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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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Read It and Weep- Part 1

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.

Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones

A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!

I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.

The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.

There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy.

A brotherhood.

My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen.

My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time.

Pun so intended.

The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing.

There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.

Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit.

But football?

I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point.

Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.

Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?

It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up.

Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.

There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.

I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait.

Why is everyone cheering?

What just happened?

Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier.

The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance.

They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time.

I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force.

Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard.

I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground.

My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear.

“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.

His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them.

I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference.

–

From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver.

It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through.

But I totally did get butterflies.

But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.

Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story.

“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug.

“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.”

I’m sorry?

Dedicated?

What?

All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.

“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one.

Me.

“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath.

“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.

“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.

“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”

“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.

“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.

“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful.

“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here.

But he did.

That matters for something, right?

Right?

“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.

“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am.

It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of.

Right?

“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.

“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.

“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has.

All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.

“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #outerbanks series

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boinin · 10 months

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Kaiser's characterisation and the flashback's position in the timeline

Chapter 243's official English release is available, and it's the most insight we've had into Kaiser (and Ness's dedication to him) since they've been introduced. So forgive my rambling.

My initial impression of Kaiser in this chapter was that Rin has a rival for the mantle of edgiest teenager. Did that little diatribe cut his tongue on its way out?

More seriously, have a lengthy analysis of both the timeline and Kaiser's character under the cut, featuring references to Christianity. Years of Catholic upbringing are finally paying off /s

Timeline

I always get hung up on event dates when it comes to Blue Lock (cos I write post-canon stuff and like to keep the lore consistent). It seems like the Bastard Munich try-outs took place not that long before the Neo Egoist League started—maybe as little as a year beforehand?

I believe the flashback takes place around April 2018, or the year before at the earliest. Here's my reasoning.

The panels of the outdoors in chapters 242 and 243 give spring vibes. More tellingly, Kaiser and Ness don't seem all that much younger than they do in the NEL. The main indicator of time elapsing between the flashback and the present manga setting is the addition of Kaiser's crown and thorns.

There's no legislation underpinning the legal status of tattooing in Germany (same as Ireland). But the industry tends to self regulate in the absence of law; another source mentioned that in Germany, people aged 16 or 17 may receive a tattoo only with the consent and/or presence of their legal guardian.

Did Kaiser have anyone in his life willing to accompany him to get a neck tattoo before he turned 18? My hunch is not, based on what he's hinted at in this chapter. So maybe he is 18 in this flashback... or maybe he got a back-alley tattooist to do the rose for him while underage. 🤷‍♀️

In any case, he was likely 18 by the time he got the sleeve done, putting him at either 18 or 19 during the Neo Egoist League. I like @echari3's theory that he's a Christmas baby for reasons I'm about to touch on; that would put him at 19 as of 25 December 2018. He can't be any older; otherwise, he'd be playing in the regular men's league, not at U20 level.

Ness is outwardly quite impressionable and childlike, so he strikes me as being younger than Kaiser or even Isagi—maybe 17 during the NEL? But who knows.

Strange trinity: Kaiser's characterisation

Anyway, back to Kaiser. This is something echari3 has already talked about, as have others, but this chapter further supports the allegories around how Kaiser is perceived (or portrayed) as a Christ-like figure.

The way he offers his hand to Ness—someone in despair, who lacks camaraderie and vision—gives strong Jesus vibes. At least visually; in terms of dialogue, Kaiser speaks like a kid who's decided swearing every other sentence makes him sound tough. But I digress.

Furthermore, Kaiser is capable of "miracles"... at least in a footballing sense. The way this scruffy kid drives a reversal of fortune in this game defies expectations.

His strong kicks and positioning sense are awe-inspiring to Ness, who looks at Kaiser like he's his personal saviour by the end of the match. Because he is. Through Kaiser's intervention, Ness is able to leave his cruel family home and pursue "magic" as a professional footballer. He becomes his first follower.

Kaiser goes on to get thorns tattooed around his arm, as well as a crown on his hand. A crown made of thorns is heavily associated with Jesus Christ (another nod to echari3, who made this connection in her post 💙).

If I had more time to re-read the NEL volumes, there's further similarities between Christ and Kaiser that I'd like to delve into. For one thing, as of the Ubers match, Kaiser is close to being persecuted by Isagi and his teammates, who seek to establish their own dominance over Bastard Munchen. His role as the "king" is being questioned, as Christ's claim to be the Son of God was. It'll be interesting to see how that pans out. Will Kaiser punish the non-believers... or will he be betrayed? Will he appear to die... only to be resurrected at a future date? *cough* the U20 World Cup

Anyway, that's a post for another time. The Christian symbolism doesn't end here though; it just takes a swerve in later panels.

Anyone familiar with the Bible will be aware Kaiser is overtly connected with that mythos: he is named after Michael, a high-ranked archangel. The name itself can be interpreted to mean “who is like God?” (a rhetorical question, since there are none like God according to scripture), or alternatively “gift from God.”

The Biblical angel has many roles and associations, but he is primarily regarded as a warrior, acting as the leader of Heaven's army. Furthermore, Wikipedia references a source which states: "He is viewed as the angelic model for the virtues of the "spiritual warrior", his conflict with evil taken as "the battle within"".

This all tracks in respect of Kaiser's characterisation. He is a strong, tall player with incredible strength, endurance and accuracy. He has a weapon (Kaiser Impact) and appears both omniscient (due to MV) and omnipresent (due to his good playmaking and positioning sense) at the start of the NEL. He's exceptional in every sense. He also has some... issues, psychologically. There's definitely a struggle going on under that ridiculous mullet.

But Kaiser's dialogue in the blue rose panel is interesting. He states that the rose symbolises "making the impossible possible in a rebellion against God". This wording brings to mind another Biblical figure: also an angel, but, er... on the opposite side.

This verbal allusion to Satan tracks with Kaiser's rather villainous aspiration to cause his rivals despair. It fits well, being that the Devil is said to reside in Hell, a place that is almost always depicted as being deep underground.

In conclusion, Kaiser's characterisation is multifaceted. He has the ability to inspire and lead others; he is capable of miracles; he is comparable to a god among U20 league footballers; he is waging a war on behalf of Bastard Munchen against his Japanese teammates; and he desires to send all his rivals to metaphorical hell. God, Angel and Devil, all in one. He's his own strange Trinity.

Without further information about his backstory and the reason for his desire to overcome "God", it's hard to draw conclusions. But he's certainly a fascinating little jerk.

I have some theories on what Kaiser's life looked like before meeting Ness, but that warrants its own post another time.

#blue lock #blue lock manga #blue lock manga spoilers #blue lock spoilers #bllk chp 242 #alexis ness #michael kaiser #kainess #mine #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis #boinin talks bllk #long post #tw christianity

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hufflesight · 3 years

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One Funeral - kaz x fem!inferni!reader

Description: A mission goes wrong, and the reader (the joint leader of the Dregs with Kaz) is forced into a situation of her nightmares.

( Came up with the idea for this while reading @ilovemarvelanne1's "I will always choose you", so I thought I'd credit it :) )

(Why did no one warn me about how emotionally painful it is to write angstttt)

Warnings: Swearing, death, blood

Words: 2,048

Secrets follow us

Visions, we can't forget

The massive estate loomed in front of the 7 crows. They stood behind it's wrought-iron gate, waiting for Wylan and Jesper to break the gate lock. They could climb it, but last night was taken up by hushed discussions between Y/n and Kaz, with the final conclusion that they'd likely get caught, and so having the gate open would be vital. they hadn't told the others; common sense predicted that telling the rest of the crows they were going to be actively shot at wouldn't produce good results.

Y/n was used to hiding things. Secrets had overwhelmed her life the minute she'd accepted Kaz's offer. Being the joint leader of the crows meant sacrificing honesty for their safety. But it would always be worth it.

Finally, several minutes full of hushed worry and nervous glances later, with Wylan's miniscule blasts and Jesper's carefully applied Fabrikator abilities, the lock snapped, giving them access to the front grounds. Inej locked eyes with Y/n, who nodded. The Wraith quickly darted away, apart from the rest. She needed to deal with the guards before they spotted the group. Their patrol followed a similar pattern each day, but was not nearly consistent enough for the crows to slip past their notice.

It'd taken a while for Y/n to really understand all of the variables that came into play for a plan. Balancing everyone's skills, while keeping in mind their weaknesses. The number of scrapped plans, broken deals, and sacrifices she'd seen and dealt with had given her a respect for Kaz she'd never had. And as they spent more time together, that respect bloomed into something larger. Something they couldn't deny, no matter how dangerous and risky it was.

That was why Y/n glanced at Kaz one last time before they split to enter the mansion from both sides. Not because she wasn't sure in herself: this was her 11th mission as Kaz's partner, by now she'd gained confidence in her hours of planning. No, she glanced at him because every time they started a job, she knew it could be the last time they saw one another.

They may not be able to physically touch, but that didn't constrain their love for one another. They'd merely adapted, redefining affection. By now Y/n knew that Kaz's slight smile was the equivalent of a hand on her arm, and it had the same calming effect.

Kaz tapped his cane twice, face clearing into his regular look of determination, and the 6 split up, ready to infiltrate the house.

But we don't feel regret

The animal inside got a hold of us

For now, her group consisted of her and Jesper. Inej, once she ensured their safety from the guards, would join them. They were silent force, Jesper's guns hidden through silencers, Inej creeping in her usual silent matter, and Y/n's deadly precise flames. Kaz had the brute force, with Matthias, Wylan, and Nina. The were the ones doing the actual stealing (nothing could match Kaz's lockpicking skills).

Y/n's fire lit the way through the dark grounds. They'd never actually set foot here; they were relying entirely on second-hand information, which was dangerous. If their source was to be believed, there should be a less guarded back door hidden behind the upcoming hedges.

When the door did emerge into their periphery, she let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Jesper, you ready?" Y/n asked quietly. The ball of flames which had been lighting their way subtly expanded in her hands.

"Hell yeah." Jesper said, flipping his guns around in his hands and grinning.

"Alright, no going back in 3... 2... 1!" Fire shot directly up from her hand, revealing their location to Inej. If she'd succeeded, they shouldn't have to worry about anyone else seeing it, apart from Kaz and the rest.

That... wasn't exactly what happened. Inej came on time, but she wasn't alone. There was another woman with her, holding a knife to the Wraith's throat.

Jesper raised his pistol, but Y/n stopped him with a wave of her hand. It'd been a while since she'd been able to really unleash her power.

"Go away from here n-now, or I'll... I'll kill her!" The woman clearly wasn't sure exactly what to do in this situation, and Y/n almost felt bad for her.

Almost. If there was one thing she'd learned from her years in Ketterdam, it was that no one was exactly what they seemed.

"Yeah... you're gonna regret that sentence."

Jesper snorted as the woman began to cower. Inej shifted as the knife was accidently drawn closer to her flesh.

But we don't feel a thing

Everything's twisted

Making sure she didn't set the actual woman (and Inej) on fire, Y/n set the grass around their feet aflame.

"Let go of my friend, and we won't have to see how fast that spreads."

"You're a-"

"A grisha, yes. Now, do you want to see how this plays out, or run?"

The woman didn't answer, but she let go of Inej and jumped over the flames, making her choice pretty clear.

Y/n stopped the flames before Inej fell.

"Are you okay?" She asked, helping the other girl up.

"Yes, I am."

"Alright, we need to go in. Jesper, do the honors?"

He put his guns back in their holsters, and with a dramatic flourish, kicked down the door.

The previous setback was nothing compared to what they saw when the door fell inwards.

We'll chase 'em down to face to face

Prey on the powerful

Masters of the game

We run with the wolves in the shadows

A man stood in the doorway. Not a guard: his uniform didn't match the woman from outside. As her eyes drifted to the man's face, realization hit Y/n as to who this man was, and she recoiled.

It had taken Kaz months to tell her the story of when he had come to Ketterdam. It had been the most vulnerable she'd ever seen him, on the bed, a mere foot away from her as he told the abhorrent story of Joride... and Pekka Rollins. The man who now stood in front of them.

But that wasn't even the worst part. Because behind Rollins was the rest of the crows. Matthias and Wylan restrained, Nina with chains holing her hands far apart. And Kaz held by three men as he struggled to get out of their grip.

Y/n did the only thing she could think of: setting the air in front of them alight. But she knew it was hopeless even before Rollins spoke.

"You could run. You could get away right now. But the they would suffer." A yelp came from beyond the flames, unmistakably Wylan's. Jesper jolted, pulling his gun out. "Now, now, Zemeni, put your gun away. Don't want any more damage to your precious boyfriend, do we?"

Jesper closed his eyes, slowly returning his gun to his side.

"There we go. Now, Y/n, why don't you douse out the flames?" The silent threat was there, but Rollins still felt the need to say it. "I've heard some rumors... that you and Brekker are closer than mere partners. Imagine my elation at finally finding a weakness in the Bastard of the Barrel." Y/n braced herself, expecting the low grunt from Kaz that followed. Slowly, she put out the fire, willingly putting her arms behind her back as she was chained just as Nina was. Jesper and Inej followed her lead, until they were all restrained.

In our blood, in our blood, no escape

There's no resisting

The 7 crows were dragged to another room. Inej, Matthias, Wylan, Jesper, and Nina were shoved harshly against the back wall, as Y/n and Kaz were thrust down into wooden chairs, their arms tied down.

Rollins didn't speak until no one could move their arms more than an inch. "I know I said you were Brekker's weakness, and yet, something tells me that you, Y/n, might be more likely to reveal information with a little... motivation."

The cocking of a gun sounded from somewhere in the room, and it was handed to Rollins, who held it a mere inch away from Kaz's temple. "Why don't you tell me everything you can about the Dregs. Your sources, your locations, your strengths," His voice hardened, joy evident in his tone. "Your weaknesses. Or Brekker dies."

Her heart dropped. Mind racing back to the night she'd accepted Kaz's offer. The night she'd officially become a leader of the Dregs.

"Y/n." Kaz's voice had stopped her as she'd been reaching for the doorknob.

"Yes?" She'd asked, hoping whatever he was about to say wasn't going to reveal this whole thing was fake, that she'd been fooled into some ruse.

"There's a reason I've never had someone else lead with me. Anyone who finds out about you will assume you're a weakness. They'll try to use you against me."

Y/n had turned around to face him, not sure where this conversation was going.

"If you want this, you need to promise me. Promise me that no matter the situation, no matter if you hate me-" He'd paused, before adding on slightly quieter, "Or care about me." His voice had risen again, sounding more sure of himself. "You won't give into any intimidation techniques they throw at you."

She'd opened her mouth, a nightmarish situation ready to emerge, one she didn't want to imagine.

"Any intimidation technique. Promise me." She'd nodded, sealing her promise and her new position. But her dreams that night had been bloody, deadly, filled with one choice, one predicament.

The exact one she was in now.

It's in our blood, in our blood, in our veins

Can't outrun, no we can't get away

"Please.. don't please, I'm not going to tell you-"

The man jabbed the gun further against Kaz's temple. "Yes you are, or he dies."

Her mind was racing. She glanced over at the others, specifically at Jesper. He wasn't restrained the way she and Nina were, and from the look of concentration on his face, he was trying his best to break out of his restraints using the grisha powers Rollins didn't know about. But he looked at her, an apologetic expression all over his face, the message clear. He wouldn't be able to get out before she had to make this call.

It was her decision. Her choice. Kaz, or the Dregs.

This is the world we made

"Kaz. I- I fucking love you. But-"

"But we made an agreement. A promise. Follow it, Y/n. The reason I care for you is because of the way you've always cared for them." Kaz gestured at the rest of the crows with his head. "So please, remember them. Their lives are worth more than whatever I could give you. Please. Save them, not me. I love you too Y/n, just make the right call."

Her heartbeat slowed, each beat ringing through her ears. The silence stretched through the room.

Her voice was almost steady as she turned to Rollins. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

Rollins's voice had the same careful cadence as earlier, but the joy was gone, a hint of fear in its place as he spoke. "Are you sure about that?"

Y/n met eyes with Kaz, the man she loved. He nodded.

"No mourners." His voice cracked, the only indication to the fear coursing through his veins.

"No funerals." She replied, the familiar words tearing out of her throat. "I'm sure."

This is the world we made

The gunshot rang loud through the room. She flinched.

This is the world we made

Blood splattered against Y/n's face, and she closed her eyes.

This is the world we made

She wished she'd never have to open them again.

The man she loved was gone because of her.

She'd never be able to ask if she did the right thing.

She'd never be able talk to him again.

No more planning in the moonlight.

No more falling asleep in adjacent beds.

No more Kaz Brekker.

"I love you."

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz x reader #crows x reader #soc fanfic #six of crows #fanfiction #x reader #writing #angst

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touyota · 4 years

Text

Catfish

☁ Summary: Tomura is hopeless when it comes to relationships, and soon that’s all subject to change. With the power of Tinder, Touya and one oblivious chick on his side, who knows what can happen.

A/N: omgggg, i’ve lurked on my priv for the past year and finally decided to stop being a narc and post something. i haven’t written in forever and it shows lmao, but uh yeah pls give me feedback if you’d like. (also idk if this has been. done before, but sorryyy if it has)

☁ Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader

☁ Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, manipulation, dumbfication (if you squint), slapping, yandere, catfishing

"Fuck I'm horny."

Tomura groaned into his pillow, conflicted with whether he should be agitated or turned on. Due to his third nap of the day being interrupted by the excessive lewd noises coming from the shared living room. Tomura's roommate, Touya, had no real understanding of boundaries and was often more bothersome than helpful. Still, without his portion of the rent, he'd be on the streets struggling to find an apartment within his meager budget.

"Keep fucking me, Touya-san!" The plea echoed through the thin walls of the shoddy apartment. At least someone was getting laid. The last time Tomura had gotten lucky was at an impromptu Halloween party thrown by Touya at the apartment.

He went as Jason Vorhees using a dingy hockey mask he found in Touya's closet. The poor girl in question, who came dressed as an angel, was drunk out of her mind. She clung to Tomura's scrawny body incoherently, slurring about "How hot it would be to fuck a murderer." The fling hadn't lasted long before the young lady in question toppled over the side of his bed and hurled her entire cup of jungle juice onto the floor. Poor Tomura had to spend his night nursing her head over the toilet. Making a mental note to tell Touya that he couldn't invite any freshmen to their parties ever again.

Tomura ended up seeing her again in passing on campus, giving a small smile as she walked by. Only to be met with an eye roll as she turned to walk in the opposite direction. Fucking bitch... Other than that, Tomura had found himself too busy writing code, playing video games, and browsing Reddit to dedicate any time to dating. The polar opposite of his roomie Touya-san, a communications major whose schedule consisted of dating? If you considered fucking the same chick for a week before ghosting her dating, sleeping, and eating and drinking Tomura out of a house and home.

"You ready for my load? You're my little cum dump, right? Say you're my cum du-"

Speaking of fucking, Tomura's hard-on was starting to hurt, and what better way to relieve himself than to beat off to the action in the adjacent room.

He started to palm himself over his sweats, erection already beginning to poke through. Figuring that he's teased himself enough, he lowered his boxers, allowing his cock to slap against his stomach, throbbing and angry. He slowly stroked himself, gathering the pre-cum spouting from the tip, and used it to lube the rest of his cock.

"Pleaseee fuck! I'm your little cum dump! I swear Touya!"

Tomura started to stroke his cock faster, leaving a squelching noise with each stroke. He was barely managing to suppress his moans. Knowing how Touya wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he got caught fucking his hand to the sounds of their subtle lovemaking.

"Fuckfuckfuck... I'm cumming!" Touya grunted, giving out after his final stroke.

Tomura followed suit, flicking his wrist with each stroke. As his orgasm finally took hold of him, biting into his shirt to stifle his moan as he came all over his fist.

"Are you fucking serious, Touya?"

"What?"

"I didn't get to cum?"

"Um… I'm sure you can take care of that when you get home."

"You're such a piece of sh-"

Tomura tuned out the rest of his roommate's performance. Really hoping he'd wrap it up cause he really needed to take a piss and couldn't make it to the bathroom without passing through the living room.

After hearing a respectable amount of silence, he figured it was safe to leave the room. Of course, he was wrong; he was met with a staredown between Touya and a petite blonde woman.

"I'm sure your roommate Tenko wouldn't leave a lady hanging like that."

"It's Tomura," he muttered.

"Same fucking thing, my point still stands," The mystery woman huffed. There was a pregnant pause before Touya doubled over in laughter, clutching his chest.

"You think this cuck knows how to take care of a lady? Yeah, it's time to go, Tara."

"It's Toga, you shit stai-"her statement was abruptly interrupted, the door slamming in her face. Touya's back slid down against the door as he sat facing Tomura.

"Chicks? Am I right?" Touya sighed, peering over at Tomura, who had just left the bathroom. "Speaking of chicks, when's the last time you had sex, Shiggy?"

"It's been... a while." Tomura shrugged, not wanting to indulge his roommate with the details of his sex life.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Let's make you a Tinder." Touya proudly announced, excited at the prospect of playing matchmaker for his roommate. Tomura reluctantly gave in, knowing once Touya was set on something, it was bound to happen one way or another.

Two blunts later, Tomura and Touya were strewn over the couch, mulling over his profile's final details. It consisted of three pics, one from the Halloween party, another from their most recent function. The last pic is a selfie of him in a black hoodie with sunglasses on. The icing on top is the bio that unironically stated, "Freak in the sheets, gamer in the streets."

"You're gonna be a real pussy magnet shiggy. Just wait, you'll have to fight the chicks off with a stick after they see this." Touya chuckled as he took another puff of the blunt.

"Go to hell and stop hogging; you didn't put shit in on this anyways," Tomura muttered as he snatched the blunt away to take a pull. Maybe he would find some success, he entertained the concept of having a consistent fuck buddy, but sometimes he was lonely and just wanted someone to lay up with. He wanted to be optimistic about something for once, taking his final pull and ashing the blunt out. The smoky haze and intoxicating scent lulling him to sleep.

Fuck optimism, Tomura thought. It had been three days with zero matches or messages, and he was starting to think there had to be a glitch in the system. The only time he had seen a match is when he accidentally swiped on Midnight's profile, a famous Only fans content creator who specialized in BDSM. The same Midnight that he happened to be a top donor for and occasionally bought panties from, but that's beside the point. The profile was poorly made with blurry, uncropped pics taken straight from her social media profiles. The lack of detail and legitimacy was apparent. Tomura felt terrible for the poor soul who probably fell for it, but it made him think…

Why not see how different the response would be if he ran a profile under someone else's guise. Someone more attractive, someone more affluent, and someone more famous. This was simply a social experiment; no harm would come from it of course. He would simply ghost anyone who wanted to meet, keeping all interactions virtual. Now who could he possibly pretend to be. without getting caught. Tomura's eyes finally settled on an Axe ad playing on tv featuring male model Keigo Takami. Mr. tall, blonde, and handsome would definitely attract the feminine masses.

Ding ding ding, it was like a bell went off in his head; he had found his new look. He started to scour the internet for any pictures of Hawks that weren't already posted to his socials and be sure to crop any evidence out. A few hours later, Tomura gazed over his final product. He thought it seemed too good to be true; he was sure that anyone with a working brain would know the profile was clearly a catfish. It was too clean, too pristine, and too perfect, but Tomura was tired of the profile's nit-picking details and saved his last changes. It was starting to get dark, and he had to begin his Comp Sci homework soon so he'd have time to play zombies on Call of Duty later.

Tomura woke to a multitude of buzzes notifying him of the several hundred matches he'd accumulated overnight on his Hawks profile. Apparently, no one had a working brain within the 15-mile radius. The messages were filled with tons of chicks he had seen on campus or in class. He even recognized the one from the Halloween party. He spent his morning smoke break, siphoning through the various contenders.

Too tall.

Too blonde.

Too ugly.

Until...

He finally stopped scrolling when he reached your profile; he had seen you before in his Major classes. You were a somewhat modest girl, always working to be an overachiever and teacher's pet. You hadn't spoken to him before, only forcing a smile when Tomura was caught staring at you in class. You were talented, beautiful, quiet, and you hadn't encountered Touya yet. You were everything he had wanted, and more. He started to type a message awaiting your response.

Keigo: "What's keeping you up this late, love ;)"

Tomura thought to keep it casual enough to fit his suave persona.

Y/N: "lol, just sum late night studying keeping me up."

Y/N: "won't lie im very nervous to texting you rn, i'm a big fan

Keigo: "it's gud knowing i have fans as cute as you ;p"

The conversation seemed to flow from there between you two, texting for almost two weeks strong. Tomura had learned so much about you in a short time, your favorite foods, your favorite color, favorite music, and your dislikes as well. Touya often came by his room to check in on Operation: Get Shiggy Some Pussy, only to be met with a "Fuck off," and yet another door slammed in his face.

You gushed over how lucky you were to be texting the one and only Keigo Takami. Of course, you were skeptical at first, but what kind of fucked up person would take the time to pretend to be another person? The conversation between you two was great and always kept you on your toes. Still, sometimes days would pass before you received a response; you chalked it to the fact that he was always busy as a celebrity and didn't always have time to respond to you.

You were currently lying in bed and unable to fall asleep; you peered at your phone to see that it was 2:05 am. You let out a sigh, preparing to stare at your ceiling until you finally fell asleep, only to be interrupted by a chime from your phone. It was a message from Keigo.

Keigo: you up? ;(

You instantly typed a response, scared that you had done something wrong.

Y/N: yup, what's wrong…?

Keigo: i'm so fucking hard rn baby ;(((

Oh shit, you hadn't prepared yourself for that response; maybe he injured himself at work or-

Keigo: you still there babe? send a pic ;p

You definitely hadn't prepared for that, but who were you to deny him. Keigo could've asked anyone else in the world, but he asked you. Not wanting to leave him waiting, you quickly shucked your shirt off and used your arm to push up your breasts, giving an illusion of the perfect push up bra. You promptly took several pics, taking the time to edit and select the ideal filters to complement your skin tone.

Y/N: 1 image sent

A bubble indicating him typing popped up instantly

Keigo: 3 images sent

Keigo: fuckkkk babe, ur such a tease

You opened the pics, feeling your panties dampen slightly. It was a cock, well Keigo's cock, fat and engorged, leaking pre-cum against his toned belly. He was mostly well-groomed, but a prominent white tuft of hair appears in the picture, making you wonder if Keigo was actually a natural blonde.

Keigo: 1 video sent

let me see that pretty pussy baby,

It was a video of Keigo languidly stroking his cock, how romantic. It was only right for a gorgeous man like Keigo to have a pretty cock to match. What he lacked in girth was definitely made up for in length, complemented with a slight curve that could definitely reach that itch that none of your toys could scratch. By now, you had ditched your panties and started to slowly start to fuck yourself open with one finger at a time. You started recording and angled the phone against your pillow, trying to capture you desperately fucking yourself on your fingers, letting out a small whimper with each thrust.

Y/N: 1 video sent

You began to fuck yourself vigorously, dragging the accumulated slick over your clit with slow, circular strokes. You felt your orgasm on the brink, growing more restless and desperate, humping reverently at your fingers, whimpering desperately; you were so close...There was a sudden surge of fluid from your core, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth as you kept carefully fucked yourself through your climax. The post-orgasm bliss lulling you to sleep, your eyes had finally fluttered shut, only to be awakened by another chime.

Keigo: 1 image sent

look @ all that cum baby, its all for you ;)

Y/N: when can we meet? my fingers can only work for so long :p

Read: 2:53 am

Aw man, maybe he fell asleep. You were definitely fighting sleep at this point as well, finally closing your eyes, satisfied for the night.

Tomura struggled to catch his breath, reaching for his discarded shirt to wipe the sticky cum off of his stomach. That was the third time this month you'd ask about a meeting, and it was frankly starting to piss him off. He'd have to come up with something fast if he wanted to keep you around. Even though he didn't have much of a moral compass left in his body, the feeling of guilt was hard to ignore. You didn't deserve to be roped into his fucked up social experiment…

A yawn interrupted Tomura's guilty thoughts. He could continue to feel guilty when he wakes up tomorrow.

The following week your prayers had been answered, Keigo finally agreed to meet! It had been such a bittersweet feeling. What if he thought you looked nothing like your profile pictures? Would he reject you and run the other way, screaming? You tried to push your doubtful feelings down by distracting yourself with running errands. Finding the perfect outfit to wear, getting every inch of your body waxed, and picking up a lacy red lingerie set.

Upon getting back to your apartment, you found a red bouquet of roses on the doormat. They were clearly store-bought and not of excellent quality… but it's the thought that counts!

Lots of celebrities were frugal, and of course, Keigo was no different. After further inspection, a small white card with an address and time. You searched the address finding a mid-grade hotel on the outskirts of the city. Keigo was definitely a (cheap) frugal man dedicated to his discretion. Soon realizing that the time on the card was approaching, you quickly ran to shower and primp yourself for the evening. Not even thinking to question how he found your address in the first place...

You had finally arrived at the sketchy hotel, noting that there were little to no cars in the parking lot and noting that none of them looked like they belonged to Keigo. You wandered through the lobby until you finally reached the elevator, tapping the button for the 5th floor. You tried to shake off your pre-meeting jitters, you already knew everything would be fine, but you couldn't shake the feeling of something wrong...

Those intrusive thoughts were soon interrupted by the chime that indicated you had reached your floor. You took a deep breath as you stepped off the elevator, pacing yourself as you walked to your destination.

Room 555

How fitting, you thought. Your knuckles rasped against the door several times.

"Come in." A voice sounded through the door.

You peeked your head around the door before taking a step in the room, not being able to locate the owner of the voice. You gasped after taking the appearance of the room. The room had rose petals haphazardly strewn across the floor. Candles flickered on the dresser, a bubble bath was run in the bathroom, and to top it off, a too cheap bottle of champagne on ice.

There was clearly an effort made, which made your heart swoon, hoping to put a real face to the man you've been speaking to for the past few months, you said out into the empty room.

"Keigo, I like what you've done with the place. You can come out now," you giggled.

"I'm glad you got the flowers," a raspy voice responded.

.......Huh?

Your joy instantly crushed, having heard Keigo's voice multiple times in the interviews you've seen, it sounded nothing like that. Unless he'd suddenly started chain-smoking within the past few months. A loud alarm started going off in your head. It was definitely time to go.

You twirled on your heels and reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped by a hand gripping your upper arm.

"Leaving so soon? The bathwater is still warm…" The mystery voice informed.

"Oh… I think I have the wrong room, so sorry about that." You squeaked, attempting to reach the door again only to be dragged into a bony chest.

Your chin was tilted, forcing you to meet eyes with "Keigo." Who was actually a porcelain-skinned tower of a man with shaggy white hair that had an oddly familiar look to him?

"Let me go! You're not Keigo!" You screamed, hoping to alert any other guests on the floor.

"Fucking took you long enough. I thought you were smarter than those other bitches on campus. Tomura balked, struggling to keep you still in his grasp.

Campus. That's where you recognized the face and voice of your captor, you were both in the same Comp Sci class, and you'd often caught him staring as you worked, chalking it up to you having something on your face or in your teeth. The realization caused tears to spurt from your eyes.

"Poor baby, didn't mommy and daddy teach you to not speak to strangers on the internet?"

"I-I thought y-you were K-Keigo," you gasped, struggling to control your sobs.

"Well, I'm not. Get over it." Tomura slurred, placing sloppy kisses over your collar bone, slowly backing you towards the bed.

You couldn't bring yourself to move or fight anymore, body stiff with fear. Your sobs increase in volume after feeling your legs make contact with the edge of the bed. You didn't know this man from a can of paint, and here he is about to assault you.

"Stop crying before I leak those sexy little videos you shared with "Keigo." Imagine if everyone in the class knew how much of an easy slut you are?" Tomura hissed, shoving you unto the stiff mattress, springs squeaking as you bounced.

You cradled your mouth, struggling to stifle your sobs. Why hadn't you recognized the signs sooner? You spent so much time looking at the situation through rose-colored lenses that you had utterly neglected your safety. But it wasn't the time to feign sympathy for yourself. You needed to take action, and soon—the shaggy haired stranger dragging your motionless body towards the end of the headboard.

"Wait!" You gasped, hoping that you could possibly reason with your captor.

"What's your name?

This was your final chance to escape. You suddenly kicked forward, aiming for his face, failing miserably as it was blocked. Both legs were then shoved into a mating press, granting Tomura the space to press himself even closer to you.

A groan left Tomura's mouth, frotting against your clothed mound, smothering your neck with sloppy saliva drenched kisses. You cowered at the feeling, curling away from his advances. The dry humping continued until a final groan of desperation was released. He was too grown for this shit and didn't feel like going home with stained boxers when your sweet heat was right in front of him.

The red bodycon dress you decided on was shredded down the middle, leaving you in your lingerie set. You added that to the list of things you were already regretting, moving to cover yourself the best you could. Your efforts to preserve the crumb of modesty you had left were futile, both hands knocked out of the way.

"You don't have to hide princess, I think Christmas came early.” “You're wrapped so pretty, baby." He chuckled, moving to fondle your breasts. Taking the time to pinch and pull at both nipples, drawing small hesitant gasps.

"I'll play with these more later. You don't know how long I've waited to play with that cute little pussy in person." You felt your panties tugged to the side, embarrassed with the amount of arousal accumulated below. The feeling was soon replaced with horror after feeling the tip of his cock dragged between your slit.

Tomura used the residual slick to grease his cock, bypassing the need to stretch you out. He pressed forward, forcing himself inside, pausing to catch his breath. Damn... it's been a long time.

You yelped in pain, closing your eyes in hopes of blocking out the situation at hand. You felt him start to pick up his pace, causing small tinges of pain to course through your body.

"Mmmm, open your eyes. I want you to watch me fuck you." He gasped, realizing you hadn't complied yet, he landed a firm slap on your cheek. "Not only are you dumb, but you're also deaf too… open. SMACK your. SMACK fucking. SMACK eyes."

Your eyes shot open, brimming with tears, finding yourself face to face with your captor. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, dainty white lashes framing the lids, traces of dry patches on his face. He wasn't ugly. You'd honestly give him a chance if he asked you out like a decent human being.

His pace had gained traction, hips crashing against yours. You found yourself slowly succumbing to the pleasure, discreetly fucking yourself against him. You wanted to protest and resist against him, but with your inhibitions lowered, you found it hard to comply. Each thrust pulling you further into the abyss that was your impending orgasm. Your lust-filled thoughts being interrupted by the stranger's incoherent mumbling.

"Tomura."

"Huh?" you whimpered, not fully understanding what he said.

"My name is Tomura."

"Okay and mine i-"

"Shut up and say my name." Tomura's thrusts were sporadic, signaling his impending climax. "Beg me to cum…... please."

You barely registered the final demand, not recognizing the soft tone of his voice.

"T-tomura, p-please let me cum!" you begged, right on edge needing something, anything to push you over.

Two nimble, callused fingers drew delicate circles over your clit, forcing you to writhe and sob as your orgasm coursed through your body. The feeling that followed was one of warmth as Tomura came, slowing his thrusts until he collapsed, encasing you in his arms.

Your eyes fluttered shut with your post-orgasm haze lulling you to sleep until a wet, sticky substance trickled along your inner thigh...

What the fuck....

You nearly launched yourself from the bed, fighting to separate yourself from your captor's arms.

"What is wrong with you?"

"You didn't use a condom," you wailed, tears perched at the corner of your eyes. You didn't have the time for a child, you were doing great in classes, your parents would reject you, you'd be stuck playing house with some stranger and-

"Stop muttering. You're fucking up my nap. I'll buy a Plan B when I wake up." Tomura mumbled into the pillow, dragging you back into his chest.

You continued to fight his grasp, pausing after feeling a firm pinch to your side. Fighting was futile at this point, and you couldn't fully assess the situation until you had some decent sleep.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds wouldn't hurt…right?

#bnha x reader #yandere bnha #bnha smut #shiggy x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha x y/n #tw: noncon #tw: manipulation #tw: slapping #tw: dumbification

126 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 4 years

Note

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again??

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?”

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he’s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!!

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

#feedback pls and thank you :D I WAS SCREAMING THE WHOLE TIME I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW I NEED TO SLEEP #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #namjoon oneshot #namjoon oneshots #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #namjoon fluff imagine #namjoon fluff imagines #namjoon fic #namjoon fics #namjoon fic recs #namjoon scenario #bts namjoon imagine

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