and attacking the horde surrounding you from all angles, striking them in the chest, groin, head, whatever you could hit. This was your element, hand to hand combat where you could just let yourself go on autopilot, groans of pain around you tuned out as you focused on hitting all their weak spots. After a while of fighting, you were finally able to look around you and locate where Jimin and Jungkook were, moving to get closer to them and make sure thay were okay.

Luckily, they seemed to be holding their own well, Jungkook was punching back at the people attacking him, ducking and dodging under attacks swiftly, moving in when his enemy had an opening and knocking them out cold with a right hook. Jimin was ducked behind a pillar, stealthily taking down the people wielding guns in the room down with his own pistol. Bodies dropped around the room in quick succession as he landed precise shots on each of them.

You caught Jimin’s eyes while you fought, glancing over for a brief second and seeing already him staring right at you while he reloaded with a glint of darkness in his eyes as they seemed to rake down your form. What was that look about? It wasn’t the usual hate and annoyance he had in his eyes but more of a deep heat, the kind that simmered in your core. You shook the thought away, choosing to focus on making your way over to where Jungkook was.

Jungkook looked over as you made your way to him. “That’s a nice look on you.” He smiled, pointing to your now completely bare thighs, narrowly dodging under a punch being thrown as him. “Mind if I borrow your knife?”

You tossed it to him while sweeping the leg of a guard creeping up next to you. Now that you had cleared the way, more bullets were being fired, making you have to stay low and duck around things to stay out of sight. Jungkook had used your knife to cut open the top part of his jumpsuit, the loose sleeves hindering his movements. You smiled at his toned chest on display, the black tank top under the suit clinging to his skin like a second skin. “That’s a good look for you,” you repeated his words teasingly as you stood behind a nearby pillar for cover.

You settled against the pillar, catching your breath as you took out your own gun. You didn’t like to shoot people. It was too permanent a fate, and felt cowardly, especially if the person wasn’t fighting back. But in situations like these, a well placed bullet was useful in at least slowing people down. You took your aim as you peeked out from behind your pillar, shooting your enemies’ shoulder or leg to disarm and distract them. Jungkook shouldered in next to you behind the pillar, taking a breather and using the chance to scan the room, much more empty than when you all began fighting. “Yoongi, get to the exit, we should be able to escape soon.” He said into the comm.

“You sure?” Yoongi’s voice answered in your earpiece. He had been watching over the cameras to let you all know if more guards were coming and from where, but their forces were dwindling for a while now. The only people left in the building were already inside the room with you, and you had found the exit so his assistance was no longer needed. It was a miracle they didn’t know Yoongi was in the building too, or else he might’ve had the same troubles you were facing.

“Yes, we’ll be fine.” Jimin jumped into the conversation, agreeing with Jungkook. You eyed his figure across the room, ducked behind an upturned table as he reloaded his gun. “Make sure you get to safety and call Jin. Once he pulls up, we’ll all make a break for the car and leave.”

“Understood. You guys are on your own now, be safe.”

Jimin moved closer to you guys, rolling and ducking behind a pillar near where you and Jungkook were hiding. “Well, this mission became a bit messier than expected.” He said, leaning out to fire a few shots then moved back into cover.

“You could say that again.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “But you always did underestimate others.” He scoffed, turning to beat up a couple guards who had approached your position.

Jimin shrugged unapologetically. “Still though, this reminds me of old times.” Jimin said out to Jungkook while shooting. “I’m so glad we can run missions together again. It’s going to be so much more fun now, and you can show me the skills you picked up when you were away from home—“

“Oh my god, Jimin, I don’t know why you guys are so obsessed with me when it was you who threw our relationship away in the first place!” Jungkook snapped, punching the guys he was fighting extra hard in his anger.

Jimin scoffed in disbelief, glancing over at him. “What are you talking about? We did nothing but love and cherish and spoil you, we gave you everything!”

“Right, having other people in our house and in our bed was loving and cherishing me, I get it.” Jungkook hissed at him sarcastically.

“What? Jungkook, those people didn’t matter.” Jimin rolled his eyes, leaning out to fire more shots.

“If they didn’t matter, why were they there?!” Jungkook yelled. “Who knows, it would’ve just been a matter of time until I didn’t matter to you either!”

Jimin froze, tone filled with concern and confusion. “Is that what you think?”

However, before Jungkook could even answer, a bullet shot across the room, lodging itself right into Jimin’s chest, and down he went. You and Jungkook rushed towards him behind he even hit the ground, pulling him fully behind the pillar for cover.

“Jimin, can you hear me?!” You exclaimed, sitting him up against it as he heaved for breath.

He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping. “Yes, stop shouting. I-I’m fine, I just need to…”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes right now! You need to get up so we can walk out of here.” Jungkook yelled, kneeling down next to him watching his face closely.

Jimin shook his head. “No, no, you guys, you have to leave me.”

“No—!“ You both protested.

“—I’ll be dead weight. Literally. It’s not worth it, go. You’ll get away faster if you leave me, I can hold back some of the guards—“ Jimin said, arm weakly reaching out for his gun, thrown to the floor a couple feet away from him.

“In your condition? Sure, you’ll be real capable. Stop spouting nonsense and get the fuck up!” Jungkook shouted. He tapped his earpiece, making sure Yoongi could hear him. “Hello? Yoongi, Jin, we need you here immediately, Hurry up!”

“We’re on our way, get outside and we’ll be there in a minute.”

You looked up at Jungkook, taking in deep breaths as you readied yourself for your next steps, tucking Jimin’s gun back into his belt and handing yours to Jungkook. “Jungkook, clear my path. Jimin, this is gonna hurt.” You hefted Jimin up over your shoulder as Jungkook took your gun, wielding his and yours as he fired at anyone in your way. You rushed past him while he held the door open for you, firing at anyone aiming at your back and the people who followed you out as you shielded Jimin from any danger in your arms, running out towards the perimeter gates.

The sound of a car rolling up in the trees to your left caught your attention, you hurrying over to it as Jin got out after seeing Jimin hurt. He quickly scanned his body, worry all over his face. “What happened—?!”

“What do you think happened? Get back in the car so we can leave!” Jungkook said after catching up with you all, pulling open the back door.

“He got shot close to his heart, he’s losing too much blood! I have to start treating his injuries now or else he might not make it back home.” Jin explained as he got a better look at him.

“Fine, I’ll fucking drive.” Jungkook rolled his eyes, climbing into the front seat that Jin left open.

“Yoongi, help me.” Jin asked the pale man, who nodded, the two of them quickly getting to work.

You handed Jimin to Jin and hopped in the passenger seat next to Jungkook while Yoongi, Jin and Jimin took up the backseat, turning it into a makeshift operating room within seconds. You looked back seeing Jin had pulled out tweezers, needles, and bandages from a compartment in the car.

Jungkook hit the gas, speeding you away from the base.

Jin reprimanded, ranting as he tried to keep his hands steady pulling the bullet out of Jimin’s shoulder. “Easy on the gas pedal, we’re working back here, and if you break my car—“

Jungkook cut him off, talking to you as he glanced in the rear view mirror. “They’re following us.”

“Jungkook, keep the car steady.” You commanded. Snatching Jimin’s gun from his belt, you opened up the sun roof, standing up on the middle console and aiming at the car following behind you.

Using his gun, you understood Jimin’s urge to brag about it— his gun was exceptionally powerful and efficient, the bullets fired out of the gun easily popping the tires and shattering the window of the cars behind you, making them swerve off the road. You fired at the line of cars until there were no more left, watching them pile up on the side of the road. Jungkook did his best to keep his driving smooth, easily gliding around sharp turns to not jostle you, not that it would’ve mattered. You were built for stuff like this, and nothing would’ve kept you from hitting your mark.

Inside the car, laying across the seats, Jimin stared up at you, vision spinning and hearing hazy as Jin hastily tried to stabilize him in the backseat, watching you handle his gun with ease, and from the sound of tires screeching behind them, he guessed you were doing a good job at it. You should’ve left him back there, it would’ve been so easy, escaping would’ve been much less messy if you left him behind and jumped into the getaway car. It’s what he would’ve done if you or Jungkook were shot and it’s what any of the other guys would’ve done if they were on this mission with him instead. They didn’t like to think about it, but self preservation comes before anything and the path of least resistance usually bears the best results. If they couldn’t keep themselves alive, then they were no use anyways.

But here you were, standing above him on the center console like a guardian angel, and in the moments before his vision started to go dark he could’ve sworn he saw wings. You ducked back into the car, done dealing your justice, and looked down at him. Weirdly, there was worry in your eyes.

“We’re getting you home safe Jimin. I can promise you that.” You said, and he believed you. His eyes closed.

---

Taglist: @justmewondering-recs @zae007live @jcrml @royalchickens @devilsbooksworld @creatorspalace @scuzmunkie @uno7 @dreamamubarak @bbgniecyy @tinyoonsblog @cosmic-waves7 @arin-swear-rose @sld88 @skyys-universe @mageprincess7 @drunkzseok @n4mina @singukieee @elraeeee @ratherbefangirling @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @bex-tk1 @btspurplesky @shownusshoulders @iheartsvt @drissteele @kookstempo @juju-227592 @bjoriis @blancflms

#bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts x y/n #ot7 x yn #poly! bts x reader #let’s pretend there wasn’t a month long pause between this chapter and the last one

[undyingsunshine]

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

#writing this while also writing an essay #it's helping me turn those rusty head gears #i feel like i can finally write things again xD #THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS SIERRA! I hope my answers were satisfactory!! xD #i think i went way too off-topic with some of these but honestly when do i ever stay on topic???? #ask game #undying prattle #ramblerambleramble #miiiight edit this tomorrow to make it more comprehensible #but for now you can have this mess of a post xD

[the-bau-quinjet]

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday. 

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email. 

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup. 

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug. 

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky. 

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet. 

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it. 

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance. 

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you. 

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression. 

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed. 

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working. 

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls. 

-

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times. 

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears. 

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder. 

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor. 

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear. 

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building. 

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through. 

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with. 

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone. 

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel. 

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people. 

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him. 

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do. 

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden. 

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone. 

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others. 

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off. 

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you. 

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.” 

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again. 

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice. 

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras. 

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him. 

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him. 

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off. 

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further. 

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky. 

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground. 

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long. 

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him. 

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench. 

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears. 

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this. 

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended. 

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed. 

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up. 

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation. 

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock. 

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again. 

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky. 

You nodded, still unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic. 

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky. 

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape. 

They all point to you. 

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation. 

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement. 

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear. 

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?” 

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan. 

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets. 

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers. 

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head. 

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces. 

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw. 

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you. 

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated. 

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system. 

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios. 

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking. 

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue. 

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...” 

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room. 

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions. 

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud. 

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information. 

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously. 

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information. 

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned. 

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that. 

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already. 

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room. 

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second. 

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face. 

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on. 

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression. 

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

-

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches. 

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice. 

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position. 

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended. 

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face. 

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes. 

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.” 

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound. 

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them. 

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room. 

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side. 

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #marvel fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes one shot #marvel #mcu

[rebrandedbard]

The Chain

Slightly horny drabble. Geralt has a thing for Jaskier’s neck and a chain he wears around it. Reverse bath shenanigans. Non-explicit.

WC: 1900

-

Geralt had noticed it on many occasions: on hot days when Jaskier opened his chemise a little wider than usual, when Jaskier stripped for a dip in a river or tub, when he stripped for the night and bundled himself into bed. It was unusual considering the ornaments Jaskier usually hung himself with, shiny rings with etchings, engravings, and gemstones. But these were for parties and grand affairs. Day to day, he did not primp and preen like a peacock with a fat purse. He wore only his signet ring. It was a tool as much as an accessory, though it was still something with detail.

The thin chain around his neck served no purpose. It was not silver, nor iron, which at least would offer some barest form of protection. It had no enchantments. It could not even be said to bring luck. It was dull, unfashionable, and did not have so much as a single charm hung from it. It was just … there. A short, barren chain wrought of plain steel.

Perhaps it was the fact that it was so plain, so thin, flimsy, and pointless that drove Geralt to distraction. At the very least, Jaskier might put something on it. If there were a locket or a pendant, something for the eye to focus on, that would be enough. But leaving the chain bare only seemed to draw attention to Jaskier’s neck itself. It was … a handsomely long neck. When Jaskier turned his head, the muscle stood out in an attractive line. Objectively.

Geralt wished he’d put something on the damn chain. Before he volunteered his own teeth to the task. It was a fantasy that had come to him one night. Jaskier had a rather distracting habit of nibbling the ends of his shirt laces. The chain was too short for him to reach. But Geralt could. And he nearly had before he’d come to his senses, leaning too close into Jaskier’s space. He clumsily reached past Jaskier to collect his empty bowl from the ground, floundering for an excuse. That had been a week ago when they’d been out in the woods. He’d had plenty of space then to breathe and forget about it.

But now? He was suffocating. Trapped in their little room above the tavern, Jaskier stripped of all his things, sighing as he leaned with his torso above the line of water in the bath, his head dangling back over the rim, neck elongated, exposed, and Geralt saw that damn chain glisten in the firelight. Jaskier had even taken off his ring, but the chain remained.

Jaskier hummed pleasantly, a damp washcloth over his eyes. “You’re awful quiet, even for you,” he said. He lifted the washcloth from his eyes and smiled at Geralt, catching him staring. “Cat got your tongue, witcher?”

Geralt looked away immediately. “I was just thinking,” he grumbled.

“Is that something you’ve learnt to do? Oh, I’m so very proud,” Jaskier teased. He dropped the cloth back over his eyes and put his hands behind his head, sinking further into the water. “Do indulge me. Pray tell, what has those ancient, rusty gears clinking and turning tonight?”

Geralt glared at him, the effect rendered less than effective by the washcloth. “Nothing,” he said. He finished unbuckling the last of his armour and sat to clean it. There was nothing to wipe away but dust. Even so, he was looking for an excuse to stay. To linger. Or perhaps to distract himself, having little else to do but turn in for the evening.

“Hm, that’s the Geralt I know. But come, some thought is rolling around in that head of yours; I heard it clink against the walls just now when you did your curious little head tilt. Won’t you share it with me?”

“You’ve been soaking for nearly twenty minutes,” Geralt replied. “You haven’t even begun to wash up and the water will be getting cold.”

Jaskier waved a hand at him. “So it can be reheated. A little snap-snap of Igni and I’ve got another half hour of relaxing ahead. Besides, cold water is good for the skin.”

“You’ll keep me up all night tending your water if you had your way.”

“Ah, if I only could have it my way,” Jaskier sighed. “I’d have you tend to me hand and foot, hanging on my every word. What fun! Providing hot water would only be the start; I’ve got a long list of things I’d do.” He chuckled fiddling with the chain, twisting a length of it between his fingers where his hands supported his neck.

Geralt tracked the motion with rapt attention. He cleared his throat began to pack his armour up after all. As he walked behind Jaskier, he plucked the cloth from his eyes. “You’d better hurry up and wash. I’m not reheating the water for you and I know you hate when the water gets cold, never mind what good it does your skin.”

He dropped the cloth back down on Jaskier’s face with a wet plop and Jaskier slipped back with an indignant yip, splashing beneath the water’s surface. It was a satisfying sound.

Jaskier wiped his face clear and wrung the cloth out again. He huffed and began to lather the cloth with soap. “Always so gruff,” he complained. “Here I help you selflessly scrub monster guts and foul muck from your hair day in and day out, but you can’t even be bothered to heat up a little tub water to warm my icy bones. By rights, you ought to at least return the favor once in a blue moon. I’m not asking you to scrub me head to toe—I only think a little reciprocation would be nice.” So saying, he scrubbed his face and ears, rinsed, and patted around for his oil.

Geralt sighed. Depositing his armour, he turned back to the tub. He scooped up the oil and pushed away Jaskier’s hand. “Fine,” he said. “Sit up.”

Jaskier beamed at him. He wiped his eyes and turned around. “Will you really? Surely I’ve fallen asleep, dozed in the hot water, and tumbled into some fantastic dream. Who is this courteous stranger before me? You couldn’t possibly be my witcher. My witcher would never!”

The hairs stood on the back of Geralt’s neck, tingling at those words. My witcher. Jaskier said them so often, so casually, and yet they never failed to get a rise out of him.

Geralt turned Jaskier’s head roughly. “Face forward or you’ll get soap in your eyes,” he said.

“O-o-o, so forceful. Always straight to manhandling with you.”

“Give you something to handle,” Geralt grumbled.

“What was that?”

Geralt poured a bit of the oil on his hands. “I said it smells like sandal. Sandalwood.”

Jaskier settled once more against the rim of the tub and tilted his head back. “Got some new supplies. Do you like it?” he asked.

Geralt did, but then he liked most of the scents Jaskier wore. They complimented him. Not that he would ever dignify that with a response. Instead, he simply began to massage the oil into Jaskier’s hair, working his way from the crown of his head down, fingers lightly scratching his scalp the way Jaskier often did.

“Oh, that’s heavenly,” Jaskier sighed. He leaned into the touch, his eyes closed as he relaxed beneath Geralt’s ministrations.

Up close, Geralt had a perfect view of the chain. He watched it shift as Jaskier spoke. The chain reflected the flickering light in an almost hypnotic fashion. Slowly, his hands worked down to the nape of Jaskier’s neck, still massaging as he stared, his mind drifting. Jaskier made an odd little rumble in the back of his throat. Geralt massaged the place harder, hoping to hear that sound again.

“Soap next,” Jaskier said. He passed the cloth to Geralt, not bothering to open his eyes.

They’d never said anything about soaping or scrubbing, but Geralt was in no position to refuse. Not with Jaskier’s neck angled so enticingly, and here, the perfect excuse to reach out and touch. He lathered soap in the cloth. In a moment, it was touching the side of Jaskier’s neck. And yet …

“Your, uh. Your chain,” he said.

Jaskier cracked one eye to look back at him. “Oh. You may remove it. Just be sure to put it back when you’re done.”

Geralt swallowed and set the washcloth on Jaskier’s shoulder a moment. He reached for the chain, only to find no fastening in the back. He had to turn it, had to watch the drag of it against Jaskier’s skin as he searched. The chain was warm and wet and it was difficult to get a solid grip on the clasp when he at last had found it. But it soon came free.

He hesitated. Now that he had it, where could he put it? There was no stool, and it felt improper to put it on the floor. He looked at Jaskier, wondering if he might offer to hold onto it, then he was again distracted by the line of his neck.

He’d been wrong. After wearing the chain so long, it was now, perhaps, more indecent to see his neck without it. Geralt watched a drop of water roll down the side of Jaskier’s neck and felt the impulse to chase it with his tongue. To prevent himself from following through, he succumbed to another impulse which might go unobserved and placed the chain between his teeth.

Jaskier hummed once more as Geralt’s hands returned to their task. It was meditative, Geralt discovered. He moved the cloth in small circles, covering every inch of Jaskier’s neck twice. He cupped water in one hand, let it trickle down and wash the suds away. With gentle fingers, he flicked away a stray bubble, his touch lingering only a moment more to appreciate the soft skin beneath. And then he was washing Jaskier’s shoulders, his hand dipping only a little to feel the breadth of his chest.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said.

But Geralt was distracted. He was busy running the cloth once more between Jaskier’s shoulders, running the tip of his tongue across the links of the chain.

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated. He reached back, raised a hand up to run along Geralt’s cheek. His fingers touched the end of the chain, slipping against the corner of Geralt’s mouth. He tugged it, pulling it link by link from between Geralt’s teeth. And then Geralt felt something warm and wet lightly touch the opposite corner. A kiss. Just barely.

Geralt’s breath caught in his lungs and his eyes fluttered shut. He felt Jaskier’s teasing touch disappear, fingers curling beneath his chin and sinking once more beneath the water. He opened his eyes and saw Jaskier smiling back at him, the chain dangling in his hand.

“The bath is getting cold,” he said, a salacious tenor to his voice. “Feel like warming me up?”

And before Geralt could answer, Jaskier had a finger curled around the silver chain of his medallion, pulling him in.

Jaskier smirked up at him. He took the washcloth from his hand and replaced it with the chain. “I’ll wear yours,” he whispered, “if you’ll wear mine.”

And now Geralt indulged a new fantasy. Yes, Jaskier’s chain needed something after all, he decided. It needed only one simple ornament to make it complete.

It needed a wolf.

#witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my fic #the chain fic #drabbles #I was bored and saw a pretty picture of someone wearing a chain necklace #got me thinking

[haikyooot]

Inferno Pas de Deux

Pairing: Baji Keisuke x f!reader WC: 2.1k Genre/Tags:  fluff, little hurt & lots of crazy comfort, reader is implied to be a dancer, Baji lives and he is sooo whipped, ARSON, property damage, expressing anger through violence against inanimate objects, speeding, public nuisance (excessive revving), running from law enforcement, some suggestive language, a lot of profanity enough for tumblr to hid the fic from tags for an hour lmao

Summary: You’re stressed, tired, and pissed, so your boyfriend takes you on a ride to make a wish and get rid of some of that pent-up frustration.

A/N: Broken out from a longer Baji wip hehehe, it’s all gonna be little one-shots. I had so much fun with this one! It’s a lil (very) different from the usual stuff I write ahahah. Consider this...me paying dues for Baji angst.

"Oh my god, I want to kill her," you tell Baji one day, dreading going back to work the next day.

"Uh huh..." He's still waving around a little laser, playing around with the kitten who's trying to capture the red dot that's darting about on the floor.

"Are you even listening?"

"Uh huh..."

You roll your eyes and stare at the little kitten shaking its tiny paws in the air and the man who's pretty much a cat himself. Clearly, both are in their own little starry universes.

The next day, you're miserable. Miserable doesn't even begin to describe how out of control the whole workplace is. You want out—to leave. Leave now, leave for good. Tired. Exhausted. Done...and pissed.

A few paces away from the building entrance, you hear a familiar rev from behind, the deep rumble is so distinct. Of course, it's Baji's Suzuki, affectionately named Cockroach. Unfortunately. Oh, and it's nicknamed Cock, but that's irrelevant.

You turn to see bright headlights shining right in your face, the silhouette manning the bike is dark but you already know it's him. Baji rolls to a stop right in front of you and takes his helmet off, shaking his head to loosen his wavy locks.

"Keisuke?" you ask, wondering why he's here at this time of the night. You didn't tell him your late hours tonight, so how did he know? You see something strapped on the back of the bike and point at it. "Is that...a baseball bat?"

Baji tugs on your wrist, leaning out to beckon for a kiss. You grin and comply, giving him a quick peck. He answers your earlier curiosity, pulling the bat out and proudly holds it out to you. "Nice, isn't it. Here you go."

You raise an eyebrow at the twisted, rusty nails sticking out of the barrel and carefully ask, "Why?"

Baji grins wolfishly, dark eyes glinting. He revs out a buzzing beat like a bee doing a drumroll, flicking his wrist rapidly around the throttle and clutch. "Get on and you'll see. You know, you might want to put that bat away on public roads. You look so sexy holding it though, babe."

You chuckle and return the bat to him, taking the helmet he holds out to you instead. "Wasn't planning on helping you relive your bosozoku days."

He laughs. "Please, those are bygone times."

You swing your legs over back, positioning yourself in the comfy seat. After hearing the click of your helmet strap and feeling your arms wrapping around his waist, Baji takes off in a pop.

The bike cuts through the wind, weaving in and out of traffic. Left and right, right then left. The red brake lights from the cars are just a maze Baji takes you through. You look behind and it's a sea of blinking yellow. The beep and honks are muffled by Cockroach's roar.

"I thought you said you follow traffic rules now!"

"Did I? When have I ever!"

You stifle a laugh and press your face into Baji's back, hiding from the wind whipping onto your cheeks. He takes you far from the city, lights dimming into distant twinkles.

"You good?"

You give him a slight squeeze.

"Good. Hold on tight, sweetheart."

The gears shift. The throttle is cranked. Cockroach growls and whines.

"Where? Are? We? Going?" you yell at him, trying to get your voice above the bike's cackle. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, coming up into your throat and dropping back down.

"Told you! You'll see!" Baji yells back. He hoots loudly, taking you into warp speed. Like a comet zipping through, you leave behind a trail of fading red tail light.

"Keisuke!" you shriek, holding onto him tightly. You can't even see how fast you're going, the surroundings blurring together in dark shadows, but Baji's back, his solid body, you feel as though there's nothing to fear. All of the wind is blocked by him. All of your troubles, he takes you away from.

Baji kicks the gears back down and slows the bike as he turns into an abandoned junkyard and empty warehouse. He kicks the side stand and parks the bike. Baji pulls his helmet off, shaking his head and whistles. "Alrighty, we're here." He slides the helmet off from your head and laughs at your helmet-messed hair. Positively adorable.

Your legs feel wobbly, almost unused to walking on ground at this slow speed after zipping through the night. Baji pulls out the bat again and gives it a few testing swings.

"This is—"

Baji swings his arms open and gestures to the tall mound of crushed cars piled on top of one another. The metallic smell of rusting metal is heavy in the air. "Welcome, my dear, to a place beyond wonderland! Man, haven’t been back here in years!"

Your arms are folded over your chest and you point out what the wonderland actually is. "A junkyard."

"A special one too," he remarks and swings the bat into the windows of one of the cars. The shattered glass falls down like fresh snow. "You wanna try? There's a lot of pent up shit from work, right?"

Baji leads you around the corner where there's a relatively whole car, probably recently abandoned.

"Is this...okay?" You're unsure, but you still reach for the handle anyways. The old grip tape sticks to your palms. It'll probably stink later.

"Legal? Hell, no. But the police don't really come here...usually." He rests an elbow on the car trunk and gestures to a tall pile of rusting metal. "You know what happened here?"

"You...smashed cars?"

He nods and grins, flashing his fangs. "Yep! And I also got stabbed here." He points at his waist, where a nasty scar can be found under his dark clothing.

Your jaw falls open and Baji's smirk turns even wider. "What?!"

"You know the whole Halloween ordeal when I was 15?"

"You mean..." You survey the junkyard, currently quiet and just a tinge creepy, and turn back to Baji. Waving your arm, drawing in the air with the bat to gesture the entire yard, you're baffled. "That happened here?!"

He nods. "Oh yea. A terribly, shitty day." Baji moves away and gives you full clearance to your prey. "Wanna help me rewrite those memories?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my stress-relief moment?" The grip on the bat tightens.

"Yours and mine." He shrugs. "We can take turns and—"

The passenger window shatters like windchimes in a storm along with your yell. And the car alarm blares and protests.

Baji's a little surprised by how much force you put into that swing, seeing that the side mirror is taken out too. A huge smile spreads on his face and he sits back to watch your little solo. "That's my girl."

Argh!! You scream while bringing the bat down on the hood, denting the shiny metal in a valley with nasty crimps. The nails on the bat screech horribly, clawing its way through the paint finish. It's painful to your ears and music to your soul. "FUUUUCKK!!!!"

Baji hoots off to the side and finds a pipe from the rubble pile. He runs over and steps onto the roof of the car, holding his hand out to help you to the top. You stand on the roof and raise the bat over your head. "I FUCKING HATE THIS! GO TO HELL, ALL YOU MOTHERFCKERS!!! AHHH!!!"

The bat swings down like a guillotine. The windshield cracks into an elaborate snowflake, the head of the bat buried in the thick glass. You try pulling it out, twisting and tugging. "Shit!" you furrow your brows, irritated and stomp angrily on the roof, shaking the half-destroyed vehicle.

"I got you." Baji wraps his large hands over yours on the bat. His back and shoulders caging you against his body. He squeezes and yanks hard to free the bat. Fragments of glass fly out. Baji brings the bat back. "Annnd, we swing again."

The windshield is defeated. The remnants are scattered all over the expensive leather interior. Ooh, nice red trim, Baji thinks.

"Keep going," Baji encourages while he hops off the roof.

You don't even notice that he's gone, finishing your handiwork on the back window too, tearing the wiper off and smashing into the trunk. When Baji comes back, holding a dark gallon tank, the car is pretty much—totaled—completely chewed up by the bat and your rage. Your shoulders and chest heave up and down. Sweat clings to your skin. It's so rare to see you completely out of your inhibitions. How sexy.

He's about to help you down from the roof when you leap off yourself instead. Very sexy.

"I'm done," you say meekly, and lean your forehead against Baji's shoulder. "Bleh, bleh, bleh..."

"Okay, before we go let's do a final act." He takes the bat out of your hands and gently leads you a few meters away from the car. "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Huh?" you ask, looking back towards him. "Wish? It's not even my birthday."

"Just do it!" He nudges your back a little more and shoves a 1 yen coin into your palm. "No peeking!"

You follow his instructions and close your eyes. Clasping your hands together around the small metal coin in this abandoned junkyard—this corner where you can just do whatever the hell you want. No one watching, no one judging. No pretending, no hiding. No tradition to follow, no norm to fit in with. You make a wish for evolution, change, and rebirth.

Strength.

You toss the coin back.

BOOM.

Your eyes fly open and you whip around to see a mad inferno blazing. The mountain of fire, orange and red, erupts in an angry trail. Black plumes blow up and disappear into the night sky. Baji runs up to you, and grabs your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. "No encore needed, princess. Let's go!"

"You're crazy!" you yell, running with him across the empty lot. Maybe it's his knack for trouble infecting you, but you're laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Baji turns his head to look at you, face illuminated by the distant fire's glow. "Love you too!"

Blaring sirens sound in the distance.

"OMG, Keisuke?! It's the police?!"

He ushers you on to the seat and plops the helmet on your head.

"Ah, shit. Definitely time to go, not staying for the curtain call." He starts up Cockroach. "Hold on."

Your arms are secured around his waist again as the bike revs and takes off. "I thought you said they wouldn't come," you hiss.

"I said usually. Besides—" he nods towards the flaming bonfire"—there's that this time."

The bike darts through the night, escaping the sirens that are becoming quieter and quieter. There's routes and paths in these areas that none of the officers would know. But Baji knows them all by heart. He takes you across an old bridge, distant city lights flashing between the industrial beams.

The adrenaline from the night slowly washes away. Baji kicks the gears down into a lazy cruise, the concluding coda of the night. Baji feels your arms relax and disappear from his waist. You're leaning against the custom, sandan seat with the high back support, hands secured on the side handles. The wind carries the smell of Baji's hair and faint traces of smoke.

"Keisuke!"

"Yea?"

A cheerful bliss blooms on your face. "Just wanna say your name. Keisuke, Keisuke, Kei, Kei, Kei."

Baji laughs and revs Cockroach playfully to accompany the rhythm.

Deciding to spare further damage to poor Cock's engine, you quiet down and relax against his back again.

"Keisuke?"

"Hm?"

"Kinda hungry, let's make a stop before home."

"Okay."

"Teach me how to ride sometime?"

"O-Of course!" he blurts out eagerly.

A flurry of thoughts fly through Baji's mind: the perfect place for the first lesson, the kind of bike design and features that you would love. It'll be a really cute one, maybe not super fast, but just perfect—and safe. Oh, definitely safe. He's so taken into this tangent that he doesn't hear the playful words you're telling him afterwards. He barely catches the last bit of "thank you" that you whisper into his back.

The air is fresh and crisp as he takes you down paths that seem untraveled. Cutting into the unknown with him doesn't seem so intimidating at all. The early hours past midnight stretch long, still young. The world is in a sustained pause—it's just you and him. Baji revs the engine. And Cockroach. 

You open your eyes and see the expanse of the night sky with real stars twinkling in its blanket. Like a rocket burning into space with all its might earlier, and now you're in orbit. 

#baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #emi.test #baji keisuke x y/n #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #baji keisuke #emi.freshtea #MTHFKCERS ALFK JEWLKFJAWKLFJAWLFKAWJF ALEWFJAWELFKJA #the bike is actuallllly nicknamed Cockroach LMAOLMAOLMAO it's in one of the trivias somewhere ADLFKAJ WELFKJAKLFJAL

[gaiuswrites]

Ashore

Part one | Open Waters

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie leave the beach with only one thing on your minds.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.6k~

Warnings/tags: smut, ✨butt stuff✨, oral (f receiving), some lovey-dovey shit

Notes: Here we are friends. You don’t necessarily have to read Open Waters to understand the contents of this chapter (considering it’s mostly just booty bumpin’). You can thank heathens @javierpcna and @whataperfectwasteoftime for the debauchery to follow. It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m genuinely nervous to post this lol but alas. We have arrived. Is it shit? Is it pure filth? Who’s to say hehehe. Cheers bebes x

Masterlist | read it on ao3!

The worst part was, you had to get gas.

Frankie drives. You sit beside him.

The return trip is hushed with anticipation—with sullied stain-glass imagery occupying the void. You've said next to nothing since you packed into the car; the only noise comes from the radio—the preset station phasing in and out as you wind along the backroads leading away from the shore—Journey, Jimi, Led Zep and the like all crackling dry through the speakers.

Everything, each micro-movement, feels stifling— like burning ants under a magnifying glass— each gesture riddled with intention, Frankie’s words echoing clear in the caverns of your mind.

He glances left right at an intersection.

‘Anything?’

He flips on the turn signal, blinking one two one two one two.

‘You gonna let me have your tight little ass?’

He steers the wheel with the heel of his palm.

‘When I cum, it’s gonna be here—filling you up.’

The engine rumbles as you idle at a red light—stalling. Dawdling. The sun spills lazily from the horizon, draining the last of the afternoon’s light with it, bleeding the sky scarlet—emboldening the horizon— and you watch as the setting glow catches the hair on his arm—there, resting on the console between you. His hand fists over the gear, knuckles creasing as they tense around the worn, leathered head. You’re playing a game—a silent, ruleless game. You know he can sense you observing him, can feel the heat of your gaze weigh on the flex of his fingers—the same fingers that had ripped an orgasm out of you not two hours before.

You almost unbuckle your damn seatbelt and fly out of your chair. You nearly break with it, with the unspoken tension filling the car like gas and fuck, how you crave him; how you yearn to put those fingers in your mouth and suck—lave the summer clean off his digits and bob around the long width and—

The light turns green.

Frankie resumes his hand to the wheel, your lewd fantasy dissipating along with it.

It’s minuscule. You would have missed it save the fact that you’re so acutely aware of every fucking breath you two share in the aluminum confines of your old Jeep. It’s a subtle thing: Frankie adjusts his hips— innocent enough— but your eyes flicker over to find the groin of his drying swim trunks tented.

You’re not ashamed to say it— your mouth fucking waters, you salivate— and as if on cue, he squirms again, seeking relief from both the blood rushing south and the blister of your stare. His lips part— the rasp of an inhale as he prepares to speak—before his focus is torn down to the dashboard, an orange symbol popping up in the gauge stealing his attention.

“Shit,” Frankie mumbles under his breath. Looking around, he scans for a nearby station and groans at the realization that he’s just passed one, spotting it in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

You swivel towards the passenger side window, attempting to hide the I told you so expression pulling wry at your mouth. Not that you’ll hang it over him, but you did inform Frankie that the tank was empty on the way to the beach. You hear another muffled curse come from the man beside you, and the world goes topsy-turvy and reverses itself— the act of Frankie making a grumbled U-turn.

He puts the gear into park with a huff, Van Halen’s solo abruptly cut short mid chord.

The car door opens with a rusty squeal and Frankie clambers out, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and swiping his card through the reader at the pump—but not before he squeezes a palm into the plush of your thigh, thumb searing like a brand into your skin. I’ll be quick.

Fuck, you could have cum right then.

Your gaze follows his movements, dogging after him as he waits on the gas to fill— arms folded across his chest, strong build leaning on the frame of your car.

It’s not a novel concept to you, but God is that man broad. The ratty t-shirt he wears clings to him, pulled taut between the plane of his shoulders, the cut of his tricep apparent even from your vantage point; the corded muscle running up his neck flashing as he watches the digital numbers on the screen tick higher.

Shit, you’re aching for him— you can feel yourself throb into the crotch of your swimsuit. You’d have him right here—in the backseat, steaming up the glass— if it weren’t for the overencumbered bags and rickety beach chairs crowding the space.

With herculean effort, you wrench your eyes off him in search of a distraction, letting them drift to the dark flooring of the car. It’s been dirtied—white flecks speckling the interior—and you won’t be able to get the sand out of the matted carpets for weeks. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but you have to admit that you’re sort of fond of it; little memories, vestiges in the grains, lingering long after the season ends.

Hello, remember me? each granule chirped, remember when we laughed giddy for hours, maddened by the grace of the sun? Remember when we burned red that time we forgot sunscreen? Remember when we bought soft serve from the surf shack and it globbed sticky down our wrists? Remember when we when we when when when…

Frankie, ever practical, hates it. It’s a pain in the ass, he’s told you, regaling you with the woes only a mechanic would care to know. It ruins the upholstery.

You’ve had your exchanges about the topic—your faux-squabbled back and forths—and yet despite himself, he can’t help but like that you like it. Conceptually, he gets it—it annoys him to kingdom fucking come and he’ll almost certainly take the vacuum to the mats first thing tomorrow, but he understands. He understands it.

He understands you.

You’re like that, you and him. You’re different. You are made of different things, a compository of fractures and fragments. Mosaic tiles. You don’t quite fit—not all of you—but you never force the pieces into any sort of place. You admire each other’s mismatched bits, those sweetly quilted jigsaws, and you hold each one up to the light and point at the unique curves, the notches and swoops there, and say I love you, I love this, I love this too.

When Frankie keys up the ignition and puts the car in drive, he keeps his hand on your lap. Arm resting over the median dividing you, calloused palm sealing over your quad, his fingertips knead a pulse into the meat of your leg with each bump in the poorly paved road— a reminder. A vow. Almost home.

You think he does it just to torture you.

It fucking works.

/

The sound of laughter parts the front door as you enter— Frankie had made some colorful comment about your absolute favorite neighbors, the ones who always leave their damn garbage bins in front of your driveway— and your key ring clatters as it hits the bowl on the side table.

You discard the bags, plopping the sandy things down in the entryway, and kick off your sandals— bare soles padding along lacquered wood paneling as you head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

The sound of the tap running camouflages Frankie’s movement, you don’t hear him behind you. He’s got stealth in him, harbored there from before. He’s light on his feet when he chooses to be—nimble-like, bordering on feline—and you startle with a bubbly chuckle when you spin around to discover him far closer than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us hydrated,” you grin, as if it were obvious. You’re welcome.

He hums, the note rumbling against the cage of his ribs, and lessens the distance between you with a single stride. “That can wait.”

He rids you of the glasses, hurriedly placing them on the counter, and meets you in a kiss—and fuck can that man kiss. Frankie, like with all things, is responsive—attentive. His lips are fever-laced and wanton, and he roves against yours like they’re designed to— fated for no one else’s but your own— nipping and tonguing at your honeyed whines, orphaned there in the well of your mouth.

His hands vine up your body, so deprived of the luxury of your form - of touch - and he grabs at anything he can— your hips, your waist, your breasts through the cotton of your shirt— their half moon curves sitting ripe in his palms.

After ushering you up to the countertop, he strips you of your jean shorts, your bikini bottom sloughing down your calves along with them, and hoists your feet onto the fake granite, prying your legs wide for him.

When he gets an eyeful of your gleaming pussy, pearled with arousal, the wind gets punched straight out of him.

“Jesus honey,” he groans, “you been like this the whole ride home?”

Your brain is numb, lagging with lust. You don’t trust your voice to speak—all you can do is nod.

“Poor thing,” he simpers. “Poor pretty thing, all wound up for me—all wet.”

You whimper at his tone—graveled, just shy of condescending—and your knees weaken shut before he snatches them apart.

“Sit still.”

It’s a command, there’s no room for disobedience; he orders it with a soldier's voice—that dead thing he wears like dog tags around his neck. Vice grip widening your legs, Frankie sinks down onto his shins, head leveled with your core, engrossed with the sight of your damp sex quivering.

Blotchy warmth creeps up your neck, like ivy crawling over brick.

He’s staring at you— hungry and possessed and simply staring at your open cunt and you begin to fidget once more—riling under his umbered appraisal.

“Sit still baby girl,” he murmurs, softer now and desperate too—intoxicated with the heady perfume of your heat. “Lemme just— fuck, I gotta taste you…”

When he swipes the deft muscle of his tongue through your slit, your head careens back onto the cabinets, plates and bowls rattling behind the wood.

Oh god, Frankie.

He’s got a talent for this— an excruciating, body wracking talent. He thirsts for you something dangerous, something unquenchable; he tugs at your labia, forming his lips around your clit, lapping at your essence— the ocean musk, that sea foam wet.

You fumble through his hair, mussing the saline woven strands with urgent fingers as you grind grind grind, rolling your hips to meet him in a covetous show of want and he purrs into your pussy as you fuck his face, the scratch of his stubble chafing at your legs.

It doesn’t take long, not with the fervor of how he’s claiming your cunt with his mouth. You soak Frankie’s chin— you nearly fucking drown him with it—and he’s glistening with you when he finally emerges for air, pulling you to him to slant his lips against yours, letting you savor your own taste on his hot tongue.

“Bedroom. Now,” he husks, breath hitching as his nose grazes along your ear, and with two hands under your armpits, he gathers you off the countertop. Frankie lands a swat at the plump of your backside, sending you scurrying through the living room with a shriek—completely bypassing the abandoned pile of laundry left lying on the couch.

He smirks—delirious and ramrod stiff—sauntering behind you, enamored with the pendulum sway of your hips as you lead him to the bed.

/

You’ve never been here. You’ve never gone this far. You both have tiptoed this narrow line for months; he’s fingered your ass plenty—you have even gone so far as to don a butt plug. You’ve discussed anal—toyed with the idea, flirted in circles around it like tittering birds.

But you’ve never taken Frankie’s cock. Not yet.

He’s been working you loose and limber for the better part of fifteen minutes, delving himself knuckle deep into your slicked hole until you’re sputtering for more— until you’re downright sopping and fucking shaking— and not with trepidation but with desire. Frankie’s made you gluttonous. Frankie’s made you voracious.

You’re starving for him.

“You gonna let me have this now?” He presses a digit over your ass, kissing his thumb into the knot there.

You tremble, nodding frantic.

“Think this pretty little ass can take me, baby?”

He serves you a slap, plush skin jiggling and pricking pink under his palm. You keen into him, in search of the promise he’s been baiting you with and you arch your hips, gyrating back onto fucking nothing.

“Yes. Yes—” You twist, chin corkscrewed around to see him. You want to watch. You want to watch as he disappears inside you— as you swallow him.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly gone gentle around the lines fraying from his eyes—those wrinkles he’s hard-earned and won, like badges, like medals—from all his years spent under an unforgiving sun, all of that which he has seen and endured. Survived. Your Frankie, always thoughtful, always checking. A goddamn gentleman, even now—even as his dick brays hard and angry against the soft of his tawny stomach. “Because really, we don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a whimper, splaying your pelvis up to him—spreading yourself, letting him see the filth dripping from your seam, dappling your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” you whine, both holes puckering for him. “Fill me up, like you said you would— please.”

Something shifts across his features like a shadow and his expression morphs until it steels— his pupils dilating to a predatorial onyx— and he spits into his palm, coating his shaft, jerking himself with it.

He hisses as he guides himself into you, as you accommodate around him, as you envelop him entirely— inch by veritable inch. He has to station a hand to the base of your lumbar, struggling to maintain his composure—air rattling in and out his lungs as he attempts to breathe.

“Shit,” he gasps, “t-this okay?”

You fist the comforter, coiling the fabric into a ball. It’s a stretch— it’s a real goddamn stretch— and briefly you consider that he might, in fact, snap you in two...

Francisco Morales is going to split you clean in half—and God, if you don’t you love it.

“Yes - yes baby - keep going. D-Don’t stop.”

He pitches into you, setting a legato tempo— transfixed by the lurid juncture where you converge into one. “You- you’re so tight. Shit, you’re—”

He silences himself with a delicious moan, biting at his lower lip until the vessels there burst and it purples, and deals a particularly aggressive thrust— one you respond to with an ugly wail of your own, eyes somersaulting in their sockets.

You’re both impatient, verging on rabid, and it doesn’t take long for him to set a rougher pace and fuck you faster - harder - hammering into your ass until you see stars, popping and fizzing in front of your retinas, a symphony of guttural grunts and carnal praise fogging up the bedroom.

Your pussy feels so empty you could cry—weeping and gaping and fluttering for him as he takes your tight ring of muscle, fucking himself to the hilt. It’s like he’s behind your brain—like he’s carved his way up your spine and nudging at the nape of your neck with how deep he’s driving into you—restless. Ceaseless. His balls slap slap slap against your puffy cunt and you pant— girlish and buoyant with the dulled smacks to your sore clit.

“Please,” you sob, “Please, I need—”

You can barely push the words out—your mind is of no help and your tongue lolls useless, languid in your mouth. Your motor functions have all but puttered to a halt, every scrap of you fighting to stay above the sensation that’s threatening to drag you under its current. The rip tide of it all, of Frankie’s cock, coursing through your ass, tempting to hurdle you out into the dark, wet blue.

“Tell me,” Frankie rasps, scraping through his throat. “Tell me, pretty baby.”

Your response is pathetic—you can hardly dignify it as a response at all. Your temple is pressed into the mattress, hair knotted with brine and sand, and all you can do is coo.

Frankie folds over you, angling himself to graze his teeth over your shoulder—savoring the salt and sex tang bathing your skin, all those pheromones and velveteen chemicals anointing you—baptizing you anew for him. He’s gruff when he murmurs, his beard grating your freshly tanned skin.

“C’mon sweetheart - hng, fuck - what do you need?”

“My clit,” you rush out, needy. “My clit. Please, oh my god Frankie I-I need you to, I need – oh fuck—” And your pleas are mummed by a rapturous moan as he trails his hand from the hollow of your hip to the apex of your cleft and flicks.

Fuck. Fuck, oh Christ—

There’s a ringing in your ears, buzzing you deaf, making you dumb—or maybe it’s just your heart, beating loud and errant against your skull—you can’t say. You don’t feel human. Frankie’s pounding into that cinched channel and playing with your clit—swiveling eddies into your swollen nub—and you feel like an animal. You feel debased. You feel disgusting and perfect and you’re fucking drooling; cheek squished and mouth agape, saliva pools from your wagging maw, darkening the white linen you’re being driven into.

“You need me in your pussy, too?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer him— he already knows what you need, how you need to have every part of you gorged on him— and Frankie dips his fingertips into your entrance, hooking them up and up and in, fucking in time to the cant of his hips.

He’s in you. Everywhere, everywhere—every possible neuron and synapse consumed with him.

“You need me like this—fucking you this deep? Fucking both your pretty holes?” he growls, weaving his hand lower to grab a fistful of your hair, rucking your head up. Throat stretched bare for him, your mewls muddle to cock-drunk cries as he spears you on himself again and again and again.

Yes yes yes fuck harder please please Frankie

You're pleading with him—you’ve been reduced to meager begging— and a chorus of slurs sings your release as you contract around him and cum, the cradle of your hips bucking reflexively.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he seethes, “you’re so good for me baby, Jesus fuck—”

He’s close now—his blissed finish drawing nearer and nearer with each sharp snap of his hips. Frankly, he’s shocked he’s managed to last as long as he has; it’s a small miracle he hadn’t cum the instant he slotted himself inside you with that very first stroke.

“Baby,” he warns, losing his rhythm. You saddle your spine, hollowing out the valley of your back and arch pretty and supple for him— preening under his weight. He moans at that, and through your fucked out haze you have the wherewithal to smirk at him, devious and prideful, a wild look owning your eye.

Frankie has to brace himself on your hips, untangling from your locks to bruise into the pillow of your skin— gripping on for dear fucking life as he plows you. You’re strangling him. You’re strangling the thick of his cock until he’s dizzy with it—until he’s feral and blind and he can’t hold on, can’t keep fighting this fucking monsoon that’s raging in his core.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—fuck me, oh shit—” He shouts, spurting inside you thrust for thrust, painting your virgin walls with his seed. It’s too much— after all that, and you’re still too tight— and he’s overstimulated to the point of delirium. Frankie roots himself still, cum dribbling out your stuffed hole while he rides out the high of his orgasm—his vision, his senses, his goddamn soul, slowly oozing back into him. When he slides free from you, he does so with a pained heave, leaving you yawning with his absence.

You feel shredded. Vacant. You’ve been sent to another fucking dimension all together.

Without wasting another second, Frankie claws you up. You’re easy and malleable, bones and muscles too strung out to protest, and he whirls you around to bar you to his chest—crushing your sweaty body to his with bullet marred arms— the same arms that have taken lives, that have spared them, too. The same arms that link around you, delicate and daisy-chained, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

And you are.

You are.

Frankie kisses you breathless, drinking rich from your cup— tongue greedy and reverent as he kneels there at your altar, praying his sins into your mouth.

So gorgeous, he croons, peppering your face—your flushed cheeks, your perspired brow—with his lips as he tells you over and over and over again.

So good for me, pretty baby

Was that okay?

Fuck, you’re a dream

You’re my best girl—you’re my only girl

Was that okay?

God, you’re my whole fucking world

Was that okay? Was I okay?

Are you okay?

You swoon, helpless to the contented sigh that seeps out from you like mist. You’ve gone limp against the breadth of him. He has reduced you to rubber, left wobbling in his grasp, and you’re so damn full—your heart and your body—all of it. You feel unequivocally complete. You feel safe, you feel home.

You are home. Francisco is home.

He’s flattening out the nest of your hair, taming the damage he previously delivered to it, earning from you a sleepy grin into the muggy crook of his neck. And with the last of your waning strength you hold his pieces up to the light—the light you left on in the hall as the night grew dark around you, the one who’s yellow glow your naked bodies bask in now, and you say

I love you

I love this

I love this too

tags:

@krissology @heartsofbeskar @madhattervanessa @andiesturgss @sharkbait77 @tenderwhat @javier-pena @pedros-mustache @frannyzooey @chasingdreamer @djarinsbeskar @thosewickedlovelies @juletheghoul @not-the-droids @filthybookworm @pilothusband @letterfromvienna @keeper0fthestars @greatcircle79 @day-off-inkyoto @mermaidxatxheart @lawfulgranola @heatherbel @quica-quica-quica @stuckonthefiction @janesbrontes

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #Frankie morales fanfic #Frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie x you #frankie x reader

[strawbearisamu]

promises [summer collection: vol 3]

❀ timeskip! matsukawa issei x gn! reader | wc: 1.2k

summary: snapshots of the promises he made you, 8 years at a time from when you were 8 to 16 and finally a proposal at 24.

note: volumes are not connected this is a standalone story.

"hey! you can trust me," he smirked.

"oh yeah? do you remember the first promise you made?" you grinned.

❀ eight — accidents

in the sweltering heat of the sun, slippers warm from the heat, slapping against the tarmac in your little cul-de-sac, you chased him. the humidity of summer enveloping you, you wipe the sheen of sweat off your forehead, panting to catch your breath, "i give up, you win issei!"

he beamed in response, so obnoxious yet so pure, you couldn't help the little smile that graced your lips too.

"that means you have to try it! ride the bike side to side, it'll go faster!"

"side to side?" you asked, a little unsure of what he meant, getting on your little bicycle.

"yeah! it'll work, trust me," he boasted, "i saw it on tv!"

"promise?" you asked, fingers gripping a little tighter on the worn rubber handles of your bike.

"promise!" eight-year-old issei said in excitement before riding off ahead of you.

"side to side," you mumble under your breath, before pedaling up the slope, fast, your younger self blissfully ignorant of the burn in your calves and thighs, you steer your bike towards the left, then the right, then the left, and again and again. somehow convincing yourself that it was working, you gave him a thumbs-up as he looked back towards you, "catch up slowpoke!"

"i will!" you huffed at him, provoked, speeding up, as the gears of the bike started whirring louder, the wind whistling in your ear. you reach a hard corner and issei is still way ahead of you, one harsh turn tips the scales in the equilibrium of gravity as you crash and collide onto the ground.

"yn!" issei shouts, turning back and pedaling towards you.

you sniffled a little, rubbing the bloody gash on your knees, hands now a little grimy and stained from the tarmac, the rough road scraping your arms and knees, blood running along your elbows.

"you promised it would work!" you frown at him, as he leaned towards you, poking your bruise in curiosity, "OW!"

"i'm sorry y/n! they said it on tv!" he said panicked, scratching his head, before pushing you back to his house as you sat on his bike. his mom horrified at the wound, patching you up and forcing her son to apologise to you again.

"okay that's a little unfair, i was 8!" he crossed his arms.

"okay fine. ah! what about that one time!" your eyes lit up as you recalled the memory.

❀ sixteen — sneaking out

"issei," you squeezed his forearm, "we'll be fine right?"

"relax, i've done this before, we'll be fine." he assured, a playful glint in his eye. "i promise, don’t you trust me?" he inched down towards you as you nodded.

and so the both of you snuck past the napping guard, the small rusty back gate creaking as he gently pried it open, grabbing onto your wrist and dragging you along behind him, navigating the overgrown path.

giggling, you clutched onto your bags and each other as you ran, in the sports shoes you changed into just for this, in the humid summer heat, uniforms clinging onto the layer of sweat on your skin, palms sweaty against each others, a burning ache in your calves and thighs as you tried to keep up with him.

tapping your cards hastily, and hopping onto the first train. settling onto the seats of the semi-packed train. with the cool air of the air conditioning blowing in your face, and issei by your side, you still yourself in the moment, admiring him, his face, memorising the texture his curls, the slant in his lids, the curve of his lips, the scenery beyond the windows, imprinting it all in your mind, hoping you would never forget, only smiling when he raised a brow at you.

four stops later, you guys arrive at your destination. all the elaborate stealth just to eat at your favourite little ramen shop tucked away at the fourth stop. the both of you bursting into adrenaline-fuelled giggles as soon as you stepped onto the platform.

—

you slurped the last of your ramen, letting out a satisfying sigh. "we actually did it!" you grinned, proud. you and issei occupying two of the eight limited counter seats in the cramped little shop.

"we sure did," he smiled at you, resting a palm on your head before wiping away the layer of sweat on his forehead as you stared. "something on my face?" he teased, eyes finally meeting yours as your gazes lingered on one another, allowing yourselves the privilege to indulge. his deep-set eyes boring into yours with an emotion so raw and indescribable that even in the years you would spend apart, you would never forget them.

"aha! another broken promise, we were called into office the next day issei, and i distinctly remember you saying we would never get caught," you snickered.

"hey none of that matters now, only the promise i'll make you today," he defended, reaching across the candle-lit table for your hand.

❀ twenty-four — proposals

"yn," he reached into the pocket of his blazer with his free hand, pulling out a red, velvet box, popping it open to reveal a ring.

you let out a soft gasp, your bottom lip quivering slightly as you blink back the tears welling in your eyes.

"yn, i may have broken a lot of our promises, and i will admit i’ve been a bit of an asshole. but this time, i promise you, i will do everything in my power to be a damn near perfect partner for you, to make you the happiest spouse, to love you through thick and thin, through the good and the bad, through everything. as long as i’m with you.”

"issei…” a tear rolling down your cheek, “you promise?" you whispered.

"i promise." he nodded, thumb gently caressing your cheeks, wiping away the tear. the same grey eyes from 8 years ago boring into yours once again.

"that's what you said all those times too," you laugh.

"i guess you'll just have to trust me again, will you marry me?" he smiled.

"issei, i’ve never said no to all your dumb ideas, not when we were eight, not when we were sixteen," you paused, gaze falling to the ring in his hand then back at him as you soaked in the moment. the soft candle light illuminating his face, his eyes sparkling a little as they reflected the light, curls falling softly, the expectant look on his face as he fiddled the ring between his fingers.

"so are you marrying me or not?" he pouted a little in frustration.

"and i certainly am not saying no at twenty-four, yes, of course i'll marry you issei." the smile on his lips widen impossibly, impatiently sliding the ring onto your ring finger, as though he couldn't wait another moment longer.

"i can't believe you said yes, now you're stuck with me forever," a goofy smile playing on his lips, issei gets up, moving towards you, pulling your sitting form into a hug. "i love you so much," his leans his forehead against yours before guiding the back of your head into his chest, an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"we still have to do a ceremony dumbass and you better not break your promise again," you warned, voice muffed into his top as he kissed the top of your head, "i won't babe."

sol’s comments ❀: wahaha self indulgence again :> that whole bicycle thing is based on a true story and im positive he meant sway side to side instead of steer side to side now that ive watched yowamushi pedal (aka now that im a pro cyclist). also me and my bff used to sneak out a lot during free sessions so the 2nd part was inspired by that hehe.

m.list ·˚ ༘ ꒱ | each and every reblop is appreciated ☻ (+ free hugs)

#sweet by sol 💗 #sol’s summer collection ☀️ #🌟 strawbeari specials ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ #mattsukawa fluff #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa imagines #matsukawa issei #matsukawa fluff #matsukawa x reader #mattsukawa x reader #mattsukawa issei #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #hq x reader #i made something! — sol ⋆·˚ ༘ *

[tomtenadia]

Families - part 2

This is the following part to the fic I wrote for the prompt Single parents.

PART 1

It will likely have one or two more parts.

-----

A few months had passed and the season shifted and winter had eventually fallen on Orynth, bringing snow and its usual cold temperatures. The arrival of winter meant as well winter festival and if there was something Orynth excelled at was to celebrate that season and the solstice. The usual winter fair was sprawling in the central area of town, with food vendors, stalls and the major attraction; the ice rink.

The fair was the reason why now Rowan was in his car with his daughter, driving to Aelin’s place to pick up her and Aisling. 

They had kept their promise and the four of them had become quite close. The girls would have sleepovers and Aelin had been more than happy to look after Astrid when Rowan was on a night shift at the hospital. On a handful of occasions, on his day off he had reciprocated and Aisling spent the day with them.

Once the fair had started, Rowan had asked Aelin and her daughter to go out skating. He loved skating, and ice and everything connected with winter. Astrid instead had become obsessed with skating after her dad took her to a hockey game. At eight she was now totally hooked and had also asked to join a club, so Rowan had signed up to a junior ice hockey team and now his daughter was looking forward to show off her skills on the ice.

They arrived at the house not long after and Aelin and Aisling were on the pavement waiting for them.

“Hello stranger,” said Aelin getting in the car seat behind him and with her hand brushed his shoulder. Although nothing official had happened between them he had not missed the sneaky glances, the shy touches that both of them had been exchanging.

“Hi Astrid,” she added brushing the girl’s head “looking forward to show off? Your dad tells me that you are really good on the skates.”

The girl beamed proudly “I have been teaching dad. He is clumsy.”

Rowan chuckled “I am just rusty. I used to play hockey, but I haven’t been much on the ice in a long time, young lady.” He replied saving his dignity. He listened to Aelin engage with his daughter and a part of him was jealous of her easiness. He loved his daughter and did his best to keep her happy, but sometimes he felt like he did not have the same connection that Astrid had with Aelin. He blamed it on him being a man, he just hoped he was not letting her down.

Once all parked up they got off the car and started walking to the ice rink.

“Dad, can we have hot chocolate later?”

“If you behave.” 

Astrid grabbed her own skates from the trunk and hugged her dad “I always do.”

They let the girl walk in front of them and Aelin hooked her arms with Rowan’s as they reached the rink “I have a confession.” She said quietly, searching for his green eyes.

Rowan lifted an eyebrow in a question.

“I don’t know how to skate.”

Rowan chuckled and patted her hand “it’s fine, I’ve got you.”

Aelin’s heart raced at those words. Maybe she was imagining more than what he actually meant but for an instant she felt as if there was a deeper meaning in that statement.

At the ticket booth Rowan paid for all of them and they grabbed their gear. Astrid and Aisling already at the rink side and ready to go.

“Dad, can we go?” Shouted an impatient Astrid.

Rowan exchanged a glance with Aelin and she shrugged.

“Go, but be careful and keep an eye on Aisling. She is not as good a skater as you.”

Astrid grinned and the two girls disappeared on the ice.

In the meantime Aelin had sat down and was donning her ice skates. Rowan crouched down and helped her. Then he sat next to her and donned his pair. Once ready he helped her stand. Gently he fixed her scarf around her neck “it’s cold.” He told her while his finger lingered a bit longer than needed. 

“Let’s go,” he told her while offering her a gloved hand. Aelin took it and together they entered the rink. Aelin felt unstable the second she set foot on the ice and crashed against him. Rowan pulled her closer to him “steady.” He looked at her and huffed a laugh.

“Are you making fun of me?” She asked outraged at his reaction.

“No,” he shook his head and fixed her wooly hat “your hat was askew and it made you look cute.”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” her hand on his chest “are you flirting with me?”

Rowan winked and moved a bit away and left her but Aelin shouted that she needed help, so Rowan came back, grabbed her hands and turned around so that he was skating backwards and pulling her with him.

“Show off.”

“I told you I played hockey.”

“Were you good?”

 He made her pirouette slowly and laughed “I almost went professional but during one game I injured my knee pretty badly and I had to give up.”

“That sucks.”

Rowan shrugged “I went into med school instead. I ended up finding another path I loved.”

She crashed again against his chest and loved the feeling of her cheek against his hard muscles. And his scent. Rowan smelled of pine and snow. She inhaled deeply and a moment later she felt his strong arms around her “You and I should go on a date.” He said quietly while he kept dragging her around the rink. She looked up at him and saw tenderness in his green eyes. She hadn’t imagined it. The feelings, whatever was blossoming between was there had not been her imagination.

“If I survive this ice skating outing, you can take me out.”

“Good,” in that instant their daughters whizzed past them and Aelin laughed “they are having fun.”

“Astrid has been counting the days for this evening. She really likes it when you two are around.”

“She is not the only one…” and she hugged him tighter and Rowan squeezed her shoulders.

“I have a very good babysitter, She has been doing it for years. She can be trusted.” He explained to her “I can’t use my neighbour at night. She is elderly and she only helps me during the day.”

Aelin nodded “if you trust her I am happy, but we will have to pay her double and I want to cover my share.”

Rowan was about to protest but Aelin stopped him with a finger on his lips “No buts. She is looking after my daughter as well, so it’s on me too. Don’t fight me on this.”

Rowan’s hand rose in a yielding motion “you win.”

The evening ended without incidents and they all made it out of the rink alive. They had dinner at one of the vendors, the four of them sitting at the picnic tables in the warm area. Aelin even convinced him to eat a chocolate covered pretzel.

Eventually the evening came to an end with Rowan claiming that it was getting close to bed time for the girls and when they tried to protest Aelin joined him in saying that they had school the following day and promising another evening out not on a school night.

Rowan drove Aelin and Aisling back home and on the door they agreed on a day for their fate and Aelin sealed the deal with a kiss on his cheek.

—

It was the Saturday and Aelin was in front of Rowan’s door with Aisling at her side “Will you promise you will be nice? The young lady is here to look after you and Astrid.” 

Yes, mum.” 

Aelin rang the bell and Rowan opened the door and she gasped. He had worn a pair of jeans, a black shirt and he was now donning his coat. Her heart raced madly in her chest. The man was even more stunning than usual.

“Sorry we are a bit late, there was traffic.”

Rowan shook his head and motioned to come inside.

Astrid came running down the stairs and the two girls disappeared upstairs once again. The two adults had a few words with the babysitter and eventually left.

“Do you think Evangeline will be okay with two of them?”

Rowan laughed “I imparted upon Astrid the need to behave or I will reduce her book money allowance.”

“That is cruel,” commented Aelin who loved the idea that he gave his daughter an allowance to buy books.

“But it works. Since she had started reading she always needs to have a book with her. She loves it. I used the no hockey threat two days ago so I have to change from time to time.”

Aelin joined his hand on the gear “I am glad we are doing this.”

“Me too,” he replied, squeezing her hand back while at the traffic lights “I have been meaning to ask for a while but I never knew if it was just me or you reciprocated as well. Then the ice rink evening I had my answer so I gathered my courage and asked.”

Aelin laughed “I had the same debate. I kept thinking that it was just me.”

They arrived at the restaurant ten minutes later and as he helped her to get out of the car Rowan could not look away from her. Aelin was wearing a lovely blue dress that matched her eyes, her hair was tied up in a lovely French braid. She looked amazing. Once inside the restaurants, they sat, and Aelin could not believe where she was. He had taken her to a very high end restaurant, one she had read about but always thought was far out of her league. She was glad she had dressed nicely.

“How did you pull this off? Even a uni lecturer like me knows that this place has a crazy waiting list.”

Rowan laughed “The wife of one my colleagues, she is the head chef here. I just asked a favour.”

“This place is classy.” Aelin added “I hope that it’s not one of those places where the price is bigger than the portions.”

Rowan chuckled and filled her glass with wine “Definitely not, I promise. The food is really superb.”

They ordered and their food came very quickly and Aelin was impressed by the plates in front of her. The food looked amazing and the portions definitely generous.

She took a few bites then a sip of wine and braced herself for the conversation she wanted to have with him and hoped it did not ruin the atmosphere.

“Rowan, where are we going with this?” She asked, looking at him “We have daughters. Two girls who like each other very much and connect because they both have something in common.” She paused to gather her thoughts “I know it’s just the first date, but our situation is different. I have to think about Aisling. Allowing you in means letting you in her life as well. I can’t do flings, Rowan.” She finished quietly.

Rowan sighed and took a bite of his food, then placed his fork down and took her hand “I had the same speech ready in my head. Our daughters have the priority and I agree, we need to be careful. All I can say is that you are the first woman since my wife died that I ever felt any interest in.” He brought their twinned hands to his mouth “You are incredible and I want this to work out and not just for our daughters. I think we need some happiness.”

Aelin almost burst into tears “I want this too. You have no idea how much. But I am so rusty.”

“Hey,” he reached out with his hand and stroked her cheek “I am rusty too, but there is no rush. One step at a time.”

Aelin nodded and they went back to eating for a moment.

“Do you think we should tell the girls?” Rowan’s question was cautious.

“Let’s have a few more dates than we can just tell them.”

Rowan nodded.

The meal finished, the bill came and now they were walking in the park while snowflakes fell from the sky.

Rowan took her hand in his “it’s snowing.”

Aelin freed it and walked a few step away from him and started circling under the snow, her mouth wide open. Rowan stared at her and laughed at the scene and at the joy emanating from Aelin. And while he stared at her, dancing in the snow he realised that his feelings for her were far deeper that he thought. In the few months they had gotten closer he realised that she made him happy. Aelin made him feel again the array of emotions that he thought he had lost a long time ago. She made him feel alive and in that instant he realised he wanted her in his life. With him and Astrid. The four of them.

He took a step toward her and wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her closer. She looked up at him and the smile she gave him was pure sunlight. He kissed her. Deeply while his hand brushed her face. She opened for him and Rowan put all his love into the kiss.

“I love you.” He said softly against her lips, not letting her go. Never letting her go. They were each other light out of the pit that their lives had been for almost eight years.

A second chance at being a family.

At a dream broken too early.

“I love you, Rowan.”

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #domestic fluff

[descendantofthesparrow]

Poly sea three x reader - oneshot - Lonely

*as i finished this i realized this has no dialogue...which is kinda cool i’ve never written a no dialogue fic, so enjoy!* ((y/n) is Jack Sparrows kid btw if you couldn't guess from the compass on the moodboard) 

=

After Uma left, her life was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. On nights where it had just been too much stress at the chip shop, she would retreat to one of three rooms, sometimes even gathering all of them to be in her room so she could just relax with her favorite people.

Her head rested on her first mate's chest, his solid heartbeat and even breathing lulling her to sleep, her body tangled with her war chief, arms wrapped around each other like snakes and thumb gently rubbing her back. Her legs coiled around her second mate, his hands pressed against her calf and thigh, always letting her know he was there.

Uma didn’t know how much she relied on them until she couldn't get back behind the barrier, eyes wide with helplessness as she called out for them on the other side, Harry when he would nab some fish from an unsuspecting fisherman, (y/n) when they sat on the docks, carving whatever they felt like into their dagger, Gil when he was skipping rocks.

They never heard her, and she didn’t try again as she watched them walk around on the deck of her ship.

She missed them, she realized that almost as soon as she hit the water outside the barrier, stopping for a moment to look back, watching as the barrier closed and she was separated from her friends.

Sometimes, she would see things that reminded her of them, the scarlet ribbon of a disregarded dress, a sparrow flying above her, a broken arrowhead at the bottom of the sea.

Uma just wanted to be with them again, her heart ached every night she went on without the sound of Harry's heart, the feeling of (y/n)s hands gently scratching at her back, the feeling of Gil's hands gently massaging her legs. She realized she loved them, all three of them, the longer she was away from them.

She missed them all, so much.

And she hoped that they missed her too.

-

After Uma left, the isle was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot of you at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. And she saw the inner workings of them behind closed doors, rusty cogs and scratched glass resting before her eyes.

Harry got more…twitchy, after Uma left, his usual controlled rage that used to bubble beneath his skin bursting out more often, scaring the crew sometimes, but never you and Gil. you both knew he’d never hurt either of you, he’d throw himself off the edge of the world before he even thought about doing so.

Harry was just so angry that Uma was gone, stuck on the other side of the barrier, he had no doubt she didn’t abandon any of you but that didn’t stop him from screaming and destroying the training dummies.

He shut himself away from everyone soon after the anger burned out, even Harriet hadn’t been able to convince him to unlock his door. It had taken almost a month for him to let you and Gil inside, and he looked awful, his skin was pale and his nose and cheeks were red, his eyes puffy and dull. The only reason he wasn’t skinny was thanks to you and Gil leaving trays full of food in front of his door at mealtimes, and leaving it there for him to grab it.

During those months of anger and depression, you and Gil took over the crew, you ascended into the role of captain, being the most knowledgeable about the position thanks to your lineage and Gil becoming first mate, all temporary until Harry recovered and Uma returned.

Though once Harry started to slowly return to his “normal” self, he didn’t care to try to take back his role as the first mate or become the captain as his first mate duties proclaimed, that alone told you and Gil and something was still wrong with Harry.

One night you and Gil dragged Harry into Uma’s empty quarters, and just laid in her bed in a tangle of limbs, Gil laying between Harry's legs with his head on Harry’s stomach, while Harry curled up into your chest, hands clutching onto your shirt. That night was one of the few times you saw Harry cry, choked sobs ripping from his throat as he attempted to muffle them in your neck.

You and Gil let your feelings out that night as well, assuring Harry that he wasn’t alone in missing Uma, you all did. So.damn.much.

Harry had always been in love with Uma, never afraid to show it, but that night you and Gil finally proclaimed the same after years of hiding your feelings in fear they would be used against you. And you loved each other too, it was hard to deny, not after revealing your feelings for Uma.

You all vowed that when Uma returned you would shower her in the love that you had all been deprived of for many years.

It was over a year later before you saw her again, Gil and Harry had jumped out of the barrier behind Mal and her goons plus Celia, Harry knocking the blue gem out of Mal's hand.

Your breath escaped you when a turquoise tentacle caught it, and Uma, looking more beautiful than you remembered, emerged from the water, dressed in an altered version of her turquoise cotillion dress, the sweetheart neckline showing off her glowing shell necklace.

Uma and your boys reunited, but she didn’t look at you, probably because you were back behind the tunnel and she couldn’t see you through the barrier and the darkness of the tunnel. But that was fine, you could wait just a bit longer before you looked her in the eyes again.

You would wait a thousand years for her.

But you wouldn’t have to wait that long, the next morning you awoke to the crew loudly celebrating, cheers and chaos echoing through the halls of the ship from the main deck.

You slipped out of bed, quickly changing into your gear and racing up to the main deck, unable to keep the smile of your lips as you saw Uma, who continued to glow with an echo of her magic, being lifted by the crew, all cheering and celebrating her return.

Her eyes locked onto yours, and as the crew set her down on her feet, you walked toward her, taking off your tri-corn hat and kneeling in front of her. You said her name like a prayer to the gods, a whisper on your lips. Uma shivered at the tone, feeling something wash over her at your worship.

As she looked around at the crew, Harry and Gil standing only a few inches from her, not wanting to be far from her, she realized that while Auradon had everything one could want, riches, good food, magic.

It was nothing compared to the warmth she felt surrounded by her crew and the three people she loved with all her soul.

Uma grabbed your face as you stood up, biting back a smile at your confused look, and pressed a kiss to your lips, the crew around them exploding into cheers.

Uma pulled back from you, smirking at your dazed look as she spun around and grabbed Harry's jacket, pulling him down to her height for a kiss, laughing into it as he slumped into her and groaned. She pulled away one last time and turned to Gil, grinning at his ‘excited puppy’ look, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as he picked her up by her waist to give her better access.

The crew celebrated and cheered, Bonnie handing Desiree a wad of cash when you and Harry kissed as Gil set Uma down and pulled the four of you into a hug, Uma pressing a kiss to his cheek as he did.

All was well again.

Uma wasn’t lonely anymore.

-end-

lowkey kinda proud of this one hehe, tell me what yall thought! this was originally going to be a under the sea kinda fic but it turned into them all missing Uma and Uma missing them and then they all reunited and kiss and just asaoishdahsda i couldn't help but do the fluff at the end 

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@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

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@musicarose​ @remembered-license​

@random-thoughts-003​  @imtryingthisout​

@rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ 

@verboetoperee​ @jatp-rules-my-life​

#disney descendants #harry hook x reader #sea three x reader #poly sea three #harry hook descendants #uma descendants #gil descendants #uma x reader #gil x reader #poly sea 3 x reader

[beefcakebarnes]

Bake the Cake

Summary: A sweet surprise for Bucky turns into a disaster only he can fix.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 945

Warnings: messes are made, fluff, a few tears, a little bit of panic, Bucky is definitely out of character in this so bear with me.

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve posted in almost 6 months and I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty proud of myself. For those of you that have asked if I’m going to update my series, there’s a large possibility that I may in the future. I’m just starting to dip my toes into this stuff again so it’s going to take a while but I still appreciate for patience. I’m a bit rusty but I hope you enjoy! I also couldn’t find an appropriate gif.

~

4 missed calls, 2 voicemails, and 5 unanswered texts. 

He hasn’t heard from you since the previous night and he’s worried. It’s not like you to not answer, and it’s definitely not like you at all to at least tell him you won’t be free that day. 

Of course, his mind goes to the worst possible scenario. Bucky would beat the hell out of himself if you got hurt - or worse - but he tries not to think about it. You’re probably fine and just having a day to yourself but he can’t help but check his phone every seven minutes with his anxiety nagging at him in the back of his head. But it’s almost four in the afternoon and you haven’t even looked at his messages. 

Finally, he loses the battle. He’s throwing on his jacket and locking his apartment door behind him before he can think twice about his decision. 

~

Your door is unlocked when he gets there, and he can feel his heart race through the flesh of his hand as he turns the knob. Bucky’s tried to remind you multiple times to lock it when you’re home alone after the creepy old guy next door got evicted but you forget almost everything so he’s not surprised. 

When the door clicks shut behind him, it’s quiet inside. Everything looks like it did when he was here the night before, except there’s no you. And then he smells it - multiple smells, something sweet and something...burnt? It’s something familiar, so familiar he can almost taste it. 

“Y/n?”

No response. 

He takes a few light steps into your living room and takes a peek through the doorway of your kitchen. Finally, he’s able to release a sigh of relief. Nothing’s broken, there’s no mess like he’d think he would find. It’s just you, sitting on the kitchen floor with your head in your hands….covered in flour. Everywhere.

Then he notices the real mess. It’s not just you; it’s the whole kitchen. Sticks beyond sticks of butter, flour, sugar, and a few dozen eggs litter every inch of countertop he can see - there’s some on the floor, too. And there’s enough both burnt and raw dessert in the trash to feed Steve and himself four times over.

“Y/n?” 

Bucky’s voice is more hesitant this time as his boots thump quietly on the tile of the kitchen. You mumble into your hands and his eyebrows furrow on his forehead. “Are you okay?”

There’s a sniffle, then you look up to him in his crouched position in front of you with puffy eyes. “I just wanted to do something special.”

“Special?” Yeah, he’s confused, but he goes along with it.

“You weren’t supposed to know or even be here. And was gonna bring it over to your place and we were gonna eat it together and-” 

Bucky’s heart breaks when he sees more tears spring to your eyes. More flour gets smudged onto your cheek when you attempt to stop the tears from falling. He knows when you’re truly upset about something; you get so infested, so passionate about something and when it doesn’t work out all hell breaks loose. 

He sighs through his nose and reaches to wipe his thumb across your cheek, taking some of the mess with it. “Well,” he starts, a sympathetic smile on his lips, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise. I just haven’t heard from you since yesterday and got worried, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffle, dropping your hands in your lap and looking around at your mess, disgusted with the aftermath of your first attempt at baking. 

With a huff, Bucky lowers himself to the floor beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “What were you trying to make, anyway?”

Suddenly, you’re sheepish. You duck your head and wipe your nose with the back of your hand, shrugging your shoulders in that cute way you do when you’re embarrassed. Bucky watches and waits for a moment with an amused smile as the gears turn in your head. With another sniffle, you tilt your head up to him. “It was supposed to be gooey butter cake…”

He pauses, his smile falters, and it clicks. Gooey butter cake...he used to make it with his Ma and little sister all the time before he was shipped off to war. The memory of a messy kitchen and laughter and smiles - it puts a bittersweet sting in the back of his throat. Bucky can’t help his grin, now.

“Do you want help?”

Are you offended? You look like it. “It was supposed to be a surprise, Bucky. You don’t make your own surprises.”

“Please?” he asks, a hopeful gleam in his eye. “I haven’t had gooey butter cake in decades.”

You debate his help for a moment. Do you try to redeem yourself by going for another attempt by yourself? It’ll probably end up being part of the mess that’s already in the garbage can if you do. With a sigh through your nose, you nod and sniffle one last time.

Bucky jumps to his feet with child-like excitement and pulls you up with him. But he pauses for a moment and eyes of the mess of the kitchen, the disaster that was an attempt at doing something for him. He turns back to you, his heart full, and places a featherlight, lingering kiss on your forehead. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles into your skin. And he means it.

With help, a sweet treat finally gets made. It’s not like Ma’s, but he’ll swear on his grave that it’s the best damn 21st-century gooey butter cake he’s ever had. 

~

Like it? Let me know!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes #beefcakebarnes

[oligbia]

Hi hii~

Could you do a truth or dare (or 7 minutes in heaven) Eijiro Kirishima short story (maybe nsfw if possible heh), please? 🥺

Keep up the great work!! 💕

Of course you can darling! Im super excited to get any and all requests and im really excited to do this one! Thank you so much for your support, it means the absolute world to me. I haven't written a lot of smut with guys recently, ive been on more of a wlw thing, so im a little rusty hehe. . .

I honestly didn't do a lot of editing on this once it was done, I had it going like "all the way" then realized Kiri wouldn't do that on the first day- anyways it'll make sense. If you want more Kiri stuff I can totally give you more, just let me know :)

7 Minutes In Heaven

Pro Hero!Eijiro KirishimaXReader

NSFW, Minors do not interact

Warnings: Sexual behavior, giving and receiving oral, making out in a closet, mild swearing

A hero gala was an event like none other.  It was a night were all Japan's hero's and their dotting staff would all assemble to accept awards and receive rankings. It was a night for citizens to see their favorite hero's dressed to the nines and hash out who was truly the best hero on social media.

And, for starter hero's, it's was night to get shit faced, since the likelyhood of them reciving any award was slim anyways.

Pro heroes Red Riot, Pinky, Cellophane, and Chargebolt where no exception to this. They were all still pretty low in the ranks of heroes, especially considering they were all fresh out of UA only a few years ago. The only two UA graduates to jump into the hero world right were no surprise Deku and Dynamite. Deku practically left UA the top hero, entering in at the 5th rank overall. Dynamite took a little work, he still wasn't a fan favorite, but his work was undeniable, he was easily starting in at rank 10.

The formerly-known bakusquad sat comfortably at the back of the gala room, all a little tipsy. They watched as Bakugou was being practically held on a child leash by Best Jeanist, forced to be on best behavior.

Denki watched the room quickly, his shifting glances moving quickly. His eyes landed on your figure somewhere across the way.

"Oh my god, is that Y/N? We haven't seen her since UA!" His voice wasn't at all hushed, people around the table glancing at him with slight disgust.

"Woah, that totally is!" Sero joined in on the ogling. "She's like, totally hot now!"

Kirishima looked your way, practically chocking on his champagne. He let out a few strangled coughs when his eyes landed on your form. The dress you were wearing was long and elegant, showing off your curves and hugging your waist. He was able to see your toned arms and watch as they elegantly moved as you spoke.

Mina poked Kiri's now flushed cheek. "You always had quite the hots for Y/N in UA, huh? And she wasn't even in our class."

Kirishima rolled his eyes. "I didn't 'have the hots for her.' I just thought she was...manly."

Denki and Sero puckered their faces, making kissing sounds, their drunken state throwing them back to a bunch of 14 year olds, rather than the 24 year olds they were now.

Kirishima waved them off, shaking his head. Mina abruptly stood up, waving you over. It was no time before you turned around, your gaze meeting her as you flashed your smile at her.

Kirishima swatted at Mina, trying to pull her back into her seat. "Mina, sit down, you're embarrassing us."

"Oh please, those two are embarrassing. I'm helping."

Kirishima watched as you moved your way to his table smiling softly. "It's great to see you all. I haven't seen you guys since we graduated."

Kirishima wanted to say something, but his tongue was sadly caught in his own mouth.

"Crazy, I know! I see you're doing well as a support gear engineer, that's exciting!" Mina made easy small talk, her foot kicking Kirishima's calf under the table. "You know, Kirishima here has been needing some new support gear!"

You smiled at Kiri, your own face going a little red. He was much older now. His jawline was more defined, his build larger. You couldn't tell from his suit how much stronger he was, but you could tell he was clearly built and taller. His hair had grown out a bit, it neatly tied back into a manbun.

"Oh? Does Fatgum not have someone who can make it for you?"

Kirishima smiled, laughing awkwardly. "He does, or, we do. They just, aren't as good at you."

"You haven't seen my work since UA, it's not l that improved. I still have a lot to learn before I'm good…"

Kirishima shook his head. "Don't say that, you were always super smart and made us amazing gear!" Kirishima blushed at his sudden enthusiasm.

Mina stood up, offering you her seat. "Y/N, would you mind staying here with Kiri for a moment, I think Denki and Sero needed to excuse themselves but are a little, ya'know." Mina made a drinking motion with her hand, elbowing Sero and Denki to follow her lead. The two had been snickering the entire time while simultaneously drooling over you.  

The trio walked off, leaving you alone with Kirishima. Kirishima chuckled softly, lost for words again.

"So, how's the side-kick life?"

Kirishima looked up at you. "It's alright. Fatgum is an amazing hero. He's super manly! And working for him is great too! Especially when he feeds me during patrols!"

You smiled at him, that smile that drives him crazy. "Well, you're definitely in the favor of girls everywhere. Your girlfriend is probably thrilled to have such a stong-"

"I don't have a girlfriend!" Kirishima practically leaped from his seat to assure you that he was indeed single. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain some composure. "I don't have a girlfriend. I am, completely single."

"Oh. I just figured someone as amazing and pretty as yourself would have a girlfriend." You looked down at your fingers, fidgeting with them as a soft blush spread across your face.

"You think I’m pretty?" Kirishima looks over at you, flashing you a small, toothy, grin.

"Is that weird?"

"Not at all! I think it's manly!"

You both laughed awkwardly. You both sit in silence for a moment, an incredibly awkward silence.

Kirishima spoke up first. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You shook your head no. Kirishima nodded. Muttering a “cool, cool” under his breath.

Shortly thereafter, much to Kirishima’s relief, Mina returned with Denki and Sero. She smiled at you, her gaze warm. “These two are a bit over the edge and about to make a fool of themselves. I think we should go to Kirishima’s place and continue this party there, yea?”

Kirishima groaned. “Why my place? You have your own house, Mina.”

“I know, but yours is so much bigger and it’s closer to the venue.” She winked at Kirishima and glanced at youquickly, dropping hints. Kirishima, a little confused, gave up any sort of bickering he had.

“Fine.” He scratched the back of his neck, smiling at you. “Did you want to come, Y/N?”

You nodded, thanking him for the invitation. Mina threw her hands up excitedly, grabbing Denki and Sero, pulling them out behind her. Kirishima stood up, offering you his arm. You rested your hands on it, allowing him to lead you out of the venue.

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

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Denki called out, laying sprawled out on Kirishima’s living room floor. Sero was laying near him, half asleep. Mina was cast over a chair, her legs dangling over one of the armrests. You were seated comfortably on Kirishima’s couch, wearing a pair of his sweats and hoodies. He had offered you the change of clothes when you came over with the group, wanting to keep you comfortable. To him, seeing you in his clothes was some fantasy of his. The way his clothes hung off your smaller body was adorable and was doing something to him he wasn’t sure he could explain.  

Sero shoots Denki a look. “Isn’t that game for middle schoolers? People our age play, I don’t know, checkers?”

Mina perked up at the mention of the game. She was, of course, the matchmaker of the night, determined to land Kiri a girlfriend out of the girl he spent his entire high school experience crushing on, or, at least, give him a solid one-night stand if you both were willing. “Don’t be such a drag, Sero! It can be fun. We’re 24, not 64.”

Mina spun herself around in the chair, sitting cross legged and facing the group. She looked over at you and Kiri, who was sitting a considerable distance from each other on the couch. “What about it, you two. Are you both down?”

Kirishima shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of Mina and her antics.

“Why not?”

Kirishima’s face shot to face yours, his eyes wide in surprise. “I’m in too, I guess.”

Mina clapped her hands together. “Okie dokie, zappy, you get us started.”

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

After being a few hours into the game, Denki was officially dumbed out and Sero was asleep on the couch. Mina giggled, looking over at you. “Okay okay Y/N, truth or dare?”

You hummed, thinking. “Truth.”

Mina groaned. “C’mon, pick dare for once!”

You shook your head. “Please, last time I did, you had me eat a spoonful of that random shit Kirishima had in his fridge.”

Kirishima chuckled, “I swear to you, it’s Bakugou’s.”

Mina sighed. “Fine. Back in your UA days, was there ever someone you had a crush on?”

Your face grew red as a blush laid across your cheeks. “What?”

Mina teased you, “A crush! You got to build hero gear for all those classmates and see them in their trained glory. . .you had to have liked someone.”

“I mean, there was someone. But it’s long done, they wouldn’t have liked me anyway and we’re grown up now.”

Mina pouted. “C’mon, Y/N, that isn’t true. You’re so pretty, any guy would have liked you! Who was it?”

You inhaled a deep breath, looking at the ground, Kirishima and Mina’s eyes both peering daggers into you.

Denki, finally coming back to reality, slurred his words together. “It was definitely me, wasn’t it?”

You shook your head. “In your dreams.”

Denki pouted, but Kirishima let out a breath of relief. His chances of knowing you maybe had liked him back at one point was the right amount of reassurance he needed.

You looked at Mina. “If I tell you, you have to swear to me you’ll keep quiet.”

Mina motioned a zipper over her lips. “Sister’s honor.”

You lean over your end of the couch, pressing your face against Mina's ear. You cup your hands, whispering into her ear the name she was waiting for.

And like gears working in clockwork, Mina was working on the ultimate plan to get the two of you alone.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Kirishima, truth or dare?”

“Dare. Hit me with the best you got.” It was well into the early hours of the morning now, the hero gala long over. You still were at Kirishima’s house, playing truth or dare. You were sitting closer to Kirishima now, sharing a blanket over the two of you, legs brushing softly. His hand was constantly inches from yours, the idea of holding it constantly toying in the back of his mind.

“7 Minutes in Heaven with Y/N.”

Both of your jaws practically hit the floor, a deep crimson spreading over both of your cheeks. You looked away from Kirishima, trying to hide your fluster. He placed a gentle hand on your knee, speaking to you softly. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can take you home right now if you want.”

Thoughts spread through your mind, deciding what to do. You liked Kirishima, you had for years now. You did at UA when you worked to design his hero gear, and your affections never wore off, watching him do his job as a hero sidekick only fueling the admiration you had for him.

“I’m okay with it.”

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

The closet in Kirishima’s room smelled like fresh laundry, his calonge, and teen-turned-young-adult pheromones. It was dark, you were hardly able to make out the tall and well-built man in front of you, his muscles and long mane outlined softly. He went to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, accidentally bumping your smaller form. He rushed out a frantic apology, the blush growing on both of your faces.

“Hey, Y/N, who was it you liked at UA?”

You looked away from him, trying to hide your face. You mumbled softly to yourself some answer he wasn’t able to hear.

“What was that?”

You remained quiet, not budging. Kirishima gulped, swallowing the massive lump of pride that was making his mouth dry. “I guess a closet during a game of truth or dare is a pretty good time to tell you,” Kirishima fumbled over his words a little, grabbing for your free hand. “I always sort of liked you. I mean, I liked you when we were kids at UA. But then we graduated, but, I guess I never really stopped. I’m not sure how manly that is-”

“I like you too.”

“...but you probably like heroes like Midoriya or Bakugou- wait what?” Kirishima stopped his rambling, trying to find your eyes in the dark. He locked onto the faint glimmer of your eyes in the dark. He was always one to think that being manly meant taking a risk from time to time, and he was everything that was manly.

Kirishima pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips to yours. The hand that wasn’t holding yours wandered to cup your face, holding it close to him. You gasped into the kiss, his sudden embrace taking you for a surprise. His lips were surprisingly soft, tasting faintly of cherries and champagne. The kiss was initially gentle, but, feeling your body press flesh against his, Kirishima dipped your head, deepening the kiss.

The hand that was grabbing yours found its way to your waist, tugging you closer to him. You sighed into the kiss, Kirishima’s breath warm against your skin. His tongue gently brushed across your bottom lip, his teeth accidentally grazing yours in his rushed attempt to draw you both even closer.

You pulled away first, looking up at Kirishima with half-lidded eyes, painting slightly. You licked your lips, taking in the remaining taste of his cherry taste. Kirishima let out a husky and shaky breath, still holding your waist. He blinked a few times, realization hitting him over what he had done.

"Oh my God, Y/N, I am so sorry, it isn't manly to not ask for consent first and-"

"Kirishima, it's okay. I agreed to come into this closet with you like we were kids or something."

Kirishima pulled you against him again, hovering his face against your ear. His voice was soft, growing husky with his hushed volume.

"Then, can I kiss you again?"

You nodded softly, anticipation growing.

"Perfect." Kirishima grabbed your face, smashing his lips into yours. Your hands traveled to hang off his neck, gently toying with his long locks. Kirishima gently moved his hand from your waist, letting it rest on your lower back as he pulled you even closer to him. His tongue licked your bottom lip, gently pulling it with his bottom lip. You mewled softly into the kiss, letting his tongue meet yours as it lapped up your mouth.

Needing air, Kirishima pulled off from your kiss, going to press kisses along your jawline and neck. He pressed fast and quick butterfly kisses to your neck, your hands tugging at his hair. He grunted, frustrated with the restraints of his hoodie you were wearing. You gently pushed him off, pulling his hoodie over your head, landing somewhere amongst his closet. Kirishima smiled at your now exposed top, your breasts filling out the bra you were wearing.

"You are absolutely stunning." He caressed your cheek with his thumb. "Can we keep going?"

You nodded, and Kirishima took no time going back to kissing your neck, this time leaving sloppy open kisses, his tongue leaving wet and sloppy marks along your skin. His teeth grazed at your skin ever so slightly, sending shivers up your spine. His teeth grazed over your sensitive spot as you moaned out involuntarily. Your hand quickly shot up to cover your mouth, aware of the fact that people were sitting in Kirishima's living room, possibly hearing you.

Kirishima pulled away, looking at you confused. He gently moved your hand from your mouth. "Why would you want to be quiet? You sounded so pretty?"

Kirishima, without hesitation, nipped at the sensitive part of your neck, desperate to hear you moan again. He kept nipping at your neck, sucking at the skin softly to sooth it. Your little mewls and moans nagging him on and on.

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

Kaminari looked up from his watch. "Mina it's been forever, go let them out."

Mina, pressed against the door, giggled as she returned back to Kaminari and Sero, who was now awake again.

"No way! Those two are totally going at it. I successfully am the new cupid boys!"

Sero groaned. "Are we going to stay here all night then? I don't want to hear that all night."

Mina shook her head. "No, we'll leave then be."

The trio showed themselves out, but not before Mina could slip a couple pain killers and condoms into your belongings on the way out.

******

Kirishima's hands dipped to your ass, lifting you up. He held you one handed, his strong arms and large hands being bigger than your small form. You pressed lazy kisses to his neck as he fumbled for the doorknob behind him, trying to open the door to his bedroom.  

After you had kissed up and down his jaw and neck, leaving smears of lipstick from the hero gala, Kirishima was able to get the door open. He threw you gently onto the bed, crawling on top of you. If you hadn’t already realized how massive this man’s form was now, you definitely made the connection when he was looming over you. His chest heaved heavily, the muscles in his arms and under his shirt contracting and rippling. His hair was long, falling into his face.

“Kirishima, what if they’re still here…”

Through heavy breaths, he kissed on your neck again, using the same butterfly kisses as before. “Don’t care.”

You hummed at the pleasant feeling of his soft kisses on your skin and the light tickling of his hair grazing your cheeks. “We should check though… they may be worried.”

Kirishima pulled his head back, looking behind him at the door. “Mina?” He yelled out, waiting for a response. “Nothing. It’s just us baby. Are you okay with that?”

You nodded, giving him permission to keep going. His hands traveled up your waist and sides, landing next to your breasts. His locked his lips to yours, his tongue wasting no time dipping into your mouth. Kirishima moved his hands to gently cup your chest over your bra, squeezing softly. A small moan escaped through your mouth, your breasts becoming sensitive under his touch. Your hands traced over his chest and arms, fingertips taking their time to feel each of his muscles. They found themselves in his hair again, pulling at it gently as you raked your hands through it. A shallow moan left Kirishima's lips as he pulled away from you, gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away. He looked at you with lidded eyes, a hunger glistening over his face. He looked at you with that same charming smile he always had, pulling his shirt over his chest. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. He had definitely grown since he was in high school all those years ago. He was built like a greek god, his pecks large and his muscles toned. Your fingertips gently felt up his chest and abdomen, shivers traveling up Kirishima’s spine.

“You’re beautiful, Eijiro.”

“Eijiro? We’re that close already?”

You giggled. “I mean, by the way you grabbed my chest, I would think so.”

Kirishima shook his head, lowering his body back down to yours. He kept himself propped up on his arms, leaving soft kisses along your face and jaw before hovering over your ear. “Well, I would love to do more if you let me.” His teeth nipped at the bottom of your ear.

“Please.”

Kirishima’s hands fumbled with the back of your bra, unhooking it and pulling it off you. His hands held your tender breasts. He placed gentle kisses along your chest, fingers toying softly with your nipples. His thumbs brushed over the sensitive buds, pulling them ever so gently. Soft moans sounded from you, only pushing Kirishima further with his teasing.

He looked at you with a wink and a smirk, before placing a gentle kiss over one of your breasts, sucking on it gently. His tongue worked circles around your nipple, your body squirming slightly under his touch. He tugged at it gently with his teeth, pulling away and giving the other breast the same attention. Your hands pulled at his hair, a grunt sounding out over your breast when you found a sensitive spot on his head.

He pulled up, admiring your form under him. Your face was pink with blush, your hair falling in a mess over his face, your lipstick smudged around your lips. Small bruises were adorning your neck and chest, breasts slick with his spit.

“You are absolutely perfect, sweetheart. The best thing I have ever seen.”

Eijiro moved his hands around the sweatpants you had borrowed, pulling them off your legs. His hands grazed the side of your leg, following up from your ankle to you hips. “So, so beautiful.”

He placed gentle kisses along your inner thighs, gently massaging them with his hands. His face was ever so close to your clothed folds, the teasing leaving you a mess. Kirishima took you by surprise, biting down on your thighs. Your moan was louder than any had been so far, the pain being laced with pleasure. You would definitely be able to see his bite marks and a bruise in the morning.

“You like that, huh? You like when I mark you up, make you all mine?”

You nodded, eyes closing as Kirishima bit down on your other thigh as you moaned out in pleasure. He placed gentle kisses over the new bitemark, lapping at it gently with his tongue.

His fingers hooked over the band of your underwear. “Is it okay if I keep going, sweetheart? Only if you want me to.”

You nodded your head, trying to rub your thighs together to get any sort of friction to aid your growing needs.

“Let me hear you, baby. Can I keep going?”

“God, yes Eijiro, please keep going.”

Kirishima smiled and pulled off your underwear, throwing it aside somewhere. His thumb gently felt along your folds, grazing across your clit. “God, every inch of you is absolute perfection. You're so pretty, baby.

You mewled at his touch, your folds already wet in anticipation. Kirishima dragged his tongue across your folds, lapping gently, teasing you. He was practically purring against you, losing his mind. He had never, ever, thought the girl he liked the most would be so completely unraveled under him. He sucked against your clit, moans and strings of babbled phrases leaving your mouth.

“Stop teasing me, Eijiro. Please, give me more.”

He pulled away, blowing softly against you, the cold air sending you squirming again. “So greedy, sweetheart. I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

He rolled your clit with the pad of his thumb, moving it in soft circles. Your waist bucked forward under his touch, a growing tension in your stomach. Kirishima gently placed two fingers in you, pumping them out gently. You moaned, the stretch of his large fingers was absolutely unraveling. He pumped them in and out slowly, wanting you to get adjusted the best you could. He watched as you clenched around his digits. His thrusts turned to a scissoring motion as he added a third finger. The new stretch was absolutely mind numbing. He pumped the three fingers in and out of you, barely grazing the spot that needed him most. You bucked forward to him, trying to lower yourself further onto your fingers. Kirishima watched with intention, thrusting his fingers in deeper and faster. He hit the spot you needed, the moan leaving your lips was sinful and the best thing he had ever heard.

“Right there, Eijiro. Please, right there.”

“Is that good, baby? Do you feel good?” Kirishima’s voice was low, a practical growl. You mewled, legs shaking.

“I, I think I’m close.”

"That's okay, you can come when you're ready. I want you to feel good."

Kirishima thrusted his fingers in and out of you, curling them against your g-spot. You felt a knot grow in your stomach, snapping as Kirishima rubbed against your clit. Your body shook as you came, moaning his name.

Kirishima pulled his fingers out gently, locking eyes with you as he licked your juices off his fingers, sucking them slowly and licking them clean. He licked a clean stripe against your folds, sucking any remaining juices from you. You mewled and moaned, sensitive to his touch.

"You taste so good, so perfect, Y/N." Kirishima's face was covered in your slick and sweat, your lipstick still smeared on his neck. His hair was a mess, tangled from where your hands had been tugging at it.

You sat up a little, "Can I take care of that?" You glanced down at the tent that was straining against his pants.

"Only if you want." Kirishima pulled you closer to him, sitting you on his lap at the end of the bed, moving you around with ease. His head rested against your ear, voice low. "I want you to feel good, sweetheart."

You pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, sliding off his lap and sitting on your knees on the ground. You felt the fabriced bulge, watching as Kirishima shivered, eyes never leaving you. You slowly undid his belt, pulling his pants off him, letting them rest at his feet. His erection sprang through his boxers, precum peaking through. You licked a strip over, the fabric growing damp under your touch. Kirishima's grip tightened on the sheets of the bed. You palmed the length, trying to rub it, but it was honestly much to large for one hand to manage. Your mind was putty imagining how much he was packing.

You hooked the band of his boxers around your fingers, pulling them off his legs. Your eyes widened, gawking at the sight of him. He was, large, to say the least. You honestly weren't sure if you could manage him.

"Like what you see, baby?" Kirishima smirked down at you, eyebrows raised.

You nodded, rubbing a circle around his tip with your thumb. Kirishima let out a shaky breath, his composer slowly breaking.

You tried to stroke him up and down, your hand unable to fully wrap around his shaft. You pumped up and down gently, picking up speed slowly. Kirishima threw his head back, mumbling your name under his breath.

You took him into your mouth slowly, tounge swirling around his tip.

"Fuck, Y/N" Kirishima's voice was breathy and full of need.

You bobbed your head up and down his length slowly, trying to take in as much as you could. When you hollowed out your cheeks, taking in enough of him that you hit the back of your throat, Kiri let out one of the most sinful moans you had heard. He was one of the last people you would expect to be so vocal, but if you said it wasn't the hottest thing you've heard, you would be lying.

Kirishima grabbed onto a bunch of your hair, his hand massive against your hair. He pulled you gently up and down his length, guiding you through what felt good.

"Just like that, baby. Good girl."  

You grew faster, stroking the lengths you couldn't reach with your mouth. You felt him twitch in your mouth, his grip on on your head tighter.

"I'm so close, Y/N. Fuck, you're so good. Take me like the pretty girl you are."

You stroked him faster, licking against him as he moved in and out of your face. You watched his face contort as he came in your mouth. You liked your lips, swallowing his load the best you could. You coughed a little, not anticipating so much. Kirishima panted, relieved. His eyes widened, realizing what happened. He looked at you, leftovers come sitting on your face.

"Oh my God, i'm so sorry. Hold on-"

Kirishima pulled a towel out of the closet, cleaning your face off.

"You don't have to apologize. I just hope I did okay?"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your hairline. "You were perfect. Thank you."

He helped you stand, holding your waist. "If it isn't too much too soon, we can shower and you can maybe sleep over?"

"I would like that, Eijiro."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima x reader smut

[evanescentjasmine]

Writing Egypt and Egyptian Characters: Rusty Quill Gaming Edition

I’ve finally caught up with the Cairo arc of Rusty Quill Gaming, which I was anticipating and dreading both. Fiction set in my country usually reduces it to a caricature of itself, especially when it takes place in the Victorian era, but considering everything they’ve said in their metacasts I was hoping Rusty Quill Gaming was the exception.

It wasn’t. 

I’m aware the game world plays fast and loose with history and setting, but the problems in this case are more than just inaccuracies. However, because I want to help fic writers and artists be able to portray Hamid and his family well, this resource will be split into two parts. The first part will tackle details I’ve been asked about with regard to the setting; it may touch on things RQG went wrong, but I’m writing it primarily as a resource for artists and writers. The second part will be my criticism of RQG, and why I found the Cairo arc actively harmful. This includes discussions of Orientalism and some racist text.

I should also preface this by saying I’m not a historian. Everything I say in this resource is a combination of what I grew up with and what I remember from school, supplemented by Google and guesswork. I’ll be explaining my thought process throughout, which can help you see what’s actual history and what’s my extrapolation.

Part One: On Egypt

Historical Context:

Figuring out the history of Egypt in RQG terms is a bit complicated, so bear with me because this will take a while. 

In real-world history, Egypt was a Roman then Byzantine province from 30 BC to around the mid 600s AD, at which point the Arab conquest swept through and Egypt became Muslim. 

What this means is that when the Meritocrats took down Rome and took over the world, Egypt was still a Roman province. That gives us a several hundred year gap before the Arabs that may have maintained the same culture? Or morphed a little back to some pre-Ptolemaic Ancient Egyptian, given their Meritocrat, Apophis, is named after a great Pharaonic serpent?

Either way, given Hamid’s name and the fact they live in Cairo, the city built by the Arabs, we can assume the Arab conquest still happened somehow, despite having a Meritocrat in Egypt. Maybe a Meritocrat out there is Arab and settled in Egypt for a bit with or before Apophis? Maybe it took a couple-hundred years for the Meritocrats to get all the previous Roman areas under control? Maybe there was a whole war and the Arabs won and settled and eventually they got to a truce or got absorbed into Meritocratic lands?

Many Muslim dynasties ruled throughout the period from the mid 600s to the 1500s. Given the lack of Islam in this world, probably the Arabs were unified by some Pre-Islamic deity/deities and brought them over as well, because I refuse to just sweep everything under the broad Greek God rug. 

In the 1500s, another Muslim dynasty took over--this time, from outside of the country, which is why it’s considered separate from all the rest. At this point, Egypt became part of the Ottoman Empire until the 1800s, which is when the Mohammed Ali dynasty started to try and secede and rule independently. And there was a brief blip of the French occupation for two years around then as well.

And, of course, we can’t forget about British colonisation, which started in the late 1800s with a veiled protectorate.

Presumably, since France and Britain are also Meritocratic and it seems like Apophis is currently ruling, we can disregard everything from the Ottomans onward. This changes, or should change, a ton, because Ottoman rule informed a lot of things from fashion to slang to nobility and so on. 

What we’re left with is most likely a Cairo that is still Arab but with much more Pharaonic influence, as Apophis is in charge, as well as continuing Greek influence due to the Gods. I am not a Coptic Christian, so I cannot speak to how these changes in history and religions would affect the Coptic language and culture, but no doubt it would still be around.

There would also be a bigger, more long-standing connection to other Meritocratic countries. This explains why Hamid was British-educated and so many people speak such good English without a British occupation to create the power disparity that would make that necessary to rise in Egypt and such a mark of status. 

However, this presents several confusing and contradictory aspects of the world building:

Why doesn’t this go both ways? Why aren’t there people in England and France who know Arabic or are influenced by Egypt? All we get is that the Tahan family are big. That’s it. If these countries are equals, it sure doesn’t look like it.

If Apophis is pharaonic and Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous...why would they hollow out a pyramid to put a bank inside? It’s a tomb. It’s made to bury dead kings in a way that follows possibly still-existing cultural and religious beliefs. It’s the equivalent of someone building a bank inside a mausoleum. It’s bizarre.

Relatedly, if Ancient Egyptian culture and knowledge are so ubiquitous, why is Carter mentioning the Rosetta Stone? Why would the knowledge necessary to translate hieroglyphics have been lost? 

I mention these questions so fic writers can keep them in mind while writing and, of course, it’s entirely possible to create a workaround. For example, maybe the Rosetta Stone is supposed to be translating something else, like an ancient hidden magic?

Describing Cairo:

I want to make one thing very clear: Cairo is not, despite Alex’s description, like Vegas. While we do certainly have hotels and casinos, to reduce the city to only that is very harmful for reasons I’ll go into at the end of this resource.

Cairo is a very old city with a mix of architectural styles and is very heavily Muslim in real life. In Arabic, its tagline is often “city of a thousand minarets,” so clearly RQG Cairo will be fairly different. Given Apophis’ influence, Ancient Egyptian styles might be more prevalent in Cairo, but very likely not in the form of pyramids unless those pyramids were for the dead. In real life, some buildings do incorporate Ancient Egyptian flavour, usually just in the form of lotus columns or hieroglyphs. These would only be found in public institutions, however,  or, frankly, tourist-bait. 

Residential buildings tend to be clustered very close together and, since it’s an old city, streets are crowded and winding as the city keeps building on itself and spilling out of its previous bounds. Estates do, of course, exist, but I’d suggest against using Bryn’s example of Alhambra as a setting for the Tahan home. Alhambra is a palace fortress in Spain and, although it’s Andalusian and therefore influenced by Muslim architecture, it’s very different than anything in Egypt. It’s as absurd as saying a posh British character lives in a house that’s basically Versailles and leaving it there. I’ve included images of some Egyptian residential estates below, all from the 1800s to early 1900s.

And here are some photos of Cairo in the 1800s:

As you can see, not quite Vegas.

A fic set in Cairo can certainly still have the Cairo strip with all the casinos, since that’s an aspect of canon, but a place like that would probably be geared more to tourists and foreigners than locals. So long you’re aware of this while writing, and that Cairo would exist beyond it, you should be fine. It might also be worth having characters explore the actual city.

Weather:

The stereotype is that Egypt is just hot and sand year-round. It isn’t. The further south you go, the hotter it will get, so that Upper Egypt (which is in the south, yeah), is hotter than Lower Egypt, which is where Cairo and Alexandria are. Alexandria, by virtue of being on the Mediterranean, has fairly cold (for us) and rainy winters and mild, humid summers. Cairo gets very occasional rain and has harsher summers but is also dryer.

And, of course, a thing to remember is that even in the depths of the desert, the morning might be quite warm but the night will be quite cold as well.

Sandstorm season (called khamaseen) takes place from April - May but in the middle of Cairo it’s more of an annoyance than anything else.

Language:

Since they speak Arabic, it’s important to note that spoken Egyptian Arabic is very different from written Classical Arabic. Egyptian is a mishmash of Arabic, Coptic, a bit of Greek, and a bit of French (and, in the real world, some Turkish too) all smashed together. Accents differ from city to city, and Cairene Arabic is best known for the fact we pronounce the letter jeem as geem (so all soft Gs are turned into hard Gs) and tend to replace the letter qaf with a glottal stop.

This means that a Cairene wouldn’t be called Jamal, they’d be Gamal. A Cairene would pronounce burqa as bur’a.

Since religion plays a big part in language, RQG Egyptian Arabic may be a bit different. For instance, the greeting most people associate with Arabic is “Assalam alaykum” but that’s very specifically Muslim or at least associated with Islam, and might not have been as wide-spread given...y’know, that Islam doesn’t exist. I’m not saying it’s incorrect to use, just explaining the context.

Alternatives could include “Sabah/masa’ el-kheir” which means “Good morning/evening,” and “Naharak/Naharik saeed” which is, “May you have a good day.”

Fashion:

Although this didn’t really feature in RQG, I’ve received a lot of questions about the period’s fashion and honestly it’s my favourite thing ever so I probably would have touched on it anyway. I’ll only go into broad strokes, as there are plenty of regional variations and, again, I’m no expert 

Women

Egyptian women covered their heads and sometimes their faces not out of religiosity but out of a cultural expectation of modesty. This may well have come about as a result of the Arab/Muslim cultural majority, as to my knowledge this wasn’t the case in the Greek and Roman periods, but women of all religions covered their heads so that would likely still be the case in RQG’s Arab Egypt.

This isn’t with the hijab we know today. It may have been a cloth or kerchief tied over their heads and then the melaya laf (which is larger cloth, almost a sheet) that they wrap around themselves and over their head, as follows: 

The black face-covering was called a burqa or bur’a (not the same as a Muslim burqa, which serves similar modesty functions but is a separate thing) or a yashmak and may have been opaque black, white, or netted, such as in this picture:

Underneath the melaya they would be wearing a long, loose, patterned dress:

Upper class Egyptian women tended to wear Western dresses with a white yashmak that covered their faces and heads. A yashmak is Turkish, however, and without Ottoman influence this style and name might not have caught on in Egypt.

Men

While the melaya laf and yashmak have disappeared from Egypt, the traditional men’s gallabeya and ammama, or turban, are still seen widely today. The gallabeya (or jellabiya, outside of Cairene Arabic) is a long, loose garment with wide sleeves and no collar. It’s in muted, neutral colours, usually lighter ones like white or beige in the summer and navy blue or grey in the winter. You’ll have seen examples of it in the pictures of Cairo above, and here’s another one: 

Middle to upper class men and civil servants, however, tended to wear English suits with a tarboosh, or fez. Since fezzes were also a result of Ottoman rule, RQG Egyptians might not wear them.

And yes, impressive moustaches were also very much the fashion.

Names:

The running joke is that Hamid’s name is unnecessarily long, but my name is longer, and I don’t think that’s particularly unusual. We don’t usually go around introducing ourselves with all of them, admittedly, and I’m not sure whether Hamid does this as a way to indicate he’s overly fancy or because Bryn doesn’t realise it, but four names is not long. My ID boasts five, and I know of at least one more.

Arabic naming conventions use patronymics for all children, regardless of gender. What this means is that my name and my brother’s name is identical except for our first. 

Mine is Jasmine + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name

And my brother is also First name + Dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name + his dad’s name.

Egyptians do not typically have last names, but an important family may all choose to identify under a name and use that as their last, such as the Tahans. In my case, I use my fifth name as my last name and introduce myself in everyday life as Jasmine Fifth Name. Notably, my brother does not, and goes by First name + Dad’s name instead. This isn’t unusual. On paperwork, however, we still have the same name.

Additionally, Egyptian women do not take their husbands’ last names in marriage, nor do children take any of her names. 

I’m not sure why, according to the wiki, Hamid’s sisters seem to have taken their mother’s name. Following Arabic naming conventions, they would all be First Name Saleh Haroun al Tahan, and their father would be Saleh Haroun al Tahan. A possible workaround might be that halflings have their own naming conventions that mean daughters have matronymics and sons patronymics. 

A note to podficcers: please google name pronunciations beforehand because Alex and Bryn’s are actually often wrong. Ishak, for instance, is not pronounced Ee-shak. It’s Iss-haaq or Iss-haa’, because of quirks of the Egyptian accent I mentioned earlier.

Part Two: Criticism

I understand it can be difficult to portray a country different from yours with accuracy. I understand the RQG crew will not have had the perspective on Egypt and Cairo that I do by virtue of living here. I do also acknowledge that I’m sure none of this was actively malicious or on purpose.

But it doesn’t have to be on purpose to hurt, frankly, and given how often the RQG crew have talked about their responsibility with a game that’s intended for an audience, I expected better. Bryn has spoken about not wanting to fall into stereotypes for Hamid and, to be fair, by being a non-religious fancyboy Hamid does neatly avoid the religious zealot and the noble (or ignoble) savage routes. Unfortunately, he falls into another, which was hammered home by the portrayal of Cairo and the Tahans as a whole.

Our first glimpse of Cairo, after the sandstorm clears, describes it as “basically Vegas,” with hotels and garish casinos catering to the rich all along the “Cairo strip.” From then on, our only other images of Cairo are vast estates and a pyramid in the desert. 

The only named Egyptians we meet are the Tahan family, who are introduced through an absurdly lavish estate compared to the palace fortress of Alhambra, a gambling problem that apparently runs in the family, murder, and corruption, as the head of the family who has already covered up a crime for one son then turns himself in to protect the other.

Then, to top it all off, Hamid is apparently utterly incapable of understanding why letting his brother get away with murder is an issue until the paladins point it out.

Do you see the pattern, here?

I understand this was aiming to be a criticism of the rich and powerful, but the fact remains that the Tahans are the only representation of Egyptians we get. While this may not be harems and hand-chopping levels of Orientalism, the image presented is of Cairo as a den of excessive wealth and vice, and Egyptians as corrupt and immoral.

This isn’t new.

The Middle East and North Africa (as well as India and China and everywhere else considered “the Orient”) has often been tied to images of wealth and overt splendour, usually hand-in-hand with the Oriental despot and corruption. This view went beyond just fiction and influenced the policies with which we were ruled. 

Cromer, Consul-General of Egypt, wrote books called Modern Egypt. He had this to say about us:

“The mind of the Oriental, on the other hand, like his picturesque streets, is eminently wanting in symmetry. His reasoning is of the most slipshod description. . . . They are often incapable of drawing the most obvious conclusions from any simple premises of which they may admit the truth.”

In his opinion, our inability to follow logical reason led to us being inherently untruthful and, therefore, immoral. Similarly, British statesman Balfour was of the belief that:

 “Lord Cromer’s services during the past quarter of a century have raised Egypt from the lowest pitch of social and economic degradation until it now stands among Oriental nations, I believe, absolutely alone in its prosperity, financial and moral.”

Egypt was under British colonial rule from 1882 - 1952.

You can see, I hope, why a storyline focused on an Egyptian family’s corruption in an Egypt characterised almost entirely by its casinos and one lavish mansion was very uncomfortable. The fact Azu was one of the people trying to explain morality to Hamid keeps it from sliding into a clear East vs West dichotomy, but the fact remains this is a British show featuring British players and this is the story they chose to tell. 

The rest was just salt in the wound, really. 

I expect mispronounced names and pyramids and jokes about camels in most media, but rarely do the makers of said media then go on to pat themselves on the back for doing their “due diligence” on a metacast about sensitivity.

I see weird naming conventions and mispronounced names and “basically Vegas” and “crocodile steak” and “camel’s milk froyo” and I do not see due diligence.  

I see a setting that barely looked past Cleopatra and I do not see due diligence.

I see a storyline that shows only excess and immorality and corruption and I do not see due diligence.

I see a disregard for me and mine, and I do not appreciate it. 

Literature I’ve referred to in writing this criticism:

Orientalism (1978), by Edward W. Said

Orientalism in the Victorian Era (2017), a paper by Valerie Kennedy

Orientalism in American Cinema: Providing an Historical and Geographical Context for PostColonial Theory (2010), a thesis by Samuel Scurry 

Popular Culture, Orientalism, and Edward Said (2012), an article by Robert Irwin

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #resource #criticism #orientalism #representation #long post

[hanibalistic]

#8A4961 | BANG CHAN.

genre | werewolf au, questionable fluff

word count | 2016

warning | mention of injury, mention of poison

the pocket knife in your hand was bloodied with the werewolf hunter's blood, but all you could do as you run the opposite direction from where you were once walking toward was to pray that the wounded hunter, and his friends, did not catch a glimpse of your face.

chan has shifted to his wolf form shortly after the bullet poked through his chest. despite his strong resistance to losing control, whenever emergencies arise, such as being exposed by hunters in a local bar during a quiet drink, even a mighty alpha like him would take precaution and howl to the moon for strength.

chan had no idea where those men came from. he has never seen the likes of them, and he thought he knew all of his enemies already. were those new people? if they were, why have there not been any words spread between packs about this? this is no ordinary matter, this is about a hunting group, a common enemy—he would know if someone new came along.

you made a lucky stab to the closest man when you found out they meant harm, then you jumped off the wooden stool and raced out the bar with chan, who bolted the door to the bar with the heavy, decorative logs placed just outside as a waiting area.

you two did not make it far before a whimper left chan. you paused immediately at the pitiful noise and you turned around to find him barely standing on four paws, wheezing and whimpering with slow, heavy breaths.

widening your eyes when he fell to the side, you rushed toward him, sliding across the snow in the process. you knelt next to him. your weak hands were unable to lift his body when you wanted to examine his wounds, so you resulted in shifting through his furs carefully to find the bullet hole.

you knew there was nothing you could do, there was nothing you knew how to do. staying with seungmin, a beta your age who specializes in herbs and medicine, has taught you nothing about dealing with injuries. but if you could just take a look, you could access how severe it is and plan from there.

"ah–found it!" you brightened up when you found a trace of veins, but as quickly as your smile came, as quickly as it went. that was not the bullet wound, those strong veins were the aftermath of it—the aftermath of a poisoned bullet.

to kill an alpha, a simple bullet would never be enough, not even when he takes it to the heart.

even though you never understood why the killing was not necessary; people are so afraid of potential threats, it is almost stupid, especially when dealing with it causes more loss than letting it be.

"okay, it's okay, let's just... let's find a place to hide and rest," you huffed out quietly, looking around the foggy, snowy forest with furrowed brows, trying to find a way out.

your heart dropped when you found lanterns flashing at a distance.

the hunters were already here.

you saw chan's eyes shift downward, his ears flapping gently. he must have heard the sound of footsteps, or he sniffed out their malicious scent from all the way over there. either way, he was not happy with their approach, and he showed it by letting out a tantrum-like huff.

"it's going to be fine," you told him, but you were more so trying to comfort yourself when you realized chan may soon lose the complete ability to stay conscious and you would be left alone in a foreign tree maze. you slid your hands under his body and struggled to tuck him upwards. "come on, just try to stand, please."

chan complied with your request. he moved slowly, his legs bending and his feet anchored on the ground. he whimpered again when he added pressure to stand, and he fell almost immediately after his attempt. you barely caught him, and your yelp turned the lantern lights toward you.

he gruffed out when he heard the footsteps quicken toward you. he could hear their conversations: talking about your whereabouts, talking about the werewolf in a man's disguise, talking about his faceless companion who could be a potential liability, talking about taking the alpha's weakness.

his gaze sharpened. evidence kept being added to his theory. the fact that he has never seen nor heard of these hunters only proved that they could be sent through a rival pack who deliberately hid the information from them. now, with all this weakness talk? it only reinforced his theory.

chan looked away from the lantern lights to you. your frightened expression made his heart clench—the same expression you held when he found you hiding in your small closet after you got chased down the block and had your apartment door kicked open. the fact that he has to see it again made him fume with anger, and he couldn't think of much else but this: nobody takes you. absolutely nobody takes you, no matter what.

he already killed those who tried once, he will not hesitate to do it again.

"i am so sorry, but please just endure it a little more," you said, mistaking the nudging of his leg as a sign of pain spreading. turning to the approaching light, your breath quickened and you cursed.

think fast, think fast! do something!

you had refused to train to learn how to fight better, and you were unable to participate in meetings of private pack matters. you knew nothing about farming, or hunting for food, or cooking and knitting. you were practically useless, to be harsh, but because of chan, you still have a spot in the pack, a home.

you still stayed with chan's pack despite being traditionally unwelcomed as a human. for what reason, you never knew. some suspected that you may be the alpha's mate, or because chan was just being more generous than usual.

either way, everyone has treated you politely at best, some friendlier and more docile than others. you still have a place to sleep and food to eat. you were still alive right now. and it was all because of chan. he doesn't seem to like you, but he kept you safe nonetheless.

the least you could do was think of a plan. you owe it to him to not panic.

"i–i got something! just move a little for me, chan, please?" you said as you tugged at his torso and attempted to drag him with you. "just to the tree here, really close, please?"

he huffed questioningly but complied. he didn't stand to walk, he wasn't able to. his heightened senses could feel the silver poison spreading through his veins, burning and burning to weaken his system.

all he could do was dig his claws into the ground and drag his body as you pull onto him. it took three big strides for you two to arrive at a snow-covered tree. when you two were there, you immediately took off your jacket and draped it over him.

chan grumbled in protest when you pulled him toward your chest. you snuggled him against you, covering his wound and making it appear as if you were just someone sitting under a tree with a sleeping wolf.

"this is going to work," you muttered to yourself, "we are going to be okay."

the swaying of the lantern sounded—the noise of a door creaking, the sound of a high-pitched rusty gear. the circle light expanded until they were blinding your eyes. it moved away with a creak of the rusty lantern and standing before you was the hunter you remember you nicked with your blade, holding a shotgun in his hand.

"hello? did you need some help?" you asked first, attempting to establish an upper hand in the situation.

it was possible that your face was not discovered at the bar, and there was also a possibility that chan was only known in his human form. you could pass off as a normal residence in this area who is friends with a wolf, that was all.

"this forest is pretty big, it is very easy to get lost," you said with a laugh. "i learned it the hard way."

the hunter raised his brow, suspicious but not backing down yet. he tilted his head, nudging it to the side. "really? i suppose you know how to navigate through it, then?"

you shook your head calmly, a hand sifting through chan's fur. "no, but my friend here does."

"a friend?" he questioned, glaring to the side when his friends snickered under their breath in disbelief. "a wolf is hardly a friend."

"only if you fail to domesticate it."

chan deadpanned quietly. he knew better than to protest loudly at such a thin-ice situation. but please, him? an alpha? being domesticated? what a joke!

"what are you doing here?" ignoring your remark, the hunter asked, to which you sneered gently and sighed.

"i asked you first," you said. "do you need help? this is a big forest."

chan twitched beneath your jacket. you spared him no glance but ran a hand through his fur to soothe him. tilting your head, you flashed an impatient look, urging someone to talk.

"we are... we are looking for two people. one of them a man with–"

"didn't see them. i was sleeping," you interrupted.

"uhm, we followed a trail of footprints and they lead us right to you," he said, gesturing toward the ground where the footprints stopped right at where you two left off.

you raised a brow then, your heart palpitating strongly. but you took a short look at the snowy ground and you relaxed. pulling chan's warm body against you, you slumped closer to the ground and faked a yawn.

"look at the prints, sir," you muttered, "do they look like they came from two people, or one person and one wolf?"

"you guys walked into the wrong forest, sir," you said after a plop of silence. "there are only me and the wolves here."

the man lightly dropped his hand. you raised a fair point, unfortunately for them. despite his suspicion, capturing you both on the spot would be a bad look for them. not to mention, this area is known to have normal wolves littering around befriending humans—more people would believe in your faux innocence than their werewolf story.

"alright then," he voiced, deciding to call the hunt off now. "still, you should be cautious around wolves. they are loyal only to their own, and you are not their own, if you understand what i mean."

chan eyed up at the men. there was a low growl in his throat, the hostility spreading through his instinct to protect your rightful place in the pack, as well as to protest their assumption that you will ever be hurt by his hands.

you kept silent as they took their leave. your mind lingered at the hunter's words, realizing that a part of you knew you thought of what he said before he told you. you could not possibly be considered as their own, after all.

"chan..." you called, "when will i outgrow my welcome in the pack...?"

he shifted, a whimper leaving his lips. his healing ability is ultimately weaker in his human form, but he felt that if he stayed in his wolf form to maintain as much health as he could, he would miss an opportunity to make you feel better. sometimes words do speak louder than action, especially when the action is unclear and ambiguous to the receiver.

“no...” 

steam flowed upwards when chan shifted back to his human form. his clothes were long gone since they got torn apart after his shift. pressing his head to your shoulder to mask the pain in his chest, he huffed, “no.”

that was not a yes or no question, but you understood.

“okay,” you said. “let’s get you home now.”

chan nodded weakly. however you planned to do that, he has no idea.

#skzwritersclub #inkidz #stayhavennet #chan imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #chan x reader #chan x you #chan x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #chan scenarios #chan blurbs #stray kids blurbs #skz blurbs #stray kids #skz #chan #bang chan

[pink-imagines]

hand print

request: i just had an idea lmao so i read your bakugou x baker! s/o hcs and i can totally see him smacking your ass and leaving a flour handprint 😭you don't know its thwre  (continuation): oops lol i sent that before i finished it lol but imagine him not telling you its there and everyone sees it and they're like 👁👄👁

click here to read the head canons i made that inspired this

a/n: i am so rusty at writing so this turned out... well weird.

warnings: ass grabbing

masterlist

requesting rules

You hadn’t gotten a chance to bake in a while. Work always got in the way and your free time was spent relaxing from the amount of work you had. So you had done it. You had worked day in, day out to get an entire week off. Not only that, you had planned to meet up with your old school friends in the middle of that week.  Up to that day you had been making small muffins and even bread, since everyone was coming over to your place. Of course, it wasn’t only your place - you were currently living with your long time partner, Katsuki. The two of you had been a bit on and off since UA, but had finally moved in together after so long. One thing had never changed during all those years, he still loved to tease you when you baked. Baking had been your hobby since you were a kid and, instead of putting his amazing cooking skills to use and help you, he opted for standing beside you and doing everything he could to distract you. Though many would find this act annoying, you found it quite endearing. He wasn’t being mean to you, on the contrary actually. Katsuki tried to do everything he could to make you flustered, just to see how much you could take before you were bound to mess something up. This “distracting” could be anything from suddenly really wanting to dance with you to having to kiss every inch of your body for some unknown reason.

It was the day when everyone was supposed to come over and you were of course planning on making your famous macaroons. To do that you decided to get up early, since your guests would be coming over around four. This idea wasn’t something that Katsuki enjoyed. Not only did he have to spend time with a bunch of people when he could’ve just spent the day off he took with his significant other. He also had to wake up to an empty bed that morning, which according to him was entirely unacceptale. Katsuki decided what he was going to do as soon as his eyes opened to see you walk out the bedroom door what he was going to do.

“You’re wearing jeans at home?”, he questioned as soon as he walked out of the bedroom and saw you in the kitchen. “It’s just so that I don’t have to change later.”, you looked down at your black jeans, “They look okay right?” “You look great, babe... but why jeans.”, he sighed and wrapped his arms loosely around your frame. “It’s not that uncomfortable you know.”, you said and kept mixing your batter that you had prepared the night before. Katsuki’s arms stayed wrapped around you as his chest pressed up against your back. His chin later found your shoulder and placed itself there. “You didn’t have to get up now too, you took the day off.”, you smiled slightly at the memory of you having to beg him to take the day off for today. “... the bed gets too cold without you.”, he muttered. “Are you kidding me? You’re like a personal heater! How can my lack of presence make it cold?”, you chuckled, “If you mean that you missed me you could’ve just said that.” “Well, I didn’t mean that.”, he huffed and took a step away from you. “Lies.”, you teased and pointed your finger at him, “... I missed you too, either way.” You enjoyed seeing the way that his ears went slightly red at your comment. He could easily hide his facial expressions and even the blush on his cheeks, but his ears always went red when he was flustered. “It’s nice to have a week off so that I can spend all the time I can with you.”, you admitted and went back to your baking.

When you had almost finished the macaroons the guests were supposed to arrive in half an hour. Katsuki had been cleaning around the house, all whilst insisting that he really didn’t care if the guests found the apartment messy. However, when you were putting together the finishing the last few heartshaped macaroons before you could put them in the oven he had just gotten out of the shower.  “Katsuki, could you help me put some powdered sugar on the cake I made yesterday?”, you asked him. “You know, you really do too much sometimes.”, he commented whilst getting the powdered sugar out of the cupboard. “I like baking, otherwise I wouldn’t do this.”, you explained. “Jeez this shit really sticks to you easily.”, he said as he opened the packet. “Yeah, be careful you won’t ever get it off that t-shirt - especially since it’s a dark color.” If you had turned around at that moment you would’ve seen the gears in Katsuki’s head turning as you said that - but alas, you were left unaware of his newly found idea. Once he had finished decorating the cake he set the plan into work. “Hey baby...”, he said sweetly and wrapped his arms around you from behind once again, “... you know they won’t be here for a while...” “No, Katsuki.”, you said sternly. “Please, baby?”, he asked and placed a few soft kisses against your neck. “... I know what you-... don’t try me, Bakugo Katsuki.”, you stammered out as your face started getting more and more red. “You’re really cute when you get so flustered over the smallest things.”, he smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. As he walked away from you he smacked your ass and you let out a yelp in surprise. “Hey! You ruined this one!”, you pointed to the now ruined macaroon. “All the other ones are perfect, honey.”, he assured you with a grin. You huffed and returned to your baking, unaware of the powdered sugar print, in the form of a hand, on your pants.

When the first guests arrived you were still finishing up putting your pastries on plates, so you asked Katsuki to welcome them. Once you were finished with the last plate you carried them out to the kitchen table where some people were already seated, talking, while a few others were walking around, looking at your decour. “That looks amazing, Y/N!”, Uraraka complimented as she sat down. “Thank you, I haven’t been out of the kitchen since my break started.”, you smiled, “It’s nice to bake stuff again.” “Do you need any help taking out the rest of the plates?”, Katsuki asked, already walking past you towards the kitchen. “Yeah sure there are a few left.”, you turned around and were about to start walking when someone gasped. “Is that a handprint?”, Mina asked and hurridely walked towards you. “Huh?”, you tried turning to her but she kept you still. “That’s way to big to be your hand...”, she commented. “I don’t see the big deal...”, Shoto said from across the room. “Clearly, Mina is insinuating that someone grabbed Y/N’s bottom.”, Iida explained. “Don’t say bottom, Iida.”, Kaminari groaned. “I’m putting my detective spectacles on!”, Mina pretended to put on glasses, as Katsuki walked back into the room.  You were stood there, frozen, while looking at your boyfriend with an angry look. Of course he would do such a thing! While everyone looked at Katsuki putting down the plates, Mina had little to no patience. As soon as the plates were on the table she grabbed Katsuki’s arm. “Oi! Watch it, pinky!”, he exclaimed. “Just lemme borrow your hand real quick!”, she argued back. An annoyed sigh escaped your lips but before you could speak you felt a hand carress your ass, again. Mina had pressed Katsuki’s hand on the handprint to see if it would match. And of course it matched! It was his! As if the man you had decided to live with couldn’t annoy you more he decided to gently squeeze. “Hey!”, you yelped and turned around. “It was him!”, Mina revelled in her findings. “Yeah, who else would it even be dumbass?”, Katsuki scoffed and went to sit down when someone grabbed his arm again, “What?!” “... Katsuki...”, your grip tightened around his bicep, “You did this?” He gulped.

Let’s just say... he might be one of the best heroes in the country, but he’ll never stop being scared of you when you’re angry.

-

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac | @brithedemonspawn​ | 

#katsuki #bakugou katsuki #Katsuki Bakugō #katsuki x reader #katsuki imagine #imagine #imagines #mha imagines #boku no hero academia imagine #bnha imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfiction #bakugo #bnha bakugou #bakugou imagine

[vanillann]

5 star conversation (reggie peters x reader)

I SAW THIS REQUEST AND SCREAMED I WAS SO EXCITED!!

word count: 4.9k (i can’t believe i wrote that much omg)

5 star conversation masterlist

place one: a 1 star motel

“I can’t believe this!”

Julie and I gave each other warnings look as he leaned against each other. That was Flynn’s “Something is going wrong and it’s the other person's fault” yell, and with how stressful the bus ride was I could tell this was worse.

“What’s wrong?” Reggie leaned over in his chair, his hood covering his face as we hid from camera flashes in the corner of the fancy hotel.

Julie shrugged, looking back to her phone and the Instagram edits of the band she had been tagged in.

“Guys, guys,” Alex did a awkward jog as he came back from the bathroom, the iconic pink hoodie pulled over his head and the front of his baseball hat sticking out.

“What?”

“I don’t think we have rooms,” Alex fell back beside Luke, his anxiety radiating from one person to another.

“Huh?”

We’ve had the tour planned out for months, each state planned and perfectly laid out for the perfect amount of work and play. There wasn’t a chance that we didn’t have the room for tonight, impossible.

“Flynn is too smart for that,” I leaned back, ignoring the way Reggie still leaned forward while his elbows on his knees watching me. It was weird, I knew it was Reggie but the way he sat and the fact I couldn’t see his face made it feel like a different person.

“(Y/N) right, Flynn way to put together for that,” Julie brushed off, hitting my shoulder to show me the edit she had found. It was of Reggie and I from a few shows ago, Flynn had been taking videos to help keep the fan active on us and she caught a video of Reggie and I fake rocking out on the empty stage.

It moved from that to a picture of Reggie and me in the costume store for the Halloween show, little fairy-like hearts floating around us. I smiled at the thought, grabbing Julie’s phone and sending the edit to me.

“Well, we don’t have rooms,” Flynn walked back, not giving any warning as she collapsed on top of Julie and I.

“I told you!”

Alex stood up, pointing his finger between Julie and I, a little smirk forming before he realized the weight of the words.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t tell me that rooms held for over 2 months have to be reinstated two week before or they cancel it,” Flynn didn’t move, laying over Julie and I with a broken spirit.

“I was looking forward to sleeping in a room, those bed’s on the bus suck,” Luke crossed his arms and pouted, looking like a kicked puppy.

“I don’t mind them,” Reggie smiled, bouncing in his seat slightly.

“It’s because you’d never fallen off the top,” Alex bit back, still mad about the sharp turns that have sent him flying the last few nights.

Flynn finally moved off Julie and I, saying nothing as she typed away on her phone. She walked away without another word, looking us back in the corner with hoods up.

I played with the sleeves of my own hoodie that had the new Julie and the Pathoms merch sketch.

“Oh look at this one!”

Julie showed me her phone again, this time a thirst trap edit. Her excitement bought the boys attention to us, all moving to look over my shoulder at the edit.

It started with a few of Julie with her amazing stage gear and a few photos from her instagram, neon letters over her head read “The Singer''. Then jumped to the few videos and pictures of Flynn that Julie and I would post behind her back, this time the neon letters read “The Manager''. Next was my face, bright smiles and a few of me backstage with an old Sunset Curve tee and sweat rolling down my back, the words said “The Designer ''.

I read the caption, smiling at “They carry the band” and laughing as the guys talked about the story behind each photo.

“I took the one of you in my old shirt,” Reggie smiled, staying beside me with his arm around the back of my seat. I did my best to ignore the butterflies, which became easy when Flynn came back with a smile.

“I found a motel across the street that will take us,” she spoke with pride, rightfully so as she saved us from another night on that bus.

“Oh I love you,” Alex jumped up, his arms wrapping around Flynn in a heartbeat. Julie smiled, standing up and putting the phone in the pocket of her hoodie.

“Come on, up,” Reggie jumped up, holding a hand up from me as I had started to slip down in my seat. I smiled, taking his cold hands and standing completely up with a smile.

“Thank you Reginald,” I winked, following the others as we made our way to the front of the hotel. I could already hear the crowd waiting for us, their cameras probably at the ready to take some pictures of the uprising band.

“Hoods up soldiers,” Luke announced, keeping Julie close as they were already openly in a relationship so nothing too bad could be made out of them. Alex stood in front of me, Flynn close behind as Reggie was an inch behind me.

I said nothing when I felt a small hand on my back, too caught up in the loud voices and the calling of our names.

“(Y/N)! Is it true you are jealous of the band!”

“(Y/N), Did you sleep with lead singer Luke even with him dating Julie?”

“Are the rumors of Reggie and you true?”

I was thankful we had made it cross the sidewalk when a large bus cut them all off, giving up enough time to make it to the motel without a problem. I was thankful once we made it inside but not for long as I took the place in.

The plants in the corner were dead, the desk was dusty and the couches looked to be from the 1800′s, not the good kind.

“How many stars does this place have?”

“Uhm, 4?” Flynn voiced jumped up, saying nothing to us as she walked up and dinged the bell on the front desk. I rolled my eyes, pulling out my phone and opening it to Google.

“What are you goggling?”

“Google, and this motel,” I corrected Reggie, doing a quick search of my location and found the name of the rusty place. When I saw the rating I almost screamed.

“This place just barely has one star!”

“What,” Luke ran from the random statue he was messing with to my side, tugging the phone so he could read the reviews.

“Apparently they had a rat in a bed once,” I spoke, reading over the words in horror.

“Nope, I’ll stay on the bus,” Alex let his hands fall to his side, walking back to the door before he noticed that the camera flashes had almost doubled and no way he could make it out without a panic attack.

“Evening.”

When I heard the vile voice I jumped into Reggie's side without thinking, looking up at the older man who was looking Flynn up and down like meat.

“I need six room,” Flynn didn’t waste time, holding the credit card in between her fingers as she did her best not to be a coward.

“He looks like the witch from Hansel and Gretel,” I whispered into Reggie’s ear, ignoring the way his arm seemed to drift to my waist.

“I don’t know how that is but I agree.”

“We only have only three rooms, little lady,” the man spoke, reaching for the credit card before Flynn moved it out of reach.

“You told me on the found you had six,” Flynn bit back, I admired her confidence in this moment as everyone was slowly losing there the longer we stood in this lobby.

“The paparazzi will have fun with this,” Julie reached my side, looking over her shoulder and the few shots they could get through the windows of the dusty place.

“Got that right.”

“Fine, will bunk up,” Flynn gave up with the man, it wasn’t any use and we were all tired of setting up the stage and soundcheck today. I had spent hours hunched over the computer trying to get the mercy drop reaching tomorrow morning, my back sore and my head hurting.

The man passed Flynn the keys, after she watched him closely to make sure he didn’t charge us extra. She walked over to us, obviously annoyed but calming down the closer she got to us, she knew how to manage her anger until it was only Julie and I around.

“Julie and I will take one room, Alex and (Y/N) will take another-'' I smiled as Alex was my go-to room partner.

“-And Luke and Reggie got the last,” Flynn started handing out keys when Luke started to pout.

“Last time I slept in the same room as Reggie he talked the entire night,” Luke pointed at Reggie, causing the boy beside me to frown.

“You sleep talk? I’ve never heard it,” I shrugged and looked at Luke who was confident that “Reggie sleep talks”.

“Why can’t I take Alex and (Y/N) take Reggie?”

This felt so out of character for Luke, he never missed an opportunity to hang out with Reggie, they always bunked together. It was weird how everyone agreed, which felt even more out of character.

“Okay it’s settled,” I wanted to say something, as a night in a room alone with Reggie would be horrible for my crush, but I didn’t want Reggie to think nobody wanted to bunk with him.

Reggie shrugged, taking our key from Flynn and grabbing my go-bag I’d set on the ground of the dirty motel.

“I’ll get our bags, I know you’ll sit with Fylnn and Julie before you come up,” he didn’t sound mad or upset, he was smiling widely as he skipped to the elevator before stopping halfway through and going to the stairs instead.

“What a gentleman,” Luke winked at me, smirking between the group as if he had done something.

That’s when it hit me, he had done something.

“Oh, you liar,” I pointed my finger at Luke’s chest, my pout similar to his earlier as I looked up to someone I called a close friend, basically family.

“I did nothing of the sort, he did talk all night last time we bunked together but it was because we decided we wanted to pull an all-nighter,” Luke shrugged, looking at the other three in the loony, all smiling at me.

“You’re all vile people,” I spoke, looking to Alex who wanted to laugh so bad by the look on his face.

“And you, why would you do this to me?”

“Because I’m so tired of Reggie and you dancing around each other,” Alex gave me a stern look, making me deflate slightly but that didn’t stop me.

“We do not,” the group finally started to move again, since Reggie would already be in the room and we didn’t want him suspicious.

“Oh no, you’re the liar now,” Luke sang over my shoulder, grabbing his and Julie’s bag, Alex getting him and reaching for Flynn bag who insisted she had it.

“His hands were all over you this morning on the bus,” Julie jumped in, grabbing my shoulders and leading me through the stairway.

“He was teaching me how to play bass,” I crossed my arm, knowing this conversation wasn’t going anywhere.

“Reggie never lets anyone touch his bass!”

I rolled my eyes, they were all insane at this point.

“The reason there are so many ship edits of you guys is that you give them so much to work with,” Flynn said from the front of the group, a kick in her step about the entire idea.

“It’s because fans are crazy,” we had finally made it to the third floor, opening the door and all walking into the smelly hallways.

“It smells like a pack of cigarettes,” I almost coughed as I spoke, watching Reggie’s back open the door and slide into our room.

“You coming to sit with us?”

“No, I’m mad at you all,” I frown, but none of my friends worried as I’d forgive in the morning because they were impossible to stay mad at.

“Suit yourself, also he didn’t have any two bedrooms so have fun sharing a bed,” Flynn gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek and skipped to her and Julie’s room.

“I’ll kill you,” I yelled at Flynn as she walked into her room, Julie giving a sweet waver over her shoulder.

“I wonder if they have a mini-fridge,” Luke spoke, opening the door as the two boys gave me an exciting wave as if they weren’t making my life harder.

“(Y/N)? Why are you yelling?”

I looked down a door or two to see Reggie leaning against the doorframe of our room with a white tee and black and red plaid pajama pants.

He was going to be the death of me.

“Uhm, Fylnn told me they didn’t have a breakfast bar,” I did my best to lie, smiling as I made my way to the door Reggie leaned against, his little smile made me feel light and fluffy.

“I’ll get us one of the Ubers to take us to that little diner on the corner,” Reggie smiled, not moving from the doorframe once I reached it.

I didn’t want to slide past him but I did, doing my best not to come in contact with him as that may just make it worse but luckily he moved back so that didn’t happen.

“Thank god, I like the layout of it.”

I saw the single Queen bed in the center of my room and my heart broke as I thought about Fylnn’s words, she wasn’t just trying to get under my skin.

“Yeah, I know you love dinners that look like they are from the 50s.”

My heart shouldn’t have been on fire because of his words but it 100% was. He remembered those little quirks and it started to make me feel light-headed.

“Yeah they’re my favorite,” I smiled over my shoulder, reaching for my bag I had packed for the night in the motel, luckily bought my sleep stuff and asleep attire.

“There was one by my house back in the 90s, it was right out of that movie you had me watched,” Reggie fell back on the left side, leaving the right side open for me.

He knew what freaking side of the bed I slept on, I was going to combust.

“Grease,” I ignored the way his arms bulged as he laid them behind his hand, looking up at me as I looked through my bag for a few more things.

“Yeah that one, I think I should do my hair like David-“

“Danny,” I corrected as I made my way to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked so I could keep the conversation but still closed enough so I wasn’t worried about Reggie seeing me.

“Oh yeah, I should do my hair like him.” I smiled to myself, imagining Reggie dancing around as a Danny from Grease, the excitement he would have.

I tried not to think about how hot he’d look with his hair slick back.

“Do it for Halloween next year,” I spoke up, splashing water on my face to make me feel a little calmer.

“But I thought we would do a matching costume?”

I was going to scream and cry if he didn’t stop acting like the perfect boy. How do you lie because Reggie Freaking Peters and not fall in love with him?

“You could be Sandy!”

I felt myself smile again, looking down at the short and long shirt I had stolen from Alex that sat on top of the toilet.

“You can have red lipstick and those leather pants,” he sounded like a child that was just given candy, he was jumping just at the thought of the costume together.

“The fans would love it,” maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring them up, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying it.

“They would! They’d probably talk about how cool you look for months,” I finally got the shirt over my head, looking at myself in the mirror, my nerves calming the longer the conversation went on.

Reggie wouldn’t make this awkward on purpose, I knew that.

“Yeah, but they’d like us matching. They wouldn’t let the dating rumor die though”, I stepped out from the bathroom, careful not to hit the creaking floorboard I found earlier.

“Oh, I didn’t think about that,” I watched his face fall and maybe my heart broke a little, but it was probably better. If it didn’t I would have possibly let this crush grow more and more and I didn’t need that.

“Eh, I don’t really care what the fans think.”

Heart please don’t explode, you have a merch drop tomorrow.

“Must be nice,” I fell back on the bed, laying the same way as Reggie as we looked at the ceiling that could probably fall in any second now.

“Why do you care?”

I watched him flip on his stomach out of the corner of my eye, him watching me but my eyes didn’t leave the ceiling.

“They just like making rumors with people that aren’t in the band sometimes more than the ones in the band. You four are more open than Flynn and I so they can only make so many rumors, but Flynn and I,” I trailed off, not knowing if he wanted this conversation to get too emotional.

“Yeah I noticed that, I mean you're cheating with Luke!”

I laughed at this tone, that definitely was a real crazy one that just started.

“I literally hit him in the head with the mic stand yesterday and kept walking and people think we’re dating”, I laugh at the afterthought, Luke's face when the mic stand went by his face. He was fine, but I didn’t have time to help him up and he understood that.

“That was great to watch, I haven’t seen Luke that confused since we landed here,” I spotted his show stopping smile in the corner of my eye.

“He’s a mess that’s why.”

“All three of us are a mess, without you, Julie, and Flynn we would be dead.”

“You’re already dead,” I tried to keep a straight face but as soon as I looked at Reggie my giggles filled the room, a hand on my stomach as I rolled over slightly.

“You’re horrible! You’re laughing at my death!”

I kept laughing, looking over at him a few times but it only caused me to laugh harder.

“I can’t believe I was excited to have a sleepover with you,” he had a goofy smile on his face as he watched me roll around.

“You 're excited,” I was finally calming down, trying to blame my racing heart on laughing.

“Yeah!”

He was so confident in his answer it felt like he meant it, like he wasn’t just being nice or just happy to be close with his friend.

Reggie liked being with people, he was a people person, and I was a person.

“I was excited too.”

Wow (Y/N) don’t you love your loud mouth.

He looked around my face, his eyes tracing my features with a smile painted across his face. I was shocked someone could be so happy like looked at me, but he did and it felt nice.

It was creepy or uncomfortable, nothing with Reggie ever was. He made everything feel easy, and maybe that’s why he has plagued my thoughts for so long.

“We should head to bed,” I could speak above a whisper with the way he was looking at me, the way his eyes traced my nose and my eyes.

“Yeah.”

We didn’t move, just watching each other as if it was supposed to be sleep for us. I wasn’t tired watching him like this, how could I be tired when he made me feel more alive than ever.

The loud knock on the door brought me out of my trace, my fear of what could be at the door had me moving closer to Reggie without thinking.

I felt the side of the move, Reggie slowly walking to the moldy wooden door with the small peep hole, or more like someone put a nail though and took it out.

He looked through it, reading to each for the candlestick before he rolled his eyes and swung open the door. Alex stood with an awkward smile, doing an odd dance before smiling at Reggie and I.

“Alex?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” I finally realized why he was dancing and smiled to himself.

“Sure but why?”

As soon as he heard my yes he pushed past Reggie, running into the thin wall bathroom without an answer until I heard him yell “Yes!”

“Our bathroom had some weird bug in the toilet and Julie and Flynn’s bathroom was connected to some weird old dude who fell asleep on the toilet,” Alex responded through the door, the excitement obviously in his voice.

“Looks like I got the good room,” Reggie smiled but I was hoping Alex would catch on to my comment and by the way he laughed I think he did.

“Shut up (Y/N)!”

Reggie knocked on the door jokingly as he passed, making his way back to the other side of the bed.

“How did Julie and Flynn get a conjoining room?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to,” Alex yelled back, the sound of running water confirmed he was now washing his hands.

“You don’t have paper towels,” Alex opens the door, holding his hands in front of him as he looks like a kicked puppy.

“Use your shirt,” Reggie nodded at him, both him and I on our side as we watched Alex.

“It’s not mine! It’s Willie’s.”

“We won’t tell if you don’t,” I smiled back, giving Alex a wink.

“I accidentally told him,” Alex muttered as he started walking to the door, waving back at us and he left to go back to his own room.

As soon as the door shut I let myself laugh a little at my close friend, slowly reaching for the lamp and lifting the covers up. I could feel Reggie doing the same as the cold air hitting my skin when it moved and disappearing once it fell.

“Must I say, this motel isn’t that bad.”

I turned to look back at Reggie, the only reason I could see his face was because of the city lights from the window that danced across his face.

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, this place breaks every violation ever, but I think places like this bring out the best stories,” Reggie moved to look at me, his nose close to my own and he smiled at me.

I smiled, it was truly the Reggie-ish thing I had ever heard.

“I believe that,” I spoke softly, watching him again but this time the tension was thick, it felt so much calmer.

“Julie and Flynn will never forget the creepy guy, Alex and Luke will laugh about Alex blatter, and I’ll never forget the best sleepover ever,” each word brought a little larger smile on his face, my heart racing again at his words.

“I mean that much to you?” I said the words jokingly, placing a hand over my heart as I spoke but Reggie took it differently.

“Most definitely,” his words are soft, making my eyes grow tired as his breath fan across my face.

He was watching me again, this time he looked like an angel with the way the city light bounced off his cheeks and bought out his pink lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” his face looked like it was moving closer to me but I knew better than to think that, but that didn’t crush that little hope in the back of my head.

“If you were there in the 90s, I’d probably still be alive,” eye contact was made and I thought I would jump him there.

“I wasn’t alive then.”

“I know, but you’re alive now and I feel alive,” Reggie shrugged as if his words didn’t mean everything to me.

Like he didn’t mean everything to me. I felt myself break eye contact, smiling like a fool as I looked to the tv that was barely hanging on the wall.

“You’re cold,” I spoke softly, because what else was I supposed to say?

“You’re warm,” as he spoke he grew closer to me, resting his head near my collarbone as he waited for me to speak but it never came.

“Can I lay my head on your shoulder?”

“Most definitely,” I repeated his rooms from earlier, smiling when I felt his hair brush my cheek and he drew close to me.

“Goodnight (Y/N),” he spoke softly, his words causing shivers to run up and down my spine like a track race.

“Goodnight Reggie.”

A loud bang on the door woke me up, causing me to almost fall from the bed if the hand that grabbed my shirt wasn't a tiger. His arms weren’t around me, simply holding me closer by my shirt, his head still on my shoulder as my head laid on his.

“Flynn has coffee!” Julie’s voice was joyus, making a smile spread across my lips. My friends knew me so well, my hands gently pulling Reggie’s fist from my shirt. I carefully pulled myself from the bed, tip-toeing across the room to the door. I didn’t even need to look through the peephole to know who was on the other side.

“Did you get a cup for your neighbor?”

Flynn smiled, dropped, and the coffee she held out to me was brought closer to her chest.

“And to think I gave you a kiss yesterday,” I rolled my eyes, reaching out for the coffee that was easy to pull from her hands.

“Luke and Alex are stealing breakfast from the hotel we were supposed to be staying at,” Julie brushed past me, stopping in her tracks when she noticed Reggie's sleeping body, obviously splashing on both sides of the bed.

“How are they doing that?”

“I don't wanna know, but I do wanna know what happened here last night,” Julie  spun around, pointing at Reggie over her shoulder.

“We talked and went to bed,” I shrugged, doing my best to keep my voice down but it wouldn’t change anything, Reggie was a heavy sleeper.

“I thought you would make a plate on the floor or something,” Flynn spoke as she joined us in the room, slowly walking to Reggie and inspecting him.

“That felt rude,” I sipped on the coffee, smiling when I realized Julie and Flynn got my order right.

“Or,” Julie turned around, poking my side with a goofy smile. I rolled my eyes, my excitement from last night and the presents of my friends was sending me through the roof and I don’t think I could handle it much longer.

“Guys!”

I looked down the hall, smiling when I saw Alex and Luke breathing heavily with large bags of hopeful food in their hands.

“Is that from the hotel?”

“Of course,” Luke smiled as he slipped into the room, handing me one of the bags so I could place it on the small table in the motel.

“We got chased out but we did it!”

I laughed at Alex's face, the anxiety was obvious but the smile told me he was fine and there wasn’t much to worry about.

“Well well well,” Luke walked around the bed, smiling at Reggie’s sleeping form.

“Don’t say a word,” I opened one of the bags and pulled a small piece of pancake off, and threw it in the air, catching it in my mouth easily. Perks of being friends with Luke, he teaches great party tricks.

“Aren’t you two the cutest,” Luke came over to my side, waving Julie over to show me something on her phone. I looked over my shoulder, watching a new edit that was posted maybe an hour ago.

“Reggie and (Y/N) were seen awfully close leaving their hotel last night,” the E! News reporter said, the edit jumping to a meme I had seen of a dude crying. Next thing I knew pictures from last night flash across the screen, Reggie’s hand on my lower back. The edit jumped to other pictures of us joking around followed.

I smiled, turning back to the bag and pulling another piece of pancake out.

“Awh look at that,” Flynn pitched my cheeks, smiling at my as I laughed it off. Butterflies were flying through my stomach but I didn my best to hide it.

“What?”

Everyone turned to Reggie once sleeping form, his eyes scanning the room before he fell back to the bed.

“Did anyone knock?”

“We did,” Julie smiled, flopping on the bed so her head laid on his legs.

“I wasn’t informed,” Reggie sat up, looking at me with a grumpy frown. I shrugged, taking another bite of pancake while smiling at him.

“What? You wanted me to wake you?”

“Most definitely,” Reggie smiled, the conversation from last night still floating around his brain.

I nodded, looking down at my hands and thought back to the late night we had with nothing but calming security.

He was right, crappy motels brought the best memories out in people.



#reggie x y/n #reggie peters x reader #japt reggie #reggie peters #reggie tag #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp x reader

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 11 - AO3

D-Day.

M. Devereux, the history professor, was handing back their projects, finally graded. Felix, of course, knew that his and Marinette’s deserved nothing less than a perfect score.

What grades other people got… well, that was their own business. If they decided to share that information with the class, then he’d take pleasure in it.

He and Marinette received their own before certain other people. He flipped open the professional black binder to reveal their perfect score on the cover page. Marinette’s smile was blinding and Felix found it hard to breath for a second as a soft smile that only existed around his mother began to form on his lips.

“What!?” A screech flung from the front of the class. His smile morphed into a smirk as Rossi stared at M. Devereux with horrified eyes. “How did we get a failure!?”  

“If you have any questions about your results, I will address them after class, Mlle. Rossi.”

“B-But we used Lila’s notes!” Cesaire replied unable to stop a glance at those in the back. In her hands, clear for everyone to see, was the rose-imbedded binder Felix had ‘lost’ the week previous. “It should have been perfect!”

“After class.”

Rossi shot a glare at them—pathetic, she thought she still had a chance—and burst into a symphony of fake tears. “I-I knew I shouldn’t have let Marinette look at our project! She probably swapped the contents of our binder when I wasn’t looking!”

The class turned back to look at them, but M. Devereux would have no accusations of plagiarism in his class. “While it is possible someone could have switched your assignment, it is because both you and Mlle. Cesaire’s names were only on the title page of your assignment. M. Graham de Vanily and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s names were on each page in the header, as the formatting instructions required.” His eyes narrowed. “Please refrain from shouting in my classroom.”

“T-Then!” Rossi’s voice cracked unpleasantly, “They must have re-typed the assignment!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “That’s too much work.”

Marinette nodded, then frowned. “Hey… isn’t that the binder you lost last week?” She asked, her voice the perfect picture of innocence, drawing the class’s attention to the rather memorable piece of leather. “The one you reported to lost and found but never heard back from?”

“Yes, I think it is. Why do you both have it?”

Rossi snatched the binder from Cesaire’s arms, clutching it to her chest. “No it’s not! It must be a different one!”

One of the other classmates spoke up—a blond one, the Princess Fragrance girl. “But it has the same rose on it!” By holding it against her chest, Rossi revealed the memorable rose backing to the world. “I remember it because I thought it was so pretty!”

“Y-Yeah, that’s why I bought one just like it!” Rossi’s smile was flawless.

Felix cocked an eyebrow. “You bought a hundred-euro binder that looks exactly like the one that went missing?” Some strain. He shrugged. “Sure, I’ll buy it… if you can provide the receipt.”

“Huh?”

“The receipt, Rossi.” Felix dug around in his back for his receipt pouch and pulled out the one for the binder; it was ready at the front just for this purpose. “I have my own, for my binder. Provide yours, and I won’t report you for stealing.”

“I bought it online,” came the swift lie.

“Then show proof of purchase on your phone,” Marinette quickly rebutted.

“Not that she can,” Felix added. “Since this store doesn’t sell it’s more expensive items online, only in person.” He grinned, watching as the rusty gears in Rossi’s head began to smoke from the pressure. “So how’d you manage to do that?”

“It’s not from the same store, obviously.”

“So another store just so happened to be carrying the exact same handmade binder?” he snorted. “Just tell us the truth, Rossi; some of us want to go to lunch.”

“I… I…” Her eyes were darting around the room, meeting friendly and unfriendly gazes alike when she suddenly burst into tears. “I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I found the binder in lost and found! It, it was so pretty, and I didn’t know it was yours, Felix! Please forgive me!”

The few hostile classmates seemed to be on the brink of doing so, but before Felix could interject, Marinette said, “So you stole it from lost and found? How is that much better?”

“That’s not the same, Marinette,” Adrien said, narrowing his eyes at her. So he would defend the liar and not his own cousin’s stolen property? How shameful… and utterly expected. “It was just lost and found. If it was important to Felix, he wouldn’t have lost it, would he?”

“I’ve found Markov in lost and found; are you saying that he’s not important?” The Gamer boy’s jaw dropped, before he leveled a glare at Adrien. “And Alix’s skates, and Nathaniel’s sketchbook, and Rose’s perfumes. Are you saying those aren’t important?”

“No!”

“Then why isn’t it important when it’s your cousin’s things?”

“That’s enough!” M. Devereux spoke above her voice. “Students, you are dismissed for lunch. Mlle. Cesaire, Mlle. Rossi, stay. We have something to speak about.” The students hesitated, unsure. “I want this classroom empty now.”

Felix and Marinette escaped in the max exodus, Felix gloating inwardly at the scowl Rossi shot him. It felt good to irritate her. They separated from the class to head towards the bakery.

As soon as they were out of sight, Mariette let out a little giggle. “They didn’t even check it!”

“Shows their average intelligence then, though I wasn’t really expecting them too. I did insinuate that the project was complete, after all. And who proofreads the assignment they stole?” It was a bit tedious, go through their own assignment and altering the dates and names so that only half the timeline was correct, but he considered it well worth the effort.

“So that’s what you two did.” They stopped and turned. Adrien had been following them, a stern scowl on his face. Felix felt Marinette falter at his side. “You deliberately made them fail.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say deliberately.” Felix quickly shielded her with his body. “It was more of a happy accident that they didn’t check. My real plan was to use the binder from the start.” No one buys a binder like that unless they wanted it to be remembered, after all.

“But you still let them turn in a false assignment.”

“That they stole. They didn’t have to steal it. They didn’t have to turn in work that wasn’t theirs. They chose this outcome.” Felix tapped his chin. “Or rather, Rossi chose this.”

“They couldn’t choose anything, they didn’t know anything! Lila was probably just… worried about her grade. If anything, you two should have helped her!”

“If she needed help, she should have met with the teacher. Not steal another person’s assignment. If you must, think of it as a prank. Or karma.”

“It’s not karma when you make other people suffer for her actions!” Adrien snapped. “Now Lila’s probably going to get akumatized again!”

“And how is that our problem? We’re kids, we don’t have to deal with akumas.”

Adrien’s argument seemed to stumble, his eyes growing wide. “C-Chat Noir will have to! I’m just trying to keep down the amount of work the heroes face! Although—” Adrien’s eyes gained a rather cruel glint to them— “You wouldn’t know much about that, would you. In fact, if I remember right, you make their jobs harder.”

Felix failed to hide a wince at the thought of the triple akuma he caused. But before he could return fire, Marinette spoke up from behind him, though her voice was too low to hear.

Adrien frowned. “What was that?”

“I said—” Marinette brushed past Felix, her eyes shining wetly with rage. “That’s a LOW BLOW, Adrien Agreste!!” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Before you leave, I have made a spotify playlist for this fic. You can find it here. Feel free to leave suggestions for the playlist, as it is mostly musical songs at this point (I even surpassed my hatred of Dear Evan Hanson to put a few of those songs on it, so I need suggestions, please). Thank you!

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

#felinette #hey little songbird #lila salt #adrien salt #ml salt #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #adrien agreste #lila rossi #alya cesaire #oc teacher character #mlb #ml fanfic