#life’s really hammering in that I’m all grown up now huh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kittiestkat · 2 years

Text

from old blog

dark content : stepcest

(i will insert the header when i can b bothered to make it :p)

again!” the incessant shouting and slaps of skin on polyester rang through your ears as you sat on one of the benches, legs swinging.

boxing wasn’t your forte, actually, any physical exercise at all wasn’t your favourite thing ever. at all for that matter.

“again!” the black haired brute shouted once more, praising the man he was training when his throw sounded a particularly loud ‘shmack’.

as much as your mother would scold you, you couldn’t deny that coming here was boring, your iphone games no longer satisfying the short spanned part of your brain.

tugging at your pleated skirt, you yawned, stretching your arms above you, exposing a slither of bronzed skin that enticed the person next to you to start speaking to you.

“good trainer isn’t he.” the man questioned, no, stated. he was bald, grey scruff framing a sunken down face.

“excuse me?” you question, head tilting to the side in confusion as to why this man was prying conversation from you. conversation you’d much prefer spent with megumi, if your phone wasn’t fucking dead.

“your dad,” he said, eyes flickering to the frilly socks you were sporting, his lips calling upwards as he tried gaging in what type of person you were.

ten dollars the word ‘lolita’ flit through his head.

“good trainer, huh?”

‘he’s not my dad.’

at least that’s what you would have said. your head turns, eyes zoning in on the tall man, unmoving as he held two matte black focus pads in his hands. no matter how hard the trainee punched he didn’t budge. not once.

“sure is.” you roll your eyes.

“be nice okay, they’re lovely and i don’t want them getting the wrong impression of you.” you didn’t appreciate your mum speaking so lowly of you. you loved her, sure. but right now you wanted to do nothing more than throw a tantrum.

it wasn’t like you went and fucked another man, got married and abandoned your old life for flashy cars and fake smiles. bitch.

three knocks on the door and the wood was swung open. a young boy with thick, black, unruly hair stood, looking…bored? great, another moron.

you rolled your eyes, wanting to gouge them out at your mums sickly sweet, completely inorganic, voice.

“fushi!” she beams, arms wide as she wraps him in a one sided hug.

“where’s your father, darling?” like he sensed her presence, a tall shadow came from the room directly in front of you, which you presumed to be the living room, kitchen even.

you had to admit, even you were a little surprised.

how did she bag that?

“baby!” your mother said, voices a hundred octaves higher. gross.

the man was tall, really fucking tall. six two maybe? taller even.

he was big, big shoulders, big hands, big smile. his top did nothing to hide his taught waist, the slim frame of it clearly sporting many muscles. not that you cared, his soon to be daughter.

your mum draped round him like some sort of bimbo accessory. the boy next to you scoffed. as much as you hated to admit it, your attitude to this situation was like his, as much as you whined and protested, the prospect of a new mother made your eyes twinkle, dimly, but there none the less.

“you must be y/n,” the man grinned, eyes wide, he looked like he genuinely was excited to meet you. he was still fucking intimidating.

your heart was hammering against your chest, you had grown annoyed at your body for being excited at the fact you were going to have a father figure, a new friend.

“i’m toji.” you shuffled on your feet a few times. you only mumbled in response, flustered; pinning it on the aspect of having a new entire family, not the tall man in front of you.

you could feel your mums anger when you didn’t speak, her mouth opening to scold you.

squeezing her sides, his voice in a low murmur, toji told your mum to lay off you, well not those exact words but along those lines. your eyes snapped up to the person towering over you. he was…defending you? tch, probably to win you over. you couldn’t help the small smile the crept on your face. you had to lower your head so your curls draped in front of your face.

“pleasure meeting you y/n.” he winked at you light-heartedly, his voice soft and warm and everything and more. your heart was only beating from nerves. that’s all.

“this is my little boy,” he pulled the lanky boy into his side, enjoying his groan at the teasing name. even you cracked a smile.

“say hi fushi.” he mocked your mums previous name with friendly intentions.

the boy kicks his feet, strands of hair covering his face like your own as he said a small mutter of his name. god you were both as bad as each other.

“what do you say back?” your mum said, trying to not lose her patience at you. it was like you were five all over again.

“y/n.” was all you gave. toji squeezes your mum to his side, nodding his head for you all to go to the dining room, the fumes of cooked food enticing you.

“cute name for a cute girl.” you blinked up at him, his back turned to you. whatever.

you still couldn’t believe you had been dragged out of bed to watch your dad train some sweaty balls of muscle.

over the course for these past months you had gotten more comfortable, surprisingly megumi had become your best friend. you were inseparable.

that’s when the name started to appear. habit learnt from fushiguro.

“daddy likes showing off.” you said, eyes still on your father. the man probably came in his pants right then and there. old fuck.

before you could tease with him any more, proving his misogynistic stereotype of you true, your name was called.

grabbing a ice-cold bottle of water from he fridge, you walk towards the ring.

“i’m not going to keep handing you stuff if you kill the guy.” you joke, earning a grin from toji, who doesn’t miss the way you tug at your short skirt, shuffling. toji still intimidated you, the drops of sweat falling down strands of his hair enticed you. your father was fucking beautiful.

as he was about to speak, the panting man behind him spoke. his face wasn’t that flushed from the exercise, you could tell that much. creep.

“she yours?” toji nods his head up at you, signalling for you to climb the ring, pulling you into his side when you were up on the slightly bouncy ring.

“of course, why else would she be such a good girl, helping her dad like this.” he let go of you, to unscrew the cap of water, handing it to the blonde.

“she’s the best.” your eyes were wild, barley registering the amount of praise thrown your way. not giving you time to process how toji grows territorial, glaring at the man that was eye fucking his princess moments prior.

his gaze falls back to your outfit; the usual short skirt, small socks and long sleeve black shirt, tucked in, tight enough the outline of your bra be visible. you loved your skirts.

he knew you were bored, knew how much you hated being dragged out the house. mum’s orders though, kid.

“how about a deal?” your ears perk up at his voice, low and soothing as he rubbed your back, comforting you. a deal?

“a deal?”

“mhm, a deal.”

“okay, shoot.” you smiled, not noticing the way your dad presses your body closer to his.

“if you carry on being this good, we can go get burgers,” the idea of juicy red meat appeased your senses, not nearly as much as quality time with daddy.

“just don’t tell your mother.”

by the time you’re home, all the lights are off.

you knew it was late, but just how late.

although it was night, the penthouse was boiling hot and you were wide awake.

taking off his coat, slicking back his wild, black hair with one hand, toji made his way to the kitchen, glass walls showing off flickering stars and a still silence.

everyone must be in bed.

the clinking of glass jolted you from your thoughts as you kicked off your trainers, feet softly thumping as you followed after your dad.

the artificial fire flickers under the tv, the soft light emitting a gentle glow. toji stood in the kitchen, pouring red wine into a large glass without a care in the world.

watching him made your realised how assured he was, how good he was to you.

how sure he was of his looks, charm and money. he was so fucking humble it irked you. you were a poison apple amongst a basket of berries. i mean you had it panned out in your head, him being nasty, cruel, evil. you were the nasty one.

“daddy?” you whisper. you gauge in on his reaction, fists balling up your skirt at the name you never used prior to now. the soft glug of wine continues, the only thing assuring he heard you being the small curl of his top lip.

he continues to ignore you.

his top is too tight, probably too suffocating, you didn’t know why he wore them. you didn’t complain.

after the glass is almost half full, the man makes his way to the living room, sitting on a coach. the fire flickers in his eyes, his features partly shadowed. how did your mum marry him?

it annoyed you really. why did mummy love him like she did late at night, when you and fugi were asleep. shouldn’t that be daddy’s best girl making him feel that good? shouldn’t that be you?

“sit.” realising he was talking to you, you made your way to the seat he was on, getting ready to rest on the arm chair. looking up at you, he smiled, shaking his head, finger pointing at the floor.

what were you a dog?

rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor, looking up at him as he sipped the alcoholic beverage. his eyes drift to you, glancing at your frame.

you were nothing like your mother; short, curvier, softer skin, a virgin. the last part was hit or miss.

your eyes skim over the wine glass, tongue wanting to dart out and seal a sip. sensing your curiosity he tilts the glass your way.

“wanna try?” nodding your head, you get up on your knees, only for his foot to push you back down.

“dogs don’t stand,” he jokes, foot on your lap, then tilting your head up by your chin.

“now be a good puppy and beg” you felt warm, confused but extremely…no not aroused. how could you be? he was joking, this is what dads do right? you just never had the presence of one in our life just like you weren��t used to these dad jokes…right?

rolling your eyes, you mimic a dog, intentions pure.

toji watches you, your hands balled up to look like paws, tongue lolling out.

“hmm,” his foot lifts from you and he pats his lap which you sit on a little too eagerly. it was weird; you were short, sure, but you weren’t slim, so why did you feel so fucking tiny on your dads lap?

he takes a sip while you’re lost in your thoughts, the feeling of a hand turning your hand breaks you from your reverie.

without warning warm lips capture yours, red liquid drizzling down the sides, pooling on your chin, threatening to drip down your chin.

you’re stunned. too stunned to tell him his tongue should be lapping up the red rivulets on your neck.

“more?” you don’t answer, he doesn’t expect you to, and before you know it, you’re fully straddling him, larger hands in your hair on your hip. all of him too much yet not enough.

“daddy?” he growls, pushing you into himself further. you feel it, you feel him.

“you want to be daddy’s favourite right?” you nod eagerly, stomach fluttering at the chance to be truly be his best.

is this it? the fatherly love everyone talks about.

it has to be.

“then tell daddy you love him.”

“megumi, i swear to fuck.” it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t speak about last week, if you didn’t bring it up, if he apologised.

toji had said he knew your antics, how you wore those short skirts, tiny socks, always hovered round him, stared at him. you didn’t deny it, didn’t deny how much you wanted, no, needed his attention.

and he gave it to you, every single night; with his fingers, tongue, cock.

you were just being a good daughter, his good daughter.

megumi continues flicking you with water, wet hands now in your grasp as you wrestle him, laughing.

“oi,” a deep voice sounds trough the room. his voice.

“someone sat the door for you, says she wants to talk.” he’s teasing, although his face remains blank. megumi grumbles, walking over, pretending his face isn’t blazing red.

“tell your little girlfriend i said hi.” you tease alongside, earning a middle finger.

toji watches you, waiting till his son leaves, before you resume washing up. it’s late, surprising you a girl would come for your brother at this hour, although now you think about it, think bout how thin your walls were, were you really that surprised?

“no boys coming for you?” you almost drop the glass in your hand, his voice catching you of guard. it always did. laughing off his question, your eyes stay put on the glass, watching the sun descend.

“would you allow that.” you whisper, a statement, knowing his reaction. warmth from behind tells you he’s behind you. the hardness tells you he wants you.

“don’t want your daddy sad do you?” you smile. daddy treated you so well these days, he bought you loads, spoilt you, coddled you, taught you how to feel like a princess. of course you don’t.

“you know what your mother said,” his voice was by your ear, breath blowing stray curls which tickled the sensitive skin there.

“she said you’re so well behaved these days.” he nips the top of you ear, near the piercing you had done yourself.

“why is that y/n”? his hands trail down your frame, resting on the skin of your tummy.

“because i’m a good girl,” you smile, turning round, hands draped around his neck.

“you’re whose good girl?” he was teasing now, the scar above his lip jerking with his smirk.

“your good girl, daddy.”

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 12,601 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: pre-apocalypse Warnings: language (duh, it's me), violence, domestic violence A/N: This one got LONGGGGG woo! Protective, badass Daryl is just so. damn. good. Summary: Daryl has long had a crush on Y/N, a waitress at the local dive bar. When things start to go bad with her boyfriend, he suddenly finds himself solving problems for her.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your friend nudged you gently with her elbow as you started to move past her with your tray. “Hey. Who’s that?” she asked, nudging her head in the direction of the door. Two men had just walked in. They were regulars at the bar where you’d been a waitress for a long time. Your friend, however, had just started working there a couple days earlier.

“Oh, the Dixon brothers,” you said, skirting past her to load your tray up with the next round of drinks.

“Are they trouble?” she asked, giving you a sideways glance. You had to laugh at that question. The bar you worked at was a total dive and most of the clientele were unsavory characters. It was frequented by a lot of the biker gangs that road the highway causing trouble.

“Everyone in here pretty much is trouble,” you said, loading the row of beers on the bar top onto your tray.

“Even Mark,” she said, her tone dripping sweet because she knew it would annoy you. You rolled your eyes.

“Even Mark,” you agreed. You’d met your boyfriend at the bar while you were working. You hadn’t been dating that long, only about 3 months. He was a member of one of the biker gangs, but you’d grown up around people like him and the rest of the bar patrons your whole life. You were used to the whistles and catcalling and even the occasional ass-grabbery. Most of the time you felt perfectly safe at work with Charlie, the bartender, watching over things and quite frankly, most of the men tipped you generously. You just chose not to think about where they got the money. You didn’t come from any money at all, and you’d gotten a job as soon as you legally could to help your mom pay the bills. She had already been working two full-time jobs trying to keep your family afloat. Even before you’d been able to work officially you took every babysitting or lawn mowing gig you could find. Your dad was a good man, kind and loving, but an alcoholic. He’d had a work accident when you were just a baby and had chronic back pain from it. He was still young when he finally succumbed to his alcoholism.

And you’d just kept working.

“Well, that younger brother is cute,” your friend said, drawing your attention back to the two men who’d just walked in. “What’re their names?”

“Gimme a minute and I’ll introduce you,” you said. You rounded the bar and took the beers on your loaded tray over to a table of boisterous bikers and handed them out. By the time you got back up to the bar, the Dixon brothers had wandered over.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” Merle grinned at you, leaning his forearms on the bar. “Whatchu doin’ lookin’ that good up in here? You lookin’ to start a fight?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at him. “Merle, you can knock off the sweet talkin’. It’s not gonna get you free booze.”

“Who said I even come in here for the booze?” he flirted shamelessly, shooting a wink at you. This time you did laugh appreciatively.

“Uh huh. Well, since you’re at the bar and not in my section, I can get away with ignoring you all night,” you joked. “Charlie will be glad to take your order.” You glanced at the younger Dixon brother who seemed to be quite purposefully keeping his eyes on his hands as he fiddled with a discarded beer top. “How are you, Daryl?” His blue eyes shot up to meet yours. “Doin’ alright?”

Daryl nervously licked his lips and nudged his nose up in a single nod. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, giving him a wide smile. Daryl’s heart jumped. Fuck. He always felt completely out of control when you smiled at him like that. Half the time it shut down his ability to engage in any sort of conversation and seemed to make his body start malfunctioning. “Well, listen boys. This is my friend Rachel. She just started workin’ here a couple days ago so I expect you to go easy on her.” Rachel smiled at them and said hello. “This is Merle Dixon and his brother Daryl.” You caught sight of one of your tables trying to flag you down. “Merle is the one you need to watch out for. He’ll try his hardest to charm you right out of your skirt, even if it never works,” you joked. “Right, Daryl?”

The younger Dixon brother hardly responded, except that his blue eyes flickered up to your face again for a moment before you breezed away. He looked up again as Charlie wandered over and asked what the Dixons wanted to drink. But Rachel cut in with a smile.

“You’re busy, Charlie. I’ll get it,” she said. She was eyeing Daryl and he felt it, glancing up at her. She was definitely attractive and definitely interested in him from what he could tell, but Daryl was so hung up on you he couldn’t have cared less. “What can I get you?” Rachel asked, leaning on the bar top, giving him a small smile.

“Gimme a bourbon, honey,” Merle said. Daryl hadn’t responded. His eyes had wandered back over to you where you were chatting with a couple regulars in a booth nearby. Merle hit him on the arm.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl drawled, pulling his eyes off you.

The way the younger Dixon brother’s gaze was fixed on you wasn’t lost on Rachel. “Sure thing,” she said, setting about grabbing the drinks. She handed them out. “So, what kind of trouble do the two of you get up to?” Rachel asked. The question was directed at Daryl but he was staring down into his beer, apparently in deep thought about something, so Merle answered instead.

“Any and every kind,” Merle laughed.

Daryl’s eyes were on you again, flickering between glancing your way, watching you smiling and laughing, and staring back down into his beer. Rachel gave the two one final smile and parting look and rushed back over to her section where someone was flagging her down. Scribbling a few notes on her pad about the order, she happened to fall back into stride with you as you both headed up toward the bar area again. You had a break for a couple minutes and hung out by the window where the cooks sent the food out.

Rachel leaned up against the counter. “I think Daryl is taken,” she said.

You gave her a questioning look. “Really? Why? I’ve never seen him in here with anyone but his brother.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” You stared at her, puzzled, and she rolled her eyes at you. “Y/N, he can’t keep his eyes off you. I was trying to flirt with him and he barely looked at me.”

“What? No, come on,” you laughed. “They’ve hung around here for years and he’s never said anything. I mean, I was single for a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! I saw the way he was looking at you,” Rachel said. “He seems a bit shy or something. It’s not a surprise he hasn’t said anything to you about it. And besides, now you’re dating someone.”

You shrugged. “Well, he’s—he’s just a bit quiet. I don’t think—”

Rachel turned as the cook slid out the food for one of her orders. “I’m telling you he’s got it for you. Bad.” She lifted her tray. “You’re in denial. Like you usually are when someone likes you,” she laughed. “Just trust me on this.”

As Rachel breezed away, you glanced back at the two Dixon brothers at the bar. Daryl was aimlessly spinning his beer glass in his hands, staring down at it, but a moment later he glanced up and his blue eyes caught yours. He seemed a bit startled that you were looking his way, and you offered up a small smile. Daryl gulped and ducked his head. A jolt of electricity ran through him again. Fuck. Now she’s dating someone, dumbass. Give it up. She doesn’t want you.

The rest of your shift was busy and there wasn’t much time to sit around and chat. Around dinnertime was usually when the most customers rolled in for a greasy pub meal and some alcohol to lubricate their boasting. Then the dinner crowd hung around and became increasingly more intoxicated. It was about nine when your shift was up and you pulled your apron off and stowed it behind the bar. Merle was playing pool but Daryl was still just leaned up to the counter, keeping to himself. You were about to engage him in some small talk when the door pushed open and your boyfriend walked in. He immediately spotted you and gave you a nod and a smile. You grinned back at him, grabbing your purse from underneath the bar. “Hey, I’ll see you later, Daryl!” you said brightly.

He nodded and managed to give you a small smile, really just one twitch up of one corner of his mouth. His eyes followed you through the bar and he watched over his shoulder as your boyfriend’s hands landed on your lower back and you arched up onto your toes to kiss him. Daryl felt a swell of jealousy in his chest and a hard pit form in his stomach. But he simply turned away and raised a finger to Charlie and asked for another beer.

Your boyfriend Mark walked you out into the parking lot and you stopped next to his bike. “Hop on. Let’s go home,” he said.

“I’m starving. I thought we were going to grab something to eat?” you asked.

“No, come on. Let’s go home,” he said.

You thought there was something a bit different in his tone but you brushed it off. He’d been riding all day. He was probably just ready to be done and wanted to relax. But a couple minutes later, you could tell something was definitely wrong. He was speeding far faster than he should be through town, especially with you behind him. You held tighter to him and leaned forward. “Babe, slow down a bit,” you said.

He didn’t. He took a turn fast and your stomach flipped at the feeling. “Seriously! What the hell are you doing? Slow down!” you yelled over the rumbling of his bike’s engine.

He still didn’t. It was like he was getting a kick out of your fear. If anything, his speed increased. Every turn he took you felt like the bike was about to skid out. You were getting pissed. “Slow the fuck down!” you demanded.

This time he did. But soon he turned into a parking lot and stopped completely. You released your hold on him and he climbed off. A second later he had a hold of your upper arm with a grip like a vice. “Ow!” you protested as he hauled you off his bike. You almost fell as he tugged, losing your balance as you lifted your leg over the bike. “What the fuck?!” you snapped at him, ripping your arm away and staring at him in disbelief.

“If you don’t like how I drive my own goddamn bike, you can fuckin’ walk home,” he growled angrily at you. He was glaring at you with some serious rage in his eyes.

Who the hell was this person? And where was the boyfriend you knew? That’s when you realized. You stared at him, your jaw dropping partially open. “Mark… are you—did you start using again?”

He stared defiantly back at you. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

That was a confirmation if anything. You felt another swell of anger. He’d had substance abuse problems before you’d met but he’d assured you he was clean and was planning on staying that way. “Actually, I think it is my business,” you retorted.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. He marched over to his bike and opened the saddle bag, grabbing your purse out and tossing it to the asphalt carelessly. The contents spilled out and rolled on the ground. “Fuckin’ walk it off,” he said, hopping back on his bike and starting it again. You stared in disbelief as he roared away from you.

“Shit! What the hell?!” you yelled as the sound of his bike roared away. You sighed heavily and stared down at the items that had spilled out of your bag, crouching to collect them and stuff them back where they belonged. You straightened up and glanced around at the secluded and dark lot and deserted street. You could walk home, but it would take you a while and you didn’t particularly like the thought of being out where you were alone. You felt vulnerable, like you’d be the perfect prey for some passing scumbag. You hugged your arms across yourself and decided to walk to the nearest gas station and see if you could call someone to give you a ride. Your mind was spinning over what had just happened. He’s using again. Fucking great. You’d have to end it. That was that. After your dad, you steered clear of anyone with a substance abuse problem, and the personality change in Mark was already so apparent and immediate you knew things would, in all likelihood, just get worse.

You walked along the dark sidewalk, just hoping no one would come along and mess with you. It was only a few blocks to the nearest gas station and you fixed your mind on just getting there. You looked over your shoulder as you heard engines approaching and groaned internally. Please just let them ride past. But you could tell immediately that they were slowing. You kept your head down and just kept walking until you heard voices yelling back and forth over the rumble. Glancing over again you saw that it was Merle and Daryl Dixon.

Merle gave you one final parting glance and roared off but Daryl pulled alongside you at the curb and shut off his bike.

“Hey. Are ya okay?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

You glanced at the earnest expression on his face. His blue eyes were slightly narrowed as he peered at you and his brow was drawn down. You nodded. “I’m fine,” you said. But your tone didn’t even convince you.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here at night on your own. Thought ya were with yer guy,” he said, a slight question in his tone.

You shuffled your feet a little anxiously. “I was but—” you shook your head. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna walk to the gas station and see if I can call someone for a ride,” you said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mmm.” Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment. “I can give ya a ride. I ain’t got anywhere to be.”

You considered him thoughtfully for a moment. You had the overwhelming sense that you could trust him, and maybe it was the openness of his expression or the genuine tone of his voice. Normally you would have bucked at the idea of someone you didn’t know very well learning where you lived, but you’d known Daryl for years. At least, known him on some level. He never started trouble in the bar, although he often got sucked into it because of Merle. A lot of times Daryl was one of the few trying to break it up when it happened. Mostly it just seemed like he hung around with Merle for lack of something else to do. And, sure, sometimes he drank too much and he could be a little hotheaded, but you always had the sense from his rugged but quiet exterior that underneath he was sweet. He chatted with you shyly, asking questions about how you were and your life, but he never pried and he never acted inappropriately toward you or any of the other staff. Daryl Dixon had never once grabbed your ass and that was more than you could say for most of the regulars… Finally, after some consideration, you nodded. “Okay. That’d be great. Thanks,” you said.

He nodded, nudging his nose up. “Hop on.” His heart jumped as you accepted his offered hand for assistance and slid in behind him. It jumped again when he felt your arms lightly loop around him. “Where to?” You explained the route to your house and the bike roared to life underneath you. You held on a little more tightly as he pulled away from the curb.

Your mind was whirring over what you needed to do about Mark. You knew you wanted to end it but you had just witnessed how unstable he was at the moment. Lost in your head, it seemed like mere seconds when Daryl started to slow and you looked up and realized you were already home. The lights were on inside and Mark’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway. Daryl shut his bike off and you climbed off, straightening up at the curb and glancing at him. “Thank you. Really,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it.”

His blue eyes were soft on your face and one corner of his mouth twitched up as he nodded again. “S’nothin’. Anytime.” His eyes drifted over to the motorcycle in the driveway and that little smile faded. His brow furrowed as he glanced back at you. “Ya sure you’re alright?” He sensed there was something going on. Afterall, he’d seen you leave with Mark and yet there you’d been, abandoned on the side of the road…

You gulped. Your heart started racing. You hesitated for a moment. “Um… Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks again, Daryl.”

He had an uneasy feeling but what could he do? It’s not like he could invite himself to hang around. He chewed his bottom lip anxiously for a moment and then nodded. “Alright. I’ll see ya around,” he said, starting his bike up again. He watched you turn and walk up the drive and front walkway. At the top step you glanced back at him and waved. He nodded and revved the engine as you slipped inside.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl made it back to the shitty motel he and Merle were calling home at the moment, paid for with stolen credit cards and hustled pool money, Merle was kicked back on his bed getting high. Marijuana smoke was thick in the air.

“Oh, you’re back quick, baby brother,” he smirked. “You must be a two thrust and done kind of guy,” he said with a laugh and a goading smile.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Merle,” he growled, not in the mood for his brother’s bullshit. He pulled his leather jacket off and tossed it down on the chair in the corner before flopping down on his own bed.

“You tellin’ me you didn’t bed that girl?” Merle said, sitting up. “You’ve been pining after that pretty little ass of hers for years. Why the hell did you offer to drive her home if you weren’t gonna fuck her? What the hell was in it for you?” Daryl’s jaw clenched and he glared at his older brother.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, sometimes, ya know that? Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” Daryl spat back at him. He flopped down on his pillow and turned his back on his brother. He could hear Merle laughing to himself again and then the volume on the TV clicked up. Daryl was glad to fall asleep, admittedly thinking about how you smelled a little like lavender and vanilla and remembering the feeling of your arms around his waist.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day, Daryl and Merle were back in the bar at the usual time. Your friend Rachel was behind the counter loading her tray with drinks, but as Daryl scanned the room for you there was no sign of you. Maybe you were on a break. He grabbed his usual spot at the bar and Merle was already sweet-talking Rachel again.

Daryl flagged down Charlie and ordered a bourbon. “Hey. Y/N on break?” he asked, hoping it sounded casual.

Charlie shook his head, grabbing a bottle and pouring Daryl’s drink. “No. She called in sick today,” he said with surprise. Daryl’s brow immediately furrowed.

“Sick?” he repeated. Charlie nodded and let out a laugh.

“I know. I think it’s the first time since she’s worked here,” he said. “Except the food poisoning incident a few years back,” he added with a laugh. “But, hell, we were all sick after that.”

Daryl nodded and mumbled a thanks accepting the drink from him. He couldn’t remember ever coming in and you not being there on a day you usually worked. He felt that hard pit form in his stomach again. The night before had seemed off to him in the first place. Seeing you walking alone along the road in the dark like that… What the hell? He knew the kind of people who moved through this little shit town. That wasn’t fucking safe. Your fucking boyfriend had been with you. Why had you been alone? And the way you’d answered him when he’d pressed you to make sure you were alright… you’d hesitated. Daryl downed his bourbon in one big gulp and flagged the bartender down again.

And now you weren’t in today. Your boyfriend’s bike had been in the driveway. He anxiously chewed on the side of his thumbnail. Maybe you really were just sick. But he had a feeling you weren’t. What the hell are you gonna do? Show up at her damn house like a fuckin’ stalker?. Daryl knew there wasn’t anything he could do and he hated that.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day Merle was sleeping off a bender so Daryl rode over to the bar alone. He didn’t even want a damn drink. He just wanted to know that you were okay. That annoying pit was still in his stomach. It was still early when he came in so things were slow and there were only a couple townies nursing beers in the corner. He sidled up to his usual spot at the bar. First glance around the room revealed you were conspicuously absent.

“Daryl. What can I get you?” Charlie asked, wiping down the bar top purely out of boredom.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl said, tossing a few bucks down. “Shit. Hold that for a minute. I gotta take a leak,” he drawled. He headed down the hallway that led to the restrooms and took a piss, deciding he needed a fucking smoke before he went back for his drink. He was trying to ignore the anxiety swirling in his stomach that you weren’t at work again. He pushed through the back door, digging in his pocket for his lighter, but he glanced up when he sensed someone standing nearby. “Hey,” he said, realizing it was you. You were leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between your fingers. You seemed almost to shrink away when he noticed you. “I didn’t know ya smoked,” he said surprised.

You exhaled, your knee bouncing a little anxiously. “I don’t. Usually.” Your body language was closed off, entirely unlike you.

As Daryl looked at you his unease grew and was quickly replaced with the seeds of anger. You had sunglasses on and it seemed like you were purposely trying to keep your face turned slightly away from him. His eyes landed on a bruise on your upper arm and he stepped toward you, eyes narrowed. “Ya weren’t sick yesterday,” he said. He could clearly see individual finger marks bruised into your arm.

You kept your eyes turned down toward the pavement and took another drag on your cigarette. You could feel Daryl’s strikingly blue eyes scrutinizing you now. What the hell could you say?

He moved slowly, like he was worried he would startle you, but soon he was in front of you and you couldn’t avoid his eyes any longer. There was a split in your lip and it was a bit bruised and puffy. That seed of anger in Daryl’s chest burst into a flame. “What happened?”

You pulled your eyes away from his, grateful that they were still hidden behind your sunglasses because you could feel humiliated tears burning in them. “I’m fine.”

Daryl wanted nothing more at that moment than to lift your chin and look you over, put his hands on you gently the only way someone should. But he stopped himself and sighed and shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside you and finally lighting his cigarette, casting sideways glances in your direction. “He put his fuckin’ hands on ya,” he said softly. There was a growl in his voice.

You gulped.

“What the hell happened?” he pressed again. “I knew somethin’ was off when I dropped ya off. I could fuckin’ feel it. I shoulda—”

“No, you did plenty,” you said, straightening up. “It’s not your problem.” You finally lifted your sunglasses and put them up on your head, turning to look at Daryl. Now he could see the swollen puffiness and bruising around your eye and cheekbone. He thought there was a shadow of a bruise over the bridge of your nose too. You’d clearly tried to lessen the appearance with makeup but it was still very obvious in the bright sunlight.

Daryl felt another burning wave of rage. “He done this to ya before?” he asked. Now he was wondering how many days you’d been at work with fresh bruises hidden beneath your clothes. If he had known—

You shook your head. “No. No… He—he started using again.” You sighed and leaned your back against the wall. “He was driving all crazy when we left the other night and we had a fight about it and he threw me off his bike and left me there. That’s why I was walking out there alone when you spotted me. I knew he’d started using immediately. I’d never seen him like. He was like a different person.” You ground the butt of your cigarette out against the brick wall and tossed the it into the dumpster a few paces away. “After you dropped me off I confronted him about it. I told him I didn’t want him around me or in my house. He denied it and then got angry… I—I just got out of there and ran to my neighbor’s and she called the cops.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to look at Daryl. You felt humiliated and ashamed of the whole thing. “They arrested him,” you said, scuffing a shoe on the ground. “So, that’s that.”

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” Daryl drawled. “I wouldn’ta left ya there if I’d known—”

You let out a wry laugh and caught his blue eyes. “Yeah, well… I wouldn’t have had you leave me there if I’d known. But there was no way to know he was going to hit me and—” The sight of the bruises on your face sent a jolt of anger through Daryl every time he looked at them.

“Ya don’t deserve that. ‘M real sorry ya went through it,” he said again.

There was a softness and heavy regret in his voice and it caused your eyes to flicker up to meet his again. You nodded. “Thanks.”

“So, the prick is in jail?” Daryl asked. You nodded. “Good,” he said, tossing his cigarette down and grinding it under his boot. “And he best be glad for it ‘cuz if I see him around here I’mma kick his ass.”

You shook your head at him, a questioning look on your face.

“What?” he prompted.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe Daryl Dixon was taken. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Probably should get back,” you said. Daryl pulled the door open for you and you both breezed back inside.

Things returned to normal for a few days after that. Same old regulars, same old drinks, life went on. But since Daryl’s obvious care and concern for you and Rachel’s comments you were suddenly noticing how you seemed to blush so easily around him… And every time you caught his blue eyes your heart jumped a little in your chest. Maybe it had always been that way and you were just allowing yourself to notice it. You’d always thought he was sweet and handsome, but nothing beyond that had been on your radar. Now that you were tuned in you seemed to be picking up on frequencies you hadn’t registered before.

One day you rushed into the bar, running late and obviously a bit harried. Charlie shot you a look as you tied your apron on. “I know! I know… I’m sorry,” you told him. “My car is on the fritz. It keeps overheating and—anyway, I’m sorry. I’m here,” you finished, grabbing your order pad and a pen.

Merle and Daryl were sitting in their usual places at the bar and you could feel the younger Dixon’s bright blue eyes on you. “Hey—I—I can take a look at it if ya want,” Daryl drawled, looking a little abashed that he was offering.

“Really?” you asked, perking up immediately. “That would be—amazing. Honestly, I can’t spare the cash at the moment to take it to a shop and—”

“‘S’no problem,” Daryl said, spinning his beer glass in his hand and ducking his head again. “Ya just say when.” You grinned widely at him and his heart fluttered.

“Thank you so much. Um, do you have any time tomorrow afternoon? I’m off work.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Sure.”

“Great. Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

Merle watched the exchange with some interest and then got that usual cocky smirk on his face. “Well, why don’t I come by too? While my baby brother services your car, I can help service somethin’ else,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip. He chuckled at the sassy and disapproving look on your face in response.

“Keep dreaming, Merle,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh, I will, darlin’.”

The bar was busy that night, but you still found yourself talking with Daryl whenever you had a spare moment. He seemed to be a little less shy the more you spoke, and you found yourself smiling and laughing more than you could remember in a long time. And it was becoming very difficult to ignore those pesky butterflies in your stomach and that warmth in the apples of your cheeks as you talked with the handsome biker and caught his blue eyes.

That night you had trouble sleeping, and as you tossed and turned you couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl and were finding yourself anxious with anticipation for the next afternoon when he said he’d come by. He’s just being nice. Don’t read into it. You had this nasty habit of talking yourself out of thinking anyone was interested in you. Rachel was good at calling you out on it. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip and rolled to your other side. But maybe he really was interested in you… You were realizing you were definitely interested in him.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of a motorcycle rumbling up in front of your house and then going quiet brought you to the front window. You peeked out and saw Daryl climbing off his bike. Your heart jumped.

He watched you breeze out onto the front walk and the smile you were giving him was intoxicating. You shoved your hands into your back pockets a little nervously and met him on the driveway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, shifting his weight anxiously from one hip to the other. You were just in jeans and a t-shirt but Daryl still thought you were the most beautiful goddamn thing he’d ever seen. “This the problem car?” he asked, jutting a finger the direction of your car.

You nodded. “Yep. I swear I can’t go two blocks without the damn thing overheating,” you explained.

“Hmm,” he hummed, walking around to the front end. “Pop the hood,” he murmured. You walked around and opened the driver’s side door and pulled the hood latch. Daryl lifted it and was immediately bent over the engine, already peering at this part and wiggling that. You came around to stand beside him and Daryl was finding it hard not to glance over at you.

“Thanks again for doing this,” you said. “You really didn’t need to offer.”

Daryl shrugged. “‘S’nothin. Can’t have ya breakin’ down. That ain’t safe,” he said.

You felt a rush of heat in your chest at his protectiveness. “Well, can I at least get you a beer or something while I totally take advantage of your free labor?”

Daryl turned and one corner of his mouth twitched up. Ugh. Your heart jumped at that boyish smile. “It’s yer day off. Don’t ya think ya’ve brought me enough drinks over the years? We ain’t at the bar.”

You laughed lightly and shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s literally the least I can do.”

“Ya gonna have one? I ain’t a fan of drinkin’ alone,” he drawled. You nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

“Great,” you smiled. “I’ll be right back.” When you came back with two cold beers in hand, Daryl was leaning over the engine compartment in deep concentration. You allowed yourself to notice his broad shoulders and strong, toned arms and found yourself subconsciously biting your bottom lip again… Your face flushed. You practically needed to shake yourself out of it. “Here,” you said, offering him one of the beers.

He straightened up and accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.”

You leaned over the engine and peered down at what looked to you like an unknowable mass of metal. “Any luck yet?”

He took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “Well, your radiator seems fine. Coolant level is good, no signs of a leak. Might be a bad water pump. Or could be a few other things I’ll check.”

“I’m just hoping for something cheap and easy to fix,” you said with a laugh.

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched up again. He loved your laugh. He never got tired of hearing it. “Ya, I got my fingers crossed for ya too.”

“So, how’d you learn all this stuff? Your dad teach you or something?” you asked curiously.

“Nah. My old man pretty much only ever taught me what not to do,” he muttered, leaning on the edge of the engine compartment and ducking his head a bit.

You felt your heart sink. You sensed something vulnerable there, something painful. “Mmm. I see. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

Daryl’s eyes immediately shot up to your face. “Nah, ya didn’t pry. S’alright.” His blue eyes were still fixed on your face and Daryl let himself drink in the sight of you in this new context. It felt so comfortable, so natural just talking with you, even when he neared things he never revealed to anyone. He wasn’t used to that, but he could get used to it. “Nah, I taught myself. Mostly trial and error. There’ve been times I’ve had a whole lotta nothin’ to do so,” he shrugged.

You nodded, your eyebrows lifting. “I’m impressed,” you said.

He shyly ducked his head again, hoping you wouldn’t see a red flush in his ears and cheeks as he felt them grow warm. “Pfft. It takes that little to impress ya?” he joked.

“No! Come on! Give yourself some credit! I mean it! I have absolutely no mechanical mind at all. As far as I’m concerned, an engine is a magic device that runs on belief,” you laughed shaking your head.

“Nah, c’mon. It ain’t that complicated. The engine just converts energy from the burning gasoline into work. That’s what turns the wheels. You’ve got the cylinders, right? See, your car here is a 4 cylinder. There’s a piston inside each of those cylinders that moves up and down and it’s connected with a rod to the crankshaft and that’s what turns the driveshaft which makes the wheels go. The pistons move down when oxygen and fuel are mixed and ignited. Cuz the gases expand, right?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment before a wide smile grew on your face and you laughed. “Listen, I understood everything you just said in principal but—” you shrugged vaguely, “if you asked me to explain it back in two minutes it’d already be out of my brain. Just let me be impressed with you,” you said.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, an amused look on his face. You thought maybe his cheeks were even a little pink as he took a swig out of his beer and turned back toward your car. “Alrigh’. I’ll try,” he said. “Ain’t used to nobody being impressed with my dumb ass.”

“Hey! Dumb ass should never be applied to you!” you argued, giving him a stern look.

“Mmm.” He ducked his head again and tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at your words. “Your house, your rules, I guess,” he drawled.

You leaned over the engine next to him again. “That’s right. Now please fix my damn car,” you said with a laugh.

And Daryl did just that. By the time he was wiping his hands on a red rag that had been dangling out of his back pocket and putting the tools away, you were shocked to see that the afternoon was gone and it was now officially evening. You’d stayed on the driveway with him the whole time, talking easily about everything and nothing at all, not noticing how the hours slid by. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this,” you said as he shut the hood. The handsome biker shrugged.

“Ya don’t need to. S’nothin’.”

You sighed and gave him a look, shaking your head. “You really are way too modest.” Daryl ducked his head shyly and shrugged again. “Well, it’s getting late. Um, did you want to stay for dinner? I was gonna cook something.”

He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed it anxiously for a minute, hardly believing you’d just offered that. He wanted to say yes, but part of him talked back. She’s just bein’ nice. She feels obligated… “Nah, thas alright. Ya probably are sick of me by now,” he said finally.

You shook your head again. “Except I’m really not, Daryl.”

His eyes snapped over to your face and he hesitated again but his nerves got the best of him. “Nah, thanks but—I should go. Gotta check up on Merle, ya know?”

You nodded but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “Sure. Okay. Well, hey, raincheck then. You can come over some other time. I’m a good cook,” you said. “I mean, when is the last time you had a homecooked meal?”

“Uhh—” He tried to remember if he’d ever had one…

“That’s too long,” you said. “You just say when and we’ll make it happen.” You gulped and touched him lightly on the arm. His blue eyes left your face and flickered down to the point of contact between the two of you. It was electrifying and when your fingers slipped from him, he really wished they wouldn’t. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Daryl, thanks again. I really mean it. Now I won’t piss Charlie off tomorrow. I’ll actually be on time again.”

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll see ya,” he said, gathering the small bag of tools he’d brought over.

You grinned at him and felt your cheeks color. “I hope so,” you said. He gave you a somewhat baffled look and shyly murmured another goodbye. You watched as he climbed on his bike and sped away. The last thing you caught sight of were the angel wings on the back of his jacket and you thought of how wonderfully fitting that was. Even if Rachel was wrong and Daryl wasn’t taken with you, you were starting to realize you were now completely taken with him. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day at work started off insanely busy. Customers seemed to be coming in earlier than usual and you were slammed far sooner than you expected with food and drink orders. But after an initial rush, things slowed way down, and that was about the time that the Dixon brothers wandered in and took their usual seats at the bar.

Daryl looked for you immediately out of habit as he walked in and was surprised to meet your eyes which were already on him. You broke into a small smile and Daryl’s heart jumped. As soon as you could, you came over to say hello.

“Hi,” you said with an even wider grin, leaning on the bar top.

“Hey,” Daryl returned.

Merle was looking between the two of you, noting the smiles and intense eye contact. He laughed. “You two do more than fixin’ a car yesterday or what? Huh?” He nudged his elbow into Daryl hard, whose jaw clenched. The younger Dixon gave his older brother a look which could properly be described as a death glare.

“Shut the fuck up, Merle,” Daryl growled.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you said to Merle, straightening up, shooting him a smirk.

“Ahh, come on. I’m just teasing you. I know my baby brother ain’t really man enough to—”

“You know, I think I know what you were about to say and I’m gonna tell you I have a very hard time believing that to be true,” you interrupted, leaning toward Merle over the counter, your voice taking on a tone that was soft but dangerous. “I think you might need to reevaluate who the real man is between the two of you.” You straightened up and shot Daryl a warm look that made his throat constrict. “Be nice,” you scolded Merle, “or I’ll ignore you for good. You’ll be stuck listening to nothing but Charlie’s same stupid jokes.”

Daryl watched in disbelief as you breezed away across the bar and he tried to gulp at the tightness in his throat.

Merle was staring after you too, obviously looking you up and down, and he let out a low whistle. “She’s way too good for you, little brother.”

Daryl nervously ran his tongue over his bottom lip and simply let out a hum of acknowledgement. Don’t I fucking know it.

Since things were so slow, you had plenty of time to chat with Daryl at the bar. Merle eventually wandered away to play some noisy rounds of pool with some fellow bikers and you were glad for his absence. Daryl was so much more relaxed without his brother sitting beside him and making snide or sarcastic comments…

“How are ya doin’?” Daryl asked pointedly. “I mean since… ya know, that night. Ya gotta go to court?”

You avoided his eyes now, feeling that same wave of shame cresting again as you thought about your asshole of an ex-boyfriend and what he’d done to you. “Not sure yet,” you said. “I think the lawyers are still doing their legal maneuvering. Depends on if he pleads guilty or not.”

Daryl felt suddenly anxious about broaching such a sensitive topic with you. Yeah, that’s what she wants to think about, dumbass. “‘M sorry. I shouldn’ta asked. Ain’t none of my business,” he said urgently.

“No! No, it’s okay! I, umm, I appreciate it actually… It’s—I’m okay,” you said. “I feel safe knowing he’s in jail.”

“Mm,” Daryl agreed with a nod. “They get… evidence? He gonna stay there ya think?” He was seized by a sudden and unexplainable intense worry. He knew plenty of asshole men like your ex and most of them didn’t give up easily and they didn’t take any perceived slight lying down.

“Well, I had to go to the police station afterwards and give a statement. They took pictures of everything. And I went to the hospital, so they have the reports…” You trailed off for a moment. “They got statements from my neighbor who called 9-1-1.”

Daryl nodded. “If ya ever need anything, ya just gotta ask,” he said seriously.

He watched the worry on your face soften as you nodded. “Thanks, Daryl.” God, he loved the sound of his name leaving your lips.

Your shift was over and you gathered up your purse from the back and dropped off your apron and order pad behind the bar, saying goodbye to Charlie. Daryl was still sitting up at the bar and Merle was playing pool, so you were glad to have a brief exchange with the handsome biker again without his obnoxious older brother around. “Well, I’m exhausted,” you said. “At least I can go out to my car and know it’ll get me home without a problem now.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t have ya broken down somewhere this time of night. ‘Specially by yourself.”

“Right. Well, I’ll see ya, Daryl. And I mean it about that homecooked meal!” you said with a smile.

He nudged his nose up in a nod and watched you disappear through the door into the parking lot. He raised a finger to the bartender. “Gimme a double whiskey.”

Charlie was just sliding the drink over when Daryl thought he heard something from the direction of the door and he spun on his stool. It looked like someone had partially opened it, but nobody came in and nobody had gone out and the door slammed closed. He stared at it intensely for a moment, unsure why the hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly standing on end. Probably just the wind or something…

It was just then that he heard a scream from outside in the parking lot and Daryl was immediately on his feet and out the door. He saw red as he took in the scene. Your fucking douchebag, abusive ex was trying to force you into a car and you were struggling with him, fighting as hard as you could. Your purse was on the ground beside your vehicle a distance away and Daryl could see drag marks in the gravel where he’d obviously surprised you and dragged you away. He had a firm grip on your upper arm and with the other hand had a fistful of your hair. You were struggling with everything you had, yelling and fighting, but he was a lot bigger than you. It was a battle you would have lost, despite your tenacity.

But Daryl was a blur of action. Rushing him, he swung a fist and punched him hard across the face. You fell hard to the ground as his grip on you disappeared completely. You scrambled up and out of the way as best you could, but you were dazed and having trouble breathing through your panic. You suddenly realized that there were terrified tears pouring down your face. You were trembling.

Daryl was pulling Mark up by the front of his jacket and slammed his fist into his face again. Your ex dropped to the ground hard. He was still on the ground when he kicked Daryl in the shin, knocking him off balance. Daryl landed on his back in the dirt. “Mark, stop!” you screamed. You watched in horror as Mark pulled out a knife, the same one he’d told you he had when he jumped you, the same one you had briefly felt in the small of your back as he demanded compliance. Mark started moving toward Daryl’s prone figure. You felt your face blanche completely. But Daryl was faster and a better fighter and he was back on his feet in no time, keeping clear of the knife as Mark swiped toward him with it. Charlie and the other bar patrons had come out to see what was happening and the bartender had rushed back inside and was now on the phone with 9-1-1. You were screaming at Mark, trying desperately to reason with him, but he might as well have been totally deaf for all the attention he paid you.

Daryl took an opportunity and knocked him back on his ass again with a good punch and then kicked the knife out of his hand. It skidded away on the gravel and you breathed some small sigh of relief. Daryl landed over him and was punching him repeatedly in the face as police lights flashed brighter and sirens droned louder. The cops had arrived. “Daryl!” You rushed forward. “Daryl, stop! It’s okay!” You grabbed his shoulder and he immediately froze, fist cocked back, knuckles bloodied, chest heaving. Another moment and there were cops rushing over and pulling him away. One officer immediately led you a short distance away and you watched helplessly as both Daryl and Mark were put in handcuffs and then taken away in squad cars practically before you registered what was happening. “Wait—he didn’t—No, it was Mark. He—Daryl was protecting me! He—he tried to take me and—" You were trying to explain, trying to get the words out but it was all jumbled and rushed.

“Ma’am, slow down. Take a breath! Slow down! Okay. It’s okay,” the officer coached you.

“It wasn’t his fault!” you said urgently. Just then an ambulance pulled up and the EMTs jumped out. They raced over to you and you could tell by the looks on their faces that you must be a mess, red-faced and crying. You had no idea that you were bleeding from a laceration in your forehead where Mark had bashed your head into the car as he tried to force you inside. You had no idea that your neck looked raw and red, already revealing broken blood vessels and the obvious start of bruising from his hands around your throat. There was almost a visible hand impression on your upper arm where he’d grabbed you. “You—you took both of them but Daryl didn’t—”

The officer and the EMTs continued trying to calm you down. You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that most of the patrons had skipped out as soon as they’d heard the sirens, or perhaps as soon as Charlie had run for the phone. There were only a couple left and of course Charlie as well being questioned. You rounded on the cop again. “Just take me down to the station! I’ll give you a statement and then—then you have to let Daryl go! He didn’t do anything wrong. He saved me,” you gasped, the full weight of what had happened still not hitting you.

“Ma’am, you need stitches,” one of the EMTs told you gently. “Come on. We need to go to the hospital.” His partner pushed the cop back who was intent only on questioning you.

It was like all of a sudden, the adrenaline in your bloodstream vanished and you were exhausted and the pain started to set in. You glanced back over your shoulder and met Charlie’s eyes, he nodded and gave you a worried look before you turned back to the cop and the EMTs. “My—my purse is—” you gestured to where it was lying beside your car.

“We’ll have someone bring it to you after we get photographs, okay?” the cop said. You allowed yourself to be guided into the ambulance, shock starting to set in.

The doctors in the ER wouldn’t let the police question you while they patched you up and you were grateful for that. Besides, there was no chance of what had happened fading in your memory. To the contrary, every bit of it was burned in your mind despite how fast it had all happened. But you needed a goddamn minute to process it. He was out. How the fuck was he out of jail? And why the fuck hadn’t anyone warned you? You’d just stopped beside your car, ready to put the key in the lock when something hit you hard in the head from behind and you remembered dropping to your knees, stunned and with black vision. You’d heard his voice and made a break for the door into the bar. You’d actually gotten your hand on the handle and pushed but you were grabbed and pulled back violently. And then you’d just fought as hard as you could, tooth and nail. You knew if you got into that car, there was a good chance you were going to end up dead. He wasn’t in his right mind.

It was hard to believe this was the same Mark you’d been in a relationship with. He’d never been the least bit violent toward you, but the drugs… as soon as he started using again, he was a different person. But even then, even after he’d beat you up, you never would have expected this.

Once you’d been treated and released at the hospital, you found yourself sitting in the police station with a little Styrofoam cup of tea clutched between your hands, and some cop’s coat draped around your shoulders. The interview room was uncomfortably cold, but the numbness of shock and disbelief superseded the sensation of the chill air, though you were vaguely aware that you were shivering.

A detective came in and sat across from you at the little table and you looked up at him as he settled into his chair. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, readying his pen over his notepad. “I’m Detective Peters,” he said, checking his watch. “It is Thursday, April 28th, and 10 minutes past 11.” You’d given a statement just days earlier. You knew how this worked. You knew he was marking the date and time for the recording that the little, inconspicuous camera up in the corner was taking. “Alright, Y/N. I’m really sorry to see you again so soon under these circumstances.” He was the detective who was handling your domestic violence case too.

“Yeah, well, so am I,” you said, gritting your teeth a little. The numbness receded a little and was replaced by anger. “How the fuck is it that he was out of jail? He tried to kill me. How was he out? And why didn’t anyone contact me?” you demanded.

“He bonded out. And, yes, I’m sorry… we should have notified you. But we never considered him to be this much of a danger.”

“You never considered him to be this much of a danger?” you repeated incredulously. “We discussed a protection order. I don’t think that implies that everything is peachy.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused. “But we need to go over everything that happened tonight and get a statement from you.”

“I’ve already been questioned three times,” you said, exhausted and exasperated. “Why did you arrest Daryl? He saved me. He’s the reason I’m sitting here right now instead of being… I don’t know, maybe dead in a ditch somewhere. Are you still holding him? Is he still here?”

“It was chaos when the officers got there. We need to get everyone’s statements to sort this all out, okay? We didn’t know who was the aggressor or—”

You sighed heavily and shook your head. “Fine. Let’s just do the statement.” You walked him through everything that had happened and consented to have more pictures taken of your injuries; the laceration on your scalp, the bruises around your neck, the handprint on your arm, the scrapes and bruises and cuts on your knees. By the end of it you were so tired you weren’t seeing straight, but the detective stood up and you glanced up when you sensed he was looking down at you.

“Wait here just a few more minutes. I’ll be back,” he said. He left you alone in that little room again and you slumped forward, resting your head on your arms at the little table, completely spent and hurting all over. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Detective Peters came back in.

“Y/N? Follow me,” he said. You obeyed and walked blindly after him through the station until he unlocked a heavy metal door and pushed through into a room lined with a couple holding cells.

You perked up and breezed past him, scanning the room for Daryl immediately. He jumped up from where he’d been slumped on a metal bench in one of the cells as you rushed over to him. He met you at the bars. “Are you okay?” you asked him urgently. You ignored the twinge in your forehead from your stitches as you furrowed your brow.

“Me? Are ya kiddin’?” he drawled, peering down at you with nothing but concern. “Are you?” His stomach twisted at the sight of your injuries.

You knew you couldn’t get any words out through the bubble of emotion caught in your throat so you only nodded. The clinking of keys behind you drew your attention and you stepped back as Detective Peters moved forward. He slid a key into the heavy lock and turned it, sliding the cell open and gesturing to Daryl that he could exit.

“I’m sorry about throwing you in here,” the detective said. “Everything in your statements matches up, so you’re free to go, with my thanks.” He extended a hand toward Daryl who eyed it with distaste for a moment.

“I don’t want yer thanks. I want ya to do a goddamn better job. This was too fuckin’ close. Never shoulda happened,” he spat. The detective looked regretful and nodded, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Daryl,” you said softly, gently grabbing his arm, trying to reroute the conversation. You were just grateful that he was no longer in a cell. Daryl’s eyes met yours and his expression softened immediately.

Detective Peters sighed. “I’ve got one of my guys waiting to drive you both home. Y/N, they have your items for you up front too. Again… I’m really sorry. But I can assure you that Mark won’t be getting out anytime soon after this.”

“The fuck is wrong with the damn laws? Girl almost had to die before ya’ll got up off your asses,” Daryl spat angrily again. You gently touched his arm again and he relaxed some, glancing down at you and sighing.

As you were settling into the squad car to be driven home, Daryl felt your eyes on his face and he glanced over and took in the wide-eyed expression underneath the fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted you.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Could I—I’ve got no right to ask you for anything after what you’ve already done but… could I ask you for another favor?” you said quietly.

Daryl stared back at you intently, feeling suddenly nervous under your eyes. If you’d asked him for the moon at that moment, he would have fucking figured out how to give it to you. He nodded. “Course.”

You wrung your hands nervously. “I’d feel better if—if you’d stay at my place tonight. I know it isn’t rational and that he’s—he’s locked up but I’d feel safer. But if that’s too much to ask I completely understand. You’ve already done more than enough and I—”

“Ain’t no problem. I’ll stay,” he said simply. You thought of him as safety. He didn’t think anyone in his life had ever seen him that way.

You felt a wave of relief and it was visible on your face. You shut your eyes briefly, again feeling beyond exhausted and hurting almost head to toe. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Thank you.”

Daryl nodded and ripped his eyes away from you. You leaned forward and gave your address to the cop and in no time you were both climbing out at the end of your driveway.

You stood at the front door and dug your keys out of your purse. Daryl noticed how much you were shaking as you tried to fit the key into the lock and his face contorted with concern. “Here,” he said gently, his hand enclosing over yours and taking the key from you before slotting it into the lock. His heart jumped at the contact and he did his best to ignore it. Now wasn’t the damn time.

“Thanks,” you murmured, accepting the keys from him again and pushing inside ahead of him.

Daryl softly shut and locked the door behind the two of you and stood a little awkwardly on the front mat. You moved stiffly across the front room and into the kitchen, clicking on the light. Daryl heard you shifting some things around before you returned with a cloth in one hand and a small bag of ice in the other.

You nudged your head toward the couch and he anxiously chewed on his bottom lip but obeyed and took a seat. You sank down beside him, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but he knew better than to argue as you pulled his hand over toward you and dabbed at the dried blood across his knuckles. They were split and puffy from their repeated connection with that prick’s face. Worth it. When you were satisfied that they were cleaned up enough, you laid the cloth and then the ice across them and glanced up at his face.

There seemed to be something you wanted to say, something in your expression that took Daryl aback, but before he could decode it, it vanished and you just looked defeated and weary. Daryl swallowed his nerves and nodded at you. “Go on to bed. I’ll be right here all night,” he said.

You gave him another long look before nodding and climbing to your feet with no small amount of effort. “Thank you,” you said, and you hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper, but it did. He only nodded back before ducking his head and avoiding your gaze, feeling a little overwhelmed. You managed to trudge to your bedroom and practically poured yourself into bed, still in all your clothes. Feeling safe, knowing Daryl was out on the couch, you sank into a heavy sleep almost immediately.

The next morning you awoke early with the birds, stiff and aching. You clutched a hand to your head, wincing when it landed flush onto the stitches in your forehead. “Fuck,” you muttered, climbing out of bed. You went straight for the bathroom and took some painkillers, pausing to run a comb through your hair and wash your face. You tenderly touched the bruises on your neck and your arm and frowned. You looked a proper mess… You felt a wave of shame and embarrassment before struggling to shove those feelings down. You changed, feeling a little better, and quietly moving through the house, heading for the kitchen and the coffee pot.

Daryl was laid out on the couch, still fast asleep and your heart jumped at the sight of him there. He had his head resting on one of the throw pillows and was stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on his stomach. You couldn’t help but smile at how boyish he looked asleep and there was a wash of heat running through you as you finally tore your eyes away and padded softly into the kitchen.

Coffee brewing, you pulled ingredients out of the fridge and went about making some breakfast. In the other room, Daryl woke up to the sound of you cooking and the smell of bacon. He sat up and shifted on the couch, stretching and feeling a little self-conscious that you had obviously walked through and seen him asleep. He hastily ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down any craziness that might be going on.

Your voice from the doorway into the kitchen drew his eyes. “Hey. Morning.”

You had a goddamn smile for him. Despite what you’d gone through the previous night, you were smiling. At him.

“Hey,” he returned. “Ya get some sleep?”

You nodded and stepped out into the living room, a mug in your hand. “I did.” You were sure your face was coloring pink. “Thanks for staying. Um, do you drink coffee?” you asked, gesturing with the cup in your hands.

He nodded. “Sure,” he said, climbing to his feet. You met him halfway and pushed the mug into his hands. The ceramic was warm and Daryl looked down at the spirals of steam curling away from the surface.

You disappeared for a moment and returned with your own mug. “I’ve got breakfast cooking if you’re hungry,” you said, sinking down onto the now empty couch. Daryl gulped and took a spot at the other end from you.

You took a sip, annoyed at how fast your heart was racing as you looked at the handsome biker on the other end of your couch. “How’s your hand?” you asked him.

He pulled it off the mug and flexed and curled his fingers a few times. It was deeply bruised and the knuckles were definitely still swollen. “S’fine,” he drawled. In truth it hurt, but far less than looking at what was left on your skin from what you’d endured. “How are ya?” A shadow darkened his face for a moment with worry.

You nodded a little hesitantly. “I’ll be okay. Took some painkillers so…”

Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously for a moment. “‘M real sorry any of this happened to ya. Ya don’t deserve that.”

You gulped nervously. “Thanks…” You gave him another little smile, this one a little sad, but it seemed like your face brightened quickly again as you looked at him. He ducked his head.

In truth, Daryl couldn’t believe this was real. He’d pined after you for years, subsisting purely on a quick smile here and a word there as you simply did your job. If someone had told him a month earlier that he’d be sitting your house with you sipping coffee he would have thought they were batshit crazy. This was a long way from waking up in that dingy, smoky motel room with Merle bitching about needing another fix even before he could throw the blankets off. He’d never dared to think he would have anything like this, anything nice and normal. Not that he really had it… But even if this was a temporary, singular event it was doing something like filling him up and showing him that life wasn’t all just shit.

You were studying him as he seemed lost in thought, occasionally taking a sip of coffee, and you watched some anxiety cross his face. “C’mon and eat something with me. It’s the least I can do,” you said, nudging your head in the direction of the kitchen. Daryl glanced up and nudged his nose up in a nod before following you in.

You grinned a few minutes later as you sat across from each other at your little kitchen table and Daryl ate ravenously. He was suddenly self-conscious as he realized you were staring at him and he hastily wiped his mouth on his sleeve, but you only leaned your chin on your hand and continued looking at him with that little smile on your lips. It didn’t seem to belong there when you had fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted, sensing there was something on your mind.

You shrugged and finally looked back down at your own plate. “Nothing. This is—this is nice,” you said.

Daryl gulped. “What is?”

“I don’t know. Just… this. Breakfast with you.”

Daryl’s heart jumped but he nodded in agreement, trying his hardest not to give in to the thoughts of self-doubt and inadequacy. It was nice. It was more than nice. He felt like he had fallen through a wormhole into an alternate reality.

You set your mug down and gave him a long look. “I’m a little surprised you weren’t scared away,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t blame you if you had wanted to just distance yourself from the girl with the psycho ex… Go back to me just being your waitress at the bar.” You twirled your mug in your hands, looking anywhere but at him.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he studied your somewhat ashamed expression. “Nah. None of this is your fault. And—anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

Your eyes shot up to his face and this time his blue eyes held yours steadily. You didn’t know inside he was reeling. The atmosphere between the two of you felt suddenly thick and heavy, charged with electricity and hopeful expectations. Right when you were about to say something, or maybe do something the phone rang and you were startled out of that bubble of tension. You jumped a little and laughed abashedly before going to answer it.

Daryl let out a breath he hadn’t been holding and climbed to his feet, grabbing the dishes and piling them into the sink simply for something to do while you were on the phone. It was a quick call and when you turned around Daryl was rubbing a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. “Well, thanks for breakfast. I should probably get goin. Get outta yer hair’,” he drawled. He was sure you’d had enough of him by now.

“Oh,” you said. Wait, did that sound like disappointment?

Daryl gulped. “Ya should rest today. Take it easy,” he said. You nodded and wrung your hands a little nervously.

“I’ll try,” you said. You followed him out into the front room and watched as he pulled the door open and stepped outside, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Thanks again. For… saving my life and staying and…” you trailed off.

Daryl was very aware that his heart was racing and that there suddenly seemed to be an expanding empty space between his lungs as he got ready to walk down your steps. “Yeah, uhh… don’t mention it. I’ll see ya.”

You gave him one final small smile and he turned away, giving you a clear view of the wings on the back of his vest. Something about the sight of those jolted you out of your hesitation and into action. You squeezed your eyes shut and swore under your breath, stepping out onto the stairs and touching his shoulder.

Daryl turned back in surprise and saw you looking a little wide-eyed and breathless. “Ya alright?”

You gulped down your nerves and looped your arms around his neck, your eyes closing as you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, one of your hands moving to clasp his face, feeling the angles of his jaw and the stubble on his skin. It was soft and sweet, but your nerves got the better of you and you pulled back, anxious to take in his expression. He was on the step below you so his blue eyes were even with yours and you thought they were a little searching or maybe a little stunned.

His hands were suddenly on your waist, and it made him flush with heat, his eyes flickering between yours. His heart was pounding so hard and so fast he was worried you’d hear it. “Uhh… are ya sure this is a good idea right now?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

He watched a faint smile cross your lips and you nodded, your arms around his neck still. “Yeah. Best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

Daryl didn’t need any more encouragement. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back and pulled you into him while the other floated to clasp your face and tangle into your hair. Your lips crashed together, needy and sweet at first but building in heat as you both realized how long you had wanted this and how much better it was than you had even hoped. You smiled into his lips and pulled him more tightly into you, pressing your body against his. Daryl’s lips softened against yours and his hand smoothed through your hair to the nape of your neck as you pulled back just enough to look into each other’s eyes.

“Come back inside,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes closed at the sensation and he nervously licked his lips. “If ya want me to.” He needed to hear it for it to be true, for this to be real.

You grinned at him, biting your bottom lip. “I want you to. Daryl, I—I wanted to kiss you last night. As soon as you were out of that stupid jail cell, but… I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because I was—scared or concussed or something… So, come back inside and spend the day with me... Please?”

His expression softened and his lips curved in a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Alright,” he said, understated for the wild happiness and disbelief he was truly feeling. You were solid underneath his hands. His palm was flush to your lower back and you were leaning into him. “Anythin’ ya want.”

You shook your head at him and gave him a fond look. “Just you.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #protective!daryl

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a-mended-pact · 3 years

Text

Let the Right One In

A/N: So this is for @boldlyvoid 's challenge. I had so much fun writing this. Even though I'm still super anxious about posting my stories. It's been a pleasure and an honor getting to know you Em. Congratulations on reaching 2k! 🖤

Warning: Mentions of insecurities. Maeve Donovan. Faking a death.

Word count: 2,082

It was midday when I heard knocking on the front door. I was half tempted not to answer. Spencer was away on a case and neither him nor I were expecting anyone. Anyone that would come over at all was away on the case with him or states over. So who could be coming over unannounced? I clumsily headed towards the door. My fuzzy socks are making it difficult to stay balanced on the hardwood floor. A knock came again. It was gentler this time.

I looked through the peephole and saw a small woman looking around nervously leaning from foot to foot. “Who is it?” I wondered if I could at least get a name.

“I’m here to see Doctor Spencer Reid. I got his address from Aaron Hotchner.”

My face blanched at the sound of Hotch’s name. It had been quite some time since anyone had mentioned him. After he went into protective custody with Jack even though the reaper was dead he still chose to stay away. Contact with him was rare and slim. I quickly opened the door and watched her jump back slightly.

“Who are you?” she asked. She looked around the same age as him. She is actually quite beautiful. I wonder how Spencer knows her?

“ I’m Y/n Reid.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me.

“I didn’t realize Spencer had a sister.” She finally met my gaze and smiled.

“Is he here or do I need to come back at another time?” A small laugh escaped me

“No, I am not his sister. I am his wife.” I crossed my arms over my chest and locked my foot in place behind the door keeping it only slightly ajar not letting her see into our home.

Her face shifted to one of slight surprise. “Oh well I better just go then.” She went to turn away. When a thought crossed my mind.

“Wait, I can call him if you’d like and let him know you are looking for him. What’s your name?” I was wondering whether this was a good idea or not to even call him but i had already offered and i am already in far too deep to turn back now.

She stopped not turning to face me again. “My name is Maeve. Maeve Donovan.”

Maeve. Why did I know that name? Why is my brain going off with alarm bells? But why do I know that name? I watched as she vanished from the hallway down the flight of stairs never turning back around to look at me.

I slammed the door shut as I racked my brain on if I should mention this to Spencer at all. Especially while he is away on a case. Maybe I should wait until he gets home. He should be home later tonight. At least if the weather was alright over in New Hampshire. He had left me a message earlier this morning to let me know the case was solved and it had started snowing there but their flight wouldn’t be ready till a little later.

He should be home in about an hour now. I will wait. I’ll definitely wait.

When Spencer walked through the door he looked sluggish and about ready to just collapse. The exhaustion clearly got to him from not getting enough sleep while he was away. He took off his satchel and his suit jacket. He began undoing his tie as he walked his way into our bedroom. Not even making eye contact with me.

He came back out moments later in nothing but his flannel sweatpants. “Sorry I know I should have said hello to you. I just felt like I was suffocating in my clothes today.” As he spoke he made his way to the couch where I sat at one end.

Once he sat down he leaned down and put his head in my lap. I gently started running my fingers through his hair while scratching his head.

“That feels really nice.” His voice was soft and he let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed into the couch and my lap.

If I wasn’t petting his head I was gently caressing his back with my fingertips. I know I needed to tell him. I was just so nervous. I knew somewhere deep down this would be stressful to him. The day already has worn him out so completely. It was like he needed my touch to recharge himself. I began biting my lip as my hand stopped on his lower back.

“Hey, Spence, A woman came by to see you today. She said she got your address from Aaron.” He made a humming noise to let me know that he heard me. “Her name was Maeve Donovan.” I felt his back muscles tense at the sound of her name. He sat up immediately.

“Wh- what did you say?” He looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head or as if I had just spoken another language. “Mae-” He cut me off. “No, I heard what you said. I don’t need you to repeat yourself. It’s not possible she was at the door. She is dead. She’s been dead for years.”

He pushed himself up off the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing more than usual. He was more tense than I have seen him in a long time. The last time I saw him this upset or stressed was when he first came back from prison. We were just dating back then.

“I am going to go call Hotch.” he moved quickly to grab his phone when he finally reached it. It began to ring. He looked at it for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Hello?” His eyes widened slightly. I watched as he clenched his jaw and tears brimmed his eyes.

“M-m-maeve?” He leaned himself back against the wall. His breathing became irregular as he slid himself down the cold panel. At the same time I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes.

I sucked in a breath and sighed. Was this going to be the end of us? Now that all the stories Spencer told me of her came back once he said that she was dead.

She was his first love after all. It would only make sense right?

====Spencer’s Pov=====

My vision was blurred beyond recognition. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears as the sound of her voice drifted in and out. This isn’t real. It’s not possible. I watched her die. I saw her. She was pronounced dead at the scene. I mourned her. It’s been years. Nearly a decade.

“Spencer? Can you hear me?” I felt my tears stream down my face, nodding as if she could see me.

“Yeah, Yeah I can hear you.” My voice cracked as I answered her.

“Just like old times huh? It’s so nice to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” My breath hitched at her words.

I felt my heart hammer in my chest. I glanced up to see if I could find my wife. She was watching me with concern but otherwise she hadn’t moved not yet. All the guards Y/n had torn down throughout the years started building themselves up higher and higher.

"H-how are you alive? I watched you die." The horrible memories of that fatal day still haunted me. What am I supposed to do now?

Do I still have feelings for her? Is it wrong if I do? I don't know how to handle this. What should I do?

"That's why I came to see you earlier. It was an idea that I came up with at the last minute. So I faked my death." Her voice was calmer than my breathing. I felt the walls Barricading around me to keep me safe. I was suffocating.

I wasn't sure I had heard her right. I could feel my ears ringing as the blood in me ran cold.

"You faked your death and made me believe for a decade that the first person I ever loved died a brutal death because you wanted a new life?" My tone was harsher than I anticipated.

I felt my wife's hands run through my hair in a comforting manner as she lowered herself to the floor with me.

I glanced at Y/n as tears streamed down my face. The memories of Maeve and my feelings for her wreaking havoc on my heart.

"Darling, I think you should hang up. For now anyway." She whispered it as her hand lowered to the back of my neck giving me a gentle message.

My back stiffened. I was so caught up in my own nightmare I hadn't realized that this is probably a living one for her.

"Spencer. I can expla-" I cut off the call before she could even finish her sentence. Y/n was right.

"You have a lot you need to process and I'm sure you didn't want to say anything you would regret. I'm sorry if I've overstepped." She looked a little nervous as if I was gonna snap at her the way I had Maeve

I gently grabbed the hand that was touching me and brought it up to my lips placing a kiss on it.

"Nonsense. You are my wife. You were right. I should have hung up. I just. I don't know how to explain what I was feeling." I could feel my breathing begin to slow slightly as I tried to match her breathing to get mine back to normal.

It was like my world paused for a moment and began to spiral faster than I could catch my balance. I felt air fill my lungs when I heard her voice but yet I was left gasping for oxygen.

The very thought of Maeve brought back so many things I thought I had dealt with prior to now. I leaned my head against my wife's shoulder as I just let the tears fall.

I felt awful having her comfort me over another woman. Yet I couldn't bring myself to completely care. She was the one offering me comfort.

She held me in her arms. Whispering to me that things will be okay. That we'd figure things out.

I truly didn't deserve her. She loves me so unconditionally it's unnerving. That's when my phone went off again.

It was the same number Maeve had called me from.

I glanced at my wife. Who just watched me. That's when I fully knew and decided something that had been bothering me for over the past hour or so.

I let my phone continue to ring as I cupped her face.

"You...you make me feel special and good and all these things that I still don't have the words for yet— good things… things I never thought I deserved to feel.” I pulled her in closer letting our lips caress one another.

"I love you Spencer. You don't need to say all of this right now. I know you are still-" She tilted her head to the side as if she were trying to figure me out. "Cluttered and that's okay."

I kissed her harder than I've ever kissed anyone before.

"I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with you”

I have no real idea on if she needed this reassurance all I knew is that I did. I wanted her to know out loud what she meant to me. I couldn't imagine a better partner. A better lover or a better best friend than her.

I wasn't going to have her doubt everything about us. Not for anything.

I stayed close to her as my phone kept repeatedly going off until eventually it stopped. I was still figuring things out.

Knowing that Maeve was alive before I met Y/n would have changed my life completely but now? I didn't want anything to change. For once I was happy. I had someone in my life who put me first. Who cared about me. Who wasn't afraid to hurt my feelings as long as it kept me safe. She loved me for me and all the mess in between who I have yet to become.

She saw me for me. I wasn't Doctor Spencer Reid. I wasn't a federal agent or a professor to her. I was just Spencer. The man for some ungodly reason she chose to love.

#Boldlyvoidchallenge #boldlyvoid *insert mushroom emoji*#2k challenge #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x reader insert #spencer x y/n #boldlyvoidwritingchallenge

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Revelation

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst, some blood and anger this chapter.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: SURPRISE! I somehow got this done this morning so voila!

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

A six-hour car ride and a brief flight saw you at a second safehouse; bigger and isolated from the world in a nest of trees. Steve accompanied you alone as Howard disappeared to ‘sort out business’. You watched and listened to it all, always keeping Luka close.

Your room was as big as one of the houses you’d lived in during your days in South America. Luka wanted to stay with you and you wouldn’t have let him sleep anywhere else. James, or Bucky, whoever he was those days, looked grim as he commented how nice it would be for you to have your privacy. You didn’t dare ask him to stay in the room though you wanted it. You had grown used to his presence.

You slept the first night soundly, waking only once or twice to look at the door. The usual shadow wasn’t there. That made you frown and run your fingers through Luka’s hair. You were safe now but that wouldn’t last, it never did.

You woke yawning, the hours of sleep reminding your body of its long-hewn fatigue. You could have slept for days. You peeked out into the hallway and Luka pushed past you, sprinting out the door. You followed him and called him back to you with a reprimand. He was excited about all the new places.

“Mishka, you stay close, we’re only going to get some breakfast,” you said as you took his hand.

“Mama, this place is so big! I wanna stay here forever,” he sang as he tugged on your arm.

“Why, so you can tear the walls down?” you tutted, “What has gotten into you?”

“Papa’s friend, Steve, he told me he fights the bad guys,” Luka swung your arm, “will he fight the ones who hurt you and Papa?”

You stopped just outside the kitchen. You turned Luka to you and bent to look him in his face. “What men, mishka?”

“The one’s we’re running from,” he said innocently.

You gulped and cradled his face in your hands, “don’t you worry about that, my love, me and your father will always keep you safe.”

The boy looked confused but didn’t ask more, he only nodded and you stood with a sigh. You took his hand again and pulled him into the kitchen. You sat him on one of the tall chairs along the island counter and searched the fridge. You poured each of you a bowl of Cheerios and pushed his across to him as you leaned on the other side of the counter and spooned up the cereal.

“You’re here,” James’ voice startled you as he came to a sharp stop just inside the doorway, “you weren’t in your room, I was--”

“You said we’re safe here,” you lowered your spoon, “Luka was hungry.”

“We are safe,” he exhaled and slowly crossed the room to stand at the end of the counter.

“You want some?” you shook the box at him.

“Eat,” he took it and grabbed a bowl of his own, “I’ll get it.”

He added milk and sat beside Luka. Your son smiled at him and received a goofy look in return. There were moments James wasn’t so guarded but those were always reserved for your son, never you. When he looked at you, you only saw his guilt and pain.

“Howard will be here at noon,” James said as he turned back to you and stirred his bowl, “I’ll talk to them first.”

“Talk?” you asked.

“They need to know… everything,” he said reluctantly, “you watch over Luka while I’m with them and try not to worry. We can trust Steve.”

You nodded and scooped another spoonful into your mouth. You chewed and stared at the counter. That wasn’t what you were worried about, how could you explain all that had happened?

✰

After you ate, you took Luka to the living room and Bucky left you again. After some giddy pleas from your son, you turned on the television. There were few times in his life, and yours, that you had the luxury of a screen. You sat and watched puppets spell and count for a while before you grew bored.

Luka tired of the wooden car he’d outgrown a while ago and jumped on the couch. You tried to get him to stop but only found yourself out of breath.

“Mishka! You will break it,” you caught him mid-leap and swung him down onto his feet, “why don’t we play a game?”

“Oooh, hide and seek!” he chimed.

“I don’t know, that might not--”

“Please, papa hates that game but it’s so fun,” he clapped, “please, mama.”

“It is fun when you can only hide in the broom closet. You will get lost in here.”

“Promise, mama, I will not go far, please?”

You sniffed and stared into his hopeful eyes, James’ eyes. “You stay on this floor and do not go past the stairs, understood?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he squealed, “now mama, you have to close your eyes. No peeking.”

“I know how this game works,” you sat and covered your face with your hands, “thirty seconds, mishka.”

“Thirty?” he whined.

“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”

You heard his feet stamp away and you smiled, counting louder with each number. When you reached one you got up and went to the hall. You looked up and down for any telltale sign of him. Nothing was different.

You went to the kitchen and searched all the cupboards and the pantry. He wasn’t in there. As you checked the closets and still did not find him, you felt the panic rising in your throat. Your heart hammered as you ran around the stairs, he hadn’t listened!

You heard a voice, a high pitch you knew well. The front door was open just a crack and you ripped it open as you followed Luka’s sing-song. He sang a Russian tune you taught him as he was carried on the back of a dark-haired man. You ran across the porch and past the armored car in the lot.

You tore Luka from the stranger’s back and both cried out in surprise. You put your son down as the man turned to you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and punched him as hard as you could, just as James taught you. You heard the crack of his nose as you pulled back again.

“You take my son!” you snarled as he put his arm up to block your next strike and your hand gleaned off his chin, “my son! I will kill you.”

“Mama, mama,” you felt Luka tugging at your pants.

“Go inside, Luka,” you barked ready to strangle the man.

“He’s wasn’t taking me, mama, we were playing,” Luka begged, “he’s just a kid, like me.”

You stopped and looked the man in the face. Luka was right, he was sixteen, maybe seventeen, familiar even. You growled and let him go hesitantly. You pulled Luka close to you.

“Who are you?”

“I should ask you the same,” the adolescent stemmed the blood leaking from his nostrils with the heel of his hand and tilted his head back, “you sure pack a punch, lady.”

“Who?” you stepped forward again and he backed away.

“Tony,” he snorted and turned to spit up blood onto the ground, “Tony Stark, Howard’s son.”

“Howard?” you blinked, “oh, I--” you looked down at Luka who looked terrified, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I-- let me help you clean up.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he chuckled and backed away from you, “I think I can handle this.”

“Mama,” Luka huffed.

“I’m sorry, mishka, I did not know,” you grimaced, “I so very sorry, I really--” you looked at Tony again.

“I’m fine,” he pulled his cuff up to his nose, “really, I shouldn’t have just taken the kid.”

“I couldn’t find him, I was so scared, I--”

“Luka,” James’ voice drew you around. He stood on the porch and descended the steps carefully as he took in the scene, “what’s going on? What are you doing out here?”

“Playing a game,” you said as Tony shook his head.

“What happened to the kid?” James asked as he pointed at the bloodied teen.

“Your wife, that’s what happened,” Tony spat.

“She’s not--

“I thought he was taking Luka,” you interrupted James, “I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s okay,” he took Luka’s hand and pulled the boy close, “you did what I showed you,” he turned to the younger Stark, “you should get that cleaned up or it’ll stay crooked.”

“Uh huh,” Tony dragged his feet through the dirt towards the house, “such a pleasant little family.”

You watched him go and hung your head. You felt awful and held up your shaky hand, your knuckles sore from the assault. Bucky took your hand and looked it over.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I hurt him,” you said, “I hurt a kid.”

“He’s fine,” James assured, “I’ll talk to Stark, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, papa, we were playing hide and seek and I didn’t tell mama I was going outside--”

“I told you not to play that game,” James looked down at Luka, “this is why, because you scare us.”

“I’m sorry,” Luka repeated.

“Well, everyone’s safe so…” he rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand as his eyes met yours, “it’s your turn, I’ll keep and eye on Luka.”

“My turn?”

“Upstairs, they’re waiting,” James said and raised his hand as if he would touch your shoulder but instead dropped it, “answer the question but you don’t need to talk about what you don’t want to.”

You nodded and swallowed as you looked past him to the front door. There were no questions they could ask that you didn’t dread.

✰

Howard and Steve sat on the other side of the table. It felt like a real interrogation, like you’d done something wrong. And yet, as you explained your time at Hydra, from employee to experiment, neither seemed to flinch, they listened and took notes but did not show the horror you felt.

“Do you know what they were doing to your son the day of your escape?” Stark asked.

“No, I was… sedated for much of it, they took him from me and--” you shook your head, “I was so angry, I never been so angry and when I woke I felt invincible and when the doctor came, I would’ve killed him, I think.”

“And I know it’s probably a moot question but you don’t know what they were giving you? The capsules, the drip?”

“I never seen the charts,” you shrugged and looked down.

Your hands were trembling and you were overwhelmed. It was the first time you said any of it aloud and once you started, it streamed out like a river. Now that it was all out, the emotions began to flow too.

Then the realisation and the fear. It was, easy even for you, to guess what Hydra intended for your son. He was to be like his father, more efficient than his father. You lifted your head, terrified, and glanced between the men furtively.

“My son is not a weapon,” you said, “know that and do not make him one.”

“That is not our intent,” Steve assured softly, “that is not the type of weapon we use. That’s why we’re here, away from SHIELD, away from Hydra, we can’t let this happen to anyone else but given what we know, this experiment wasn’t just shelved. There are others out there and we need to get to them before another Winter Soldier appears.”

“But how… me and James hide for so long,” you said, “we cannot possibly know--”

Steve’s throat constricted and he looked at Howard. They weren’t telling you something.

“What you have told us today is all we need from you,” Stark said evenly, “It is a start for us to uncover the rest.”

“Uncover?” you blinked and frowned, “what do you mean uncover?”

“You and James have given us locations, details, security procedure,” Stark continued, “with that, we can gain access to the information we do need and find out where they’ve moved their new Soldat operation--”

“No,” you snapped as your chest squeezed, “you would send him back there?”

“We didn’t say--”

“You don’t tell me but you think I am stupid. I know James and I know he feels so bad he would go back to die,” you snarled, “he did nothing wrong. It was not him!”

“But… you, uh, he--” Howard began awkwardly.

“Hydra did that, Hydra made him that monster and he doesn’t not owe you anything. He killed the men who would take my child from me and he kept Luka safe, he is done.”

“Look, Bucky is my best friend and I understand, it wasn’t him, but he did those things, even if it wasn’t his choice and this is what we can do, this is the deal we can offer you. He gets us that intel and you get your safe haven.”

“And if he doesn’t come back?” you stood and slammed your hands on the table, “you would kill him all over again, Steven.”

Steve reeled as if you’d slapped him and Howard raised as brow as he looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“You friend? Really?” your English became more fractured as your rage rose and you hit the table again, this time leaving a dent in the metal, “you no friend to know what you send him back to. They not kill him, not his body, and they torture his mind.”

“Please, ma’am,” Howard said calmly, “it was his idea--”

“I don’t care, you let him!” you shouted, “You think him evil but I know he not. He save me and he has son. You would let a father die.”

“Just calm--” Steve intoned.

“No, no be calm,” you began to rant in Russian as you turned and stormed to the door.

“Where-- Wait!’ The men stood and followed after you.

“I go James!” you hollered as you strode out into the hall, “he trouble!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #dark winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier #fic #series #breach #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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narutogwriting · 3 years

Text

⋇✦ Pairing: Shikamaru x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: smut; NSFW; oneshot

⋇✦ Synopsis: You just turned eighteen and are rebelling against your dad and his new wife. Good thing Shikamaru finds you before some douche can take advantage of you

⋇✦ CW: DARK CONTENT!! NSFW; statutory mention; mean shikamaru; dirty talk; anal mention; slight dacryphilia; cheating mention; anal mentions drugs?

⋇✦ Length: 2.3k+

⋇✦ Inspiration: 18 by Anarbor

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” Shikamaru praised as he shoved your head further down on his length, hissing in pleasure as you gagged around him. He had your hair bunched up in a makeshift ponytail in one of his hands, using it to work you back and forth on his cock. In his other hand, he held a cigarette between his fingers. Holding you down, your nose nuzzled in the trimmed pubes at his base, Shikamaru took a long drag. He yanked you off of him, causing you to cough and splutter as your lungs sucked in greedy gulps of air.

It didn’t last long before Shikamaru was bending over, blowing his smoke into your face. You inhaled in straight, coughing as it burned your throat.

Shikamaru only snickered as you blinked up at him through bleary eyes. “Don’t cry, baby. I help you out, you help me out, remember?”

You did remember. Part of you was starting to wonder if it was all worth it, but you shook the thought away as you licked at the head of his shaft again. A sharp tug of your hair made you yelp. “What are you, a kitten?” Shikamaru jeered. “Put it back in your mouth.”

How had you gotten here? Well, alcohol had been involved, of course.

“Wanna know a secret?” You giggled from behind your glass as you swirled your finger in your drink. It was only your second one, but it was already going straight to your head, making the room spin. You weren’t much of a drinker, afterall. It wasn’t like you could hang with the big boys, though you were doing your best to.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes as he lifted his own glass to his lips, knocking it back and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. “Sure,” he agreed, deciding to play along.

The two of you had met at this same bar a week prior and ended the night with a drunken quicky in the bathroom before closing.

If he was being honest, Shikamaru didn’t even remember your name. He hadn’t expected--or cared, really--to see you again, but when he walked in that night, there you were, already drunk. So if he had to put up with your blabbering for an hour or so before he could bury himself in your cunt again, well, that was a price he was willing to pay.

Placing down your drink, you leaned over to Shikamaru unsteadily, placing your hand on his thigh for balance as you grinned stupidly up at him. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.” You slurred.

“That’s what makes it a secret, isn’t it?” Shikamaru couldn’t help but roll his eyes; god you were dumb. If he hadn’t already seen how pretty your pussy was, he wouldn’t even bother talking to you right now.

You nodded, gripping his leg. “Okay… My secret is that I’m not even supposed to be in this bar!” You began to laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world, but Shikamaru stared at you a bit dumbfounded as he felt a sense of nausea turning in his stomach.

“I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean…” He muttered, straightening in his seat. In your drunked state, you were oblivious to his clear disdain.

So you just pushed yourself up, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a sip. “I’m only seventeen… I borrowed my friend’s ID to get in here.

And that was what Shikamaru had been hoping you weren’t going to say. You were a minor. At seventeen, that put Shikamaru seven years older than you. You were still in high school; meanwhile, he’d graduated from college three years ago already. All of this to say that your inebriated hookup in the bathroom was statutory.

Shikamaru felt sick with anxiety wondering who you told, if anyone. Would he get caught? Did it matter than he didn’t know you were a minor when he'd fucked you?

And yet, even in the midst of his worry, the words went straight to his cock. You were clearly in some kind of rebellion, probably a daddy’s girl who was trying to revolt against the good girl image you’d grown up with.

Shikamaru wanted to help with that; he would absolutely ruin you given the chance. Take this good girl and turn you into his little toy.

But Shikamaru wasn’t an idiot; he wasn’t going to risk jail time or the words “sex offender” on his record just for an easy, gullible lay.

So he brushed your hand off of him, pushing himself to his feet. Pulling out his phone, he called you an uber. Shikamaru wouldn’t call himself a good guy, couldn’t care less what you did on your own time, but he figured that maybe if he got you home safe, you wouldn’t retaliate against his rejection and turn him in.

“Come find me when you’re eighteen,” he muttered before shutting the car door behind you.

Lucky for him, that was only a week later.

You’d walked right into that bar clad in little red heels and a tight black dress that had him drooling. All eyes were on you, but yours were only on Shikamaru as you sauntered up to him and his friends.

He was leaning back in the booth, eyeing you expectantly as his friends drooled by his side. You reached into your purse, pulling out your ID and tossing it to him. It slid across the table in front of you, and he picked it up, eyeing it curiously before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s eighteen.”

You dangled your keys in front of him, the BMW logo on the remote visible to the whole ground. “My place or yours?”

That was how you ended up in Shikamaru’s bed, face down and ass up as he pounded into you from behind. He pushed your head into the mattress as he battered your cunt with his large cock. He hadn’t even taken time to prepare you, not that it mattered much. As soon as he rubbed his tip against your pussy lips, you were practically dripping.

“Couldn’t even wait for this cock, could you?” He taunted as he placed a hard smack on your ass before rubbing his hand over it delicately. “What is it, baby? Those high school boys weren’t satisfying you? You needed a real man?” As if to punctuate his point, Shikamaru pressed his thumb against your tight, unused hole, making you squeal as he pushed it inside. Yeah, he’d definitely be using this hole at some point, too.

You were blabbering incoherently, the noises muffled into the bed as his cock dragged deliciously against your walls. You’d never been fucked like this before.

Shikamaru was rutting into you without rhyme or rhythm, chasing his own high, but you were already coming around him, making him laugh. “And I wasn’t even trying to get you off,” he ridiculed. “You’re just that desperate for me, huh?”

After hammering into you for god knows how long, he pulled you back up, using your hair as leverage to ride you even harder. “Shikamaru!” You cried out, clenching around him again. You’d lost count how many times you’d come.

“That’s it, baby… Say my name…” he grunted, smacking your ass again. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up. You want that, baby? Want me to come in this stupid little cunt?”

You really were stupid because you were nodding, squeezing around him harder, practically begging for his load. You hadn’t been sexually active long enough to realize you should be on birth control, hadn't even bothered to make sure he was wearing a condom.

A string of curses fell from Shikamaru’s mouth as his grip on your hair tightened, and his hips began to stutter into yours, and then he was cumming, shooting his load deep into you as he bottomed out. His fingers went to your hips, gripping so hard you were sure they’d bruise. He held your hips tightly to his as he rolled back into you, pushing his cum deeper inside.

“Fuck,” he breathed before pulling out, collapsing down onto the bed. With shaky legs, you flipped yourself over to lay next to him, trying to cuddle into his side, but Shikamaru just shrugged you off.

“So, tell me…” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked over your naked form. You tried to pull the blanket up over yourself, feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze, but he yanked it off. “Don’t. I want to see you.”

Reaching into his night stand, he pulled out a blunt and his lighter. Placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and took a deep drag. “I know that’s not your car you pulled up in. Who’s is it?”

He blew out the smoke, and you wrinkled your nose at the smell. He smirked. “Never smoked before?” You shook your head and then wished you hadn’t as he shoved the blunt between your own lips. “Suck,” he commanded.

You did as you were told, your eyes watering as you held the smoke in your mouth before releasing it, making Shikamaru laugh at your patheticness. “No. Again. All the way into your lungs.”

Again, you did what he said. Your lungs immediately began to burn as you inhaled the smoke, making you cough and hack violently. It seemed like every time you did, it only made you have to cough more.

You were light headed as you watched Shikamaru shake his head as he took another hit. “I asked you a question.”

“It’s my dad’s,” you managed between coughs.

He’d figured as much. You looked like you came from daddy’s money.

Shikamaru was able to coax your situation from you with fake niceties, how your parents had divorced because of your dad’s affair. He’d married the lady not a month after the divorce was finalized. She wasn’t even thirty yet.

So that was where your rebellion had come from. Probably the first hard thing you’d ever experienced in your life, and you couldn’t handle it. You were so pitiful, so clearly lost.

Well, lucky for you a guy like Shikamaru found you. Who knows what kind of creeps were out there just waiting to take advantage of a sweet, vulnerable girl like you?

Shikamaru was your boyfriend now. You couldn’t have been more thrilled. With his smoking, his long hair, his tattoos, he was your father’s worst nightmare. And there was nothing your dad could do to stop you. He’d already hurt you so much, broken all your trust. He was desperate to get back on your goodside.

So when you showed up to dinner one night with Shikamaru in tow, cigarette still tucked between his teeth, your dad nearly had a fit. It was clear by the look on his face; you’d never been so delighted before. But he sucked up it, sticking out a hand for Shikamaru to shake.

Your boyfriend only stared at it.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smoke in my house.” Your father said.

“Sure, no prob.” Shikamaru dropped the cigarette on your front porch, crushing it under his heel before pushing past your dad into the home. You just smiled up at him sweetly before following behind.

“Nice place you got here,” Shikamaru said, cocking an eyebrow.

Dinner was awkward at best and everything you’d wanted. Shikamaru didn’t mind either. He was more than happy to play along with your antics for a fancy meal. You were so focused on how uncomfortable your dad was with every question Shikamaru answered that you didn’t notice the way your boyfriend was eyeing your new stepmom.

Later, when he had you on your knees in the bathroom as you father and his wife sat in the living room, it was her he was thinking of as he shoved his cock down your throat over and over again.

“Cmon, take it baby. You know you want it,” Shikamaru moaned, head thrown back in pleasure. “You owe me, don’t you? Using me to make your daddy mad. Such a bad girl, huh? Well, I held up my end of the bargain, sweetheart. Now you’re gonna hold up yours. Gonna let me use you to dump my cum in whenever I want, aren’t you?

He took the gurgled moan against his cock as confirmation.

It was a few more minutes of using your mouth before he was cumming long and hard to the thought of bending your stepmom over the bathroom counter. His load spilt down your throat before he pulled out slowly, making sure to fill your mouth before pulling you off him completely and finishing over your face.

He groaned at the sight of your tears mixed with his cum, making your makeup run and smear. The sight was almost enough to get him hard again.

“Better clean up, darling.” He jeered as he rubbed his cock over your messy face. For good measure, he smacked it against your cheeks a couple times.

Nodding and sniffling, you took him in your mouth again, cleaning the cum off of him so he could tuck himself away. “Don’t be too long,” he told you as he left you alone in the bathroom, a mess and covered in his cum.

He wasn’t too worried. He knew that you wouldn’t be dumping him any time soon. Then you would have to go running back to daddy, and he knew you didn’t want that. So you’d put up with just about anything he did.

Including when, a week later, you would walk in on him in his apartment, balls deep in your stepmom’s ass.

Through tears, you would just nod in agreement as he insisted it wasn’t cheating if it was in the ass.

He was nice. He even let his friends fuck you in the ass whenever they wanted, and he didn't get mad at it, so how could you?

Shikamaru loved eighteen year olds. They had so much to learn.

And he was willing to teach.

161 notes · View notes

heroloverangel · 3 years

Text

A Welcome Distraction

Natsuo always hates the first day of school every year.

Natsuo’s never wanted to be a hero. While he’s proud of his baby brother’s success, he’s too familiar with its darker side to ever be interested. He dreads the start of every school year, when he’s forced to introduce himself to new classmates who inevitably notice how familiar the name Todoroki is. He hates having to nod and give a vague explanation that no, he’s never been close with his father and no, he didn’t inherit Endeavor’s quirk and no, he really doesn’t want to talk more about it.

“So, what’s your power?”

He’d hoped starting at the university would be a welcome change from this script but is annoyed to hear the other students already introducing themselves and asking each other about their quirks. He notices someone tap the shoulder of the girl sitting next to him, and his fingers tighten around his pencil when he overhears the conversation.

“Oh. I don’t have one.” He notices you look down at your lap, almost embarrassed by your answer. “I’m quirkless,” you admit, and the people around you react with awkward sympathy. He watches you from the corner of his eye; clearly he’s not the only one who’s always grown up hating the first day of class. You’re pretty, he thinks, and files this fact away as the professor appears at the front of the room to start the lesson.

He learns soon enough that you’re more than just a pretty face. He catches a glimpse at your notes one day and is shocked how neat and orderly they are compared to his barely-legible scribbles. When you get your first test grades back, it’s not a surprise that you’ve done significantly better than most of your classmates. “If I can’t be strong, I can at least be smart,” you joke, and the smile you flash at him makes a warm feeling bloom in his chest. He finds himself tripping over his words when he asks to study with you, but you agree to meet him at the library despite his fumbling.

It goes better than expected. You have a lot in common; both of you are working towards medical degrees and have plenty to talk about when it comes to your planned careers. It’s not a surprise when one study meetup turns into two, then three, until eventually you drop the excuse and just start dating openly. Natsuo is less experienced than you, he’d never really been comfortable with the thought of bringing someone to his family’s home, but he devours your affection like a man starved and gives back just as much.

You’ve had another fun night out when you invite him back up to your dorm. This isn’t the first time you’ve found yourselves making out on your bed, but he’s never been quite this quick to get your shirt off and have his hands on you. His fingers tickle along your ribs as he moves over your skin and you let out a quiet laugh. “You sure are excited tonight, huh?”

You see the beginning of a blush spread across his cheeks. “Sorry. Is this too fast?”

You shake your head and offer him a warm smile. “No, I like it.” You want him to be comfortable, and you’ve been happy to go at his pace with your relationship, but you can’t deny that you’ve been waiting enthusiastically for more. The two of you haven’t done much more than this yet, Natsuo content to grope you through your bra as you see how far you can get your tongue down his throat. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he says without meeting your eyes. “It’s just...I’m supposed to meet my family for dinner tomorrow. Really, it’s nothing.”

Ah. You don’t know the full details of the Todoroki family’s drama, you haven’t been dating long enough to learn it, but you have a decent idea. If he needs a distraction, something pleasant to take his mind off of things, you’re happy to provide it. You take his face in your smaller hands and pull him in for a deep kiss. “It’s okay, let’s just have some fun.” He nods, letting you pull the shirt over his head to admire his body. He’s in surprisingly great shape for someone who spends so much time studying, and you don’t miss the opportunity to run your hands down his chest and stomach to the trail of white hair above his jeans.

He shivers at your touch and runs his hands up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their path. His temperature is always slightly lower thanks to his quirk, but that’s not why your skin reacts to the slight brush of his fingers as he reaches for the straps of your bra. “This is okay?” He waits for your approval before slipping them down your shoulders and reaching behind you for the hooks. It’s adorable how much he fumbles with the task until you take pity on him and do it yourself. “You’re, um...you’re really pretty,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off you.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you joke, and earn a nervous laugh in return. “Come here,” you insist, guiding his hand up to your chest. “You should touch me.” Natsuo moves cautiously, squeezing your breast gently like he’s afraid he’ll break you. His fingers tease against your nipple and you sigh. “I like it, do that again.” He’s eager to please, and before long both your nipples perk up stiff and sensitive from his touch.

Your kisses have gotten more heated, and with all the distractions he hasn’t noticed your own hands working at his pants until you’re able to get the zipper down and palm him through his underwear. He lets out a choked gasp and you give him an innocent kiss on the cheek. “If you wanna stop, let me know. Alright?”

“I don’t wanna stop,” he blurts out before you can finish the sentence. You can feel him hard and warm through the fabric and he quickly loses his focus he’s had on your chest as you touch him. You look up to his face and enjoy the sight of him, mouth open and a deeper blush on his cheeks, his eyes wide as he stares down at your moving hand. You plant a kiss on his neck, your lips brush over his hammering pulse and you can taste the sweat forming on his skin.

He makes the cutest little groans in the back of his throat as you work, and soon enough you’re impatient for more. Your fingers hook into the waistband of his underwear and tug them down to expose his dick for your attention and his body jolts so hard at the contact that you’re almost thrown off balance. “I’ve got you,” you coo soothingly. “Lemme take care of you, sweetheart.” He swallows hard and nods. He’s bigger than the boyfriends you had in high school; your thighs press together when you imagine how he’ll feel inside you. Your fingers wrap around his shaft and you begin stroking him, relishing the sound of him panting louder as you get to work.

Natsuo isn’t quiet with his feelings, and you’re flattered to hear how much he loves your attention with every moan and whine from his mouth. “That’s good,” he huffs. “You're, uh. You’re so good, babe.” He ruts into your hand mindlessly, hungrier for this than either of you had expected, and you love every second of it. Your free hand runs through the soft hair at the back of his head and pulls him down to meet your lips again; his noises are muffled but still grow louder as you feel his hips stutter beneath your arm. You look down just in time to watch his cock twitch as he comes over your fingers, and he’s breathing hard when you meet his eyes. You wipe your messy hand off on your own pants and grin.

He clears his throat and tries to speak, but he’s cut off as you practically lunge toward him. “That was...so…fucking...hot,” you gush between kisses, trying to get the rest of your clothes off without pulling away from him. He’s dazed for a minute but his mind recovers when you lay back into your sheets and reach for him to join you. “Sooo…” You can’t help but feel a bit self conscious when he’s gawking at your naked body like that. “You think you might want more?”

He blinks, his frazzled brain needing an extra second to process the question. “Yeah,” he says slowly. He runs a hand up your leg and feels how invitingly warm your bare skin feels against his. “Whatever you want,” he insists, fingers tracing between your thighs almost curiously. “You got really wet,” he notices with surprise, and you almost giggle at his reaction. Didn’t he notice how much you enjoyed giving him that warm up? He prods lightly at your opening then circles your clit. Encouraged by your breathy response, he lets a finger press into your pussy and the way his name leaves your throat makes him thankful for every day of his life that’s lead to meeting you. You don’t need much help from him, another finger is quick to join the first and your voice is too sweet as you plead with him for more, more, more. You’re trying your best to let him have his fun now, but you’ve always been a little greedy.

“Natsuuu,” you whine, spreading the lips of your cunt to give him a perfect view of just how patient you/ve been so far. You’re dripping around his hand; when you look at him you can see precum starting to leak from the cock that’s just as excited to continue. “Enough teasing,” you demand. “I want it now.”

“Okay,” he agrees finally, and looks around your room. “Do you, y’know, have any-”

You’ve been waiting for this for weeks. “Yeah, in here!” You cut him off, a little too excited for your own dignity, and flail your arm towards the nearest drawer. You can’t reach into it from your position, but you’re able to scoot it open a few inches for him to blindly feel around and find the pack of condoms.

“Okay,” he says again. You watch him fumble with the box, you think it’s cute, and then he manages to tear the first condom entirely in half in his haste to get it out of the wrapper. “Shit!”

You meet each other’s eyes, and neither of you can keep from laughing at the situation. It eases the tension in your room a bit, you take it from him and get the next one open without issue. He’s only a little clumsy as he puts it on and settles between your legs, lining himself up just outside your waiting body. “Ready?” You nod, and he lets out a deep breath to calm his nerves before his dick pushes inside of you.

You’d be embarrassed at how needy you sound if Natsuo’s moan wasn’t absolutely obscene in comparison. His mouth is wide open gasping for air, face read and eyes screwed shut as he tries hard to control himself while he sinks deeper into your pussy. “Hey, you can move,” you offer and he follows, slipping partially out and thrusting back in a little faster than before. You were plenty ready for him, but there’s still a delicious stretch as he bottoms out inside you. You both need a second to catch your breaths; you to adjust to him filling you this much, him to contain this new, primal instinct to rut into you like a madman while you’re wrapped so perfectly around him. You drape your arms around his shoulders and give them a little squeeze. “It’s alright, Natsu. Go head,” you tell him with a smile.

He knows he’s a lot stronger than you, quirk or not, and still has enough sense to move slow at first. “You’re so warm,” he groans, his face buried in your neck as he gets familiar with your body. “Wanna stay here with you forever,” he mumbles in your ear.

Your hips buck up to meet his. “Me too, honey,” you sigh, running a hand through his tousled white hair. His cock rubs against a sensitive spot inside you and you cry out for him, only spurring him to move faster. “Mmm, Natsu. Don’t stop.”

Are you crazy? He couldn’t make himself stop if his life depended on it. He’d tell you as much, but all that comes out of his mouth are groans, and your name, and a jumble of pretty words complimenting you over and over. It’s sweet, but right now you’d much rather have his lips on you than singing your praises. Your fingers tangle in his hair and yank him back down until you can catch his lips with your own. Your arms tighten around him to bring his sweaty chest flush against yours; you can feel his heart pounding along with yours and run your hands soothingly over his back to ground him. You’re here for him, he remembers, and you’re not going anywhere.

You don’t think either of you expect that he’d last long this first time. He’s holding himself together well enough so far, and then you stretch one leg up over his hip to draw him even deeper into your welcoming cunt. Natsuo’s body shudders on top of you, breaking the kiss as his head snaps back and your name babbles out in so many precious little gasps. His dick throbs hard inside you, and even through the condom you know he’s coming as his thrusts gradually slow to a stop. You stare at each other, your face feeling just as hot as his looks and you grind your pelvis up against his before he loses concentration. “Huh?...Oh!” The lightbulb goes off in his mind. “Sorry, what can I do for you?”

You’re not too far from your own orgasm after helping him with his. “Here, just touch me,” you take his hand in yours and guide it down your stomach to your clit, you trust he can figure things out from here. Natsuo’s happy to provide, fingertips swirling around it with devoted attention and he’s soon rewarded with the feel of your pussy clenching like a vise around his spent cock still buried snugly inside you. “Natsuuuu,” you whimper out, and it’s a surprise that the sound of your voice like this, so breathless and sweet for him, doesn’t instantly get him hard again.

He pulls out of you slowly and tosses the condom in your trash can, then lays back down with his head on your chest. “Can we just stay like this for a while?” You murmur an approval and stroke his hair slowly while the two of you recover, sharing grins and cheerful little laughs whenever you meet each other’s eyes. “You’re really great, y’know that?”

You give him a peck on the cheek. “You too.” Eventually you move, using all your upper body strength to push him up off the bed with you to sit up. “It’s getting kinda late and I still need to shower,” you don’t miss the disappointed look he tries to hide, and wrap your fingers around his own. “Do you wanna stay the night? You don’t have class until 11 tomorrow, right? You’d have plenty of time to get back to your own dorm in the morning.”

You see him perk up immediately at the offer. “That sounds good, we can get coffee or something on the way there. My treat?”

It’s a fair trade, you’re going to insist on one of those fancy pastries with the creme filling for breakfast. Your legs are only slightly wobbly as you stand up to give him one last kiss and look for your towel. “Come shower with me,” you order, and he’s more than happy to obey. There’s such a light, airy feeling in his chest that not even the looming specter of a family dinner can spoil his mood now.

#lemon #bnha x reader #natsuo todoroki x reader

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kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Tell Me What You Want Me to Do to You༄ mark l.

↳ On an awfully planned trip with your best friend Mark, the place you end up spending the night in is not what you had in mind. Oh well, at least Mark’s there to keep you company. And apparently, he’s a pretty great kisser too.

pairing: bestfriend!mark x f!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, friends to lovers, college!au

wordcount: 1.8k words

author’s note: i’m so sorry that i can’t add the ‘keep reading’ thing. i’ve tried, but every time i do it, the whole post gets wonky and i can’t edit it on mobile anymore. i’ve even tried desktop tumblr but the same thing happens :(

Request 32: Mark + “I need a hug.” (42) + “Stop being so cute.” (67) + “Put me down!” (153) + “There’s only one bed...” (154) [F2L + Suggestive]

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

In hindsight, a trip with your best friend sounded like a more than sound idea. The two of you had combined what limited knowledge you had about general adulting, scrounged up most that you could considering your financial situations as two college kids, and, in essence, had made things worked.

Or at the very least, you think, eyes scanning the room, taking in the general gist of the next addition to your mountain of already existing issues, made things happen.

And to answer a question; yes, there is a significant difference between work and happen.

Mark sighs wearily. It’s most likely due to the ridiculously lengthy car ride the two of you had been subjected to just to get here (and the back-and-forth bickering over whose bright idea it was to decide to go on holiday when the travelling industry is at its peak—it had been Mark’s, by the way, something about promotions and discount prices) and the even more absurd hike—or as the cheery staff liked to call it—expedition to your room.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to take a trip to the middle of nowhere, Mark.”

“Excuse me, this is not ‘the middle of nowhere’. According to the website, this is a ‘refined establishment which offers a fresh look into life alongside Mother Nature’,” defends Mark, letting the duffel bag stuffed with clothing he has slung over his shoulder slip to the ground with not an ounce of care.

“Well, that’s marketing for you.” You roll your eyes. “Just admit, you screwed up.”

Mark scoffs, unwilling to admit his defeat. “Not my fault that you’re a city girl.”

“This has nothing to do with me being a ‘city girl’. And you say that like you’re not a city boy.” Mark is tempted to say something petty in response but bites back his words. “And we have a bigger problem at hand right now, Mark.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a big problem…”

“Dude,” you deadpan. “It’s a big problem. There’s only one bed.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “We can come up with something… I, uh, I could sleep on the floor?”

“In this weather? You’ll be dead of hypothermia by morning. So, no.”

“Christ, alright then I guess we’ll just have to sleep on the same bed,” says Mark casually, falling onto the linen sheets. The bed creaks under his weight.

You shoot him an incredulous look. “Together? On the same bed?”

“Yeah, why not? We’ve done it before when we were kids.” Mark stares blankly up at the ceiling. “What’s so different about back then to now?”

You laugh wryly. “What’s different? We did it when we were kids, Mark. Kids.” Your face warms as you give Mark a once-over, taking it how much he’s grown into his good looks over the years. “I can list off plenty of things that have changed since we were literal children.”

Mark flips onto his side to face you head-on, an elbow propping him up. “Why? What’s wrong? You got a crush on me now?”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks pool with even more blistering heat. “Ugh, as if.”

“Damn, alright then, Cher Horowitz,” jeers Mark.

You stick your tongue out at Mark. “Whatever. Pass me a pillow. I’ll take the floor.”

Mark jolts upright like a meerkat on the lookout. “What? No, you take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

“No, I’m good. You can have the bed to yourself. I don’t mind, honestly.” You jerk your thumb towards yourself, pushing your chest out proudly. “This ‘city girl’ can handle a little bit of cold.”

There’s the muffled rustling of sheets and the padding of feet against the floor before a pair of arms coil themselves around your waist from behind you, which by the way, doesn’t help your cheeks which only grow hotter by the second. You turn to face Mark who stares at you with nothing but genuine concern.

“No way. This ‘city girl’ is taking the bed.” His arms curl tighter around you, pulling you even closer to him. “Come on. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, Mark it’s—”

Your refusal is cut short when you feel your body grow weightless as your feet are lifted off of the ground.

“Oh my God! Holy shit, Mark.” Like a hapless ragdoll, you’re almost effortlessly thrown over Mark’s shoulder. You’d be impressed by how surprisingly strong he is given his skinny-looking exterior, but you find that this isn’t quite the right time to be complimenting his physical abilities just yet. Mark grunts when you writhe in his hold. “Put me down!”

“With pleasure.”

You yelp, startled when Mark nonchalantly drops you onto the bed, following suit not too long after, his face inches from yours. His arms cage in your face and you feel your head grow dizzy, intoxicated by his scent. Your heart lurches when the bed groans with all the brute force being heaved onto it.

Mark grins cheekily at you, an airy laugh leaving his lips. “Jesus, you should’ve seen your face! It was priceless.”

You stare up at him, subconsciously drinking in his beautiful features; from the hairs of his eyebrows to the flutter of his eyelashes to the rosy apples of his cheeks and right down to the dip of his cupid’s bow, you gawk at him in silence for a moment or two. You realise that it’s actually been a moment or two too long since you’ve said something by the way Mark’s smile falters and his eyes begin to roam your face with just as much intrigue.

You clear your throat, averting his keen gaze. “Yeah, alright. Haha, very funny, Mark.”

For once, Mark doesn’t have any witty comeback for you in response. In fact, the room is drop dead silent save for the mechanical whirring of the ceiling fan. Mark’s adam’s apple bobs up and down in apprehension as his eyes scan your face once more. You can’t look away from him. Your eyes are glued to his as your heart hammers in your chest, its vibrations ringing in your ears.

He makes a move to get off of you but freezes when he feels your hand wrap around his bicep, urging for him to stay as he is. Mark watches you with interest, waiting for something more, but all you can do is continue gaping at him. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, blinking up at him. You wait with baited breath as Mark licks his lips.

“What?” he whispers. “What is it you want from me?”

You inhale sharply.

Mark’s voice drops several octaves, turning almost gravelly, which is so out of character for him you nearly blanch. “Come on, I want to know. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You mumble your words incoherently, your mind too clouded over to formulate an actual sentence.

“Speak up, pretty girl. I can’t hear you.” Mark leans into your ear, his hot breath making your hairs stand on end.

“Want you to kiss me, Mark.”

“God, you’re so cute. Stop being so cute. Say it again.”

You huff, growing impatient. “Please, Mark. Just kiss me already.”

“Holy shit.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “That's really hot.”

Mark kisses you tenderly. His lips press softly against yours, testing the waters and gauging your reaction. He tastes of the spearmint gum you gave him on the ride here and he smells like the fabric softener you always use when you go over to his place.

His hand cups your cheek, and at your hum of appreciation, he finally decides to kiss you with a little more fervour.

You’re not sure how, but you soon find yourself in Mark’s lap as he rests his back against the headboard. You chase after his lips when he pulls away and he giggles, the sound so bizarre considering the atmosphere. You don’t stay displeased for too long though, as Mark begins kissing down your jaw, which tickles, if you're being frank.

Mark’s grip on you turns bruising when you scratch at his nape, savouring the way his breath hitches. As things progress, you can’t help but wonder how this exactly happened. Sure, you’ve had those moments where the idea of being more than friends with Mark excited you, but it’s not like you dwelled on the thought often. All throughout your friendship, you’d never had any moments like this, but you’re surprised you two hadn’t done this sooner, because God, this feels amazing. Thinking back on it, there have been moments where you’d caught Mark staring a little too intensely at you and vice-versa, but you brushed it off as a common occurrence, being friends with a guy. But, you suppose, given the fact that you and Mark are making out right now, probably means that those stares meant a little more than you had first surmised.

You pull away when Mark grips the back of your neck. He pauses, his gaze finding yours.

He swallows dryly. “You okay?"

You exhale shakily, a whirlwind of thoughts consuming you. “Wait- I- Can we,” you take a breath, “can we stop?”

Immediately, Mark’s expression melts into one of distress. “Yeah, of course we can.”

“Thanks.” You nod timidly, climbing off his lap and sinking into the spot beside him. You chew on the flesh of your inner cheek, guilt washing over you. “I- I’m sorry.”

Mark’s head swivels to face you. “What? No, don’t be sorry. It’s fine.” He fiddles with his fingers. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“What? No, no, you didn’t.” You laugh reassuringly. “I just- I don’t know- I just—”

“No, it’s okay. If you want to stop, I'll stop. No explanation required.” Mark smiles at you. “But… we’re still cool, right?”

“Of course we are, dude.”

Mark snickers. “Wow, I can’t believe you just called me dude after we made out. You’re really something else, huh?”

“Hey! You should take that as a compliment.” You shove him playfully. “I don’t call just anyone dude.”

“Well then, it’s an honour. Dude.”

Your conversation dwindles into silence. You feel anxiety begin to make its way up your spine as it latches onto you, sinking its gnarly teeth into your back. What now? Can you two really go back to being just friends if that’s what you ultimately decided? The faint spinning of the fan is the only thing that nulls your worries. Cautiously, you reach for Mark’s hand beside you and thankfully, he reciprocates the gesture. You sigh happily, finding solace in the warmth radiating from his fingertips.

“Can I—no I mean—can we cuddle?” You await a response from Mark, only to be greeted by nothing. “Uh, I’m sorry. That was dumb of me. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

You attempt to pry your fingers from Mark’s but he refuses to let you slip away. Instead, he brings your hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your palm. “Hey, no. Let’s cuddle. I’m down for that. I need a hug, anyway.”

It’s astounding how easy it is to get into a spooning position with Mark. And as corny as it sounds, you feel like you fit perfectly in his arms, snug against his chest. You allow yourself to relax in his embrace until you feel something digging into your thigh.

“Is that—”

“Yeah, sorry,” says Mark sheepishly. He shifts in his position, but to no avail. He just hisses in discomfort. You smother a giggle. “I’m still, uh, a little… excited?”

“My bad.”

Mark pokes your waist, fishing that repressed giggle out of you. “Dumbass.”

And as you lay there with Mark, your laughter fading as the moon rises, you can’t deny the sparks of attraction that have ignited. You’re not quite sure exactly how you feel, but you think, whatever the outcome, the two of you will be alright.

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donghyuckcuyhgnod · 3 years

Text

[5:12 pm]

to say that donghyuck was nervous was an understatement. sure, he hoped that your parents would like him—but would they approve of his lifestyle? being an idol, he knew he couldn’t be there for you as much as you both would have liked; yet, it was something the two of you were willing to sacrifice for your relationship. of course, you had told your parents all about the lovely donghyuck that you happened to call your boyfriend. you had been dating for nearly two years now, and he had yet to meet your parents. surely they hated him for that, right? however, you constantly assured him that they knew he was an idol with very limited free time, and they understood.

he previously had some brief conversations with your mother over the phone a few times, but his nerves were still shaking and his heart was still hammering in his chest at the thought of your family not liking him. you had grown close with his, and he hoped that your parents and siblings loved him just as much as his family loved you. noticing the silence in the car (your boyfriend was never silent), you glanced over at him only to see his eyes shaking and his eyebrows furrowed, clearly deep in thought. his eyes were trained on the road, both of his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“hyuck,” you called out softly, his eyes darting to yours for a split second, his features immediately softening at the sight of your comforting smile. he knew that look; it was the calm down, everything’s going to be fine look. he had seen it plenty of times, mainly when he was nervous before performing and you were there to calm his nerves. you were good at that.

responding to your unspoken words, he sighed. “i know, i know. i’m just nervous, okay? i mean, how could i not be? i’m meeting your entire family tonight. including your siblings. oh, god! what if your older brother hates me? i’m dead meat.”

you chuckled, “hyuck, my brother loves nct’s music. he’ll probably be fanboying over you the second you walk into my house.” hyuck groaned in frustration, letting his head fall to the steering wheel while at a red light. you smiled, secretly enjoying the rare show of hyuck’s nervous habits. you thought it was kind of cute how much he wanted to make a good impression on your family.

donghyuck let out a shaky breath when the two of you pulled up to your house, a light smile taking over your features as you inspected the place where you grew up. after moving to seoul for your internship at sm entertainment, you weren’t really given the time to visit your family, for they were nearly a three hour drive from the city you now called home. still, a sense of nostalgia washed over you. you missed your family dearly.

“ready, baby?” you said, unbuckling yourself as you climbed out of the car, smoothing down your skirt and eyeing your boyfriend with amusement.

“not at all,” he muttered, before stepping out of the car as well. you chuckled, making your way to his side and stepping in front of him.

“i know you’re nervous, hyuckie, but don’t be. they’re gonna love you,” you said, trailing your hand up his arm, lightly caressing his hot, blushing cheek at the nickname that only you called him. he wrapped his arms around your middle, snuggling into you and taking a deep breath. you cooed at him, one hand rubbing comforting circles on his back and the other playing with the ends of the hair on his neck.

you took ahold of his cheeks, forcing him to pull away from you. he closed his eyes, resting his forehead on yours as he sighed in contentment, and for a moment, all of his worries were forgotten. the only thing he cared about was the way your embrace felt like home to him, and he wondered if you felt the same despite the inviting house that you stood in front of. your lips felt like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, wrapping him in the utmost of comfort and warmth when connected with his. the soft sweater you wore that was bunched in his hands felt like a cloud, the smell of your laundry detergent and soft vanilla perfume filling his scents with everything that reminded him of you.

“i love you. no matter what happens,” you whispered, breaking the soft and gentle kiss between the two of you. you pressed a featherlight kiss to his nose, his eyes shining underneath the golden rays of the sky as the sun began to set. he nodded, giving himself a mini pep-talk before following you to your doorstep with his hand tightly grasping yours. he put on the kindest smile he could muster, unaware of the ten eyes sneakily watching the two of you through the living room window, smiles on all five of their faces.

–

your family sure did love donghyuck, alright.

“you were so cute as a baby, y/n. what happened?” your boyfriend teased you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. your younger brother, aged twelve, laughed at the joke. you playfully rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder lightly as he chuckled, giving your younger brother a high five. you continued to look through your baby photos on your living room couch. you felt completely at ease in your beloved home, surrounded by your family who you loved dearly. even better, you were sharing this moment with the love of your life. you were in heaven.

“oppa, look what i found!” your seven-year-old sister yelled, running down the stairs with two barbie dolls in hand. she giggled, “this one looks like you!” she shoved the tan, brunette ken doll into his hands, her eyes crinkling in happiness and delight as he smiled at her.

“you’re right, it kind of does!” he said enthusiastically, despite the fact that the ken doll did not, in fact, look anything like your boyfriend. the young girl was cute for trying, though. “and she looks just like you!” he gasped in fake disbelief, pointing to the other barbie doll in her hand. she giggled, giving him the biggest and shiniest eye-smile as she plopped on the couch right next to donghyuck, shyly looking up at him. you cooed at the sight.

“looks like you’ve got some competition, sis,” your brother says, older by three years. you laughed, causing donghyuck’s ears to perk up. diverting his attention from your little sister who was desperately trying to play barbies with him, he looked at your smiling figure and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. you were laughing with your brother (although, he wasn’t sure what about; and frankly, he didn’t care at the moment), and donghyuck thinks that he’s never seen someone so beautiful. after getting to know your family while eating the delicious meal that your mother had made, it all made sense to him.

your kindness, and the way you talked to others all made sense when he had met your parents. the way they welcomed him with open arms made him feel like he was already part of the family. the same smile that made his heart run a mile a minute whenever you looked at him was the same smile that your mother greeted him with. the kind glimmer in your eyes that donghyuck could get lost in was the same look in your father’s eyes—nice to finally meet you, son.

the way your younger siblings clearly admired you like no other, and the proud look in your older brother’s eyes when you talked about your experience as an intern while passing him the mashed potatoes. all of it; the family portraits hung on the wall, the coziness of the home you grew up in. donghyuck could only imagine your memories in the house, and it created an unexplainably intimate feeling in his heart. the overall atmosphere of a simple, yet tightly knit home—it radiated you. seeing you like this, in a way, made donghyuck feel even closer to you.

he didn’t realize he was staring at you with a smile on his face until you poked his cheek. “hyuck? are you okay?” you lightly chuckled, “you’ve been staring at me for two minutes, now.”

“right, yeah, sorry,” he breathily laughed, his cheeks flaring up with a red tint, shaking the overwhelming feelings of you out of his head. “i’m fine. i’m perfect, actually.”

“okay, whatever you say,” you teased, pinching his flushed cheeks and causing him to scrunch his face in displeasure. suddenly, your mother called you from the kitchen, asking for your help with the dessert she was almost done preparing. you happily complied, a sweet sure thing, mom! escaping your lips.

“i’ll be right back, baby. just keep these demons occupied for me,” you jokingly pleaded, causing donghyuck to laugh a little at your words. he happily nodded, before you kissed him on the cheek and made your way to the kitchen. he watched as you disappeared from his side, smiling to himself.

“you’re really whipped for my little sister, huh?” your older brother said from the other side of the living room, crossing his arms with a teasing glint. donghyuck nervously laughed, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous manner. he looked down at his shoes in slight embarrassment, your brother smiling knowingly at the shy boy.

donghyuck sighed, “you have no idea.”

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kkaeyva · 3 years

Text

epilogue in spring

𐐪𐑂 summary: sequel to anagapesis— it’s been a long time since the day he left. how have you fared? good? good. i’m proud of you.

𐐪𐑂 includes: platonic!zhongli

𐐪𐑂 genre(s): forgiveness, reminiscing

𐐪𐑂 note: highly recommended that you read anagapesis before you read this so you know the context :)

𐐪𐑂 word count: 590

it is spring when you see him again.

those same golden eyes; that same brown hair.

he smiles at you, quite fondly (quite softly.) his skin still glows the same as the day he left— the day he broke your heart with words that had the same force of a blacksmith’s hammer.

but it’s okay, you say to no one but your overthinking mind.

you watch as he strides up close to you, greeting you with that same voice (that same warm tone.) though, your heart doesn’t stutter as much as you thought it would. in fact, it doesn’t react at all to him nor his presence. it smiles, and it laughs. it’s enjoying the fresh breeze you feel dancing around you; it’s beating along to the melody of the birds. it is bandaged and scarred, but the bruises have long since faded away, only serving as memoirs of a life in a more complicated time.

you have healed. you have grown.

he asks you how you’ve been, and you smile as you tell him you’ve been doing great. your eyes crease at the corners— you don’t have to force yourself to smile, especially not around him, because it’s natural to you. you’ve already grown, haven’t you? it feels nice.

it’s only inevitable that you must address the topic lingering above your heads.

“i think as though we have been skirting around the topic quite sometime now,” the man before you catches your attention with a statement out of the blue.

“huh?” you give him an unsure smile. your eyes, lit with a curious glow, stare into his piercing, golden ones. is it guilt that you see welling in his irises?

“just to begin... i’m sorry.”

and suddenly you are brought back to that moment. it happened in a blur and yet it is still crystal clear in your mind; the closed door, the shattering of your heart. how you fell to your knees, how utterly broken your concept of love had felt afterwards.

but it’s okay, your heart is the one to remind you this time. it flushes a beautiful, rosy pink as it beams at you, showing off all its faded scars and old bandages. i’ve healed, it reminds you gently as it ushers you back to the present.

“zhongli,” you laugh, and it comes out sounding like that of one windborne bard’s from the land of freedom. and it really does sound like freedom. it sounds like it’s been cleansed with the wind of new beginnings.

“it’s in the past, and i’ve learned to forgive both you and myself,” you take his gloved hands in yours. they are unfamiliar, having moulded to fit another’s, but it is an invigorating feeling to see how mismatched the two of you truly are. “i can see it in your eyes, zhongli, that you are holding onto something that neither of us needs to hold on to anymore.”

he stares at you, passively, even though the confusion is evident in the way his eyes dart all over your face. but in the end, he sighs, curling the corners of his lips into a fond smile. he laughs; a deep rumble escaping through his vocal cords and sounding like music to your ears.

“thank you,” he murmurs. you laugh again, giving his fingers a lighthearted squeeze before letting them go. you watch as his hand falls to his side, a jovial gleam in your eyes.

the world is clear, now, and it is gorgeous when you have the opportunity to appreciate it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagine #zhongli #kkaeyva.writes #zhongli.txt #idk how i feel abt this #may or may not write an alternate ver if i feel like it

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from-seas-to-skies · 3 years

Note

Can I get milk chocolate with mint, crackers and walnuts w/ Bakugou?

One crunchy mint, coming right up!

Prompts: drunken confession, finally seeing each other again, about to kiss but gets interrupted

Thanks for the order!

‘beer with me here’ / Bakugou x Reader ♕︎

warnings: alcohol consumption

words: 1,418

If only things were easier.

If only you two weren’t pro heroes, forced to spend time apart and head separate ways, things would be easier. You know it’s selfish, thinking like this, but you’re only human. People tend to forget that when they look at the pros, set them above the human race and hold them to godly standards.

But the truth is, heroes weren’t gods. No, they were simple, ordinary people.

It’s been some time since you’ve last seen Bakugou, one of your closest friends from high school. At first, your relationship with him had been rocky; like everyone else in your class, he hurled insults your way, seemingly always wanting to pick a fight. Over time, though, the two of you managed to get on each other’s good sides and later found yourselves to be friends. It’s almost incredible how much he mellowed out over the years, but that same fiery passion still shines brightly within him.

You’re almost jealous of his ambition and the sheer level of self-pride he holds. True, while he is somewhat of narcissist, you know it runs deeper than that. Because – just like you – Bakugou is only human.

You wonder if he’s changed at all. It’s only been a little over a year since graduation; you’ve actually missed his snarky personality, the way he stubbornly shows his concern, his very being in general. All this time – even when you were still in school – you’ve tried to deny it, to crush your own feelings. At some point during the friendship with him, you’ve found yourself helplessly falling in love with him. You refused to tell him, even when you were face-to-face and alone after the graduation ceremony. In a world like this, where anything could go wrong at any moment, you didn’t want to risk it. It was hard enough saying goodbye, but to say goodbye goodbye? Your heart couldn’t take it.

But now, after all this time, here you are, back in Tokyo. It’s a trip solely meant for some sort of hero conference (you’ve never liked the paperwork involved with heroism), but then Bakugou magically texts you out of nowhere, wanting to meet up. It’s the same text you stare at now; seated in a booth of some local bar, you await his arrival.

Your hands feel endlessly clammy, even though you constantly wipe them against your jeans. Now’s not the time to be nervous; Bakugou’s your friend, for crying out loud. You should be excited to see him.

Just like that, the bell hanging above the door tingles, catching your attention over the low music filling the establishment. Your throat goes dry as Bakugou steps in, his hulking frame nearly taking up the entire space of the door. He looks good – dressed in a pair of dark ripped jeans and a motorcycle jacket, he looks like he just stepped off the set of a photo shoot.

His eyes scan the few other patrons inhabiting the bar before they land on you. Instinctively, you flash him a cheeky smile; to your surprise, Bakugou smiles back. As he comes over to where you sit, you slide out of your booth and meet him head on.

“Hey, shithead- Oof!” All breath is knocked out of Bakugou’s lungs as you envelop him a bear hug, your face nuzzling his shoulder. Shit, even though it’s only been a year, he’s grown a massive amount, both in height and muscle.

“Bakugou, I missed you,” you confess, your insides warming up in joy.

“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too, you little shit,” he grunts. “Now get the hell off me before you squeeze me to death.”

Promptly letting go of him, you flash him another smile before you sit back down. Bakugou follows suit, sliding into the seat across from you. After there’s two beer mugs and a basket of fries sitting on the table, you send Bakugou a curious glance. “So,” you start, reaching for a fry, “what’s up?”

Bakugou snorts. “Really? That’s what you have to say? What’s up? What are you, my mom?”

You smirk. “I didn’t know you and your mom are on good terms now.”

“Screw that. The old hag still likes to bust my balls every chance she gets.” He takes a swig of his beer and smacks his lips together. “But, if I’m going to answer your question… I guess I’ve been alright. Villains still hide out, there’s robberies that need taken care of, yadda, yadda… At the end of the day, I’m kicking someone’s ass and making them wish they were never born. That’s a win in my book.”

Happiness pangs in your heart. Ah, so Bakugou hasn’t changed at all. That’s great.

“Oi, stop looking at me like that.”

You blink frantically. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“I dunno. You’ve got some weird twinkle in your eye and it’s creeping me out.”

Dammit, you mentally curse, shifting your gaze to your drink. You don’t want to scare him off.

“It’s nice to see you’re still alive,” Bakugou continues. You nearly choke on your drink. Despite his voice being gruff – just like it’s always been – you can tell he’s being earnest. “Nowadays, you never know just what the hell is gonna happen. Makes you sit back and think for a bit, yeah?” With a sigh, he looks to the bar and takes another slurp of beer.

Your heart does a little dance as the light catches the pieces of metal dangling from his ears, the rings adorning his middle and pinky fingers. Is this how he always dresses now? Or did he… Did he dress up for you? Oh no, you think as his eyes flick back towards you, an unknown gleam in them. He’s hot.

You frantically chug on your beer.

“Hey- Whoa! Take it easy, won’t ya? Didn’t know you were in a rush to get hammered,” Bakugou drawls.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter. “My uh, my throat suddenly got too dry.”

Again, Bakugou snorts. Whatever he’s so amused by, you have no clue. You’re just happy that you’re in his company after such a long time. The two of you fall into easy conversation after that; about an hour in, a number of beer mugs litter the tabletop along with two empty baskets. At some point, Bakugou had slithered into your side of the booth, his muscular thigh pressing against yours.

You laugh at some far-fetched story of his, a large grin painted on your face. Bakugou’s face is flushed prettily, the pink color complimenting the hue of his eyes. He looks even better up close like this, smells good, too, like smoke and caramel. Slinging an arm over your shoulder, he knocks back his beer mug and finishes off the gold liquid.

“Ah!” he proclaims, licking his lips. “We should’ve done this a long time ago.”

“You’re drunk,” you say, a slight slur to your words.

“The hell I am. You’re practically sloshed.”

“Shut up,” you say with a pout, smacking his chest. “You say that like you’re not having fun.”

He clicks his tongue. “Give me some credit, won’t you? I got a cute little shit like you keeping me company – I’m practically having the time of my life.”

Your heart flutters at his words. He’s just saying that to say that, get a rise out of you by teasing. “Don’t say stuff like that,” you mumble.

“What, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” he drawls. Warm, beer-scented breath fans over your face. Your breath catches in your throat; he’s so close that it’s dizzying. You feel safe in his hold, surrounded by his smoky sweet scent. “It’s actually kind of nice…” He leans forward, then, his lips nearing yours. Your heart thuds wildly in your chest, almost to the point where you’d think Bakugou could hear it.

“Bakugou-“

Clank.

Jumping away from him, a small squeak passes through your lips as you look up at the bartender. “Would you two want anything else?” he says in a deep, bored voice. You watch as he gathers up the empty mugs off the table. Beside you, Bakugou curses.

“No,” Bakugou grunts. “Thanks.”

With a curt nod, the bartender picks up his tray and walks away. Turning back to Bakugou, you notice how his face is even darker, how he refuses to meet his eyes.

“Bakugou…?”

“Let’s go out again tomorrow,” he says, still not meeting your eyes. “And you better say yes, dammit.”

A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “…I’d love to.”

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #kny bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #request #empress writes #cv event

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sly-merlin · 3 years

Text

KILLING ME - 12 |n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : mentions of blood and brutality. For future chapters, major character death(s).

words :

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

A/n : this was supposed to be a longer chapter. The Tumblr was bring problematic since three days. This is not how the chapter was supposed to end but i couldn't post anything longer than this so i had to make changes to end it on a surprise tone like other chapters. I hope you still enjoy it.

Was he asking for too much?

His unsteady hand rose and fell, internal monologue stopping him from knocking on the door. Johnny wasn't sure how he even ended up outside taeyong's door. One second he was fighting with his thoughts and the next second he found himself jumping out of his car, almost ready to confront the person behind the door.

He took a deep breath and was about to drum the wood when the door opened from inside, taeyong's sleepy figure greeting him instantly.

"John. Why are you here so late? Do you need something?" from red pressed strikes on taeyong’s face, anyone would have guessed that he had been sleeping.

“Johnny! I’m talking to you.” he waved his hand in front of johnny’s distracted eyes.

“Huh”

“Do you want something?”

“y/n.”

Your life was back on the wagon. Not truly but with a few exceptions here and there, it certainly felt like the old days. You were in chois on weekdays and took tuitions on the weekends. You met your friends while visiting the library and everything felt quite normal. Even with a few oddities, that being the five day training sessions with Jungwoo, some new people in your life, a residence that you felt happy coming back to, absence of someone that you’d never grown a liking for, everything was smooth. Just like before. The only thing you missed was some time. Time for yourself. Though you lived alone, which was a luxury nearing its end, you barely got a few minutes alone with your mind and that was something you craved more than the drink shoved in your hand at the moment.

You loved your friends, without any doubt, but they lived with the bad habit of disregarding your feelings, feelings that said you would be anywhere but the restaurant you were sitting in.

“y/n is going into hibernation again.” minjun’s voice broke your trance.

“What did you say?" You challenged him but he cowered in his seat and turned his focus on the soggy french fries instead. When he silenced, yugyeom spoke up,

“Yo y/n. Don’t scare the child. Just drink away your sorrows. The wine is quite expensive here. If you are making me pay then at least make it worth it."

Suddenly, Jungkook's loud snorting caught everyone's attention as they all quietened, waiting for him to reveal the reasons for his action. Swirling his burgundy glass, he chugged the last bit of the drink before leaning backwards in his chair, relaxing himself.

"Now what's the drama with You" Yeong grumbled, clearly intoxicated.

"She's already hammered" minjun giggled.

"When are you going to invite us to your house y/n?" Jungkook chimed in, a smirk plastered on his blushed face.

"Oh yes. Ms. Lawyer no more l-lives i-in the d-dorms." Yeong hiccupped, losing the grip on the bottle of soju. Yugyeom chuckled at her antics before snatching the bottle away to avoid any fuss.

"I also meant to ask you but you are never available for more than an hour or so. Are you doing alright" gyeom shifted his chair towards you while keeping a hand on his girlfriend's back.

You didn't know how to reply or what to trump up so they'd stop pestering you. However, you had no other choice than to continue with the streak you had started a few months ago.

"Of course i want to have you there but my roommate is very, how to explain, very bitchy. He got this corporate job and he-he works from home so I'm supposed to pretend like I do not exist and keep quiet. That includes no outsiders as well. It's gonna be like this for a few months i guess"

You mumbled the last part.

You averted your eyes but didn't mean you could've escaped their intense judgemental gaze. You repeated the whole lie that you recited to arrange it in the box of deceit that you were filling since the commencement of these stories. Forgetting any of these would mean shattering their trust. And that was exactly what you were supposed to protect.

Once reiterated, you gathered how foolish the sentence was. Had it been said to you, there wasn't a chance of putting your belief in it. But your company was drunk enough to believe it; two of them were enough to carry the whole table.

"Wow. How horrible of him. We should take y/n with us yugy. She'd be happy and she can invite anyone." Yeong low-key let out a little drunk growl to press her point.

Yugyeom cooed at her before replying,

"And where will you live? Our apartment has only two rooms and both are occupied. Where do you plan to settle down instead?"

His question made her think harder than she ever had in life as she picked at her jutted out lower lip.

"Laundry room. You and me, will live in the laundry room because y/n needs a nice home."

"I already have a nice home yeongie." You took the opportunity, got up and reached out to pinch her cheeks, "but you won't know unless you are sober. Take her home, yugy. I'm also sleepy so I'll get going. See you on Tuesday."

" It's already 11. Let me drop you home." Jungkook suggested, startling you.

"No It-

"Yeah you drop her. I'll take Yeong and minjun home but help me in carrying their asses to the car please." Yugyeom pleaded. He left the bills on the table and took Yeong in his arms. You expected jungkook to do the same but he passed minjun your shoulders instead,

"Wait for me outside. I have to call someone first." and he walked away, his lover grinning on your shoulder like it was the funniest thing in the world but you were fine as long as their drunken state saved you from some heavy confrontation. The only person left was jungkook and you had the perfect idea to dodge him as well.

"So the same place or are you staying in the dorms this weekend?" He asked, driving out of the busy street.

"Just drop me at the nearest bus station. I'll ta-

"Nakamoto residence or the dorms y/n" you almost choked on the air as the word left his lips. Taking a bus home had seemed like the perfect plan but you had overvalued your common sense. Again.

"What are you talking about?" With hesitation evident in your voice, you muttered.

"Do you really think you'd go to a random house in front of me that I know nothing about and you'd be left alone without questions. I was there until the door was opened by someone. You really thought I'd have left you with a stranger. But i knew something was fishy when the receptionist told me that it's a home sweet home of Mr and Mrs nakamoto. Now spill before I get yugyeom to ask in his own way." He shifted the gears in frustration, your relaxed persona bothering him to no end. Getting jungkook wokred up wasn't a grunt work. He was like a matchstick, always ready to be ignited by any possible frictional surface.

"It's not what you are thin-

"Don't lie please," he started, words dangerously polite, "If he's your boyfriend then there's no need to hide y/n. We would always be there to support you. When, how, why, i don't want you to feel pressured to answer me. Just because you go around with no commitment tag doesn't mean we'd judge you if you ever got in a relationship. We love you. Make us part of your life like we do. Can't we just expect that much."

You gulped at how disappointed he sounded. He was right. You needed to include them in your life adventures but how were you supposed to explain him the riots you were dealing with. How were you supposed to spill everything without him getting his sword out. That would only lead to more troubles than you had the power to deal with. Trouble for you, him and for everyone who'd be passed that secrecy.

So you begged, for some more time until you'd be more than comfortable to let all of them into your present life.

Like every other word, this was also a lie that, in the first place, you never chose to proceed with.

He might have give in to you, but you knew eventually you'd have to muster up the courage to answer him and that day would decide another turn of your future.

And you would make sure, inter alia, to shift the wheels in a more likeable direction.

“Use your fists!”

Jungwoo’s grip was strong. His one arm was holding your waist and the other was around your neck. It was painful but you knew he wasn’t going to let go easily this time. This was the third consecutive scuffle or demo fight with him within the span of the last forty five minutes and having lost the last two, awfully at that, expectation of some mercy was not very demanding on your part. But only if he would grant that! You heard his chuckle as you wriggled in his hold. He was clearly having a lot more fun than you were. There was no way you could’ve applied renjun and hyuck’s advice but you still tried to follow their vague instructions.

“Bit his arm and turn.”

“No, don’t. Turn around and hit his torso with your knees.”

Bit him?

Halting your movements, a low grunt left your lips as you lowered your body and pressed your teeth on his flesh. He screeched and immediately retracted his arm. Taking advantage of his loosened grip on your waist, you whirled around and raised your knee to strike at his upper body. In an instant, your hands fell on your knees and you inhaled a harsh breath, regaining your strength. Jungwoo, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor like a baby. You wanted to laugh at him but the more astonishing thing was the lack of any noise from your cheerleaders. Right from the start, they were rooting for you like you were earning them some hard cash and now that you had done exactly what they had wanted, they were silent.

“Wha-

you opened your mouth to speak but their lack of attention held you back. Their eyes were fixed at Jungwoo,who still laid where he had landed.

“What did you do?” renjun shrieked.

“Exactly what you told me to!” you replied with heavy breathing.

“We said torso!”

“Yes and i hi-

Mechanically your hand slapped your face as you noticed the position of jungwoo’s hands. You had, mistakenly, kicked him in the groin which only meant more trouble for you.

“Save me.” you mouthed to hyuck and renjun while approaching jungwoo.

“Sorry teacher.” you mumbled.

He remained quiet for a few seconds and didn’t make any movement. When he did, you took a few steps back, afraid of his wrath. Palms down on the mat, he sat up and with painfully quiet voice spoke up,

“Looks like you won. Good j-job. I think i need to visit the medical room. You can go and celebrate.”

“Does it pain too much” pointing to his crotch and averting your eyes, you asked.

“No. not at all but i might need to adopt your kids someday. You know if i can’t make my own.”

“Sorry” you cried.

“Dismissed.” his civil tone, probably due to the ache, glued you in the position.

When you didn't move, donghyuck came, took you by your arm and guided you for the door.

"He's just being dramatic. Just chill. Another hit and he'd be good to go." He giggled and was soon joined by renjun as well, who was now crouching down in front of jungwoo.

"You sure?"

"If he doesn't then you can always give him your baby. Ofcourse after asking your husband." Only after he rambled, he realised what he had actually said. His face screamed surprise. To save him from spiralling into deep shame, you eased him by cutting off his apology,

"Ew hyuck. Give him one of yours if you want. Don't come for mine!" And you exited the door.

You were halfway through the basement when you realised the lack of your device. Running back, you were about to shout when you overheard their gossip.

"No, I'm telling you she meant to injure me so i won't teach her anymore or this might be the revenge of all the weapon training. Her knee is stronger than jeno's punch. Don't laugh at me you shits."

Jungwoo was whining.

"Haha. Yeah ok. But i told you renjun, she's physically stronger than her. Kind of totally opposite." Hyuck's voice quietened at the end but before he could speak further, you interrupted,

"Like who hyuck?"

Their faces went blank at your question and the reason of sudden heaviness in the air was beyond your contemplation.

"You don't want to answer? Fine. Maybe it's not my place to question." You simply stated before circling the mat to pick up your phone from the chair.

"No. It's not li-

"It's fine hyuck. Chill." You shrugged and walked away, deciding against pestering them for information that they clearly felt too uncomfortable to share.

"You need a fucking lock on your bloody mouth." was the last thing you heard before they were out of your hearing.

What was the need to ask something when you knew you won't ever get an answer out of them. Everyone was beyond friendly with you but still, there were some borders that nobody dared to cross. Maybe the mention of that woman was one of them. Fear of some unknown ghost of embarrassment was swallowing you whole when you heard grunts. Loud ones. You were still in the basement, the scuffle center being at the far end. The stairs were in front of you. The snarls and growls were coming from the other end of the basement. The election wasn't hard and you didn't want to give in to your curiosity but you did. Your feet, not cooperating with the voice in the back of your head that told you to turn away, took you ahead in the direction of the noise. Though the residence consisted of only one plot but the basement covered two. Unknown to everyone, the house next to B.N was also their property and it was only utilised for the underground space. Hence the never ending lane and the countless closed metal doors.

The echo got louder with each step you took. It’s been more than a month since you were visiting the basement but those noises had never crossed through you until today. The end doors were forbidden for you, according to what you were told but now that you were exposed to it, there was no chance of ignoring. No prudent person would ever overlook such a thing. That was the justification you were repeating as you took baby steps.

All the doors were closed except one at the very far end. You thought about peaking inside then halted as if your conscious called you. The whimpers also stopped for a minute or so but your heart skipped a few beats when a collision following with painful shriek reverberated in the empty space. The door, slightly ajar, was just a few strides away but you were too startled to even back away from your position. Same pattern of hit and shouts continued again. Unaware of the happenings, you stood there as If you were waiting for someone to separate you from the concrete beneath your feet.

Adding to your distress, the metal door opened abruptly and you realised, you were again at a place where you weren't meant to be.

"What are you doing here?" Jaehyun's growl broke you out of the unconscious state you had fell into. Mechanically, you eyes roamed across him to notice a body lying on the table inside the room, strained cries escaping his lips. The limp body was enough to put two and two together to conclude that he was being tortured. He was a victim of jaehyun's wrath.

"I asked what ar-

"Y/N!" he picked up his hand to touch your shoulders but you distanced yourself when you noticed the stains covering his clothing and hands, the blood red prominently visible even under the low light.

His gaze caught yours in time and his eyes softened noticing the fear in your body.

Very slowly, he reached out for you but immediately stopped, taking a note of your quivering lip.

"Hey. It-its not blood. I ca-can explai- Y/N!"

The yells of your name covered the whole arena as you rushed away, leaving a dazed jaehyun behind.

"Who was it jae?"

Jaehyun saw your trembling figure diminishing while you ran away from him as if you were disgusted by him. Not that he expected any other reaction, some good time has passed since someone innocent had came across their work. To say the least, it was never pleasant to have someone witness their harsh manners.

"JAE!"

"Y/n. She saw the body and also the blood."

He mumbled to ten whose visage, upon hearing, instantly mirrored jaehyun's.

"What about him?" Ten pointed to the man, "he's not speaking shit"

"Finish him off if you want. I need to handle something else now"

You raced as fast as you could have. You had never thought of yourself as a weak person but the sight was gruesome to just disregard and walk off. With shaking legs, you finally made it upstairs but the ringing, only became more earsplitting. Your hand harshly rubbed at your chest as you tried to defuse the tension bubbling in your whole body. After what felt like minutes, you covered your ears as if it would stop the ringing. It certainly did not but surprisingly it was muffled. You removed your hands and the blaring returned again. But this time, you laboured yourself to look into your surroundings. You saw chenle, jisung, jaemin running back and forth from the kitchen while doyoung seemed to be scolding jeno for something. Few others were also there, cleaning the couches and spraying some fragrance in the air. Everyone seemed to be their own turmoil, origin was which was yet to be known.

That's when it hit you. Maybe your ears weren't booming due to fright.

"Chenle"you screamed at the passing boy, "do you hear this sound?" You pointed your fingers in the air to exaggerate your point. He merely nodded before he went past you and the very next second the noise was reduced to mere buzzing. You inhaled sharply to regulate your heartbeat but failed due to the ruckus that enclosed you. Suddenly jaemin emerged,

"Why are you so disheveled? Go and change from these workout clothes. Uncle is outside. Didn't you hear the alarm." Only Half of his words entered your head and before you could come to your senses, you were interrupted again.

"Y/n my girl!" Whipping your head, you saw a familiar figure entering the threshold.

An old man that you surely had seen somewhere.

His voice was a lot stronger than his aged body which he was dragging along with the help of a walking stick.

Jaemin nudged you to greet him and you complied as soon as could have in your current state. Only when you got closer, you realised he was the same man you had met in the office celebration. You haven't seen him since then but he looked significantly weaker than before. Even with dark circles present, his face still was still shining with the smile he wore as he staggered inside.

"How's life treating you my kid" he asked, patting the empty space on the couch. You took the seat and replied in a small voice,

"I'm good. Everything is nice."

"Why am I smelling Jasmines this late in the evening?" He sniffed the air and galred at doyoung, " Do you take me for a fool? One thing! Cleaning. that is the only thing i ask of you. There are- how many of you are present since the morning. Answer me doyoung."

The man barked and doyoung muttered a sheepish apology, his head dropping with shame.

"Each one of you is nonsense. If you'd just clean up your stink once in a while, you'd save your money on the thousands of spray bottles you buy every month. But you thick heads only know how to shoot and punch. Now get me a glass of water before i die of this fake flowery smell"

He shouted like he owned the place and Maybe he did. Your mind and heart were not aligned up to comprehend the simple scenario that took place before you, the dizziness coming and going with intervals.

Then you were called again.

Looking at your right, your saw jaehyun standing, his face ridden of any colour.

You noticed his new shirt. There was no blood on it. His hands were also cleaned and you were stunned at how quickly your eyes were running on his body to find any trace of what you saw in the basement a few minutes ago.

"y/n, i need to talk to you"

For the first time, jaehyun's words were directed towards you without any poison in them.

You still didn't wish to face him so you moved yourself to face the old man.

"Y/n ple-

"Now you don't even greet your own father jung jaehyun."

He spoke with a steadier and louder voice that felt like it was only meant for jaehyun. The contrast in his tone was striking.

He was jaehyun's father.

"Sorry dad. I have something imp-

"I called you in the morning to inform yuta and taeil and yet i do not see anyone here. Do i need to die for you to respect me!"

You couldn't believe your ears when jaehyun answered in shuddering tone.

"Yu-yuta is not here."

He sounded like a child responding to his teacher, scared of some evaluation.

"Then call him."

"I mean he's away on business dad."

"Civil?"

It was like hearing Morse code.

"No."

"You sent him on a target place?"

"No. He's in Nice to collect information."

"Wow. Can you please clap your back for breaking the only sacred rule this family lives by?"

The silence in the extremely large living room was suffocating. This time, except you, everyone else was scared. And it still wasn't of any help.

"How dare you send a family man away on anything remotely dangerous. I thought you all were careful after taeil's incident but no. Nobody cares enough t-

Before he could complete, shaky coughs engulfed his body. Somehow, jaehyun grabbed him the moment he was about to fall from the couch. Doyoung ran for the kitchen while xiaojun, who was always too swift in his movements, came to the living room with a medical box.

You weren't sure what was happening with him or why he was being treated like some high mighty force or why he was so adamant on bringing yuta back but you could only pray that his wish won't be granted.

You weren't cruel but you were sure he'd be able to survive without that piece of shit roaming around.

You couldn't lose the few weeks you had without him.

Taeyong hands clutched yours like his life depended on you.

"Please please please y/n. It's been over a month since he's gone. I never withdraw from a deal. But this is an emergency. Uncle doesn't know you both were forced. He is a soft and weak hearted man. We cannot afford to tell him anything like this and clearly this would be seen as a betrayal to him. You both are nothing like what he's told but he doesn't need to need. He's the only father figure we have. Please just this time. I promise I won't ask anything from you after this. You do not need to live with him. he'd be here until two months are over. Please."

You lifted your brow at his last sentence and liberated your hands from his, feeling his trembling fingers.

"I don't see the need to lie anymore, taeyong. You can tell him the truth and be over with it. If he has jaehyun as a son, he must be used to hearing blatant lies. This won't be the only one, I'm sure of that." Crossing your arms, you coldly said.

"I know you hate me but please y/n. You know how it is to lose the only family member you have. We have no one besides him. Never had anyone before him. The least we can do is keep him happy until it's too late. Please. Just this time."

Gobbling down each word, you merely nodded at him. If it weren't for his glossy eyes, you'd have threw up on him right after the first pleading but you weren't heartless like him. He was right. You knew how it felt to lose your loved ones, a fate you would never wish upon anyone. Not even the person you despised the most.

"Thank you. I owe you this one kiddo." He hugged you and you pushed him away.

"Let me call him."

"Yuta!"

"Hmm"

"You need to come back immediately "

Taeyong spoke with urgency.

"Nope. I still have Three weeks and two days left." You heard his non-chalant words through the speaker.

"Yuta it's abou-

"Sorry I'm busy with my french girls. Call you later and please forget to take care of yourself."

And he hung up.

A smirk formed on your face watching the grim expressions of taeyong.

"Good luck convincing him and while you are going to explain him the difference between the French girls and the French monkeys he has mistaken as women, why don't you explain me what exactly jaehyun does in that other end of the basement. I love some good stories, taeyong. So let's hear how good of a storyteller are you!"

taglist :: @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl--ankhaeji @simplybree @ncttboo @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @/bralessmermaid

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter five: italian leather gloves

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.0K

A/N: so the smut warnings start to go into effect in this chapter, guys! i can’t believe how many kind messages i’ve gotten about this story. please just know that i read every single one and i promise they all make me so happy. i really hope you guys like this chapter and i hope it answers some questions. of course i must thank the squad @ladyartemesia @taetaewonderland @ppersonna for being an amazing support system and kick ass beta readers. love you guys.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

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

Everything hurts.

The moment you open your eyes, you wish you hadn’t. Late morning sun streams bright and unforgiving into your bedroom, making the ache in your temples even more pronounced. You spend a good ten minutes lying flat on your back, staring at the ceiling and remembering everything that went wrong last night.

So terribly, terribly wrong.

Your punishment today -- apart from the pounding headache and sour stomach -- is that despite doing your very best to drink yourself to blackout, you remember every minute of last night in painstaking detail. There’s a cruel clarity to the way your mind replays the awkward dinner with your boss and the confrontation with Donghyuk.

And your fight with Hoseok.

Shame curls in your gut when you recall the nasty things you’d said to try and get a rise out of him. The nasty things he’d said in return when your goading finally worked.

“People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties.”

It’s not like you didn’t already know Hoseok saw you as some kind of entitled rich bitch -- but that didn’t make hearing the words spoken out loud any easier. It didn’t make the anger you provoked in him any less jarring.

And it didn’t make the moment he saw your scar any less humiliating.

That’s when you feel like you might be sick -- when you remember the way Hoseok went completely still at the sight of your damaged skin. The way he’d tried so hard to look like he wasn’t staring and failed.

You get out of bed and slip an oversized sweatshirt over your head, take a few deep breaths to try and calm the wobbling sensation in your stomach.

That’s when it hits you.

You don’t smell coffee.

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

Kim Seokjin looks like he’s made himself quite at home when you finally work up the nerve to leave your bedroom. He’s reclined deep into your couch, long legs propped up on your living room table, tablet in hand. He looks up from the screen to take in your bedraggled appearance with wide eyes.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Something like that,” you say quietly. You make your way to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and Seokjin stands up from the couch to follow you.

“Hoseok, uh --”, he pauses for a moment, rubs one hand across the back of his neck, “ -- said he needed a couple of days to take care of some personal stuff.”

You pour lukewarm water into a glass, take one tentative sip and say nothing.

“So you’re stuck with me,” Seokjin continues slowly, “For a little while, anyway.”

You stare into your glass, unwilling to meet Seokjin’s eyes. It shouldn’t surprise you one bit that Hoseok took off after what happened between you last night. It probably shouldn’t hurt either.

But it does.

The little water you’ve managed to get down feels like it might come right back up.

“You okay?” Seokjin asks after a long pause.

“No,” you admit. “I don’t feel good. Probably going to stay in bed for the day, so it’ll be a quiet one for you.”

Seokjin nods sympathetically.

“You know what’s good for when you’re feeling sick?” he asks. “Samgyetang. I found some in your fridge. It’s pretty good too, kinda --”

Your stomach lurches at the mention of that goddamned soup.

You leave Seokjin mid-sentence to retch in the privacy of your bathroom.

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

The next time you open your eyes, it’s to complete darkness.

You wake disoriented, not sure if you’ve slept for hours or for days. The last thing you remember after getting sick was barely getting down some painkillers and a little more water before crawling back into bed.

Then it was lights out.

Physically, you feel better. The hammering headache is gone and the motion sickness is gone with it. But as you lie awake in the darkness, there’s no way to escape your tumultuous thoughts. The ones that keep going back to Hoseok and that fight.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to.”

No doubt the story of how you left the Gajog has been distorted over the years, passed between gossips in some twisted game of telephone. No doubt the story that’s told now is not about the scared teenager desperate for any semblance of stability; it’s about some spoiled little girl who decided she was too good for everyone else.

“People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

That was definitely the worst blow of the night, though.

There is just enough truth to that accusation to make it stick, to make it sting. You did walk away. You did leave your brother behind.

You run a hand through your hair and reach for your phone to check the time. 9:30 PM.

You feel almost human by the time you get out of the shower and walk out into the living room to find Seokjin dozing on the couch. You feel guilty for rousing him, but it’s his job. You know this is something you have to do right now.

“Jin,” you call out, nudging him gently. His eyes blink back, unfocused as he tries to get his bearings.

“Yeah?” he’s alert at once, looking around. “You okay?”

No, but I’m going to be.

“I’m alright. I need you to take me to see my brother.”

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

Namjoon has a beautiful penthouse on the water, a luxury apartment high above the Han River. But there’s no wife, no children waiting for him at home. Nothing in that place but echoing walls and modern art.

So he spends most of his nights at the office.

Seokjin called ahead, just in case -- but you knew your brother would be there. He’s still dressed in his suit, a tumbler of scotch in hand when you arrive. Seokjin doesn’t have to be asked to leave.

“You don’t look well, Amsaja,” he says quietly as you sit in the chair opposite his grand desk.

“You are not the first person to allude to that today,” you say with a humorless laugh. You look down at your giant sweatshirt and jeans, and shove a hand through your still-wet hair. “Message received.”

His eyes are soft with concern. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you say, blowing out a heavy breath. “Everything. I just -- I just needed to see you.”

You were still a little girl when you learned the hard way that tears were futile and pointless and only served to make you a target. But you feel them welling in your eyes anyway. The reflex feels foreign and rusty after so many years of disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon,” you choke out, voice thick. “So, so sorry.”

Namjoon sets his tumbler down on the heavy wood of his desk, walks around it and over to you. When he gets down on one knee and reaches out a hand to brush your cheek you don’t see the grown man at the helm of Seoul’s largest criminal empire. You see the brother who took care of you when no one else would.

Despite your best efforts to stop them, the tears come anyway.

Namjoon holds you close, strokes your hair while you cry into the jacket of his expensive suit. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just waits for your body to stop shaking with the force of your sobs and for your breathing to even out.

“Why did you let me leave?” you ask once you’ve managed to regain some control. “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

Namjoon sighs, standing to stretch his legs. He grabs his drink before walking over to the window to peer down at the lights streaking by below.

“One of us deserved to have a choice,” he says quietly. “It was never going to be me. I didn’t want the same for you.”

Your heart breaks all over again, hearing Namjoon say those words out loud. Your brother, born into a legacy he never asked for and a responsibility he could never run from. Your protector who let you walk away from the life he couldn’t escape.

“You saved me,” you whisper. “He would have killed me if I hadn’t left Seoul.”

“I know that,” Namjoon admits, “I saw it coming, too. The worse his drinking got -- I couldn’t let that happen. I refused to let that happen.”

You stand out of the chair to walk over to the window. Your brother’s profile is illuminated by the passing lights, mouth set in a grim line.

“You forced him to let me go.”

It’s not a question. Namjoon nods.

“I told him I would disappear if he didn’t let you leave. And then what? He’d have spent his entire life grooming me for nothing. He was just weak enough from the drinking to agree. He couldn’t fight me on it anymore.”

You shut your eyes against the fresh tears that come.

“I’ve been so selfish.”

“We’re all selfish, Amsaja,” he sighs. “We all want things we can’t have. That’s human nature.”

It makes your chest squeeze -- how desolate that admission sounds. You think about your brother’s massive, empty apartment. Who takes care of him? Who does he have to talk to? You swallow past the taste of guilt in your mouth.

“We could leave all of this behind, Jaegyueo. Start over. Make our own choices this time.”

Namjoon huffs a sad laugh into the rim of his glass.

“How I got here is not the point anymore,” he says. “You think if I dismantled this organization right now that all of this would just stop?”

He turns away from the window to look you in the eye.

“There would be ten syndicates ready to fill the hole we would leave overnight. And I promise you,” he shakes his head, “None of them would conduct business as neatly as we do. This organization keeps everything from going to shit. This is our way of balancing the scales.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look back out the window, out to the lights that make the city glow at this time of night. You know your brother is right.

This is his destiny.

“You talk about being selfish,” he continues quietly, “How’s this for selfish? No matter how much you’ve suffered in the past, I still want you here by my side. I still want you to come back.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“Namjoon, I --” He interrupts you with a raised hand.

“You don’t have to defend your stance. You have every right to leave this all behind you forever. Just know that you are the only person on this Earth that I trust without question.”

The ice in his scotch tinkles in the quiet of the office as he swirls the contents of the glass.

“Just know that there is a part of me that will always be waiting for you to come back.”

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

HOSEOK

Hoseok had to get out of there.

He had to put space between you and him or he was going to lose his mind.

Thankfully, Seokjin didn’t ask too many questions when he’d phoned in the middle of the night asking to be relieved for a few days. Seokjin didn’t press too hard when he asked about how you were doing and Hoseok nearly took his head off. And Seokjin hasn’t asked why Hoseok is texting him every day to make sure you’re alright.

Sometimes -- rarely -- Seokjin knows exactly when to shut the fuck up.

Hoseok knows he should be using this time to get his shit together.

He knows he’s this close to doing something stupid. He knows he’s got to figure out a way to release the pressure building inside of him before he explodes.

He thinks about how satisfying it would be to put his fist through Kang Donghyuk’s face.

He stares down the stone-and-glass entrance to Kang’s apartment from the driver’s seat of his car, one hand tight around the steering wheel. He tightens his grip on the wheel and loosens it, over and over and over.

A call comes through.

“Hey, it’s Jimin.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says flatly, eyes never leaving the entrance to that apartment building. “What’s up?”

“I already briefed Namjoon but he wanted me to call you, too. We finally got a hit on Lee Hyejin.”

Hoseok sits up straighter in his seat.

“What did you find?”

“We got access to her accounts. Regular payments, every two weeks -- coming through an offshore wire. Started about three months ago.”

“Shit,” Hoseok says under his breath. “A Ssijog account?”

“We’re still working on confirming that -- but yeah, like 99% sure.”

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face.

Who gets to break the news to you that your only friend has been fucking with your case -- fucking with your entire life? He thinks back to how blank and despondent you’d looked the night of the snake incident, how withdrawn you’d been the night of the charity dinner.

How much more of this pressure can you withstand before you explode?

“What about the guy?” Jimin asks, after the line is silent for too long. “Any news on him?”

“Not yet,” Hoseok murmurs, tightening his grip around the wheel again. “But it’s coming. I know it’s coming.”

“Okay. Tae is still trying to get a complete list of accounts linked to that offshore one. If we find out more, I’ll make sure you know right away.”

Hoseok ends the call just as another call comes in.

He takes one look at the screen and rubs his fingers across his tired eyes before sending it to voicemail.

He knows he could have handled the situation with Dae with more care. He knows he could have done more than end their casual arrangement with one call. Dae had been furious, demanding he give her some kind of explanation so she could understand why it was over.

Hoseok hadn’t been lying to her when he said he didn’t know why.

But as he sits in the dark -- staring at the entrance of Kang Donghyuk’s apartment building -- he considers for a moment that he might have been lying to himself.

His phone rings again.

“Jung,” Namjoon’s voice comes over the line. “You in the middle of something?”

“Nah,” Hoseok lies easily. “Just relaxing. What’s up?”

“Come have a drink with me.”

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

It’s nearly midnight by the time Hoseok makes it across town.

Namjoon appears to be in a contemplative mood tonight, glass of scotch in hand, long body leaned back into his plush chair.

“You’re off-duty tonight,” Namjoon says, taking a sip of his drink. “Scotch?”

Hoseok makes a face.

“Definitely not. Have any whiskey?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a bottle around here somewhere.”

Namjoon picks up his desk phone to reach his assistant, who makes quick work of finding a bottle and a clean glass. She delivers both with practiced silence before slipping out of the room.

Hoseok can’t help but notice his boss’s gaze lingering on the pretty young woman as she retreats. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s not an idiot.

Once he has a tumbler of whiskey in hand, Hoseok leans back into his own chair, undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt.

“Something specific you want to talk about?” he asks, sipping his drink.

“Just checking in,” Namjoon says quietly. “I’ve barely seen you these past few weeks. Want to make sure everything’s alright where you’re concerned.”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok says. “Jimin called me about the shit he found on the Lee girl, though.”

“Yeah. I don’t think my sister’s going to take that news well,” Namjoon murmurs. “She’s not exactly the trusting type. A betrayal like this -- ”

He trails off, abandoning one thought for another.

“Does she talk to you?”

Hoseok clears his throat.

He tries not to think about the last time he saw you and the terrible things you’d said to one another. He tries not to remember the look on your face before you turned away from him.

“Not really. Keeps to herself a lot.”

“Yeah, well. She’s had to put up with a lot of shit over the years,” Namjoon admits, rubbing his fingers across his lips. “She keeps things close to the vest.”

Hoseok sags deeper into the plush chair and takes a drink, welcomes the burn that comes with it. He already knows Namjoon is not looking for some kind of dialogue tonight. Namjoon is looking to unload.

Hoseok keeps quiet and lets him do just that.

“My sister has been punished for things beyond her control since the day she was born,” he continues. “My role was clear from day one and hers much less so. My father was too ignorant to figure out how to raise a little girl without a mother and too disinterested to even ask for help.”

Hoseok’s fingers tighten around his glass.

“She spent half her time trying to get his attention and the other half regretting when she finally did.”

The image of that scar comes into Hoseok’s mind, unbidden. The jagged lines of it, the deep indent of it. All of the tiny details that speak to the brutality behind the wound.

“He hurt her,” Hoseok says quietly, looking past Namjoon to stare out into lights outside the window.

“A thousand different ways,” Namjoon sighs, shoving a hand through his hair. “I did what I could, but I couldn’t keep her from all of it.”

The ice in his glass tinkles as he empties his drink.

“I know what people say about my sister, Hoseok,” Namjoon exhales. “None of them know what they’re talking about. She was going to be damned either way. She did what she had to do to survive.”

Hoseok swallows the last of his whiskey around the knot in his throat.

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

He almost took the night off.

Hoseok’s body could have used the rest, and his mind certainly could have, too. But every time he closes his eyes he sees you, hears your brother’s words.

The pressure inside him keeps building.

He woke up this morning thinking about that photograph inside Namjoon’s desk -- the one taken inside your apartment. The one taken while you were sleeping and at your most vulnerable, inside your own home.

Every cell in Hoseok’s body is telling him that Kang Donghyuk took that picture.

That’s why he’s in his car tonight, following Kang home from the office again. That’s why he’s pulled into a space just outside the man’s high-dollar highrise prepared for another night of waiting and watching.

Fuck, he’ll do it every night until he gets the answers he’s looking for.

A call comes in from Seokjin.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers on the first ring. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin sighs. “Quiet. She’s busy working in her room or something. Why do I have the feeling you’re not at your place taking the personal time you said you needed?”

“Mind your business,” Hoseok mutters.

Seokjin laughs.

“Honestly, I just called because I’m bored. Wondering if you ever plan on coming back to your post. I’m going out of -- “

“-- Shit,” Hoseok interrupts, sitting up straight in his seat. “I gotta go.”

He ends the call before Seokjin can ask why.

Hoseok squints against the dark when he sees Kang Donghyuk walk out of the entrance to his building. Kang stands on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants. Even from a distance, Hoseok can see he’s looking up and down the street.

He’s waiting for someone.

Hoseok’s entire body is tense as he watches a sleek silver car pull up outside the building’s entrance and Kang slip into the passenger seat. The car takes off and Hoseok’s pulse picks up.

This is it.

He waits until the sedan is a few hundred feet ahead to pull out into the street. He’s careful to keep pace with the surrounding traffic so he doesn’t give himself away. And after a short drive, the silver car parks outside a run-down warehouse in one of the shittier parts of the city.

Hoseok pulls into a dark space, cuts the ignition and hides the bright display of his phone.

He watches Kang Donghyuk get out of the passenger seat, followed by the driver of the car. A man Hoseok recognizes as Ssijog right away. The men have a short conversation in the street before disappearing into the warehouse.

Hoseok’s hand tightens around the steering wheel, then loosens. Again and again and again.

He knows the protocol. He knows he should have called this in five minutes ago.

He hasn’t.

He won’t.

Instead, he reaches into the console to pull out his favorite pair of Italian leather gloves.

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

Dressing the part has always served Hoseok well, even in this line of work.

Tonight -- his meticulously chosen suit and tie are his ticket inside Kang Donghyuk’s secure high-rise apartment building. Hoseok walks right past the security guard on duty so casually that the man barely looks in his direction.

It takes him only a few minutes to find the door to Kang’s apartment and the entrance to the service elevator nearby. Hoseok stands back into the recess and balls his hands into fists. He concentrates on the stretch of his leather gloves.

Then he waits.

Kang Donghyuk doesn’t keep him waiting long.

Just a short while later, he’s at his apartment door, fumbling with his keys. Hoseok waits until he nudges the door open before making his approach.

One firm hand to the back of the neck and one firm shove is all it takes.

Kang Donghyuk falls through the entrance to his apartment just as Hoseok is closing the door behind him. He rolls onto his back on the floor, eyes wide and sputtering.

“What the fuck man?”

Hoseok doesn’t bother to answer that.

He pulls out his pistol and points the barrel at the cowering man. Kang’s pupils blow wide and Hoseok feels a pulse of satisfaction at his obvious fear.

“Start talking,” Hoseok says, voice low and controlled.

“About what?” Kang squeaks -- voice slipping out an octave too high.

Hoseok clicks the pistol’s safety into place and off again just to ensure Kang hears the sound. The coward reacts immediately, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright man, I’ll talk. Just chill -- “ he wheezes. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

“I need to know everything, Kang,” Hoseok says between clenched teeth. “Start fucking talking.”

Donghyuk sits up slowly, hands raised and eyes fixed on Hoseok.

“They came to me a few months back. All they said is they wanted her to fuck up the case. That’s all, I swear.”

There’s no feeling of satisfaction for Hoseok when he hears the words spoken aloud. There’s no victory in confirming the guy he thought was a piece of shit all along is actually a piece of shit.

The pressure inside him continues to build.

“You’re working with the Lee girl?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits miserably, eyes unmoving from the barrel of Hoseok’s gun. “She would help me make copies of her keys and shit. She knew where the important files were, too. I mostly had to keep her out of the apartment when they needed to get in and -- ” he clears his throat, “ -- other stuff.”

Hoseok sees red.

Fury ignites inside of him at the innuendo packed into those two short words. His pistol seems to warm in his hand.

“You took that picture,” he whispers, finger tightening around the trigger. Donghyuk winces, swallows so hard Hoseok can see his Adam's apple jump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Donghyuk admits, curling in on himself. “They asked me to.”

Hoseok turns the gun in his hand so fast Donghyuk barely has the time to put his hands over his face again. He cracks the butt of his pistol against the side of Donghyuk’s skull and the man whimpers as he rolls over in pain.

The pistol whip should have been enough to take the edge off of Hoseok’s rage.

But it’s not enough.

He holsters his gun and Donghyuk stares up at him from the floor, terrified.

“Get up,” Hoseok hisses.

Blood has started to seep from a gash on the side of Donghyuk’s head but the man complies. He stumbles to his feet just in time for Hoseok to take him off balance again. He wraps one hand around the man’s throat and squeezes tight, pushing him back against a wall.

Donghyuk’s eyes bulge as Hoseok pins him to the wall with that hand.

“Never, ever --” Hoseok spits the words, grip crushing the man’s neck, “-- go near her again. Do you understand me? That’s not something I have to repeat even for someone as stupid as you, right?”

Donghyuk’s face is mottled, features frozen in fear as he attempts to nod his agreement.

Hoseok tightens his grip and the man starts to turn a satisfying shade of red. The color deepens as Hoseok squeezes harder and all he can think about is how easy it would be to end him, how just a few more seconds of this pressure could cause his windpipe to collapse. How one more hard press of his fingers could solve the problem of Kang Donghyuk forever.

But protocol.

Hoseok finally releases his grip on the man’s throat and Kang immediately slumps down the wall, into a pile on the floor. He gasps, hands clutched to his chest as he fights to regain his breath.

Hosok stands back, straightening his coat and adjusting his jacket underneath.

He gives Kang Donghyuk one last glance before walking to the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warns quietly. “I’d hate to have to pay you another visit.”

Hoseok waits for the door to click closed before pulling out his phone to call Namjoon in the quiet of the hallway. He’s a little breathless when his boss picks up on the first ring.

“Regarding Kang Donghyuk,” he murmurs. “There’s been a development.”

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

Namjoon’s call comes late the next afternoon.

“Hey,” Hoseok breathes into the receiver, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear. He drops his hand back into the bowl of ice water at his side. “What’s up?”

“I need you to come in,” his boss says evenly. “So we can discuss next steps.”

“Be there in ten.”

It’s a little pathetic, the way Hoseok perks up at having somewhere to be.

Even meeting with his boss to explain how he broke protocol and nearly choked a man to death beats sitting in his apartment, icing his sore hand. It sure as hell beats sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think about you.

Namjoon takes the news of Kang’s involvement and Hoseok’s insubordination surprisingly well.

He’d listened to Hoseok’s account of how he’d tracked Kang to the warehouse and ambushed him outside his apartment with quiet calm. Maybe it’s his imagination, but Hoseok could swear he almost saw Namjoon smile when he described pistol-whipping Kang inside his apartment.

Yoongi -- pragmatic as ever -- laid the options out plainly.

He argued that the Gajog could get rid of either Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk, but not both. Killing both, Yoongi reasoned, would put an entirely different kind of target on your back. Both Hoseok and Namjoon agreed with that assessment. Yoongi has always had a mind for strategy, even if his delivery leaves a bit to be desired.

Namjoon promised to think over the options before dismissing them both.

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

Hoseok’s hand still aches.

He’s been driving around the city for more than an hour now, not ready to go home and not certain which move to make next. Each turn of his steering wheel sends a throb of discomfort through his grip.

Fucking up Kang Donghyuk was satisfying, no doubt. But it’s not enough.

Hoseok doesn’t feel the sense of relief he’d expected to enjoy after choking that man to within an inch of his life. There’s still a dull ache inside his chest too insistent to ignore.

He tries to focus on the street signs that come and go, the traffic lights that glow against the backdrop of the setting sun. He drives until the night takes over completely and then he drives until he parks outside of your place.

When Hoseok cuts the ignition, it’s like he’s just come out of a fog. He looks up at your high-rise and takes a deep breath before climbing out of the car.

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

Seokjin’s bag must have already been packed.

After a quick debrief he’s out the door in seconds, leaving Hoseok alone inside the quiet apartment. He sinks down onto the couch and stares at your closed bedroom door.

He should knock, he thinks to himself.

He should get the apology sitting on the tip of his tongue out of the way so the two of you can move forward from what happened the other night. He should apologize for the way he’s treated you and he should beg for your forgiveness.

Hoseok scrubs a hand down his face before resolving to do just that -- at the same time your bedroom door opens. He watches you walk to the kitchen without so much as a glance in his direction and then he hears the sound of running water.

He follows you.

Hoseok worries for a split-second that you might drop the glass in your hand when you finally spot him.

“Oh,” you breathe, “It’s you.”

Hoseok thought the last time he’d seen you -- when you’d worn that incredible gown and pulled out every stop -- he thought that was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. But somehow that pales in comparison to how you look right now, figure swimming in an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose and framing your bare face. He can’t even bring himself to look lower because you’re wearing those godforsaken shorts. Has Seokjin seen you in those things?

His brain derails and it takes a moment to get back on track.

“Sorry,” he says slowly. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m back now.”

“Okay,” you exhale, setting your glass of water down.

“I’m sorry.”

Hoseok had planned on saying something a bit more heartfelt, something with a bit more depth. He had not intended on blurting out his apology the moment he saw you.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” you say softly. “I don’t want your pity or anyone else’s.”

Hoseok steps closer and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, a nervous gesture.

“That’s not what I said,” he insists, shaking his head. “I’m not sorry for you, I’m sorry for me. I’m sorry because I’m a fucking jerk.”

You blink back at him. “What?”

“I’m sorry -- ” Hoseok takes another step forward, “ -- that you have to put up with assholes like me who think they know everything about you when they really don’t know anything.”

Hoseok ignores the voice inside his head warning him not to press you too hard, not to take this too far.

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay,” he vows, stepping even closer.

You lean back against the heavy stone of your kitchen island, eyes wide.

“And fuck -- ” Hoseok practically chokes the words out, “-- fuck, I am so sorry for wanting you as badly as I do when I know I have no right.”

There is a moment after those words tumble out when Hoseok thinks he may have just fucked everything up for good. A moment when your mouth drops open but you say nothing and Hoseok is certain you’re going to make him leave.

But you don’t.

So he kisses you.

Hoseok swallows the sound of surprise you make when he slants his lips over yours. You reach your hands around his neck to pull him closer and go up on your tiptoes to make up for the difference in height. Hoseok groans into your mouth when your nails scrape against the back of his neck.

Any moment now -- any moment now he’s certain you’re going to come to your senses. You’re going to demand he take his filthy fucking hands off of you. He braces for it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you melt into his touch and whimper into his mouth and what’s left of Hoseok’s sanity evaporates. The sounds of panting and groaning echo off of the stone in the kitchen as you meld your body to his.

“I want you so much,” he whispers, gripping your waist to lift you onto the counter.

It’s easy to ignore the way his hand aches in protest when you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and sinking your fingers into his hair. His cock is so hard in his pants he feels like he might explode.

You pull away from him, breathless, to lift your sweatshirt over your head and Hoseok’s chest tightens at the flash of doubt that crosses your features. The heat that creeps into your cheeks when your scar is bared and on display.

He leans close to brush feather-light kisses against it, lips soft against the rough skin. “Every inch of you is perfect,” he whispers, sucking gently at the indent in your collarbone. “Just the way it is.”

You suck in a sharp breath and release it with a strangled sigh as your fingers grip the back of Hoseok’s neck. He trails kisses from your scar, slowly down your breast, onto one aching nipple.

“Hoseok -- please,” you beg. “I want -- “

Your plea breaks apart he takes your nipple into his mouth, teeth teasing at the straining bud.

“Tell me what you want,” Hoseok murmurs, burying his face into the soft skin between your breasts, “Tell me and I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

Your fingers fumble for his belt and Hoseok groans when you work it apart. There’s no way he’s ever been this hard -- ever. He’s certain he could come just from rutting against the counter with your voice in his ear.

“Hoseok,” you whisper again. “Hoseok -- “

He doesn’t catch on to the panic in your tone until you go rigid in his arms.

“There’s someone at the door,” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Shit.”

Hoseok shuts his eyes, leans his forehead against yours.

You slip out of his hold and he leans over the kitchen counter, arms braced against the stone while he tries to collect the last remaining scraps of his self-control. You pull your sweatshirt back overhead and run quietly to the door.

You’re back only a moment later.

“It’s my brother,” you whisper. “And Yoongi and some guy I don’t know.”

Holy shit.

Hoseok grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and silently wills his rigid cock to stand down. Thinking about Kim Namjoon’s face on the other side of that door helps, actually. It helps a lot.

The door knocker thuds again loudly and Hoseok can hear Namjoon’s voice coming from the hallway. You wait until he’s managed to straighten his shirt and secure his belt before opening the door.

He can see your brother’s frown from ten feet away.

“Hoseok should really be the one to answer the door, Amsaja,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Is he not here?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Hoseok calls out, hoping like hell that his voice sounds even. “Sorry. I was just -- uh, in the middle of something.”

Actually, I was trying to be in the middle of something. That something being your sister. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?

Yoongi looks between you and Hoseok and Namjoon but says nothing.

“So what’s going on?” Hoseok asks, desperate to move the conversation along. “Something wrong?”

“Jeon is going to stay over tonight,” Namjoon says, pointing to the youngest man on his team. Jungkook walks into the apartment and bows to you before taking a seat on the couch.

Namjoon nods at Yoongi before turning to Hoseok.

“The three of us have somewhere to be.”

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

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radiantroope · 4 years

Text

Never Let You Go || Rafe Cameron

pairing: rafe x routledge!reader; john b x sister!reader

mentions: jj, topper, big john, kie and pope briefly

requested: no

warnings: angst, swearing, underage drinking, is heartbreak a warning, fluff at the end

a/n: this idea popped into my head so here you go! hopefully y’all don’t hate it as much as i kinda do

masterlist || add yourself to my tag list

FLASHBACKS ARE IN ITALICS

* i do not own this gif; all credit goes to the owner

“Why won’t you look at me?” you asked softly, sitting on the soft, unmade king sized bed.

Rafe stood shirtless across the room, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He had his back to you. One hand was against the wall in a clenched fist, the other running through his long hair.

“Rafe.”

“What do you want me to say? Huh?!” he turned to you, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down.

“I don’t know, that you feel it too?! I would expect something a little more after I just said I love you!” you shouted, throwing your arms up exaggeratedly.

Rafe shook his head and let out a dark laugh. Something in his eyes changed and you felt a tug at your heart strings. After seeing each other for a year, you figured he would have the same feelings as you. Yeah you were never exclusive, but everyone knew you were together. Everyone knew Rafe wasn’t sleeping with anyone else.

“But I don’t, (Y/N). This has been sex, that’s all. Really good sex,” every word he spoke cut through you like a knife. Then he ripped out your heart and stomped on it right in front of you, “I could never love a Pogue like you.”

Just less than two years. You left home at seventeen and here you were, driving back through the same island you grew up on, almost nineteen now. Figure Eight looked just the same as it used to, a few newer, bigger houses were built. But it still looked the same. The Cut was no different. Your heart ached as you drove past the run down houses.

You arrived at the old house and parked behind the Volkswagen van. Memories flooded your brain of you and John B playing in the yard when you were younger. A frown pulled at your lips.

You walked up to the front door and tried the knob, turning it with ease and swinging it open. You grimaced slightly at the sight in front of you. Beer cans and bottles littered all the surfaces along with dead juul pods and joint roaches. The pullout couch was open and unmade. It wreaked of stale booze and marijuana.

“Dude, I’m telling you, they’re wrong. I’m not signing those fucking papers,” your heart rate sped up significantly when you heard that voice. He sounded so much older but still the same.

You stood in middle of the room as John B came out of your father’s old room. He did a double take, stopping dead in his tracks at the end of the small hallway. His hazel eyes were glued to your face like he’d seen a ghost.

“Hi, bubba,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

John B rushed to you, scooping you in his arms by the waist and squeezing you tight. You heard a choked sob leave his lips. One of your hands rested on the back of his head and the other arm wound tightly around his shoulders.

He was so much taller now. He looked like a full grown man. His hair was longer and his skin was tanner, more freckled than it used to be. But he was still the sweet little brother you remembered and adored.

“I’m here, shh, you’re okay,” you cooed softly, hand stroking over his curls gently.

“You’re all I have left,” John B’s broken voice had those tears falling immediately. You mentally kicked yourself for waiting so long to come home. You should have been here sooner. You’d gotten the call from Peterkin a month ago about your father’s disappearance, you just hadn’t worked up the nerve to return.

“What did I tell you? That’s why I told you to stay off the North side and stay away from those people!” Big John had been yelling for well over half an hour. Instead of comforting his daughter when she came home in tears, he was berating her. He scolded her for getting mixed up in the Kook life and falling for one of them.

“Do you think I meant for this to happen?! I was just doing what you told me to, Dad! I’m trying to make a better life for myself!”

“And how’s that working out for you? The real world ain’t pretty is it, sweetheart? Why don’t you be like your brother and get a real fucking job instead of mooching off rich scum!” Big John damn near flipped the kitchen table as he stood up. “If you don’t get your shit together, (Y/N), you may as well just leave.”

The office door slammed shut and you were left standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, hands shaking and angry tears streaming down your cheeks. In a hurry, you rushed into yours and John B’s shared bedroom. You pulled out the only two duffle bags you had and hastily started shoving your clothes in one. As many personal items as you could fit were shoved in the other.

John B sat crisscross in the middle of his bed. He’d been listening to you and your father fight the whole time. He knew what you were doing but he couldn’t let you go without a fight.

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” his voice was so small and pained. Your poor little brother was too young to have to deal with this. He had only just turned fifteen.

You stopped packing and stood up, turning to face John B slowly. He was staring up at you, tears swimming in his eyes. You walked over and sat down next to him.

“I can’t do this anymore, JB. I can’t live with him constantly looking at me like some failure,” you told your brother softly. It wasn’t just your father. Your fight with Rafe and everything he said was weighing heavy on your mind as well. You just wanted to get off that island and never look back.

“Then just make him happy! Do what he says and stay! I don’t want you to go.”

You smiled sadly and brushed your brother’s curls away from his eyes. You leant down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I wouldn’t be me if I did that, bubba. I wouldn’t be living my life,” you explained.

John B’s arms wrapped around your waist and he cried into your shoulder, knowing nothing he said would make you stay. You held him tightly to your side until his cries were mere sniffles. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up at you.

“I love you.”

You bit your trembling bottom lip and nodded, whispering, “I love you too, John B. Always. I’ll come back one day, I promise.”

“We need to throw a welcome back party,” JJ said from his spot on a chair on the screened in porch. He was rolling a joint, eyebrows knitted in concentration, eyes nearly crossed from how closely he held it to is face.

You were laid on the couch, hands behind your head as you stared up at the ceiling. You hummed in response, not completely opposed to the idea. One thing you missed about the OBX were the parties. People on the mainland just didn’t know how to do it like the islanders.

“Kegger at the Boneyard?” John B suggest from the chair beside JJ, eyebrows raised as he looked between the two of you.

“I’m always down for a kegger,” you responded while sitting up, letting out a small laugh. “Am I really about to go to a party with my little brother?”

John B scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Our parties are the best. You’ve been missing out.”

“I’ll just have to see that for myself won’t I?” you responded with a wink, standing from the couch and going into the house to get ready.

You went into your father’s old room and dig through your bags until you found a proper outfit. You took a quick shower to rid yourself of sweat and sand, using your favorite rose scented body wash. You knew there was a chance that you’d see Rafe tonight, and you wanted to make damn sure that you looked your best.

The party was in full swing at the Cameron house. Ward was away on a business trip, so Rafe was taking full advantage of having the house to himself. He kept checking his phone in hopes that he’d see a text with your name attached, but one never came.

Regret bubbled in the dirty blonde’s stomach at what he’d said to you a few days before. He hadn’t seen you since that night and he was craving the feeling of your lips on his. Usually if the two of you argued, it was only about a day before one of you was crawling back. He knew what he said probably hurt you so he was giving you your space.

Rafe’s eyes scanned over the crowd of people, hoping to see your familiar head of h/c hair. He didn’t find you. Instead, he made his way over to his best friend in hopes that maybe someone had seen you. You never missed a good party.

“Hey, Top, have you seen (Y/N)?”

The smile Topper had previously been wearing slowly fell. He glanced around the room and looked back at Rafe with an unreadable expression.

“Dude, what?” Rafe’s tone was annoyed. Clearly his friend knew something that he didn’t and he wanted him to spit it out.

“(Y/N)’s gone, Rafe. Word on the street is she ran away the other night. She left,” Topper told him.

Rafe stared at Topper with a blank expression, heart hammering against his chest. He turned quickly and made a beeline for the backdoor, ignoring the shouts of his name from behind him. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and needed to get out of that crowd.

The blonde Kook pulled out his phone and dialed your number, holding the device to his ear with a shaking hand. A dial tone pierced his ear before an automated voice came through.

“We’re sorry, but the number you’re trying to reach has been disconnected...”

Rafe hung up, breathing deeply through nose before trying again. The same message repeated back to him four more times. In anger, he threw his phone against the brick of the house with a shout. He ran his fingers through his long hair and tried to suck in a few shaky breaths.

“Fuck!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the house.

“Yo, chill out dude! What happened?” Topper approached his friend after seeing his outburst. He was shocked when Rafe turned to him with tears blurring his vision.

Rafe’s voice shook as he responded sadly, “She fucking left because of me!” He put his hands on top of his head and turned away. He didn’t know if Topper heard him, but he continued, even if he was just talking to himself, “I fucking told her I didn’t love her and now she’s gone.”

When you arrived at the Boneyard, Pope and Kiara already had one keg set up. John B and JJ carried a second one down to the sand. The were already a few people from The Cut there, catching word early of the party. You couldn’t stop smiling as John B passed you a cup of cheap beer.

You fiddled with the radio that was near the kegs until you found a good station. You turned the volume up and started dancing to the song that came on as you made your way back over to your brother and his friends.

“A toast!” JJ shouted, raising his red solo cup in the air. Everyone followed his actions with grins stretched across their lips. “To (Y/N) motherfucking Routledge! Welcome home!”

The five of you cheered and knocked your cups together then downed some of the bitter liquid. You grimaced as you forced it down your throat and shook your head in disgust. You did not miss warm, cheap beer.

A couple of hours passed and the Boneyard filled up with all kinds of people. Kids from The Cut, Tourons, and even Kooks. So far no one had started a turf war and you were thankful for that. You didn’t want to remember your first party back like that.

You had been chatting with a couple of your old friends near the bonfire when a blonde caught your eye through the flames. You excused yourself from the small group and made your way around the fire to the familiar person.

“Topper Thornton?” you spoke through a laugh, watching said boy turn around. He looked shocked at first then a wide smile stretched across his face.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, marching through the sand and wrapping you a welcomed hug. “When did you get back?!”

“Yesterday,” you responded with a smile when he pulled back. You found your eyes glancing at the people around him, looking for someone.

Topper noticed and his eyes drifted behind you, smile never leaving his face. You already knew who he was looking at so you didn’t bother turning around.

“You should talk to him.”

“I can’t, Topper. It’s been almost two years and I have nothing to say to him,” you sighed, bringing your cup up to your lips and taking a gulp of your beverage.

“Try, (Y/N). He was never the same when he found out you were gone. He’s been fucked up over it ever since,” the blonde boy tried to reason with you.

He fell silent and looked to his right just as you felt a presence beside you. You looked up and directly into the bright blue eyes you fell in love with. The eyes you still dreamt about. The eyes you desperately missed after all this time. They were your favorite shade of blue.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Rafe said nervously, clutching a red cup in his fingers. His other hand was shoved in the pocket of his shorts. He heard the rumors that you were back. He came to the party to see for himself if it was true.

The sound of his voice was a shot to the heart. You almost forgot what it sounded like for him to say your name. You felt dizzy, like you couldn’t breathe and suddenly, you regretted agreeing to this stupid party in the first place. Without a word, you spun on your heel and started walking away.

“Wait,” Rafe called after you, following your quick steps down the beach. “(Y/N) wait!”

“What?! What Rafe?” you screamed as you turned around quickly to face the dirty blonde. You had made it pretty far down the beach, just barely able to hear the music.

“I-I haven’t seen you in almost two years and you don’t even want to talk to me?” he had stopped as well, standing a few feet away from you.

You scoffed and shook your head, running a hand through your hair. You had dropped your cup back where you walked away from Topper. Getting drunk was the last thing on your mind now.

“What did you expect? Hm?” you questioned, taking a menacing step closer to the man in front of you. “Did you really think the first thing I’d do was come to you and beg you to take me back? Expect me to crawl into bed with you?”

“No- I-”

“So you can tell me i was just a good fuck and that’s it?!” you were thankful no one lived in the woods behind you or the cops would have surly been called at the volume you were yelling at.

“I didn’t say it like that!” Rafe yelled back, also taking a step closer to you.

“Ah, you’re right,” you smacked your lips and held a finger to your chin in mock thought. “Your exact words were actually ‘this has been sex, that’s all. Really good sex. I could never love a Pogue like you.”

You were staring at each other now. Rafe was frowning and your eyes were like a fire burning into him. He remained silent.

“That’s right, Rafe. I never forgot. Those words still haunt me to this day.”

He never forgot either. He would regret saying them until the day he died. And he didn’t care if he had to spend forever making it up to. He would give anything to take it all back and maybe you would have stayed.

“I didn’t mean it,” Rafe’s voice shook. “I was.. I was scared.”

“Bullshit,” you muttered and turned to walk away again. He caught your wrist and spun you back around, his face within inches of yours.

“You can believe it or not, I don’t care. I love you, (Y/N). I always have and I was a fucking idiot to make you think I didn’t,” his voice was softer now, ocean blue eyes staring into your e/c ones. You saw no trace of dishonesty on his face. You could see nothing but pure regret and guilt in his eyes. “I was scared of loving you. I didn’t deserve to be loved by you so I pushed you away. We were so young I didn’t think we could even be in love. I will never be able to take back the pain I caused you, but I swear, I will try and make it up to you for the rest of my life.”

Rafe’s grip slowly released on your wrist. If you wanted to walk away, he was going to let you. He said everything he needed to say, and he meant every word. He was shocked when your hands came up and cupped his cheeks. Your touch was delicate, like you were going to break him.

The truth was, he said everything you’d been waiting to hear for the last two years. Deep down you knew that’s exactly what he was doing back then but you were just too hurt to do anything about it. The fighting with your father just piled on top of that, so you ran away from it all. Here and now, you were ready to let go of that painful past. You were ready to be loved by Rafe Cameron.

“Say it again,” you whispered, hands winding around the back of his neck.

“I love you, (Y/N) Routledge,” Rafe’s voice was confident, hands finding their way to your waist. He pulled you closer, until your chests were pressed together and you could feel the rapid beating of the other’s heart.

You pulled his head down and connected your lips in one of the most mind blowing kisses you’d ever had. Two years of pent up emotions came pouring out. Your lips moved in synchronization desperately, savoring each second; making up for lost time. His arms wound around your back and lifted you, your legs wrapping around his hips.

Rafe pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, soft pants leaving his parted lips. You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a giddy schoolgirl. John B was going to kill you when he found out, but that thought was quickly pushed away.

“I’ll never let you go again,” Rafe whispered through a smile before reconnecting your lips.

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anarchyduck · 3 years

Text

Peas in a Pod

Day 20 Alt Prompt: De-Aged

(posted it on AO3 yesterday, forgot to post it here oops) AO3

----------------------

“So let me get this straight,” - Tony massages his temple in effort to soothe his growing headache - “There was a wizard.”

“Yeah,” Ned nods. “And he was shooting off fireballs, like real fireballs, and it was awesome and kinda scary and-”

“Ned. Ned. Find the shortcut to the point. Because nothing explains” - Tony gestures towards the couch - “that.”

Ned blushes with embarrassment and nods . “Right! Sorry, sir. So, uhm, Pete was fighting the wizard guy and he was doing really good! Was totally kicking his ass! And then the wizard like, shot him with some kind of purplish black energy ray stuff? Like it shot right out of his hands. Then the wizard was gone and Pete was… like this.”

Tony eyes the kid on the couch. Same curly brown hair. Same doe brown eyes. It’s everything else that’s wrong. Peter is sixteen, a teenager, and this kid looks like he’s no more than five years old.

As for Peter, well, he looks content watching videos on Ned’s phone. Some children’s cartoon about dogs or something, Tony didn’t quite catch it. But the kid likes it and he isn’t crying anymore so Tony counts that as a win. Judging from the confused state the kid was in upon arrival, it’s safe to assume Peter’s memories are wiped. Or, rather, memories of his life in the present day which is a problem in and of itself.

“So,” Ned’s drawl catches his attention. “What are we going to do?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “We?” he shakes his head. “No, no, you are going home.”

“What about Peter?”

Yeah Stark, what about Peter?

“He’ll go with his aunt.” Tony says simply. Easy enough solution.

“You mean you can’t like, fix him?” Ned asks. “What if he ends up staying like this forever?”

Tony waves off the teen’s concerns. “He won’t.” he assures. “Whatever the wizard guy hit him with will probably wear off in a couple hours. Easy peasy.” After all, the kid couldn’t stay like this forever, could he? That is just absurd.

----------

The effects don’t wear off.

Two hours later and Peter is still a child. Ned is gone, reluctantly dragged out by Happy who also delivered clothes that fit the kid better so he’s no longer swimming in the Doctor Who shirt Tony assumed belonged to one of the boys. During that time, Tony contacts May to fill her in on what’s going on. The woman is stuck at work (“We’re incredibly short staffed today, it’s ridiculous.”) and unable to leave before her shift is over.

It leaves Tony in charge of the kid which, while normally wouldn’t be an issue, he suddenly finds himself out of his depth. Teenagers, he can handle. No problem. They could be reasoned with. But small children?

“Mr. Tony?”

Tony jumps, spinning on hell with his hand pressed firmly against his heart. “Holy shit!” he gasps.

Peter flinches back, eyes wide and looking as startled as Tony feels. Then his bottom lip begins to quiver.

“No no, don’t cry.” Tony says in a rush. “I didn’t mean to scare you, kid. You snuck up on me. Ought to put a bell on you someday.”

That earns him a giggle which washes away the rising guilt. “Uncle Ben says that too.” Peter says. “Says I’m really good at sneaking.”

“You are good at sneaking.” Tony affirms. “What are you doing down here anyway? Thought you were watching TV?” Least that’s where Tony left him. Kid was content with watching the cartoon with the dogs and he figured he could get some work done tracking down the wizard guy.

“I was, but it’s over now.” Peter says dismissively, his eyes already wandering the workshop. Then he actually begins to wander. Tony watches him, contemplating on whether it’s a good idea to let a four year old wander his workshop. It isn’t exactly kid proof and if he knows anything about kids (which is very limited) it’s they like to touch everything. And put things in their mouths.

“What’s that?” Peter asks and Tony leans to the side to look past the monitors and equipment to see what the boy is pointing at.

“Oh that’s DUM-E.”

The robot chirps in response, clicking it’s claw as it peers curiously at the boy. Tony takes a couple steps towards them, immediately thinking Peter might fear the robot. Much to his relief, the boy’s mouth is agape with wonder and eyes equally wide.

“Wow!” he gasps. “Hi DUM-E. I’m Peter.” Peter reaches up to pet DUM-E’s extended arm, giggling as the robot chirps at him. “So is he a robot?”

“Yep. I made him.”

“You made him?” Peter gives him the same look of wonder and amazement. “Wow. Are there other stuff you’ve made?”

“I’ve made a lot of stuff.”

And so Tony gives the kid a proper tour of the workshop. Like his older self, Peter is sharp minded and incredibly smart. He asks questions Tony doesn’t think a four year old would know to ask and hangs onto every word Tony says. When he introduces Peter to FRIDAY, the kid is so ecstatic he can’t sit still. It warms his heart to know Peter keeps that same excitement as he aged.

After the tour, Tony brings him into the kitchen to feed him a late lunch. The kid sits on the kitchen counter next to him, watching Tony’s every move. PB&J sandwiches are the easiest thing he can fix and turns out to be the kid’s favorite.

“So you’re a superhero?” Peter asks curiously.

“Sometimes.” Tony replies as he spreads the peanut butter onto the bread.

“Like Batman?”

“Kiddo, I am way cooler and richer than Batman.”

Peter giggles and Tony thinks it might be the cutest goddamn thing he’s heard all day.

“My daddy is like you.” the kid says suddenly.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Tony asks, finding himself equally curious. He knows through his early research into Peter Parker that the boy’s parents are deceased. Father worked for OsCorp, mother worked for some type of law firm. Aside from the atrocious choice of working at OsCorp, both of them seemed relatively normal.

“Because he makes stuff. B-But not robots like you do. He makes other stuff and-and he white wears a coat and he helps people.” Peter gives a long, wistful sigh then and adds, “I want my daddy and mommy.”

Tony freezes, butter knife stuck in the jar of jelly. Quite suddenly he remembers something else about Peter’s parents.

They both died in a plane crash.

When Peter was four years old.

The man internally panics, mind going blank on what to do, what to say because what can you say?

“Mr. Tony?” Peter’s little voice draws him from his internal crisis. He tilts his head, looking at him curiously and, dare Tony say it, concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony sniffs and finishes up the kid’s sandwich. “Yeah, totally fine kiddo. A-OK. So you want this cut up?”

“Yes.” Peter replies, apparently moved on from the incident. Yet, as Tony puts the knife to bread in order to cut, the kid shouts, “No! No no, not like that! You have’ta make the X.”

“Huh?” Tony looks a little helplessly from the kid to the bread.

“The X!” Peter leans over and traces an X on the sandwich. “Like that!”

Tony cuts it up according to the kid’s desire and it’s only then that he sees what the kid means. “Yeah, guess it does look like an X when you cut it, huh? Well, here you go kiddo. Eat up.” He slides the plate to the boy’s side.

Peter takes a large bite and hums with approval as he chews. “‘Ood yob!” he says around his mouthful. It’s the additional thumbs up that makes Tony chuckle. He grabs a juice box from the fridge for the kid, something teenage Peter would have rolled his eyes and grumbled about. Toddler Peter says a polite ‘thank you’ and picks it up with fingers covered in grape jelly.

He decides to capture the moment for May and pulls out his phone. “Heads up, kiddo.” he says and takes a picture. Peter is caught in a half smile, peanut butter smeared on the corner of his mouth. There’s a glob of jelly on his shirt that’s run down the image of Thor’s hammer.

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Peter instantly demands.

Tony moves to stand next to him and flips the phone for the kid to see the picture. Peter grins and immediately reaches for the phone. “Uh uh, sticky fingers.” Tony says, which gets the kid giggling about being called ‘sticky fingers’. He moves the phone out of reach and sends the image off to May.

“So,” Tony says. “What do you want to do after lunch? TV? Go play with DUM-E? Whatever that wannabe Merlin did to you took away your powers, or maybe just suppressed them. Maybe we ought to run some tests to figure that out.”

On second thought, maybe not. Teenager Peter detests needles; he imagines little Peter hates them just as much.

“DUM-E!” Peter says excitedly.

“You’re going to spoil that bot, kid.”

---

“Thank you so much, Happy.” May says as she steps into the Tower’s elevator. “You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have drove.”

Happy directs FRIDAY to take them to the penthouse then shakes his head. “It’s no problem.” he says. “Boss wanted to make sure you got here quickly and with that guy who attacked Peter still running around-”

“Right.” May sighs. “Well, guess he could have done worse things than turn Peter younger. At least him and Tony seem to be hitting it off.” She smiles fondly as she recalls the image Tony sent her. She only hopes Peter has been good while they wait for her.

“Yeah, well, the kid’s grown on him.”

“I feel a little jealous, honestly.” May admits. “Peter was so cute when he was little.”

The elevator comes to a stop, the doors slide open to the entrance of the penthouse. It’s oddly quiet inside and the lights are dimmed. “Tony?” Happy calls out as he and May walk through the foyer into the living room.

It looks like a tornado hit it. There are papers thrown about with childish drawings covering them. A sheet covers the kitchen table which has been pulled away from the dining area and there are mini marshmallows covering the floor with some sticking to the large windows that overlook the city. A device that looks like a mini catapult sits on top of the table next to a pile of marshmallows and markers.

May follows the chaos, finding the TV on with the Incredibles playing on a low volume and both Tony and Peter fast asleep on the couch. Peter is still a toddler in every way May remembers, sleeping with his head on Tony’s chest. There are stickers on their faces and she spots marker smears not only on Peter’s arm but also on the hand that’s resting on Peter’s back.

“Did you find-” Happy starts, quietened as May shushes him. He comes to her side, expression softening at the sight. “Least they kept each other busy.” he remarks.

May nods in agreement as she pulls out her phone to take a quick picture of the two. “Like two peas in a pod.”

#webpril 2021 day 20 #webpril 2021 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #ned leeds #may parker #happy hogan #spiderman #spider-man #iron man #marvel #mcu #duckie's writing

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monst · 4 years

Text

Imposter: Medbay

Part 3: Medbay

An interactive bnha among us au:

Word count: 2,780

Warnings: This series contains descriptions of murder and dismemberment, Deception and morally questionable actions, Angst and betrayal.

Tw: Death, No voting today but next update be prepared to eject someone...

Masterlist -> Here

Taglist: @redbeanteax @tspice283 @kurinhimenezu @simpforeveryone @ queenlibra134 @thewheezingwyvern

Your ass was beginning to numb, the firm material of the cot had long since become uncomfortable but there was not much else you could do but sit and observe. Amajiki was standing over various vials of russet liquid. At first you had been intrigued with the whirring of the machine watching as it prepped the blood to be analyzed, you sponged every word the doctor said finding all the little tidbits of information fascinating.

Three hours later...well they weren’t as fascinating anymore. The mess of wires and scanners job was to speed up the process yet there had been no results and you for the umpteeth time a sigh slipped past your lips and fog happily clouded your visor. From your spot you heard the dark haired man chuckle at your expense.

“It’ll only be a couple more hours (Name).” He informed.

“Yay more waiting.” You deadpanned. “I dunno how you do it Tama.”

A shrug lifted his shoulders and he carefully pulled up a vial with a pair of tongs. “I do it because I like it.” He mused as if it were obvious. “It’s akin to if I asked you why you like lasers.”

“It’s totally not the same thing.” You laughed. Amajiki was easy going if not a bit jittery, the last few hours with him taught you that although he was a bit shy he wasn’t a pushover. The proof of that lied in the empty cups of coffee you had been instructed to get him.

“That’s...Odd.” You heard him murmur.

“Hmm? What is?” Your legs pricked at standing up so quickly, a dull hum of electricity making them tingle and pulse. Your legs wobbled a bit as blood flowed back into them and as soon as you were able to you were quickly peering over his shoulder to see the ‘oddity’.

“....It’s a vial of blood.” You sighed not seeing anything remotely different.

“I thought I explained it to you?” He sighed. “When a Sticur hijacks a body it breaks it down, depending on the blood type and antigens present the deconstruction can either be quick or slow, or in the case of your blood not at all.” He relayed, holding up the sample of your blood.

“Huh… Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You asked.

“I’d wager it’s more of a bad thing.” He concluded. “Sure your body won’t break down but that just means the parasite has a sturdy and durable host. That and it makes it practically impossible for me to tell if your it’s current host.”

“...So that’s why you tested my sample first?” You snorted.

“Well if we’re going to be together for a while I need to make sure it’s not you, not that you’d give off any signs like hair whitening and the reddening of your scalera. Hmm there might be another way to tell…”

“And that way is?” You pressed, eager to show you weren’t ‘infected’ so to speak.

You could see his eyes furrow beneath his visor, a bubbling red staining his cheeks. He turned around and opened a top cabinet and pulled out a plastic cup.

“Ughh you’ve got to be kidding me!?” You groaned. He gave you a timid smile. “Wait I can’t leave you alone.”

“Don’t worry I’ll be fine.” He reassured, you were still hesitant but he quickly showed you that the taser in Bakugou’s possession wasn’t the only weapon aboard. And as you walked to the cafeteria to get to the bathroom you wondered if anyone else knew that the doctor had a couple scalpels on hand…

Once in the cafeteria you beelined it towards the restroom, you hastily locked the door then began to remove the bulky suit. You had no issues with said unisex bathroom. It was a large space with a couple of stalls, sectioned off to the left were the showers. As almost everything on the vessel, it was in pristine condition but right now the clear reflective metal of the floor sent shivers down your spine. The silence in the large room was deafening and you quickly did your business, you sprang to wash your hands and shimmied the black suit on in record time.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the vent pumping air into the space came to life, the rushing wind sound filled the room with an ominous pressure that had you sprinting out of there and rushing towards the medbay. You had just entered the hall, your eyes catching the sight of the soft blue glow of the room, just as you were about to a approach-

-Shlap-

You almost lost your footing as you reared back, the metallic door nearly swiping your face clean off. You exclaimed loudly, shock paralyzing your bones for a moment until panic began to seep into your pores. You came down on the door, your gloved fists hammering the metal.

“Tamaki!” You called. Your mind raced, all manner of horrid happenings flashing across your brain. You had caught a glimpse of Tamaki’s back, he seemed to have been none the wiser when the door shut. And to you that could only mean one thing.

“Fuck!” You swore, you struggled to pry the heavy doors open but only succeeded in bending your nails beneath your gloves. To make matters worse you couldn’t hear anything. The only sounds that accompanied your relentless assault on the door was the typical hum of Oxygen being pumped through filters. Dread encompassed your trembling bones, you weren’t sure if the silence of the room was more terrifying than if you would have been able to hear.

Your cheeks were wet with tears when the door finally opened. Without a second thought you raced inside all thoughts of self-preservation abandoned as you took in the sight of the medbay. Your jaw slackened at the sight. The room was a disaster, test tubes were shattered onto the ground, their continents painting the wall like splatter art. The machine running the test was in terrible shape, a mess of stringed wires laid out of an open flap, it sickenly reminded you of intestines.

Your eyes searched the room frantically, until you finally saw a body. You rushed over to the purple suit and hauled off the heavy slab of mattress that laid upon him. You let out a long chorus of nos as you tried to check for any signs of life. To your immense relief you couldn’t spot any lacerations. You quickly deduced that he must have lost consciousness and you hauled him over to another cot a million questions on your mind. You didn’t see anyone else in the room and you could feel the rush of adrenaline in your blood at the implication.

You rushed towards the drawer Tamaki had shown you before you left but the scalpels were missing. With nothing to defend yourself with you proceeded to bind the doctor with makeshift binds. You had finished the last knot and almost as if on cue he began to stir. He groaned, and you could only guess at how he was feeling. He removed his helmet and sat up with a wince. He tried to move his hand to the back of his head when he noticed that his wrists were bound.

“I don’t blame you.” He sighed. “It looks really suspicious from your end but I promise it wasn’t me.”

“...Then what...Happened?”

“I don’t even know.” He breathed. “One moment I’m picking up Shinsou’s vial and the next the door slammed shut. Before I could even react someone pushed me and tossed one of these at me.” He recounted, fingers tapping the mattress.

“I hit my head on the floor and everything spun for a minute. I saw a figure but everything was blurry...they were going to kill me but the door opened..The vent!” He shouted suddenly. His indigo eyes burned into your as he motioned towards the vent. “I’m positive that’s how they got away.”

“..But those vents are tiny, it’d be hard for a grown person to fit in there comfortably let alone one wearing this.” You reasoned, pinching the fabric of your suit.

“It’s probably messing with its host’s skeletal structure.” Tamaki mused. “This could really help us figure out who it is.”

He motioned for you to undo his bindings and you decided to take that gamble and trust him. “The equipment’s wrecked.” He huffed.

“So how are we going to figure it out if it’s broken?” You asked.

“Two ways, the easy and dangerous way is to look for common signs, odd skeletal protrusions and unnatural movement included since they literally slid through a vent.”

“And the other?” You pressed.

“The hard and fast way, we fix the machine and get more samples.” He summarized. “Luckily we have the necessary items to fix it in the storage area, we’ll grab the items and then come back. Hopefully by the time we come back the others will be taking a break in the cafeteria. We’ll tell them about the venting and grab more samples but for now.” He stood up with a wobbly and motioned you over. You didn’t hesitate in grabbing the heavy table, helping him slide it a top the vent.

You both decided to walk through the cafeteira and head straight down as opposed to going the long way. To your annoyance the storage room was dimly lit.

“You’d think that the Captain would have all the lights on at full power.” You huffed.

“If he did that than other areas that are more important would get less energy.” Tamaki answered as he continued to souffle through boxes.

“But still we're kinda in a situation where maybe having everything bright will help us see better….Oh I think I found it!” You chimed pointing at a thick box that laid underneath various others.

“...Yeah that’s it alright.” The both of you set to work on freeing the box like a game of mahjong.

“Careful.” He grunted, as he helped you lift a heavy box.

“Hey guys what’s up?!” The box tumbled to the ground, it’s continents shattering when it kissed the floor. “Were those the backup light-bulbs?”

Your heart did a somersault when you heard a voice other than Tamaki’s, Mirio’s sudden presence spooked you, his lime green suit was hidden by tendrils of dark shadows. The glare of the low light reflected off his visor not allowing either of you to see his face. All in all he looked rather ominous and the fact that Tamaki bumped into the box behind him was proof enough that you weren’t the only one to think so. The both of you stared up at Mirio from your spot on the ground, ever so slightly you would inch back scared by his silence.

As far as you have come to notice silence never came alone. “Ha!” He laughed, not knowing how hard that sound made you tense. “You guys should see the look on your faces.” He chuckled. “Relax I’m not possessed by some demon alien from hell.” He continued raising his hands to show he meant no harm.

Tamaki relaxed first, his brows furrowing, annoyed at the heart stopping scare. He made it a point to tell the gleeful blonde that his scare wasn’t appreciated.

“Yeah now’s not the time to be playing like that.” You huffed allowing your heart rate to sink to normal. “And why are you here alone? Weren’t you paired with Bakugou?” You asked looking around for the other blonde security guard.

“Oh yeah, I left him in the security room.” He shrugged. “We saw you guys heading down here from admin, there aren’t any cameras in here so Bakugou asked me to come down here to make sure you guys were safe.”

“But why didn’t the both of you come?” Tamaki asked.

“Well you know how Bakugou is, He said there was something odd going on with someone, apparently they moved from room to room oddly, almost appearing out of nowhere, personally I think he’s getting paranoid so I left him checking that, that and he’s got the taser and his fists.” Mirio chuckled.

“You know I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” You hummed. “Why is it that Bakugou has the taser and not you? Aren’t you in a higher position?” You asked.

“Well yes I am... but he wanted it more than me, and as the bigger person I let him have it.” Mirio winked. You snorted but Mirio continued, “But in all honesty, Bakugou is someone I trust with my life so there was no reason as to why I wouldn’t have relented, he’s a hot head but he’s incredibly loyal-

“Togata.” Tamaki interrupted, you both turned to him as he had gasped out his friends name, his face was sheet white, his pupils shrunken down to pen points.

“You okay you don’t loo-

“I-Is there a vent in the security room?” He whispered.

“Vent? Yeah I think there’s one. Why?”

You felt your pulse slow, time seeming to freeze as the weight of what Tamaki was implying hit you. Your head turned so quickly towards the dark-haired man that you heard the sharp pop of your neck. “Y-You mean? Oh god..”

“Hey what’s up with you two?” The both of you didn’t give Mirio another thought as you got to your feet and began to sprint down the hall. The buffy blonde quickly pursued. He shouted at Tamaki demanding why the both of you were acting so cryptic.

“Vents! The parasite is using the vents to get around!?” Tamaki yelled back.

“Shit.” Mirio cursed, his legs propelling him ahead of both of you, the lot of you rushed past the lower engine room and quickly turned the corner to see what you feared.

Shindo was pounding on the metal of the door, He jumped in shock when he saw the three of you. “I don’t know what the hell is going on?!” He shouted “I was in the reactor room with Deku when he suddenly walked out, I didn’t think anything of it till I heard him scream, When I ran out to see this door was closed.” He rushed through his words panic lacing his tone.

“Do you think he closed it?” He added.

“No, it was the imposter.” Tamaki hissed. “He can somehow close the doors.”

“Shindo do something!?” You shouted, tugging at his pink suit. Mirio was crashing against the door to no avail but you knew Shinso could open it. “Hack into the mainframe and unlock it.”

“Oh fuck yes! Your right!” He pulled out a device from his suit and connected it to the pad on the door. “C’mon work.” He hissed. You looked down to what he was doing then up towards the door.

“It’ll be okay. They’ll be okay. Bakugou is one hell of a fighter and Deku is nothing to sneeze at.” mirio tried to reassure. But his pacing let you know that he was worried. Your heart thumped loudly with every second that passed, the door was still locked and Shindo seemed to be sweating, tapping on the device harshly as it refused to cooperate.

“C’mon can’t you make it open?” Tamaki mumbled. “Weren’t you bragging about being great at this.”

“S-shut up, I’m under a lot of pressure right now and something is jammin- ah I got it!” You all breathed a sigh of relief as the door parted. You wished the door had remained shut. And you wished you could unsee what you saw. And you wished you could unhear Deku’s anguished screams as he held Bakugou’s unmoving body close..

#bnha among us #bnha among us au #Mirio Togata #Tamaki Amajiki #izuku midoriya #shindo yo #bnha x reader #tw: death

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