#it's money stolen in the same way your boss steals money from you when he says you clocked in two minutes late on tuesday so he's docking

[softshuji]

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟐𝐏𝐌 | 𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀

Title: Little Black Dress

Summary: Working for Bonten has always had it's perks, like the anonymous gifts you receive every morning. But surely your secret admirer and the Boss you're sleeping with can't be one and the same... right? (see a/n at the bottom) reblogs appreciated! Link to masterlist here!

cw: fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, pet names (pretty girl, good girl) izana and reader both have a sir kink (I'm sorry), alcohol, assumed unrequited feelings (he's a bit dense and awkward), jealousy, implied panty stealing, unprotected sex, ptv, possessiveness, thigh riding, foreplay, a hint of degradation (it's not much promise), biting, marking, orgasm denial, breeding, hair pulling, light choking, loads of praise, it's pure filth i'm sorry. MDNI. This is my first time writing NSFW so be nice yeah?

You and Izana like playing games.

The kind where you pretend like you’re using each other for some purpose or other, ravenous appetites that you sate till you’ve had your fill, two equally gluttonous, hungry people who don’t mind the copious sex and the copious money and all the splashed cash that you think might suffice enough for you not to talk about the type of relationship you have. 

Maybe it’s because he’s your boss, and you’re his subordinate and you have long foregone that boundary that separates you as something more but you’ve never questioned it, why he calls you into his office to sit you on his lap with his fingers dancing over your skin, a ghost of a touch that often slips between your legs. By accident of course, as if it’s your own needs and desires that he’s relieving, and not the fact that his skin thrums and his stomach jumps when you buck your hips against his hand to chase the friction he’s denying you by pulling you along to cynically laugh at in desperation.

Maybe it’s because in the late hours, long after the sunset has bled into a cobalt blue night, he finds you still here, at work in an office, the dress he gifted you still sitting pristine in a box on the desk, looking over accounts and reports and emails that you’d sworn couldn’t wait till morning.

And maybe that’s how it had started, closer to midnight, and he’d found you for the first time, in the dress you’d been sent by an anonymous sender that swelled from where your hips were flush against the fabric, all curves and shadows and accented silk that had his cheeks flushing, as if he hadn’t stolen into your house to read your sizes during your absence. 

Not that he’d stopped after that, and perhaps if you’d bothered to check your undergarments drawer you’d have noticed the worryingly thin stash of black lace panties that you could swear wasn’t half as short in supply last time you checked.

Some habits are hard to break, no? And really, did it matter when there was always something on your desk to make up for it at the end of the week? A pearl necklace, coral shell pink and rose gold that sat against your skin, jade earrings and dainty Rolex watches that the others marvel at when they catch your eye in the mornings, all sleep and slumber still caked under their eyes marred by half-shadows.

‘That’s Pretty,’ Ran says and holds up your wrist to the light, your palm now stroked by his long and lithe fingers, the callouses grazing the sharp indent of your wrist, enough to have you sucking in a breath when he grazes your knuckles achingly slow, torturous in the way he likes. ‘Someone get that for you?’

You’re too drunk on his touch to notice the dark and heavy glint in his eye, violet rays that splash over your arms, roaming over the silk that hugs your body, the curve of your neck where the amply applied concealer hides the heavy purple bruises left by your boss the night before. 

‘Yeah, an anonymous sender,’ you say and flush when he smirks, half hidden by the way his mouth ghosts over the veins in your wrist, soft and warm breath that tickles your skin down to your stomach where the ache settles unremittingly. 

‘Uh-huh… They’ve got a good eye. Pretty things for a Pretty Girl huh?’ 

You pretend it means nothing when the others let their gazes slide over and away from you, some forbidden thing, when Izana walks into the room, a stiffness that permeates the air then and never a moment after, once he has left and they release a collective breath trapped in equally lustful lungs. 

‘Something came for you this morning,’ Kakucho says, a card slid over the table, a boutique name you don’t recognise, and a velvet box inlaid with burnished gold. You feign surprise, a raise of your eyebrows, as if it’s something new, as if Kakucho hasn’t had the conversation so many times already. 

‘Why not just tell her how you feel?’

And Izana scoffs, turns towards the window where the rain falls in droves, a darkened shadow against the grey velvet curtains, the thin slap of it on the roof where it drowns the aching pulse of his heart against his ribs. It should be easy, everything else considered. He’s killed before, bled out in the snow and lived, but it seems trivial when he considers the frown that could accompany your rejection, a slice of fresh pain across his lungs that he’s convinced could be enough to kill him outright. 

‘Again?’ you say, and the thin gold chain slips out onto your palm, the light dancing on the marbled ceiling, a shaft catching on Kakucho’s ivory white eye. ‘There’s never a return address so I can’t even give it back.’

‘Someone must really like you,’ he says, offhandedly, his waistcoat shuffling as he lifts a coffee cup to his lips, turning away towards the mahogany table as the others shuffle towards the door, a smirk hidden behind the hair dancing against his cheek.

‘Mhm, I don’t really deserve all this though, and I don’t even know who they are.’

He turns, an eyebrow raised over the lip of the cup, a graze of his gaze along your collarbone where the dainty chain sits, a kiss of gold on your skin. ‘You deserve that and more, clearly someone else thinks so too.’

Often, you wonder if there is a game being played here, a cat and mouse that you can never grasp, constantly clutching at the end of the string as it’s pulled. They never seem worried and it should bother you, would bother you, if you didn’t feel so safe in the warm encompassing circles of their arms, your heart cradled by their rough hands, a soft touch and graze along your cheek that you pretend is only ever part of the job.

Izana finds you like that on the same night, the rain slapping against the windowpane, the soft and tinny clink of it that slips in through the open window, smooth jazz that fills the empty space in your office, underlaid between the scratch of your pen on paper and the click of your nails on the keyboard. 

He knocks once, a whispery, ‘It’s me,’ that slips underneath the draught at the bottom, before the door swings, a creak on the hinges and the soft pad of his feet on the beige carpet. He holds a hand against the door, as if he’s ashamed of the sound, a frequent glance back at the empty corridor, where the overhead lights seem to pull the shadows closer, a quiet beckon into the safety of your office. 

‘Izana sir,’ you say and lift your head from behind the monitor, the blue light pulling at the taut skin of your cheeks, where the tiredness clings to your skin, a thin sheen of exhaustion curling at the faint shadows under your eyes. ‘Is everything okay?’ 

It’s not uncharacteristic, though the two of you like to pretend it’s new every time, like it’s the very first instance of him coming to you for comfort, for warmth, a quick grab of your light that he eats so ravenously, that he wishes he could swim in and perhaps if you believed in yourself anymore, you could admit that it wasn’t just that you were convenient to sink his teeth into, that maybe you were something more.

‘Mmh? Yeah I’m fine.’ He teeters on the edge, a foot inside the office and not, a hand on the doorknob, his body angled so that he’s both inside and out, a step from foot to foot with apprehension. He curses himself then, inaudibly, for biting his lip, his hand clammy against the door, the hesitant shift of his suit that seems inexorably loud in the otherwise quiet building. He hears a laugh, somewhere far off, Shion and the Haitanis receding towards the exit, the full and raucous giggling that falls to an abrupt stop when the doors close, the tinny plink of the rain that patters on the window. ‘You’re still here?’ he says, for something to say, a furious press of his nails into his palm at his own lack of tact, and it burns that he’s nervous and hiding it this many months later, as if he hasn’t stolen into your house to run his lithe fingers along your sheets, his mind marvelling at the indent of you on the mattress. 

Your eyes fall over him, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the honey of his skin where the streetlight sits so perfectly, the silver glow of his hair that kisses at his cheeks. ‘Y-yeah, I didn’t want to leave this until morning.’ Your tongue trips, in the way it always has around him, a thick and heavy film that coats your teeth. ‘Come in, I’ll get you a drink.’

You stand, and he moves, the door clicked shut as he lingers along your desk, his fingers drumming on the velvet box, a bare and quick glance at the gold trim. He knows you like pretty things, and maybe he finds it easier like this, copious gifts and sex that he hopes is enough to tell you what he can’t, the complicated tangle of his feelings barred behind the trapdoor, and really, Kakucho is right, he could tell you how he feels, and then wait for the inevitable hurt that he is so sure is coming, the icicle of pain and rejection you’re sure to stab into his heart, because he is just your boss, and you are just his employee.

You turn away from him towards the drinks cabinet and he allows a single moment to marvel at how the dress clings to you, a slip of a thing that licks at your thighs, a little shorter when you reach upwards for the glasses in the cabinet, the lacey trim of your stockings slipping into view. Maybe it’s shameful, how you wear the things without knowing who they’re from, as if you don’t know how he’ll tear it off you, run his hands along the insides of your thighs to feel the silk and satin on the backs of his scarred hands, a harsh tug of your hips to pull you flush against him.

‘You should have gone home,’ he says, a lie of course, slipping effortlessly through his teeth, and you only smile over your shoulder, a thin and watery thing that has his throat aching.

‘I don’t mind.’ You hold two glasses in one hand, and pull the decanter off the shelf with the other, the amber swirl inside lightning to gold when you move past the window again, copper light that weaves through your dress and his hands itch, a harsh and aggressive clench of his fists against his sides.

There is a slosh, amber swirling into the crystal and a glass handed over, a murmured thank you that’s lost underneath the undulating slap of the rain on the roof. He watches you over the rim, the fold of your legs, one on top of the other and alluringly splayed out so that your stockinged foot grazes his ankle, your bare arms kissed by goosebumps prickling across your skin. The gold chain sits on your collarbone, a single flash of light on your otherwise bare skin.

‘How come you came? I thought you’d have…’ 

He tilts his head, the sweep of his sharp white hair falling against his nose, the dress shirt slipping open as he lifts his glass to tease the patch of golden honey skin on his chest, his tie skewed. ‘What?’

‘Just….’ You suck in a breath, a quick slip of your gaze from the haunting violet burn of his eyes, to the marbled ceiling, the silhouette of him spreading his thighs on your sofa burned onto the roof, a dark shadow of opulence that has the heat crawling along your flushed skin. ‘I thought you’d be going to see a girl that’s all.’

He raises an eyebrow, a twitch of his mouth that you try not to linger on, full and pink lips glistening with a thin sheen of whisky, the translucent shine of them that you think tastes of sugar and vanilla, honey and warm coffee. 

He shifts, lifts his hips to adjust his dress pants and your eyes fall, unashamedly, on the prominent bulge half hidden by the darkness, a single shaft of copper light dancing on his thigh, and you can’t help it, the way your teeth bite at your lip hard enough to hurt, a blinding flash of pain and arousal that pools in your tummy. You hate it, the betrayal of your body that comes so easily, the fold of your veins and control that comes from a few simple actions, the dance of your heart against your ribs.

‘Would it matter if I was?’ he says and leans back, the amber swirling along the crystal of the glass, raising it to his lips where the warmth of his breath mists against the surface, the imprint of his perfect lips now flecked with the heady taste of whisky, the ice clinking at the bottom of the tumbler.

Your eyebrows shoot up on instinct, the flush of embarrassment, spreading along your exposed cleavage, where Izana’s eyes drift lazily before flitting back to the pert mouth where your faded red lipstick still sits. ‘N-no, obviously not, I mean yes- no- I’m not sure.’ 

‘Hm? That makes no sense. So which is it?’

Your heart thrums against your ribs, an embarrassment so loud you’re convinced he can hear the ringing in your ears, the thin and tinny pressure that has red blooming across the nape of your neck. ‘I- I only mean…’ Your tongue is too heavy for your mouth, a weight that has the words drying on your whisky-flecked lips. ‘...that, if you went to see a girl, you’d be allowed, and it would be your right.’

He hums, a slow roll of his neck, where the sharp angles of his clavicles slip into view, the golden sand of his skin now catching the copper glow filtering through the window and you squeeze your thighs together in some attempt to subtly relieve the ache slowly building there. 

‘So, you wouldn’t be jealous?’ he says and spreads his legs wider, his arms moving to rest on the back of the sofa, the faint warmth in his chest now simmering with a growing heat.

‘Should I be? Is that what you want?’

‘Maybe. But why would you get jealous? Don’t you have the others to give you the attention you want?’

You burn at the tone, the teasing lilt and airy whisper that melts against your skin, the silhouette of him with the rain-dashed window slicing across the pristine and pressed white shirt now unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled to the elbow.

Your tongue aches when you lift it to run over your teeth. Faintly, in some recess of your head, you hear a door slam, undulated by the thwack of the rain on the window, the occasional click of shoes on linoleum and the screech of tires beyond the 19th floor window and it’s so far away, so quiet when you’re here so high up and the ringing in your ears has a constant hammer to your skull.

You lick your lips and his eyes flick to your tongue peeking out. ‘That’s true but, what if it’s not their attention I want so much?’

‘Oh? And whose attention do you want?’

You bite the inside of your cheek, uncross your legs and cut your eyes to the decanter on the table, the empty glass still poised between two lithe fingers and there is a beat, a long and draining silence that swallows the air between you while you let it drift and hang, your eyes flitting between the violet haze roaming your skin and his lips where the aftertaste of whisky lingers.

‘Here.’ You pick up the decanter and stand, using one hand to smooth down the front of your silk slip, a barely perceptible shake that you’re quick to hide as you lean over to steady his waiting glass. ‘Let me refill that for you.’

He watches, a wolf eyeing prey, a heat between his legs that has his mouth drying, uncomfortable and thick as the tension dragging through the air. 

You make to turn, the decanter set onto the table when he grabs your wrist, a tight squeeze that has your ribs closing around your heart. You turn back, a less than subtle squeeze of your thighs together, where his eyes flick from the crease in your dress, to your lips parted with the thin sheen of whisky. 

‘I don’t think you answered my question,’ he says, his voice a low hum as he strokes a slow circle onto the dip in your wrist. ‘I asked whose attention you wanted.’

Your tongue drags along the roof of your mouth, your palm clammy and curled into a loose fist, the warmth in your blood beating at your skin. ‘Yours, only yours.’ 

‘Mhm, really? I don’t think I believe you.’ His lithe fingers dance along your forearm before he pulls, harshly, a tug that has you reaching an arm out to cage him between you and the sofa. Your heart punches against your ribs. Your warm breath fans the tip of his nose, a hairdbreath from your parted lips as you gasp, your thighs now straddling and pressing him to the fabric of the sofa. 

‘It’s true, I swear,’ you whisper, your silk slip riding up towards your waist, panties now brushing the rich polyester of his dress pants. ‘I’m yours, I belong to you.’

‘Not to Ran? I’ve seen how he looks at you.’ 

You shake your head, adamantly, the shuffle of your slip matching your bated breaths. ‘Not to Ran, only to you my Izana.’

He runs his hands along your thighs, a press of his fingers into your skin, the rough pads of his thumbs tracing a line to the swell of your ass before he pulls you closer still, a slow and languid grind against his quickly hardening cock, the press of it against your clit that has your panties dampening.

‘That’s right, I own you, so are you going to let me have you?’ And he bites hard on his lip when your hands come to tangle in his hair, a harsh tug that has a quiet gasp slipping between his lips. Your mind crumbles too quickly, and you find yourself rolling your hips, a glide along his thigh, the wetness pooling in sticky warmth, your panties clinging to your skin, the patch on his charcoal dress pants now darkening with your arousal.

‘Yes, yes I- I need you,’ you gasp, sparks of pleasure rolling against your clit, and it’s too much, the ringing in your ears is too loud, the fog in your head has your eyes fluttering, the piercing violet gaze slipping and out of view. 

He groans, his grip tightening around your thighs, your soft and supple skin spilling between his fingers, silver rings that burn cold where they graze the sensitive inside of your thighs. 

‘What do you need? Tell me, I want to hear it.’

‘Please, don’t make me say it,’ you whisper, breath caught in your throat where one ringed hand slides to squeeze lightly at your neck, the faint pulse and quicken of your heartbeat sending waves of pleasure along his spine. 

‘Mhm, you have to.’ And he drums his fingers down your shoulder blades. ‘Use your words for me, you can do it.’ 

‘I need- I want- just want you to fuck me, please.’ You almost whimper at the soft sultriness of his voice hot on your ear, the warm dance of his rough fingertips along your skin, tracing a line from the curve of your breasts to your hips. He squeezes, thrusts up once, a light bump of friction against your aching clit, chuckling when you moan unabashedly at the sudden jolt. 

‘Good girl, such a good obedient girl for me aren’t you? Does it hurt?’

You nod fervently, your mouth latched to his neck, hot kisses and bites that elicit shivers along his skin. He likes this, you know as much, the tit-for-tat, the teasing and pulling at you, drawing along your pain till it satisfies him, and you’d feel angry about it if the pleasure didn’t feel so hazily sweet after.

‘It hurts, Izana please, just wanna feel you inside.’ And it does, a heavy and dizzy ache between your thighs that has you shamelessly grinding on his now drenched dress pants for the barest lick of friction. 

‘Mhm I know, you poor thing, am I being too mean by keeping this from you?’ he says and dips his head, a flick of his tongue along your exposed collarbone, the scent of your perfume lingering on your skin before he eagerly takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, bites, and slides his tongue over it, alternating between both while you tug at his hair wound tight in your fist. ‘You want me to make you cum?’

‘Please sir.’ Your breath is caught in your throat, your soaked panties clinging to you, the slick of your arousal pooling between his thighs and yours.

He almost laughs, giddy with the heat from your skin, all warmth and hot anticipation that has him lifting his hips to pull his dress pants down as you eagerly tug at his belt, your hands shaking when you fiddle with the clasps, your lips bitten raw in need. 

‘You sound so sweet when you beg like that- it almost makes me not want to let you.’

You freeze, the warmth in your blood chilling with the subtle undertone and the delicious promise  of your pleasure in his waiting palms and you keen in response, palming at his hard cock leaking pre-cum till he’s slipping your panties to the side with a loud groan against your neck. 

You’ve done this before obviously, it’s a common occurrence, him finding warmth in you, between your soft thighs, the trail of purple marks left on your neck and chest, his tongue lapping at your slick and fingers in your throat to gag on, the shaky convulsing and spasm that he controls by pinning your legs to your chest.

He kisses you, softly at first, a single moment in which he lets you hold eye contact, your dazed and watery expression where the reflection of him with his shirt pulled open and his hair in your hands peers back at him. He lets his tongue gently slide along yours, a light trace of it along the veins of the underside, a soft bite on your reddened lips, a suck on your tongue that has the saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth.

‘You’re so pretty, you know how badly I want you?’ And he teases the tip of his cock through your folds, the slick coating it in a translucent sheen. You yelp when he thrusts in one go, half of his cock slipping into your warm pussy. You grab at his shoulders for support, your eyes scrunched in partial bliss and pain. He knows you like the stretch, the burn of his cock inching its way in and it’s why he’s so tantalisingly slow with it, millimetre by millimetre, the brush of the vein on the underside pulsating warmly inside. 

You mewl and bunch his shirt in your hands, knuckles white and squeezing at the fabric, practically drooling on his shoulder as he lowers you down, your slick webbing on his thighs. 

‘It’s too much, I can’t do it, I can’t Izana,’ you say despite yourself, despite the forceful squeeze of your walls sucking him in, the delicious thrum of pain and dizzying pleasure rolling along your clit. 

‘Shhhhh, yes you can, you know you can, be a good girl and relax, you can do it,’ he says, his ragged breath fanning the nape of your neck, hands bruising at your hips in his firm grip. ‘Look at how you’re sucking me in already, my good and obedient girl.’

You hardly have time to register the praise before he pulls you firmly, with his hands held tight around your hips, flush on his cock, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs, a gasp pulled from your throat as your eyes squeeze shut. 

‘Izana!’ you tug harshly on his hair, a groan spilling past his parted lips as you adjust to his size, the electrifying zing of pain rolling with the stretch of him inside you. Your breath comes hot and fast, your chest pressed to his. He grazes his lips along your breasts, a slight bite and playful nibble on your nipples that has your pussy squeezing him further.

‘Relax, let me make you feel good.’ He sighs, a bubble between a moan and a whine as he begins a languid grind of your hips on his. 

You try to lift your hips, a bit of breathing room from the hot and heavy air, to slow him down from where his cock kisses at your cervix, the press of it that you feel inching towards your tummy and you’re biting down hard on his shoulder in the process, your broken whines pressed to his skin. It aches and he’s slow about it, a lazy drawl of him dragging through your walls, the vein zigzagging and pulsating and licking at your aching pussy. 

He pulls your thigh higher, hooks it further on his waist, and his cock presses deeper still, till you’re babbling a broken version of his name, your mascara smeared on the white lapel of his shirt. 

‘Ah- Izana, please, more, need more-’ and it comes out as a whine and a whimper, your clit brushing against the rough fabric of his pants and you moan at the friction of it, at the way he throws his head back and bounces you on his cock, all shame foregone, the chase of your pleasure that has him eagerly panting your name.

‘You’re such a-’ he pants, his eyes clouding with lust, a dip of his gaze from the bliss written across your face to the place where his cock disappears inside you, ‘a- greedy girl aren’t you? So greedy and needy, and all mine, only mine.’

‘Only- hah- yours sir.’ You’re breathless, the air stifling hot, warm with the scent of perfume, sweat and sex, your hands finding purchase in his shirt now pulled entirely open, his hair now messy and curling around his ears. 

‘Sh-shit, oh fuck- you feel so good around me, so fuckin’ perfect-’ a drawl almost, his head thrown entirely back, the languid and lazy grind of his cock now picking up speed, a ruthless thrust that has your voice breaking, grasping at him, the flexed and taut arms that keep you pressed to his chest.

‘You’re too deep ‘zana!’ And in your delirious haze, you’re minutely aware of the wet slap of skin on skin, the renewed effort to keep him inside despite the pooling of your slick soaking down to the sofa, and it’s all so wet, so dirty, that you almost don’t notice how he pulls your hair back by the root, the silver rings grazing your neck till he presses his lips to yours and swallows the moan now rolling along his tongue. He bites you hard, a yelp that has your clit pulsing and your legs tightening, and his groan is breathy, high pitched,

‘You’ll take it like my good girl won’t you?’ You’re doing so well f’me.’

‘Zana! Please- please- just like that-’ You rake your nails along his back, a scratch against his spine that has him arching off the sofa, pushing further into you, his thrusts forceful and rough, the air blown from your lungs, the shaky and dizzying gasps along the shell of his ear. 

‘I know, I know, you’re so pretty like this- never letting them have you, you belong to me,’ he says and punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, your breasts bouncing and a hand coming up to stroke the curve of your spine under your dress. You shiver, a mewl and a whine as your orgasm creeps along your nerves, your clit pulsing and tingling, the drag and graze of his cock kissing at your cervix and your mind reels, the pounding in your ears so intense it drowns out the dirty squelch of your hips meeting in every harsh thrust.

‘Feels good-feels so good- don’t stop ‘zana,’ you say, pressing your nails into his skin, and in your daze, grabbing at his face to press a kiss to his bitten lips, your saliva smeared all over his chin, pooling in your mouth as your tongue sucks at his, a kiss that’s all teeth and high pitched whimpers that he captures with his lips latched firmly on yours. You see your saliva dribbling down his chin, shiny pearlescent tears streaked onto your cheeks, black caked mascara on his neck from where you’ve eagerly pressed your skin to his.

‘Say it,’ he says, his hand around your throat squeezing in time with your racing heart, a loud punch against your ribs. ‘Tell me you love me and I’ll let you cum. Tell me I’m the only one.’

‘You are!’ you fervently nod, clutching his shirt, the bounce and slap of your hips against his creating a messy and slick squelch. ‘I love you- I love you- I love you,’ you say, eager to chase the sweet and delicious high now teetering before your eyes. 

‘Louder.’ He grabs your hips, grinds his cock back and forth, dragging it along your slick walls, a shaky hand snaking between the wet and warm mess of your bodies to rub smooth circles over your puffy clit. ‘Want to hear you scream it, or I won’t let you cum.’ 

You whimper into his shoulder, your hoarse and tired voice choking out the words muffled by the now decorated skin of his neck. ‘I’m yours! I belong to you, only you- please let me cum ‘zana.’ You don’t think of the possible embarrassment of being heard, the assistants running to and fro in the corridors hearing you moan so loud it has your neck flaring with heat, or that your faded lipstick is pressed to his collar, your sticky arousal pooling on his thighs, the indent of his fingers pressed into your hips.

‘Do you deserve to cum? Tell me,’ he says, the squeeze of your walls around his cock making his head spin, a delirious and dizzying rush of blood in his ears and you hate him, a ferocity of such loathing that has you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, shameless and broken moans spilling past your parted lips.

You’re minutely away of the brush of your dress hiked to your waist now clinging to your sweat-slicked skin, the shimmering black now folded in creases from where his hands have bunched it in his eager grasp and you gasp when his cock grazes your cervix just right, messy and wet enough to have him slipping out from where his thumb presses to your tingling clit.

‘I deserve- I deserve it- I’ll never misbehave sir- I’ll do anything, just let me cum, please.’ And you rock against him in selfish need, pushing yourself further against him on the sofa, hoping to chase your orgasm into peaceful bliss.

He groans, latching his mouth to your neck and biting hard, the tug on your hair baring your clavicle for him where he lets his teeth graze your sweaty perfumed skin. ‘Good girl, that’s what I like to hear, you sound so pretty like that.’ He thrusts messily, once, twice, his thumb rubbing tighter circles on your clit. ‘Go ahead and cum for me, all over my cock, let me feel you.’ 

It’s messier still, wet and gushing all over his abdomen, soaking into the fine hairs of his navel when you do cum, all translucent pearly arousal slickening his thighs, you rocking your hips to ride out the high and smearing it further, your body slackening, the hand around your throat squeezing enough to have your mind numbing and falling apart. 

‘Izana, sir…’ Your parted mouth sighing and whimpering his name as the bliss washes over you, heavy and thick enough to have your eyes fluttering against his neck before he languidly aims a punchy thrust, his cock twitching against your pulsing walls.

‘There you go, that’s a good girl, I’ve got you- you going to take my cum now? Let me breed you like the good girl you are?’ he says and stills your hips, an arch to his back as he sucks in a heavy and choked breath, the squeeze of you wrapped around his cock that has his hands shaking on your hips.

‘Mhm, want you to fill me up ‘zana, I’m all yours.’ And you press further against him, into the sofa, the rough fabric against your thighs eliciting a shiver that runs across your spine.

‘Sh-shit, That’s right- all mine, gonna give you a baby and make you mine forever,’ he moans and his hips jerk, a strong and sloppy thrust against the ache inside you before he spills entirely, thick and warm rivulets of heavy cum now seeping between your legs, the soft skin of your thighs coated in a shiny white sheen. 

He rides out the high, a punctuated grind that has your clit tingling with the friction, your name falling from his lips in divinity, in a soft and breathy whisper, hoarse whine bubbling at the back of his throat as his features settle into bliss, peaceful pleasure that has his lashes shivering against his cheek. 

You come down together, a moment of brief quiet, the air permeated with the lingering aftertaste of sweat and perfume, warm and cloistered, the rain beating on the windowpane, gentle lashings of ice and wind that have the trees creaking beyond the glass.

He runs a hand along your spine, you sitting still there with your head resting on the apex of his chest, smooth and littered with bites and broken capillaries under the skin, a garden of blooming reds and pinks and purples that’ll fade to a violet hue by morning, the thin sheen of sweat curling his white hair at the back of his neck, sticky and plastered to his nape. 

There is little talking in these moments, just the faint and steady breaths taken in time with the other, the rhythm of his heart beating wildly against your cheek and you, gathered in his arms while the ringing in your ears subsides, a tick-tock of the wall clock and the peaceful transient bliss pervading the space between your breaths, soft sighs and shy smiles that you’re eager to hide against the swell of his shoulder.

He clears his throat, a circle traced across the fine bones in your spine. ‘Are you okay? Was it…good?’ he says, the veil of his barrier broken for the moment, the shaky timbre of his voice that has your heart aching, resting gently in his palms where it has since the day you’d met, and you’d first tasted him all those months ago, sweet and honeyed and full of promise.

You lift a hand to touch at his cheek, the back of one shaky finger following the proud and pronounced arc of his cheekbones, his straight nose, the bloom of his full and pink lips now bitten down by the both of you. ‘It was good, Izana sir, really good.’ 

‘You’re….happy? It didn’t hurt?’

‘I’m happy and no it didn’t hurt.’ You pause. ‘Well, not in any way I didn’t like.’ And your thumb catches on his lips, a kiss pressed to the indent of your wrist, the veins jumping under the warmth of his talented mouth, a heat flaring across your skin now hidden by the moon sprinting behind the clouds. 

You stay like that for a while, the rain beating against the window, so high up and far, away from the Haitanis slipping into a car on the road, the screech of tires half hidden by the heavy pounding of thunder booming across the sky.

‘Think he’s gonna tell her soon?’ Rindou says and spares a glance at the window of your office, far away from prying eyes, the darkened interior illuminated only by the patch of moonlight where your open laptop sits faded to black.

‘Mhm, maybe. But you know how he is, he thinks no one can tell he’s in love with her.’ Kakucho says and stubs out a cigarette against the top of a street bin, the rain dashing against the bonnet of the car.

‘Anyone could, especially after all those gifts, he’s not really as subtle as he pretends to be.’ This from Ran who leans languidly back against the drivers seat while the others crush their half-finished cigarettes and throw them haphazardly into the trash, the single slice of moonlight falling from your window leaving only the darkness of the night to swallow up the interior. 

‘Yeah well, don’t let him hear you saying that, he’s trying in whatever way he knows. Only reason he hasn’t told her is because he thinks she’s going to reject him.’ Kakucho pulls open the passenger door and slips in, the collar of his black coat now frigid with cold. Rindou stretches his legs out behind them, pulling his door shut against the biting wind nipping at his cheeks, a shiver breaking out across his skin.

‘I guess you’re right. I wonder if she knows they’re from him.’ Ran says and revs the engine of the car, a sound you minutely hear under the layers of rain and wind whipping at the window, the two of you settled for the moment, a weak and watery peace you know can never last, that can only survive till morning, where you know that you’ll slip into the title of employee once more, where he is cold and far away, warmed only by the slightest touch of your knuckles to his as you pass in the corridor, strangers again till the night comes.

…That and you expect to find a new gift on your desk when morning comes too.

You’ve always known a little more than you let on haven’t you?

a/n: hi everyone (god I'm nervous), this was a submission for @sleepysnk sugar daddy collab (of which you can find here, i'm sorry I am so late, i've been very busy between working and finding a new job but I hope you like it anyway) as always, feedback is welcome but pls be nice and constructive about it. (I'm embarrassed enough just to leave my digital footprint here like this lmao) I love u all x

nsfw taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added) @blackfire2013 @haitaniapologist @nikokopuffs @mochimiyaas @mingodaddy @longlivebaji @sin-and-punishment @keiskyutie @bertholdts--butt @tetsutits

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #kurokawa izana

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 5.12 - Three Bridges review

Little bit late this week because I had trouble finding the ep and well this new mid-week airing time, it's at a pretty inconvenient time of the week for me.

Anyways...

The promo for this episode was misleading as (when is it not) but in this case it was a really good misleading. We did get funny sting-ray case but that was just a side plot for laughs.

And for me it worked so well because it gave us more Miggy scenes and man, do I love how they're doing Magnum and Higgins as a couple now. It's established, comfortable but still sweet with that hint of sexy they always had and IDK, why can't we just have 10 seasons more of this?

The Case

Seems like a semi-straightforward "trusted the wrong person and got my money stolen" case. But this being Magnum PI, there is of course a huge trafficking ring behind it and the bad guy is actually a good guy and everyone (except for the Triad) gets a happy ending. (Brushing over the trauma of trafficking and being used as a human sheild at and also sort of betrayal of trust and stealing lots of money from people, and all that jazz. Because goodness will win out and happiness reign supreme -that's just how we roll in Magnum PI land.)

I liked it, even if finding the hotel (which granted took the combined power of Kumu and Higgy) and then just getting walked straight into the heart of the Evil Overlords organization was a bit convenient. Like if I was a boss bad-guy I would have just told my underlings to walk potential spies and cops and other interested parties off the property. And then just moved my operation.

Just saying, a bit sloppy for a 97-million-dollar operation...

The end bit with findning Haun (Han?) after he'd been sold off again, maybe that should have ended sadder or more dramatic. Like Haun could at least have gotten shot in the arm or something... just a little suggestion.

Or Higgy should have gotten shot because she was just walking straight into the path of this guy's bullets...

The Miggy

What took you so long?

I was about to ask you the same thing.

They are so adorable and just maybe the ultimate modern battle couple of all time.

Seriously was there one Miggy moment when the banter was not on point?

"Get where it's going and intercept it!"

Side note: does someone on this show have like a drowning kink? I feel like waterboarding is the to-go torture method of choice for all bad guys. I mean Nuzo was water-boarded before he died, Higgy was, then she almost drowned and now we got TM getting all drown-y.

And love the look Magnum gives the guy when the bad guy is all "This ain't gonna work - go get his friend". Like from mildly smug (above) because hey, Mr. Navy Seal "I can hold my breath for five minutes" isn't worried about anything to 'not amused' in like a second.

(I mean of course Higgy being all kick-ass going to get her Hubby, also lovely.)

TC - Sometimes you just need your mom

So TC pushing everyone away after last week when he seemed to be opening up and doing a bit better with Shammy and Kumu felt like a step back, but also very real. Because rehab and progress is not linear nor does it "make sense" for most people in a logical way.

Mommy-TC showing up and both showing him that she not leaving because she loves him and wants to be there for him and talking to him about weakness and stubbornness, was the right play. Because when life sucks sometimes you just need your mom right?

It's also a nice call back to last "season" which they've been so good at during season 5. Like with Higgy and the Mandarin and just little references to stuff (still waiting on the tattoo though...)

Rick and Love

So I guess Piper was only in the picture to push Rick and Suzy together then? Maybe? I kind of hope she sticks around and has some other nefarious purpose. But if she's not in the next episode or 14, I guess she was just there to get the Suzy/Rick ship to sail.

Which, I mean, we did all want that and it is sooo very cute and I'd want to see happy-family feels! Let Suzy or Rick have a birthday and we can end with a surprise party or something this season (and bring a real baby this time).

Overall + I'm on a break next week

I enjoyed this episode so much, possibly a bit more than last week's ep even, and I'm a bit annoyed with myself it took me like 4 days until I could watch it. I guess, part of why I postponing watching is because each week means one episode closer to the last one. Urg, why did they end our show!!! It's such a freaking shame because it absolutely feels like they've found their groove with the Miggy relationship and just the whole vibe of 5a and so far 5b!

Next week I'll be traveling so I might not be able to get access to the episode at all before I return home, which sucks because it's my favorite plot-device: my faves going undercover.

But yeah, 13+14 might end up being a double episode for me (+ double review!) in two weeks but we shall see!

#magnum pi #miggy #Thomas Magnum #Juliet Higgins #Magnum PI season 5 #Magnum Pi my review #Magnum PI review

[reddeadreference]

Horseshoe Overlook: The Spines of America

Full Transcript below ([...] placed where a gap of silence is for the same person speaking or when there’s a long period of silence and distance traveled.)   

[The video starts with getting the mission]

Susan: Mr. Morgan

Arthur: Yes. Miss Grimshaw?

Susan: Mr. Matthews gave me a message for you, he said when it was convenient to head into Emerald Ranch. He’s looking at a few business things there.

Arthur: Okay.

Susan:  Oh, he’ll find something, too, he always does. Well, you be well now, Mr. Morgan.

Arthur: I’m always well, Miss Grimshaw.

[Video cuts to Arthur riding up to Emerald Ranch. [Hosea and Seamus are sitting outside a barn when Arthur walks up to them.]

Hosea: That’s an interesting way of putting it, Seamus.

Seamus: Oh no doubt, I do interesting very well. It’s trusting I don’t do so well.

Hosea: Please… I know how to work with good people, Seamus, and I work in the right way.

Seamus: Well, they all say that… I never met an idiot that called himself one.

Hosea: Very true… in that case, I’m an idiot. But… I know how to get things done efficiently. Look at me, why would I lie about this?

[Arthur approaches]

Hosea: Arthur. This is Seamus… he’s our new partner.

Seamus: I ain’t no such thing.

Hosea: Prospective new partner if he likes us.

Seamus: Liking ain’t the problem… trusting is, as I said. Keep your voices down… I don’t want my boss hearing. This is a side line.

Hosea: Course. Look at us, honest as the day is long.

Seamus: Exactly.

Hosea: I tell you what, let us prove ourselves.

Arthur: Prove ourselves? To this clown? What you talking about?

Seamus: Good day, Hosea, good luck with your business dealings.

Hosea: Listen, he’s rough and ready and quick with his tongue, but I swear, you can trust him, and trust me.

Seamus: I’m an old man.

Hosea: You’re not old, Seamus.

Seamus: I’m old enough… and you know why I ain’t dead?

Hosea: You don’t trust idiots.

Seamus: Exactly.

Hosea: We’re not idiots… let us prove it to you.

Seamus: Okay… I tell you what…

Hosea: (motioning to Arthur, who has sat down, to come over) Arthur!

Seamus: Old Bob Crawford and his boys… just bought a beautiful stolen stage coach from upstate. It’s in their barn. Now you go get that… and then we can work together.

Hosea: Who’s old Bob Crawford?

Seamus: An acquaintance of mine.

Hosea: So you want us to take out your competition?

Seamus: Well, he-he’s not just an acquaintance but a cousin… by marriage. I also want to see if you boys got what it takes. Now, you survive that…

Hosea: Where is he?

Seamus: He’s in a farmhouse just northwest of here, called Carmody Dell. It’s just up the train tracks as you’re heading up towards Fort Wallace. There’s also some money in that house, but that’s your business, not mine, but don’t kill nobody. Folks know we ain’t intimate no more and they’ll know it was me.

Hosea: But, you’re fine with us robbing your cousin?

Seamus: By marriage… and yes, I’d love it.

Hosea: You heard the man, let’s go rob his cousin.

Seamus: By marriage.

[They get on their horses.]

Arthur: Really?

Hosea: Really. Lead the way. He said the place is just northwest of here.

Arthur: Me?

Hosea: You’re the one who’s been out gallivanting around here.

Arthur: That’s what you call it. Clearly you’ve recovered from your bear encounter.

Hosea: Could have played that better, couldn’t you?

Arthur: Thought you wanted me here to show some strong arm? That’s usually how it goes.

Hosea: Yes, but… you know how this works.

Arthur: C’mon, Hosea. That feller’s a joke.

Hosea: And that’s why he’s perfect. He won’t cause us any problems. A safe spot to fence wagons and coaches, that’s easy money for us.

Arthur: I guess you’re right.

Hosea: Come on, it’s not like he’s asking us to rob a bank. If the two of us can’t steal a stagecoach from Seamus’ old crooked cousin by marriage, we should hang up our hats now.

=Emerald Ranch?=

Arthur: So what’s the story with that Emerald Ranch? You find out anything else?

Hosea: A little. Owner’s a nasty type, by all accounts. Seamus is sure scared of him.

Arthur: That’s not saying much.

Hosea: Something strange about the place. Used to be a saloon there, general store. Now it’s all closed up, but they seem to have money.

Arthur: Sounds worth a look around.

Hosea: For sure… Seamus also mentioned the rancher’s daughter a couple of times, how he used to see her around all the time but now she never leaves the house. Probably just sweet on her.

Arthur: That what you call finding out a little?

Hosea: Once he opens up, seems Seamus does like to talk.

Arthur: Hopefully not too much.

=How are you feeling about things?=

Arthur: How you feeling about things now?

Hosea: What things?

Arthur: This place, the gang… been here a few weeks now.

Hosea: Good, I think. Better.

Arthur: I figured more folks would have cut and run on us, given everything that happened.

Hosea: Like Dutch always says, a lone wolf don’t last long out on the plains.

Arthur: He does like to trot that one out.

Hosea: People see that, especially when they get a few years on them. Even someone like Micah. 

Arthur: There’s a couple of folks, I wish, had cut and run.

Hosea: Maybe they’d say the same about you.

|

[The two ride until they see the house]

Hosea: That must be the place up ahead. We should go on foot from here. Let's see what we’re dealing with, come on. [...] There’s the house. I see the barn in the back, stagecoach has to be in there. [...] Okay, let’s take a quick look at the place…

=Night=

Arthur: See anyone?

Hosea: Nope. Okay… I reckon we can do it now. Sneak in, I’ll get the coach, you can try the house. Or… wait until morning, when I’ll head over… distract them by putting on a little show… while you sneak into the house, find what you can, and… then get the stagecoach. What do you think?

=Night wait for Day=

Arthur: Let’s wait.

[The next morning]

Hosea: Okay… let’s get on with this, Mr. Morgan.

Arthur: Yes.

Hosea: Let me head up there and make a fool of myself.

Arthur: With pleasure.

Hosea: Just don’t get caught… because it’s me they’ll shoot first.

=Day wait for Night=

Hosea: Okay, let’s take a quick look at the place…

Arthur: Anyone around?

Hosea: Yes. Okay… I reckon we can do it now. I’ll head over, distract ‘em by putting on a little show while you sneak into the house, find what you can… then get the stagecoach. Or… wait until nightfall. Sneak in, then I’ll get the coach. You can try the house. What do you think?

Arthur: Let’s wait.

[Night falls]

Hosea: Okay, let’s go.

Arthur: Sure.

Hosea: You go into the house… I’ll go find this wagon.

|

=Day=

(not shown in video but if it’s day and you pick day they say the following two lines)

Arthur: Let’s do it now.

Hosea: Sure. Alright then… don’t follow me. 

[Hosea walks towards the house.]

Hosea: Wait until I have them distracted outside, then sneak into the house.

=Hosea’s Full Distraction=

[He goes to the house to distract its inhabitants. Arthur, meanwhile, is robbing everything that he can find.]

Hosea: My good man… my good young man. Fair thee well! Fair thee well. (chuckles) Is your father home, son?

Junior: Sure is.

Hosea: Get him down here, please, get him down here.

Junior: Get lost, mister.

Hosea: I was lost! For many years, I was lost. Many years. Now I’m not. You know what? [Crawford walks out] Oh, here he is, are you the father of the house?

Crawford: Sure.

Hosea: Pleasure to meet you. I was just chatting with junior here a bit.

Crawford: You selling something, partner?

I’m not selling, I’m giving it away! (CHECK THIS) I was just telling, uh… uh, y-your, junior, what’s your name son?

Junior: Robert Crawford the third, sir. 

Hosea: The… oh?

Hosea: Pleasure to meet you. Both of yous, uh… My name… my name is… now don’t… tell no one because in New York, I’m kind of famous. I once preformed on Broadway… now that’s not important or relevant, I have been saved! I have been found! Oh, no I-I-I saw it in your eyes. You think I’m a nut! Do you think I’m a nut, Bob Crawford the Third?

Junior: I ain’t interested in no religious talk.

Hosea: I’m not a religious man. Respects them as has it, but I got something better. Way better than church. And twice as useful. Free! Spinal… alignment.

Crawford: What?

Hosea: Spinal… alignment! The Lord God Almighty, or who, whomever built us, put our brains in here but our souls is in our backs. You sir, y-your back looks kind of tricky and complicated. 

Crawford: Sure.

Hosea: I can fix that for you. Just ten or, fifteen sessions.

Crawford: Whiskey suits me fine sir.

Hosea: Whiskey? It’s whiskey is, is causing the problems! [...] You ever meet a Scot who didn’t hobble in old age? But the English stand tall, sir… Gin! They drink gin. And what is gin made with? Junipers… And what does the juniper do? Creates movement in the spine… Whereas your whiskey, made with grain as it is, leaves the spine brittle. Hence your hobbling Jock. Please… lay down here a little. It won’t take long. [...]  I was worse than you, sir. I was broken… 

(NOTE: In the video the second angle made the distraction shorter somehow so I went back and got the other bad angle for the rest of the distraction.

Hosea: Look at me now… I dance every night. Women adore me. I got the magic. Seriously, it’s all about the spine. We think our brains is in our heads, but they are in our backs too. Ooh… I can tell you’re a very wise man, but the troubles, they’re killing you…

Crawford: That’s the spot.

Hosea: Oh, I… I know it is… Gimme a minute, sir… you’ll have women again. Women and song and dancing… and dancing, do you like dancing?

Crawford: I’ve never been a dancing man, no.

Hosea: Well, that explains everything… that explains it! Uh, give me a minute, sir! Don’t let those troubles kill ya! Is that better? Just a bit?

Crawford: Yeah… yeah, it’s a… it’s a little bit better!

Hosea: This session has been free but perhaps, I might call again?

Crawford: How much’ll it cost me?

Hosea: I’m offering you virility and you’re asking me about money, sir?

Crawford: I ain’t made of money, mister…

Hosea: My rates are reasonable… have a think about it. I’ll be around this way next week. Goodbye, gentlemen!

|

[Video cuts back to Arthur robbing the house with the distraction in the back a few moments after Crawford leaves the house. Arthur leaves a chest open.]

[Video cuts to Hosea getting to the barn first]

Hosea: Get on, dear boy.

=Chest was left open=

Junior: (runs out of the house) Pa, pa… pa, there’s a problem. Pa, there’s a problem. My chest was robbed!

Crawford: (walks out to see the two on the stagecoach) You bastards, you bastards! Junior, get the gun!

Hosea: Damn it, they’re onto us! [...] Damn it, Arthur, you should have been more careful.

Arthur: Yeah, sorry, I must have left a chest open.

=Found chimney stash=

Hosea: So what were you able to lift from the house?

Arthur: Found some money stashed away. Must be a few hundred. Not too bad.

Hosea: Not bad at all.

=Day - Don’t make it into the house=

Hosea: You done? Anything good in there?

Arthur: Er, I didn’t actually make it inside in the end, was too busy watching your show.

Hosea: Christ, Arthur. Well too late now, let’s just grab the stagecoach and go then. (unsubtitled)  Come on, let’s get this thing moving!

=Exit back of house=

(If you go through the front entrance Crawford will see you)

Hosea: (unsubtitled)  I think we’re going the wrong way here [...] Nicely done, we got everything we needed.

Arthur: And I’m pretty sure they never even knew I was there

Hosea: Best way, less problems the better right now. Just need to get back to Seamus in one piece and it’s a good day’s work.

=Day - robbed $0=

Hosea: So what were you able to lift from the house?

Arthur: Er, I didn’t actually make it inside in the end, was too busy watching your show.

Hosea: What? I was supposed to be distracting them, not you!

Arthur: What can I say? You ain’t lost it yet.

=Night=

Hosea: Maybe take a peek through the windows before you go in, make sure it’s all quiet.

[The video then fast forwards through Arthur robbing the house]

Hosea: Get on, dear boy.

=Night - Threaten Bob Crawford=

[Arthur puts a knife to a sleeping Bob Crawford’s throat then covers his mouth with his other hand]

Arthur: Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh… (he removes his hand when Crawford stops making noise) Now where’s the money?

Crawford: Ain’t got no money, mister.

[Arthur punches him]

Arthur: Now somehow I don’t believe you. Where is it?

Crawford: In the chimney.

[Arthur knocks Crawford out]

=Night - Seen/Threatened Bob Crawford]

Hosea: Nicely done, we got everything we needed.

Arthur: One of them spotted me, but he ain’t going nowhere for a while.

Hosea: Dammit, Arthur. Okay, well, let’s just get back to Emerald Ranch and finish things up.

=Night - Didn’t loot the chimney=

Hosea: So what were you able to lift from the house?

Arthur: A few bits and pieces, nothing too fancy.

Hosea: Well we need anything we can get right now.

|

(NOTE: The video says “=Night - Didn’t loot the chimney=” but it’s not supposed to and I had already deleted all the video stuff for it so I couldn’t fix it)

Arthur: This was easier than hunting a thousand-pound grizzly anyway.

Hosea: No doubt. I won’t forget that in a hurry.

Arthur: I’m looking forward to your retelling of that one around the campfire.

Hosea: "It wasn’t the first time Mr. Matthews had stared death in the eye, and as usual he did not flinch".

Arthur: Exactly. So how long you think we’re gonna stick around here for?

Hosea: Not sure. Until we can’t, I suppose. Feels like we’re starting to get back on our feet, slowly but surely. Just need to keep at it. Okay, here we are. Just pull the coach into the barn there. Hello, Seamus… we met your cousins.

Seamus: How was it?

Hosea: Fine… nice people.

Seamus: Park that thing in here… quickly. Nice work, Hosea.

Hosea: It was mostly Arthur. Like I said, coarse, but competent.

[Seamus pays for the robbery.]

Seamus: Here.

Hosea: Thank you.

Seamus: If you find any other coaches that need selling… I’ll see what I can offer you for them. But discreet, you know?

Hosea: Of course.

Seamus: Goodbye, gentlemen.

Hosea: I’m heading back to camp, I think. You coming?

=Don’t go back to camp with Hosea=

Arthur: No, I’ll catch up with you later.

Hosea: Okay, stay out of trouble.

=Go back to camp with Hosea=

Arthur: Sure.

[The two ride off and return to camp, video continues to play just to show there’s no other dialogue]

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 transcript #arthur morgan #hosea mathews

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Absentee

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Y/N fell in love with Jason Todd, she didn’t realize the normalcy she lost would become such a problem in their relationship. And she didn’t know how much pain it would cause to hide her boyfriend’s secrets. 

Word Count: 4,600 – One Shot

A/N: This is probably a really personal story. And you all might hate it or not relate to it. But oh well...

Y/N had her music playing in her headphones just quietly enough so she could hear them announce when her plane was boarding.

Between corporate holidays and what was left of her vacation days for the year, she was able to go home for a week and a half.

Only, she was hoping that this year she wouldn’t be going home alone.

But when Jason got sucked into a case two weeks before their flight back to her hometown, she knew there was no way he’d be accompanying her.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just–“ Jason had tried to tell her when she realized they weren’t going to be spending the holidays together.

“You don’t have to apologize. There are more important things right now than meeting my crazy family,” Y/N laughed lightly. “But they’ll be bummed.”

Jason still looked so down guiltily. He knew that Y/N had been downplaying how excited she was for her family to meet him.

Yeah, Y/N was upset, but her family was even more upset. Being in a different part of the country and them never putting in the effort to visit her, they had yet to meet Jason. Even when the two of them had been dating for 10 months.

Y/N had met all of Jason’s brothers, along with Bruce and Alfred. It had all been against his will, his family strategically running into them or invading his apartment when they knew Y/N would be there. Jason acted annoyed by it, but Y/N knew he was happy for her to meet them and without him having to act like he cared.

But Jason had only ever waved on FaceTime to her family or sometimes answered calls from them when Y/N left her phone next to him and went to another room.

It wasn’t like Y/N needed her family’s approval. She knew what she wanted and what was best for her. Their opinions didn’t hold as much weight with her as they thought.

But Y/N also had never introduced her family to a boyfriend before. Things either fizzled out before then or the relationship was so casual that the thought of even mentioning a boy-toy’s name in passing to her family made her want to jump out a window.

———

“So Jason couldn’t get out of work last minute?” Y/N’s older sister, Kate, asked as they drove to her house after picking her up from arrivals.

And so it began.

“No,” Y/N answered. “His boss is sort of an asshole. He’s a workaholic and can’t fathom why anyone else would ever be anything different.”

The truth was that Jason didn’t really have a job. When it came to income, Jason was resourceful. He was still a hitman for hire. But once the killing part of that job stopped – which was long before Y/N ever met him – it didn’t rake in as much money. Most of his money was either stolen from criminals or he would work odd jobs here and there.

However, the lie Jason and Y/N had agreed on was that he was a mechanic. And Jason did know absolutely everything there was to know about cars and motorcycles. He’d even promised Y/N that if she ever decided she wanted him to drop the vigilante life, he would do just that and start his own mechanic shop. But Y/N knew better than to ever ask that of him.

“Cars don’t stop breaking – even around the holidays,” Y/N joked darkly.

“Mhmm,” her sister answered.

Y/N already knew what her family thought of her boyfriend’s “job”: it wasn’t good enough for them.

The only reason they let it slide was because they knew Bruce Wayne was his adoptive father. Therefore they interpreted Jason’s ‘lack of ambition’ as his personal rebellion against his privilege and upbringing.

“Mom said he sent flowers and a bottle of wine to the house today and apologized for not being able to make it,” Kate added.

Y/N quickly looked at her in surprise.

“So I’m guessing from your reaction that it wasn’t your idea,” Kate teased.

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “He didn’t even tell me he did that.”

That was a Bruce Wayne move for sure. It didn’t matter that Jason had a rocky relationship with him, the Wayne charm and manners were deceivingly contagious.

————

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and Y/N decided to finally unpack. And she was surprised to find two of Jason’s t-shirts hidden in her bag. They were her favorites of his, always stealing them. Mostly she wore them to lounge around the apartment or to wear to bed. But her favoritism was in no way hidden.

Jason must’ve snuck them in her bag while she wasn’t looking.

Y/N smiled as she grabbed one of the shirts and raised it to her nose. It still smelled like him.

It was enough to make her feel guilty for not having called him yet. She’d texted him that she landed, but other than that, she’d been pretty silent.

She grabbed her cell and dialed.

“Hey, you.”

He always answered her calls as if they made his day, even if she’d called him multiple times that day already. His reaction to her calls never failed to make Y/N smile.

“I didn’t really expect you to pick up,” Y/N admitted.

“Always got time for you,” he answered lightly.

But then she heard background noise: wind blowing, distant sirens, people shouting at each other nearby.

Jason was on patrol. Or maybe he was doing some recon. 

But Y/N knew not to ask. 

“I see some of your clothes made the trip,” Y/N commented through a smile. Jason could hear the smile in her voice. “Those t-shirts have a mind of their own…”

“And my mom thought the flowers and card were sweet,” she added.

“I might not have met her yet, but I know that’s not gonna be enough to win her over,” Jason answered darkly.

Y/N didn’t say anything, because they both knew he was right.

“Flight was fine?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

“Mhmm.”

“I miss you.”

Y/N shook her head and laughed. “No, you don’t. I’ve been gone for like 12 hours.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always the romantic.”

More sirens could be heard. They sounded closer this time. “Are you being careful?” All playfulness had disappeared from her voice.

“Of course.”

Y/N sighed. “Jason, I’m serious. Please, be safe.”

“I know. I know. Don’t worry about me.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen, J.”

He ignored her comment. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

————————

To say Y/N’s time at home was rough…was an understatement.

If Y/N wasn’t being asked a million questions about Jason, she was being interrogated for why he wasn’t there. And if Jason wasn’t the subject of the conversation, people acted like she was single – some even talking about setting her up.

Y/N realized she preferred the former.

Every year, her family threw a giant party.

And for the past five years, Y/N had always been the only one that was single. All of her siblings, all of her cousins, all of their family friends, all of their neighbors…every single one of them had a significant other during those years. 

Everyone...except her. Now, this year, all of them had kids or were expecting.

It was exhausting. 

Sometimes Y/N felt like they were all robots programmed to do the exact same things at the exact same time –  no original thought to be had.

Y/N would be lying if she didn’t spend most of the party wishing Jason was at her side. He would make fun of awkward situations with her. And he would stick up for her when her family teased her a little too much.

The other thing Y/N wasn’t prepared for was unintentionally studying  her family’s boyfriends or husbands. She felt like she was watching everyone’s relationships through a different lens now that she herself had her own. And to put it as kindly as possible…she was not impressed.

Y/N noticed how none of the men offered to help in the kitchen, instead deciding to sit on the couch and watch football and scream at the television. Or how when her cousin handed her son to her husband, and he acted like he didn’t even know how to hold the one year old. And later, when his diaper needed to be changed, he handed him back to his wife as if he had no idea how to do it himself.

Yet her family was stuck on Jason not being able to visit or that he was a mechanic.

What did someone’s job matter if they treated her like she was their world and he the best thing to ever happen to her?

If Jason were here, he would be in the kitchen cooking. And if they had a kid, it would be a 50/50 job – not a burden only Y/N had to bare. He would try to get to know everyone because he would want to know the people who raised the woman he loved. He’d make sure to check in on Y/N every once in awhile, making sure she didn’t need anything. 

Thinking about it all made Y/N miss Jason even more.

Needing to get some air, she decided to go outside and let the winter chill refresh her. It had been getting too hot in the house.

Y/N pulled her phone out of her back pocket and tapped Jason’s name.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi,” she sighed.

Just hearing his voice made her feel a bit better and tension left her body.

“What’s wrong?” Jason quickly asked.

“Nothing. Just…wanted to check in.”

For a second, she was going to explain that she had the sudden realization that all the men connected to her family were trash. And witnessing it was making her miss him more. But she didn’t really want to waste her breath and she figured she’d just come off dramatic more than sincere.

“Are you at your apartment?” She asked quickly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave for patrol in a bit…”

Then Y/N’s mind suddenly thought, ‘Fuck it.’

“Jason?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“If you were here…” She began softly.

“Mhmm,” he encouraged.

“What would you be doing?”

Jason was a bit confused by the question for a second. But he slowly got what she was asking.

“Well,” he took in a shallow breath. “I would’ve stolen Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookie recipe and whipped up those bad boys to bring over. And I’d pretend to care about football with your dad.”

That made Y/N laugh.

“I’d help your mom in the kitchen, even when she pretended not to want it.”

“Really laying it on thick, huh?”

But Y/N knew he was right. Jason was the cook between the two of them – and a good one, too. He also was a helper. He couldn’t sit back and watch someone do something while he did nothing. No matter how big or small.

“Shhh,” Jason reprimanded and then continued. “But most importantly, I’d try to get as many embarrassing stories about you as I possibly could.”

“Well, thank goodness you’re not here then,” she teased with a roll of her eyes.

Jason was quiet a second before he asked, “Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“All my family’s boyfriends and husbands are losers. And I guess I’m just now realizing it.”

“Ahh,” Jason noted.

Now he really knew why she’d asked her question.

“It’s snowing here,” he told her as he looked out the window. “It’s almost making Gotham look pretty.”

“Are you going to the manor for Christmas?”

“Probably not,” Jason answered.

“Jason,” she grumbled. “What are you going to do instead? Sit in your apartment alone?”

“I’m gonna patrol. Crime doesn’t take holidays, Y/N.”

“Cheesy,” she pointed out. “Please be with your family, Jason. I don’t want you to be alone. OK?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Y/N knew that was as good as it was going to get.

Then she felt something on her cheek and she looked up. “Hey, it just started snowing here, too…” She told him with her head tilted back.

“I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you, too. Be careful tonight, Jason.”

Y/N gave herself a few more moments outside before returning to the party.

When she walked back inside, she immediately heard her name. But no one was calling to her. 

She was being talked about. 

She recognized her mom and sister’s voices, and then a couple of her aunts. They were talking around the corner, completely unaware that Y/N was in hearing distance.

So Y/N couldn’t help but linger.

“She says he works a lot. Every time I facetime her, he’s never there,” her sister Kate told the women. “I wouldn’t even really know what he looked like if it weren’t for her photos that she’s sent me. He doesn’t have any social media.”

“I just can’t believe he couldn’t get work off. Around the holidays?” Her mom added in utter disbelief. “Sounds like it won’t be surprising when she finds out he’s been unfaithful,” one her aunts commented.

The group hummed in agreement, but also disappointment. 

“He doesn’t even live in Metropolis. He lives in Gotham,” her mother supplied, only further backing the idea that Jason wasn’t committed. “God knows why. But I hate that Y/N is constantly going there. No good news comes from that city.”

Y/N clenched her teeth in anger.

If only they knew the truth about Jason. 

He was a hero and risked his life every night for an entire city – a city that had done nothing but hurt him. And he was 20 times the man than any of the men in their family.

She just wanted to scream at them for being so judgmental about a person they’d never even met.

But she couldn’t.

So Y/N stormed up to her childhood bedroom and decided she had enough of the party.

She shouldn’t have come home for the holidays. She would’ve rather waited for Jason to get back from his Red Hood work than listen to her family misjudge the first man she ever truly loved and wanted to share with them.

————————

Y/N was so tired when she got off the plane.

She felt like a zombie as she walked to baggage claim to grab her duffle.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find her boyfriend waiting for her in arrivals.

Y/N had told him she would just get a car.

But Jason seemed to have other ideas.

Y/N’s entire face brightened at the sight of him.

She practically ran to him and jumped into his arms.

Jason chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her words muffled by his body.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Jason said through a smile before he kissed her head.

Y/N didn’t respond, just held him tightly.

“Come on. Let’s get your bag and head home,” he finally told her.

—

“So, how was it?” Jason asked once they got into his car. Y/N shrugged, “It was fine.”

Her lack of details and curt response was enough warning for Jason to realize things were not totally fine between them.

He didn’t bother asking for more details during the car ride home. Instead, he answered all her questions about what he had been up to, how the case was going, if his family was alright.

Once they got back to Y/N’s apartment in Metropolis, the grace period seemed to be over.

Y/N had grown quiet as she moved around her apartment, unpacking and putting all her things away.

Jason walked into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed as she folded clean clothes. “This might be a shot in the dark. But I can’t help but feel that you’re not happy with me,” he finally pointed out.

She didn’t answer or look at him, just kept folding.

“Did something happen while you were at home?” Jason pushed.

She still didn’t answer. So Jason reached for her hands, holding them gently.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just didn’t expect how hard it was going to be…” she finally whispered with a bowed head.

“What would be?”

“Just going home without you,” she explained.

“Did something happening?”

“I mean, kinda? Not really. They just…” she hesitated. Did she really want to confess all of this to him? She knew it would only hurt him. "They think you’re a bad boyfriend.”

Jason just nodded slowly.

He should’ve seen this coming. Of course her family didn’t think he was good enough. How could they think anything different?

“I’m just…fucking frustrated,” Y/n groaned. “I knew what I was getting into when you told me about your other life and who you really were. I was willing to keep your secret and protect it. I just never thought about how hard it would be keeping it from my family.”

She shook her head. “They think you’re not committed or something. And that…that you’re probably cheating on me.”

The idea of him ever doing that her made Jason sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jason mumbled.

“What?” Y/N gasped. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I have,” he argued. “I put you in this position.”

“No, I did. I did when I fell in love with you,” she clarified.

“But I don’t want you lying to the people you love.”

“I’m not telling you this because I’m mad at you or blame you, Jason. I’m trying to tell you why I’m frustrated.”

She rubbed her face. “I just want them to know what an amazing person you are...and how brave and selfless. How you take care of me and love me and…and protect me.” Her eyes began to water. “They’re never gonna know the real you…even when they do meet you. And I fucking hate it.”

“So what if you told them?” Jason offered.

Her eyes widened at that. “Jason…”

“I’m serious. What if you told them?”

She thought about it. But she already knew the answer.

“It wouldn’t do any good. If I told them, then they’d be worried about me. Worried that your other life was putting me in danger. Worried that I would get pulled into it.”

Jason knew she was right.

Her family probably preferred an absentee boyfriend over a vigilante.

“But I see how the shitty men that have joined my family are. And you’re nothing like them. You’re so much better. And they’ll never even know.”

“Come here,” Jason muttered before he pulled her to him.

He let her body sink into his as he held her.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to finally been in a relationship – to just have someone on my team no matter what. I went to all those family gatherings thinking I’d never have it. And once I did, once I found you…” Her thoughts died out. “I just never expected it to be this way.”

“Do you regret it?” Jason asked as he pulled away to look in her eyes.

Her brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Being with me. Falling in love with me.”

Her heart broke at the question. “Oh, Jason. Of course not. Never.”

“What if I stopped?” He asked.

“No. I would never ask that of you,” she quickly shot down.

“I’d do it for you,” he tried to argue.

“I know you would. But I’m not asking. Because I know what it would do to you. Every time you’d see something in the news, you’d hate yourself. Because you would convince yourself that you could’ve stopped it. And maybe you would be right.” She took in a deep breath. “Red Hood isn’t just something you do. He’s a part of you. And even though I worry about you constantly, I’m never gonna tell you to stop.”

Jason took his time in reading her face.

“OK?” She pushed.

He nodded.

Then he embraced her once again.

“I’m sorry you have to keep my secrets,” he breathed into her hair.

————————————

Y/N walked into Jason’s apartment.

It was a Friday night and they agreed to have her come to his place this weekend.

Jason was always weary of her coming to Gotham, preferring her to stay in the safety of Metropolis.

He knew they couldn’t do the distance forever, and eventually they’d move into together. But he wasn’t ready to leave Gotham yet. And he didn’t want Y/N to lowering herself to such a city.

“J!” Y/N called when she walked in.

He had given her keys to his apartment quite early in their relationship, and told her she was welcome at his place any time. However, he wasn’t a fan of her getting there after dark. Gotham was Gotham, and he didn’t like her wandering around the city by herself just in order to give him a surprise visit.

An envelope on Jason’s kitchen counter caught her attention.

She nosily looked at it and saw that they were plane tickets to her hometown with both of their names on each of them.  

She heard Jason walk up behind her. “What’s this?”

“A surprise,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean?” She laughed.

“We’re gonna visit your family,” he explained casually. “I called your mom and sister to find a weekend that worked.”

Y/N was shocked to silence.

“I know I fucked up when I couldn’t go with you during the holidays. I know this isn’t gonna solve everything. But I figured…it’s start.” Before he could say more, Y/N threw her arms around him.

————

Jason Todd knew how to throw on the charm. And no matter how thick he laid it on, it always felt sincere.

Y/N smiled as she watched her boyfriend interacting with her family.

He knew so much about each of them already, that he knew exactly what to talk about with every one of them.

For their long-weekend visit, they had decided to stay with her sister.

Jason knew she would be the hardest to win over and was the most protective over Y/N. He made it his personal mission to befriend her and show her how much he loved her little sister.

Y/N never said so, but Jason knew how important it was to her that Kate approved of him.

However, Jason hadn’t been able to have a conversation alone with her all weekend.

Until their last morning there.

Y/N was still sleeping when Jason had made his way to the kitchen.

He figured he could make Kate and her husband breakfast after housing them for a long weekend. And he made sure to start a pot of coffee while he was at it.

Halfway through making his specialty waffles, Kate walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted, clearly surprised to find Jason cooking in her kitchen.

“Morning,” Jason greeted.

“This is a surprise,” she said as she looked around the kitchen.

“There’s coffee if you want some.”

“T-Thanks…” she managed to mutter. “Do you need some help?”

“Nope. I got it. You just relax.”

Kate seemed to be unsure of how to behave when she was alone with her little sister’s boyfriend, and eventually sat on the kitchen stool with her coffee.

“Do you cook a lot?” She finally broke the silence with her question.

“I enjoy it,” he answered with a shrug. “I figured it’s the least I can do for you guys putting us up.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Jason.”

He continued cooking.

Kate figured this was her opportunity to get to know Jason – and not just through Y/N’s eyes. So, she started asking him question after question, and he seemed happy to answer them. Kate was surprised to find out about Jason’s traumatic childhood, making him realize that Y/N must’ve only shared his relation to Bruce Wayne and nothing more about his life before becoming an adopted Wayne.

Jason wasn’t surprised Y/N kept that part of his life to herself. She was protective of him that way. She always felt like his past was his story to tell, not hers.

“I know missing the holidays didn’t leave the best impression,” Jason told her after they’d been talking for awhile.

“You really mean a lot to Y/N. And your opinion matters more to her than you might think,” he added as he crossed his arms.

Kate seemed a little taken aback by how unafraid he was of confrontation.

He seemed more mature for his age – maybe for hers, even.

“I know I’m not going to win any of you over from just a single trip,” Jason continued. “But I’m going to work my ass off to make sure I get there.”

Kate smiled at that.

“I love her,” he told her quietly, but with determination. “She’s…Well, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Then he smirked. “And I’m not dumb enough to do anything to fuck things up with her.”

He took in a shallow breath. “I just…I just needed you to know that.”

Kate’s heart swelled from hearing her little sister’s boyfriend confessing his love for Y/N.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered, trying to stop herself from crying. “I worry about her. And I hate that she’s so far away sometimes. I miss her.”

“She misses you, too,” Jason assured her.

“Thank you for taking care of her. I’m suddenly realizing you’re the only reason she’s eating anything that’s not out of a takeout container.”

Jason laughed. “I plead the fifth.”

Before any more could be said, Y/N walked into the kitchen as if she was sleep walking.

“Well, look who it is…” Jason teased.

Y/N walked to him silently, clearly wanting cuddles.

Jason chuckled at her, but gave her what she wanted. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He had kept the PDA at an absolute minimum while he had been around Y/N’s family. But he couldn’t help it when Y/N was her sleepy and adorable self.

“You sleep OK?” He tried to whisper to her.

But Kate still heard it and pretended to look down at her phone.

Y/N nodded into his neck, making him chuckle at her more.

This was new for Kate, seeing her sister being loved and loving someone. Her instinct was to say it made her uncomfortable. But it was just something she wasn’t used to.

Soon Kate’s husband woke up and they all ate breakfast together.

And a few hours later, Y/N and Jason were packed and their was a Lyft was waiting outside to take them to the airport.

Jason hugged Kate and her husband and thanked them for hosting them. Then he grabbed Y/N’s bags and gave her a moment alone with her sister as he took their stuff to the car.

“I think I owe the two of you an apology…” Kate told her little sister.

“You do?”

“I think I judged him a bit too much before really giving him a chance.”

Y/N winced, but nodded. “Yeah, you did, actually.”

“He really loves you.”

Y/N smiled. “He does.”

“I just want you to be happy, you know that right?”

“I know. But sometimes you think that what makes you happy is what would make me happy. Our lives are different. And we want different things. Just because my relationship looks different than yours doesn’t mean it’s worse in some way.”

Kate nodded sadly, knowing her sister was right. “I get that now.”

-----------

A/N: I was inspired to write this when I thought about how my own family would react to me having a boyfriend like Jason Todd: a man who was secretly a vigilante and had a past too hard for anyone to ever imagine. Hopefully, other people can relate to this and it wasn’t too personal. 😬

Let me know what you thought!!!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #batfam #batboys #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #jason todd fic #jason todd one shot #batman universe #jason todd #red hood #batman fandom #dc universe

[soobmint]

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.” 

-

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of  boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest. 

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together. 

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

- 

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood. 

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck. 

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure. 

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face. 

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. 

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

-

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back. 

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

#txt imagines #txt fluff #txt oneshots #moacabin #txt scenarios #txt drabbles #choi soobin #soobin drabbles #soobin oneshot #soobin fluff #soobin crack #soobin au #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #soobin txt #valentines day #80s au #txt fanfic #collab fics #stray kids #lee felix #felix lee #best friend au #ex best friend #best friend soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #hueningkai #choi yeonjun

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Summer of Whump #4: Escape

Warnings: drugging, vomit, blood

Villain's face was smacked against the roof of a "Villain Containment Practices" AKA a VCP car. He groaned and elbowed the ruthless Hero who dared to lay hands on him.

"Calm down," the unlucky Hero seethed. "Things will be easier for you."

"But not for you," Villain sassed which resulted in the hero lifting his head and smacking his nose hard.

"Will you mind?!" Villain yelled. He felt blood pouring out of his nose and draining into his mouth. Broken. He groaned, annoyed.

"Serves you right," the hero taunted close to Villain's ear. She pulled on his earlope and clicked the handcuffs into place.

The second that Villain was settled into the VCP car, he started blabbering and wiping his nose against his sleeve.

"Okay," he said between wipes. "So here's how it happened. I was literally walking home, minding my own beeswax, when this homesless guy comes up to me. Now, me? I am very clean and I like my cleanliness. So anyways, this guy comes up to me and now, he is begging for money and I'm like, 'Dude, personal space here'. I mean, of course this guy has no etiquette skills so he attacks me. Now, my wallet was in my pocket. Still is, for your information, you can find some nice cash in there. Anyways, this guy he touches my wallet and tries to grabs it- wait, guys, I shouldn't be being arrested. It was self-defense! Hey, hey!" Villain reached his hand forward and jostled one of the hero's head. "Wakey, wakey," he said. The hero turned and scowled at him.

"Did you hear me?" Villain asked. "It was self-defense."

"But, Villain, did you have to steal that guy's own wallet and hospitalize him?" The hero asked. "We know that he was doing something illegal also, but he being taken care of. So, please, shut up."

"But, but," Villain whined.

"Zip."

Villain threw himself back against the leather seats, scowling himself. This was unfair. Why couldn't he be a normal citizen without being arrested?

He placed a hand over his nose and summoned his healing powers. In a flash of painful light, the nose clicked into place.

"I thought we inhibited his powers," The driving hero mumbled to the other.

"Shoot. Pull over," the other, also known as the sassy one who broke Villain's nose (we'll call him Nosey), hopped out of the car and joined Villain in the backseat with a clipboard.

"So, Villain," Nosey said. "We are going to have to administer a power suppressor. Do you have any allergies to any drugs or medications?"

Villain glanced at Nosey with a "you serious?" expression. He then shook his head.

"Verbal confirmation."

"No you idiot," Villain snarled. "Are you blind in there." He waved a hand in front of Nosey's face.

"Cut the attitude man," Nosey warned and started to recite all of the questions in a bored tone like they have done this one too many times. Villain answered with the same montone tongue, sneering at Nosey like he was trash- which, in Villain's mind, he was.

"Okay," Nosey finished and plucked a hypodermic needle from their pocket. Villain watched suspiciously as they filled it up with a clear liquid from a small bottle. It was something actually from a pharmacy, he could tell. He reached forward and plucked the bottle out of the other's hands with a sharp, "Gimme."

Villain quickly skimmed over the words, stopping at each -zephines or -pams with a confused look on his face.

"What's in this?" Villain asked. Before Nosey replied, they jabbed the needle into Villain's neck and administered the contents.

"Hey!" Villain exclaimed, pulling the needle out. Almost immediately, he was hit by a cold sensation.

"Hey," he mumbled drowsily, his eyelids drooping. "Did-did you drug me?"

Nosey grabbed Villain's chin and forced the Villain to look at them.

"Of course, you were quite intolerable," then they reached behind them and pulled out another needle. The power suppressor.

Nosey easily emptied the drug into the vein on Villain's wrist with a satisfied smile at Villain's shock. They then unbuckled Villain and helped him lay down on the seats.

"Sweet dreams," Nosey said right before the darkness engulfed Villain.

Villain woke in a damp room, shivering out of his skin. He groggily looked around, found nothing of interest, and closed his eyes again. He vaguely recognized that the drug was still running through his system- whether it be the sedative or the suppressor, he didn't know which. He also knew that he should take advantage of the chance to rest while he had it.

That "chance to rest" actually became only five minutes. The damp coolness of the cell was replaced by a gust a warm air. Villain didn't care, or didn't realize, that Hero was standing in front of him.

He did open his eyes, however, when he heard Nosey's pipsqueak voice, "I thought he was awake."

"He is probably still drugged up," Hero said in her calm, orderly tone. "Oh there he is," she ran her fingers over Villain's cheek, checking for any type of reaction. Finding none, she stepped back and whispered something to Sidekick that Villain couldn't make out.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but being the positive guy he was, he decided on cotton candy. Make the situation a little better.

He closed his eyes again, even though Nosey and Hero were standing right there and talking about him. He picked up bits and pieces:

"Move him to a warmer cell, one with a bed," came Hero's assertive voice.

"He doesn't deserve it!" came Nosey's ear-shattering chirps of a voice.

"He is laying on the ground in a cell, hardly able to keep his head from rolling around. Make him comfortable. He needs the rest for what's about to come."

Even though Hero's voice was indeed calming, it still made Villain's heart pump faster. They were going to so something to him. He frowned weakly- hardly a frown in the hero's eyes. He didn't know why, but it sounded like they were going to do more than just hurt him.

Kill him, or maybe do tests on his healing powers.

Villain whimpered loudly which brought the heros attention. His eyes were squeezed shut, unable to look at them. A wave a fear came over him when someone's (hopefully not Nosey's) arms wrapped around him and lifted him from his spot. He squirmed, trying to break free.

"Shut up," came a sing-song voice. It made Villain freak out, kicking and panting. It was Nosey. Nosey was touching him.

"Sheesh," Nosey exclaimed at the outburst and readjusted Villain so that they (Nosey) was much more comfortable, but the newly formed position stressed Villain's limbs.

"W- w," Villain croaked. "... taking?"

"Aw look at you, so out of it and quiet. Hardly able to form a complete word," Nosey gave a fake pouty face that Villain didn't even register.

Sleep once again tugged at him, but he tried to keep his eyes pried open. He would never forgive himself if he fell asleep in Nosey's arms.

Suddenly, after what seemed like an eternity of floating through the air, Villain was sat down on a bed. Without any resistance, he allowed his limbs to be moved around and a thick, warm blanket to be draped over his body.

He closed his eyes, relishing the warmth and inviting comfort. He let out a few grumpy mutterings as the drug took hold once again and he fell into a deep slumber that only time could wake him from.

Nosey left immediately after tucking Villain in, if they even called it that. More like heeding to their boss's orders, but they hated it. Hated the way that Villain was being treated like a hero himself.

Hero entered the warm cell that Villain was placed in. The room was much nicer than the damp one, with a bed, light, and heating unit, but still a cell nevertheless.

She walked over to Villain's sleeping figure and traced his cheek with her long, unkept, fingernails. He didn't stir, which was good. Very carefully, she lifted the covers off and placed her hand on his chest.

And then she worked her powers, digging into Villain's conscience. It was foggy, which was understandable, and very difficult to navigate through, but she still found her destination.

The truth about what happened.

She watched the scene in her head. An imposter homeless man stalking up to Villain, asking for cash. Villain refused, beginning to walk away, but the homeless guy took out a gun and smacked the back of Villain's head. Villain then wheeled around and shoved the man against a nearby wall, giving him a round of punches. As Villain performed his beating, the homeless guy reached around and took Villain's wallet out. Villain quickly finished his work with a devastating punch that left the man in a heap. He then swooped down and grabbed his stolen wallet with a shrug.

Hero gasped and stepped backwards, quickly making sure that Villain didn't wake up. He didn't, so Hero put the blanket back over him and left the room.

As she strolled down the hallway, she thought of the feeling that she was getting from Villain's memories. Innocence. Villain was innocent. Not that he didn't do the extravagant illegal works that he regularly took part in, but that he had no idea that what he was doing was wrong.

He was misguided.

It took Villain some time to completely recover from the suppressor, but when he did, boy he felt like he could fly to the moon and back.

The downside of having healing powers was that you needed them for everyday function. They run your body systems like your nervous system does. It powers them like food and water does, so when those were taken away, Villain's body went on momentarily shut down. Hopefully Hero realized this before she decided to drug him again.

One day, Hero entered his cell as he was picking through breakfast. He had no recollection of Hero's impediment of his memories only days before.

"Villain," Hero cleared her throat and eyed Villain's plate in curiosity. "It's not poisoned," she laughed, wondering why he wasn't eating much.

"Not hungry," Villain replied, glancing at Hero for a brief second.

"You need the energy. We are going to start, uh, well, work today."

"Work?" Villain asked, absent-mindly.

"Yes. You are a prisoner," the words hurt Hero almost as much as she was the one receiving them. He really wasn't a prisoner. He was going to get reformed, learn morals, and hopefully become a hero, which was a long shot, but one should always hope for the best.

Hero sat on his bed as he finished lapping up the breakfast, which took a good thirty minutes. Hero was patient, however. Villain would need time to be assimilated into a hero's society. Spending some time in silence, watching him eat was insignificant compared to what he was about to do.

Two days later, Villain was throwing up in a toilet. Throwing up, not due to sickness or eating something funny, but from stress and exertion. The exercises that the heros made him, along with all the other "reforming" villains, were insane and taxing. Not to mention the mental strain with all of the "moral speeches" and assessments. Mulitple choice questions like: Which is the right thing to do when you see someone being beat up? A.) Call the cops or heros; B.) Stop the fight; C.) Talk them out of it calmly; or D.) All of the above. Villain put down B.

He failed the test.

Villain rested his forehead against the cool toilet seat. He had to get out of here. Runaway and leave. If only two days led up to the this, Villain glanced down at the bloody vomit in the toilet, then what would two weeks result in? Power suppressing? Villain shuddered. He couldn't go through that again.

So, Villain made the decision right then and there, infront of the toilet, that he would escape tonight and leave the city.

Forever.

#summer of whump #escape #villain whumpee #drugged #captivity #writing #hero whumper #hero caretaker #summerofwhump4 #drugged villain

[aneiria-writes]

Prompt: Kaz scoping out and stealing an engagement ring for iInej. And maybe even the proposal? 🥺🥺🥺

Ok so this was a *brilliant* prompt and, although initially I was all like 'oh I'll write a quick drabble, it'll be fun!', here I am 2000 words later... hope you enjoy 😘

The Black Diamond of Ravka

It was a problem Kaz Brekker had been mulling over for several weeks now.

He let it sit there, in his mind, where he could pick up tiny bits of information while never looking directly at it, just the same as any mark. He poked it gently, turned it this way and that, slowly uncovering more and more knowledge as he did.

It wasn’t a question of money, of course. His personal coffers — and those of the Slat, for that matter — had only grown in the years since the Van Eck play. But there was always something more deserving for Kaz to spend his kruge on. Always something she’d rather have at her disposal.

So, it would be a lift. She couldn’t begrudge him if it was stolen, rather than bought…

But still, the problem wasn’t solved.

Kaz knew he couldn’t go traditional, not with her. She wouldn’t wear something ostentatious, not out at sea. And the last thing she needed when in Ketterdam was something that could catch the light so easily, and give away her position in the shadows.

So, the problem wasn’t solved.

At least, not until Kaz spread the Ketterdam Chronicle open in front of him that morning.

He always read the papers with his morning tea, everything from the Chronicle, aimed at the merchers and the elite, down to the Kruge News, which actually only cost a half-kruge to buy. It always paid to know what lies — or worse, truths — the printers were telling the punters.

His eyes settled on a particularly interesting article, tucked up in one corner in the middle of the sheets. His tea sat forgotten, rapidly cooling next to him, but Kaz paid it no heed.

‘Anika!’ he called out.

She was there between one breath and the next, eyes sparkling. ‘Yes, boss?’

Kaz knew she waited outside his office when she wasn’t on a job, eager to be on hand. She’d proved herself time and again since Kaz overthrew Haskell and took back the Crow Club. He’d come to rely on her, and thought she had a bright future ahead of her in the Dregs.

Not that he would ever tell her that, of course.

‘Tell Jesper to come see me,’ he said. Anika nodded. ‘And then get me Henessey.’

For once, Anika hesitated at his request. ‘Henessey?’ she repeated. Kaz just stared silently at her, until she squirmed under his gaze. ‘Henessey,’ she said, this time with determination. She hurried out of his office without another word.

Kaz leaned back in his chair and smiled grimly in satisfaction.

There was no problem, in the end, that Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands himself, could not solve in that scheming mind of his.

xXxXx

‘Saints, Kaz,’ Jesper muttered as the sweat started to roll down his forehead. ‘What kind of job is this, anyway?’ He was holding up a heavy sash window on his shoulder, keeping as still as possible as Kaz picked his way through several high-security locks on the inner grating.

‘The kind where you shut your mouth and do your job,’ Kaz hissed, wiggling a second pick into place as he manoeuvred the false tumblers out of the way. A second later, he felt the final lock give, with a satisfying click. ‘Now, let’s go.’

Jesper at least managed to keep quiet as they slid through the halls of the Mohs Building, deep in the heart of Ketterdam’s jewellery quarter.

And at the heart of the building, on a raised pedestal, nestled on a plush red velvet cushion, there it was.

The Black Diamond of Ravka.

The largest, flawless black diamond ever found. Rare, dark, beautiful — and utterly priceless.

Kaz reached down and plucked it from the cushion, deftly switching it for a perfectly matched weight before the pressure plate below could trigger. He couldn’t help the curl of his lip, almost into something resembling a smile, as he made it dance over his gloved fingers. There was a legend that a Ravkan black diamond granted its wearer invisibility: a myth Kaz knew would make her laugh. The diamond disappeared into his suit, and he flashed Jesper a grin.

‘Let’s get back to the crows.’

xXxXx

Kaz could tell the exact moment when Henessey Lynch walked into the Slat. The murmurings of the crows quietened down, for once, and a strange, expectant silence settled instead. Sure enough, Anika appeared in the open doorway of Kaz’s office a few moments later.

‘Henessey’s here, boss.’

‘Thanks, Anika,’ Kaz said, and Anika disappeared again, letting Henessey stride into the room. Kaz struggled to his feet, grabbing his cane and limping to the front of his desk.

‘Brekker,’ Henessey greeted him with a smile.

‘Henessey,’ Kaz replied, leaning back on his desk. Henessey Lynch was almost as tall as Kaz, with dark skin and black hair. Her neck was tattooed with a string of flowers.

‘Been a while since my presence was required among the crows,’ Henessey said as she made a slow circuit of Kaz’s office. ‘You must have something juicy for me.’

Kaz reached into a hidden pocket, and pulled free his prize. He unfurled his gloved palm, the black diamond nestled within. Henessey let out a long whistle, and plucked the jewel from his hand.

‘Is this the Ravkan gem everyone’s looking for? Should’ve known you’d lifted it, Dirtyhands.’

Kaz raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she held the diamond up to the light. ‘You can see why I needed your particular talents.’

She laughed at that, tossing the diamond in the air before catching it and looking back at Kaz. ‘I can get it done for you. You got the details?’ Kaz pulled out a scrap of folded paper, and Henessey snatched it, her quick, dark eyes scanning his instructions.

Henessey Lynch happened to be the best forger the whole of the Barrel had to offer. She could do official documents in her sleep, and could paint a DeKappel for you so good even the artist himself would have struggled to tell the forgery. And, if you happened to have a hot jewel that was incredibly recognisable, there was no better person to set it for you.

Henessey looked up from the paper. The diamond had already disappeared, but Kaz had seen exactly where she’d put it. Her sleight of hand wasn’t bad at all, but nothing got past Kaz Brekker. ‘Perfect. I’ll have it for you tomorrow,’ Henessey said, turning to leave.

‘I’ll be waiting,’ Kaz murmured.

And wait he did, once Henessey returned, the diamond set perfectly to his specifications. All he had to do now, was wait.

xXxXx

‘Boss?’ Two weeks later, Anika’s blonde hair peered around the open door to Kaz’s office. He waved her in, not bothering to look up from his work, and he heard her walk up to his desk. ‘The Wraith’s been spotted on the horizon,’ Anika said. Kaz looked up, so sharply his neck twinged, and found Anika grinning knowingly at him. Kaz narrowed his eyes, and Anika managed to smooth at least half of the smirk from her face. ‘She’ll be docking in about an hour.’

Kaz didn’t move, finishing up his work instead. When it was done he folded his papers and pushed his chair back from the desk, grimacing a little at the stiffness in his leg. Being a Barrel boss meant more time sitting than wandering Ketterdam as much as he used to, and his leg was certainly starting to complain about it. He leaned on his cane as he shuffled to the safe, spinning it open and stashing his papers away. Then he shrugged on his jacket, put his hat on, and straightened his tie, before heading out from the Slat.

Half an hour later, just as the Wraith sailed elegantly into Berth 22, Kaz reached the Church of Barter. He started to climb, slowly, following the path she had led him up all those years ago, just before their impossible auction job. He made his way to the roof, and found a perch overlooking the distant sea. He sat down, removed his gloves, and waited.

Between one breath and the next, Kaz knew she was there. He smiled to himself, tilted his head to the side as the cold bite of familiar metal ran gently up his neck.

‘Welcome home, my love,’ he said quietly, as the knife fell from his neck and she appeared in front of him.

Inej Ghafa.

His Wraith, his confidant, his partner in crime.

His everything.

‘I missed you,’ she said, and perched easily up next to him on the ledge. Their thighs touched, through the material of their clothes, and Kaz found himself pressing against her hard, warm presence. ‘What are you doing up here? I thought you’d have come to the docks.’

He usually did, whenever the Wraith glided into harbour after a stretch of slaver-hunting at sea. He gave a little shrug, gazing up at the sky. It was just turning to twilight, the sky a rainbow riot of colours melting into a dark, limpid blue far above them. ‘I know this is your favourite place in Ketterdam,’ he said.

Inej shifted slightly, and a moment later, she’d laid her head on his shoulder. Kaz took a deep breath in, the faint scent of sea-salt from her hair grounding him in place. Even after all this time, he had to work at being able to touch her. To be touched.

‘That’s what I told you,’ she said, and her silken hair, braided as usual, tickled his cheek when she spoke. For a brief moment, Kaz was unsure of himself. Of the plan.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice even. He felt her shrug.

‘It is my favourite place in Ketterdam,’ she explained. ‘But only after wherever you are at the time.’

Kaz didn’t trust himself to speak for a moment. No matter how many times Inej had shown she loved him just as much as he loved her, when she said something as simple and heartfelt as that, he still found himself momentarily blindsided that she’d chosen him, when she could have had anyone. As if sensing his inner turmoil, she moved her head very slightly, just enough so her nose could nudge against the skin of his neck. ‘Don’t get sentimental on me now, Brekker,’ she said playfully, and he couldn’t help grinning.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, Wraith,’ he replied. He reached into his pocket, not letting himself overthink things, or second guess himself. He pulled out the Black Diamond of Ravka, now set into a flawless gold ring. It was beautiful in the twilight, turning almost a dark blue colour, and instead of sparkling, it glowed like faint moonlight as he held it out.

He heard Inej’s gasp of breath, and her head whipped off his shoulder as she sat up next to him, straight as an arrow. ‘Kaz?’ she breathed, her voice completely different now. It was alert, questioning. Hopeful.

‘Inej.’

She waited in silence, her dark eyes fixed on him, as he pushed himself to his feet. He shuffled awkwardly in front of her, and got to his knees on the stone outcrop in front of them. His bad leg fired with pain, but he ignored it, drinking in the sight of Inej before him, looking down at him in wonder. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and her hands were clenched between her knees. He reached up with one hand, and she unclasped her own, letting him take one in his hold. In the other, he held out the black diamond ring, an offering to the only goddess he recognised in his life.

He paused, and she watched him. Words were not Kaz’s way of showing love, but he knew right now he had to try.

‘I’ll never ask you to stay in one place,’ he started, his voice harsher than he’d planned. ‘And I’m never going to be able to give you everything you deserve--’ Inej squeezed his hand then, as if to counter his words, but he just squeezed back and continued. ‘But I love you, Inej. So much it burns. And I will worship you, and protect you, and stand by your side, for the rest of your life.’

‘Kaz…’ Inej’s voice was raw, and he could see her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Her hand in his tightened, holding him in place as the black diamond glowed between them.

‘Please, Inej,’ he said. ‘Will you marry me?’

Inej moved so fast, Kaz was sprawled on his back on the stone before he had chance to blink. Inej straddled him, braced up on her hands and knees so they weren’t touching. Her nose was close enough to brush his. ‘Of course I’ll marry you, Kaz Brekker,’ she breathed, her smile dazzling. ‘I love you.’ He turned his head slightly to the right, and saw the ring was already on her finger.

‘I love you,’ he smiled up at her, and she lightly brushed her nose against his.

‘Can you kiss me?’ Inej whispered, and he could hear the hopefulness in her voice. He lifted a hand to her cheek, gently stroked her skin. She pressed into his palm, and he wrapped his other hand into her long braid and tugged it, pulling her lips down to his.

Kaz would spend the rest of his life kissing Inej Ghafa.

xXxXx

My ask box is still open if you want to send in a kanej / six of crows pairing prompt of your own!

#writing prompt #writing ask #kanej #kaz x inej #proposal #fluff #ask box #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #my writing #fanfic #oneshot #ficlet #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #raven cycle cameo

[9layerdevilfoodcake]

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

//

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

/

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

 

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

//

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

/

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

#Michael langdon x reader #Michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #far too much sarcasm

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 3)

Last Time: We finally found Miss Brett, the English woman who’s present had been erased from the scene of the crime, and dragged her ass to court only to discover that she was a Massively Racist Bitch in a swan hat. After a lot of back and forth it became clear that Dr Watson Wilson actually died of poisoning, and that Miss Brett took advantage of the fact Japan currently doesn’t do autopsy reports to shoot his corpse in the chest and frame me (Ryunosuke) for the murder. Fortunately for us Hosonaga took the bottle from the crime scene, and after needlessly translating Miss Brett for the last hour (and presumably filtering out a lot of questionable content) was only to happy to produce it for the court. Unfortunately for us the poison wasn’t in the bottle, so it’s up to a lady in pink to save the day!

I’m going to roundhouse kick Auchi

I’m liking how everyone else in this room is just as done with Auchi as I am

Our saviour Ryunosuke, that’s who

Oh, that’s not a glass

Is it about poisons?

It is!

Ok so I’m pretty sure that Curare is incredibly powerful and fast acting poison (which lines up with what we know). Unfortunately I think it needs to be injected but I might be mixing it up with something else.

Susato’s actually given me the report now, which is probably a much more sensible way of getting information (rather than me trying to remember what I’ve picked up from Agatha Christie novels), and unfortunately it looks like I remembered correctly about it needing to be injected.

(Side note: how alarming is it that I’ve retained this much knowledge on poisons? I feel the need to explain that I’ve been reading and listening to audio dramatisation of Agatha Christie novels since I was about three, but I feel like that makes it worse)

What is curious though is it’s potential use as an anaesthetic. Given that Dr Wilson had just had a tooth removed with anaesthetic I wonder if there’s a connection there?

I’m not sure what it could be though, unless it turns out Miss Brett Weekend at Berniesed his corpse all the over way from the clinic.

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Actually wait...

GET HER ASS JUDGE!!!

Auchi if we were to run this courtroom on things you know about we’d be running a kindergarten.

Auchi, you’d never even heard of Curare until I told you about it, be quiet while the grownups are talking.

Yeah, Curare is not a nice poison.

I’m not going to post the full explanation here, but wow, Kazuma’s really going all out with his description!

Also it looks like I misunderstood about it needing to be injected. Everyone’s saying that it can just be swallowed, which I guess that makes sense given how deadly it is.

Miss Brett’s being a bitch again (but what else is new) and Kazuma’s taking none of your shit and telling her that the feeling’s mutual. (Something I would have screenshot, but I was too busy calling Kazuma a legend to press the little square button.)

I knew it, it was only in the glass.

Yeah, now try it again from the glass you took.

Don’t worry Ryunosuke, I got this!

It’s ok Kazuma! Believe in me (Ryunosuke) and our beautiful friendship!

It astounds me too Kazuma, but for once I’m on to something!

Kazuma, please stop saying foreboding things, I need you to survive the next case and you’re already not being helped by the fact that you’re so much better than me. You’re so good you kind of render me, the protagonist, a little bit obsolete in fact.

PENALISED!

I guess I was wrong then! That bottle does somehow contain poison.

Yes Kuzuma, because I’m going to be penalised otherwise!

OH FUCK I’VE GOT IT!!!

I UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY THE FIRST TIME!!!

IT DOES NEED TO BE PUT INTO THE BLOODSTREAM!!!

AND THE DOCTOR HAD A GAPING WOUND IN HIS MOUTH!!!

WHICH MISS JEZAILLE BRETT ADMITTED SHE KNEW ABOUT!!!

It’s finally time!

Let’s get her!

He’s got it!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

She’s cracking!

Is it hatred Ryunosuke?

Ah no, my mistake - it’s lawyer rage conviction!

I know I’ve said this a lot but...

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!

HE DID THE THING!!!!!!!!

WE’RE USING HER OWN WORDS AGAINST HER

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!

Oh good... she’s started laughing

Oh no. We’ve set things into motion haven’t we.

Kazuma, I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself in the case to come.

SHE’S DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE!

You can’t do that!

Oh who am I kidding, this lady’s been dancing on privilege since she walked in.

Oh Ryunosuke I think she might have done...

I knew she felt like an end of game villain!

Auchi’s about to catch these hands!

Kazuma’s telling us to step into our mind palace.

‘Is Kazuma right’, he thinks, as he remembers the blood on the plate.

I don’t know Ryunosuke? Is water wet?

You got it Kazuma!

I mean to be fair it did only just happen.

DID HE STEAL THE PLATE?!?

YES HOSONAGA!!!

YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!!!

I do genuinely love these moments in Ace Attorney though. When everyone works as one to get some untouchable big fry. There’s something very rewarding about the whole thing.

Shit... she swapped it out...

Fortunately my man Hosonaga has everyone’s plates though!

Cheer up Ryunosuke, look, we have steak blood at least. And I’m sure Hosonaga’ll bring us the rest of the plates if we ask nicely. Especially after Miss Brett broke his bottle.

Miss Brett’s now making racist statements again.

But at least I’ve been given the steak to examine!

Bless you Kazuma

Ryunosuke what short of cats have you been looking at!

Get his ass (affectionately) Kazuma!

THE STOLEN COIN!!!

I KNEW SHE SWAPPED THEM!!!

(Also it looks like I was right about it being stolen by Nosa)

Didn’t know that was there, did you Miss Brett?

Now, dig your own grave with your words!

Now it’s time to dob Nosa in it. Sorry Nosa but you were kind of a jerk. Look on the bright side though, now’s your chance to redeem yourself in my eyes, like Hosonaga has!

Old man Korekuna’s armed and pissed!

Nosa I’m sorry. It’s best to throw yourself on his mercy now before I rile him up more. Use your baby to calm him if you must.

NICE CATCH NOSA!

I take everything back, Nosa your complete safe, old man Korekuna has no idea how to use that thing.

Ah, I forgot he was proficient in vase!

(Which I forgot to screenshot)

Never mind Nosa, you’re still screwed!

That is the right face to pull (Nosa not Hosonaga):

Look at him in the corner there. I feel bad now.

It was theft wasn’t it?

...oh Nosa what have you done?

(Kept food on his kids plate probably, given how he can’t afford childcare)

Nosa’s now accusing his infant son of being the mastermind... Sure Nosa, everyone’s bying that.

Either accusing a baby is a panic response, or I don’t need to feel so bad anymore.

Hosonaga how did you not immediately catch this guy?

HE SLIPPED THE COIN UNDER THE STEAK SO IT WOULDN’T BE FOUND WHEN HE WAS SEARCHED!

MISS BRETT’S TRYING TO WEASLE HER WAY OUT TO LUNCH AGAIN!

Oh thank god!

I thought for one terrible second we were letting her go.

(I’ve say it before and I’ll probably say it again, this is an intense first case)

Yes! ‘Her’ steak had a big bite mark in it!

But I thought and English Lady like yourself wouldn’t eat steak that way Miss Brett?

Of course, there’s a difference between the two photos.

I knew I could see the glass in the first one, which means it was taken before Miss Brett rearranged the table!

Oh, now Nosa’s saying that he switched the plates.

I must admit I didn’t expect that, I thought it was something Miss Brett did to remove the bloody evidence.

She’s cracking!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

YEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

IT WAS ALIVE!!!

BABIES!!!

BABIES EVERYWHERE!

Oh god... what’s she planning.

Your honour, she’s already poisoned one person, do you want to be next?

Kiss my ass Miss Brett

Get used to it Auchi.

HAHA!

DAMN KAZUMA

(Editor Note: I am very upset by how poorly my screenshots conveyed Kazuma destroying Auchi’s hairdo with his sword)

Also, were you always hot Kazuma?

Wait no - I can’t be thinking that. The bar for fictional men I like is the floor and if I want Kazuma to continue to live a long, happy, non morally ambiguous life, I need him to not fall into the category of ‘fictional men I find hot’.

For some reason, I picture it being blue and spiky your honour

Wait what’s this about Kazuma having a mission?

Oh fucking hell, I’ve doomed you to moral ambiguity haven’t I Kazuma?

Thank you for the backhanded compliment your honour!

Ooh, petals rather than confetti, that’s a nice touch!

We did it!!!

And most importantly of all, we’re being praised by Kazuma!

Susato! Our saviour! Has turned up, along with her father: the innocent Professor Mikotoba, who I would like to thank and to reiterate that he could never kill anyone!

Seriously though, what was the relationship between him an Dr Wilson?

Ah ok, I simply just had to click on to find out.

So apparently the two of them worked together in the same hospital in London for a while.

OH MY GOD KAZUMA’S TAKING THE SWORD WITH HIM TO GREAT BRITAIN!!!

YES KAZUMA! F THEM UP!!!

(Also if your journey tragically ends in the customs office there’s a non-dead-Kazuma reason for me to go in your place.)

Oh fuck, she got off didn’t she...

I knew it

Of fucking course...

So basically she’s going to get off with a slap on the wrist. That’s what I’m getting from all of this.

Yep

Ah, but what you’ve failed to understand Kazuma is that the British Government and 99% of those people in power, are hypocritical dirtbags who will change the rules to suit them.

OK TEAM LETS GO GET HER ASS!!!

FINAL BOSS! FINAL BOSS!

Now on to the party with Kazuma!

And also Hosonaga apparently. Who is clinging onto his waiter job even though the case he was investigating is solved. Look like Ryunosuke was right about money being tight.

Hosonaga, do you not have a job anymore?

Were your superiors upset when you said ‘fuck the government’ and bought Miss Brett to us? Or was it your one man forensics team shtick that upsets them?

Oh yeah, we never did find that out did we?

Kazuma Asogi I forbid you from charging me with looking after your sister, of for that matter anything, incase something happens to you!

Fortunatly for us Hosonaga is here! Diving in-front of that Kazuma shaped plot bullet with promises of food!

Ryunosuke over here, taking the cases final moments to roast Hosonaga.

I think we’re even now Satoru, my second favorite character.

I don’t want to click to the next text box.

OH FUCK!

Oh wait, false alarm everyone!

I genuinely thought that the case was going to end with something like: but little did I realize that he never would.

Anyway that’s enough worrying about Kazuma! For now let’s enjoy the fact we’ve finished this bastard hard first case!

We’re moving on to Episode 2: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band next!

#tgaa spoilers #tgaa #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the great departure #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asougi #satoru hosonaga #jezaille brett #susato mikotoba #yuujin mikotoba

[mc-lukanette]

Luka was taking his usual route home, his coffee in hand and marked with his name, as it always was. All employees got one for free at the end of the day, and while it felt a little too generous for him to accept at first, he got used to the insistence, just glad to have a boss who wanted their workers to be happy.

That said, he hadn't opened it yet, planning on doing so when he got home in order to be perked up and ready to work on his music. The coffee he made without following a menu had a certain bite to it that somehow made the wake-up call even stronger, earning him the nickname "Viperion" from all the people he worked with. He didn't complain, obviously; it sounded cool.

As he walked down the wide sidewalk, he glanced up and noticed something that made him pause: a woman, slumped over a table and looking ready to either sleep or pass into the afterlife. He couldn't get a good look at her face, since she was face-down on the table and her black hair was making any of her features unseeable, but he saw the professional outfit she wore and the sketchbook resting under her hand, implying that she was overworked.

Luka realized belatedly that she didn't have a writing utensil in hand, his eyes drifting down to scan the circular table she was laying on. Indeed, there it was, on the opposite side of the table and continuing to roll along due to the occasional gust of wind. He rushed forward as it neared the edge, saving it from a sad fate on the sidewalk. He couldn't tell how fragile it was, but it seemed expensive, so he was glad to have come by when he did.

Slipping the pen between the open pages in the book, Luka's next priority was to duck down and check under the table for the woman's belongings. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that her purse was safely between her legs, unstolen and with the strap hanging around her shoulder. From the looks of how she was hunched over it with her legs pressed into the sides, he imagined that she might stir awake if someone attempted to take it or steal what was inside, but he wasn't going to take that chance.

He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle shake, even though he felt bad for doing so. The woman made an assortment of whines and groans at the motion, shifting away from him and curling in on herself. She even pulled her sketchbook in with her as if it were a pillow, clearly not willing to depart from whatever half-asleep state she was in. He couldn't help feeling bad for her; she was so obviously exhausted and he got the impression that this was a recurring thing.

While debating on what to do, he remembered the coffee in his hand, still hot and definitely a burst of caffeine for anyone who drank it. There was no question as to whether or not he should offer it to her, he just did, holding the cup out and gingerly pressing the bottom of it against the back of her hand while ensuring that the name side was facing away from her. She shifted again, but had a better reaction to the heat, maybe recognizing what it meant. She turned her head up, her hair parting just enough for him to see one of her eyes as it took in the cup in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat, having not expected to see such a bright blue color, but he remained still and waited for her reaction.

Eventually, the hand not touched by the cup came up to grab it, the other soon moving out from under the cup to do the same. She tilted her head back down at the table, then gave him a muffled, "thanks," probably thinking that he was someone serving her a drink she ordered.

He smiled, her voice reminding him of the pleasant chime of a bell. He was content to accept whoever she thought he was so long as she accepted the drink, releasing it so he could walk away from her. Once he was a fair distance away, he looked back to see that she was slowly pushing herself up so she could drink the coffee he'd given her. Satisfied and feeling that it was safe to go, he rounded the next corner to continue his way home.

—————

The next day at work was particularly slow, with Luka having difficulty keeping himself occupied. He'd already wiped down everything in the shop that he could think of without the customers starting to suspect that he had a cleaning obsession, so he gave into his personal wants and pulled out a notepad he kept on him. It wasn't much, but he used it to jot down little melodies that came into his head, figuring that he might be able to turn them into something special with a little bit of time and effort.

He'd only been able to sketch some quick staff lines when the front door opened, rapid footsteps following as someone apparently barreled through. He glanced up at him, only needing to look for a moment before he recognized them as the woman he'd helped yesterday, though she was sporting casual wear instead of her business attire. A few of the customers at the tables turned to eye her, their faces a mixture of curious and confused, but she didn't seem to care.

"Is—" The woman panted, waiting to catch her breath before she stood straight, raising her right hand to reveal the coffee cup she'd been given yesterday. "Is there a Luka here?"

Luka gaped, then raised the notepad to his mouth to hide the fact that he was chuckling. He'd honestly thought that something terrible had happened to her with the panic she was in, but this?

The woman looked around frantically, clearly hoping to get a positive response. The customers who'd focused on her earlier had glanced in Luka's direction at the mention of his name, causing her to follow their gaze to him. Luka himself lowered his notepad enough to offer her a smile, his free hand going up to greet her. She ran up to him, taking note of the signature on his name tag and then comparing it to the one on the cup.

"Oh—thank goodness," she sighed. "I found you." Setting the cup down, she threw herself face-down onto the counter. Luka felt glad that he'd just cleaned there.

Curious, he asked, "Why were you looking for me?"

"I am so sorry," she whined in response. Raising her head just enough to look up at him, she continued, "I was so tired and I wasn't even thinking, and then I drank all of your coffee!"

He blinked, half-wondering if maybe she'd been so tired then that she thought that she'd stolen it. Offering her a smile, he placed his hands on the counter and lowered himself until he was level with her, assuring, "I gave it to you, it's okay. We get them for free. Besides, you looked exhausted and you definitely needed it more than I did."

"Still!" she argued, pushing herself back up with a pout.

The speed of her response told him that she actually knew already that she didn't steal it, yet was still that distraught over the matter of drinking his coffee anyway. He thought it was cute.

She threw her arms out. "And I'd never been to this place before and had to find directions on my phone and I was so worried that I might've picked the wrong one and I wouldn't know since I figured you were just a customer so my chances of finding you again were already bad and even if you were a regular I wouldn't even know what you looked like—" She stopped herself, letting out a sigh as she seemed to realize that she was getting side-tracked.

Luka watched, a mixture between amused and maybe a little charmed as the woman pulled out her purse and began to dig through it. Though he couldn't make out much, he could tell that it was organized, leading to her pulling out what she'd been looked for relatively quickly.

With a sudden serious look on her face, she firmly placed the money she'd grabbed down on the counter. "Anyway, at least let me pay you back! I don’t care if you got it for free or not!"

Luka looked at her, then the money, then back at her, reminding himself that she really went through so much trouble over a cup of coffee and it was absolutely adorable. He wasn't sure what his face looked like, but he knew it wasn't his normal "customer smile."

"What's your name?" he finally asked, once he'd put his thoughts together.

"W-what?" The serious expression vanished, replaced by surprise. "Um—" She tilted her head, but answered him anyway despite not knowing why he was asking. "Marinette."

Marinette.

Grinning at the melody taking place in his head, he turned away from her, abandoning the money she'd set down and picking up a cup to start writing on. "So, what kind of coffee do you want for that money?"

"H-hey!"

#lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #((Lineith: Coffee Shop AU)) #((me: I mean I've done everything else already so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)) #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Death Cannot Stop True Love

Summary: After being kidnapped from his kidnapper by the Dread Pirate Roberts, Blaine reminisces on the poor farmboy who once held his heart.

The Princess Bride AU, one shot, 1.7k words

A/N: did i work on ANY of my wips this weekend? no <3

BUT DID I WATCH THE PRINCESS BRIDE TWICE AND THEN SUBSEQUENTLY WRITE THIS? YOu BET YOUR ASS I DID

I've never really written anything like this??? But I surprisingly had a lot of fun with it, so let me know what you think! :D

Read on Ao3

*** 

Blaine’s hands land a bit too roughly against the grey granite for his taste, rather put off by the masked stanger’s manhandling.

He supposes being kidnapped by Willaim Schuester, then having the Dread Pirate Roberts kidnap him from his kidnapper wasn’t quite the delightful way he’d expected to end his evening ride, either.

“Rest, your Highness,” the man in black commands, the strands of tattered fabric that secure his mask tied behind his head billowing in the wind. Blaine refuses to shiver at the cool air of the highland whipping across his face, not wanting to show this man any signs of weakness. “You’re going to need it.”

“You’re the one who’s going to need rest,” Blaine spits, turning to face the man and take a proper seat on the stone. “My betrothed will come for me. Prince Smythe is an excellent tracker. He could track a falcon on a cloudy day, and he and his infantry will have me back in the castle and you in shackles by dusk.”

He should not make such bold claims at a time like this, and certainly not to someone as deadly as the Dread Pirate Roberts. Well, Blaine is only mostly sure he’s speaking to the infamous Pirate known for his murderous voyages on his ship, “Revenge”, but he’s certain enough.

“Ah, yes,” the man says bitterly back, fingers drumming ansty along the handle of his sheathed sword. “Prince Smythe. You have much faith in your most beloved, don’t you?”

Having his daily outing interrupted by that faux-philosopher Schuester from earlier and his two henchmen was unpleasant enough, but of all the things he’s heard come out of someone’s mouth this was the foulest. The law of the land gives Smythe the right to choose his spouse, and he chose Blaine. Despite this, Blaine knows he could never love Sebastian back. Now when he’s really known and lost his true love.

“I never said he was my most beloved,” Blaine snarls.

No. That title belongs to a name too precious to be uttered in front of the likes of a cheating, stealing, slaying pirate.

It’s been five long and lonely years since his dearest Kurt left him to venture out to sea, but Blaine can still feel Kurt’s hand in his sometimes, can still feel the residual warmth, as if it were yesterday. When he closes his eyes, it’s Kurt’s beautiful blue ones that are waiting for him when he falls asleep. Every round that his heart beats, it beats for the long dead Kurt Hummel.

Kurt had been Blaine’s family’s farm boy, and Blaine, in his infantile arrogance, loved nothing more than to boss him around. Whether it was “Farmboy, shine my saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning,” or “Farmboy, take these jugs down by the river to wash,” Kurt always responded with the same simple sentence that sent Blaine’s heart aflutter.

“As you wish.”

Blaine didn’t understand it at first—how could he, when he’d never been in love—the quickening of his pulse when he was near Kurt, how his knees seemed to careen and fail when hazel met piercing blue.

He didn’t understand why, when he’d asked Kurt to clean the stables, Kurt had looked at him with electricity in his eyes like a thunderstorm, and Blaine felt compelled to add a meek, “Please?” to the end of his request. He didn’t understand why when Kurt so softly answered him with those three little words— “As you wish” —Blaine would light like a lantern from the inside out.

He didn’t understand why he asked Kurt to fetch him a pitcher hanging right by his own head, just so he could be graced with having him in such close proximity, chest to chest.

“As you wish,” Kurt had said, and Blaine didn’t understand the magnetic force drawing them closer and closer.

And then Kurt’s lips were on his, and oh, how Blaine finally understood. He understood why wars were waged over Helen of Troy, and why lutists serenaded the public with foolish tunes of love that were actually the least foolish things in their nature.

He understood that every time Kurt said, “As you wish,” what he truly was saying was “I love you.”

He understood so clearly, and everything that wasn’t Kurt was reduced to complete and utter nonsense.

For a short year, they lived on borrowed time. Kurt’s family wasn’t from money, so he left the farm—and with it, Blaine—to seek wealth enough to ask for Blaine’s hand in marriage. It wasn’t long until the news came back to him that Kurt had encountered the Dread Pirate Roberts on the high seas.

There are three things Blaine knows to be true. Kurt Hummel was his one true love, death takes everyone and does not discriminate, and the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners.

Kurt never returned to him after that.

“No, I suppose he’s not your one true love,” the Dread Pirate responds, unimpressed. “I wonder whether a royal-to-be like yourself has ever truly loved.”

“I’ve loved and been loved deeper than you will ever know!” Blaine counters. “He was stolen from me, his blood on your sword. I know who you are. You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it.”

The Dread Pirate gives a little flourish, his night black outfit a stark contrast to the verdant grass of the highlands. “With pride.”

“You killed my love.”

“Quite possible. I’ve killed many of noble blood aboard my ship.”

“You know nothing,” Blaine says. “He was poor. Poor and perfect and with eyes like the sea after a storm. I received notice that he’d crossed your path on the high seas, and as we all know, you never take prisoners.”

Roberts shrugs, displaying such upsetting nonchalance at Kurt’s demise. “Can’t afford to make any exceptions. Once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it's nothing but work, work, work, all the time.”

Being held hostage by Schuester while the Dread Pirate fought off Michael Chang, one of the best swordsman ever to walk the earth, was nerve wracking. Hearing how he then proceeded to physically conquer who is probably the tallest man Blaine has ever seen, and then listening as he sat blindfolded to this man outwit William into drinking from a poisoned cup was a hellish enough adventure on its own, but it was not as dreadful as hearing his anguish ridiculed by this stranger.

“You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness.” The pirate gives Blaine a look that he would consider hurt, if he did not hate him so. “Anyone who says different is selling something… I think I remember this farmboy of yours. This would be about what, five years ago?”

Five years, three months, and sixteen days, Blaine refuses to say. His silence doesn’t deter Roberts from continuing.

“He died well, if it pleases you to hear that much.”

“With all due respect—which is little to none—nothing you can say will please me. Likewise, nothing you can say will harm me.”

“He made no attempts at either bribery or blubbering. He simply said Please. I need to live. It was the please that caught my attention. I need to live for him.” The pirate’s eyes grow misty and distant and so painfully reminiscent of his love’s that Blaine is forced to look away for a moment. “He spoke of a boy so lovely, and of enduring faithfulness. Sad to see he died for nothing. Tell me, Highness, when you heard news of his death, did you immediately become engaged, or did you wait a week out of respect for the dead?”

“Had I a choice in this matter I would join him among the realm of the dead!” Blaine yells back, surprised to see a bit of shock in the thief’s eyes. “You mocked my pain once, do not do it again. I died that day!”

The unmistakable sound of hooves pounding into the ground of the hillside opposite them causes Blaine to sigh in relief. He never thought he would be so elated to see his fiance. Still... elated may be too strong of a word.

The Dread Pirate turns to scout the incoming commotion, and Blaine acts before he has time to second guess himself.

“And you can die, too, for all I care,” he grits out, and shoves hard on the Dread Pirate’s back, sending the murderer tumbling down the hillside.

Blaine’s expecting to hear shouts of terror coming from the pirate, but what he hears next makes his stomach pool with dread.

“Aaaaaas yoooouuuuu wiiiiiiish!” echoes through the hillside, coming from the Dread Pirate Roberts and Blaine’s jaw drops.

“Kurt,” he gasps. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Over there!” he hears Sebastian’s familiar and grating voice call out from just beyond the hillside. One glance behind his shoulder and Blaine knows they will come for him, and when they do, he will never see Kurt again.

So he jumps forward and follows Kurt rolling down along the slope of the hill.

Small rocks and flowers swirl past him in a blur, dirt kicked up every time his boots collide with the ground, and after falling for what feels like ages, his body finally comes to a halt, right next to Kurt’s warm one.

Blaine shifts to see Kurt better, body bruised from the fall, but soul absolutely jubilant.

Kurt scrambles over to him, black mask having been knocked off in the tumble. “Are you alright? Can you stand?”

Blaine laughs and reaches out to grab Kurt’s— Kurt’s —hand on top of his chest. as if to keep them physically tethered this time. “Stand? You’re alive. If you want, I could fly.” He buries his head deep into Kurt’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him mixed with the grass and the dirt and the absolute joy of him being alive.

Kurt holds him back just as tight. “I told you I’d always come for you.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“My sweet Blaine,” Kurt murmurs, hand warm against Blaine’s cheek. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

Blaine barely has time to smile before Kurt’s lips are on his again, back in their rightful place.

#klaine #glee #wow look at me im writing! #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #kurt hummel #blaine anderson

[holylulusworld]

Stolen reputation

Summary: Losing your job is more than you can bear…

Pairing: CEO!Dean x Accountant!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradburry, Jo Harvelle, Lisa Braeden

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of cancer/cancer treatment, accusation, mentions of anxiety

Nervously chewing on your lower lip, you wait for Dean Winchester to finally say a word. Usually, you work with his brother Sam or on rare occasions with his father but Dean, well Dean Winchester is the man they send you to if you messed up.

You wreck your brain since Jo told you worriedly that Dean Winchester wants to see you at his office. The last time that man talked to you was when he asked if you could bring him a coffee too as his secretary quit yet again.

“Do you know why you are here?” Dean’s voice low and stern brings you out of your thoughts. “I asked you a question Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Jo told me you want to see me, Sir. I know I was late last week but it was the first time and I swear it will never happen again,” apologizing for the only mistake you made in the five years you work for Winchester Inc. you dare not to meet Dean’s gaze.

“You think I would waste my time for nonsense as coming too late to work? This is serious, Ms. Y/L/N. Stealing money from our clients’ accounts is a crime. You are lucky I did not call the cops,” Dean barks and your head snaps upward to meet his gaze.

“I would never steal, Sir. I swear I do not know what you are talking about. I work hard, never make mistakes, and came too late only this once in over five years. I’m loyal and reliable. I never stole anything,” close to tears, you feel your anxiety rise again. Your lips start to quiver, and you need all your strength to not start to hyperventilate.

“Do you think I am dumb, that Lisa is dumb?” You shake your head, wiping a few rogue tears away.

“Lisa? I don’t understand. She talked to me just yesterday, asked me questions about the accounts I had to close as the clients left us,” you want to open your laptop to show Dean the data but he grasps it, tossing it onto the couch.

“Stop lying, Y/N!” He slams the palm of his hands onto the leans of your chair, making you flinch.

“I do not lie, Sir. Cole signed the papers. He would’ve seen any mistake or if money would have disappeared. I swear, there is nothing wrong with my accounts.” Dean doesn’t believe you, rather gets papers out for you to sign.

“You’re lucky I got the money back from the account you transferred it to. This way, we can keep the cops out of this and not lose our reputation for being safer than any bank,” Dean hands you a pen, glaring at you. “You are fired. Sign this, pack your shit and leave.”

“Sir, please, I need this job. I didn’t do anything wrong. Let me check the accounts, or ask Charlie. I know she can find out if I manipulated any account, Sir. Give me the chance to prove I am innocent,” you try but Dean points toward the papers and you know – he will not give you a chance.

“To think I believed you are different, Y/N,” Dean huffs, grabbing your wrist harshly to lead you out of his office. “I’ll stay next to you and watch you pack your things. You are not allowed to enter this building or have contact with one of the employers ever again.

“Y/N,” Jo gasp watching tears run down your cheeks while you toss the few belongings you brought to your working place into your bag. “What happened?”

“Lisa said I stole money,” you sniffle. “Mr. Winchdester didn’t let me prove I am innocent so she won and will get my position.”

“That’s what she wanted after all,” Jo, grunts. “I can’t believe she lied to get your job,” Dean furrows his brows at Jo, searching her face. “Shame, Y/N. How will you pay for your dad’s…” You shake your head, pressing your index finger to your friend's lips.

“I’ll find a way, always did Jo. Losing a job is not the end of the world…”

Three months later…

“I am back bitches and…” Charlie looks at your working place, wondering why Lisa Braeden sits at your place. “What the fuck happened, Jo?”

“Lisa the bitch Braeden accused Y/N she stole money from two accounts. Dean didn’t give her a chance to prove she’s innocent. Cole tried to talk to Dean but he stayed adamant. I think she works three jobs now to pay for her dad’s treatment.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Charlie yells before she waltzes toward Dean’s office. “Why did no one call me or Sam? I bet we could’ve found the culprit in no time and I am sure, it’s not Y/N.”

“Charlie, what the…,” Dean gasps when Charlie shoves him aside to get access to his computer. “Charlie?”

“Show me the accounts, now. I don’t believe Y/N stole money. If you do not give her a chance, fine, but I will check her story before judging her.”

“Fine, check it. I bet you will not find anything proving she’s innocent…” Dean enters his password, opening the accounts. “There. Money got transferred to this bank account.”

“Did you look at the time stamp Dean?” Charlie looks up at Dean, pointing toward the time stamp. “I mean, Y/N was in Melbourne with Sam, Jo, and Cole at that time. I know as we had a great video chat sleepover that night.”

“What? No, this is impossible,” Dean swallows thickly, nervously rubbing his scruffy cheek. “She could’ve accessed…oh, no…we changed the system back then. You can only access the account from the main server at this building.”

“Exactly, Mr. Winchester. Not only did you accuse the poor girl, but you also fired her. Do you know what it means to get fired by a Winchester?” Nodding Dean looks at the next account and the time stamp. “Same date and time, Dean. If anyone stole the money, it was not Y/N, Jo, or Sam. I was at Paris and I don’t think you stole the money to fire Y/N…”

Whilst Dean tries to find out where you moved to or how to apologize for not giving you a chance to prove you are innocent you work three jobs. You even had to move out of her apartment to spare money as your father’s condition got worse.

“How is he today?” Rubbing your sore eyes you look up at Alex, giving the friendly nurse a sad smile. “You look tired, Y/N.”

“Just came home from my night job, had a shower to spend a few hours here before my day job starts,” you huff, hating you lied to your father. “Dad asked why I am always tired, you know, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I got fired.”

“Whatever that guy said is wrong. I know you for three years now. Never would you steal anything, Y/N,” Alex looks at your father, giving you a soft smile. “He’s doing better, the therapy seems to help.”

“It’s worth working three jobs, I know it,” grasping for your father’s hand you gently press it to your face. “One day he’ll get better.”

“Mom, I know that I shall not mess with a Winchester, but that douche fired Y/N. You know, the girl I told you about. Her father has lung cancer, and she spends all the money she earns with three jobs for an expensive experimental treatment. You know Dean Winchester, tell him he’s an asshole for ruining the girl,” Alex angrily hangs up the phone, shaking her head at Jody’s words.

“Was that your mom?” Claire sighs, watching you sleepily read your father his favorite book. “Does the girl ever sleep?”

“Not with three jobs and her dad’s condition,” Alex explains what happened to you, your job, and Dean Winchester, unbeknownst Claire’s father is a good friend of Dean. “Poor girl will break down sooner or later…”

Dean doesn’t know if he’s allowed to enter your father's hospital room. Only stealing glances he watches you talk to your father, telling him it’s an honor to work for John Winchester’s company.

“You know the company dad. Always work, but it’s worth it, just like you said. The Winchesters are fair men,” you almost choke on your lie but your father would worry about you, and that’s the last thing he needs.

“I’m so proud of you, sugarplum,” you nod, holding back the tears when your father drifts back into sleep.

“I wish you had a reason, daddy. I’m working three lousy jobs,” pressing a soft kiss to your father's cheek you forget about your sorrows for a moment. “Get better dad, that’s all I want.”

Dean hides behind a corner when you leave your father’s room. He can see the bags under your eyes, a sign that you haven’t slept for too long. You lost weight too, just like the smile you used to ‘wear’.

“What can I get you? Whiskey, vodka, or beer?”

Dean nervously looks at you, waiting for you to recognize him at the end of the bar. You are busy explaining a drink to a customer so he must wait before you turn your attention toward him.

“What can I…?” You clench your jaw when you meet familiar green eyes, “get you, Sir?”

“Hi, erm…uh, beer would be fine, Y/N,” he stammers pointing toward the other guest. “Some nuts too?”

“Sure,” turning around you take deep breaths. You hate Dean Winchester, but you can’t lose one of your jobs, so you place a beer and nuts in front of him. “Anything else, Sir?”

“Y/N, when do you get off? I’d like to talk to you,” you wipe your hands at your jeans, not meeting Dean’s gaze.

“Sir, I have to ask you to not use my forename. It’s Ms. Y/L/N or bartender to you. If you excuse me now, I can’t lose another job because of you,” you jerk your head toward two waiting customers. “Other people want to have a drink too. Goodnight, Sir.”

“Y/N, damnit,” grumbling Dean moves to the other end of the bar, looking at you, expectantly. “I want another drink, no, the whole bottle, and your company.” He places his wallet onto the counter, slamming two-hundred bucks onto the counter. “Stay.”

“I got no time, okay. If you want to sue me or call the cops for the lies Lisa told about me, do so,” with two fingers you shove the money toward Dean, glaring at your former boss. “I don’t need or want your dirty money. Go and spend it at someone else.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean tries, “Charlie proved it wasn’t you who manipulated the accounts of our customers. I’m sorry for not giving you a chance.”

“Not giving me a chance?” You toss the dishtowel you use to clean the counter into Dean’s face. “Are you fucking kidding me? I lost my reputation thanks to you. I work at night at a bar, clean toilets during the day, and in the morning, I work at a diner barely making any money. Sorry doesn’t fix shit, you son of a bitch!” Emptying the bottle of Whiskey over Dean’s face you nod at your boss who mouths ‘you are fired’. “Fuck you, Winchester…”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you a stalker? Do I need to call the cops to get you off my back? Is making my life even more miserable your new hobby?” Brushing past Dean who waited for you at your father’s house you ignore he tries to talk to you.

“Y/N, please wait. I made a dumb mistake. I never wanted you to lose your job or reputation. Lisa came to me, showing me, the accounts and I did not check the date, okay. I should’ve looked closer at the data, but I was so mad. I wanted you to be the new head of the financial department. I felt betrayed, sweetheart.” Dean grasps for your hand, not wanting you to believe he fired you on purpose.

“I’m not your sweetheart, Winchester. My name is Y/N, not sweetheart, baby girl, or the other shit you call your secretaries. I might not own money, a house, or fancy shit but I got dignity, which means I do not have to listen to your stupid pet names for me.”

“I apologize for the pet names, sw…Y/N. Please, let’s go inside and talk about the data, Lisa’s lies, and the stolen money. Dad, he told me to get you back.”

“Your father?” Not believing John Winchester even knows you exist you blink a few times. “Why should he want me to come back? I don’t think he remembers we ever talked.”

“You’re wrong. My father, he remembers your work, the data you handed him just in time for a big deal. John Winchester only remembers people impressing him. You are one of them.”

“John Winchester remembers me…” Mumbling the words you smile. “I’ll tell my dad John Winchester remembered me.”

“Can we talk now? I’d like to have my best worker back. I will do anything to make it up to you,” Dean offers, holding out his hand. “Let me prove I can be fair.”

“I need to sleep for my job in the morning. Maybe I find some spare time between my job at the diner and my cleaning job,” you turn on your heels, looking for your keys. “If you excuse me now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Jesus, sweetheart you are hard to crack. Shall I fall to my knees?” Angrily turning around, you glare at Dean.

“You don’t get it.” You slap his cheek harshly. “It’s not about losing about a job, it’s so much more. I invested five years into your fathers’ company. I spend more time at my desk than with friends or dating. My father was proud of me. I could pay his bills from the hospital.”

“We can find a way to help you, Y/N. Let me…”

“I am not done!” Your angry eyes meet Dean’s, and he gulps, not knowing if he shall be turned on by or scared of you. Suddenly my job was gone, my home too, just like the reputation I build for years. I lost everything as you used your downstairs brain.”

“What the…oh-I get it,” Dean huffs, hanging his head in shame. “You know about me and Lisa. It was after a Christmas party. I got drunk and you know the rest.”

“Only as you banged her doesn’t mean you had to believe her lies. You could’ve handled the situation like a Winchester. Sam or your father would’ve checked the data and not believe that woman.”

Dean nods, taking your hand to squeeze it tightly. “I’m honestly sorry, Y/N. I should’ve treated you with respect and checked the data. I promise to do better if you give me a chance and come back. Work for us again and you’ll get the respect and position you deserve,” you consider Dean’s proposal, glancing at your watch.

“No pet names,” Dean nods, laughing at your angry expression. “I mean it. Not all girls like to get called sweetheart at work.”

“Okay, noted, Y/N. No pet names at work,” he grins now, looking at your hand in his. “Maybe one day I can call you sweetheart outside of work…”

“You can dream, Winchester…you can dream…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog

#Stolen reputation #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #angst #ceo!dean Winchester #ceo!dean #dean x reader #AU Fanfic #spn au fanfiction

[jbbuckybarnes]

Concerned Parents

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Desc: To get the child back after it was taken from you, Din has to remove the helmet to get into a place to find out where he was taken. He didn‘t think you‘d have to see him AND kiss him to keep the cover up. Warnings: flirting, sexual references, not proofread

„They won‘t let you into that place with your helmet on. It‘s like the Hutts but worse and more uptight.“ Fennec had explained about the shady looking hut you were all looking at. „I‘ll go in alone, you‘re my backup.“ Din looked at you, Fennec and Boba. Your eyes widened but you kept your mouth shut. You all wanted the baby, whatever it takes. Everyone agreed to his plan. Fennec and Boba would take long range, you‘d be close enough to barge in, just in case all hell broke loose. He left his visible armor in Boba‘s ship, put something on over his chest plate and hid his face under a cloth wrapped around his face, a thinner material around his eyes that he could look through. „Let‘s go.“

Fennec went on her position, Boba on the opposite hill. You followed a couple dozen steps behind Mando You saw him starting to remove his headwrap that he put on for around all of you. Out of respect you looked around instead, but you could stop letting your eyes wander past him, noticing brown fluffy hair. You wondered how it looked this good after all these hours under a helmet. You sat down under a lamp in earshot of the hut, noticing his deep voice talking to get into the place. A grunt of agreement came back. With a touch against your ear you started hearing out what was going on inside. „I heard you could lead me to any imperial ship.“ You finally made out his voice out of all of them. „You heard right. For the right price I‘ll be able to locate almost any ship.“ A scratchy voice answered. „I only have this amount of credits, but I know the ship has cargo worth more than two dozen times of it.“ You heard a grunt and a commotion. „You take me for someone taking upfront payment and leaving with the rest?“ He asked in a calmer voice. „I never break my part of a contract. I‘m a bounty hunter.“ „Oh?“ You sighed and got up, „You‘re an idiot. That‘s what you are.“ The weird tentacle guy at the entrance looked you up and down and then nodded to let you in. „We don‘t really like your kind here.“ „I‘ll be gone and back with more. I‘m not here for a bounty. I‘m here to get something that was stolen from me by a Moff.“ You saw the big man look him up and down hesitantly, „Which one?“ „Moff Gideon.“ Now the man looked angry. „Are you kidding me? That man is dead!“ „He isn‘t, he has recently appeared on Nevarro and took someone from me.“ „Someone you say?“ „My child. And I know it isn‘t dead.“ „You‘re making stuff up, my friend.“ The guards around the man tensed up. You came closer, throwing on your charm, „Heard you talking about Moff Gideon.“ On the table in front of the guy you put down the disc with the holo message. The whole message from the Nevarro base played off. „That‘s from about a week ago.“ You looked at the guy, still trying to respect Din‘s creed. „And who are you?“ He smirked at you, looking you up and down. „A concerned mother, one could say.“ You winked at him and sat down next to Din. „You a bounty hunter too?“ He looked between you both. „Nope. Actually used to be a bounty. Let‘s just say I‘m good at stealing.“ „Odd pair. Hm.“ He looked between you both again and you put your head on Din‘s shoulder and put your arm around him. „2500 credits up front for someone that wants to take on Gideon. That‘s...I don‘t have to tell you that is a low amount of credits, but I hate that guy as much as the next person. I‘ll help you, but you‘re gonna have to give me your code, because I will put a bounty on you if you don‘t pay up.“ The man didn‘t account for possible death, but you didn‘t mention that error of mind. „Kakiu? You know what to do.“ A small thin man nodded and ran off into a backroom. You felt Din tense up under your temple and gently went over his other shoulder with your hand. „Why would he keep your child alive?“ The man was nosy, but he had a valid question. „Our child has some specific mutation about his blood that they want to experiment with. Tried to hunt us for it for a while…well, and last week they got him. Now we‘re just trying to get him back any way we can.“ The man‘s face softened a bit, „Concerned parents, cute. But do you two really think you can breach a ship that big? That‘s wishful thinking. I‘d like to see you try tho.“ „You haven‘t seen him in his element. Never seen so many dead Imps in the vicinity of one man.“ Your head went up and you went to give him a kiss on the cheek, closing your eyes for the duration to not break his creed. „Kaiku will take a while, so why don‘t you tell me about it?“ The guy leaned back. „Which time? There were like, three.“ „The best one.“ „Well, last week it is, Gideon really wanted this kid, so he sent two ships full of Imps for us. Probably 120 or more. I shot some, a friend of us shot some, but this one probably took care of two thirds of them alone. He looks pretty good in a field of dead Stormtroopers with his blaster still sizzling.“ You felt his hand grab into your thigh and put your hand on his. „You took out quite a few yourself, don‘t sell yourself too short.“ You heard Din‘s warm voice next to you. You looked into your lap, „I really just want the kid back.“ You felt his lips on your temple, „I know, darling. I know.“ „Boss, Kaiku is having a bit of trouble.“ A guard came over and the guy in front of you grumbled and excused himself. You felt a thumb caress your hand and took the arm you had around him and snaked it around his arm to have it snug against you. „D‘you think the dude wants to secretly kill us?“ He chuckled. „I wouldn‘t be surprised, sadly.“ You mumbled back. „Didn‘t have to make me look this good in front of strangers.“ He whispered to you. „I didn‘t lie for a second, you know that damn well.“ You felt his other hand under your chin. „Looking down makes you look submissive around this folk, don‘t want that, we’re getting the kid back.“ You sighed in agreement and fluttered your eyes open slowly to see dark brown ones reflect back soft, concerned and determined. „I‘m sorry.“ You whispered, he knew what you meant. „It‘s okay. Don‘t beat yourself up over it.“ He offered a small smile. The guy came back after a while, „He‘ll be done in a while. Get yourself drinks and enjoy yourself, yeah?“ You nodded and dragged Din out of his seat towards the little bar. With your hands you ordered two small drinks while he put a respectful amount of distance between the both of you again. Not too long after you were in your thoughts sipping your drink. Not noticing the man on your left. „Hey sweetpea, you here often?“ A tipsy man of another species looked at you. „Nope.“ „Wanna change that?“ You felt an arm slinging around you from behind protectively. „Nope.“ You answered with a sweet smile and leaned against the broad chest behind you. „Aww, c‘mon.“ He didn‘t give up. Usually Din would have his scary demeanor in his beskar armor, but that wasn‘t his out card this time. „Does that man make you uncomfortable, dear?“ Your heart beat a little harder at the affectionate name. „He surely doesn‘t know how to treat me right.“ You sighed before unexpectedly being turned around. You let out a giggle and put your arms around his neck, „Now this guy is way better.“ He softened at your slightly tipsy behavior, not that he didn‘t enjoy the whole front of being partners in the first place. No. He absolutely didn‘t like that. At all. It was horrible. Super bad. „Oh, is he?“ The drunken guy was still commenting in. „Yeah.“ You whispered and Din didn‘t quite know which god put him into this situation, but suddenly his lips were on yours and he hated himself for liking it. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was just a front. He knew he just broke his creed for his child. He hated that he liked what his brain just decided to do. Someone cleared their throat next to you and you went apart, looking at the boss here. He handed you a data stick, „Gonna put it right on your ships control panel. Now I‘d like your code.“ Din obliged to the terms and gave him his code, you didn‘t know if it really was, but he gave one. You hoped it was just one of his old bounty‘s code. „See you again when you got the rest of that money.“ He nodded at the helmetless man and got a nod back. Not too long after you were dragged out of the hut by him. You helped him with his headwrap, not saying a word. He saw the guilt written on your face, but didn‘t say anything. „Say it.“ He whispered. „I hate that I broke your creed and liked it. I hate that I liked any of it.“ You said short and firm, as if you were scolding yourself. Silence. There was nothing else you could add. That‘s all you felt right now. „I feel the same.“ He answered after a while of you walking towards the rendezvous spot. „I mean, my god you look beautiful.“ The words burst out of your deepest soul and he came to a hold to look at you with his thin cloth for his eyes removed. „And I made you look.“ He sighed, „So please don‘t put this on yourself. You were just trying to help get Grogu.“ More silence between you for the way back. „I‘m sorry for flirting with you.“ You mumbled and looked away. You were just playing your part to de-escalate. „Ouch.“ He commented. „No, no, it‘s just. I. I don‘t know. I wasn‘t supposed to do that. It wasn‘t necessary for the mission.“ You stumbled over your words. „I‘m sorry that I kissed you.“ He answered and that felt like he just put a vibroblade through your heart. „I didn‘t mind. I think.“ You didn‘t even know what was and wasn‘t okay anymore. „I‘m sorry I‘d do it again.“ He chuckled and looked over to you as you walked. „Me too.“ You smiled back at his shimmering eyes and then back to where you were going. „I would do all of this again.“ He whispered with a sigh, more to himself than you. „For someone with a tin can on your head since your teen years you kiss pretty good.“ You grinned. No comment. „And you‘re kinda more fun when there isn‘t a visor between us. I can actually see your reaction. That‘s groundbreaking. I love it.“ You chuckled. „I have a lot to think through with my creed and what I just did.“ He added. „You‘ll make the right decision.“ You said calmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before letting it go as you stopped at the meeting point. „The decision might be led by what you just did to my mind.“ He laughed lowly, it sounded beautiful. You looked around for Boba and Fennec, nobody in sight, so you went to his back and kissed the sliver of exposed skin there. „Cyar‘ika!“ He said with a warning tone. You didn‘t know what that meant. „I‘m sorry, I like teasing when I know I have an effect.“ „Oh, have I awakened something in you?“ „If you didn‘t notice by the way I talked about you killing Imps, yes.“ „Well, good that we‘ll have to kill some more.“

— Time Jump to End of Chapter 16

You didn‘t think someone was still coming for Grogu from the Jedi Temple. Now you stood here with no child, but a dumb saber that Bo-Katan won‘t take. Seeing him broken, helmetless, exposed, but with all this armor and that saber. That reflected your feelings somehow. You knew this had to happen, but it broke a part of you anyway and made you vulnerable. You turned to look at Din, took his head into your hands and let his forehead gently fall against yours. „It‘s okay.“ You felt him shake and pull you close to his chest. „You‘re the only thing left.“ He whispered as the rest went ahead to meet Boba. „I won‘t leave you unless you ever want me to.“ You whispered back before he grabbed your face and put his desperation for home into a kiss. „We need a new ship.“ He murmured. „I might know how to steal one.“ You chuckled and caressed his cheek. „That‘s my girl.“ His thumb went over your lower lip. Where did he learn that? Was that allowed? „You look even better when you wear everything but the helmet.“ You bit your lip. „Is that your version of distraction?“ He huffed and you nodded with a chuckle. You liked flirting too much. With that you flew back to Nevarro and got a neat little ship, stolen by you and Greef. You made sure to fill it up with cozy things, reminders of what was and signs of hope for the future. For now you‘d stay a bit on Nevarro with it. He searched the whole thing for trackers after the horror of what happened to the crest, but after a couple days he finally settled in and removed his helmet around you. „Oh, hey good-looking man in beskar, are you here often?“ You grinned from your cot when he walked into the center room of the ship. „Depends on what you want from me.“ He chuckled and shook his head. „You look pretty tense, I‘m sure I could change that.“ Now he blushed at the possibilities crossing his mind. „I‘m intrigued, cyar‘ika.“ He smirked and came closer. „I was thinking cuddling, but judging by your face you have other plans.“ You laughed and stood up to knock against his chest plate. His armor was gone shortly after, „I love this.“ You scrunched your nose and hugged him close, you really did like this. He looked so human, so warm and huggable. His gloveless hands wandered down your back, stopping for a second, before wandering where they really wanted to go. You betted with yourself that he was secretly a grabby man after what happened in that hut. Turns out you were right. With a swift motion he hoisted you up to have you wrap your legs around him. „I like this,“ He mumbled and felt you smile against his neck. „Me too.“ Your hands wandered through his hair and you felt him relax even more. He sat down on your cot with you still wrapped around him. „You, um, have nice thighs.“ He pointed out sheepishly. „You know you can grab them anytime, right?“ You asked him. „Now I do.“ He huffed and gently caressed them before giving them a squeeze. „You can touch me all you want.“ You reassured him and felt him grab you by your hips so you untangled and he could fall back onto your cot with you on top of him. „That goes for you too, cyare.“ He pulled you closer by your chin. „What does that mean?“ „Beloved. Darling. Something like that.“ Now he was the one watching you get flustered and grinned. „Oh.“ You blinked a couple times, „You‘ve been saying that a lot.“ „Of course,“ he murmured and went through your hair. „Have you ever thought about settling on a planet?“ You mumbled, laying on his chest and looking up at him. „Once or twice. I think a lot of things would catch up to me.“ His voice hummed in his chest below you. „And creating a family?“ You whispered and saw him open one of his eyes. „I had one for a while, didn‘t I?“ You smiled at him and nodded. „You still have me. I wouldn‘t mind adopting another one.“ A chuckle escaped both of you. „Maybe one that isn‘t chased by the empire.“ He laughed lowly and went over your head gently. „We could make one too one day.“ You added as casual as possible and felt him tense under you. „Not like I have that many years left to do that.“ He pointed out with a huff. „Who said it would take many years?“ You whispered and crawled up on him to nuzzle into his neckline. „Where‘d you wanna settle?“ His arms snaked around you. „Preferably somewhere that isn‘t attacked every two years.“ Your muffled voice answered. „Now where‘s the fun in that, cyar‘ika?“ You kissed his neck and heard him hold his breath. „More than enough fun to have.“ You grabbed into his hair gently and felt his fingers grab into your hips. „I see.“ He murmured and closed his eyes again to enjoy your warmth. „Home is wherever you wanna go, my dear.“ He sighed and slowly dozed off.

___

Reblog to support a content creator.

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x you #Din Djarin x y/n #The Mandalorian #sw #star wars #mando #Din x Reader #Din x you #Din x y/n #Mando x Reader #Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfiction #Mandoa #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #mando x you #mando x y/n #text #mine

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 8

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1724

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Mentions of past abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 9: Then

“Welcome to the ring, the man who can’t miss - Hawkeye!”

The crowd cheered and Clint cantered his horse out into the ring, he climbed up, so he was standing and waved to the crowd as he did a lap.

“And the girl he can’t seem to hit, Sugar Snap!”

You rode out, first flipping off the front of your horse and then back on again, before bringing your horse up beside his, so the two of you were riding, standing up, side-by-side.  “Ready?”  Clint said.

“Always,” you replied.

You sat back down and spurred the horse on.  As you took the lead on Clint, you collected your bow and an arrow from one of the clowns standing at the side of the ring.  Clint did the same as he passed them and watched as you got into the handstand position on your moving horse.  The crowd went deadly silent as you knocked your arrow with your feet, Clint got into the same position.  You loosed the arrow as you passed the target, hitting it dead center.  The crowd erupted in applause but before it even reached its peak, Clint loosed his arrow with his feet and it hit yours, splitting the shaft right down the middle.

The crowd went berserk.  You and Clint, both vaulted off your horses and landed side by side in the middle of the ring, your arms raised.  You bowed together, first to one side of the crowd and then the other, soaking in the applause.

You were 18 now, and the act was flawless.  The ringmaster always had you opening these days, and it had been a long time since anyone had approached either of you about doing any of their criminal dealings.  There had been an incident a year back where Clint had discovered Jacques with a load of stolen money and when he’d gone to turn the swordsman in, Jacques attempted to kill him.  Clint had ended up with two broken legs, and his brother Barney had left the circus to go to college to get away from everything the circus was not long after that.  He had asked Clint to go with him, but Clint had been so high on this rush of what he could only call fame, that there was no way he could let it go now.

Besides, he had Eden and he knew that if he left the circus it would mean leaving her too and he was not willing to do that.

Some of the clowns brought the rest of the equipment in and Clint put his quiver on his back and grabbed his bow.  The next part of the act was about precision archery, acrobatics, perfect timing, and making sure he selected the correct arrow for each shot.

He turned and aimed an arrow so it looked as if it was aiming at you, but was in fact aiming at a small target stuck to one of the tent poles just next to the audience.  Close enough that they could all see how he hit the target and that it would feel like they were at risk, but not so close that there was in any risk at all.

You ran backward and did a backflip, just as you launched yourself up off the ground, Clint loosed the arrow and it sailed under you, hitting the center of the target with a thud as you landed back on your feet.  You began to run around the outside of the arena, and he loosed arrow after arrow in front of you, and you flipped over each one again and again, to the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the crowd while each arrow hit the target perfectly.

When you reached the target board, Clint changed the arrows.  He began to loose them so each hit about a foot apart and a foot higher than the last, forming steps up the board.  You climbed them as they hit, so it appeared as if you were stepping into the air and he was catching you with the arrows.  When you reached the high wire platform above, Clint moved into a different routine.

He hit moving targets, including pinning three small targets that swung down from three different directions and pinning them together with one arrow.  He hit targets while he was flipping from one platform to another.  All the while soaking in the attention from the crowd.  Above him, you were getting into a harness that would only be visible to the keenest of eyes.

When you were secure, you began dropping things on him.  He started by quickly loosing arrows, sometimes three or four at a time, and pinning each item you dropped to a different target around the tent.  Then he switched, dropping his bow and arrow and picking up a sword, as each item fell from above he sliced it in half.

A few of the clowns came out with big trench coats on and carrying umbrellas.  You began dropping water balloons on them and while everyone was distracted, Clint put on his special trenchcoat and hat. It was the one designed for the finale of the routine.  It had a locking mechanism in the arm that allowed him to catch you on the blade of a sword without his arm jerking on impact.

A huge bag of confetti dropped and exploded, queuing the clowns to scatter.  You dropped a few more things down on him, letting Clint use his left arm to slice them in two, to show the crowd that the sword was real and not blunt.

Then you jumped.  You spun in the air, corkscrewing down toward him, he brandished his sword, and when you hit the springboard, you jumped up and flipped.  Clint switched hands and lunged forward, the elbow mechanism locking in place so the flat of the blade was facing up.  You landed on it, sending a shock through his arm.  Everyone clapped and you curtsied while standing on the blade.  Clint moved to grab you in a large over-exaggerated way and you backflipped catching the brim of his hate with your toe and flipping it off his head.  You landed and ran forward, catching the hat on your head.

The crowd erupted, everyone getting to their feet and cheering for you both.  You helped Clint off with his coat and both of you bowed as your horses cantered back into the ring.  You each ran to your horse and vaulted onto it’s back, taking a lap.  Maynard entered the ring with his whip and took his spot on a podium in the middle as the clowns rushed in and cleaned up.  “Let’s hear it again, for Hawkeye and Sugar Snap!’

The crowd applauded more and Clint followed you out of the ring.  “And now, our very own Garden of Eden!”  Maynard called, and Eden ran out past Clint, winking as she passed him.

Clint got off his horse and rolled his shoulders as you approached him.  “I think I need to work on that first jump.  I felt that arrow,” you said.

“You always say that, and I always tell you it’s in your head,” Clint teased.  He walked over to the lip of the curtain and looked out at Eden as she did her contortion act.  You stepped up beside him.

“Just before I came out, Jacques approached her and said something about some art job,” you said.

Clint bristled.  He’d been hearing rumors about an art job for the past few days.  He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, mostly because he just tried to steer clear of all of that.  There had definitely been a meeting with some art guy and the Ringmaster.  Clint had remembered seeing the bald man with his black turtleneck and rectangular framed glasses talking to Tiboldt about the circus performers coming to some art museum as part of a charity gig.  “She’s probably going to be part of that charity gig.”

You shrugged.  “Yeah, maybe.”

Clint turned and looked at you.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” you said, though he wasn’t convinced.

Clint had managed to get you to legal age without any more explicit photos being taken, but he knew Jacques still had a habit of sniffing around you.  Barely legal wasn’t as good as illegal, but it would still make him money, and you had other things to offer now.  The ability to parkour was a huge advantage to them, and you were very good with a blade.  Clint knew that while the act was as good as it was, Jacques couldn’t threaten to have you kicked out, but he could offer you things and Clint wasn’t totally sure if you would always say no.  Not if it was something like breaking and entering, and if this was some scam being organized by Tiboldt, then he was the boss, and if he said jump, you jumped.

“Sugar?”  Clint pressed.

You huffed.  “Wanted me to help him break in and help them steal some art.  Said Tiboldt wanted everyone on the job.”

“Sugar!”  Clint yelped.

“I said no!”  You said.  “Who wants a bunch of dusty old paintings anyway?”

“You think he’s trying to recruit Eden?”  Clint asked.

You shrugged again.  “Probably.  Or Tiboldt already has and he was just passing on a message.”

Clint sighed, he wanted to believe that she wouldn’t be involved in anything like that, but love and trust were not things that were linked very strongly for him.  “She wouldn't, would she?”  He asked.

You shrugged again.  “I dunno, Clint.  You know her better than me.  I do know that just about everyone else here would.”

He shook his head and stepped away from the curtain.  “I’m gonna take a shower.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded and didn’t say anything.  Just as he moved away he looked back at you.  “Hey… thanks… you know…?  For letting me know.”

You nodded and folded your hands over your chest.  “Anytime, Clint.  You know that.  It’s me and you.”

Clint wasn’t so sure about that.  He’d believed it before about other people who had let him down.  But as he sized you up, he thought maybe of all the people in this circus he was supposed to think of as family, you might be the one that fit the description best.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

[rocorambles]

A Boy You Used to Know

Pairing: Hinata x reader 

Genre: Yandere, Mafia AU, Murder, Torture, Stealing, Kidnapping, Implied NSFW, Implied Rape/Non-con/Dub-con

Summary: You desperately scan the face next to you, searching for even a hint of the man you once loved. But your search always comes out empty and in the end, you force yourself to sleep, temporarily escaping in your dreams of a radiantly warm and smiling orange haired boy you used to know.      

Requested by Anon

Hinata and you pant as you race down alleyways, dodge people, and frantically look back to see if you’d lost the officers chasing you. Adrenaline, fear, and hunger fuel your desperation as both of you clutch to the meager stale bread and near spoilt apples you’d stolen from one of the markets. It hardly makes sense that a squad of officers are chasing a couple of urchins like you for taking such low value items, but you both know better. You know they’re looking to make an example of the two of you. An example for the rest of the unfortunate poor that littered the streets. 

But although they’re bigger, stronger, faster than Hinata and you, they’re not as nimble, not as lithe and you use that to your advantage. The two of you slip under people’s legs, sneak through hidden nooks and crannies and you both sigh in relief when you near the edge of the inner city. Even if they bothered to chase you here (although you doubt they would...there are much worse things in this part of town than a couple of street orphans), they’d never be able to navigate the back alleys and lanes like you two. And sure enough, as you both cross the hidden line into the dark underbelly you hear their shouting fade in the distance as they curse you before turning back around and leaving you alone. 

The two of you keep on racing towards home and only when the two of you enter the abandoned warehouse and lock the doors do you collapse and ravenously eat your plunder. With the hunger pangs now at bay for a little bit, Hinata and you make eye contact and you smile. Smiles turn into laughter and despite the rags you wear, the dirt smeared across your faces and bodies, and the chill of the cold, empty building, the both of you take comfort in the fact that neither of you are facing everything alone. You still have each other. 

The years pass and now the two of you are young adults in your early twenties. The stakes are higher and the law isn’t as kind towards you, not that it ever was really kind. So, as the more responsible of the two, you find a job as a waitress at a dingy tavern a couple of blocks away from the warehouse you still live in. The pay isn’t great and sometimes the men harass you, especially in the middle of the night when they’ve drank too much, but it’s a honest job that brings in enough steady money for Hinata and you to survive. You can’t say the same for your orange haired friend, lover, boyfriend? You’re still not sure exactly what Hinata and you are. It’s a question that lurked and grew as the two of you became adults. All of a sudden sharing living quarters together and huddling together for warmth seemed to have a different connotation and neither of you miss the longing look in each other’s eyes, but you’re also now more at odds than you’ve ever been before.

You can’t even keep track of the fights and shouting anymore. You tried to bring Hinata in as a busboy or even a dishwasher at the tavern you work at, but no matter where you tried to find him a job, it just never panned out for various reasons. But you know better than to trust any of the excuses Hinata tells you. You see how his eyes dull as he repeats tedious tasks and the way he scowls at the pitiful pay for his hard work. You remember how his eyes used to light up when the two of you had still been kids stealing whatever your grubby hands could grab and how he’d grin when you went over your loot back at home. You know he’ll never be satisfied with a real job unless it can bring him the same excitement as his criminal ways. So you watch as he comes home from riskier and riskier runs with bruises and cuts all over his body and the two of you scream at each other, you sick to death with worry that one day he won’t make it back home and him frustrated that you can’t just be happy that he’s providing for the two of you. But at the end of the night, when both your throats are hoarse and there are no more words, you put your anger aside and hold each other tight, still grateful to have each other. 

Hinata carefully scopes the area outside of Ukai’s market. He’s grateful to the man and he has no plans to steal from him. Despite his rough outer appearance with his piercings and bleached hair, Ukai had kept an eye out for him and you, always sure to forcefully shove free food into your hands when he sees either of you around his shop. No, he’s not interested in biting the hand that fed him. He’s more interested in the men in expensive suits who he’s seen in increasing numbers, walking around the inner city like they own it and maybe they do. They certainly look rich enough to and Hinata isn’t blind to the way the local residents cower in fear when they walk past. But Hinata’s never been good at resisting the thrill of danger and he slowly inches closer to the men hovering around Ukai’s front door, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. His hand reaches out to a back pocket and he’s so close his fingertips can almost graze the wallet he sees sticking out when he’s slammed into the ground by a leather clad foot. 

A muscled man with brown eyes grins down at him as he shoves the heel of his shoes further into Hinata’s ribs. “Suga, you’re getting sloppy. You were really going to let this runt get away with stealing from you?” The silver haired man who Hinata had been reaching for just laughs and shrugs his shoulder. “Why do I need to be careful when I know your sharp eyes are always watching out for us, Daichi?” 

Hinata trembles in fear as the man on top of him, Daichi he supposes, pulls out a gun and points it at him. “I don’t like killing someone who’s barely an adult, but I can’t just let anyone think they can take from us. Sorry, kid.” Hinata shuts his eyes, but a loud shout interrupts them and suddenly he sees Ukai standing in between him and the barrel. 

“Wait, Sawamura. Please don’t kill him. He’s a brat, but surely you could find some use for him? He’s quick, brave, and knows this area like the back of his hand. I’m sure he could be an asset in your line of work.” 

Daichi hums in thought, but both Ukai and Hinata let out their held breaths as he finally tucks his gun away. “Come on, kid. We’re going to need to get you up to speed as quickly as possible if you’re going to be of any use to us. Welcome to the Karasuno Mafia.” And as Ukai watches the smaller male leave, sandwiched by the taller men, he wonders if he made the right decision and he sends a prayer to whoever’s listening to watch over the boy he’s grown fond of. 

Anxiety and worry eat at you as you restlessly twist and turn on the floor, sleep escaping you as you wait another night for Hinata to return. You haven’t seen him for days now and you had visited everyone you knew, every establishment you could think of that Hinata would be at, but the only answer you got finally from Ukai was that he was fine. He had refused to say anything more no matter how much you pleaded, but Ukai had never once lied to you, so his words brought some peace to you. Yet his words couldn’t replace the empty space beside you and your eye stays glued to the door, hoping to see it open and when it does, you scramble towards it, throwing yourself into Hinata’s arms before he can even fully enter. You release him when he laughs and tells you he can’t breathe, but you go still when you take the sight of him in. You instantly recognize the suit he wears having seen your boss pay his dues to the mafia on multiple occasions and you feel anger rise again within you.

“Don’t you know what they do?”

“Sawamura said I wouldn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to.” 

“Oh, right, because the mafia’s in the habit of just letting you do whatever you want. Don’t be stupid, Hinata!”

“Why can’t you just be supportive of the fact that I’m bringing in more money for us? Aren’t you tired of living in this dump? Don’t you want to live in a real apartment? House? I’m doing it for you, for us.” 

It’s the same argument just with a new intensity behind it and you’re disappointed in yourself for giving in like you always do, but you’ve never been able to completely deny the big pleading eyes Hinata’s perfected over the years and with a resigned sigh you agree to move into the mafia complex with him, with a warning that you’d leave as soon as he went beyond his usual petty crimes. Surprisingly, it seems that Daichi keeps to his words and Hinata tells you about going around town collecting protection money and stealing things here and there. You roll your eyes, but hold your tongue. You still don’t approve, but you can live with Hinata acting as some type of tax collector and stealing. You know it’s the best you can hope for in the situation he’s in and if you’re honest, you can’t deny it’s nice to sleep in an actual bed and have more than two outfits to alternate between. 

Life continues on until you wake up in the middle of the night as a loud clap of thunder echoes throughout the room. Groggily you try to fall under sleep’s spell once more, but another roar of thunder crackles and you grumble as you sit up. You turn to see if the sounds have woken Hinata as well, but you’re stunned when you find the space beside you empty. You’re still not fond of walking around the mafia complex by yourself. The rest of the Karasuno mafia you’ve met have been pleasant enough, but unease stirs within you thinking of some of the unspeakable crimes they’ve committed. However, you’ve always been curious by nature, especially where Hinata is concerned, so you pad your way out of your room as you search for your rambunctious lover. 

You’re not quite sure where to go and you amble aimlessly down the halls until you hear a loud sound or was that just another thunderbolt? You pause but in between the familiar crackles of thunder you hear the sound again and your feet instinctively move towards it until you enter a wing you’ve always avoided. The wing where the group does most of their work. You hesitate, but as the sounds continue you can’t help yourself from inching forward until you’re right in front of a narrowly propped open door. You peek in and instantly cover your mouth with both hands trying to hold back the scream that threatens to escape. 

Crimson splatters. Agonized screams. Your body shakes as you take in the suited men pointing guns at the bound people kneeling on the floor. Well, the remaining ones at least. You feel yourself go faint at the pool of blood spreading from the figures already limp on the floor. 

“Hinata, why don’t you take the next one? It’s been awhile since your last kill.” 

It’s been awhile? Hinata’s killed before? Your thoughts are spinning as you keep on staring despite every cell in your body urging you to turn around and pretend this never happened, but it’s like you’re in a trance as you watch the man you love step forward. Your heart sinks as you see the feral grin that adorns his face and the gleam in his eyes as he cocks his gun. 

“My pleasure.” 

You bite your lip so hard it begins to bleed in an attempt to not cry out as you see his finger pull the trigger and another man collapses to the ground and you finally find strength in your legs to run back to your room as the men whoop and holler, congratulating and praising him for the clean shot. The next moments are a blur as your heart beats so strong, so rapidly that you think it might tear itself right out of you. All you can think of is getting as far as you can from here and your fingers tremble as you stuff a bag with the essentials. As you run out of the complex, for once you’re thankful for the thunderstorm, the thunder masking the sounds of your escape and the rain hiding your tracks and the tears that stream your face. 

It’s not easy starting life from scratch, but what choice do you have? You make the long journey to Nekoma. You’d rather not live in a place that has anything to do with a mafia, but the only places within traveling distance are all governed by one. At least Nekoma was far enough that you knew Karasuno wouldn’t have much reason to visit often, if at all. You find another job as a waitress and months pass as you settle down in the new city. You begin making friends, venturing out, and although a tiny sliver within you still misses Hinata, you know the Hinata you fell in love with no longer exists and you take pleasure in finally living your own life and learning more about yourself. 

Life is amazing and you feel your defenses lower. You begin to forget the fear that had you always looking over your shoulder and around you. You begin to forget the feeling of running from something, from someone. You begin to forget the nightmares of corpses and blood that ravaged your dreams for so many nights. So you think nothing of it when your doorbell rings and you open the door without even looking out of the view hole. In hindsight, you’ll regret that for many years to come. 

You freeze when you see the three men in your doorway. Daichi and Kuroo, the head of Nekoma, have always had an intimidating commanding aura about them, but it’s Hinata who’s coldly staring at you who has the most impact and you try and slam the door shut as a malicious smile begins to spread across his face. The familiar cocking of a gun makes you stop your futile struggling and you quietly reopen the door and Hinata takes that as his cue to draw nearer and tilt your head up to look at him.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Your heart flutters, but you try and shove his unmoving body away from you. “Hinata, please, I don’t want to go back. Just let me go. Whatever we had is over. How did you even find me?” You wince as his hold on your jaw tightens, effectively shutting you up. “Sawamura and Kuroo are good friends, so when I sent out a search notice for you in all the territories, it was only going to be a matter of time before one of his men recognized you. It’s funny that you think you have a choice in this, honey. You think you could just get away with betraying me, stomping all over my heart, abandoning me? You’re going to regret ever thinking any of that was okay.” You struggle to escape his hold, but a pointed jab of a gun in your side has you behaving instantly and instead you silently plead to the two bosses behind Hinata. Daichi shrugs. “Hinata’s become quite a valuable asset to the family. I promised I’d reward him.” Kuroo smiles. “You’re pretty, darling, but not pretty enough to start a gang war over. Your stay in Nekoma is over.” And with those final words, you sob as Hinata wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you along to the black tinted car parked outside your building.

You spend the entire car ride in Hinata’s lap, his arms practically squeezing the air out of you as he wraps himself around you, not allowing you to move even an inch. You tense at the feeling of his teeth and mouth latching onto your neck, biting, kissing, and licking every inch, leaving a collar of marks, but memories of what pain and malice the men around you are capable of keep you obedient. Even when Hinata drags you to your old shared bedroom and tears your clothes off, ruthlessly plundering your body again and again, reminding you exactly who you belong to, where you belong, you don’t fight back. Even when he drags you with him to his meetings and duties and gives you a front row seat of torture and death, you don’t think about escaping. Only at night when Hinata is soundly asleep and your used body lies limp beside him, painted with bite marks and bruises with every hole aching, do you desperately scan the face next to you, searching for even a hint of the man you once loved. But your search always comes out empty and in the end, you force yourself to sleep, temporarily escaping in your dreams of a radiantly warm and smiling orange haired boy you used to know.     

#haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #hinata x reader #haikyuu mafia #haikyuu #hinata #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #tw: noncon #tw: rape

[longitudinalwaveme]

Longitudinalwaveme Reviews Some More Old Comics (and One New One), Part 2

Batman #321, “Dreadful Birthday, Dear Joker...!” 

The story opens with Commissioner Gordon receiving an invitation to the Joker’s birthday party. “Black tie optional, funny hats mandatory”. A few seconds later, everyone in police headquarters doubles over laughing, the victims of Joker’s, well, Joker gas. 

Batman is on the scene only a few seconds later, and starts punching out Joker’s goons. Unfortunately, by the time he’s finished doing this, both Joker and Commissioner Gordon have disappeared. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Ah---the Batman! What an expected surprise! And what a waste of a perfectly good window! Couldn’t you have used the door?” 

As Joker leaves in his Jokermobile, the police officers tell Batman that the Joker also captured Robin earlier that day (by pretending to be a woman with car problems!) 

Meanwhile, Selina Kyle, Lucius Fox, and Alfred are talking when the Joker bursts in and kidnaps them as well. Notably, Selina mentions that she’s been having terrible headaches. 

Selina Kyle wakes up in a room with Batman; the other kidnapees wake up in the Joker’s “Ha-Hacienda” on his “victim-go-round”. 

Eminently Quotable Joker: “Tomorrow is my birthday, and by way of celebration, I intend to eliminate all you who’ve crossed me, while all of Gotham watches! It’s not exactly the catcher’s mitt I really wanted...but it’s a pretty fair second place! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

Hawkman stars in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

The Joker murders one of his own henchman with his “BANG!” flag gun for not laughing at his joke. 

Eminently Quotable Joker (in response to Robin saying “You’re out of your mind!”): “Gloriously so! Isn’t it wonderful?” 

In order to get his audience, the Joker put an ad in the newspaper that states that the “Harlequin Baking Company” will be inviting all of Gotham to  sample its wares at the Seaside Coliseum. AND IT WORKS, because everyone in Gotham has the IQ of turnips. A bazillion people come to the Coliseum to get free food. 

Joker dramatically reveals himself to everyone and explains that he’s going to blow up all the people he hates with a giant cake bomb. Then Batman arrives and offers himself in exchange for the other hostages. This goes exactly how you’d expect it to go, but Batman manages Batman his way out of the trap, saving both himself and all of his friends. 

Joker runs away and jumps into a boat. Batman follows him, they fight for a bit, and then the Joker apparently blows himself up. But he’s not dead, because nothing can kill the Joker. Batman even says so. 

This would’ve made a great episode of B:TAS. 

Batman #322, “Chaos--Coming and Going!” 

And now for something completely different! 

Catwoman looks at a bunch of old newspaper clippings of herself, as the comic hints fairly subtly that she might be unwell (just as her headaches last issue did). 

Meanwhile, a van is delivering issues of the tabloid The Gotham Guardian...when a thrown bundle of newspapers is intercepted by a boomerang! Captain Boomerang is in Gotham City! 

The two men in the van react by promptly trying to run Digger over....only for him to slice their van in half with a boomerang!

Digger yells at them to tell their boss that this was only a warning: the mysterious boss owes him a million dollars, and he wants it in 24 hours or else. 

Then Batman shows up out of nowhere and he and Boomerang get into a fight. Digger distracts Batman by using his exploding boomerang to damage a nearby building. This causes some rubble to fall on one of the drivers. Batman goes to rescue him, and Digger vanishes. 

Green Arrow stars in a Hostess fruit pie ad! 

Batman talks to Alfred about Captain Boomerang, telling him to ask Lucius Fox to find out who owns the Guardian, since he’s probably Boomerang’s next target. He also refuses to call the Flash in for help. “The night I can’t handle a punk like Boomerang is the night I hang up my cowl!” 

Catwoman goes to a doctor and it’s confirmed that she is, in fact, dying. She has less than a month to live and the only cure is some Egyptian herbs that have been lost to time. 

Meanwhile, Captain Boomerang lets us know that he hates Gotham. “Lor’, but I hate this cronky town! I never would’ve come her from Central City if it wasn’t for my million quid!” 

Apparently, Captain Boomerang set up a retirment fund for himself and is ticked off that has money was subsequently stolen. 

“It’s really rum--downright ironic! The one time I play the game by their rules--and it’s me who gets taken for a sucker! Well, nobody crosses “Digger” Harkness--and gets away with it intact!” That’s our Digger! 

Also, he has a giant boomerang hidden under a tarp. 

Catwoman goes to the museum to see a display about cats...and conveniently, some ancient Egyptian medicinal herbs are there. Catwoman determines to take them so she can save herself. 

Batman asks the most Irish Irishman to ever walk the pages of the comic book about where he might be able to find Captain Boomerang, but he hasn’t heard anything. Then Alfred calls Batman and tells him that Lucius has discovered that the Gotham Guardian is owned by a corporation which serves as a front for a guy named Gregorian Falstaff. 

The man in question is eating dinner at a hotel when he is rudely interrupted by Captain Boomerang, who knocks out Falstaff’s bodyguard and demands his money. Falstaff plays dumb, claiming that the whole thing was an unfortunate accident and offering to write him a check. Boomerang insists that it’s cash or nothing (since he doesn’t trust Falstaff). Then Batman shows up, and Digger throws a smoke bomb boomerang that distracts Batman long enough for him to knock him out with another boomerang. 

“You gave it a fair dinkum try, cobber-but fair ain’t enough when  you’re dealin’ with the likes of me!’” Didgeridoo! Crikey! Steve Irwin! Can you tell I’m Australian yet? 

Selina Kyle tries to call Bruce but can’t get ahold of him, so she decides to take matters into her own hands and pulls out her Catwoman costume. 

When Batman comes to, he’s been tied to the giant boomerang. 

“Nothin’ permanent, mate--you’re simply tied to my giant rocket-powered boomerang! Only Flash’s super-speed saved him from the original--and without super-powers you’ll never escape this improved version!” So...which one of the giant boomerangs you used to launch the Flash into space are we talking about here, Digger? Because there’ve been at least four at this point. 

Boomerang launches the boomerang into the air and it explodes. Digger is naturally convinced that he’s killed Batman, only for Batman to promptly prove him wrong by showing up alive and well. “Nobody could possibly survive a flight on my Doomerang!” Oh, Digger...

Batman explains that he survived by “maneuvering my bonds toward the Doomerang’s rocket-jets--and the ignition-flames freed me! Then I simply slipped away under the cover of all that smoke before the Doomerang took off!” I love that Batman also calls the thing a Doomerang (with a totally straight face, mind you.) 

Then Digger throws a boomerang at Batman at the same time Batman throws a Batarang at him. But because Batman is Batman, he wins the boomerang duel and knocks Digger out. Way to take away Digger’s only accomplishment there, Batman. It’s like if Superman won any of his races against the Flash. 

Batman decides to investigate Falstaff. 

Meanwhile, at the museum, someone who looks like Catwoman is stealing one of the exhibits....

Flash #286, “The Color Schemes of the Rainbow Raider”

This issue introduces the greatest villain of all time...the dreaded Rainbow Raider! 

After a long day at work, Barry Allen is heading home...only for an alarm to go off at the Centrex Art Museum! Barry has to promptly go into action as the Flash as Barry thinks about how tired he is. Apparently, his new police chief, Darryl Frye, has made him work overtime three times in one week alone. 

Suddenly, a rainbow appears, bewildering Barry, as it hasn’t rained for the past week. Barry runs inside the museum to find the guards crying inexplicably. Barry deduces that the thief has been altering their emotions and realizes that this is probably not one of his established Rogues. 

Sure enough, he soon comes face-to-face with the Rainbow Raider!

“Welcome, Flash! I didn’t think you and I would be meeting so soon...but sooner or later we were bound to clash! Allow me to introduce myself! I am the Rainbow Raider---the most colorful criminal this city’s ever seen!” Oh, Roy. You’re so amazingly silly, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Roy shoots a beam of blue light at Barry, who somehow deduces that this was what enabled him to mess with the emotions of the guards. Barry dodges the blast of blue light, but it hit and knocked out by a blast of black light. 

The police are suitably baffled by the Rainbow Raider, who, incidentally, signed his crime scene with “The Rainbow Raider was here!” That’s amazing. 

Meanwhile, the Flash runs home, for the Rainbow Raider has...uh....sucked all of the color out of his body! Somehow! Wha? 

Meanwhile, in a mobile trailer, Roy is gloating to himself. “Now I know I’m ready for the big leagues--on a par with seasoned criminals like Captain Cold and Mirror Master!” Uh...sure, Roy. 

Batman and Catman star in a Hostess cupcake ad! 

“Roy G. Bivolo is compelled by higher motivations--like art appreciation!” 

Roy reveals that he suffers from achromotopsia, a rare form of colorblindness that means he sees the world entirely in greyscale. This fact apparently scuppered his burgeoning artistic career, because the art critics of Central City have never heard of black-and-white artwork even though it totally exists. 

Also, Roy’s dad was apparently a, quote, “leading world-renowned optometrist”, and he tried to create goggles that would allow Roy to see color. He passed away shortly after Roy turned 21; having finished the googles just days before. 

When Roy tested them a few weeks later, he found that they hadn’t cured his colorblindness...but that they could shoot out “bands of multi-colored solid light particles that I could literally “ride” through the sky”. Roy then uses his father’s notes to unlock even more abilities with his goggles. Eventually, his mother also passed away, and Roy decided to turn to crime. 

“Since I was robbed of a brilliant art career as a painter--I think it’s only fitting that I rob others....rob them of the pleasure they’ve derived all these years from priceless works of art I myself have never been able to enjoy! If I can’t see them in all their glory---then neither will anyone else!” Roy...that’s insane. 

Barry Allen fails in his attempt to flirt with Fiona Webb, then exposits about pseudoscience. “The color black appears black because it absorbs the light waves of all other colors...without reflecting them! Those black beams the Rainbow Raider enveloped me with must’ve had a similar effect--saturating my body with radiation that prevents me from reflecting any and all light-waves...leaving me totally colorless!” SCIENCE! 

Barry uses makeup and hair day to make himself look normal. As a result, he’s 20 minutes late to work and gets chewed out by his boss. 

Also: “The unnatural inner-vibrations from this color drain are steadily sapping more and more energy from my molecules by the minute!” More SCIENCE! 

Barry is about to get to work when he hears about the opening of the Skytop Art Gallery. Assuming that this would be an ideal target for the Rainbow Raider, he goes into action as the Flash. 

Roy has created a distraction by using his emotional manipulation powers to get all of the art patrons to fight each other while he escapes. Barry runs up a building and onto Rainbow Raider’s rainbow...whereupon Raider shoots a blinding light at him, causin him to slip off the rainbow and almost fall to his doom. Luckily, his ability to vibrate through anything saves his life, as he manages to vibrate through a green car he was about to land on. 

Barry then finds that he’s turned totally green. ‘I must’ve been vibrating on the precise wavelength of the color green when I passed through this heap--somehow allowing me to regain my capacity to absorb green light-waves!” SCIENCE! He then starts running through vehicles of other colors to regain his capacity to absorb those light-waves, too. Since Raider is colorblind, he can’t figure out what the Flash is up to. 

When Raider takes one last blast at the Flash, the effects restore him to normal, and Flash is able to make quick work of the Rainbow Raider. 

I love the Rainbow Raider so much.

#flash comics #batman comics #dc comics