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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Note

big sister snail 🫰🏻

plz a garp fluff

(mad daddy issues mmkkm)

Bonnie Lass

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,659

Summary: As the assistant to one of the warlords of the seas, it is your task to man the small den-den-mushi earpiece assigned to Mihawk: managing his assignments, scribing the notes of importance. As the receiver drones on, you answer the call and are greeted to the familiar brogue of the Vice-Admiral you had not yet met face to face.

Themes: age gap, flirtation, “The Garpening”, Vice-Admiral!Garp x Assistant!Reader, mutual pining, faceless swooning, den-den-mushi calls, suggestive dialogue (not heavily NSFW but implied themes), f!reader, gendered terms used.

Notes: Garp do be looking mighty fine at the faceless end of the transponder ear piece… I blame @sordidmusings and @carrotsunshine for this. Came out a lot more flirty than intended, but then again - it's Garp.

The vocal hum of the small shell of the den-den mushi had your head lulling on your shoulders. A sigh depleting from your chest alongside an eye roll had you place the firm shell against the shell of your ear, hooking over the curvature and securing it against your lobe.

Being Lord Dracule Mihawk’s personal assistant was no easy feat; securing such a luxury to work for a man of high reputation challenged you in all the ways that mattered. His intimidating aura, alongside his world renown title as “World’s Greatest Swordsman,” had challengers from all four points of the seas calling his receiver at all hours of the day.

Setting down your morning coffee against your work station, you huffed out an exasperated breath, and pressed down against the shell of the receiver to begin a verbal dialogue with the recipient at the other end.

"Lord Dracule Mihawk residence, state your name and purpose," you drawled monotonously with a practiced disdain, fishing out your notepad and pen to begin to notarize any key points to the call. A small pause occurred before the familiar rumble of a partially hushed tone drew a shudder through your spine.

"...Oh, Bonnie Lass. I wassnae prepared to hear such a sweet melody from a pretty lady so early in the morn,” the voice hushed against your earpiece, your heart swelling at each syllable he graced you with. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, a smile threatening to break over your lips.

"Good morning to you too, Vice Admiral,” you purred professionally into the earpiece, “Shall I fetch Lord Mihawk for you?" The soft crackle of distortion hid the verbal growl in refutation from him.

Of all of the calls you had been privy to receive, the ones you looked forward to the most belonged to the rumbly drawl of the marine vice-admiral. The initial meeting of his gruff aggression to your playful vocal tone immediately held him smitten against his desk, leaning his chin on the heel of his palm and a dopey smile gracing over his features.

He had not felt this way for an individual in some time, never allowing himself to give in to entertaining the thought of joining himself so affectionately with a woman, for anything more than a brief fling. As his gruffness met the honey-sweetness of your voice, all words of caution were flung to the wind as he drank in each word you purred at him.

You were much the same in a similar sense. Your duties performing as Mihawk’s assistant held every waking moment of your attention, constantly chasing the broody warlord around with itineraries, notes and alerts, and jobs he’d received at the call of the marine headquarters.

"Allow me the luxury of hearing your voice a little longer, Lass,” his voice held a small promise of your regular flirtation engaging with one another, hitching at the ‘L’ in ‘Lass’, “You know what your pretty melody does to a man like me."

Rotating your head on your neck, you stifled the rising tension of your fluttered heartbeat. You could only admit to yourself what the brutish whispered tone of the Vice-Admiral roused in you, refusing to speak it to light with a verbal confirmation. A small smirk rose to your features, the hardened pelt of your heartbeat elevating in your chest.

"Vice-Admiral, you're making me blush,” your coy purr called to him, serenading him with your flirtatious tone. Although you could not see him, his rumbled cocky laugher held you hostage to his comments.

"That's not all I could make you do, Lass,” his voice rumbled against your earpiece, his drawl vibrating against your eardrum, causing your blush to rise and follicles to stand to attention to his every command.

Although you had never met face to face, you could tangibly feel his smile within the mouthpiece of the den-den-mushi. He had informed you prior that he was more than twice your age, not a factor you had pushing aside your flirtatious words and halting them completely. Although your curiosity held you bound to his words, you refused to look up imagery of him in fear of shattering the illusion you had crafted for yourselves.

Garp was sure he had pushed a boundary with that final statement, anxiety pulsing at his neck with an intense rapidity. Panicked, his eyes floated to his desk and catching his attention over the novel he had been reading over the past few nights.

"Did you read that chapter we were talking about yesterday?" he’d asked you suddenly with the craving the answer you held behind your smile. You looked to the leather bound book beside your notepad; it’s words sprawled over your desk beneath its open pages.

"I did, Vice-Admiral. It was beautiful,” you recounted the playful and romantic words written on their page, “I especially enjoyed the part where they met face to face for the first time-." Your playful and longing tone was met with a small, dry laugh from the vice-admiral.

"-I know what you're hinting at, Wee Bonnie,” his voice cut you from your thoughts, his brogue causing a subtle swoon within your chest, “Your boss won't let you come on his next task, so we're not going to meet for a while yet.”

Almost allowing a small whine to depart from your lips at such a confirmation, you instead hardened your resolve and played into his wild flirtations.

“Vice-Admiral-,” you began, halting by his next rumbled words alone.

“-Garp, lass,” his vocal reprimand called to you, “Call me Garp, wee Bonnie. We’ve spoken so much of late, you have no need for such titles anymore.” Your heart swelled, a warm flush rising to your cheeks at such an utterance from a powerful figure.

“Garp,” your voice called to him, his body curling into the receiver further for every drawn out syllable you poured onto him, “I will be ushered into whichever seas you call my lord to be. Should you desire to meet face to face-.”

“-I shall forever desire to meet such a beautiful woman. I crave hearing your laugh in person,” he halted the end to your declaration with a confirmation of his own. Your heart fluttered at the rising anxiety depicted at the mouthpiece end of your receiver. After a few moments pause, your smile had your words beaming through the transponder.

“Was there a particular reason you called the Dracule residence, Garp?” Your voice ticked at the end, hoping to stifle any personal favoritism from the vice-admiral at the other end of the call. No such stiflement occurred, the vice-admiral’s voice crackling through the static of the den-den-mushi to affirm you instead.

“Just wanted to hear your voice, Bonnie Lass,” he confessed, his breathy voice dancing within the same frequency of your heartbeat. Your giggle rose a swell within the vice-admiral, his longing for you physically depicted within his risen hue of a pink flush.

“You have heard me, Garp. Does this mean I will not hear from you until you call for my employer again?” You quipped, your smile dancing on your teeth with its humorous jest.

“If I had my way,” his rumble broke you from your taunting, hanging on his every syllable with glazed orbs and dancing heart elevation, “I’d have you on my lap and whispering your praises into my ear each time the sun rose and set each day.” You drew your dominant hand up, clasping over your lips to halt a girlish squeal from departing from your lips.Taking several moments to halt your rapid heartbeat and youthful anticipation, you drew the mouthpiece into your lips to allow every vocal utterance to flee from your lips.

“Vice-Admiral,” you gasped breathily, flicking your tongue out to dampen your lips as you hardened your resolve, “I do not think you could handle such an attentive partner fawning over you on your lap.” You heard his breath suck in through his mouth, halting as it hit his chest.

“Garp,” He corrected you in a breathy whisper, “Call me Garp.”

“Garp,” your voice purred as you continued your train of thought, sitting back against your office chair and kicking your right foot as it hooked over your left knee, “You would not know where to place your hands, should you ever find my company upon your lap.” Although the crackle of distortion drew against the earpiece of the den-den-mushi, it did very little to withdraw the growl from the other end of the call.

“I could think of several places I would place my hands, Bonnie Lass,” he uttered in a low rumble allowing great distance to fall between each syllable, “You’d be begging and crying for my attention to remain in a certain few key places.”

At that final confirmation, you allowed a girlish giggle to flee from your chest sooner than you could contain it. Each small, melodic twinkle of your laugh held Garp captive beneath the whisper of your breath.

“Are you flirting with me, Vice-Admiral?” Your playful voice called to him, his den-den-mushi staring at him with a vacant stare. He held onto your every word, huddling closer to the mouth-piece of the transponder.

“I will always flirt with you, me wee Bonnie,” he confessed, swiping his hand over his hair to rid him of his tingling nerves, “Why do you think I call on Lord Dracule Mihawk so much?” You allowed several moments to contemplate his question.

“Because his swordsmanship outnumbers you and the marines one thousand to one?” You offered him weakly, your resolve as half-hearted as your soul cried it to be.

“Because I desire to hear your voice,” he confessed. Your breath hitched within your throat, your heart hanging upon each word he uttered, “You are the reason I summon him each morning, and call on this line before I sign off for the day. Just to hear the small rise in your voice, Bonnie Lass,” he continued. You could almost tangibly feel the rake of his index finger against your jaw to usher you into himself. You could feel his presence, the cologne he adorned upon his neck, jaw and wrists through each utterance.

“Mihawk has certain skills we desire to abuse, yes. But, you,” He continued, the rasp turning breathy and slow in each drawl, “Oh, you. You are the reason I am at the end of my transponder in the wee hours of the morn, holding myself hostage to my desk at a small utterance of your voice.” His confession held you stationary against your desk, your breath refusing to dance in order to release any tone from your lips.

“You are why I call on Mihawk so much, lass,” He continued, “Your voice makes me feel young- makes me want to be a better man.” You hung on his words like a lifeline coaxing you to shore. You slunk down onto your desk, cradling your lips within your palm to stifle your breath.

“What I would do to such an innocent flower of Kuraigana,” his raspy rumble teetered off to verbalize his rising stutter, “I’d have you thrust against my desk, screaming my name like a prayer as I sink my teeth and lips against your sensitive flesh. The pleasure I could grant you with my lips alone would have you bound to my bedchambers with desire and longing-.”

“-Is that Garp?” The voice of Dracule Mihawk broke you away from your flush, shaking your head at each flirtatious thought pouring from his lips, “Another assignment so early?”

“My lord,” you bowed to him, your voice breaking the vice-admiral away from his utterances of flirtatious promise, “The Vice-Admiral was only calling to offer you praise in completing your prior assignment-.”

“-That’s not all I was praising, me wee Bonnie Lass-,” Garp's voice broke you away from your concentration in relaying your verbal commands to the lord of Kuraigana.

“Is there another assignment, or shall we halt the call?” Mihawk’s verbal warning ticked at the corner of his mouth as it rose into a knowing smirk. Your startled expression allerted all Mihawk needed to know of your call, the dance of his knowing smirk threatening to break through as he claimed the shell-end of the den-den-mushi receiver from your earpiece.

“Vice-Admiral,” Mihawk’s voice called over the mouthpiece, “The office hours are from the time the sun rises in the east blue, until its hues dance in the evening over the grand line.” Your voice hitched, the silence unbearable in the office alone with your employer. You caught the hitch of his breath, the swell in his pupils and the growl in his throat as he handed back the receiver into your hands.

“Make it quick,” He uttered, placing the shell once more within your ear, “We leave Kuraigana within the hour.” Mihawk walked away, the pointed tip of Yoru dancing at his ankles with each swell swing. You slowly drew the mouthpiece up to your lips, hanging on the silence depicted within the static.

“Vice-Admiral?” You called to him, your voice timid and direct. Your question was met with silence on the other end, no swell of a voice, nor sneer of a whisper depicted within the earpiece of the transponder. As you drew a reluctant hand up to end the call, the raspy voice you craved swelled within the earpiece.

“I’m still here, Bonnie Lass,” it called to you. You stifled the need to stifle the flames of joy within your chest at the swell of his voice, your heart beating with an unnatural rapidity.

“I am grateful, Vice-Admiral,” you confessed, your withheld breath leaving you as the flutter of Mihawk’s tailcoat disappeared from view. After several moments had departed in silence, Garp’s voice called once more to you.

“It seems we are to meet face-to-face afterall,” his chuckle did very little to stifle his anxiety within, “Mihawk has granted you passage to stay within the halls of my vessel while he rids the land of the plague of piracy.” Your heartbeat elevated, swooning at the mere thought of putting a face to the name of such a powerful man. Although you spoke daily, your anxiety played a heavy part in meeting such a decorated man within the marines.

Sucking in a heavy breath and hardening your resolve, you turned your attention back to the parchment you began to notetake upon.

“In what capacity will we be meeting, sir?” You asked him, your voice stifling your anxiety with succession. You heard Garp suck in an anxious breath of his own, halting his racing thoughts with free words than his jumbled thoughts would allow.

“I would have you wined and dined,” he confessed, his voice low and laden with grandiose splendor, “And while your boss concludes with the heavier business, I will look forward to spoiling you with the splendor my toils have offered me.” Your heart fluttered at the notion, before the imagery began to plague you of what ‘after’ may look like at the conclusion of your dalliance. Before you had the time to speak of such woes, your words were stolen from you at the utterances of the vice-admiral you had come to adore.

“It is now that I may offer my apologies to you, love,” He uttered into the mouthpiece, “I desired to not shatter the illusion we had created for each other. Believe me, Bonnie Lass. I had intended to leave you faceless in my dreams. But-,” his voice drew off into a small raspy hum, the growl of his voice perking up at the end of his last utterance, “-I had found a den-den-mushi graph of your likeness,” your anxiety began to thicken in it’s stupor, only halting at the further compliments of the man behind the call, “And I had found myself hypnotized beneath your beauty.”

Unsure of how to feel at this utterance, you allowed a small, apprehensive giggle to depart from your lips. Sensing your uneasiness, the den-den-mushi shell on your desk began to vibrate and drone on in its print of a piece of parchment paper.

“That is me in all my rapidly aging glory, lass. The last shot I had received from the militia,” Garp’s voice confessed. You eagerly reached for the parchment, flipping the page over to reveal his face to you.

He was handsome. His eyes relayed a kindness and ferocity you had not encountered in your experience prior. His silvered hair, his wispy accents atop his jaw. Everything held you captive and plagued by every thought you had sent his way in the near year you had spoken with him.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, your smile returned to your lips.

“I am very much looking forward to meeting you in person, vice-admiral,” you confessed breathily, staring into the eyes of the print within your fingertips, “Wined and dined? Is that all the simplicity you offer for me, Vice-Admiral?”

The rumbling chuckle held your attention, the peaks of your hair follicles lying at the back of your neck alerting you to danger did naught but encourage you.

“Bonnie lass,” his rumbled voice purred into the earpiece of the receiver causing a shudder to run through your from coccyx to crown, “I would wine and dine you to your heart's content; pleasing you with many a ministration with my hands, mouth and tongue until no thoughts occur within that pretty head of yours except how good I make you feel.”

Your soul screamed, your heart heavy with the burden of desire at each utterance of his fighting words. Sucking in a sharp breath, you cradled the earpiece into your mouth as you quietly uttered to him your desiring praises.

“After all this time, you think so little of me to sit there and take what I’m given?” You challenged him, your voice purring at each of your affirmations, “Vice-Admiral,” you drew your tone down. Shepherding the earpiece against your lips to quiet your tone further, “You may wine and dine me should you truly desire it,” you rotated your neck on your shoulders, ridding it from a click located within, “But only I would make you dance between the borders of ‘so good’ and ‘too much’ before I have your writhing between my legs in a dance of absolute bliss.”

Before Garp could offer a retort to your challenge, you continued your taunt in a low tone within the mouth piece.

“Your lips will tremble, your eyes will flutter in their daze,” you continued, "I’ll have you in every sense of the word before you’ll fall to your knees before me, offering me praise and adoration while begging for me to continue.” A rumbled shudder rolled over his spine and shoulders as he leaned into the call, focussing on your every word.

“A-And the fact that I’m a little older?” His voice called to you, begging for you to enable him of his lust for you, “You are not perplexed nor disheartened?”

“I am intrigued, sir,” you rephrased his unspoken question, drawing out your syllables with your tongue and teeth, “And I shall take what I am given with a smile on my face.”

Several unspoken moments fell between you, neither one to break away from the illusion that perplexed you. You sucked your lips between your teeth, gnawing at them while the vice-admiral contemplated your words. A shuddered inhale revealed he was ready to inform you of his thoughts.

“I am ready to receive my orders, my lady,” he sighed, his voice riddled with anticipation and desire. You allowed yourself a moment to collect your racing thoughts to form cohesion, offering him a sensual verbal command of your own.

“I look forward to giving them and more to you, Vice-Admiral,” your smirk was depicted through the lifeline Garp held onto. Hs white-knuckled grip on the mouthpiece of the transponder and the desk below his fingertips shuddering with each passing moment he had not held you within his arms. He shuddered in a heavy breath, furrowing his brows in concentration.

“Would you allow me the luxury of giving you a kiss?” his voice quirked up, his tone subtle and almost boyish in question. You allowed yourself a small giggle in response, leaning into the desk to grace him with an answer.

“All this talk of worship and orders, Vice-Admiral,” you laughed a huffed giggle, “It would be a shame if such lust fell to waste.” The rumbled voice of brutish confirmation held your ears lingering on every utterance of the words departing from his stubbled lips.

“Until we meet face to face, me wee Bonnie Lass,” The vice-Admiral’s voice sung to you.

“Until such a time, Vice-Admiral,” you uttered in confirmation, your vocal tone filled with youthful longing yourself.

Concluding the call with a mischievous grin, you drew your eyes up to the door of your office where Mihawk was leaning against its frame. Your smile never ceased, prompting Mihawk’s smirk to tick up his left hand corner.

“Vice-Admiral Garp?” he asked, his brow also elevating with his grin. You shrugged, nodding in confirmation and biting back the rise of your smile. Mihawk sighed and shook his head, turning from the door and walking down the hallway.

“We will find a way to exploit this, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder, “But for now, get packing. We leave in an hour.”

You jumped to your feet, ignoring the next vibration of the den-den-mushi call in favor of following the orders of your boss. Your eagerness had you bouncing with each step, causing Mihawk to let an exasperated breath to leave his body at your youthful giddiness.

A meeting with the Vice-Admiral, with threats and promises interwoven from his lips, had you buzzing and bobbing with each minute that ticked by. You hoped you both would live up to the hype you had created in the small pocket of the universe, no doubt in your mind that it would.

Tag list: I am sorry about "The Garpening." He's got a hold of me, and I'm taking you lot with me. @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @feral-artistry

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #garp #monkey d garp #garp x reader #monkey d garp x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader #op age gap fic

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morganski-19 · 3 months

Text

The One Where It All Started

This takes place about a year before the rest of the posts will be taking place. Just to set the stage before the real schnenanigans start.

“So I said that was a terrible idea, because there was barely any research done so it would be misleading to the readers, right,” Nancy continued her story about the piece she’s been working on at work.

“Yeah, that would make me pissed,” Robin added, following along.

Nancy nods in agreement as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Exactly. I would rather print nothing than something they made up. But of course, the boss doesn’t think so. I’m thinking of dropping the project, so my name isn’t attached to it, but then that just means I ‘didn’t have faith in the work’. No shit I don’t, it’s completely fake.”

“Fuck those guys,” Steve adds, partially listening as he’s grading his student’s assignments.

Jonathan and Argyle walk into the café, finding the group at their normal seats and joining them.

“My dudes,” Argyle bellows. “How’s it going?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Nancy groans.

Jonathan winces. “Those assholes at work again?”

“Yes,” Nancy exclaims. “I need to find another job but this is the best I could get after school.”

“Could be worse,” Robin adds.

“I know, I just hate working there.”

Steve stares at the paper in front of him with a confused expression. “What do you guys think of this one?”

He turns the paper around to reveal a hand turkey covered with red drops resembling blood. What would normally be the feathers are now plucked off and surrounding the turkey leaving the pink underneath. Or at least that’s what it looks like. It could just be pink feathers and a turkey standing on a pile of leaves. But that wouldn’t explain the X’s for eyes.

“Are you seriously grading hand turkeys right now?” Robin rolls her eyes. “And you think your job is hard.”

“Try to teach a bunch of first graders basic math after they’re all hyper from recess and then get back to me. And it’s not just hand turkeys. There’s also spelling tests somewhere in here.”

Jonathan takes the paper from Steve’s hand, showing it to Argyle better with a very concerned glare. “I think you might need to talk to this kid.”

“He drew a murdered turkey, dude. Kid’s got issues.”

Steve takes the picture back, assessing it more. “I mean, those could be leaves.”

Robin points to the picture. “And that’s not blood.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to the kid.” Steve turns it over and sees the name. “Wait, this is Bobby’s. His parents hunt wild turkeys. That’s normal.”

A man with long, brown curly hair approaches the group, wearing a leather jacket with a band tee and black jeans. “Sorry to interrupt but, Wheeler?” He turns toward Nancy, pointing softly at her.

“Oh my god, Eddie?” Nancy smiles standing up to give him a hug. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since high school.”

“Eh, it’s been better. But you, I saw the article you did last month. Best thing I ever read in the news.” Eddie sits down on the chair across from Nancy.

Steve is trying his hardest not to stare and keep grading his stack of papers, but it’s hard. Robin elbows him in the side and widens her eyes in a “Really?”. Steve shrugs in his defense, taking a sip of his mocha. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Aw, thank you. I worked hard on that. What are you up to now?”

“Kinda between jobs at the moment. I work as a freelance artist but I’m taking a break from that becoming a tattoo apprentice.”

“That is so cool, dude,” Argyle interrupts from across the table.

Nancy has a moment of realization. “Right. Eddie, these are my friends. Robin, Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle. Guys, this is my old friend from high school, Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you guys.”

The group replies with varied greetings, Steve and Eddie holding eye contact a bit longer than the rest of the group does. Resulting with another jab in Steve’s ribs from Robin. He yells at her with his eyes for her to stop.

“So, do you live in the city now?” Nancy goes back to addressing just Eddie.

He scratches at his chin with a pained faced. “Kinda. Moved here to live with my ex a few months ago. And then he sort of cheated on me, so I’m trying to find somewhere else, but money’s kind of tight right now.”

“Ugh, that sucks,” Nancy winces. “I’m sorry.”

“Is what it is.”

Nancy turns to Robin, whispering something in her ear. Robin shrugs and whispers something back.

“You know, if you wanted to, no pressure or anything,” Nancy starts. “But, my old roommate just moved out and I’m looking for a new one. It’s a nice place my grandma rents to me so it’s rent controlled. I know we haven’t talked much since high school, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“Have to think about it, and see the place. But that might be nice.”

“And you’d live across from me and Steve,” Robin adds, earning her an elbow to the ribs.

Eddie smiles flirtatiously. “Well that does sweeten the pot.” He notices the hand turkey still laying on the table. “What the fuck is wrong with that hand turkey?”

“I already said I would talk to the kid,” Steve groans.

“Why is this is this kid going on turkey hunting trips anyway,” Jonathan asks, concerned.

Steve shrugs. “How would I know, not my kid.”

Argyle reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a joint, handing it to Steve. “For your troubles.”

“This group is great,” Eddie laughs to himself, already agreeing to Nancy’s offer in his head.

General information about the fic here

Tag list (just tagged everyone who seemed interested, let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417

#stranger things #stranger thigns fanfic #freinds au #steddie #ronance #jargyle #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #spicy six apartment schenanigans #morgan's friends au

162 notes · View notes

okkotsuus · 11 months

Text

mi hermosa (sae i.) !

features: sae i.

contents: suggestive. sae is kinda ooc. reader is a model. hickies/neck kissing. sae feels you up kinda. gender-neautral reader. filming. sae is himself. vivid descriptions. insinuation at the end. 4.2k words.

notes: self-indulgent. my very very bad spanish. partial google translate bc i forgot most of my lessons. i just think not being able to understand what someone's saying but knowing what it means by how they say it is really hot. telenovelas are making me delulu. i luv sae.

heavily inspired by this edit from my queen koca ( @daiseukiis )

as you study your reflection in the glimmering surface of the bathroom mirror, you can't help but feel your own chest puff in pride. like a bird after hours of preening, even you were forced to acknowledge that you looked stunning at this moment.

maybe it was what felt like the endless hours you were forced to sit still while the makeup artists touched up every single pore and freckle on your face, or maybe it was just how they were able to bring out the untouchable features that were already there. either way, you felt as if you were on top of the world at this moment. you felt untouchable, unattainable.

the ringing of the bell signaling the end of the crew's lunch break drew you back into reality as you messed with the flyaway that had begun to escape what felt like a helmet of hairspray.

your shoes clicked against the tiled floor as you hurried on set. when you made it there, you saw the crew scrambling around as they finished the last props and lighting adjustments. they called every cue in a practice run and tested cgi with extras before taking the first shot.

you smoothed the clothes that hugged just right over your body. the material under your fingers felt expensive, smooth and soft. they were luxury for the brand that you were shooting and commercials for. along with other high dollar items, all to impose the idea of regality.

it was a perfume and cologne commercial. so it was guaranteed to be eccentric.

truth be told, you didn't even know what the shoot had in mind. you weren't part of the original cast, as you were still an up-and-coming model. but you were the only model who would agree to shoot on such a short notice.

your co-star, whom you had yet to even see, apparently had some sort of falling out with the person who was supposed to be in your spot. the crew had quietly pulled you to the side and told you that the moment he laid eyes on them, he immediately demanded for someone else, or he would quit. it made you so very anxious for him to see you, much less to co-star with him.

the thrumming of your heart pounded in your ears as your eyes flit to every corner of the room, trying to guess who you were going to be on screen with. if it went well, you would be able to get some connections out of this, right?

maybe a bit too optimistic for a guy who just looked at a model much more famous than you and threw a hissy-fit...

you saw the director approaching and quickly you attempt to compose yourself, not wanting your nervous sweat to make the mua's hard work run. you put on a wobbly smile as he greets you.

"y/n, great to see you, sorry again for the short notice! so, as you were told, today we are shooting a luxury l'eau de parfum commercial." you nod along, watching as he tells a personal assistant to go get a 'mr. itoshi.' you have no clue who that is, but he seems important given the way the pa broke into a cold perspiration at his name. maybe it was your tyrant of a co-star?

the director continues his rundown of the shoot, going over the details that normally would have been told before you would have signed the contract. "so, today you will be in very close proximity with your co-star. intimate touching, scantily clothed, innuendos, is that okay?"

you hesitate for a moment, since you were new: you had never done anything like this before. truth be told, you were feeling a little shy. until you saw him.

those half-lidded uncaring eyes of turquoise that had your heart racing from more than just the anxiety of it all. his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his tight-fitting, black, suit pants. his white button-up is tucked in and only half buttoned, leaving a tempting portion of his toned chest teasingly exposed. a silver chain drums against his collarbones with every step he takes, darkened-blush hair ruffling with movement. god, he is stunning. just the sight of him had you nodding absent-mindedly to everything the director was saying. you didn't care about your doubts, as long as you were doing the intimate touching and scantily clothed-ness with him (for the commercial of course, nothing else...). you don't care how embarrassing it is.

he came to a stop an arms-length away from you, staring down at you under his nose. you can’t help but anxiously fidget; the confidence from earlier disappearing as you suddenly felt like the side character who’s screen time just ended, your presence completely being devoured by the main character that just entered the room under his scrutinizing gaze.

he huffs, clearing his throat before turning away from you. you wince, ready to be dismissed and humiliated, yet it never came.

"acceptable."

with that, he was gone. you were left gawking. all that pride you had lost was restored in an instant. he didn't instantly hate you? it was somehow the biggest ego boost you had been given in a long time.

the crew member who you had somehow become friends with starts squealing and bouncing up and down while you raise a shaky hand to feel the heat burning at your cheeks. is this real?

the final run of all the technical components finished and you went to join mr. itoshi on the set. unlike him, you weren’t aware of what was going on each scene, hence why the producer had to stage things more carefully. they weren't annoyed at all, instead thankful that she could find someone so last minute, even if it meant the shoot taking longer. it just wasn't worth the pay cut it would have taken to recast.

as the lights dim slightly, you turn your attention to the producer: sitting in her chair with the script.

"first of all, big thanks to y/n for making it on such short notice—” scattered claps from around the room all in your favor, “without them, we could never shoot this commercial! okay so, the first scene is going to be sae and y/n just sort of holding each other. it's intimate and coy, going to help us lead up to the bigger things going on later in the shoot. break a leg everyone!"

you felt your cheeks lightly warm at the description of the scene, clearing your throat before turning to sae, who was adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and his open collar. you copy his professionalism and smooth out the wrinkles on your own luxury clothing items.

he takes a step closer to you and plants one hand on your hip, his fingers slightly digging into the plush of your skin as his other arm winds around your back loosely. sae’s breath fans over your face as he gently huffs through his nose. lashes fluttering as those aquamarine hues zero in on you, with his plush, pink lips parting slightly.

all of it is head-spinning, mind-boggling, he is so captivating. but you force yourself to remember this is a job. so you rest one of your hands over his muscular bicep, the other fisting the collar of his half undone shirt. your head tilts to the side to allow yourself to inch closer to him. the world goes silent and the two of you just stare at each other.

it was a moment frozen in time, both of your lashes flutter as you maintain that heavy stare. breath fanning in the small yet far too large gap between the two of you. your back is subtly arching as you press yourself further into him.

"cut!"

yes, all for the shoot, of course...nothing else, no other reason.

sae steps back from you, your arms stay up for a moment before falling limply to your side. you clear your throat and turn to the producer, desperately hoping that it didn't need another take, you weren't sure if your heart could take it.

"amazing job, that was a flawless take! y/n, you should really consider becoming an actor, the chemistry you created with sae was palpable. great work, take five while we get ready for the next scene, you two!"

you breathlessly thank her and scramble offstage, returning to hair and makeup to see if anything needed to be retouched. while the artist was touching up your lips and powdering your nose, you couldn't get sae's touch out of your mind. it lingered on your skin like a brand, hot and heavy.

your next costume was to change into a button-up just like the one sae was wearing, it was left even more unbuttoned. you were given a pair of white safety shorts to wear under it, a very obvious illusionary tactic of being pantless. you couldn't help but feel shy.

it was call time so you returned to the set, eyes locking on sae who abandoned the white shirt he was in and instead just wearing those fitted, black pants. he still had the necklace on; on that tempting delicacy of a body he has. you force yourself to focus on that. lest your vision slip to his sculpted torso, again.

when your eyes meet his after he catches you desperately trying not to stare, he had this cocky light to him. this time he isn’t looking down at you, more like looking through his lashes. it’s entrancing. he makes you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. he makes your stomach twist and heart race.

the producer came in and sat down, delivering the brief of the scene. "okay, so this scene is pretty tame as well, just the costume change makes it more risque. so basically sae is standing in the bathroom and y/n comes up behind him as rests their chin on his shoulder. with how things are going, it should likely be done in one take. break a leg!"

sae stood at the counter, hands on the counter and he leaned down and leered into the mirror at his own reflection. his eyes lidded as he licked his lips and tugged on his bottom one with his teeth.

you took a deep breath and approached him when the clapperboard slammed shut. your steps are soft as you pad against the faux tile, rising to your tippy-toes to hook your chin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. your arms wrap around him and rested atop his hands on the counter. smelling something almost intoxicating you sniffed at his neck, it was a cologne: hints of musk and teak-wood. it was the kind of scent that had your eyes rolling back into your head, which you were able to refrain from, luckily.

your touch lingered as they announced the end of the scene, dragging your fingers lightly against his skin. his eyes caught you as he raised a questioning brow, leaning back against the bathroom counter. your eyes traced every rise and fall of his abs before you turned and left in a flustered huff, not noticing the quirk of his lips in the slightest smirk.

as you snuck away, regretting it immediately, he caught you. slightly off to the side and away from peering eyes, sae itoshi looms over you with that intense stare you figured was just for the cameras. his lips rested against the shell of your ear as he breathed out a whisper. "ten cuidado, cosita hermosa...*"

you can’t help the shiver that runs up your spine as a whine is pulled out from your chest. you desperately hope he hasn’t heard it, but he very clearly did when that smug look came in view. his hands gripped your hips as he said one last thing before departing. "no empieces cosas que no puedas terminar.**" again, he was gone.

you felt your back meet the wall behind you as you covered your mouth, trying to stabilize your racing heart. you have not a single clue what he said, but you just couldn't help but feel the effects of its trance regardless.

it took a long time for you to drag yourself back to hair and makeup, they had to powder your entire face pretty much. your now ruffled hair took a little fixing due to that…moment. luckily, you didn't need a costume change. all costumes did was spray something, likely the perfume you're advertising, onto the insides of your wrists and neck.

you spaced out during the producers instructions, leaning against the counter-top. your attention being forced back onto the shoot when all of the sudden sae is caging you against the counter. one hand pinned yours atop the porcelain where it had rested, the other gripping your wrist and brought it to his face, where he pressed a searing kiss to it.

he sniffed at it and a cheshire grin split his face, "y'know this one's my favorite baby. makes me want you..." he groans the ending, leaning closer and pressing his lips to your neck. you couldn't remember if this was a scripted line or not, but you couldn't bring yourself to care; you'd savor it the same either way.

you lean your head back and rest your unrestrained hand on the back of his head, fingers threading in light mahogany tresses. he kisses up the column of your neck, nose digging against the exact places where the stylists had sprayed the perfume. you can’t help the whimper that slips from your lips at the subtle nips he makes at your skin. they're light enough not to turn red and leave marks that makeup would have to cover, but you can feel them. you can feel every drag of his tongue and every mold of his lips against your searing skin.

his head lifted from his torturous kisses as his eyes bore into yours, you feel so small under his gaze, like you were pressed under his thumb. he leans in and your eyes squeeze shut as his lips ghost over yours. your grip on his hair tightens as your back arched to press your chest against his.

everything just felt so real.

maybe that's why the producer yelled another enthusiastic "cut!" it you jumping and startled. your eyes met sae's taunting gaze as he pulls away, leaving you limp and boneless against the counter as you reeled from all that.

"wonderful work guys, we're making up for all the time we had lost with sae's... fit—” to which he rolled his eyes, remembering that event and sae’s glaring hues, “keep it up! gosh this is wonderful acting, i really need this kind of stuff from my cast on the film we're shooting tomorrow... next one is the last scene we'll need you two together on set for."

your heart aches a little at that, but at the same time it has you puffing a sigh of relief. you couldn't handle this any longer, he was just so... so? intense, alluring, intoxicating? nothing seemed right, these words were all too mild to encompass what sae itoshi was.

your hands reached up to cup your cheeks, feeling their burning intensity on your palms. you shook your head and mentally give yourself a pep talk before going over to get your final touch-ups and clothing adjustments.

your shirt was pulled down to expose your shoulders, the open buttons drawled down to just above your stomach. hair and make-up left you alone, saying that it would be better for them to be slightly messed up anyways. that made you slightly realize what this scene was going to be showing.

you can’t help but feel hot under the collar, or well; lack of a collar, now. you couldn't look sae in the eyes when you saw the set: a bed with slightly ruffled white sheets. what you were able to notice was that he had lost the belt on his pants, which were now unbuttoned and unzipped. they sag down lower on his hips, revealing the line of muscles that ended when the branded band of his boxers peeked out just below a slight trail of hair on his lower stomach.

you gulp, eyes finding every single thing you could fixate on except sae. the changing lights, the rush yet control of the crew as they all got ready for the camera to roll, the producer talking. oh wait the producer is talking.

"—or this scene, we're going to have both of you on the bed. sae will be on top of y/n, face in their neck. y/n will have their legs slightly around him, and i trust you to know where your hands need to go. oh, and you're going to be looking into a camera above you. you both have been doing so well, i've never had a shoot with two actors who have never met, much less ones who have gone this well. let's finish it up people!"

you sort of just stood there, stunned. you’re pulled over to the bed by sae, who has that slight wolfish grin playing on his lips. he puts his hands on your shoulders, leaning into be closer to your face. to the outside eye, it looked like he was giving a co-star a pep talk, how sweet.

but you knew different, you saw the grin and narrowing of his turquoise eyes, the way his fingers dig into your skin. you knew this was anything but a friendly chat. "wouldn't it be such a shame if they all found out that you weren't acting, that you were really just this desperate for me, hermosa?***" his breath was hot and his voice rasped, it was so addicting, you couldn't help the shudder that wracked up your spine as you dumbly nodded.

sae looks you over, head to toe, one last time before pulling away as his expression returns to neutral. you let out a shaky sigh and sat back on the bed, scooting to be further in the center. you sit there for a moment before laying down.

you can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach that swirls as sae slowly stalks towards you; he was the predator locking on to his prey. there was a hunger in his eyes that was just too intense.

languidly, he crawls along the bed to you. he stops, hovering over you and looking at you with that same unruly need. he leans ever so closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your lips.

his eyes study you, taking in every single reaction you make. you feel his analytical gaze run over every curve and dip of your body, soaking you in and engraving it into his mind. his hands plant themselves on your hips, effectively pinning them to the mattress as he puts some of his weight on them. he slots one of his knees between your own, which you had so pathetically clamped shut.

you lift the leg that wasn't between his up to loosely rest over his lower back, hooking and keeping him there. you brought one of your hands to splay over the wide span of his back, between his shoulder blades. the other was placed at the nape of his neck, fisting and grabbing at the strands of hair that fell a little longer than the rest. his head was pulled down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breath puffing over spots that had you shuddering in place.

"ayyy... mi hermosa es una gran 'actriz', ¿no?****" his words were hot against the side of your neck, feathering over your skin. you couldn't help the twisting and curling of your stomach at his words, which you didn't understand a lick of. it was just the way he rasped and twined every syllable that had you quivering under his voice, under his touch, under him.

you heard the snap of the clapperboard, but it was all muted. everything sounded faint. your senses were too focused on the calculated squeezes that sae gave on the width of your hips, roiling and kneading flesh under deft, lithe fingers. you too were focusing on the open-mouthed kisses he was trailing along the junction of your neck and shoulder, the column of your throat, your jawline. every drag of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it had you shaking like a leaf in the wind.

the expression you sent to the camera hanging above you was nowhere near acting. it was the kind of raw desire that actors wished they could emanate. you tug at his hair, trying to pull him a little further back; to spare yourself from this torment. he only lets a rumble escape his chest, nipping along your heated skin, which had become slightly sheened from an ever-so-thin layer of sweat.

the way your back arches off the plush mattress, leg that wasn't wound around him kicking pitifully at the sheets, it was downright sinful. it made you feel pathetic, falling so pliably into the hands of a man you haven't even known for three hours. so desperately begging him for more with unspoken mannerisms and looks. it was like public humiliation; the way he had you under his control to the very point of your toes curling against the pure white sheets that crumpled around you.

you stare at yourself in the reflective lens of the camera that stares down at you, forever capturing this moment; before it is broadcasted to millions, if not billions of people. it caught every facet, every single little tick until you had exploded. it caught your widened eyes, which screw themselves shut. it caught your hands gripping and pulling at locks of blush hair. it caught your agape mouth, lips glossy with your own spit; and it caught you sinking your teeth into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to silence yourself. it caught every ministration sae subjected you to, and every little receptive reaction you gave him in return.

that red blinking light in it died, but you couldn't bring yourself to tap out. drunk on the feeling you pulled him closer, stretching to hook your chin over his shoulder: burying yourself in his scent, in him.

"...ut! guys, that's cut!" gods, it was so hard to snap yourself back to reality. your eyes flicker over to the producer, who was staring so closely at the two of you. in a hushed whisper you shook sae, telling him to get off of you. to which he answered, "don't care, let 'em watch."

you pushed him up with your palms butting against the front of his shoulders, ignoring the pointed glare he gives you. "well i do, so off." with that, you slipped away from him. you sat against the front of the stage, waiting for feedback. the air of the fans made the spit on your neck from sae's searing kisses feel cold, sending a shiver racking up your spine.

the man stands behind you, shadow looming over and consuming your own. your shoulders rounded as you huddled in on yourself from his all-consuming presence, trying to hide the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"great work, that'll be all we need you two together for, and all we'll need y/n for. thank you for the great work!" the crew clapped and you felt a smile stretch your cheeks. even if it wasn't all acting, you couldn't help the pride that swelled in your chest at their praise.

you gather up your things, not seeing sae again. bidding farewell to everyone: the producer, the director, and every crew member who worked specifically with you, not hearing a word from sae. as you walk out of the door, you saw a familiar figure leaning against the metal-sheeted wall, sae.

turquoise eyes glanced over at you, not nearly as cold as they were the first time they had. if anything, the hues that cast an ever so dark spell on you and your beating heart. he raises himself from the wall, walking towards your figure. hands in the pockets of a pair of grey sweatpants, a black compression shirt stretching over his broad chest. fuck, what was he doing to you?

his hand tucks a strand of hair away from your face, fingers sliding from where he had left it behind your ear along your jaw. he holds your chin between his fingertips, gentle but steadily raising your head to look up to his eyes. his other hand starts to creep under the hem of your shirt, drawing circles so faint they give you goosebumps along the soft flesh of your tummy.

"what'd ya say we pick up where we left off back at my place, mi hermosa?*****"

* = "be careful, pretty thing..."

** = "don't start things you can't finish."

*** = "...beautiful?"

**** = "ayyy... my beautiful is a great 'actor', no?"

***** = "... my love"

okkotsuus 23

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #sae #sae x reader #sae x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #bllk sae #blue lock sae #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you

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beyondthesefourwalls · 9 months

Text

This Love Came Back to Me (8)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Eight Word Count: 4K

Part Seven :: Series Masterlist

-----

“Are you kidding me?!”

Anna’s squeal was so loud it drew the attention of the nearby tables and you laughed as you shushed her. Simone was just as bad, reaching over to grab your arm and shake you as much as she could while you were both seated.

“You bitch!” she accused, and you laughed harder at how absolutely scandalized everyone looked.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I just…forgot to mention it.”

You winced before you were even done speaking, knowing how they’d react to the excuse. They didn’t let you down as another of your friends threw a cloth napkin across the table.

“You start seeing the hot pilot again, and you forget to mention it?!”

“One who it was dumb to break up with anyway, for the record,” Anna added on, just for good measure. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help but partially agree with her, too.

“It’s only been a month!” you exclaimed, though you knew it was a useless defense. “And technically, he’s an aviator.”

“He flies something that goes in the air. He’s a pilot.”

You didn’t bother to hide your grin as you took another sip of your peach mimosa.Your friends had immediately turned into a firing squad launching questions at you when you casually mentioned you had been running late because Bradley had been trying to convince you to let him drop you off instead of you driving yourself. He had brought it up with a kiss to the top of the head and his arms wrapped around you from behind when you were getting ready. He was going to the driving range with some of the guys, and had insisted that if it went how it usually did, he’d be finding excuses to leave after an hour or two anyway.

“They’re too competitive, and they’re cheats, and my wallet can only take so much, okay? What better excuse is there than having to go pick up my girlfriend?”

You had turned down his offer with a playful roll of your eyes and a comment about how maybe he shouldn’t make bets when he knows he’s not all that great of a golfer. He had gasped in mock outrage and tickled your sides, which had led to you kissing him in apology through your laughter, and before you knew it, he was lifting you onto the bathroom counter and had made you both a little late leaving your house. You bit your lip at the memory, your body tingling for another reason besides the champagne.

“So, do you think it’s serious this time? Like…in it for the long haul?”

You thought about how the last month of your life had arguably been one of the worst of your life because of work and those that came with it but how despite all that, when you thought of the passage of time, the first thing you thought of was how happy it was because you had Bradley back in your life. You were able to, for the most part at least, forget all of the bad when he was there. You thought of how glorious it was, falling asleep and waking up with him, and all of the little things he did that made it so obvious how he cared for you. He was simultaneously able to light you on fire in the best of ways and offer you peace to any situation, all at the same time. He was so beautiful, so kind, and he made you feel like no one else ever had. He never let you feel like a burden, and instead made you so confident that he felt all these things, too.

Those words you hadn’t said flashed in your head again but you swallowed them down with another sip of champagne.

“Yeah,” you grinned into the rim of your glass, unsure if it was the champagne or your thoughts that were making you feel warm and giddy inside. “I think so. I hope so.”

There was cooing and awwing that broke out around the table but you didn’t even care, too content and happy to do anything but laugh.

It was over two hours later that you were hugging them all goodbye on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant, stomach full from brunch and your sides aching from how much you had laughed in such a short amount of time. It was so nice to just sit and talk and laugh with them, catching up on life and gossiping about relationships and things going on in the world. You were so glad that Bradley had convinced you not to cancel. You didn’t realize how much you had missed your friends until you were around all of them again.

Anna hung back when everyone had dispersed, handing you a business card out of her purse. You raised your eyebrow in question.

“It’s a friend of mine who works in your field,” she told you with a smile. “I know you’ve been on the market for a while. He’s a manager, and he’s going to have a spot opening up on his team soon. I mentioned your background to him, and he said to have you reach out if you think you might be interested. Not a guarantee, obviously, but I don’t think it’d hurt either. I think you guys would vibe really well together.”

You read the details on the card and clutched it a little bit tighter. It was a company you had briefly looked at during your job search, but they hadn’t had any openings at the time. Excited anticipation rose in you and after carefully putting it in your purse, you threw your arms around your friend. She laughed off your thank you as she squeezed you a little bit tighter.

“I hope it works out. But at the very least, even if it doesn’t, I can say that I’m at least responsible for bringing you and Bradley back together, since you were supposed to meet me at the bar that night. So I’m not going to feel bad anymore for ditching you at the last minute.”

You threw your head back with a laugh. “Fair enough. Thanks for being a flake.”

She shoved you, rolling her eyes and scowling at you playfully. “You’re so welcome,” she said sarcastically. She winked as she started walking away. “Have a good rest of the weekend with your aviator,” she called as she opened her car door. “We’ll have to get our Navy men together for a double date soon!”

And then it was just you, standing there on the sidewalk on a sunny San Diego afternoon, contemplating what to do. You grabbed your phone out of your jacket pocket when you felt it buzz. Like you always did, you smiled when Bradley’s name popped up. He was checking in to see if brunch was still going. His friends were going another round at the driving range, and he wanted to see where you were to decide if he was going to participate. It made you giddy how if you were home, he wanted to be there too.

You thought over your options for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t been planning on doing anything after you separated from your friends. But you were in a great mood, feeling better than you had in a while in regards to being out on your own. The restaurant you ate at was in one of the shopping districts you liked and it was a beautiful day. Since you were already here, you decided you were going to walk around for a little while. Setting off in the direction of the coffee shop a few stores down, you responded to your boyfriend's text, telling him to enjoy the next round.

___

A bag from the jewelry store next door hung on your wrist. You had popped in in hopes of finding a similar necklace to the one you had lost and were pleased that they had the exact duplicate in stock. Now, you were sipping on a latte as you browsed the shelves in the bookstore. You had already mindlessly looked through a few genres and, without finding anything new that caught your eyes, decided that you would look for the next book in a romance series you had started a while ago.

You were humming along to the song playing over the speakers as you walked down the aisles of paperbacks and hardcovers, your finger tracing the spines as you went. “Ah-ha!” you muttered to yourself, finally finding what you were looking for on one of the shelves in the corner of the store. You flipped the book over to read the synopsis on the back and were so engrossed in the synopsis that when you heard your name from right behind you, you startled so hard that the novel flew out of your hand and your hot coffee sloshed out of the lid and onto your skin.

You whipped around and your eyes instantly widened in alarm. All at once you felt anxiety spread through your body like wildfire, your heart racing dangerously.

“Paul,” you gasped.

He was there, standing so close to you that you had felt his breath on your neck when he spoke your name. You nearly tripped over your own feet when you quickly took a step back. He was smiling broadly at you in the same way he always did.

“I was hoping I’d find you!” he exclaimed, “I saw you earlier at the restaurant, but I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your friends.”

Your mind whirled at his comment. He had been there? He had seen you?

“You looked like you were having so much fun,” he continued like what he was saying was completely normal. Your stomach dropped. He hadn’t just been there. He had been watching you.

“I-” you started, shaking your head. You didn’t know what to say. Your mouth felt so dry all of a sudden.

“You look pretty today.”

Bradley had told you more than once how beautiful you looked before you left the house in your sage green sundress and denim jacket, white tennis shoes on your feet. And you had felt it, too. But in an instant, you were uncomfortable in your own skin. You felt dirty at his praise and the way he was looking you up and down.

Paul looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response. But you had nothing to say. Your mind was moving so quickly that it was hard to remember how to form sentences. You stared at him with wide eyes. A beat passed before he sighed, his smile dipping. His eyebrows knitted a little tighter together as he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to talk at work the last few weeks. I was told I should stay away from you for right now.”

You processed the words slowly, because they didn’t make any sense. He genuinely sounded apologetic, and was looking at you with something that looked like sympathy. But not for anything he had done. But because you hadn’t been able to talk?

“You’re….sorry?”

“Yes,” he nodded. When he nodded in emphasis, his glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them up as he continued. “I forgive you, by the way.”

“Forgive me?” you stuttered out, sounding incredulous.

“For turning me in,” he explained. The look on his face darkened as he clenched his jaw. “I’m sure it was your boyfriend who told you to do it.” He practically spat the word out, but then he quickly schooled his features, resuming the smile from before. “Anyway. I’m sure it will all be resolved soon. They’ll see that nothing is wrong and it was just an overreaction on your part.”

You didn’t understand anything that was happening right now. You couldn’t. You stared at Paul in disbelief, unable to comprehend how he honestly believed the words coming out of his mouth. Every one felt like little pellets being thrown at you, each one stinging more than the last. Your fight or flight instinct was finally coming online and you swallowed thickly, trying to figure out what to do.

“I - I need to go.”

You startled again when you shuffled to the side, because Paul was quick to mimic the movement, staying in front of you and blocking your way.

“Do you need a ride home?”

You nearly choked at the question. “Do I ne- no,” you said vehemently, shaking your head. “No.”

“I saw you drinking. I don’t mind taking you home if you drank too much,” he said, taking another step toward you. You stepped back, your shoulder blades digging into the books behind you and leaving you with nowhere else to go. Paul moved closer, so close you could see the smudges on his glasses and smell the cheap scent of his cologne. It reminded you of a high school locker room, and something flickered in the back of your mind. You had made that comparison before, a few weeks ago at the farmer’s market with Bradley. You had felt like someone was watching you and had smelt this same smell then, and your anxiety spiked when you realized what that meant.

God, he had been there.

“You don’t live too far from here. It wouldn’t be an issue.”

You had averted your gaze to the floor, purposefully avoiding eye contact. But your head snapped up so fast that you felt a twinge in your neck. Your already fast beating heart seemed to double down, your pulse thundering so hard beneath your skin that you could practically hear it. Bile rose in your throat as panic started to claw at you.

“How do you know that?” you asked, pressing yourself further into the shelf behind you. “How do you - do you know where I live? Do you know my address?”

He cocked his head to the side, looking at you with genuine confusion and curiosity, like it was you who was spouting off nonsense. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You gave it to me.”

“I never told you that,” you spat. Your voice came out higher pitched, shaky and incredulous. You were so certain you had never done such a thing.

“You shared your location with me, remember? At work that day? You wanted me to know.”

He said the words slowly, like he was explaining something difficult to a child. He was looking at you like he was concerned for you for not remembering. Like you were dumb. You had never felt so small in your life in the worst of ways. Your mind searched through every encounter you ever had with him, trying desperately to figure out what he was talking about.

And then you remembered. It was the month he had started, and your team was doing a happy hour after work. He was new to the area and wasn’t familiar with where the bar was. He had asked to ride with you, but you had been uncomfortable with the idea, so you had shared your location with him instead to help him get there on his own. But it had been a temporary share, just for an hour. That was it, you were sure of it. There was no way…

You scrambled for your phone. Your hands were starting to shake as you went into your contacts. Dread settled heavy in your stomach when you clicked on him.

Oh, god.

You had blocked his number months ago after the first time you had reported him to HR, when he had started texting and calling you all the time. Tears welled in your eyes when you saw that, despite that, you were still actively sharing your location with him. You hadn’t hit the hour setting that day. You had hit indefinitely. He had had access to it all this time.

It had been months. He had known where you were for months. All those times he had shown up where you were. The grocery store. The gym. Restaurants. The Hard Deck the last two Fridays in a row. He had figured out where you lived by monitoring where you were.

And you had done it. It had been an accident, but you had done it. And he interpreted it as you wanting him to know. As…as wanting him.

And it was because of you. It was your own doing.

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

You watched in what felt like slow motion as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of jewelry. It was simple, a single small charm with your initial on it dangling from a thin gold chain. It was the same one you had worn for you don’t even know how long. The same one that had gone missing two weeks ago, that you had just bought a replacement for less than an hour ago. It’s the same necklace that you were so confident had been on the jewelry plate on your dresser, where you always put it when you take it off, but that you couldn’t find anywhere.

“I found this by your desk. I know you wear it all the time, so I figured you missed it and would want it back. I kept it safe for you.”

He held it out to you with a large grin. He looked proud of himself, smug. You knew that your face was horrified in return.

Your desk, he said.

But it was on a Monday morning before you left for work that you couldn’t find it. You had it on in the picture you and Bradley had taken together the day before, when you wouldn’t have been anywhere near the office. He couldn’t have found it near your desk.

He had your necklace. He knew where you lived.

You felt like you were going to throw up. You could taste it in your throat, feel it all through your body.

Your eyes flickered down to your phone and then back up at him, before repeating the pattern one more time. You stared at each other for a beat before you swallowed and tapped the screen. You were looking him in the eye when you hit “stop sharing.” His eyes widened as he realized what it was you had just done, and the friendly mask he had carefully maintained throughout the entire exchange disappeared in an instant.

“Why would you do that?”

Paul’s blue eyes were as dark as the ocean and as cold as it, too, and he was reaching for you. His clammy hand clamped around your wrist and squeezed tightly, and he was trying to yank you against him. Panic gripped you. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear it. There was a ringing in your ears and it was like the aisles of books were closing in on you.

You had to get out of here, away from him. You had to, and you were acting on pure instinct when you finally moved. You popped the lid off of your cup and threw the still hot coffee at him. Paul shouted in surprise as the liquid hit his face and covered his glasses. He was so close that some of it splashed back on you. When he stumbled back, he let go of your wrist as instinct took over to wipe at his face.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” you hissed. And then in the same moment, you ran.

Paul called out as you turned the corner and you pushed yourself faster. You didn’t even pause when you burst out of the door of the bookstore. You narrowly avoided running into several people as you darted through the shopping district in the direction of where you parked your car. The tears started as you ran. You didn’t even see the dip in the sidewalk until you were hitting the ground. You let out a sharp cry of surprise, but even then, you didn’t stop, struggling quickly back to your feet.

You could see your car now. You tugged your keys from your bag, nearly dropping them in your haste. You scrambled to hit the unlock button and slid into the driver’s side.

Tears blurred your vision as you pulled out of the parking lot and after a minute of driving, the first sob worked its way out of your throat, followed quickly by a second.

Paul knew where you lived. He had tracked your movements. This was your fault, your mistake having led you here.He had been following you for months, and it had all been because of your own carelessness. Your chest felt so tight - you could barely breathe.

You made a sharp turn onto a different street at the last second, and then another after that. You were nearly hyperventilating by the time you finally stopped in another busy parking lot.

Your hands were shaking so hard when you grabbed your phone from where you had thrown it in the passenger seat. You had to enter your passcode three different times because the trembling was so bad before it finally unlocked. Paul’s contact profile was still pulled up; you choked on another sob as you closed out of it and went to another. Once the sound of ringing echoed through your bluetooth you lost the grip you had on your phone. It fell to your lap and you clenched the steering wheel instead, your palms stinging, trying to remember how to take a deep breath.

“Hey, baby. You all done?”

Bradley’s voice surrounded you as it echoed from your speakers. In any other situation, you would have been able to hear the smile in his voice and would be delighted in knowing you were the one that put it there. But as you choked out his name, all you could think about was Paul. He had been watching you. He knew where you were all the time and it was all your fault. You let out another sob.

The shift in Bradley’s tone was immediate. “Bug? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You felt like you were drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into your panic. Bradley called your name and you didn’t think it was the first time. You tried to get enough air into your lungs to force words out. “I- Bradley,” you gasped.

“I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong. Please, baby. Please.” He was begging you, he was so worried, and another wave of guilt washed over you. “Just take a breath. In and out, sweetheart. Come on.”

You tried so hard to match the exaggerated breathing he was doing through the phone. You wanted to say something to him, to explain what was going on, but whenever you opened your mouth, another violent, gasping cry came out.

“B. He-he-he-” Black dots started appearing in your vision and you knew if you didn’t get ahold of yourself, you were going to pass out. With all the strength you could muster, you sucked in one deep, choppy breath. It left you in a painful exhale, your chest so tight it physically hurt. With violently shaking hands, you picked your phone up again. A brand new bout of nausea overtook you when you sent Bradley your location.

Paul had known where you’ve been for months, yet you had never even shared it with your own boyfriend.

“Can you - come - come get me?” you managed to choke out. “Please? I - I can’t -”

“I’m on my way, baby. Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: So.....Paul is the worst. Yikes. AHHHHH. I am so damn nervous about your reactions to this one. I hope it lived up to expectations.

Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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faulty-writes · 4 months

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[ Hello followers and or fans. I present to you a Tomura Shigaraki piece! This was inspired by the game Coffee Talk. I haven’t finished it, so no spoilers, please. Speaking of which, this piece may have minor manga spoilers so beware. There are also minor themes of kidnapping, a touch of blood, and unwanted affection. It’s Shigaraki, so shouldn’t really expect anything less. ]

[ Being the owner of a coffee shop wasn’t easy, but you found purpose in it. While you were used to all sorts of characters entering your shop for a late-night cup of joe, none was stranger than the hooded man who began frequenting your shop. After a small conversation with him, you’re left feeling a bit shaken. Little do you know that he’s Tomura Shigaraki and he has plans for you. ]

As Tomura sat at his table in the corner of the small coffee shop in Esuha City, his partially gloved hands tightly gripped the cup of coffee he held. It burned him up to see you converse with another man who was one of those lame so-called “heroes.”

A young and ignorant one at that, who thought boasting about being assigned to night patrol for the first time was some monumental accomplishment. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t. He didn’t bother to catch the stupid hero’s name, not that it would matter.

But he had the most irritating suit that consisted of a yellow visor, and a white skin-tight top with some obscure number written across it. He also had yellow and green shoulder pads and a long red cape with matching red gloves, blue pants, and white knee-high boots.

His hair was styled in the most idiotic way Tomura had ever seen. Seriously, who spikes up their hair like that? His eyes were also beady and blue. But what was most irritating was that smile. Damn, he’d like to take a hammer and impact those teeth.

This wasn’t what made his blood boil, however. Oh no. It was the fact that you smiled and laughed at the pathetic excuse for a hero’s lame jokes. Like super lame jokes. Yeah, maybe you were just being polite. Business was business.

This didn’t cross Tomura’s mind. He thought your actions were genuine, and damn, did that piss him off. Why the hell were you even entertaining heroes? Yeah, your coffee shop was relatively new to the area, but it had unique features that set it apart from the competition.

For starters, it opened during the evening and remained open until dawn. You were a lifesaver for those who started their work shift at night. You also helped struggling students who needed a boost of caffeine and a quiet place to work on their assignments.

Or idiot wannabe heroes who thought they were just so cool because they patrolled the streets under moonlight. He clenched his jaw. Oh, if only he knew where the egotistical idiot was patrolling, he’d easily end his damn life. Turn him into nothing but a miserable pile of dust.

It was almost laughable to think that you didn’t even know he was one of the most feared villains in Japan and the leader of The League of Villains. Then again, ignorance was bliss and even villains needed a break occasionally.

This was another reason he tolerated frequenting your shop even if he just stumbled into it one night after “taking care of business.” From what he could recall that night he found himself on the edge of collapsing from exhaustion. It had been pouring rain and he was staggering along the crowded sidewalk.

His anger grew with everyone that passed him and the urge to disintegrate them was intensifying. He was wearing his usual get-up that evening: a large, oversized hood that concealed his face, long skinny jeans that ended just above his ankles, and his usual red sneakers.

He growled in frustration and reached up to wipe his face, but it was of no use considering the rain continued to come down. However, when he lowered his hand, he saw it. The neon sign gleamed through the rain and drew him in like a beacon.

This is also when he made the, admittedly, stupid choice to seek temporary shelter in your establishment and possibly hold everyone hostage if needed. He remembered the sickening warmth that washed over him, in contrast to the cold weary weather when he stepped inside.

He also recalled how the scent of coffee filled his nostrils, along with hints of cinnamon and honey. But what was most eye-catching was you. From the moment he spotted you behind the counter crafting one of your specialty drinks that wasn’t even on the menu for some useless dirtbag present in your shop at the time, he was intrigued.

Of course, that was another unique aspect of your establishment. You were known for your experimental drinks and always wanted to see how well they did with the few customers you had. Regardless, the way you gracefully moved behind the counter made him mesmerized.

He remained frozen at the door, seemingly in a trance until you looked at him and casually welcomed him to the shop. Your equally sickening smile seemed to churn something deep inside him and instead of feeling exhausted, a new and strange emotion enveloped him.

Maybe it stemmed from the fact that even if he looked like a drenched rat who just finished fighting its way through the sewers and onto the streets of the world above, you showed him kindness. He walked to the counter, ignoring the looks of concern from people he didn’t give a damn about.

Hell, he could easily murder them if given the chance. He laid his hands on the counter, ensuring that his thumbs were tucked inward and pressed against the bottom of his palms. His hood continued to cast a shadow over his face, and despite his intense red eyes staring you down, your stupid smile remained.

“What would you like to drink?” You asked, making his lips turn upward in a snarl. “Nothing,” he barked back. He had no money, not that he would pay even if he wanted anything from the shitty excuse for a coffee shop. As if sensing his hostility, you took a step back and cocked your head, appearing more like a puppy than a barista.

But the way your eyes studied him as if looking through his soul, made him curl his hands into fists. It was clear he was getting annoyed, both because of your reaction and the few customers observing his interaction with you. Then you said something he didn’t expect, “It’s on the house.”

At first, he thought it was because, to you, he looked homeless. Maybe down on his luck, but that didn’t make sense. You could have easily told him to leave if he didn’t order anything, and what authorized you to give drinks on the house?

That’s when something clicked and after glancing around to see if there were any other baristas present, he came to the only conclusion that was possible. ‘Hm…so you’re the owner, huh?' He remained quiet and briefly glanced at the menu.

You noticed what he was doing and glanced at it too, but it was challenging to know exactly what he was looking at. So instead, you suggested, “An expresso maybe?” His eyes tore from the menu and lingered on you for a long moment.

Then he shoved his hands into his pockets, marched over to the table in the corner of your shop, and carelessly plopped down. You blinked, somewhat perplexed but grabbed a coffee cup and began making the espresso for him. He wasn’t the first hard-headed customer you had encountered.

Another wave of exhaustion enveloped him, and he closed his eyes briefly, almost ready to give in when he heard something. It sounded like two glass objects scraping against one another. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was you and that damned smile. The second was the expresso sitting on a saucer plate.

A soft growl rumbled in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was more irritated that you had given him something he didn’t even ask for or the fact that he let you get away with it. He could easily turn everyone in the cafe into dust, including you…so why didn’t he?

“Pff,” he grumbled and slowly straightened his posture before slipping two fingers through the cup’s handle. He brought it to his lips and paused when he noticed you were still standing near him. “Go away,” he demanded, his words coming out with a snarl.

“Oh, uh, sure!” You replied, nervously scampering away like a frightened rabbit back to the safety of its burrow. Yet, it was this moment that burned into his memory and kept him returning. Over a short time, however, his slight curiosity about you turned into an obsession.

The same obsession that burned with unmistakable fury whenever someone else captured your attention, even if for a moment. “Heh, well it was super amazing talking to you but I gotta go! See ya!” When that damned blond-headed idiot of a hero finally left, Tomura sighed, and his tense muscles relaxed.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced around. There were still a few people present, one at the counter mindlessly playing on their phone. Another sitting on the far side of the said counter, reading a book and casually taking sips of their drink.

The last one sat in the opposite corner away from everyone, typing on their laptop. “Tch,” he clenched his jaw and dug his nails into the table. He wanted them to leave so he could finally be alone with you. But if that’s the game they wanted to play, he’d wait them out. Oh yes, he would win.

Slow and steady, as much as he hated it, was the right approach to this situation. Like any good villain, he wasn’t about to deviate from the plan brewing in his mind. Oh no. He’d be patient. Like an animal stalking its prey and pouncing at exactly the right moment. So, there he remained, studying every move you made.

From the way your fingers grazed along the machines, to the way you poured milk into lattes and skillfully morphed it into art. He burned every facial expression you made into his mind. He pondered how it would be to see that sweet face turn into horror when you realized who he was.

The cafe emptied shortly after two in the morning. A twisted smirk danced across his face when he pressed his foot against the floor and slid his chair back to create an eerie scraping noise that echoed through the building and caught your attention.

To his amusement, you jumped, and your pretty little eyes were filled with concern as they looked in his direction. He tried to suppress the chuckle building up in his throat and went to the counter. Your back was now turned to him, seemingly over the slight scare he had given you.

He briefly glanced at the counter, noticing an empty cup sitting on a saucer. He grinned and picked it up, hovering it just over an inch above the counter before releasing it. He took pride in watching you jump and spin on your heels. Your eyes were yet again wide, and fear sparkled in them.

That made his lips curl into a wicked smirk. He couldn’t help but think about how he’d love to see that look in your eyes every day. Oh yes, what a good little addition you’d make to The League. Then again, he didn’t want to share you per se, so maybe he’d just keep you to himself.

Kurogiri would have some questions, he knew. It was almost pathetic that he needed a caregiver, but Kurogiri was trained to obey his every order. However, as of late, Tomura noticed a concerned and suspicious leer in those yellow eyes. Of course, that was something only an idiot would miss.

For now, he was focused on you and the way your hand was still pressed against your chest as you looked at him, still as a statue. “Uh heh…” you chuckled, sensing the awkward tension in the air. Then a thought dawned on you that this man had wandered into your cafe when it was raining particularly hard one night a few months back.

In addition to providing a welcoming environment, you connected with your customers and assisted them in any way you could. This usually involved letting them talk through their problems and sharing advice. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case with this mysterious man.

He didn’t budge no matter how hard you tried to crack his shell and rarely spoke more than three words to you. If you were being honest, after that night, you thought you’d never see him again. Yet, to your surprise, he continued to return.

Another thought dawned on you as he continued to stare at you from across the counter. This was that you didn’t even know his name. Even if you did, it wouldn’t change that there was something about him you couldn’t place.

Ultimately, however, you knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover. Even though that was quite hard not to do considering he never showed his face, some kind of hood was always hiding it. “Uh, hello,” you said, shifting your feet.

Your greeting was met with silence and the tension seeping through the air grew thicker with each second that passed, slowly suffocating you. For a moment, you thought it was because of the lack of customers and tried to convince yourself that if your cafe wasn’t empty, this would feel less…strange.

But another part of you couldn’t help but, again, feel there was something sinister about him. Although he had done nothing wrong…yet. “Uh,” you cautiously approached him, “is there something you need?” That same wicked smirk decorated his lips, and he took a seat at the counter, resting his arms against it.

His gaze was intense, and the longer he stared at you, the more your heart raced. His smirk then softened, and he leaned his elbow on the counter, cradling his cheek in his hand. “So,” the raspy sound of his voice shattered the silence that permeated the air, “what do you think of All Might?”

You knit your eyebrows, shocked that he spoke more than three words, and asked you a question on top of it. You had a front-row seat for most of the conversations at your cafe, conversations that sometimes, discussed heroes, and on occasion, the number one hero, All Might.

“Um…” you glanced away, uncertain how to answer. You had never been asked exactly what you thought of him! You knew many people admired and adored All Might and for obvious reasons. It surely wasn’t an easy feat becoming the number one hero, let alone retaining the spot for as long as he did.

But were you obsessed with him like others? Did you rush to get his autograph whenever you saw him? Not really. Maybe that was because you were busy trying to maintain your own life. In addition, keeping up with the fabulous daytime life when you were a night owl was hard.

Not to say crime stopped at any point of the day or night, but things seemed calmer when the moon and the stars decorated the sky. You awkwardly rubbed the side of your arm, your stomach twisting and causing a small wave of nausea to consume you.

“Well, he, uh, I mean I think…” you tried taking a deep breath to calm yourself. ‘Come on! You’ve dealt with worse customers,’ you thought before your eyes shifted back to him, and his shadowed face. Yet you could still see that smirk and it drew you in, as much as you hated to admit that.

“I guess I don’t have an opinion on him,” you replied, shrugging. “Kind of hard to keep up with uh, the heroes when you’re busy with your own life,” you motioned to your surroundings with an awkward chuckle. Tomura narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t necessarily the response he was looking for.

It didn’t take an idiot to realize you didn’t put much thought into it like you only said it to please him. While he didn’t mind that, he also appreciated the truth. “And what makes him so damn great?” His voice somewhat fluctuated as he spoke, and you sensed a happy tone dancing within it.

You shrugged, “I guess what makes anyone great?” Your answer stumped him. His posture stiffened, and he lowered his hand from his cheek. “Hm,” that smirk faded. “Is that right?” He asked before leaning over the counter.

“And what’ll happen when he falls?” His question made you jolt and look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Heh, a-are you a villain or something?” You joked, and to your surprise, he laughed, and the sound of it caused a violent shiver down your spine.

Another smirk painted his face and he slowly got up from his seat. He didn’t say anything, but the way he stared left you shivering again. Then he turned and walked to the door. The familiar sound of a bell signified his departure, and you leaned against one of the coffee machines behind you, feeling the heat against your back.

Your heart remained fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird and a wave of fear washed over you. The suspicions you had about him were now confirmed. There was something sinister about him. It didn’t sit right with you that your joke remained unanswered either.

In the back of your mind, however, there was a small voice, maybe your conscience, that told you it was still wrong to judge him. But after that interaction, how could you not? You took a deep breath, trying to regain your previous composure, and looked around the empty room.

The sounds of the night city continued to gently hum as you finally found the courage to close your shop. However, you were unwilling to open tomorrow for fear of seeing him again. Your customers, the very few you had anyway, would understand if you needed a break.

The sound of crunching leaves and twigs underneath his feet, and the melody of bugs chirping and owls singing in the night fell deaf to his ears. His hood, unlike in your cafe, was down, allowing his silver-white hair to shimmer against the moonlight as he walked down the dirt path that led to The League of Villains hideaway.

He scanned his surroundings again. Unlike the usual formal attire he wore, he sported a white sleeping cap with a pom pom at the end of it. His normal metal brace encircled his neck. A cotton button-up pajama top with purple polka dots and matching bottoms covered his body.

While he tried to sleep, it proved impossible as his thoughts remained on Tomura. It was his purpose to always serve and protect him. Yet, as of late, the young boy favored departing for an unknown location and was absent for hours at a time.

While he did not doubt Tomura’s abilities, that didn’t make his purpose less important. If something happened to him, he needed to be there to ensure he did not receive harm. As such, this was not the first night he had stayed up into the early morning hours waiting for the boy to return.

The sky was still dark, but he knew the sun would rise soon. His purple and black mist swirled around as he anxiously awaited Tomura’s arrival. When he heard footsteps approaching, he remained still and focused his attention forward. Relief washed over him when he saw exactly who he was looking for.

“Tomura Shigaraki,” he said, his voice deep and stern. His eyes narrowed the closer the boy came. As usual, no words were spoken between them but rather a silent acknowledgment as Tomura passed him and opened the door.

Kurogiri followed him inside and ensured the door was locked. Tomura grumbled as he walked up to the bar and took his seat. He stared mindlessly at the counter that reminded him of your cafe and the terrified look on your face replayed in his mind, making him smile.

This immediately caught Kurogiri’s attention as he walked behind the counter and to the small bar. Tomura rarely smiled unless someone else was hurt or he felt victory within his grasp. He narrowed his eyes but remained quiet as he grabbed a clean glass.

He added a few ice cubes to it, ignoring the clinking sound they created when they hit the bottom. He then grabbed the whiskey that Tomura was prone to drinking and filled the glass halfway before presenting it to him.

However, he noticed Tomura grabbed the glass and merely stared at the ice cubes floating in it. While he had no idea what was brewing in the boy’s mind, he would be shocked to know that as soon as Tomura looked at the glass, his mind envisioned a coffee cup.

It frustrated him to know you were on his mind again. Yet, the idea that you could be of use to him clouded his judgment. Surely there had to be a reason why he felt drawn to you. While he despised the feeling that stirred inside him whenever he was near or thought about you, he knew he would put it to rest.

Yes…soon he wouldn’t have to worry about this feeling bothering him constantly. Silence filled the space between them as Tomura finally sipped his whiskey. Kurogiri watched him intensively as if studying his every move. Perhaps if he had done that before, he would know the answer to the question he was about to ask.

“Where have you been lately, Tomura Shigaraki?” Without the hand obscuring his face, he could see how Tomura’s facial features contorted with annoyance and anger at his question. However, he continued to push, having become too used to the boy’s immature and sometimes childish attitude.

“You have been acting strangely lately, Tomura Shigaraki. I cannot help but assume there is something you have your sights set on,” he stated. “If that is true, then I must insist that I aid you in any way possible.” He would not accept any other alternative.

A growl rumbled in his throat, but he should have known this would happen. It seemed that he couldn’t go too far without Kurogiri trailing behind him. Hell, even when he tried to keep something secret, he was always found out.

It was pretty damn annoying, but in any case, Kurogiri was a Nomu and as such, he was created to obey his every command. Although at times, it seemed like he had free will. He lowered the glass with a thud and glared at Kurogiri.

However, he didn’t falter under the boy's intense gaze. Rather, he returned it with a blank stare. Tomura sighed and tightened his grip around the glass. The temptation to shatter it in his hand was strong as the image of you popped into his head again.

“Y/n,” the hatred in his eyes grew dark and obsessive as he growled your name and noted that it weighed heavily on his tongue. Kurogiri remained silent, processing what he had just been told. “I see,” he said, stepping closer although the counter separated them.

“Is this person of interest to you, Tomura Shigaraki?” He assumed that you were another villain or perhaps a hero student and that Tomura wished to recruit you as a member of The League of Villains. The burning in his throat was intense when he swallowed the rest of his whiskey.

Silence filled the air before he answered, “Yeah.” Kurogiri nodded but also noted that Tomura’s stare was now directed at the ice cubes that littered the bottom of his glass. This was, again, a strange reaction that contrasted with the boy’s usual personality.

After another minute of silence, an angry expression enveloped Tomura’s features. “They are,” he hissed, and like before, his grip tightened around the glass. His knuckles turned white, and several sharp cracks echoed as it shattered, showering his hand in shards.

Although many would react with concern when something like this happened, Kurogiri grabbed a rag and disposed of the shards that now decorated the counter. “Tomura,” he said. His tone was like that of a father, and he ignored the growl he received in response.

Instead, once the shards were dealt with, he grabbed Tomura’s hand and brushed away any remaining bits of glass. He noticed the few small cuts now etched into the boy’s skin, but it was unlikely he’d want them properly taken care of.

“What do you intend to do regarding Y/n?” He asked once he put the rag away. At the question, Tomura smiled wickedly and leaned his elbow on the counter. “I have a few ideas…” he responded. “I see,” Kurogiri leaned closer to him, “and what do you need me to do, Tomura Shigaraki?”

The sun had gone down by the time you arrived at your shop. Although you chose not to open, you figured you’d take this opportunity to catch up on work you had been falling behind on. This included inventory stock and maintenance.

Additionally, you had ideas for new cafe drinks you wanted to experiment with. Since the curtains were drawn and the establishment was closed, you could do so in peace. ‘Katz Caffeine Coffee Cafe’ His eyes narrowed when he read the sign. Not exactly a catchy name for an establishment.

He could hardly believe that Tomura stated you owned this cafe. While Esuha City was known for its nightlife, he still thought it strange that you chose to open a coffee shop that stayed open late into the morning hours when there were already so many others that did so.

‘Perhaps they think they are…capable of conquering the competition,’ he thought, turning to Tomura who was wearing all-black clothing, including another hood that concealed his face. Of course, that meant very little considering the course of events to come.

“Are you ready, Tomura Shigaraki?” He asked, ignoring the passersby on the sidewalk. They needed to accomplish this quickly and ensure that any heroes present in the area could not interfere before Tomura got what he wanted.

He chuckled in response to Kurogiri’s question and lifted his head, his red eyes beaming from underneath the shadow cast over his face. “Yes,” he said, before pointing at Dabi who was currently nestled in the alleyway between your coffee shop and the next useless building.

His arms were crossed, and his leg was bent, allowing him to press his foot against the opposite building wall. He was wearing his usual attire, a large overcoat with multiple coattails. His shirt was crisp white and wrinkled, hanging loosely from his chest.

His pants were dark in color and had multiple stitch marks across them and as usual, he was wearing combat boots. “Pff,” he sighed. In the back of his mind, he wondered how he could agree to this. However, he had always been good at killing people and causing chaos.

The thought of that alone brought a wicked smirk to his face. He stepped out of the alleyway, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced up, noting the moon and stars in the sky before looking at Tomura. “What do you want me to do again?” He asked, his voice carrying a certain annoyed tone to it.

“Why don’t you just shut up and put those damn flames to use?” Tomura hissed in response. “Make sure these stupid people stay away from this place until I’m done getting what I want,” he said, narrowing his eyes on Dabi who, from the start, had always been a thorn in his side.

But at least he knew who was in charge and had enough sense to follow the orders he was given. Dabi rolled his eyes. What the hell was so damn special about you he didn’t know. But regardless, he continued to watch as people walked up and down the sidewalk.

“Whatever,” he replied before curling his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking softly as he did so. A blue flame ignited, engulfing his hands and wrists. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled and walked out into the middle of the street.

Car tires screeched, and horns sounded through the air. Some foolish individuals even cursed him out and asked what he was doing. They quickly received an answer when his flames consumed their cars and panic erupted. All of which made him smile.

“Heh,” his grin widened as he watched some people push others to the ground and trample them. Tomura watched the spectacle with amusement before walking to the front door of your establishment, Kurogiri trailing behind him.

“Open your warp gate,” he demanded. Without hesitation, the dark fog that surrounded Kurogiri’s body extended and formed what appeared to be a dark portal in front of Tomura. He stared at it a moment before stepping through, disappearing into the void.

Panic struck you when screams sounded from outside causing you to drop the mug you were holding. It shattered instantly when it hit the floor. Instead of cleaning it up, you jumped over the counter and rushed to the large display window to the left side of your shop.

You reached a shaky hand out for the curtain, your heart pounding erratically in your chest making you feel short of breath. Your throat tightened, forcing you to swallow hard as you finally pulled it back and peeked outside. The only thing you saw was a blinding flame, blue in color, blazing in the street in front of your shop.

The building across the way crumbled under the flames that consumed it. However, you also noticed an individual dressed in black standing in the street, among the flames that didn’t appear to be harming him. It was like he admired the destruction around him including the panicked individuals who continued to run away.

You knit your eyebrows and screamed when he suddenly turned his head. His eyes, almost as blue as the fire that danced around him, seemed to peer right into your soul. You released the curtain immediately before pressing your back against the wall.

Your heart was pounding, and you suspected that at any moment it would leap out of your chest entirely. Your legs trembled threatening to give out from underneath you. The fear that consumed you at the moment was unlike anything you had experienced before. Yes, villains have attacked Esuha City countless times but rarely at night.

You grasped your chest, allowing your nails to dig into the front of your shirt before something else caught your eye. Your head snapped sideways, and you watched in horror as some type of dark portal appeared. In a panic, you ran back to the counter and jumped over it to hide.

You crouched down, pressing your hands against the top of your head and forcing yourself to hold your breath when you heard footsteps. Tomura grinned as he stepped out of Kurogiri’s warp gate and glanced around. It almost brought him delight seeing your shop empty.

Of course, he knew better than to be fooled into thinking it was actually empty. Having overheard one of your many conversations with one of the many idiots that took your attention away, he knew you took priority over certain duties regarding your business when it was closed.

He knew you were here. Even if you were hiding, he’d find you. He continued forward, stopping at the counter, unaware that you lingered on the other side. He allowed his partially gloved fingers to skim across its slick surface.

“Tomura Shigaraki,” Kurogiri said, walking behind him. Your eyes widened when you heard his name, and that fear intensified, making you freeze completely. Tomura Shigaraki. He was a ruthless villain and leader of The League of Villains.

You couldn’t bear to think about the thousands of people he’s harmed, much less killed without feeling nauseous. However, this didn’t stop questions from racing through your mind. What was he doing? What did he want from you? Were you going to die tonight? Why did he bring someone else with him?

You swallowed hard, letting out a quiet breath, and slowly positioned yourself on your hands and knees. Maybe if you crawled around to the storage area located at the back of your shop you could escape or so you hoped. Tomura faced Kurogiri with a glare.

“Are you most certain Y/n is present?” He asked, aware that his question may sound silly, perhaps even stupid. “Of course, they’re here!” He growled in response, slamming his hand on the counter making the sound echo eerily through the shop.

A tremble coursed through your body when you heard your name, and you continued to crawl as quickly and as quietly as you could across the floor. However, you only made it halfway before something pierced your hand. You forgot about the mug you had shattered earlier.

It was one of those shattered pieces that cut your hand easily, making you hiss out involuntarily. Once you registered your actions, you clamped your non-bloody hand over your mouth, silently cursing yourself for giving away your location.

Panic coursed through your body again, and you decided it was better to run and die than to be a sitting duck. However, by the time you got up, Kurogiri had already moved. “You will not escape!” he bellowed. The mist around him spread like a blanket of darkness and his eyes blazed with fury.

Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you stumbled to a stop, and you grasped onto the counter to prevent yourself from falling. The dull ache from the cut on your palm was nothing compared to the dread you felt when you locked eyes with those yellow orbs that were filled with nothing less than hatred.

Once he was certain you were not escaping, the mist that had expanded from his body shrank. That’s when you noticed the oddly formal outfit he was wearing. The crisp long-sleeved button-up shirt caught your attention first, followed by the black tie that adorned its collar and was tucked behind the gray vest that hugged his figure.

He also wore a black belt and dark dress pants with polished Oxford shoes. His eyes narrowed and he looked at you with such intensity and sternness that you almost felt like a child. A frightened child trying to keep the monsters under their bed at bay.

Without thinking, you turned and ran in the opposite direction. What exactly you were planning to do was up for debate. Reaching the front door would be ideal for escape, but then you’d have to deal with the villain outside who was currently turning everything into ash.

Well, either way, it was better than dealing with two villains in a small space. Unfortunately, like Kurogiri, Tomura cut you off quickly. You stumbled to a stop again, but unlike before, you lost your footing and fell onto the floor. You frantically crawled back, despite realizing you were trapped.

“P-please I…” you could still feel those yellow eyes burning a hole in your back. Swallowing heavily, you thought it best to focus on the man in front of you. However, an odd feeling of déjà vu washed over you when you noticed the outfit he was wearing.

“W-wait a minute, y-you’re-” That odd customer, the one that had visited your shop countless times before and the one whose conversation left you trembling. “Heh, oh good, you recognize me,” he replied and lowered his hood. The sight of his appearance sent another shiver down your spine.

He was a slender man, with skin as pale as the moonlight. In addition to the wrinkles around his eyes, his right eye had visible scars across it. His lips were severely chapped and the right side, too, had scarring and a small mole. His hair was silver-white, and half of it was tied behind his head.

The front of his bangs hung in his face in uneven waves and the bottom portion of his hair brushed against his shoulders. His menacing smirk coupled with his bright red irises sent another shiver down your spine. The answer to your previous question was revealed.

He was a villain and he had pretended to be your customer. What could he possibly gain from doing that?! It didn’t make sense, and you still didn’t know why he was here or what he wanted from you. Of course, you failed to realize that he continued to return because he was fascinated by you rather than your coffee shop.

He chuckled, and the disgruntled sound made you spring to your feet. The urge to run was overwhelming, but when you glanced over your shoulder, you saw his accomplice was still present. Additionally, you knew he’d stop you if you made such a foolish attempt. Clenching your jaw, your hands balled into shaky fists.

‘Damn it!’ you cursed inside your head, feeling your eyes burn as they watered over like a dam ready to burst. Kurogiri noticed this, but it only added to his confusion about why Tomura was after you. Someone so delicate and fragile.

It was clear you had nothing to offer The League, yet he refused to believe it had to do with feelings. Tomura was emotional, yes but his emotions were usually negative. Kurogiri was certain that, if by chance, the young boy fell in love, he would take after All For One.

He would not see his token of affection as someone to take care of and tend to. Rather he would see them as his possession. Something that belonged to him and him alone, and whoever dared to do something foolish like take his possession away would suffer a most gruesome death.

Perhaps that was the recent change in Tomura. He had found a new possession to claim as his. Your chest felt heavy, and yet tight as if you were crushed by an enormous weight. Your whole body trembled, and your eyes were wide and looked irritated.

You swallowed and pressed yourself against one of the expresso machines that littered the counter. It was nestled between the coffee grinder and the iced coffee dispenser. Both threatened to tip over as you desperately grasped onto them like they were the only lifeline you had.

Once again you felt the dull ache of your injured palm and it reminded you that this was not a dream. Tomura continued to step toward you, further emphasizing that you were trapped like an injured animal in the corner of an alley.

The echo of your heart pounded in your ears and like you were deprived of oxygen, there was a suffocating tension in the air. His eyes gleamed like a powerful demon as he growled, “Don’t look so damn scared!” and slammed his hands against the machines that were currently digging into your back.

He grinned at the sound of your scream and pride filled him as he observed the devastated state you were in. Then he leaned back to remove his gloves. Kurogiri watched him drop them to the floor and made a mental note to pick them up before they left.

Although Tomura had plenty of specially made gloves, he preferred to keep as many as possible. “Now, heh, I’ll make this simple for you,” he said slamming his hands against the machines behind you again. The only difference this time was several loud cracks sounded, and in a matter of seconds they began to decay.

Their once shiny and solid surfaces turned gray and crumbled like sand. You felt the weight of them disappear, forcing you to steady yourself as they turned to dust. Your eyes never left his, however. As terrified as you were, you refused to look away.

“Come with me, or I’ll fucking kill you,” he growled, and his words shook you. There was no way you wanted to die, but you couldn’t go with him! That was a fate worse than death. In addition, you couldn’t abandon what you created. This shop, this business was your life.

Even though you only had a handful of customers, they needed this shop to act as a safe zone. A place where they could talk about their worries and problems without judgment. The very idea of taking that away finally broke you, and a soft sob passed your lips before hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

Tomura paused, and his eyes traced the tears that slid down your face and slowly dripped from your chin. Then his eyebrows knitted as if he was confused about why you were crying. But it didn’t matter. Even if you foolishly refused to go with him, he’d take you by force. As the seconds ticked by, Kurogiri narrowed his eyes.

“Tomura Shigaraki,” he said, watching the boy pause and look at him with a snarl. He knew he needed to be careful with his next words. While there was the possibility that you meant something to Tomura, even if the boy himself hadn’t fully realized that yet, it was clear this was going nowhere.

Despite knowing he did not take failure well, Kurogiri needed to ensure Tomura returned to The League safely with or without you. However, his focus turned to the front door of your establishment which not only ignited into flames but was ripped off its hinges when Dabi forcibly used his fire to barge his way in.

Tomura, surprisingly, seemed unphased by this sudden intrusion despite your accompanying scream. He leaned back, looking at Dabi blankly. “Just what the hell is taking so damn long?” He questioned, and your throat tightened as you tried to suppress another sob.

With Tomura in front of you, it was impossible to see the man who forced his way into your shop. Not that it would matter considering your vision was blurry due to tears. You could, however, see the blue flames that were beginning to consume your cafe, and the heat made you sweat.

The only salus you had, as much as you hated to admit it, was Tomura shielding you from who you could only assume was the same man you had seen in the street earlier. You then assumed that he was also part of The League of Villains.

“The heroes have been alerted, let’s go already,” he hissed, gesturing behind him and toward the now broken entranceway. Pain danced in your eyes as you watched his flames consume the building inch by inch. Tomura growled. “Shut up!” He snapped before looking at Kurogiri.

“Well?” He said, snatching his gloves off the floor and making you flinch. Sweat dripped down your forehead, and your tears had evaporated. You felt faint among the other overwhelming emotions that caused your knees to buckle and you to fall back onto the floor in front of Tomura.

He paused and glanced at you before his eyes fell back on Kurogiri. He looked at him blankly, awaiting his orders. “Use your warp gate already!” Tomura screamed like a spoiled child and placed his hands on his hips before glaring at Kurogiri.

He placed his hand on his chest and bowed. “As you wish, Tomura Shigaraki,” he replied, and your heart jumped in your chest. ‘Warp gate?’ Suddenly that image of the dark portal from earlier popped into your head. That was his quirk! Your eyes widened when you watched more dark portals appear, seemingly out of thin air.

You gasped. “Wait!” You cried out, but it was too late. The ground dissolved beneath you. A rush of wind enveloped you, and the sensation of weightlessness before gravity kicked in and you fell flat onto solid ground. You groaned, noting the floor was cold and rough.

You recovered after a moment and slowly opened your eyes. Despite your vision spinning you could make out various glass bottles lining two wooden shelves, and the bright yellow light behind them only irritated your vision further.

“H-huh?” You pushed yourself onto your knees, slowly taking in your new surroundings. The dizziness caused a wave of nausea to flow over you, but you refused to give in to the feeling. Instead, you took a deep breath and continued looking around.

You noticed there was a doorway covered with a purple curtain next to the shelves. A wooden counter surrounded the area, and a small television rested at the end of the counter. If this was a bar, a wide-screen television was usually present.

‘Weird…’ you thought, before noticing the walls were made from brick and a coffee machine was sitting on a small table next to the television. Your heart sank in your chest as you were reminded of your cafe which was likely nothing but a pile of smelted wood and ash now.

Your head immediately snapped toward the purple curtain as another dark portal appeared. You watched in horror as Tomura stepped out and frantically crawled back, only to hit something. You trembled, feeling your throat tighten as you tilted your head to see that strange mist man. His eyes stared into your soul again.

“Ah!” You frantically twist your body, wanting to get away from him. However, you hit one of the shelves and the sound of the bottles clinking together echoed eerily through the room. “W-Where am I!?” You frantically asked, your voice dripping with fear. Tomura sighed when he walked up to you.

Knowing you were trapped again. You could only shake uncontrollably as he crouched down and forcibly grabbed your chin. You could feel his nails dig into your flesh through the glove he was wearing and when you looked into his eyes, they had an inhuman glint.

“Don’t ask such a stupid question,” he growled, baring his teeth, and tightening his grip making you wince. “Kurogiri,” he said when he released your chin and threw you back against the shelf, yet again making the bottles rattle.

Your heart pounded, and you fisted your hands into your hair. Ignoring the dried blood on your injured palm and the accompanying sting that came with it. “Yes, Tomura Shigaraki?” He replied, shifting his attention from you to him.

“Make sure their stupid hand is cleaned,” he said, referring to your injured palm. Yes, he wasn’t so ignorant as to not notice it. He took pride in being observant. Noticing every little detail always gives you an advantage over others.

Kurogiri found the request rather…strange and shifted his gaze to you. Despite the distressed state you were in, he wondered what it was about you that made Tomura act like he cared. ‘Yes...what does he see in this one?’ It was surely a mystery, but perhaps you’d prove to be useful.

“Yes, Tomura Shigaraki,” he repeated before walking closer to you. A gasp passed your lips and you snapped back to reality when you looked at him. Your eyes were wide, and your face was colorless. “After that,” Tomura said, grabbing your chin and making you hiss out.

His eyebrows slanted, his eyes beaming as he stared at you. His lips twisted into a smirk and when he leaned forward, you squeezed your eyes shut. You expected more pain, perhaps even his opposite hand on your throat or tangled in your hair.

Instead, you felt the roughness of his lips against yours making your eyes snap open and your breath hitch. Kurogiri’s eyes widened as he watched Tomura initiate this act of affection and his body stiffened. Perhaps it was his instinct to protect Tomura, but this was the first time he had seen the boy act this way.

His eyes then narrowed, and his body relaxed. ‘Perhaps they have some value to him,’ and if that were true, then Kurogiri would too, see value in you. Dabi grumbled as he pulled back the curtain, opening his mouth to speak. However, he stopped short when he saw the scene before him.

He narrowed his eyes and placed his hand on his hip. “Just what the hell is going on?” He demanded and Kurogiri looked at him, unable to explain. When he realized this, he shrugged. He didn’t really give a shit about what Tomura was doing or who he was going to fuck or do who knows what with.

“Whatever,” he replied before walking around the counter and toward the door, muttering about burning something else. He growled against your lips, making your eyes widen. However, it wasn’t that difficult to figure out it had something to do with his accomplice entering the room and leaving.

Tomura hated interruptions as much as failure. When silence fell over the room again, he noticed that your lips felt plump, smooth, and perfectly shaped. It made his blood boil, like an angry firestorm that destroyed everything in its wake. Yet, there was a trace of undeniable greed.

That possessive nature reminded him you were his to take and do with what he wanted. Yes, you were his possession, and you would never leave him. However, his lips tasted bitter to you and left your skin crawling. What should have been a warm or passionate action was an unwanted advancement.

Yet, you were too afraid to move away. To push him, do anything to stop or break the kiss. How could you live with yourself having kissed a villain? Did he want you because he had feelings for you? Was everything he and his accomplices did because he wanted you for himself?

The realization made you gag. Although it was silenced between your mouths, it didn’t make Tomura any less aware you were gagging, and he pulled away with another growl. However, instead of hurling you against the shelf again, he stood up and walked around the counter to take a seat.

Even when he was a short distance away from you, your body continued to tremble. Kurogiri, meanwhile, grabbed the first aid kit. While All For One provided Tomura with medical attention when needed, courtesy of Dr. Kyudai Garaki.

Kurogiri kept a first aid kit on hand because Tomura had some self-destructive habits, such as scratching his skin open, primarily around his neck area. As such, he attended to these minor injuries and ensured they were properly cleaned and bandaged when needed.

Although he hated the idea of using precious resources on anyone except Tomura, he could not resist an order given to him. So, he crouched down beside you and grabbed your hand, making you gasp again. He paused, only to look at you. It was clear you were scared, and your trembling didn’t help.

But you weren’t resisting and so he gently took your hand in his, examining the cut. The skin around it was red and inflamed, and dried blood was smeared across your palm and fingers. However, that was nothing minor disinfectant couldn’t take care of.

Compared to Tomura, Kurogiri had a strange gentleness about him. At least that’s what you could gather from the delicate way he cleaned your wound and wiped the dried blood away before wrapping it up. When he released your hand, you pressed it against your chest, feeling the now steady pace of your heart.

You watched as he gathered the bloody rag and threw it away. After that, he returned the first aid kit to its proper place and looked at Tomura. “I am finished,” he stated. “Heh, great,” Tomura replied and leaned over the counter, looking at you.

“Why don’t you be useful and make me a damn cup of coffee?” He replied, but his smile faded when his order was greeted with silence. “Now!” he snapped, slamming his hands against the counter, and making you stagger to your feet.

Your legs remained shaking and felt like they would give out from underneath you at any moment. Regardless, you stumbled to the coffee machine you spotted earlier and cried out when your knees bent, making you desperately clench onto the small table.

You sharply inhaled, not having realized you were holding your breath. You could feel the weight of Tomura and Kurogiri’s stares and your hands trembled as you tried to open the coffee machine to see if there were coffee grounds in it. As you did this, another dark realization came. You captured a villain’s heart.

But not just any villain’s heart, Tomura Shigaraki’s. The one who could turn you into dust at any moment. Instead of having the happy life you envisioned, one where you served customers, lent them your ear, gave advice, and shared happy memories with one another. You were now and forever Tomura’s object of affection.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x y/n #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x y/n #shigaraki x you #tomura x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #faulty writes: tomura shigaraki: one shot: 23 #faulty writes: tomura shigaraki: 23

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mattmurdocksscars · 2 years

Text

Don’t Let Go

Hello, loves! I’ve got some angst with a happy/hopeful ending for yall! I hope you enjoy!! Thanks to @phoebe-danvers for reading this over for me. You da best 😘 Reposting to see if this fixes the tag issues

Tagging: @darling-ghosts @budcooper @aellynera @shakespeareanwannabe @peachy-aisha @harleywaymustdie @enjoymyloves

Matt and you had been dating for some time. You knew his secret, knew about his time spent protecting Hell’s Kitchen and had accepted every single part of him. You thought that things were perfect.

And then she came.

Like a tornado in the night, Elektra whirled into your lives and left destruction in her wake. Matt and you had never really fought before but now you fought almost daily. You bickered over anything and everything, but especially about Elektra. You trusted Matt, you did, but when he started ignoring his other responsibilities for her, you drew the line. Seeing them together was even worse though. You may have trusted Matt, but you did not trust her. The way she looked at Matt and the way she acted around him told you everything you needed to know. Elektra wanted Matt for herself, and you wouldn’t put it past her to do anything in her power to get him. It made you nervous, but Matt merely brushed off your concerns, saying that even if she wanted him, he no longer wanted her.

And that should have been enough for you. Would have been enough if you didn’t continue to find them in increasingly compromising positions. Not only that, but they looked good together. Hell, they worked well together as well. It got easier and easier to think Matt would be happier without you. Between the fighting and the sight of them together… it wasn’t hard to put thoughts in your head.

Your breaking point came the night Matt came home with Elektra injured in his arms, Stick following close behind. You had immediately jumped up, asking what you could do to help only to be completely ignored. You had to watch as Matt ran around getting whatever Stick asked for, the way he kneeled beside her, her hand clasped in his as he prayed over her. What truly broke you though, was the conversation you heard them have in his bedroom as you sat with Stick.

“When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I- I felt hollow.” The first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks and you heard Stick sigh softly. You stood, ignoring everything else Matt said and walked to the door. You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your keys, hesitating for a minute before taking Matt’s key off your ring and leaving it on the table by the door. You walked out without another word.

You’re unsure of how long you walked for. It was dangerous to walk in Hell’s Kitchen this late at night by yourself, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. When your phone started ringing and you pulled it from your pocket to see Matt’s name, you broke down even harder. You waited for it to finish ringing before you called Karen. It rang a few times before she finally picked up, her voice rough with sleep. There was a beep, indicating another call coming through, but you ignored it.

“Hello?”

“K-Karen… I-I need somewhere to stay. Please. I can’t-“

“What happened? Where are you? Where’s Matt?” At his name, you sobbed again and shook your head, even knowing she couldn’t see it.

“Please, Karen. I don’t have anywhere else to go.” You heard her sigh sadly, before agreeing. She insisted she stay on the line with you as you made the trek to her place, and you were blessedly left alone for the duration of the trip. Karen was quick to open the door when you reached her place and she tugged you into her arms. She let you cry it out and when you finally managed to calm down, she asked you what happened. You knew you couldn’t tell her the whole truth since she still didn’t know about Daredevil so you told her the partial one.

“There was a woman in his bed… He said she was just a friend who needed somewhere to stay but then… then I heard him speaking to her. Karen, the way he spoke to her, I-“

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe Matt would do this to you, he seemed so happy with you…”

“I thought so too.” You whispered. The two of you stay up for a while talking until you finally fall into a fitful sleep on her couch.

You’re woken in the morning by a banging on her door and you can hear Matt call desperately through it for Karen. You flinch as Karen comes out of her room and she gives you a look.

“Stay there and I’ll get him to leave. He’s probably just worried about you.” Karen whispered before heading to the door. You sunk down on the couch so you were hidden and so you wouldn’t have to see Matt. Karen answered the door, only opening it a crack. You could hear them speak to each other, though you blocked out what was said until you heard Karen snap Matt’s name.

“She doesn’t want to see you. Matt-“ You peaked over the couch only to see Matt standing in the living room panting. You sunk down so only your eyes were visible. Karen came stomping in after him and opened her mouth to rip Matt a new one, but you stopped her.

“It’s… it’s fine, Kare. Can you give us a minute?” Karen looked between the two of you and you knew she wanted to argue but she finally sighed and nodded.

“Fine. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Behave, Murdock.” She snipped before slipping into her room and closing the door to give the two of you some semblance of privacy. Matt and you were silent for several minutes and you refused to be the one to break the silence this time.

“Why… why did you leave? Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Matt asked, his voice bordering on scolding and causing you to scoff.

“Not worried enough to come looking for me until the morning.” You snapped and Matt flinched.

“You know why I couldn’t come looking until this morning, that’s not fair.” You sighed and shook your head.

“Stick could have easily looked after her. Besides, I heard what you said. You didn’t need me there.” Matt furrowed his brow and cocked his head.

“What do you mean you ‘heard what I said’?” You looked away from him and picked at the blanket still covering your lap.

“I heard what you said to Elektra.” You swallowed thickly, emotion suddenly overwhelming you. “About how you felt hollow when you thought you might lose her. And I saw you, the way you were with her. You still love her.”

When Matt didn’t contradict you, you simply nodded.

“That’s what I thought. We’ve done nothing but fight since she got here and then last night… I refuse to let myself be pushed aside like this. If you don’t want this, if you want her instead, you need to man up and tell me.”

“Sweetheart, please-“ Suddenly angry, you stand and point a finger menacingly at him.

“No. No! You don’t get to call me that after last night.” Matt stepped forward until he was directly in front of you. He tried to put his hands on your arms, but you stepped away from him, shoving his hands aside.

“Listen to me. Please? You didn’t hear everything I said. Please, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you like this.” Matt pleaded, begging you to stop, to listen to him.

“Then explain, Matthew, because I don’t understand how this could be construed any other way.”

“You’re right, okay? I do still love her, and I think a part of me always will. But that doesn’t mean I want her. When I was talking to Elektra last night, I did tell her that I felt hollow when I thought I had lost her, but you know what else I told her? I told her that I didn’t want to feel that way, I didn’t want to care so much about her, because it wasn’t fair to you. Because I love you. I love you in a way that far outweighs my old love for her. I see a future with you, I want a future with you. Elektra and I had our time. I don’t want her, sweetheart, I want you.”

Tears ran unchecked down your cheeks as you listened to his earnest words. Even without his ability to listen to heartbeats and tell when people were lying, you knew every word was the truth. You just had to decide if it was enough.

“But Matt… all the fighting we’ve been doing, all the running around you’ve been doing… are you sure this is what you want? Cause it doesn’t feel like it. It doesn’t feel like you want me.” You sobbed out the last word and Matt could practically feel his heart shatter. He’d done this. He’d hurt you to the point that you genuinely felt he didn’t want you.

“Listen to me.” He breathed earnestly. “You are the only one I want. And I will do whatever it takes to fix this. I will get down on my knees right now and beg for your forgiveness if that’s what it takes. I am so sorry, sweetheart. I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like this. Please, sweetheart. Please give me a chance to fix this even though I don’t deserve it.”

You were quiet for so long that Matt was sure you were going to tell him to go to hell. And he would admit that he would deserve it. Yet when you began speaking, it was with a tentative hope.

“If… if you really mean that, we can work on it. But Elektra-“

“She’s already gone.”

“What?”

“I sent her and Stick on their way before I came looking for you. I had to give Elektra enough time to heal enough to be able to move, but once she was, I told them to leave.” You blinked up at Matt in shock.

“Really?”

“Really. And Elektra knows that any future dealings we have will be strictly professional. But once the Hand is taken care of, she knows to leave.” You didn’t need Matt’s abilities to know he was telling the truth. He really had come prepared to do whatever it took to get you back. So, you took a deep breath and you took a leap of faith.

“Okay, Matt. But you have a lot of making up to do. If you ever do anything like this again, I will leave and I won’t come back. We’re gonna need some ground rules while we sort this out but we can try.”

“Yes, sweetheart, of course. Anything you want or need, I will do. I just want this. I just want you.”

And while it would take you a long time to truly get past what happened, Matt never let you question his feelings for you again.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #daredevil x you #matt murdock fanfic

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gatheredfates · 21 days

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ALAICE DEVERAUX

Nicknames: Not applicable. Age: Twenty-one. Nameday: Twenty-Seventh Sun of the First Astral Moon (apparently I gave her my birthday, so that might change!) Race: Duskwight Elezen. Gender: Cis female. Orientation: Straight? Profession: Lady of the House of Deveraux and Dubois, last remaining survivor after the Dragonsong War; apprentice baker and occasional confidant to Firelight Trading Company.

PHYSICAL ASPECTS

Hair: A light blue, leaning more into teal. She tends to style it in loose curls around her shoulders. Eyes: She is heterochromatic! One eye is teal, the other is a steel grey. Skin: Pale with a silvery undertone; it tends to reflect whatever light hits it, rather than possessing it's own distinct colour. Tattoos/Scars: None of any note.

FAMILY

Parents: Lord and Lady Deveraux, dead by Alaice's sixteenth year. It is said that Lord Deveraux attempted to defend his wife from the dragons before he was engulfed in flames. No remains of her mother have been found. Siblings: Not applicable. Grandparents: Not applicable, more unfortunate souls lost to the war. In-Laws and Others: Alaice has a child from her first marriage, a daughter called Alyna. Her husband, Draeir Dubois, died under mysterious circumstances in the months preceding the Ishgardian/Dragon peace treaty, bringing no end of speculation from gentry and smallfolk alike. Some suspect his desire to expand his house beyond Foundation's spires drew ire from the High Houses and he was made an example of. Others suspect a more... intimate cause. Without a murder weapon or obvious intent, none can deduce a proper suspect.

She is particularly close to @riftdancing's Siyoh Mari who, whilst not understanding a lick of Ishgardian gossip, will happily entertain the confusion over a cup of tea as Alaice dramatizes. This leagues better than Elandervier who told her she'd 'rather chew on a voidsent's ass' and leaves at the very mention of anything to do with the city. She has an extremely complicated relationship with the other Elezen due to their mutual upbringings, trauma and reconciliation.

When Firelight is conducting business in Ishgard, she can be seen at its patriarch's side helping him navigate the intricacies of the city. Pets: Unless you count the many birds that have taken residence in her gardens, not applicable.

SKILLS

Abilities: Alaice is ice-aspected to a dangerous degree, and it's an element she has always tried to keep under wraps for fear of heresy and expulsion from the Holy See. As a result, the magic is unpredictable and emerges as a by-product of extreme situations/emotions. Only a select few people know she possesses such an ability. Hobbies: Like all ladies of her standing, Alaice was given a proper education including tutelage in deportment; music, song and dance; needlework and painting — among other gentle pursuits. She has a particular affinity for bird watching and, in the advent of her husband's death, has sunk herself readily into her little business as a baker.

TRAITS

Most positive trait: Alaice possesses a remarkable capacity for trust despite her confinement and husband's abuse. Worst negative trait: Her naïvety. As a woman constricted by the societal expectations of Ishgardian women, Alaice knows scarce little about the world around her — or even Ishgard proper. It is something she is working constantly to undo.

LIKES

Colours: Blue, white, silver, gold and shades of brown. However, given Ishgard's proclivity to the cold, any colour that can break through the sheen of snow is a welcomed addition in her eyes. Smells: Anything floral and/or citrus. These are not necessarily smells she will wear, but remind her of a time before the Calamity when the climate of Ishgard was better suited. She's also partial to vanilla, almond and loves the smell of rain. Textures: Knitted wool and smooth glass (or ice, though she tries not to think too much about it), the gentle prick of pine and the grooves in wood and stone. Drinks: Champagne, white wine and mead. She's also discovering some enjoyment of red wine, stay tuned if she gets more extreme!

OTHER DETAILS

Smokes: Rarely. She smoked recreationally after her parents died, a sort of 'dare' from the other ladies in her company, and took it up in secret as a way to release anxiety in the early days of her marriage — away from the prying eyes of her husband. Alaice quit after becoming pregnant with Alyna and hasn't taken it back up due to associating it with those negative experiences. Drinks: Semi-regularly. Much like smoking, she quit entirely when she got pregnant and tends to only partake as a social nicety. She can acknowledge where she was falling into unhealthy patterns when she was married and tries not to go back to those places. Drugs: Not applicable. Mount Issuance: Not applicable. Alaice was fed on the indoctrination by her husband that is not a lady's place to traverse, but that men should come to her. If she is needed for Firelight Business she will be escorted by their couriers, but she has no vehicle of her own. Been Arrested: No. Being a suspect was traumatic enough. Why would she kill her lord husband?

Tagged by: @eriyu — at least for this one! I'm going to try and do one character per tag. Tagging: @thefreelanceangel, @hythlodaes, @piyopikamika, @sealrock, @thevikingwoman & @yloiseconeillants! If you'd like a chance of being tagged, you can like my permanent interaction call here!

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : alaice #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea answers things #｡･ﾟﾟ･ — character answers / memes #look how cute she looks in the screenshot my little BABY #i have so many more to do from the tags #so #i'll be here all day SDFKJGHSDF

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chillychive · 11 months

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Having so much brain rot abt teacher Mumscarian so I’m gonna throw it at you lovely citizens of the inter webs:

- Grian is the part time art teacher who subs a lot at the school.

- Mumbo is the tech teacher who everyone is a little afraid of before they get to know him and realize he’s just a tall, intimidating goofball.

- Scar is an architect who is known for 2 things: Amazing architecture and his cat who he manages to mention in every single conversation regardless of topic. You could be talking to him about geothermal heating and he’d find a way to work in Jellie in something that made complete sense in the moment but was utterly bewildering upon reflection.

I accidentally wrote a fic, so here you go!:

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

Grian sighed, heading to the main office to check his mailbox after a long day. He passed his sister, Pearl’s desk, on the way and paused.

It was utterly wrecked, piles and piles of papers decorating it. She was so stressed out at dinner last night…

He sat down. She could owe him for this one. He sorted through the papers, finishing the easy ones and making neat piles of the rest.

It was nearly 9 now, he was going to be late for dinner, but he knew Mumbo was finishing up some work- a student had wrecked their project in the rain by accident so he was painstakingly assembling a replica for them so they didn’t fail the class- so he wouldn’t be home for a while, either.

Mumbo’s love for his students was a big part of what Grian loved about him- it was hardly the first time Mumbo had gone far, far out of his way to help one of them- once he actually drove all the way to a student’s house to talk them through a project that would make or break their grade after they called him crying.

Partially to distract himself and partially to annoy Mumbo, Grian pressed the button on the intercom. Everyone would be out of the building by now, so he wasn’t worried about annoying anyone.

“Main office to Mumbo Jumbo, how are you, dearest?”

It only took a couple seconds for Mumbo’s reply. “Grian?! How-“ Grian could hear Mumbo’s smile in his voice, “You almost made me drop the whole project! I’d have to start from scratch!”

Grian laughed. “Sorry…”

“No you’re not.”

“Nope!” Grian grinned into the mic, squinting at the page in front of him. “Did you go to the assembly today?”

“Yep… had to go to the first one and the third.”

“The presenter was so hot.”

Mumbo laughed. “Seriously, the man was way too attractive for his own good.”

“And his cat was the cutest.”

“No, the cutest was how much he loved her.”

Grian grinned. “Okay, you’ve got me there. And his eyes, too.”

“What about them? I wasn’t close enough to see.”

“They were like this really vibrant shade of green- I’ve literally never seen someone with that color eyes before- and it perfectly complemented his suit too- I wondered about the maroon until I saw his eyes…”

Grian slowed his ramble, and Mumbo clearly noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, yeah, he was so hot.”

Mumbo laughed. “I’m nearly done here, but I have a lot of clean up to do, so I’m gonna go for a bit.”

“Okay! I’m just tidying in the office, so I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Love you, Gri.” Mumbo said over the intercom, and Grian grinned, turning it off with a quick “Love you too.”

—-

Grian had finished cleaning Pearl’s desk and had moved on to his own papers when he was interrupted by the door opening.

“Ready to head home, babe?” He asked, not looking up.

Someone cleared their throat. “Sorry, just wanted to let you know I’m leaving…”

Well that definitely wasn’t Mumbo. Grian looked up.

“Oh.” His face was definitely burning. “I- sorry, can I help you?”

The man in front of him- a taller guy in a wheelchair, wearing a maroon suit with a cat snuggled into his lap. Grian drew his eyes up to his face, which was currently doing it’s best to color match the suit, to meet those startling green eyes.

“I’m Scar.” The man offered, rolling toward the desk. “Do I need to sign anything or can I just go?”

Scar’s voice was smooth, but his red face betrayed how flustered he was.

“Nope!” Grian squeaked.

“Hear that, Jellie? Time to go.”

Grian watched Scar’s rapidly retreating chair, cursing his bravery for what he was about to do. “Wait! There is something I need you to sign.”

Scar’s head turned quickly. In moments, he was in front of the desk again. Grian shoved the paper he had just written at him.

Scar read it, eyebrows raised. “This is a… non-disclosure agreement?”

“So you don’t tell everyone about what you overheard.” Grian explained, blushing.

Scar’s face stretched into a classic salesman smile. “Oh, but what if I want to tell someone?” He rolled closer. “I can think of a few things I’d like to say.”

Grian, stupidly, raised his chin at this. “Oh yeah?”

“How about, ‘Are you single?’” Scar asked, equally confident.

Grian frowned, pretending to ponder the question. He leaned forward, face inches from Scar’s. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a breach of contract…”

“Perfect.” Scar breathed. Grian started to lean in. Scar sat back in his chair, teasingly. “And what about the other fine fellow on the line? Would it be imprudent to ask about him as well?”

“Oh, not at all!” Grian grinned, sitting back in his seat. “In fact, I could call him right now, see if he has any objections to our little contract.”

“I think that would be quite appropriate.”

Grian turned on the intercom. “Mumbo Jumbo to the main office?” He turned it off again, leaving no room for Mumbo to protest.

“And now, would it be a breach of contract to suggest, say, dinner?” Scar asked, eyes gleaming.

“Actually, Mumbo and I are going for dinner soon… any objections to Thai?”

“That sounds amay-zing!”

It was that moment that Mumbo walked into the main office, tugging a backpack on wheels behind him. Mumbo stopped in the doorway seeing Scar. Behind Scar’s back, he mouthed to Grian “He’s been here the whole time?!”

“Ready to go?” Grian replied, standing and gathering his things. “We have a date.”

“Sorry, what?”

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

#after this they all went to go get dinner and then got together for real and then got married yadda yadda #also jimmy was in the school the entire time finishing up some stuff in PE and he heard the entire thing #he hasn’t been able to look at any of them normally since #mumscarian #teacher au #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #Characters not ccs #not rpf #mumbo jumbo #teacher mumbo jumbo #grian #teacher grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtws jellie #architect gtws #architect Goodtimeswithscar #mumbo and grian are NOT immune to the good times #misuse of intercoms

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thebibutterflyao3 · 1 month

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Day Thirty - Chamomile @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 1079 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Pandora glared at both of them before swivelling on her heel and walking away. The tension in her shoulders and jaw didn’t ease a whit.

“She's still angry,” Barty said quietly. “I’m sure you are too.”

Evan reluctantly slid down to the pavement and stepped back, then hugged himself tight. “I’m glad you’re trying and that you’re here.”

The unsaid “but” slashed open a new wound in his partially healed heart. His chest heaved as Evan dropped his gaze to the ground. Barty’s elation crashed with it. It couldn’t be that easy. He knew that.

Evan swallowed hard. “It hurt, Barty, more than anything…ever.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No. Don’t speak.”

Barty shut his mouth and slid further back onto the hood so his feet dangled an inch off the ground. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and hoped Evan didn’t notice how much his hands shook. It was just as well that Evan didn’t let him speak. A ball of dread had lodged in his throat and threatened to choke him.

Don’t push me away again, Rosie. I can’t stand it!

“I want to believe that you’re better with me. That you wouldn’t hurt me like you did Reg.” Evan’s voice was calm, almost flat, but his face was twisted into a grimace. “But you did. You lied to me and presented yourself as someone different. I’m not sure my Barty is the real Barty.”

Barty’s jaw worked from side to side as he fought back the urge to defend himself. Evan had a point. Several, actually. He’d intentionally given Evan only his best side and hidden the worst bits away.

“And so did I.”

Barty’s head snapped up. “What?”

Evan winced, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t honest with you either. I pretended to be unbothered by everything because I wanted you to like me. Most people don’t. Not at first anyway.”

“So, we’re both liars.”

“Yes, I guess we are.”

Barty cleared his throat and pulled out two cigarettes. He put both in his mouth and lit them, then held one out to Evan. A peace offering.

Evan didn’t hesitate to take it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Fuck, I needed that.”

“I know. You always smoke when you’re upset.”

“You’ve never seen me upset. Not really.”

Barty released an amused breath and shook his head. “You underestimate how obsessed I am with you.”

Evan eyed him warily as he drew in another haul. The sharp angles that he’d shown Barty since their break-up did catch him off-guard, but it was also a relief to discover that Evan wasn’t as perfect as he thought. They were desperately trying to soften razor-blade edges into something palatable.

“Meaning?”

“I pay attention when it’s you. More than I ever bothered to in the past. I know what your tics are, how to make you laugh until you nearly piss yourself, and when to shut up and let you think. I know your favourites and habits by heart. Even if we weren’t as honest as we should have been, I do know you, Rosie.”

Evan dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “How can you say that when you still use that stupid nickname that I hate?”

Barty grinned. “Because I like to make your eyes roll.”

“Oh piss off,” Evan retorted with a huff.

“And when you’re all huffy, I like that too.”

“Prove it then.”

Barty arched an eyebrow. “Prove what? That I can make your eyes roll? I’d love to.”

“Prove that you care about me,” Evan said, glaring as he stepped forward. “What do you think you know?”

Barty kicked out his legs to hook both boots behind Evan’s thighs. Slowly, he reeled him in. Once Evan stood between his knees, Barty draped his arms over his shoulders and toyed with the loose curls at the nape of his neck.

“What do I definitely know about you? So many things, where do I start? Let’s see. You always ask for Yorkshire tea, but choose chamomile when you make your own. You have one dimple when you smile and it takes a tremendous amount of self-control not to bite it when it pops out.”

Evan hallowed his cheeks to hide a smile. “You bite my cheek all the time.”

“I didn’t say that I possess tremendous amounts of self-control.”

“Annoying git. Keep going.”

“I know that you hate living with your parents, but you’re worried that they won’t let you come back if you leave,” Barty continued. “And that as much as you love your sister, you hate that she can see right through you.”

“Ouch.”

Barty shrugged. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You’re not…wrong.” Evan admitted, resting his chin on Barty’s arm. “We’re a mess, Barty. This is messy.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Evan glanced back at his parents’ row house and sighed. “Pandora will never approve of us, even if she and Reg decide to leave it, and neither will my parents.”

“I don’t give a shite what they think, Evan. The important question is, do you?” Barty asked, searching his face for doubt. “I’ll never be like Lily, or James. I’m not selfless, gentle, or kind. My mouth runs faster than my mind, I waste my money on tattoos and weed, I'm fucking obsessed with you, and I’m not convinced that I can actually die.”

A startled laugh burst from Evan’s lips and he quickly stuffed his face in Barty’s shoulder. “Shut up before I punch you.”

Barty leaned back and lifted Evan’s chin, his calloused fingers rough against smooth skin. “I will never be good enough for you, Rosie, but I think…I think I may love you.”

“Blegh. Never say that again,” Evan said, gagging exaggeratedly. “Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind and break your face.”

“You can sit on it, if you like?”

Evan grabbed Barty’s neck and smashed their mouths together. The kiss was nothing but spit, scraping teeth, and sparring tongues, just how Barty liked it. How they both needed it.

The words hung out there in the air and Evan didn’t refute the truth of them. They both knew what that meant. “Love” was a word that soured in their mouths. It evoked cutesy couple shite, awkwardly tender looks, and gentle touches.

Barty and Evan didn’t have that kind of “love.” Theirs was stupid dares, a dick piercing, neck biting, high on life — and probably weed — kind of love. It wasn’t pretty, but it was theirs.

#barty crouch jr x evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #barty crouch junior #barty jr #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #slytherin skittles #marauders era

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strangesickness · 12 days

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richie tozier's shoes are always getting holes and the soles are always fucked up because he walks on the sides of his feet and his toes.

he is a converse guy because i SAY he is

he is content to just put duct tape over the holes but maggie insists he get new shoes because like. the top half is literally coming off the bottom half

at first she's annoyed that he keeps breaking all his shoes but then one day they're like. at the grocery store or something and he's standing weird and she tells him to stop and he seems genuinely apologetic because its like his third pair of shoes that year but then he's back at it again an hour later and she realizes he just does not realize he's doing it AT ALL

anyways richie and his water damaged falling apart duct taped cons

he doesn't wear boots in winter because he doesn't like the way high ankles feel (i think he stops minding it when he's a bit older and gets really into work boots partially because they don't break and partially because he loves swinging his feet with them on cuz they're heavy and partially because they look super cool) so his shoes are just super muddy and they're always kind of damp and its HORRIBLE

he doodles on his shoes in class. he drew a dick on the big white part at the top of the toe area but maggie made him wash it off so now he just sticks to stick figures and hearts and peace signs and r+e (which always gets immediately scribbled out)

maggie doesn't really mind him doodling on his shoes as long as it isn't crude but she does make him clean the marker off to the best of his ability every month or so (which he doesn't mind because it just means he has more space to draw lol)

he has had like every single color of converse but if they're brighter colors they almost always end up brown or grey because he is always running around in mud lol

he buys fun patterned/colored duct tape to tape the holes in his shoes and then he gets really into making. tape pencil cases for a bit and makes them for all his friends lol

he's like. in college when heelys are invented but he is immediately obsessed with them but he's super scared of breaking them because they're pretty expensive so he only wears them for short distances LOL he starts bringing a change of shoes with him sometimes so he can change out of them when he's not like actually walking somewhere so he won't start standing weird and bending them LOL

#i look at richie and go “how should i project my autism onto you this time?"#posts afflicted with a strange sickness #it stephen king #richie tozier

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dilf-din · 1 year

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Silver Spring (Din Djarin x reader)

WC: 1200

Summary: I was listening to Fleetwood Mac today and had a lot of feelings. Some angst but mostly fluff

A strong wind whipped through the grassy hillside you found yourself perched atop of. This planet’s sun quickly sinking into the sea below you casting fiery rays of pink and orange on the water and sky alike. The sound of the tide coming in was drowned out by the salty wind rushing around the three of you. Grogu leaned against the basket you had brought from the crest carrying your dinner for tonight. His little chest rising and falling, his little hands rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You had been begging Din to park somewhere green for a few days so you and the child could stretch your legs. The last few weeks filled with countless hours waiting for his return. The two of you reading and rereading his little board books, tossing a ball against the wall, singing songs and dancing around the hull. You were so clearly full to the brim with cabin fever when he came back. He stood on the open ramp, arms crossed watching you twirl with Grogu wrapped tightly in your arms. You were singing him a nursery rhyme from your home planet while the little green child broke out in giggles. He was the first one to see his father, wiggling out of your grasp and tottering to him with his arms up. Din knelt to meet him, greeting him with a, “Hey little guy.” You bent over catching your breath and smoothing out your tunic from your little romp.

“Looks like you two were having fun,” Din remarked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“If you take us somewhere pretty, we can all hold hands and twirl like kids in a school yard,” you panted, “I don’t think there’s room for all three of us here though.”

He chuckled at your response, “We’ll see.”

“Please Din,” you pleaded, “If you leave me here again to come up with another dance routine I’m going to lose my blasted mind.”

Of course he obliged, saying that you were ahead on quarries and credits and it would be nice for the child to have a break. The underlying tone of his voice implied that it was just as much for you and you knew it.

You were always thankful for his good moods, when he allowed room for frivolity instead of his usual strictly business mindset. You stretched your legs out in front of you. The sea grass tickling you through your thin pants.

“I’m going to take him to bed if you want to try to get a fire going,” Din said standing and plucking Grogu’s sleep heavy body up and cradling him gently in his strong arms. “Figured we could stay out here a little while longer if you wanted.”

You smiled at the thought of it. He had never said it in as many words, but you knew he had grown to miss your company, especially when he was gone for long stretches of time.

“Will we be able to keep a fire going with all this wind?” you called to him.

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” he said over his shoulder, continuing towards the Crest. It was parked partially under the cover of some trees about a hundred meters from where you had all gathered to eat. You trailed behind him looking for some drier wood pieces littered amidst the yellowed, dancing blades.

When you were satisfied with the pile you had made with a little extra to hopefully last a few hours, you set to making a small pit. Using the flint you kept tucked into your belt, you had a nice fire going in no time. You were just sitting back to admire your work when you heard Din’s footfall approaching from behind. You drew your arms around yourself as you caught a chill from the wind, his gloved hand extended offering down your shawl for you.

“It gets cold here pretty quickly,” he said smoothly, kneeling down to sit as well. There was a rock jutting out of the ground that you had gotten somewhat comfy against, large enough for both of you to sit and enjoy the fire and hide from some of the biting wind.

“Thank you,” you replied wrapping yourself in the warm layers.

You sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes, watching twin moons rise higher in the onyx sky casting glittering reflections on the wild sea surrounding you. You had taken to plucking some of the longer grass and braiding it to keep your hands busy.

“Din,” you started. His helmet turned slightly towards you, “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said calmly.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He had been sitting still this whole time but you could feel his presence tense slightly. He took a long time before replying, “Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered,” you said, nothing detectable in your voice but innocent curiosity.

“Have you?” he asked after a beat.

You chuckled softly, “Yeah, once. Or at least I thought. I was young, we both were. We never would have lasted what with my plans to leave Tattooine. He was content to stay there, and I just always needed,” you paused, “more.”

Din hummed in contemplation. The silence wrapped around you both again. A low howl of the wind, the crackle of the fire, his steady breaths through the modulator. By now you had several braided strands and were working them into one big braided piece. You couldn’t tell, but he was watching you intently through his visor, the deft sureness of your fingers. He thought of how nicely they would fit in his own.

“I have,” he broke the silence again, “Been in love before.”

You hoped your face didn’t give away how shocked you were to hear that. Not that you couldn’t see someone falling in love with Din, you just always imagined he had been the same. Stoic, married to his work.

“We were also young. I met her on Nevarro when I first got in good with the guild. A local crime mob didn’t like the way I had busted a few of their guys, I went in to find a quarry one day and was met with her corpse instead,” he finished, his boot digging into the ground and loosening some of the soft earth. The nervousness of him sharing something so heavy was obvious in his body language.

“Oh Din, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

You allowed the silence to settle in again.

“Was she pretty?”

He waited awhile before giving a simple, “Yes, she was.”

A mix of emotions were battling out in your chest right now. Guilt for bringing it up, sadness for the grief he must carry, jealousy at his heart longing for someone else. You tried to stamp out those feelings any time they came up, but it happened so frequently now, it was getting harder to ignore.

“Like I said, we were young,” his voice startling you. “It was, we didn’t know what we were doing really. It was different.”

You paused. “Different than what?” you drew your gaze to his helmet glowing orange in the light of the fire.

The wind roared wildly around you and you almost thought that you imagined the next word that fell from his lips.

“This.”

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian drabble #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin drabble #din djarin fluff

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my-deer-history · 10 months

Text

On partiality

A few thoughts on why 'partiality' - even more than 'love' - is an important expression in Hamilton and Laurens’ correspondence.

Partiality is a word that denotes fondness, preference or bias for one person over others, often used in sentimental writing as a synonym for love (both familial and romantic). Jane Austen uses both forms in Pride and Prejudice (1813):

Miss Bennet’s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural [...] I had often seen him in love before. […] From that moment I observed my friend’s behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him.

Hamilton himself uses partiality in the context of love in a letter to Elizabeth Schuyler:

I believe in my soul you are an inchantress; but I have tried in vain, if not to break, at least, to weaken the charm—you maintain your empire in spite of all my efforts—and after every new one, I make to withdraw myself from my allegiance my partial heart still returns and clings to you with increased attachment.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, 5 October 1780

But partiality is not a direct synonym for love - the nuance comes from the fact that it is an antonym of impartiality.

An enlightened 18th century gentleman walked a fine line to balance rationality - which elevated reason, intellect and justice (especially in the spheres of public life, such as politics and business) - with sentimentality - which expected him to display profound emotion at appropriate (usually private) moments, as a testament to his morality.

Expressing love was certainly a virtuous thing - a man could profess love for his family, spouse, country, comrades, beliefs (religious or otherwise), and so on - but when it was labelled partiality, that love was made less gentlemanly, less virtuous and noble. Partiality masked flaws, reducing the ability to make objective choices, and hinted at a weakness of character in a gentleman who was supposed to be fair, just and disinterested in his dealings. Therefore, a man who called himself partial was admitting that he allowed his feelings to affect his integrity, and was showing preference one person over others in a way that was possibly unfair or unwarranted - an intimate personal favouritism.

We see it used in this form in works spanning the century. In Alexander Pope’s 1717 poem, Eloisa to Abelard, Eloisa begs for her “partial eyes” to be turned away from her lover, Abelard, and back to pure religious love.

Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. […] Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize, With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

In Charlotte Smith’s Emmeline (1778), partiality is contrasted with virtuous affection:

But for your charming friend my heart long retained its partiality; nor would it ever have felt for her that pure and disinterested friendship which is now in regard to her its only sentiment, had not the object of my present regret and anguish been thrown in my way.

In Evelina (1778), Fanny Burney shows the peril of partiality in masking flaws.

Yet perhaps I have rather reason to rejoice than to grieve, since this affair has shown me his real disposition, and removed that partiality which, covering his every imperfection, left only his virtues and good qualities exposed to view. [...] You flattered yourself that your partiality was the effect of esteem, founded upon a general love of merit, and a principle of justice; and your heart, which fell the sacrifice of your error, was totally gone ere you expected it was in danger.

We see this subtlety of meaning in Hamilton’s April 1779 letter to Laurens:

But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me.

In using feigned legalese (“pardon the fraud you have committed”), Hamilton puts himself in the role of a judge, but admits that he is not an impartial one - he is acting self-awarely according to his personal bias, and the love he expresses is tinged by it. Hamilton uses partiality again in his 8 January 1780 letter, after Laurens tries to promote Hamilton as a better candidate for the diplomatic mission to the court at Versailles:

Believe me my Dr Laurens I am not insensible of the first mark of your affection in recommending me to your friends for a certain commission. However your partiality may have led you to overrate my qualifications that very partiality must endear you to me.

In other words - your affection means that you’re not being objective about me, and that’s adorable. He’s teasing, acknowledging both his own shortcomings and Laurens’ inability or unwillingness to see them. Hamilton puts it in even plainer terms in his 30 June 1780 letter, in which he discusses the possibility of Laurens being paroled early. He contrasts both the “love” the military family feels for Laurens and the fair and objective rules of war with his own subjective affection:

I have talked to the General about your exchange; but the rigid rules of impartiality oppose our wishes. I am the only one in the family who think you can be exchanged with any propriety, on the score of your relation to the Commander in Chief. We all love you sincerely; but I have more of the infirmities of human nature, than the others, and suspect my self of being byassed by my partiality for you.

In sum, Hamilton’s written correspondence expresses love for Laurens in a variety of ways beyond the obvious - the word ‘love’ itself is indeed less telling than the other phrases he uses. In the context of the period, calling both himself and Laurens partial towards each other suggests that their affection was not just the pure and rational comradeship of fellow-soldiers, but a more personal, intimate and subjective sentiment.

#historical john laurens #historical alexander hamilton #john laurens #alexander hamilton #historical lams #18th century history #sentimental language #queer history

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beannary · 2 months

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GUH. BEANNARY. ARE YOU A TMA FAN???????????? 📼📼📼📼📼📼📼

YEAH I AM!!!!! I know I havent like talked about it at all recently but man its wild to me that people dont know how obsessed I am with tma lol the last fandom I was in (Tales of Arcadia) I wrote what was supposed to be a massive tma au fic and that I had planned extensively till the turtles consumed me and before that I was super into the tma fandom and drew a bunch of fanart

I dont have much of my tma fanart anymore since my last laptop like completely imploded and i couldnt salvage my art from before 2020 from it but heres some of the tma fanart that I still have!

(plus a bonus ghoulia from monster high)

I also had some tma ocs!

I cant remember their names but i had one oc who was an avatar of the web who I think had been partially paralyzed by some accident that led her to being an avatar of the web? I remember drawing her in a wheelchair and posting a picture of her in a tma discord server sometime in 2020 or 2019 but I dont have that picture on my laptop so she has been lost to time unless someone from that tma discord server happens to have that pic saved but i highly doubt that i would be that lucky

But I also had another who I still have a drawing of! Her name is valentina and shes an avatar of the buried who is a snowboarder and works as a search and rescue volunteer to help recover people after avalanches! (She doesnt you know actually help any of the people that she finds but you know she avatar of the buried them)

i havent listened to the magnus protocol yet so NO SPOILERS I'm waiting till spring break when i have more mental energy for it but i do plan to listen to it and i am very excited for it

#bean babbles #answered asks #anonymous asks #my art #you know i dont actually hate a lot of this art #i do really like how i shaded a lot of them #it makes me want to like make more fully colored turtle pieces of art #i do miss how much time i had to like spend on coloring and shading during covid though #its been really hard for me to adapt my shading style to the turtle faces as you can see by how i dont color my turtle art very much #maybe thatll change though since this art is making me very like motivated to shade stuff more

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cantwritethetword · 2 months

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Shut up, Merlin!

Fic Descript: Arthur learns the hard way that Merlin is very talented in the art of revenge after the king gets stuck wrapped in the drapes of his bed.

~A/N - HEY ANON I TOLD YOU I HAD A MERLIN FIC IN THE WORKS !!!

I thought of this concept like AAAAAAGES ago and thought it was super funny and perfect for our little dynamic duo.

I have been absolutely vibing while on medication for my ADHD it's so nice to just be able to ✨start things✨ ?? and then, leave those things and ✨return later ✨?? and not have to drag myself to the finish line ?? crazy

- Enoy! ~

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Merlin and Arthur would die for each other.

There was no question about it. And they had come pretty close to it on multiple occasions. Whether it be facing trolls, witches, wildren, or mortal humans, both would take a sword to the heart for the other if the need arose.

If no danger was in sight, however, they would gladly throw each other under (the medieval equivalent of) the bus.

The pair had been out hunting, and a rather unsuccessful hunt at that. Arthur was in piss-poor form, which meant Merlin took every opportunity to run his mouth (and annoy the king further). They were making their way back to the castle, Arthur leading the way and Merlin trotting along behind.

"-do you remember when you missed that deer that was riiight in front of you?" Merlin asked, his face would suggest innocence but his tone proved he was trying to piss Arthur off.

"Shut up Merlin." Arthur replied flatly.

"And what about that time you were aiming for that huge bird?" Merlin continued. "But it flew off before you even had the chance to line up your bow?"

Arthur glared directly forwards, to no-one in particular. "Shut up, Merlin."

The men turned their horses off the beaten path and onto a lesser known shortcut through the thick forest back to Camelot.

Partially to clear the path, and partially to vent his frustration, Arthur swung his sword in front of him to clear some of the vines blocking their way. Perhaps the thickness of the foliage would deter Merlin from any more snide comments, and make him focus more on directing his horse through the areas too thick for Arthur to break.

Surprise surprise, Merlin continued as before. "And the rabbit- oh the knights are never going to let you forget that you lost a sword fight to an unarmed bunny-".

"Shut up Merlin!" Arthur groaned, wiping his face with his hands to try and wipe Merlin's voice from his brain.

"But we haven't even got to the-"

Merlin's taunt was interrupted by a sudden quiet, one that Arthur whispered silent praise to. "Have you finally taken my advice?"

When his servant didn't reply, Arthur slowed his horse. The now unnerving silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and at the faint rustle of vegetation Arthur whipped his head round and drew his sword - prepared to leap from his horse and engage with whatever potential threat may have overpowered his friend.

But the moment his eyes caught sight of what made the rustle, Arthur burst into laughter.

Merlin hung a few metres behind his dismounted horse, completely tangled in the green ropes. The tautness of the plant rendered him almost immobile, a fact that was well demonstrated by his fruitless wriggling.

"Now," Arthur said with a grin, his previous sour mood turned completely upside down. "What was that you were saying about the knights not letting us forget things? Because I think they'd love to hear about this."

Merlin's glare shot daggers in Arthur's direction. "Hah hah." He said sarcastically. "Now help me down you ass."

Climbing off his horse, Arthur threw his sword into the dirt and sat on a nearby fallen tree. His grin eating more shit than a dung beetle.

Merlin scoffed. "Really? You're just going to sit there."

Arthur shrugged. "I've worked hard enough on this hunt, I think I deserve to have a bit of entertainment."

Merlin rolled his eyes and writhed further, pulling at the greenery with all his might before giving up and letting his body go limp.

"You're really not going to get me out of this?" He asked sincerely, a hint of annoyance still hiding at the back of his throat.

"You're a big boy Merlin." Arthur grinned cockily, stifling a chuckle. "You can do it."

With another roll of his eyes, Merlin continued to wrestle against the vines. But it seemed no matter which way he pulled, somehow he kept tightening the bounds that kept him suspended a few metres above the floor. He couldn't even use his magic with Arthur watching him this closely.

"You know Merlin, I think if you'd just relax you would have been free by now." Arthur continued.

Merlin made a few disgruntled noises before continuing to wriggle in the plants.

After a few minutes, Arthur stretched his arms dramatically. "I could take a nap by the time you've finished."

"Do it then." Merlin muttered under his breath. "Lazy ass."

Ignoring Merlin's comment, Arthur folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

The warlock scoffed, before taking his opportunity to mutter a quick spell and free himself from the godforsaken foliage.

Unfortunately, he freed himself a little too eagerly, and left his body weight with nothing to support it. He toppled from the web of vines directly into a substantially deep patch of mud underneath him.

Arthur cackled at the sight, clapping his hands once before standing up and mounting his horse again. "Come on then."

Merlin grunted, dragging his feet through the ankle-deep sludge to where his horse was patiently waiting.

"I feel sorry for your saddle." Arthur grinned behind him. "Having all that dirt smeared over it."

Merlin shot him a glare. "And I feel sorry for yours, having your arse squashing it."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur quipped back a retort. "At least I'm not the one who has to clean it."

"I doubt you'd know where to start."

Early the next morning, before even the sun was up, Merlin snuck into the royal chambers. Not an unfamiliar process by this point, though usually it had far less exciting intent. This was not about cleaning, or polishing, or even returning stolen goods.

This was about revenge.

Focusing his attention on the sleeping king, Merlin swiped his eyes to the drapes of the bed at the top two corners, chanting an incantation. The fabric wound and tied itself around Arthur's wrists - perfectly balanced between holding firm without cutting off his blood flow. Then came the bedsheets themselves, winding around the bottom bedposts and around Arthur's legs with a similar spell.

Smirking to himself, Merlin slinked away to the furthest point of the room. Giving himself a mindless task of busywork to wait for Arthur to waken.

After what felt like hours, there was movement. At first, the sounds of a half-sleeping grunt and a rough attempt at turning himself over came from Arthur's bed. Then, a slightly bewildered collection of mumbles and tugs to the material. Before finally,

"WHAT THE-?" Arthur bellowed, thrashing in the binds. "MERLIN!"

Deciding to take this moment to make himself known, Merlin popped his head from around the corner. "Morning sunshine."

"Merlin." Arthur breathed an exasperated sigh of relief, before continuing his brash tone. "Get me out of here!"

Merlin smirked at his friend. "Oh but I've got a long day of work ahead, I feel I deserve some entertainment."

Arthur glared at him. "Merlin. Get. Me. Out."

Just to rub the situation in, Merlin sat on the lower half of the bed (where Arthur couldn't reach) with his legs crossed, letting his chin fall on his hands - eager to watch the show.

Realising his manservant was going to be absolutely no help, Arthur began thrashing again, tugging at the drapes of his bedframe with little success.

"You know," Merlin suggested. "If you'd just relax, maybe you'd get out."

"I can't relax!" Arthur cried indignantly. "I am stuck, and hungry - I haven't even had breakfast! I'm wasting away-"

"Oh you're fine." Merlin laughed, poking Arthur's exposed side.

Arthur shrieked and recoiled (as best as the bedding would allow), internally cursing his decision to sleep without a shirt on. He locked eyes with his manservant, watching the cogs tick momentarily in Merlin's brain.

"Oh~?" Merlin grinned. "What's this?"

"Merlin I swear to you..." Arthur threatened, trying his best to keep his composure. "I will throw you in the stocks if you come any closer."

Merlin shrugged. "You've done worse." And crawled closer.

"I'll have you executed!" Arthur's voice was beginning to break with nerves.

Merlin laughed briefly. "You wouldn't survive without me."

Pulling himself together, Arthur called upon his most serious, kingly, threatening tone. "I'll ban you from the tavern!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, before clambering behind his friend - reveling in the freedom he had to really draw out the anticipation.

"Guahards!" Arthur shrieked, a bark of laughter breaking up his command as he twisted as far away from Merlin as he could. "Help!"

"Oh they can't hear you." Merlin grinned, noting the way Arthur almost seemed to relax at that statement. Perhaps the king needed this more than he did.

Either way, Arthur was royally screwed.

Merlin's spindly fingers began climbing up Arthur's sides, making the king jolt and yelp with every touch. Even when all he could see was Arthur's reddening ears, Merlin knew Arthur's face was scrunched as tightly as possible - avoiding even the smallest semblance of a smile.

Surprisingly, as Merlin's hands climbed higher, Arthur's breathing relaxed. The tension in his muscles remained, not allowing himself the risk of letting out so much as a snicker, but clearly his ribs and armpits weren't where Merlin should be focusing.

Following the cues of his victim friend, Merlin let his hands drag down over the curves of Arthur's love handles. Instantly, the king's breathing hitched - bingo.

Continuing the previously-built anticipation, Merlin slowly scraped his blunt fingernails against Arthur's skin, pulling his digits from splayed out to centered on the king's sides. Arthur was practically vibrating at this point with the pure effort of keeping his reactions at bay. Desperately gripping at the tough-guy facade with a pained grimace on his face, he pulled at the drapes his limbs were caught in at violent, random intervals.

"You're allowed to smile, you know." Merlin teased right in his friend's ear, adding a little more pressure to transition into light poking.

Arthur yelped in reaction, before grunting - as if to remind Merlin that Arthur was the King of Camelot, far too tough for something as childish as being ticklish.

Unfortunately, he had a little shit of a man-servant. And someone who knew exactly what to do to get him to crack a smile.

"Huh, maybe His Majesty the King isn't ticklish after all..." Merlin proclaimed, watching Arthur's cheek twitch into a stifled (but amused) grin, before clawing his hands against Arthur's sides.

Arthur's body seized, pulling against the fabric holding him in place so tightly Merlin thought the bedframe might snap, before slumping into Merlin's tickly grasp.

And the sweetest, most childish giggles Merlin had ever heard bubbled out of Arthur's mouth.

"Meh-meh-meherlihin!" Arthur gasped between bouts of soft laughter. "Wahahait!"

"Oh?" Merlin raised an eyebrow (not that Arthur could see). "Are you ticklish, Arthur?"

Arthur ducked his head to his shoulder. "Shuhuhut up Meherlin!"

It was at this moment, Merlin realised that while Arthur was occasionally pulling on the binds, it didn't seem intentional. Arthur only seemed to really pull with one hand, and not even to protect himself.

It seemed he was only focused on covering his (now bright red) face... Interesting.

"What's the matter?" Merlin beamed, peeking his head around next to Arthur's. "It can't tickle that badly."

"Meherlin!" Arthur's eyes widened with a flustered laugh, before flicking his head in the other direction. "Shuhuht uhuhup!"

Merlin laughed. "You're one to talk about shutting up Mr Giggles."

Arthur's cheeks burned even brighter - the poor guy looked more flustered than Merlin had ever seen him before. At this point Merlin was having more fun teasing the king than actually tickling him.

Though by this point, Arthur was almost getting used to the clawing at his love handles, so Merlin decided to swap techniques and start squeezing at Arthur's hip bones.

Turns out, Arthur has the perfect layering of fat and muscle for Merlin to drill his fingers all the way into the king's hips without pain - just a hell of a lot of tickling.

Arthur screeched, and though his breathing became more frantic and his struggling became more erratic, the bubbly giggles from before sounded just as carefree (just a little less gentle).

"Meher- nohohoho- meherlin wahahait!" Arthur cackled, his face in a permanent beam.

"Well isn't this just adorable." Merlin teased, pitter-pattering his fingers over Arthur's stomach before returning to the king's hips. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you this happy."

"Shuhuhut uhup meheherlin!"

Merlin grinned at his friend, finally deciding to show mercy. Poor Arthur was nearing exhaustion, and he still had a full day of training with the knights ahead of him.

With a swift, inconspicuous mutter, Merlin loosened the drapes holding Arthur hostage. It took the king a few moments to finally realised he could free himself, and he escaped with a little less hurry than Merlin expected.

But even after Arthur's breathing returned to normal, and the flush had almost faded from his face, Arthur still had a massive grin splitting his cheeks and his arms folded over his eyes.

Merlin stood off the bed and let his friend lie there for a few moments, waiting for the usual threat or sarcastic quip that followed their usual banter sessions.

"Will that be all, my lord?" Merlin grinned, moving towards the door (and hoping to provoke some sign of life out of the guy.)

Arthur just giggled again. "Shuhut up Merlin."

#crow's tickle fic #merlin tickle fic #lmao I wrote half of this in the ER on a monday night #life be crazy but tkls persist #also I'm trialing out adding descriptions to fics so let me know what you think!

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