#I was kind of aware that i did this but i switched tenses sometime last chapter and ive been stuck in present ever since | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mxxnlitwonders · 4 years

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c’mon pretty boy — miya atsumu

✎ gender. uhm neutral? but female parts are used ✎ contains. pegging, dom!reader, aka atsumu’s a little bratty :3c but i didnt focus on it that much, degradation and praising (giving), oral (giving and receiving), face-riding, little bit of edging, aftercare!!!, bad grammar (i think i switched between tenses hng) ✎ wc. 5.8k (im so sorry)

✎ summary. you’ve always been more of a switch, and you really want to, well, switch, things up. It’ll just take some convincing when it comes to your dear boyfriend.

✎ ameris’ notes. repost from my other blog! owo lil special thanks for nidae back when they helped me a bit with this fic <3

The shatter of the mug echoed through the kitchen, but your form stayed still, sipping your cup of coffee as you stared at Atsumu’s appalled face across the room. His hands frozen and the back of his head still facing you.

“What?” He nearly murmured, turning to face you.

Gently and calmly, you set the cup on the table as you uncrossed your legs. Perhaps you should have waited for Atsumu to sit at the table across from you, but what’s done is done.

Eyeing the remains of the mug on the floor, you stood back up to meet Atsumu’s brown eyes.

“I wanna peg and dom you,” you said again, then pointed to the mess on the floor. “Also you’re cleaning that up.”

Atsumu grimaced, “Hell no.” Carefully, he tiptoed around the shattered pieces to grab a broom and dustpan to clean it up. He was thankful that the mug wasn’t filled with coffee yet.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!” You grinned at him as you leaned against the kitchen counter, resting your chin on your hand. He crouched down to pick up the pieces but gave you a wary side glance.

Atsumu knew that your eyes were on him like a hawk. The two of you guys were together long enough that you knew his every tell. And he knew it. Sometimes, you knew him better than you knew yourself. You were there for him for most of his life, from losing to Karasuno at Nationals during second year, to the falling out you two had in third year, to reconnecting a year after graduation, and finally to when he got scouted by the MSBY Black Jackals when he finally asked you out.

The point is, Atsumu knew that you knew he wasn’t opposed to the idea of you taking control in the bedroom. And he knew you knew that he knew.

“What size do you want?” You asked the setter, already scrolling through an adult sex toy website on your phone.

“I never said I wanted to get pegged,” Atsumu replied, standing back up to throw the remains away. He had to walk past you to toss it into the trash and suddenly he became more and more aware of the predatory gaze you had on him.

Biting your bottom lip, you set your phone down and trailed your eyes over his broad shoulders, to his slim waist (at least compared to the rest of him), and his ass. Atsumu’s thighs were nice too, no doubt, except with the gray sweatpants he had on it was hard to admire. But damn, did you want to ruin him.

Slowly you walked up to your boyfriend and as he turned to face you, suddenly surprised by your presence, you set your hands on his hips, your eyes settling on his chest before going up to his eyes. Atsumu swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing along. Your lust-filled eyes almost scaring him.

Your hands squeezed his hips, bringing him closer to you. A smirk made its way onto your face when you felt his hardened length against you.

“Yeah, but I think you like the idea of it, don’t you?” Leaning up with your breath ghosting over his ear you whispered, “You’d love getting fucked in the ass and you’d love being a good boy, just for me, wouldn’t you, baby?” You made sure to grind into his hips when the last syllable left your mouth.

A low groan rumbled over Atsumu but you suddenly took a step back, an innocent smile on your face being the total opposite to the mood of what was happening just a few seconds ago.

For once, Atsumu swallowed his pride, knowing that you wouldn’t do anything without his explicit consent.

“Surprise me. On the size...” he murmured the last part, looking off to the side.

“Yay!” You cheered in an extremely jarring change of tone, immediately picking up your phone to continue to scroll through for a strap-on.

Atsumu huffed, slightly pissed off that you just left him hanging. Whatever, he’ll make you help him out. Leaving you to your own devices, he settled onto the couch and turned on the TV. That is, until you spoke up once more.

“In the meantime, do you want me to help you with your little problem?” You asked, your voice ever so slightly condescending. His cock strained against his sweatpants and Atsumu couldn’t help but shift around his pants, feeling ever so slightly uncomfortable. Especially with how your eyes rest on the obvious tent.

But you wanted to play around a bit, test the waters.

“Yeah baby, why don’t you help me out?” Atsumu smirked, trying to regain control only for him to slightly falter once he saw the frown on your face.

“Sorry baby,” you walked up to him, caressing his face to make him stare up at you, “only good boys get taken care of.” You ruffled his blonde hair before walking away. There was a little sway in your hips as you walked into your shared bedroom and Atsumu knew that he was so fucked. Literally.

Of course, he shut off the TV to quickly follow you into the bedroom, stumbling over himself on the way.

Atsumu’s presence could be described as large, to put it simply.

He’s a professional volleyball player for one thing, so he was taller than the average person. He’s more than fit too, with his broad shoulders and large thighs. Physically, he took up a lot of room. And even then, Atsumu was loud. His personality took up the entire room whenever he could.

So to see you staring down at him with a hunger in your eyes that he’s never seen before. Shit, for the first time in his life he’s felt small. And fuck does he like it. Loved it, even.

Not that he’ll ever admit it.

Not with the way you stood between his legs and how you tilted his chin to look up at you. God forbid he ever admits to being into this.

“Bet by the end of this, you’ll be so tired I’ll have to take care of you,” Atsumu smirked up at you but instead, your other hand pulled sharply on his hair, yanking him back. You bent down, your lips ghosting against his.

“If you keep acting like a brat I’ll make sure you don’t get to cum,” you scold, “only good boys get to cum.”

With that said, you shoved him back by his shoulders, causing him to fall onto the bed with a light plop. To Atsumu’s distaste, you walked away. But when he saw you grab the strap on and the lube that came with it? He could swear he felt his cock twitch in his sweats.

You set the items on the bed for easier access as you moved to straddle him. You purposely grinded down onto his already hard member and bent down to give him a soft, short kiss, only to move your lips away. You smirked, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes as he desperately tried to kiss your lips.

“Does my pretty boy want to kiss me?”

His hand moved from your hips to the back of your head but you immediately slapped it away, pinning the arm down beside his head as you glared.

“If you keep acting like a pathetic brat, you won’t cum at all tonight,” you threatened. “Just because of that keep your hands to yourself, okay? ‘Tsumu.” Atsumu’s breath hitched. You knew what kind of effect you had on him. You felt him subtly grind into your core just then, but you’d let it slide. After all, the way he was uncharacteristically quiet because of you made you feel a little bit too powerful.

Slowly, you trailed your hands down his chest, grazing over his nipples before playing with the hem of his shirt. Tapping Atsumu’s side, silently telling him you wanted to take it off, he shifted himself to make it easier and you quickly pulled off his shirt.

You took a deep breath, admiring him underneath you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this.” And shit, Atsumu really did have a praise kink because all he wanted was for you to keep on complimenting him, praising him, to call him your pretty boy.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Atsumu smirked, his voice slightly wavering. He hoped you didn’t notice, you did.

“I could,” you replied, your hands slightly hovering over his chest, barely touching him, “I could touch myself, make myself cum as I stare at your pretty body. But that would mean you don’t get to cum. I don’t think you’d want that, would you?” Your hand slid down his abdomen, your finger tracing over the ‘v’ shape lines. You knew he wanted you to touch him, especially with the way he was pressing up into your core.

Wanting a little bit of relief yourself, you grinded down into him, a slight moan leaving both your and his mouth.

“Shit, st-stop fucking teasing!” Atsumu growled, tossing his head back slightly.

You clicked your tongue, “I give the orders here, baby. Not you.”

Climbing off of him, you gestured for him to move further back onto the bed to get into a more comfortable position. Atsumu sat there, watching you as you slowly took off your top and pants, leaving you bare with just a matching lace bra and panties. His favorite ones; the ones that he loved to tear off of you. And you knew it.

You moved onto the bed, the mattress dipping with your weight as you went to sit between his legs. Atsumu felt incredibly vulnerable with your gaze on the obvious tent in his sweatpants, but he felt safe, comfortable.

Your finger traced over the tent lightly, Atsumu rutting his hips up to get more of your touch but you quickly pulled your hand away. Instead, your hand dipped below his waistband, dragging down both his briefs and pants and tossed the clothes to the side, freeing his hard member as it slapped against his stomach. Trails of precum left on his stomach and Atsumu stared down at you, waiting for your touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” you sighed out, your hand finally wrapping around his hard cock, your thumb swiping over his red tip to spread the precum. Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his and he immediately reciprocated, pressing back even harder against you. You bit his bottom lip, causing him to groan as you continued stroking his cock, his hips ever so slightly thrusting into your fist. You slipped your tongue into his mouth before you pulled away, a string of saliva connected your mouth and Atsumu’s.

Your grip tightened as you stroked a little faster and a groan left his mouth, tossing his head back.

“Fuck, feels good,” he moaned out.

“Yeah, pretty boy?” You asked. Before Atsumu could reply, you ducked your head down, placing a languid kiss against his red tip. Then a small kitten lick against the beads of precum that gathered at the tip. Atsumu let out a choked moan, wanting more from you but he bit his lip, he wasn’t about to let you hear him beg, he knew he’d lose if he begged. But you weren’t about to lose either.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock and moved your head down his shaft until you felt Atsumu hit the back of your throat. It was difficult taking all of him in your mouth, since Atsumu was on the larger side but it was easier now after a bit of practice.

Breathing through your nose, you hollow your cheeks and begin bobbing your head up and down his cock. Atsumu tried holding back his moans but when you slightly slapped his hip, he finally let out every pretty noise that was only for your ears. Your hands began stroking the parts of him that you couldn’t reach as your jaw began hurting. But you were determined to make Atsumu cum and with the way his thighs tensed and his moans getting louder as he pleaded for you to let him cum, you knew he was well on his way.

You take your mouth off of him, to his disappointment, but when your hand takes over, stroking him how he likes it all thought leaves his head.

“Your moans sound so pretty, baby,” you murmured against his lips before kissing him and swallowing his moans. You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your lips as he began thrusting up into your fist and with how he couldn’t focus on kissing you. Instead, he pulled away letting out a loud groan as he felt his peak approach.

Until you stopped your strokes and Atsumu let out the saddest of whines which made you want to spoil him. But you wouldn’t.

“Fuck, I was so close,” Atsumu panted.

“Gotta beg for it, baby, I don’t know how much you want to cum,” you replied. Atsumu scowled at you but you could only smile back at him, knowing exactly what you were doing. Especially with how you decided to wrap your hands around his hard cock again, slowly stroking up and down his shaft.

Atsumu let out more moans and he knew that you already won. He knew that you wouldn’t let him cum, would make him edge for the rest of the night and as much as he liked the idea of that, maybe it’d be better off if it was for another night.

Another night, meaning he was definitely going to let you do whatever you pleased to him again after this.

“Fuck,” he gasped out your name, feeling you speed up your strokes, your thumb swiping over his tip. He thrusted his hips up into your fist, felt his thighs tensing and his peak was coming close again. Faster this time as you had just edged him. Just as you were about to edge him once he finally let out the words you’ve been wanting to hear.”

“Let me cum, please, I—fuuuck—“ he choked on his words, letting out a loud, desperate groan. “‘S’close, I want to—want to cum.”

Knowing that was the best you were going to get out of him, for now, you continued stroking his hard member, your grip tightening just a little bit. You were sure to focus on giving his tip the attention it needed as well. And then his eyes rolled back into his head, a loud moan escaping his mouth that vaguely sounded like your name and spurts of white cum painted your hand and his stomach.

You stroked him through his orgasm, feeling his member slowly softening. When Atsumu put his hand on your wrist, trying to pull you away from him to prevent overstimulation, you smiled up at him.

“Good boy, you look so good cumming like that, ‘Tsumu. So pretty, all for me,” you leaned up to give him a chaste kiss. You pulled away, staring at him with half lidded eyes before kissing him again.

Atsumu lived for your kisses, with the way you were nibbling on his bottom lip to the way your tongue swiped into his mouth, how you slightly suckled on his tongue. If it was possible, he could live off of your kisses but he was only human, still in need of air and still trying to catch his breath from his orgasm. So he pulled away.

His brown eyes stared into yours, as you stared at him with innocent eyes. You brought your hand up to your lips, your tongue darting out to lick the cum that fell on your hand and you smiled.

“Always taste so good, baby,” you moved your hand towards him, telling him to lick what was left and he hesitantly did what he was told. Atsumu’s cock was already hardening once more from how dirty this was.

“So, are ya gonna fuck me already or what?” He asked, eyeing the strap-on that sat on the bed.

You clicked your tongue, “Gotta be patient baby. Besides,” you pushed him down gently onto the bed, stripping off your panties and bra before climbing to straddle his waist, “you’re gonna make me cum with your tongue, okay pretty boy?” Immediately, his hands went to caress your breasts but you slapped them away, pinning them beside his head.

“No touching until I say so,” you chastised Atsumu, “now make me cum or I’ll leave you exactly like this.” You reach back to lightly stroke his cock before pulling away, a frustrated groan leaving his mouth.

Before Atsumu could give you any type of remark, you had already climbed towards the top of the bed, settling your legs beside his head.

Atsumu stared up at your glistening folds, his hands already automatically trying to grab your hips to bring you down to his mouth. Repeating your actions from before, you were quick to swipe his hands away.

“Remember what I said, pretty boy,” you scolded. With that, he slowly set his hands back onto the bed, gripping the sheets and you lowered yourself onto his face. One of your hands buried in his hair and the other on the headboard.

Hesitantly, Atsumu licked his tongue through your folds from your entrance to clit, a pleased moan leaving his mouth as he tasted you and he was sure not to miss your gasp. You pull on his hair a little harder, slowly grinding your hips down on his mouth, following his tongue against your core.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so-fuck!” you desperately cried out as he brought your clit into his mouth, suckling on it then going back to licking through your folds. Your grip on his hair tightens as you begin bucking your hips against him, breathy moans filling the room.

His tongue trails down from your clit to your entrance, thrusting in you as one of his hands moved to then replace his tongue. You’d be sure to punish Atsumu another time because fuck was he putting his mouth to good use for once. He slipped in two of his long, thick fingers into your wet hole that’s a mix of your slick and his own saliva. He moves his mouth back to your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and suckling against it as his strong setter fingers stroked inside you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you so easily and so well.

“Fuck, yes, I’m almost-” you felt the pressure in your core building up and your thighs tensing up. A desperate whine left your lips as you finally hit your climax. Atsumu stroked you through your orgasm, letting you ride his face until your grip on his hair loosened up and you slowly got off of him.

A sense of pride and admiration flowed through you as soon as you saw your slick coat the sides of his mouth and chin. Sitting slightly up, Atsumu grinned at you as he placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking and cleaning his fingers of your juices before pulling them out with a ‘pop’.

Grasping him by the back of his head, you pulled him towards you, placing a passionate kiss against his mouth. Your tongue stroking his lips before he parted to let you taste yourself against him. Atsumu moaned against you when one of your hands moved to twist one of his nipples between your fingers.

You pulled away, a smirk very apparent on your face as he flushed red, “So you like that more than you let on, huh.” You recalled the few times you’ve given his nipples attention in the past, him often pulling your hand away but he’d always bring you into a kiss right away instead. Probably to hide his pink-tinted cheeks.

Atsumu pursed his lips before you moved to kiss his jawline, then began leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck, suckling here and there to leave marks. You made your way down his chest, making sure to lightly play with his nipples with your fingers until your lips found its way onto his chest. You pull the perked bud in between your lips, sucking and lightly nibbling. You stared up at Atsumu, who let out light, breathy moans with his eyes shut.

You pulled away, reaching over to grab the bottle of lube, the cap opening up with a click. Atsumu opened his eyes at the sound, then watched you closely. You patted his knees and Atsumu layed back on the bed, spreading his legs open.

“You alright?” You asked, watching as he seemed a bit uneasy.

Atsumu would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. On one hand, he wanted to prove that he could take your cock. On the other, he’s the one usually doing the fucking. But fuck he really, really, liked feeling like putty because of you.

He felt your hands caress his legs up to his waist, “Relax baby-” you kissed him at the crown of his head “-we can always stop if you’re uncomfortable.” But Atsumu shook his head with a huff.

“Can’t lose to you,” he argued. You lightly chuckled, knowing that was just a way for him to convince himself that you fucking him? Wasn’t going to make him less than. And if his conversations with Bokuto and Hinata in the locker room were any indication, he was clearly the one winning.

“Alright,” you grab one of the pillows on the bed, telling him to lift his hips as you slide it snuggly underneath him. You moved to sit between his legs, tapping on them.

“Hold yourself open, pretty boy,” you ordered softly. Atsumu placed his hands under his knees, spreading his legs open for you and watched as you stared down at his puckered hole. You traced your finger around it, Atsumu slightly jolte and you chuckled softly to place a kiss on his thigh, murmuring reassuring words to the man.

With the bottle of lube, you poured a generous amount on your fingers before moving to slowly insert a finger into his hole. You kissed his thigh again, asking Atsumu if he was alright.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed out. He was about to ask you to move but instead bit his tongue. The feeling of your finger in him was... Foreign, to say the least. But it wasn’t unwelcome. With the way you fingered him gently was different to how you’ve been treating him every now and then this past session.

“Ah-!” Atsumu gasped out in pleasure when you placed another finger into him, even pouring a bit of lube to help ease the stretch. You kissed him again, distracting him from any discomfort as you stretched him for what was to come. Your fingers stroked his insides, scissoring every so often to try to open him up wider.

You pulled away, glancing at his face to make sure he was alright before he told you to keep going. You smirked, kissing the tip of his nose before you went to kiss his chest once more, leaving dark red marks. He’d have to change quickly if he wanted to avoid any teasing from his teammates in the locker room.

Sliding one more finger into him, Atsumu moaned. You separated your mouth from his chest, smiling at the marks before staring up at him, your fingers sliding in and out much more easily as you spread him open.

“You like that baby?” You asked, leaning back to stare at him in all his glory. His cock was painfully hard, dripping with precum with an achingly red tip. With your free hand, you lightly stroked him before placing a languid kiss on his tip before sitting back up and pulling your hand away. “Okay, pretty boy, do you think you’re ready?”

Atsumu nodded his head, not trusting his voice. You kissed his thigh again before taking your fingers out, watching as his hole fluttered around nothing. Atsumu was about to let his legs down again but you held them both back.

“Be a good boy for me and keep yourself open, baby,” you told him then climbed off the bed to put on the strap on a little easier. Atsumu watched as you placed your legs through the harness, watching as the dildo hung from your hips as you snuggly put it on. Admittedly, you looked really good, to put it simply. And, he was glad you picked one that wasn’t too girthy but still somewhat long. It wasn’t too intimidating as you slid back onto the bed, grabbing the lube bottle once more to coat the dildo before tossing the bottle to the side.

You settled between his legs once more, your hands caressing his thighs before settling onto his hips.

“Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” you said softly, as you stared down into his brown eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, just fuck me already,” Atsumu replied. You rolled your eyes, slapping his bare cheek. He was definitely ready but trying to hide his nerves. “Unless you’re too tired.”

You glare at him, already grabbing the dildo to place at his entrance and pressed your hips forward. Atsumu hissed which quickly turned into a moan as you slowly filled him up. You made sure to go slow, stopping every so often to rub soothing motions on his thigh and making sure he was alright. Each time he’d give you the go ahead you made sure to whisper him praises, telling him how much of a good boy he was being.

When your hips pressed into him, signaling that you were all the way in, you stilled.

“You’re so good for me baby, taking me all so well,” you murmured, leaning down to give him a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes were shut as he controlled his breathing. Atsumu was admittedly more nervous than he thought but he was enjoying this a lot more than he thought.

Opening his eyes to stare up into you, he shakily said, “You can move.”

Your eyes flickered over his face, trying to see if there was any discomfort or any part of him that was even lying to try to show that he could take you. Once you couldn’t find anything of the sort, you slowly pulled out, leaving just the tip in before gently pushing back in.

As you began to find a sort of rhythm, gradually going from gentle thrusts to rough thrusts, Atsumu lightly panted, purposely preventing himself from trying to let out any moans for your satisfaction.

With a newfound passion, you angled your hips to deliberately hit his prostate and finally you heard him let out a choked moan.

“Fu-fuck! Ah-baby please, I—fuuckk,” Atsumu dragged out the last words, tears gathering in his eyes as he held up his legs by the back of his knees a little more. Your hand gripped his hips harder, your nails surely leaving marks. Another hand sprawled on his chest, lightly scratching over his toned body and over his nipples.

With every sharp thrust into his desperate hole, hitting the spot that is making him see stars, his hard member slapped against his abdomen, leaving streaks of precum along with his previous orgasm. The tip of his cock was so red and pretty that you couldn’t help but move your hand down to lightly stroke it. Incoherent moans continued leaving his mouth as your thumb rubbed over his tip, spreading his precum more.

“Yeah? You look so fucking pretty like this,” you breathed out, groaning when a particular thrust just sucked you back in. “What a pretty boy, taking my cock so well. Who knew you could be a good boy.”

“Ahh- fuck!” his words bleeding into a moan as you gripped his cock a little tighter, stroking him a little faster. The sharp pain in his hips grew numb as you continued holding him up, thrusting harder. A satisfied laugh escaped your mouth as you felt him grind his hips up into you.

“You like this? Huh?” You asked, a condescending tone lacing around your tongue. “You like it when I fuck your tight hole so much that you’re holding your legs open. What a slut. My. Little. Slut.” Atsumu could feel his peak coming, the heat in his core building up and his thighs were shaking for the second time that night.

Atsumu bit the bottom of his lip, trying to hold back any moans. He didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of how he felt from hearing you talk to him like that. No, not at all. Nev—

A sharp pain against his ass cheek caused him to gasp out but you were quick to rub over the mark, soothing him.

“Don’t be a brat, come on pretty boy, let me hear your moans,” you rolled your hips into his and Atsumu knew he was close. So, so, so, close. “Or I won’t let you cum.” Your thrusts began to slow down and instead of pumping his cock like you were earlier, you gripped the base of his shaft.

“Fuuuuck, I’ll be good,” Atsumu caved in, begging so desperately, “I’ll be a good boy for you please, I need to cum.” He let go of his legs, immediately wrapping them around you instead to rut his hips into you. His hands sprawled beside his head as he turned to look to the side, too embarrassed at giving you full control.

“Good boy,” you murmured and began thrusting harder, faster into him. You intertwined your hand with his when you bent down, kissing the marks you’ve left on his chest. A smirk appeared on your face as you heard him moan. “My little prince.”

Atsumu’s other hand found its way onto your shoulder at the same time as your hand moving down to stroke his aching cock.

The two of you hissed at the same time; Atsumu for the added sensations and you as he dug his nails onto your back. There were definitely going to be marks left on your back but you didn’t mind. Not with the way Atsumu’s pretty face was scrunching up in pleasure, the desperate moans that left his mouth as he continued to try to meet each of your thrusts.

And—oh fuck—with his tongue hanging out from his mouth like he’d always do while playing on the court, shit. You felt like you could cum right there and then with the way his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Shit, ‘m gonna-” Atsumu let out a whine, unable to finish his sentence as he came all over you and his stomach. His legs tightened his hold around you and you slowed your thrusts with your hand stroking his cock, letting him ride out high.

When Atsumu’s legs loosened around you, you fully pulled out, watching as his chest heaved with every breath he took. You rubbed circles on his hips, especially over the marks left by your nails. The stinging on your back was still there, but you’d be sure to check them out tomorrow morning.

“Good boy,” you murmured, licking off the cum off your hand before leaning down to softly say against his lips, “Such a good fucking boy, just for me.”

You finally kissed him, tilting your head for a deeper kiss, running your hands up his sides as you continued giving him small praises against his lips before kissing him again. Finally pulling away, you admired your handiwork. The many marks left on his skin would surely make him the slightest bit mad, albeit jokingly (somewhat), tomorrow but damn did they look good on him.

“How was it?” You asked, smiling as you comfortably shifted back into your casual personality.

Atsumu let out a heavy sigh, tossing his head back against the bed, “ ‘Sgood.”

“Just good?” Atsumu brought his head up, glaring at you which made you laugh. This was as good as it was going to get but with that gleam in his eyes, you knew this wouldn’t be the last.

You lightly slap his thighs before moving off the bed and promptly taking off the harness, “Alright big boy, let's get you cleaned up. You weren’t uncomfortable at all?” Worry flickered through your eyes as you watched Atsumu push himself onto his arms. You sat beside him on the edge of the bed, interlocking your hands with him as you searched his face.

“No, I’m just surprised you had enough energy to fuck like that, thought you were more of a, well, pillow baby.”

You shrugged, “I just wanted to switch things up.” A grin made its way onto your face as Atsumu groaned, falling back onto the bed and letting go of your hand. You laughed as he threw insults at you for that terrible pun, getting up to grab a few wet and warm towels to wipe him down. You also set the water for the bath as well before heading back to help clean him up.

As the two of you prepared for the night an hour later, with Atsumu resting his head on your chest as you ran your hands gently through his surprisingly soft, blond hair, you asked him if he’d want to do it again.

Silence filled the room until Atsumu lifted his head to look up at you.

“If ya wanted to fuck me that badly you could just ask y’know,” he replied smugly. You placed your hand on his face, shoving him away but his grip around your torso tightened, trying to keep you close to him.

“Agh, okay okay, fine stop pushin’ me,” Atsumu protested trying to lick your hand to get you to stop. You pulled your hand away (not because of his childish antics), wiping your hand on his shirt with a sigh.

He rests his head against your chest once more, “But, fine. I... wouldn’t mind it.” He whispered the last part into your chest.

You hummed lightly, the corner of your lips turning up, returning your hand to thread it through his locks. Now you had something to look forward to and damn were you glad that you saw that one notification on his phone. The one with his shared chat with Hinata, Bokuto, and Sakusa. And specifically the notification about Bokuto directly addressing Atsumu about how “he’s always wanted to try pegging, too.”

You’d have to thank Bokuto later.

***

“Babe, are you kidding me?” Atsumu shouted from the bedroom. You raised your brow, sipping your coffee before setting it down on the dinner table to walk into the shared room.

Upon walking into the room, Atsumu was staring at himself through the mirror, his shirt through his arms but the rest of the torso bare and you could tell he was getting ready for his morning run. But what surprised you when walking in was the actual amount of hickies and marks you left over his chest with a few coupled on his neck.

He turned his head quickly towards you, his blond hair swaying a bit.

You sheepishly grinned with a shrug, “Oops?”

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #miya atsumu x dom!reader #miya atsumu x dom!reader smut #miya atsumu x you #atsumu x you #mxxn.writes #🌙.pegging #🌙.edging #🌙.degradation #🌙.praising #🌙.femdom #💙.atsumu

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doctorbunny · 3 years

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MILGRAM theory time: Haruka!

This isn't going to go super in depth (famous last words) but there's a few heavily debated parts of Haruka's MV I want to share my findings/thoughts on because I think this is my new special interest and during my quest to get best boy's song to 1 million views I have been looking over his first MV with a fine tooth comb so to speak.

Disclaimer: As the Jackalope said in the "This is the MILGRAM" trailer, we don't necessarily know everyone's crime from just the first video, its possible that a lot of things will be re-contextualized in the second MV, however I am not psychic or bilingual and thus will only be working with content released before August 20th 2021 and translated into English (which could cause some language/cultural details to be lost on me as translation is not a 1 to 1 process).

TW for discussions of ableism, child abuse, murder and animal death. Also this is really long so sorry to all the people that follow me for non-MILGRAM stuff

Firstly, I want to start on the topic of Haruka as a person. He is disabled. He does not have 'the mind of a child' (although he is 17, making him legally a minor in both North America and Japan). He is not just 'child-like'. And he is not mentally ill (well he might be, in the sense that many disabilities like Haruka's have strong comorbidities [where a person has two or more conditions but neither directly causes the other] with anxiety, depression and PTSD, but usually when I see people talk about him 'struggling with mental illness' they go on to refer to aspects of his disability). Sometimes on tumblr, people like myself, will see canonical traits written into a character and identify them as being traits associated with our disabilities/mental illness and headcanon them as such. Sometimes this even involves saying things like "It's basically canon!" Although we understand that these characters were probably not the result of a writer intending to write a disabled person. When I say that Haruka is being written as a person with a neurodevelopmental disability, I mean the writer intended to write a disabled character and wrote them in a way that they wanted the audience to pick up on. As an autistic person (which is one of many neurodevelopmental disorders and also something I probably didn't have to specify because who else would be writing an essay about a series they got into a few days ago at 11 o'clock at night) I really like how Haruka has been written so far. There's definitely some parts of him that have been exaggerated so abled normies can pick up on his disability (namely how his MV 's main motif is really child-like drawings) but the writers also included a lot of smaller details I appreciate like how it is noted he avoids eye contact when talking to other people and is depicted as nervously pulling at his sleeves in official artwork, or how he says he finds his prison uniform (which has tight straps) 'relaxing' and when he gets nervous/tense, he will dig his fingernails into the palm of his hands. (These last two potential being examples of 'self stimulation' [aka stimming] where a person seeks out specific sensory stimuli in order to help regulate their nervous system/emotions, in this case the tight uniform creates a comforting, secure feeling [you may have heard about some people preferring to sleep under weighted blankets for this reason] and digging nails into his palms sounds uncomfortable/painful but is done in an attempt to deal with a greater sensory discomfort caused by the situation/environment) I also appreciate the depth he is written with, he struggles to communicate verbally but in his MV and interactions with other inmates is shown to have insecurities, opinions and a consistent thought process (this is all basic character stuff but unfortunately not always present in disabled characters)

Also I want to add that (in terms of what we've been shown so far) Haruka did not kill anyone because of his disability/mental illness. Disabled people are not inherently more innocent than abled people. But there is no disability/mental illness where a symptom is that you kill people and real people have to live with the stigma when you speak carelessly and suggest things like "Haruka is the kind of mentally ill person who kills people as a cry for help" 🧂 (or at the very least real people have to read BS like that and cringe). TL;DR Haruka is less child-like and more onion-like (as in, he has layers) 🧅🧅🧅

Now is the actual theory stuff, oops:

Every prisoner in MILGRAM is supposed to have committed murder in some way, obviously considering Yuno just had an abortion (which i personally do not consider an act of murder) whilst Mu literally stabbed someone to death, this definition is stretched a bit. But it is not agreed upon yet who Haruka killed/how many people he killed or why he killed.

In his MV he is shown to have chased after his dog into a forest, seen something off-screen, then beaten something into a messy pulp with a rock. Some people think the dog is a red herring and that Haruka actually killed his mother/the girl from the fireworks show/his brother. I do not agree.

First: I believe Haruka when he says he doesn't have a brother. The MV literally starts by Haruka looking in the mirror and then switching between the him now

and a really similar looking younger child who just so happened to be a key feature of his memories (I don't have the vocabulary to explain it but its like cinematic parallels that establish this is the same person at different points of their life)

Its not impossible that this is Haruka's secret younger brother, but i think its unlikely. I saw someone saying they had to be different people because Haruka looks less happy than the child but like, most 17 year olds are less visibly happy than when they were 7 (or however old the child is meant to be). Life happens.

So when Haruka is shown pushing the child around and eventually strangling him, this isn't meant to be literal (homicide or suicide), but a representation of how conflicted Haruka feels about his younger self, who may have committed the murder (if you've ever been kept awake cringing at memories of something you said in the past and wishing you could go slap some sense into your former self, this is like that but 10 times more self loathing). The lyric "I am always repeating yesterday," implies he might think about this specific past event a lot.

Moving on, its pretty well accepted that Haruka's parents were abusive in some way and Haruka internalised a lot of it: he constantly apologises, he says in his interrogation questions that his one wish come true is that "[he] want[s] to be loved" and describes in his MV how when he couldn't find the words he was looking for ("you're unfair") one of his parents "would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”". He seems to know its unfair but also still says he 'loves' his family, possibly mistakenly believing it is his fault, but also showing an awareness of his situation (and how his parents might behave).

Now, the MV is stylised in a way that makes certain details unclear, but there is one clear detail showing that Haruka's dog was killed

This is the first close up of Haruka and the dog. Haruka's mother is just out of frame supervising, but they look pretty happy. Notice how the puppy has a silvery chain for a collar. Somehow, this dog gets out of the house but only Haruka is shown chasing after it (whether his mother was searching elsewhere or didn't bother following her disabled son into the forest is unclear). Either way, young Haruka is now in the forest, unsupervised.

By the time he finds the dog, there is already blood, suggesting it was initally attacked by something else.

is this a sigh of relief from a boy whose finally found his beloved pet or a jealous weakling glad that nature took its course and he is finally free of that meddling mutt stealing all his mummy's attention? /j

I think this shock at the discovery that 'there is blood on his hands' could imply that rather than literally getting the blood from his dog, Haruka has seen his already injured dog and realises that if the dog got out because of him (he is previously shown to be aware his parents seem to blame him for everything) then he is the reason his dog is injured/dying and will be blamed for it. (this scene plays over the lyrics "It’s fine, though it’s really not It’s really fine, though I don’t really think so When I tried to understand it, You’ll make that disappointed face again" suggesting he is trying to avoid making his parents disappointed and letting the family pet escape into danger is something that could make them very disappointed)

now we get into rock murder (this is present-day Haruka implying that this is either: not how the scene really played out; the writers really wanting the audience to know that this was Haruka's doing and not someone else's; or this turns into a separate incident that happened much later [although note that the red sky and blue moon is the same as when young Haruka first appears at the start])

b the corpse is beyond mangled now, but its clearly the dog because the silver chain collar is still there, to the right of the body. (circled in red for your convenience :3)

My hypothesis is: Haruka didn't set out to kill his dog, but upon finding it injured (we don't know the severity aside from bleeding and also it not being able to run away from Haruka kneeling down above it w/ a big rock so it could range from treatable with a lot of vet help to already on death's door, TBH I don't think Haruka would know the difference) He knew he'd be blamed for this; made into a villain who let the poor puppy come to harm. He panicked and killed the dog out of some idea that it would make him the victim here (since he'd be found crying over a dog corpse, which might make a parent go comfort him rather than getting angry about what could've happened to the dog). This is over the lyrics: "I cried, I screamed I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling I was in denial, I was in denial I just had to make sure I’ve become a victim, I’ve become a victim" (there's another theory that he was also jealous of the dog, which could work here too, since this is not some calculated plot; rather its a rash decision) This ties in with his Japanese song title (translated as Weakness) which is a play on a phrase sort of like "The strong eat, the weak do not" to become "The weak are eaten by society" or "The weak eat each other to survive" [once again I am reminding everyone this is based on second hand information from the youtube comments section (from users mitchki and Alphaistic) because I do not speak Japanese] This second meaning (The weak eat each other to survive) makes sense under the reading that Haruka killed his dog in order to 'survive' making his parents disappointed for the dog escaping.

Miscellaneous points:

We don't know where Haruka's necklace came from yet, it must be a gift since the most expensive thing he's ever bought was cotton candy. The younger child in the video isn't wearing it and neither is his mother or the girl in the purple dress.

Haruka's home seems quite big, at the start we can see a large flower garden outside the window and there's a forest in walking distance. This might suggest his family is quite wealthy

Haruka probably did go to school at some point as homeschooling is not a legally accepted as an alternative to public schools in Japan. (However it is estimated that up to 5000 families homeschool, this is uncommon) A lot (about 62%) of Japanese schools apparently have a 'special needs' classes and there are about 505 schools focused on educating intellectually disabled students (although I do not know which sort Haruka would've needed as whilst intellectual and development disabilities can be comorbid they aren't the same). Now, if children aged 7-14 don't go to school, their parents receive a fine, but its possible that if Haruka's parents are wealthy, they just paid it to avoid sending him to school. (This might imply they wanted to hide him or were generally ashamed of him in some way) However high school education (for students over 14) is not legally required and its likely that even if Haruka went to elementary/middle school, he hasn't been around people his own age in at least 3 years. As he seems quite lonely and glad that the other prisoners give him attention.

I don't think Haruka's parents are divorced and if they are, its not his father who left. Haruka mentions in the 30 questions that he thinks he disappointed his father. But still includes him as part of his family ("My father and mother and me"). A theory I've seen is that his father was disappointed by his son being disabled and left. but developmental disabilities (especially in non verbal and semi verbal children like Haruka) can be diagnosed before the age of 3, so I feel it is unlikely that Haruka would bring up his father if he left that early in Haruka's life

All MILGRAM prisoners have covered one of DECO*27's older vocaloid songs (DECO*27 is a well known producer who composes the music for MILGRAM) Haruka covered 'Two Breaths Walking' (https://youtu.be/puXLfVWrz2Q) which is about a boy's first relationship and how his mother's jealousy set him up for failure as the relationship becomes toxic (specifically it has some very funny out of context lines like "Whose breasts are you sucking on now?") so yeah, mommy issues: the song (Also: some people say in the song, the boy kills the girl at the end, but this isn't literal, TBW is the first of a trilogy of songs about the same relationship, it is followed by Android girl then Two Breaths Walking: Reloaded and the story resolves with the couple reuniting as adults and getting in the relationship again, although its not necessarily as abusive as before, its still implied to be codependant ending on the line 'We should live like oxygen tanks, sucking breathe from the words each of us exhale, until our last breathe')

In all seriousness, the scene where younger Haruka is walking through the city with his mother but it keeps repeating until older Haruka pulls the younger one away might indicate an attempt to focus the happier memories of his parents (since this is also over the lyrics "Why is it breaking? Tell me why? Please don’t change If I tried and couldn’t say it, You would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”" which depict a worse scene) I think both his parents are still physically present but have become far more emotionally distant, not giving him as much attention, which exacerbates his loneliness from not having any friends his own age to talk to

And if one of his parents did leave? I think its likely his mother since she is shown disappearing out of his reach after the dog-incident (inferring she got angry/disappointed in Haruka anyway) This could also be where he got his necklace from: Its something his mother used to wear (although this is 100% a guess) and that's why its shown to be important to him

This one is just me, but i didn't realise until a rewatch that when Haruka is watching the younger him and the girl running together, the background has fireworks. Haruka mentions fireworks being a key memory to him so I wonder if this was one of the first/last times he got to make a friend...

On three separate occasions in the interrogation, Haruka mentions not liking animals. Despite this, he is depicted as sleeping with a rabbit plush and on his birthday art (I'd include that too but tumblr only allows 10 pictures per post, so here's a link) he is standing next to a giant blueberry and strawberry cake with two bunny themed biscuits at the side. Through my experiences of seeing Japanese fandom art on pixiv, sometimes rabbits are used to insinuate a character is cute and timid in fanart.

Meaningless details: Haruka sleeps with his necklace on; he sleeps on a bed and not a futon; at first I thought he woke up holding his plush's hand but his hand is merely next to the toy; and considering the state of the pillow and blanket, I wonder if he moves a lot in his sleep or if the is just because in this case he seems to be waking up from a nightmare about the dog incident...

Final note: I've spent so many hours writing this I don't remember if i was building up to any big finale or not but I hope you enjoyed reading this! Feel free to add on in the comments/reblogs.

#haruka sakurai #milgram #milgram theory #001 #text post #essay #long post

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selfpositiveundertale · 3 years

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Text reads: Scoliosis and other types of spinal curvature can be painful, uncomfortable, and difficult to manage. You might even feel self conscious about your appearance if the curve is very pronounced. Maybe other people act as if you've done something wrong to make your spine that way. Please know that while it may cause quite a lot of suffering, it does not make you any less lovely than you are. It is not a negative reflection of your moral character or your work ethic, and certainly does not reflect laziness on your part, no matter what anyone says. You are good enough, and the condition of your spine does not change that fact.

Oh hey I forgot I made this a while back. I have severe scoliosis and I was feeling really bad about it once day so I made this.

Cw ahead for judgmental people and talk of medical issues caused by my scoliosis, could potentially freak some people out.

Someone once judged me at the age of 11 as being "stuck up" without even speaking to me because of the way I walk(???) until my mother informed them that I walk this way because of my scoliosis. I've had people blame me for having "bad posture" when I can't help the way my shoulders slant. In high school when I was in marching band I frequently got yelled at for not standing correctly when I was doing my best. I've been called lazy and accused of making excuses to get out of things like running laps or doing sit-ups or playing sports, when my chiropractor specifically told me to stop doing such things after all the times I've dislocated a rib or five doing them and gave me a note to excuse me from gym class in high school. He frequently encouraged me to switch instruments in band(I played French horn and he did NOT like me carrying around a heavy instrument case) to something light, like flute or clarinet. I can dislocate ribs just by reaching for something on a shelf over my head, or by laughing too much, or by rolling over in bed. Things many people don't even have to think about, but I have to be constantly aware of my every little action or risk injuring myself in some way because of how my spine curves and twists and pulls everything out of line. Some days I have trouble breathing because my muscles tense up so badly that it constricts me and my ribs won't expand to take a breath until I find a way to relieve the tension. Being on my feet longer than a few minutes causes my back to hurt and it only gets worse until I get off my feet. Sometimes when ribs high up on my back pop out of place, they pull my neck muscles out of whack and cause migraines that are at least 8/10 level pain and last for days until I can get in to see my chiropractor and have him fix me up and put me back together. This is currently happening. My head hurts so bad, my teeth hurt too, and I'm nauseous. I see my chiropractor on Tuesday so I just have to hold out until then. I can take Dramamine(over the counter antiemetic medicine, basically it relieves nausea and prevents vomiting but causes drowsiness, great for long road trips if you tend to get carsick and don't mind sleeping for a few hours during the ride) for the nausea AND it'll knock me out so I can sleep through the pain. I have plenty of Excedrin Migraine even though it only takes the edge off migraines like this. I have herbal teas that help relieve pain. I practically have an arsenal of tools for dealing with headaches since I've been getting them every day and a minimum of a migraine a week for the last 11 years. I can make it two more days.

Anyway, I hope this helps someone else whose spine has some kind of curve or other issue.

#self positivity #deltarune #seam deltarune #deltarune seam #Long post

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andypantsx3 · 4 years

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conspire | 3 | practice

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Fake dating Shouto Todoroki was an absolute whirlwind, but it certainly came with its benefits.

As weeks passed, you found yourself with a compliant test subject and plenty of data for the work you were doing on his support item. You’d confirmed that you could use this work as your submission for your senior project -- developing a support item without any input, direction, or critique from a professor -- and you’d set to the task with enthusiasm after that.

Shouto caved easily enough to the tests you’d put to him on your first “date” and you’d had way too much fun getting him to freeze and heat things for you, strapping him up in all the nodules and wires as you’d promised. Over the course of a few weeks, you’d analyzed the absolute crap out of the cryogenic structure of his ice crystals and tested the limits of his temperature control to your heart’s content, pleased that the amount of time you were spending together also played into your cover story.

It turned out his quirk worked as you’d suspected, which was incredible. Shouto’s power allowed his body to work like a heat pump, directing thermal energy against the current in which it naturally flowed at will. He used the energy from one side of his body to alternately push energy into or draw energy from the other side of his body, in order to create a temperature gradient strong enough to induce ice or flames.

He was basically like a really good looking, high-powered air conditioner.

The discovery was overwhelming and gave you limitless possibilities as to what kind of support item you could build for him.

The problem was, there were maybe too many options.

“You can watch my quirk training, if you need more direction,” Shouto had suggested one night when you were tucked up doing homework together. He’d really taken to the role of doting boyfriend and put in appearances often, taking you out on a series of other mind-bendingly good dates and showing up to your dorm on school nights with homework and small, thoughtful gifts like bottles of tea.

Through his efforts, he’d become something like a close friend.

You’d discovered over the course of your time together that Shouto wasn’t as quiet and serious as you’d initially suspected him to be, and you quite liked the sides of himself that he chose to unveil. He had a tendency to be blunt and was strangely oblivious given how observant he could be, and he had a little bit of a short fuse when the match was properly lit. He was still kind and thoughtful for the most part, but as he grew more comfortable with you it was like a flip sometimes switched and out crawled an inner gremlin, eager to tease and fluster you.

To your eternal mortification, he’d most definitely caught on to the fact that kissing you was the fastest way to fluster you, though in your defense, being kissed by a man who had no romantic interest in you was certainly a mind-boggling concept in and of itself. He’d thankfully only kissed you a few other times--once, weirdly, when you’d been almost sure no one else was around--though he sometimes watched you with a look in his eye like he was scheming up ways to make it happen again.

He was a very convincing fake boyfriend.

You had agreed to follow him to quirk training the following evening, and showed up to take your place on the sidelines of beta field that afternoon in a thick coat with a thermos of warm tea. Deep in your bag, you’d embarrassingly stowed an extra for Shouto, a habit formed by all of your time spent together.

He was there when you got there, clearly having come straight from class, and huge walls of ice already dotted the field, one or two twisted into melting spires. Slick trails of water ran down their sides where he’d blasted them with his fire, pooling into the cracks of the earth at their bases, and singe marks scored the grass around them.

Shouto seemed to brighten when he caught sight of you, and he came padding over to where you were making yourself comfortable on the cold ground.

“Anything in particular you want me to test out?” he asked, but you shook your head, unearthing a notebook and a pen from your bag.

“No, just do your thing,” you said, uncapping your pen. “I’m just looking to observe how you usually move around and channel your quirk. I rewatched all the sports festival footage from the last couple years but your style changes wildly between them, so I want to get a feel for how you currently do things.”

He looked somewhat embarrassed. “You watched those?”

You let a teasing smile flit across your lips, curious to see what kind of mood he was in today. “Oh yeah. Loved the one where you got totally stomped by Bakugou.”

To your amusement, his eyebrow twitched. “I let him win.”

Men and their fragile egos. You suppressed a smirk and stretched leisurely like a cat in the sun, tipping your face back to look up at him. “Sure you did.”

A look of annoyance passed over his handsome features, and he huffed, taking a threatening step closer to you. Something glinted in his eye, and that was all the warning you had before he leaned down and pressed his mouth over yours.

You instantly dropped your pen, fisting a hand in the jacket of his uniform to pull him closer. It briefly crossed your mind that no one was around to observe the two of you, and that this kiss was perhaps wasted effort on his part, but then he did that thing with his tongue you liked and all rational thought fled from your brain.

Shouto kissed all the sass straight out of your mouth before drawing back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“I’ll thank you to keep quiet,” he said, and you could only stare at him dumbly as he smirked and made his way back onto the field.

Confusion eventually washed over you as he set about practicing with his quirk, and you could only pay half a mind to what he was doing.

What had that been about? You checked your periphery to confirm that no one else was around to have witnessed his assault on your good sense, confusion only mounting when there was no one in sight. You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you, but that kiss had felt like something a real boyfriend would do to shut a mouthy girlfriend up. Was he getting so used to your little charade that he hardly minded? Did it affect him so little that it hardly troubled him at all?

You pushed your thoughts down for examination at a later time, forcing yourself to keep your mind on Shouto’s quirk training.

You took careful note of the graceful way he moved, the raw power with which he released both sides of his quirk. He was faster than almost anything, able to maneuver around the field with deadly precision, unbelievable power called to his fingertips within seconds and wielded with brutal efficiency. He was, much like his quirk, two halves of some contradictory whole, combining incredible strength with unexpected elegance to create a combat style that had quite likely never been seen before.

You sketched out several notes on his movements and jotted down a couple vague ideas for support items that came to mind as you watched him.

After a while, Shouto seemed to come to the conclusion that you’d had enough time to observe him and started messing around instead, creating enormous ice waves to slide down for your amusement, looking like a very strange surfer on some still mass of ocean. You laughed as he shot down a slope faster than he’d clearly expected, throwing up another hill of ice to slow his descent.

He came sliding over to you, huffing a little after hours of exertion. “You’re acting like you’ve seen better.”

You smiled. “You just looked funny.”

That wry twist at the corner of his mouth was back. “You do it, then.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He held out a hand, wiggling his long fingers. “You’ve had your fun judging me from over here. You do it if you’ve got opinions.”

A stab of panic shot through you. “Absolutely not.”

Something like a challenge glinted in his eye and he surged forward, scooping you up into his arms easily. You panicked, instantly trying to twist out of his hold and get him to drop you, but he just walked back onto the training field, one arm barred across yours in a steely hold. You tried to get a foot against his hip but his grip was too tight to allow you movement enough to do it.

“Shouto, you had better drop me or I will straight up murder you,” you grit out, gripping his sleeve in terror as a crackling noise started where his feet met the ground.

“You had better hope I don’t,” he tossed back as a platform of ice formed under his boots, carrying you up to the top of one icy wave. Your rise was horrifyingly quick, and you were torn between being absolutely terrified and impressed that this is how he maneuvered around all the time. You gripped him in horror.

“I will never forgive you if you do this,” you threatened, staring down the steep drop hundreds of feet to the ground. “Nothing you could ever do will make up for a betrayal like this.”

“I have some ideas,” he said. Then he took a step off the top.

You became aware of a piercing scream and realized it was coming from you. You wanted to press your face into Shouto’s chest and close your eyes but you were too terrified to even look away from what was happening as the two of you slid down the ice at hundreds of feet per second, hurtling at the ground like a rocket. You couldn’t believe you had laughed at him if this is what it felt like to do what he did.

You felt Shouto tense underneath you, and the arm under your legs flashed notably colder, before another layer of ice formed, evening out the wave into a less precipitous curve, slowing your slide and carrying you easily to the field. Gravity seemed to catch up to you again and you slid down a little in his arms. Your heartbeat pounded in your chest and your hands clenched in the fabric of his costume, even as you slid to a stop, soft grass rustling underneath his boots as he stepped off the ice.

“You’re a dead man, Shouto Todoroki,” you promised, hands still fisted at his sleeve. And he was, just as soon as you could let go of him.

Another smirk crossed his infuriatingly handsome features and you found yourself a little mesmerized by the sight of him.

He hefted you higher in his arms. “But if I was dead, how would I do this?” he asked, then pressed his mouth to yours again.

Well, he certainly had your number. Your plans for murder were instantly wiped from your brain like notes from a whiteboard, and you moved a hand to his collar to pull him down to you. His mouth was hot and he was excruciatingly gentle, working you over thoroughly, until you could hardly remember your words, never mind a flawless plot for murder.

Shouto shifted carefully and you became aware of grass under your back. Then he was moving over you, pressing you into the field with the solid weight of his body. His mouth left yours to pepper a trail of kisses in a slow line down your neck, and those long fingers tugged down the zipper of your jacket, coming up to pull down the collar of your sweater to allow him better access.

You squirmed mindlessly under him, letting out surprised little gasps whenever he found a spot that you particularly liked. The chill of the evening washed over you and you pressed yourself into him for warmth, sighing when his left side flared hotly. He bit down carefully over your pulse where it beat wildly in your throat.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and a vague thought came to you like this was somehow strange for the two of you to be doing, some reason why you shouldn’t be. You couldn’t remember why. “Tell me if I should stop.”

He pressed his mouth back to yours again, a calloused hand making its way up the side of your sweater and disconnecting your thoughts again. This felt too good to be wrong, why shouldn’t you do this? A thumb brushed under the fabric of your bra, catching a nipple, and you jerked under him, letting out an embarrassing noise. He made a noise low in his throat and did it again, tensing when you shuddered under him again.

He let out a harsh breath, then your sweater was torn upwards and your bra quickly followed, a warm mouth closing over one nipple. You swore, the heat of his mouth so unbelievably good against the cold air, arching into him as he swirled his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you managed, fingers tangling desperately in his hair. You hooked a leg over his hip, anchoring him against you harder. Your own hips raised without any input from your brain, and you swore again when one of his thighs pressed tightly to your core.

He moved to your other breast, laving over the hardened peak, two toned eyes watching your face with undisguised interest.

“Shouto,” you gasped out, drawing him back up to you to kiss him. His chest pressed into yours, the strong line of his body pinning you down everywhere, and the weight of him was unbelievably wonderful over you. Why had you ever thought you shouldn’t do this?

A blinding light suddenly flickered on over you, searing even through your eyelids where they’d fluttered closed. You jerked apart in shock. Blinking blearily, you realized it had grown dark and the field lighting system had just kicked in.

Shouto sighed and crawled off of you, leaning back on his knees to stare down at you. You blushed, the implications of what you’d just done pressing down on you, realizing your entire chest was exposed to him in the harsh light. You yanked your sweater back over you, struggling a little bit to get the band of your bra back down. Shouto placed a hand on your hip.

“Uh,” he said, something like a flush rising to his own cheeks, “That’s what you get for laughing.”

You choked out a shocked laugh, staring up at him. “That’s what I get for laughing?”

He smiled again, climbing to his feet and pulling you up with him. “I imagined my girlfriend would be more supportive.”

You gathered up your bag, hardly daring to look at him. “You picked the wrong one then, I think.”

His smile turned soft, something almost private. “I think I did okay.”

Warmth flashed through you again and you had to push down the well of thoughts that bubbled up inside you like a spring. You tried to ignore the niggling at the back of your brain as bid your goodnights and went separate ways to your dorm buildings. One thought refused to be pushed aside, however, following you as you made your way to your room, lingering as you readied for bed and turned out the light. You couldn't sleep for a long time as you tried to dredge up an answer.

What the hell had that been?

#bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #fanfic #todoroki x reader #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #smut

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years

Text

i can’t hold you now (and god, it kills me)

rafael barba x female!reader. based on “townhouse incident (season 17, episode 10).”

word count: 12,500

rating: mature, for the pain that comes when someone you love is just out of reach (canon-typical mentions of rape, and tw: vivid depictions of assault and rapes in progress, blood, guns, hostage situation. not fun).

The call from Liv isn’t exactly unexpected – you’re about halfway across town to pick her up anyway, and you’d shot her a text that had gone unanswered about her preferred coffee order. The day is for the two of you. However, the request is an odd one, or at the very least, inconvenient.

You hadn’t anticipated the invitation, and like a lot of things in SVU, it came last minute. If anything, you’d thought Dodds would’ve gotten the invite, considering that he was her sergeant. But, something about your interest in the technical aspects of the jobs, the medical aspects of the jobs, hell, the lab as a whole, had caught Liv’s eye, and so when these innovations came up, a new way to look at DNA, your name was always on the list. It was an honor, and spending the day with the lieutenant never disappointed.

You answer her call with a smile. “Hey, I’m on my way, I promise. I just needed the caffeine boost for another day of lectures,” you tell her. Your voice is light, and the clock in your car tells you that there’s plenty of time. “Like, ten minutes?”

Your boss’s little chuckle is light, but there’s something strained in it. “Not a big fan of those seats personally, but. We’ve got to make a stop first.”

You reach down for your iced coffee, taking a long gulp. The sweetness on your tongue makes you smile, mainly because you can see Barba wincing at the sugary mess you insist on downing.

Rafael Barba. The A.D.A. for the Special Victims Unit, the transfer from Kings County, Harvard Law graduate, Bronx native… and your boyfriend. Even thinking it makes you smile around your straw.

It’d started off like anything else, you and Rafael. Meeting in the squad room after you’d joined up. Bickering and squabbling, different people with different worldviews in high stress situations. The amount of times Liv’s eyes had rolled at the two of you bickering could’ve broken world records. (Amanda was known for leaving the room with her hands up in the air when the two of you got particularly biting, especially if Carisi was added like a cherry on top.)

But then you’d watched him soften. Watched his way with the victims soften, watched his eyes soften. Watched squabbling and bickering turned into standing side-by-side and making snide comments from the other side of one-way glasses. Energy against turned into energy together, and the two of you became a duo that could convince a defendant of anything in those interrogation rooms.

(“At least they’re being productive,” Fin had snarked to Liv, as the two of them watched the interrogation unfold. “Last time they fought paperwork got held up for a week just to spite him.”)

And then the other shoe dropped, as it always did, with a case.

Squabbling turned into standing over his desk, facing him down over a file. You’d stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands gripping his mahogany desk.

“I will not stand by while people we promised to protect are thrown aside in the name of the law.” Your voice hadn’t even dared to waver, and he had stared right back.

His eyes had scanned you. Up, down. Narrowed, sharp, and you braced yourself for the return volley. And then he’d stared right back.

His hand reached out to cover yours. Squeezed it.

“Trust me. Neither will I.”

(The first kiss didn’t happen, then, but it came pretty soon after.)

Rafael’s a good boyfriend, even though sometimes his work prevents him from being as attentive as you know he wants to be. But there’s a catch, because there’s always a catch – you haven’t exactly told anyone yet.

At first it’d been just because it was easier. Because how can you tell the squad what you are when you don’t even know? But when long nights turned into early mornings, and conversations turned serious, it became the only way. To protect yourself, to protect the team, you needed to keep it separate. These two things could not mix, or else disaster would surely come of it.

(“I don’t even want to think about what Carisi will say,” he’d told you one night, fingers running down your arm, and you’d snorted before rolling over to kiss him, shut him up.)

So the now is like this: the day ends, he’s Rafael, and he teases you and tempts you and kisses you. The day begins anew, and he’s back to Barba, and you have to settle for good enough.

Even though he’s more, all you can be is colleagues in the squad room, in interrogations, during debriefs with Liv. Any affection you want to show has to be bottled up until those precious moments alone. It’s exhausting, but worth it, getting to know Rafael, and getting to really, truly care for him.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to the present. You finish your sip, raise a brow. “What kind of stop?”

“A favor.”

You slowly pull up to a red light. The coffee is down. The phone is in the passenger seat and jolts at little at the stop, so you reach for it, turn the speaker off. When you hold it up to your ear you can catch the little things: the rustle of Olivia’s hair against the microphone, Lucy’s voice behind her, something that sounds a lot like Noah babbling.

“What’s up?” You shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of the gun on your hip.

“Lucy works with another family, asked us to check in one them. Said the mother had bruises around her neck, shooed her away after saying that the kid was sick and the husband yelled at her.” Liv’s voice is tense, and you feel your shoulders rise a little. Your jaw clenches, too. “So, can you pick me up?”

Domestic violence cases always have your anger flaring, the thought of those victims stuck and unable to get out. Your sigh is short, sad. “Yeah. I’ll grab you and we’ll head over.”

“Thanks.” She signs off, and suddenly the sugar in your coffee feels like it’s churning in your gut.

For a moment your hand runs over your phone’s screen. Wakes it up from its brief sleep, ready to text Barba – to text Rafael – the update. Might be a little late. Favor called in. But then the light turns green, and you toss your phone to the side, sighing.

You’ll do it later. After the visit. When all is said and done.

Olivia knocks. It’s loud, repetitive, sure to get the attention of whoever’s home. Your hands slide into the pockets of your jacket, your toe tapping on the concrete.

“Did Lucy say anything else?” you ask your boss, but before she can answer the door opens. Slowly, carefully, and you find yourself looking over every detail the woman who peeks out offers.

She looks exhausted, first of all. Her eyes are watery, and you can clearly see the bruising. One hand is holding the door open, the other hidden. You wonder if there’s bruising there, too, and your hands in your pockets clench into fists at the thought of someone hurting her.

“Hi, Lisa.” Your boss greets. Her smile is small, but there’s something urgent in the way she does the same scan. “Olivia Benson.”

“Right, Noah’s mom,” Lisa responds, and she’s quick to tell them that Lucy’s not there.

Liv has perfected the concerned friendliness, and her head tilts a little at the assumption. “Well, actually, I stopped by to speak with you.” With a gesture to you, Liv introduces you as a friend, and you offer your warmest smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Crivello,” you say. “How’re you doing?”

“Well, Luca’s sick, so – so it’s not really a good time,” she stammers out, and you glance towards your lieutenant, who seems unfazed. When you look back, though, you see the injuries add up. The span of the bruises. The little marks on her face.

“You have a little cut, over your eye,” you tell her. Your hand starts moving to your bag for something to dab at it, clean it up.

But Lisa just shakes her head. She looks even more teary, close to letting them fall as she pulls back a little from the door. “I should go…”

Again, Liv just looks at her, and you see her brow furrow for a moment. “Well… how about we come back later? Is that all right?”

Suddenly the two of you hear a voice from behind the mother. It’s quiet, but firm.

“Let them in.”

It’s like a switch is flicked. The uncertainty gives way, and suddenly, Lisa acquiesces. Glances down at her feet for a second before opening the door wide, and the two of you smile at her as you’re let into the apartment. But your eyes see almost nothing before something clocks you in the back of the head, and you hear Liv’s cry as she’s shoved back against the door.

There’s a clatter, but the room doesn’t go black. The hit just grazes you, fortunately and unfortunately, and you stumble forward into arms that are anything less than welcoming. A woman has Lisa, a guy with sweat on his brow has Liv against the door, and a third is the one who’s grabbing you. Your vision is blurry, and your ears are ringing, but you can see Liv lift her hands, see her look both of the captors in the eye.

There’s another girl, you realize. She’s young, a teenager, and when your eyes meet hers you can see her tears. The whole room comes into some kind of focus, and when you take it in your heart starts to sink.

Oh, fuck, what did the two of you get yourselves into?

Instincts start kicking in quick, even in your daze. Your hands test the strength of the guy behind you, which makes his grip turn bruising, and you hear the shouts of the men as they tell the two of you to drop your bags.

“Who the hell is she?!” one of them hisses, and your whole body shivers at the feeling of breath on your neck. “Who are they?!”

“My name is Olivia Benson.” There’s a shake in her voice, the adrenaline, the high, and your eyes blink a few times to focus in on her.

“Liv –“ you call out, but her eyes meet yours suddenly. She glares, and you go quiet, once again feeling those hands tighten on you. It’s as good as an order from her.

“We’re here by chance, okay, but the both of us are New York City police officers.”

The panic on them in clear, and you feel one of the hands holding you start to roam against your waist.

“Fuck, man, this one’s armed,” says the man holding you, and Olivia just sighs, nodding.

“I am, too. Okay? I am, too. I’m telling you now, do you understand?”

“Ralph,” the guy next to Liv says sharply. He’s jittery, and you see a bead of sweat drip down his brow. “Come take this.”

Your guy just stammers out something. “But I’ve got her, Joe.”

There’s no warning, from Ralph or from Joe. One moment, you’re being held to keep from struggling, and the next there’s another hit, this one against your temple. Liv’s voice is the last thing you hear as you crumple, and your mind goes blank, the room going dark.

When you stumble to consciousness again, it’s to the sound of sobbing. Your head is slumped forward, and the taste in your mouth is copper.

“Fuck,” you hiss. Every movement feels like fire, and when you blink your eyes open it’s to see one of the men, Joe, jostling the teenage girl in his arms, they’re moving towards another room. She’s screaming, Liv and Joe are talking, and Roxie is yelling. The cacophony of her voice and everyone else’s makes you wince and groan again.

“Roxie, this is on you. Let me in there,” Olivia all but snarls, and you see her get clocked across the face. Watch her stumble, get shoved on the bed. You’re pinned to the bed, you realize, as you try to reach for your lieutenant. Tied around it, your ass on the hardwood floor.

“Liv,” you whisper, and your voice makes her pause. You’re awake, after all. But the look she shoots you is sharp. She wants you to let her handle it, you realize. Throw herself in the line of fire.

Yeah, you think to yourself, unlikely without your company.

Joe. Ralph. Roxie. The trio that broke in. Ralph is… gone, now, nowhere in sight, and… where’s Lisa? Your eyes blink a few more times, the sounds around you ratcheting up to full volume as you wake.

There’s someone else here, another voice, so painfully young. A memory swims to the surface as your head swivels from side to side – Lucy takes care of their boy.

Liv hasn’t moved since she got hit, hasn’t said a thing, but the screams are raucous. They make your head spin, and Roxie only adds to it when her frustration reaches her limit.

“Can’t you just shut up? God, make him shut up,” Roxie snarls, and you blearily blink so you could turn to look at Liv. Her eyes are like daggers at the woman, who looks frantic at the noises Luca is making, the sound of… his sister…

Begging for his own sister’s life.

God. You feel sick, and combined with the concussion you’re trembling.

“You’re gonna need to untie me to do that, aren’t you?” your boss almost whispers. She’s frustrated, pulling at her restraints as her will battles Roxie’s. “Please, I’m not going to do anything stupid, just let me help the boy.”

When you look back at Roxie, she looks helpless. Even with the gun in her hand. And when she moves to untie Luca and Liv, cutting off her restraints, the sigh of relief you let out is audible, even with Roxie’s whisper threat over your head.

So Liv goes. Goes to Luca, quiets him, and her voice is so gentle. It makes your lower lip tremble, the way she cradles him against her, reaches for his iPad so he can send the world away. He doesn’t deserve this, not even a little, but Liv is there for him anyway.

Leaving you to stare down Roxie.

“You wanted this?” you mutter, and the woman’s attention shoots to you, her gun shaking ever so slightly in her hand. “It’s on you, like she said. All of this, right now.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, and Liv looks up, too, lifting from her spot next to Luca, who is thankfully engrossed in a movie.

“This can’t be the way you wanted things to go down,” she adds, and she’s able to stand to her full height, dwarf the woman who looks nothing more than a girl. Uncertain, even in her arguments.

“You don’t know me,” Roxie snaps back, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t want to, if you’re fine with your boyfriend raping a sixteen-year-old girl,” you hiss. Her gun shifts between the two of you, Olivia staring her down, you glaring up from your spot on the bed. “Do you even hear that? Do you hear what he’s doing to her, that sick son of a –”

“Well, Joe does Joe, and I do me, so you better sit down.”

“You can save yourself,” Liv tries, but the girl just raises her voice, pulls back. You duck your head to hide the frustration on your features, the clench of your teeth as Liv’s phone chimes.

When Roxie moves to it, you look up at your lieutenant, who spares a glance down at you. You must look a mess, because you can feel the slow throb of your temple, the stickiness of your hair that’s surely from blood. You can smell it, on you, but even after all of it, you offer a smile. A small grimace. And when Liv turns toward Roxie again, her toe taps yours.

“Who’s Lucy?”

Liv freezes. You see her shoulders tense, and for the first time since you’ve woken up another name dances across your mind. Noah. Oh, god. All of this, and Liv has Noah, and your stomach rolls again.

Your boss is quick. Her minds works, and as you blow hair out of your face she’s reaching for the phone.

“She’s my sitter. She’s also Luca’s sitter, and she needs to talk to me. She needs to know about my son’s daycare pickup.”

Wait. Pickup? It’s… it’s what, 11:00 in the morning? Your mind swirls with confusion, but in shock you realize that Roxie is handing her the phone, that Roxie is letting her text back. Your eyes widen, and quickly you duck your head.

It’s almost in prayer, you realize. With your hands tied behind you, with the feel of them going numb against the metal that’s hot from your own body heat.

Please, Lucy. Whatever she tells you. Get it to the right people.

Suddenly, a face swims to mind, and your eyes widen, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. Liv is surely thinking about her son, but all you can think about is Rafael.

Please, Rafael. Please be the right person.

The wake-up call in the morning is a text, and Rafael Barba blinks blearily at the message. It’s almost habit that makes his lip curl up in a smile, and when he throws off the sheets it’s with a preparedness for the morning he almost never has.

Perhaps it’s just the expectation of coffee. These huge events usually have a few cups for him to help himself, too, and he knows the sight of him downing them will make your lip curl in disgust. Or maybe it’s the knowledge, knowing that going to this DNA conference will make him a better lawyer, a better advocate for the victims.

Or maybe, it’s just that the text is from you.

You’d been a surprise, when you’d met him. A veritable source of conflict on one hand, with snappy words soothed by smiles. A disregard for the courtroom, in more ways than one. A capable detective, who had a tendency to follow instinct whether it helped or hurt. At least, that’d been the pitch.

Of course, because it was Rafael, the start had been shaky. Bickering and bantering over everything and nothing. More than once Liv had to shut the two of you up with a raised hand and a raised brow, since gut collided with a man who wore suspenders and a belt.

(“If the two of you don’t get it together, I’m throwing both of you out,” she’d threatened one eventful evening, her voice very reminiscent of the tone she took with Noah. An unsteady peace was made through the end of the week.)

But just like the squad, just like Rollins, and Carisi, and Liv, all it took was one case.

One case to turn the tide.

From there, it’d grown. Moments alone, somehow snagged against all odds. Him and you in a side room in the courthouse, talking about deals. Visits to his office to break the monotony, banter and bribe with snack to take a break. You became a friend, first and foremost, and from there it slotted into place.

Didn’t take long for him to realize just how much he’d fallen for you. A kiss sealed the deal, Rafael finally working on instinct. But while the short-term was brilliant, the long-term was more… complex.

The ADA, together with a detective. Complicated to say the least, a disaster waiting to happen at most. But how could he stay away, knowing that you had a smile that was just for him? Eventually, the two of you had agreed – it would be a secret, from the squad, from the office. The only people that needed to know were you and him.

On the outside, you did your best to treat him like everyone else, treat him like before. Banter and bicker and bite. You’d slug him in the arm same as Carisi, and you laugh with him like you do Rollins, and you roll your eyes with him and Fin as the perps incriminate themselves.

But when the two of you were alone… when you knew you were alone…

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the thought of spending time with you even at work, can’t enjoy your morning texts in the privacy of his own apartment. Today is the DNA conference, after all, which is why your text isn’t surprising. He expects to see you there, you and Liv. You send him your itinerary, which matches his almost to the letter, and he thinks about you as he thinks about what to wear, thinks about you as he pours himself his coffee, and thinks to stop thinking about you as he pulls up to the conference.

And then… you’re nowhere to be found.

He double-checks the schedule you and Liv have planned out. It’s intricate, but there are overlaps. And in those sessions, he sits, thinks about saving a seat. But there’s no further texts, nothing, and that makes the lectures a bit harder to get through. He’s almost thankful for the text from Carisi, the one that pulls him up and out of his chair and out the door. Because surely this is what’s keeping you.

Got the push-in rapist.

When Rafael makes it to the precinct and immediately grabs a cup of coffee.

“What do we have?” he asks Dodds, who is the first to greet him. Not you. Or Liv. He gets filled in by the new sergeant, and by the time they make it to the one-way glass he’s noticed that the two of you are nowhere to be found. It makes his brow furrow, but soon he’s leaning against the window, watching as the man inside starts fidgeting.

“He was on top of the roof, got trapped. Had the weapon on him, too, tossed aside. It was clean,” the sergeant tells him, and Barba can’t help the lift of his brow.

“We’re sure?” he asks, letting the doubt creep in, and Dodds’ eyes narrow at the ADA.

Fin backs him up, arms crossed over his chest. “It was clean, Barba. We got him.”

There’s a bit of relief, and tension in Rafael’s shoulders drop. Fin joins the two of them in front of the window, and he nods at him. He takes a sip of his coffee, and the steps that stalk towards the squad are distinctly unfamiliar.

“Well, congratulations. You found another innocent black man.” The defense attorney is vaguely familiar, and his eyes scan the three of them with disdain (and some kind of sick glee at his own taunts). “I suppose we should be grateful that you didn’t shoot him.”

“He had a gun on him,” Fin says, no flair, just facts.

“Did he?” is the return, and Rafael looks between the two sides, brow raised. “Who planted it?”

That’s when the ADA decides then he doesn’t have time for this, and he lets his scoff sound over his coffee cup.

“Don’t troll. This is your client’s third rape. We have multiple IDs.” He says it with a confidence that he rarely gets to have, and it feels good to be able to reply with the knowledge that DNA will match, IDs will be made. Dodds again affirms the presence of DNA, forensics, and that’s that.

It could all go horribly wrong, of course, but he still has time to relish just a little in the assurances provided.

“Save it for the judge. May I?” The public defender moves smoothly into the interrogation room, and Barba watches him for a few moments before turning to Dodds again.

“Nice work.” Frank, but honest. And straight to the point. “Where’s Liv and Y/N?” he asks, casually, paired with another sip of coffee. There’s no urgency, even as he hopes that Dodds has some idea why you bailed.

But the sergeant seems unbothered, and Fin pipes up as he stands up straight, hands in his pockets. “They’re both still at the DNA conference.”

Barba stops. Pushing off of the window, stands up straight. Looks at the two officers in front of him. Smirks a little. Not a prank, he guesses. Something else came up, surely. “No, they’re not. I was there all morning. I would’ve seen them.” He doesn’t confirm how he knows he would’ve seen them, the texts from you on the cell in his pocket, but he does know that the two of you were nowhere to be seen.

And… well. That certainly catches the two of them by surprise. Dodds looks at Fin, and Fin looks back at Dodds.

“I’ll text her again,” Dodds decides. “Let’s wrap this case up, get it delivered to her signed, sealed.”

But at that point, there’s still a hesitant peace. A certainty that whatever is wrong will be resolved, wherever Liv is she’s there for a reason. Rafael finds himself hoping the same thing for you, hoping you are not far behind her, that soon enough your voice will be heard down the hall, in the elevator, your laugh pitched high among all else.

And then, the peace shatters.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem here.” Carisi’s voice is sharp, tight. His strides are long, and soon he’s across the precinct, at Fin’s desk. “Liv just texted this to Lucy, and… it’s bad news.”

Rafael’s brows inch up his head. His mind goes to the solution that’s obvious – that Carisi is overreacting. That nothing’s as wrong as the Fordham student says it is. He doesn’t even lift his pen from the paper.

And then Fin reads.

“Stuck at precinct all day. Pick up William at daycare. He has a playdate with Lewis and Y/N today.”

In a moment Barba finds his head spinning. He lifts up, looks around the room at the other men, watching as their own minds piece together the information.

William Lewis. Just the thought of him sets Barba’s teeth on edge, sets his body alight. He has to straighten so he can wrap his mind around the implication.

“William Lewis?” he repeats. Well. Says, out loud. “That’s… that’s not good.” But he remains calm. He has to remain calm. His voice is steady, even as it wants to tremble. “When did you last hear from them? From Liv?”

Barba tries to keep his cool, but he can’t ignore the way his heart is pounding. Can’t ignore the way that he turns to Dodds again. “Have you spoken to them today?” he urges, and the sergeant jaw is clenched as Rafael reaches for the phone Fin has in his hand.

His eyes scan the words. Over and over, just to confirm. He can’t help but hope against hope that Fin read it wrong, but everything is there, in black in white in front of his face. There’s a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I sent Liv a text, let her know we got the push-in rapist,” the sergeant explains. “She responded.”

“Same with Y/N. I texted her, earlier, and I got a reply,” Fin tells Barba, but there’s still something that’s got him on edge.

“But did you talk to them? Hear their voices?” He hopes the others can’t hear the break in his voice, the worry in his tone. “You didn’t actually speak to them?”

The silence is deafening.

For once, he and Carisi are on the same page. Their eyes meet over Fin’s desk. “That sounds like a 10-13 if I’ve ever heard one. It’s gotta be. Lucy said that Liv checked on a neighbor this morning?”

Dodds’ voice cuts through before Rafael’s can. “Where?”

The four men find themselves all turning to the nanny, who stands off to the side. Her worry, that brought her to the precinct in the first place, seems close to crashing over her.

“Go find out.” It’s not an order, not really, but it leaves Barba’s mouth before he can stop it. And without a second to waste, Dodds and Carisi step towards Lucy, while Barba looks down to his own phone.

It’s instinct. One tap, two, three, and there’s your name. His thumb sweeps over the screen before he presses dial, and within an instant his phone is at his ear. He’s dialed your number, what feels like hundreds of times, but the ringing stretches on and on and on. Each time it goes off, he expects the call to connect, for you to tease about calling during work hours. Can’t get enough of me at work, Barba?

When he hears your voice, he starts, wants to feel that relief, but the automated message is the only thing that’s going. His heart climbs into his throat.

One more time. He pulls back, taps a couple of times. Another call, this time to Liv. The same thing. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Message.

Nothing. He tries both numbers again, with all eyes on him, with the same result.

Two of them. Two of their own. Gone without a trace. And all Barba can think about is the name William Lewis, and the sight of it so close to your own.

Nausea rolls, and he tries one more time.

“Barba,” Fin tells him. Reaches out, fingers on his desk. “Barba.”

When he looks down, Fin’s eyes are piercing him. There’s something in them, something that makes the lawyer think the old blood knows more than he ever lets on. That Fin knows exactly what the day looks like now, and what the next case will be.

“Find out,” he manages, and tries not to think about how he’s dialed your number yet again, the sound of your automated message the definition of insanity.

Your phone is in Roxie’s hand. It buzzes, over and over again, and then the same thing happens with Liv’s phone on the chair next to her. Your captor watches it, reads the name and then the notifications on your own phone. There’s a back and forth, a pause, and then she looks at the two of you with confusion.

“Barba keeps calling. And this guy, Rafael. Why?”

Your breath catches. Liv is on the bed, her feet planted next to you, and you hear her words, vaguely. Something about work.

Then you realize Roxie is staring at you, raising a brow your direction. You swallow, blink a few times. Clear your head, offer a tight smile.

“Just… probably calling to ask about a case. Let it ring. He’ll get the… the message,” you say, and her eyes narrow at you before setting your phone down.

You feel Liv’s toe tap your leg. When you look up at her, her eyes catch yours, and you feel her gaze sweep over your face before you shake your head.

Not now, Liv.

She taps your leg again, but you refuse to rise to the bait, and that’s when the door bursts open.

Joe says something, but his voice fades away. All you can see is the girl, the way her face is vacant now. The faraway look, in her eyes, and your chest tightens at the sight of her hair, limp around her face.

Your sympathy turns to anger in an instant, as she limps over to the bed. Liv’s voice is soft to the girl, but your mouth twists into a sneer as you look up at Joe, who sneers right back.

“What are you looking at?” he scoffs, and the rage is blinding.

“Untie me and you’ll find out,” you shoot back.

“Playing hero, huh?” Roxie spits, but Joe beats her to it, glancing toward your phone.

“Got someplace you gotta be? Someone at home waiting for a detective who’ll never come back?” His threat isn’t lost on you, and your instinct is gone, replace with the impulse to lash out, kick at his legs.

A third tap, a warning shot, but it’s too late. Joe reaches for your collar, and Liv’s hands reach out to stop him, press against his chest as he lunges.

“You’re okay, Joe, it’s fine,” she urges, and his mouth goes a little agape as he stumbles back.

“What the hell, Roxie? What is she doing untied?”

“She was helping with Luca –” you snap, just as Roxie says that Liv isn’t going anywhere.

“If she does, she’ll never see her son again,” Joe sneers, and he moves to retie Liv just as there’s another phone ring. But it’s not Rafael, and it’s not your squad. It’s the third wheel, it’s Ralph, and you watch as Joe’s anger is stoked again. It’s like watching a train you know is going to crash, your eyes drawn to the disaster as it happens. Joe’s frustration is only peaked by Lisa’s demands, and your admiration for the will of a mother is tempered by the way that Joe’s voice grinds on his last sentence.

“Now get the cash, or they’re dead.”

One thing after another. Your head, still pounding, can barely keep up, your energy gone from the kick. There’s a ring at the doorbell, and Joe’s corralling Tess downstairs. You strain to listen, to hear anything, but the muffled voices aren’t ones you can recognize. When Tess comes back up, she’s shaky, and Joe screaming at her doesn’t help.

“They were cops! What the hell did you say?!”

Cops? you think to yourself, and for a moment images of your team swims across your vision. Oh, god.

“Nothing, I just told him Luca and I were sick!”

Joe’s pacing now, and Liv is standing. She reaches out for them, and her voice is so strong, so calm. You’re still on the bed, attached, but you force yourself to breath in and out, to look up at Joe with Liv and try to talk him down.

“Now is the time for you guys to go,” she whispers.

“You need to stop talking,” Joe hisses, but your voice chimes in before he can think too much.

“This is only the beginning,” you add. It’s what you have to do. Make him think, make them second guess. Your hands pull at your restraints to no avail, and you huff out a breath to move the hair in your eyes. “You guys should get out of here, while you still can.”

“What do you mean?” Roxie asks, but she’s silenced by Joe. Your anger at him only grows at the way he grips her tight, enough to bruise her wrists.

“They are cops – both of them, do you fucking hear me? She is lying to you, and everything that comes from her mouth is a lie.”

“Joe, there is no perimeter,” Liv urges. “Look outside. There’s no one out there. If you sneak out the back, they won’t find out who you are.”

The conversation ends with one last word from Joe. A knife in his hand pointing at all you, even Roxie. “And we’re not going anywhere until we got the money.”

The next hour is ruthless. Your concussions settle in, and you keep having to force your eyes open as Liv moves to sit next to you. The lights and the sirens are relentless, and every so often you can’t help the groan that leaves your lips at the pain.

Liv’s at the bed, too, with Tess and Luca, and a hand reaches out to you. You hear Luca’s voice, soft and gentle. “Is she gonna be alright?” he asks your boss, and before she can answer you look up at them with a shaky smile.

“Hey, buddy. Yeah. I’m – I’m fine. Just. Just got a bit of a headache. Go back to your movie, okay?”

You try to ignore the way that Liv’s hand presses on your shoulder, the way you can feel her urge for calm through the touch. Try to forget that for a few minutes, that’s the only thing grounding you, her fingers on your skin and the knowledge that your friends are out there. Your family.

And Joe? Joe’s on the edge. His fingers keep messing with the blinds, keep pulling them down and shoving them aside when the sight of the cops steadily piling into the street overwhelms him. You watch his hands go to his hair, pull, and drop back down to his sides, watch his sweat drip down his forehead. He looks manic, he looks pissed, and Roxie’s whispered doubts only do that much more to drive him mad.

“Let Richard go,” Liv urges, at one point. “Let the kids go. Keep me – I’m your best asset.”

Oh, no, you don’t, Liv, you think. Not while you’ve got Noah.

“Keep me,” you press. Your hands are still tied, so you push forward with your shoulders. “I’ll do whatever you need to do, but if you let the kids go, if you let Richard go, use me as a bargaining chip.”

“Y/N,” Liv warns, but you pull forward again, the zip-tie digging into your skin.

“They won’t come after you if I’m inside,” you urge. “Liv’ll make sure of that. Keep me, Joe. Keep me, and… and I can get you out of here.”

But before you can push anymore, Joe is shaking his head. Roxie looks frantic, and their voices drown each other out.

“Just shut up!” is the shriek that stops her, but Liv is reaching out to him again.

“Joe. Just let the kids go.”

“Will they stand down?” Joe snaps, suddenly, at Liv. You sigh out a groan, as Liv just shakes her head. “No. Not unless they hear it from you. You’ll call them, tell them to stand down. You’re going to get us out of here.”

“Joe, they’re not going to stand down,” Liv tries, but soon her phone’s in her hand, anyway, and there’s a gun to your head. You wince, tears springing to your eyes as you squeeze them shut. Liv’s voice catches in her throat.

“There’s – there’s no need for that, Joe –“

“But I’m not playing. Call them.”

“Okay. I’m calling my sergeant. Speaker is on.”

When the gun is pulled from your head you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You gasp for air, and when the phone call goes through, Mike’s answer is drowned out by your own breathing.

At the mention of a negotiator, he loses it. There doesn’t seem to be anything that doesn’t set him off, and Roxie can’t calm him.

“No, I want to get out of here,” he snaps, and your voice comes out raw.

“We have to negotiate, Joe.” You’re begging him, begging him to see reason. “We have to, if you want to survive.”

Liv fills in the gaps. “You have a family in here, Joe. You have two police officers in here. They will burst in here if you do not negotiate. That is where we are.”

“So – so who do you trust?” the asshole sneers, and the gun points to Liv, nudges against her shoulder. “At the NYPD.”

“My squad,” she responds immediately. Your heart warms, for a moment, before the chill of Joe’s voice freezes it again.

“Oh, no. Someone with more pull.” You watch Joe lean close to Liv, watch his breath puff in her face. “So I’ll fucking ask again. Does anyone at the NYPD care if you both live, or if you die?”

You look up at her. You can see her thinking – her eyebrow twitches for a moment, her gaze drifting over the scene before her.

“What about that Barba guy?” Roxie asks, pointing her gun between the both of them. “He called both of them, he obviously seems to give a shit –”

Your heart climbs so high in your throat you choke on it. Liv’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and thankfully speaks before you can stammer out an indication in the negative. “No. Ed Tucker. He has pull.”

You try to hide your shock, the way his name twists your lips. There’s history there, more than you know, and Liv looks to you, brow furrowing, a silent plea. Something passes, between the both of you, a mutual understanding. About what it means to be someone that either of you care about.

This is what needs to happen. To get the both of you out. The both of you safe, to those who care about you the most.

“Ed Tucker, Joe. He’ll get you what you want.”

The street outside the brownstone looks like a battleground – the armored vehicles and lights flashing on closed windows.

Rafael’s steps are quick through the organized chaos, shouts from other officers as they directed the traffic around the area filling his ears, exhaust from engines rising up into the cool air. But there’s no time to linger, catch his bearings. He can only feel lost among the uniforms and bullet-proof vests. There is only the task at hand, the thought of you pushing him to keep one foot in front of the other.

And if his hands start shaking, well, that’s what pockets are for.

He sees Dodds in the distance, the man standing half a head above any others in the area. He makes quick work of the terrain, weaving through armored bodies, and soon he’s beside the man, who greets him with a tense nod.

“Where are we?”

“Ralph Volkov. Assault, drunk driving. Fired by the Crivellos’ after two failed drug tests.” Dodds is to the point. His steps are quick, and Rafael feels like he has to take two keep up with him. They’re on a fast track to the command center, and Rafael tries to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“A revenge plan?” Rafael hisses. It’s in disbelief, in horror. All of this because of some grudge? Your life over a job as a truck driver? “Do we think he’s in charge?”

“He’s not the ringleader. Through here,” Dodds tells him, but before the sergeant can reach for the door the counselor’s voice stops his hand.

“Dodds. Where… where are we?” When he asks again, he doesn’t mean for his voice to tremble, but it’s fraught with the emotions he knows he’ll need to put away.

The sergeant takes a moment. Ducks his chin, before giving an answer. One without fluff, or pomp, or poise. Just the truth. “As far as we know, they’re both there, conscious. Okay, as of a few minutes ago,” he murmurs. “But we don’t know what okay means. They’re alive. We caught a glimpse of them, both of them, through a second-story window. Some bruising, bleeding. But… the one with the phone is hopped up on something, and. We can’t get a rapport. Not a real one.”

“But we’ve heard them?”

When Dodds glances back, it’s with a sigh. Rafael tenses. “Just Liv. Her phone is the one they’ve been using. To make the calls. But she’s told us that they’re both okay, and I trust that… she knows what she’s doing.”

Rafael’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but Dodds doesn’t see. He’s already pushing forward, into the armored truck, leaving the lawyer’s thoughts scrambled. Your voicemail message seems to sing in his head. But the spiraling has to stop, and so he forces himself forward, through the door, chin lifted and steps long.

He can see him, at the end. One of the assholes responsible for taking you, for beating you. His shoulders straighten, and that fury is used to stalk close, tilt his chin down and glare. His presence makes the man shrink, and he relishes in that pleasure.

“Hello, Ralph. I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba. Who’s we?”

He’s pathetic, the man in front of him. Voice a mumbled mess, clothes dirty. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and he can barely look Rafael in the eye. But he answers, slowly, blinking up at the lawyer. “Me and my sister, Roxie. We needed money, for my ma, she. She needs a new hip, she can hardly walk.

Dodds says something. Rafael’s mind is on the name. Roxie. Roxie. Roxie and Ralph, the fucking dynamic duo.

Suddenly Ralph is pushing back. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone either. And Joe came along. All of this was his idea, man, not ours.”

Rafael takes a seat. He’s level with this guy, and it makes him sick to his stomach. “Uh-huh.” His voice is hoarse. Bitter. “Joe’s his real name?”

The man doesn’t respond, seems to shrink back, and Rafael finds his temper flaring, his voice going sharp. His hand reaches out to snap under the man’s nose. He sits down, and the only place he’s looking is at the dumb son of a bitch in front of him. “Ralph. Look at me. Anyone dies in there, you’re on the hook for felony murder.” He doesn’t want to think about you, about your body coming out, not your life. His vision goes a little red, and he leans close with a tight tone. “You help us or you’re gone.”

That seems to get his attention, and Ralph nods, swallowing down his fear. “Joe’s his real name. Joe Utley.”

Fin moves to the laptop quickly, looking at his sergeant. Their glance is exchanged, but Rafael’s mind is fixated on the three names he has. Ralph. Roxie. Joe Utley. All of them responsible for taking you. For taking Liv. He finds himself squeezing his knee under the table, praying for a moment that the crime he prosecutes them for doesn’t have – fuck, doesn’t have murder in the damn headlines.

And then he gets a text from Carisi. His hand goes to Ralph’s phone, next to him, and the latest text shines up. The two kids, huddled together on the bed, Liv to the side, and you… sitting against the bed on the floor, looking up. There’s blood, on your forehead. Some down the side of your neck. Your eyes look glazed, dull, and all the blood drains from his face.

When he holds up the photo, he can barely speak.

“This photo.” His voice is raspy, and his hand is almost shaking. “Is this the last time you had contact with Joe and Roxie?”

Ralph confirms it, and that’s when he has to step away. He just hears a fraction of what Dodds says. It doesn’t matter. It just confirms the filth that has you captive in that fucking building. Has to pull back, take a breath. There’s a fury within him that only builds as Ralph pushes back, refuses to cooperate when you’re inside that damn townhouse –

Fin’s voice cuts through the chaos, goes straight to the point. Tucker and Dodds and Rafael watch on, as the detective leans close, scowls at the perp. “Let me ask you something, man. Do you ever want to see your sister alive again?”

Rafael swallows at that. Looks down at his phone. Can’t watch as Dodds holds up the phone to Ralph, can’t do anything but close his eyes and turn as the hand is dealt.

And then Ralph stammers. There is nothing more useless than a juris doctorate in that moment, watching as the man turns. Admits that he’s caught, that it’s done. Nothing more horrifying than the sound of Joe’s voice on the other end of the line, a furious shout of a curse before the line goes dead. And nothing more nauseating than knowing that whatever happens next, Rafael can’t do a damn thing.

“Son of a bitch!” Joe screams, and you can’t help your wince. The noise seems to rattle your brain, and when you open your eyes again the man is leaning on the fireplace.

The four of you – including Liv and the kids – had been moved downstairs as Ralph’s absence stretched longer. And no matter how much you wanted these bastards ended, you couldn’t help your prayer that Joe would just get what he wanted. Anything to keep him sane, to keep him from using one of the kids as a punching bag, or from hurting Liv.

But with Ralph out of the picture, caught by the police… you can’t help but notice the way that your chances get slimmer and slimmer. Your eyes flick toward your lieutenant, the strongest woman you know, and you can’t help but feel the doubt. Doubt that trickles down your cheek with a couple of tears, a mixture of blood and sweat joining it.

And Rafael… your throat closes up at the thought of him, swimming around in the back of your mind. Usually such a comfort, and now the guilt kills you. The knowledge that you’d – fucking hell, that you could’ve seen him for the last…

You have to physically shake your head. Enough that Liv’s hand reaches out for you.

No. You have to see him again. You have to.

Joe and Roxie are yelling now. Back and forth, back and forth, and you want to sink further into your chair but can’t get far enough away. It all bounces in your head, and everything just as you hear Joe’s voice scream into the phone.

“What?”

The silence is deafening. Joe’s ultimatum more so. And then the phone is shoved into your hands, along with a threat for your life, the gun pointed at you.

“Ralph, and the cash, or your pretty little girlfriend dies. Or what about… what about this one? This useless bitch, huh? Not much stopping me from putting a bullet in her head.”

Your energy is used to glare up at the man. You feel Liv freeze beside you as you lift your mouth to the speaker.

“He… he really wants Ralph back in here, Tucker.”

“Yeah. I, uh. Understand that. But that’s not something we can do right now.”

Your head drops. The phone and your hand drop. And Liv’s voice is next to you, soft. “He’s telling you the truth, guys. We’re not allowed to send civilians inside.”

“All right. Then I’m done talking.”

There’s a hitch to your breath at the end of Joe’s statement, and Rafael’s hands are limp at his sides. He can picture it so vividly – he knows what Joe looks like. It’s not hard to visualize him lifting a gun and aiming it at you. Barba barely notices he starts to tremble as he anticipates the sound, that one final sound.

Luckily the finality is something that Tucker doesn’t accept. And at the sound of Joe’s request to talk to Ralph.

After all, he knows what that look on Tucker’s face is trying to tell him. He sees the way the man turns to him like he understands. With Liv on the other end, perhaps that’s what he’s hoping to convey. The urgency, the knowledge that he’s doing everything he can.

Little does he know.

There’s yelling, fighting. Tucker tries to talk them down again, but Roxie and Joe on the other end of the line are going off at each other, and then there’s a clatter. The whole room seems to wince at it, and when there’s silence on the line no one can breathe.

“Everybody okay?” Tucker asks. But even when the silence breaks, the tension is still thick. Rafael feels it clawing at his throat. And Liv’s voice on the other end, shaking, makes him lift a hand to his hair.

“Okay. So we know that Ralph’s not coming in here, but do you have his money?”

The trade develops. Slowly. Too slowly, and your name doesn’t come up once. It makes Rafael’s twitch, and by the time the final deal is made, he’s had enough of it. One person. One person, and it’s not you. It’s not you.

The door is opening, and Rafael is gone before he can think. He’s pushing out of the van and starts pacing behind the command center, muttering something to himself. He’s halfway through the recitation when he realizes it’s a prayer, and almost done with it when he sees Carisi just a few feet away, making his way to where Rafael just left.

He doesn’t stop the detective from coming closer. If anything he almost welcomes it. Carisi looks almost as harried as he is, and he can’t help the way his lips twist at the familiarity of Carisi’s “counselor” in his mouth.

“How’s it goin’ in there?” For a first question, Rafael is struck by how little he can bear to answer.

“The… the father’s in bad shape. They’re organizing a trade,” he whispers, and hates the way that his voice cracks. The way he looks up at the row of townhouses and has to swallow his fear so he doesn’t vomit with it.

Suddenly Carisi’s face softens, somehow, even more. He looks at Rafael with pity. And while the counselor wants to bristle at it, he can’t.

“We’ll get them out, counselor,” the blond promises. “We’ll get Liv, and we’ll get them out –”

But when Rafael lifts his hand, it’s to silence him. To just glare, work his jaw, and try not to shatter so completely.

“It’s not just Liv,” he spits, and the admission takes even him by surprise. “It’s not. So. Please, just.”

He doesn’t know what Carisi is seeing when he looks at Rafael in that moment. He doesn’t know what the detective thinks. But no matter all of his words, his teasing, he knows that the man isn’t stupid, and can put the pieces together on a simple puzzle.

Who else is in that fucking room? Who else could the squad lose?

“I can’t lose her.” Carisi’s jaw clenches, his whole body tensing in Rafael’s periphery. But there’s no answer, because the detective isn’t stupid.

Not enough to make empty promises.

Mike’s eyes meet yours first when he comes through the door. He reassures Joe that his demands are being met – the money, the car, the goddamn plane – but he can’t stop looking at you. Maybe it’s the blood at your temple, the way your hands are gripping armrests on the chair you’re basically strapped to. Maybe it’s the dazed look in your eye that you’re sure you have, a concussion wreaking havoc on your system. But it doesn’t matter. He can’t help you.

Joe’s orders to strip had made too much sense – forcing them down to the bare essentials to come in and get the father out. But seeing it, seeing how vulnerable Mike it makes your chest hurt, and as he stands before Joe and his fucking assault rifle basically bare, you can’t help your desire to reach out to him.

“Everything is on its way,” Mike tells Joe, meeting his gaze head on – a steady lift of the chin while Joe fidgets.

And then the vests come off, too. And you have to watch Mike leave without any protection, his back so vulnerable, and you have to watch Joe’s eyes follow him, and once he leaves the breath you let out is audible. Audible enough to earn you a glare.

“What?” he snaps, and you just shake your head, offering a smile that feels like

“Nothing, Joe. That was a good thing you just did, letting Richard get the helps he needs,” you tell him.

There’s a beat, and then before you can react he’s lunging forward, his fist and thankfully not the butt of the gun smacking you across the face.

The kids scream, a horrific sound as your head is whipped to the side, eyes closed tight as you groan and try not to look at them.

“I’m – I’m okay…”

“You’re laughing,” he hisses, bending forward. “You’re fucking laughing at me.”

“Joe,” Liv says with a sharp tone. She doesn’t come to you, but her eyes are wide as your body pulls in on itself, barely able to look up and see her through the tears in your eyes. “Joe, look at me. That was good, getting Richard out of there. The car is… is coming, okay? It is, and… when it’s here we can start working on an exit strategy.”

“I have an exit strategy. For me, and for Roxie,” he snaps. His voice is hoarse from yelling, and then the phone rings again. Joe picks it up, and he’s moving from the hall to the table and back again, the end of the line approaching steadily.

“I’m gonna send someone out to check the car. I want the keys in the ignition, I want the engine running, and I want all those ESU guys gone, y’hear me? I want a clear path!” The phone is tossed away, connection gone, and then Joe’s in front of you again, bending forward, grinning. “About time to make yourself useful.”

“Joe,” Liv murmurs, trying to reach out to him, but the gun is quickly pointing at her.

“Shut up, boss lady!” he snaps. “The both of you are gonna put the vest on Roxie, and then she’s gonna go out there and check the car.”

What else can you do but comply? Joe’s release on your restraints has you stumbling forward, but when Liv goes to get you she’s pushed away by the firearm. You slowly rise to your feet, and there’s blood falling steadily from your nose as you stumble forward.

There’s no affirmation. Joe can only hiss out a curse, and then he’s stumbling away towards the back of the house.

The front of the house feels cold. By the time you make it to Roxie it feels like an eternity, and you and Liv have to get to work buckling her up. You’re so disoriented, the world spinning, that when you realize Liv is talking she’s already halfway there.

“Roxie,” she murmurs. “You can save yourself. You realize that? Right now. your brother is out there, and you don’t have to die. All you have to do is drop to your knees and put your hands up.”

Your hands are finally free. It feels good being able to roll your wrists, but you can barely focus as you realize you’re looking up into Roxie’s eyes. Your brain stumbles through its recollection, and when you do manage to speak it’s small. Soft. So Joe can’t hear.

“Save yourself, and your brother, Roxie, okay?” you whisper. “Get out of here. For him, you understand.”

“Just – just shut up,” she snaps, and Liv buckles her in.

It’s torture watching her leave. Joe’s back now, and the phone is at his hear, while Liv’s at the window, watching. But the light from outside makes your head spin. All you can do is stumble back to a chair, count to ten, and try not to cry.

You wish you had a hand on your back right now. Someone rubbing small circles into your skin. You can hear his voice, Rafael’s, in your ear, low hums as the two of you relax on the couch…

No.

You blink a few times. You can hear Roxie’s voice over the phone. Her sharp gasp, the long pause. You hear Rafael, then, too, urging you onto your feet, urging your mind to come together for just a bit longer…

No. He’s not – he’s not there. He’s outside. He’s not on the phone, he’s not on a couch, he’s outside and waiting and you’re stuck in here. It makes you want to scream, and your fingers lift to curl in your hair.

And then Carisi’s voice filters in over the phone.

“Hey, hold up, she’s surrendering. We got her!”

Something in Joe seems to snap at that moment. His eyes are wild, the assault rifle draped over his body, and when he lifts to gun to direct it between you and Liv.

“We’re almost there,” Liv tries to tell him. But you know she’s telling you, too. You try to nod, but there’s a flash of light as you struggle to stay conscious.

We’re almost there, Rafael whispers in your head, his little smirk so clear.

Okay, Rafa. Okay.

“It’s your terms,” Liv’s saying. “You tell Tucker how to do this… we’re so close to getting out of here.” Even as your head hangs you can’t help your smile. That’s your lieutenant. That’s Olivia fucking Benson. Allying herself. Protecting you. Your everything aches and she knows it and she’s still there.

The phone rings. Tucker’s voice filters over all of you.

“Now I’m gonna need something. The kids, Joe, okay?”

But Joe’s ready. Joe’s fired up, thanks to Liv. She’s there with him, she almost smiles at him, as he ends the negotiations. He’s ready to get out of there, he’s ready to live.

She’s got him, you think. She’s got him, right where she wants him.

“Joe, we kept our side,” Tucker says. “We’ll need at least one kid.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “You get the boy. When I get into the car you get the boy.” And then his smile goes rancid, evil, cruel.

“But I’m keeping my girls.”

Rafael’s leg can’t stop bouncing. He’s made his way back inside the command center, and the hustle and bustle never stops. People are in, people are out, and all he can think about is you. All he can hear is your voice is his ear, all he can focus on is getting you out safe.

Which sucks, because he can’t do a damn thing about it.

He shouldn’t even be here. He should be home. He should be home but he hasn’t been able to move since he made it to this chair.

His fingers go to your tie. It’s around his neck, but it’s yours. One you bought for him, the burgundy something you said brought out his eyes. You’d handed it over with a wink, at the end of a day that’d had you both in the office for longer than you strictly should’ve been.

Just for you, you’d said. It was basically calling your name.

God, what’d he give to hear you calling his name.

He doesn’t have an earpiece in his ear. So he doesn’t know why the cops all around him suddenly tense up, he doesn’t know why they file out of the command center and start loading their guns. What he does know is when Dodds peeks in, Carisi’s eyes visible behind him through the doorway.

“Barba,” the sergeant barks out. “They’re coming out. Stay down and stay behind, Joe is coming out –”

Rafael’s throat closes up. “With who?” he asks, but Dodds is already gone. Carisi peeks in.

“All of them, Rafael,” he says. “Liv, the kids, and –”

Rafael doesn’t need to hear your name. He’s already up. He’s led by Carisi to a vest, he’s led by Carisi to a spot behind the line of armed officers, and all he can do is watch as everyone watches the doors.

“They’re coming out by the garden level!” someone yells, and guns are aiming before Rafael can think.

He sees you first. It’s not hard to miss you. Your hair is whipping around your head a little from the wind, and there’s...

“That’s blood,” he whispers to himself. “God, that’s blood.” It’s dripping down your face, or it was – from your nose, all over your face and mouth.

“Barba,” Carisi whispers back, and that’s when he sees the gun.

No! his brain screams. His body is motionless. The gun is against your head, and you’re walking, no, stumbling forward ahead of him.

He sees your lips moving. You’re talking to Joe – Joe, surrounded by you, and Liv, and the kids. Your hands are up.

Joe starts yelling. “Farther back! Get farther back!”

“Get back,” Carisi says, and he shouts it a little louder for the group. Everyone starts backing up. Everyone does, and Rafael watches as the four of you creep towards the car. Liv is talking now. She’s right in his ear.

And then the kids get let go. He seems a small smile play across your face, as Joe looks back at Liv.

“He’s letting both kids go!” Dodds shouts. Someone rushes up to meet them, carries them away, and Rafael watches as Joe is flanked by you, by Liv. The kids are rushed away, and the breath Rafael can take after that is minimal. It’s minimal and you’ve still got a gun to your head.

There’s talking. There’s more talking. The car is only inches away.

And then your elbow swings.

“Joe,” you whisper. “Keep the gun to my head.”

You feel the pressure against the back of your head. Right against the bruise from this morning. “Good, Joe. We’ll keep pushing forward, okay. I’m gonna keep my hands up, and you…”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth closes tightly. The inching forward is tedious, but you creep with every step. And then Liv starts talking.

“You don’t need the kids, Joe,” Liv whispers. “You don’t need them. Let them go, all right? It’s just about you and us, no one else.”

And then they’re gone. The kids. They dart away, and your eyes close tightly, the smile on your face momentary. One step closer. You can almost hear Rafael still. Almost there.

You feel Liv’s foot tap against yours as the group of you come to a halt. And when your eyes meet hers you can’t help what happens next.

There’s a mutual understanding. One that the two of you come to, in that moment, surrounding Joe, protecting him. His voice is still in your ear, but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. In that moment, it’s just you and Liv, and you see her eyes flick to Joe’s head before glancing down to your elbow.

“Get in,” Joe snaps, and you nod.

You know what she’s asking of you. You what she’s begging for. Safety for the kids, for the parents, for the nightmare to end.

“I will, Joe. I’m just gonna tell Tucker the plan.”

And you know that while she thinks of Noah one last time, steeling up her courage as the two of you shuffle towards the car, that you think of Rafael Barba.

“Get in!” he shouts, and you swallow tight.

Three fingertips against your hand give one tap.

“I’m just gonna tell –“

Two fingertips.

“Get in the damn car, you bitch!”

One finger, one more second.

His gun lifts from your head.

One smile staring up at you from his contact photo, one kiss that he gives with his hand tangled into the hairs on the back of your neck –

Go.

You throw an elbow, and Liv throws herself to the side while you drop. You hear the command, the gunshot, and everything stops as it rings in the air.

And then Joe’s body crumples. There’s a thud as it hits the ground. and you wait for the other shoe to drop. Liv’s own body falling, a new radiating pain in your side. But there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. It’s over.

“He’s got a gun,” you murmur, but it’s so quiet it’s just to yourself. You can’t speak up louder, the sound of the shot that killed him ricocheting in your head, rattling around until your eyes cross and you can’t think.

The yelling of the officers around you can’t stir you from your daze. Nothing seems like it can. You’re holding your hands over your ears to try and quiet what you can, your eyes wide as you stare at Joe’s dead body. And then it hits you, all at once. Like a fucking tidal wave.

It’s done. You’re free. And as you turn towards the crowds around you, shaky legs and a migraine making you stumble, one name is on your lips.

“Rafael?”

It starts out small. Low. Quiet. You can hear Liv next to you, calling out for Noah and people start crowding before you can think.

“Rafael?”

Another time. Louder, fiercer. You can’t see him, but you need to. You know he’s here, he has to be. Your throat almost can’t push the sound out, but it goes, fierce and brave.

“Rafael!”

And then you see him. There. You see him, you see the bright purple tie, the way he’s turning any way he can to find out where your voice is coming from. It’s almost comical, and you start laughing, a lot hysterical at the same time tears start coming down your cheeks.

Laugh. Cry. Same thing. It doesn’t fucking matter. The next thing you know you’re pushing towards him, and it takes one more turn for him to see you, to start moving through the crowd. You throw your arms around him as he does the same to you, and everything inside of you seems to fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento, estoy aqui.” But his apologies mean nothing more than just hearing the sound of his voice, pressing your lips to his mouth and neck and shoulder as you press as close as you can, hug as tight as you can, hide as much as you fucking can.

“I – I was so sc-scared,” you sob out, and that’s when your legs give out. Rafael has to try and catch you, and almost can’t, the way you go dead weight on him. But there’s nothing left to give, no more strength, and in the end he holds you as the medics rush you.

Liv’s voice fades in behind you. “I’m fine, go to her, I’m fine. Where’s Noah?” Tucker’s voice is trying to assure her that they’re getting him, that he’s coming, but then everything fades out again.

You’re so tired. God, you’re so fucking tired.

Your head hurts so bad.

Shit.

“Rafa,” you whimper out, and his shushes are gentle, one of his hand lifting to shakily push through your hair. There are other bodies around the both of you, and you try not to think about how when his hand pulls away you can see your own blood on it. Blood. Like your nose.

“Cariño,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“Got… hit. In the head,” you whisper, and that’s when everything goes black.

You wake up in the hospital. You wake up, and things are still a little fuzzy, but you wake up at all, and that’s a minor miracle. You could’ve slept for another week, you think, if the way your head is pounding tells you anything.

“Fuck,” you hiss immediately, when everything hits you all at once. The lights, the beeping, the feeling of your body, somehow weightless and heavy as hell at the same time.

“They wouldn’t let me in.”

You have to blink. The lights are still too bright, and the voice almost doesn’t sound like it’s coming from in the room. After all, Rafael’s voice was in your head throughout the last few hours of that damn mess.

Right. The townhouse.

You blink again. Rafael is sitting next to you. His eyes are on you, and he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

You try not to think about the way his sleeves are rolled up, the way he looks like he hasn’t slept. There’s a bit of stubble on his face, and you want to reach out and touch it – he’s never not clean-shaven.

“What’d you say?” you murmur. Your mouth feels like cotton.

“They took you away,” he whispers, and reaches out to grab your hand. “They took you away, out there, and… they didn’t let me in because I’m not family.”

Everything slowly comes back in.

“You’re here now,” you whisper, and he shakes his head.

“I wasn’t. Not the whole time you were... I wasn’t.”

“You were... you. You were.”

You struggle to sit up, but there’s oxygen in your nose and you can’t pull at it. You’re so weak, and everything, everything hurts. But. But the kids, Liv –

“They’re okay.” That’s when you realize that you were talking out loud, and Rafael reaches up to brush your hair back. Leans forward to kiss your forehead. “They’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Rafael.”

“The squad didn’t know. No one knew. So no one could vouch… no one knew, when your name was on there, too, with Liv, with... fuck, William Lewis...”

You’re blinking. You’re blinking a lot. Something is prickling at the corners of your eyes, and you let the tears fall. “Rafael. I’m here. I’m…”

He leans up to kiss your forehead again, and you realize he’s crying, too. You can feel something wet against your skin, and he’s holding you so close.

“You almost weren’t, and. They know now,” he whispers. “I told them. If anything ever happens, I – I need to be in here first.”

You don’t have time to process, and frankly, you don’t want to. Because Rafael is here, in your room, holding you gently, and you hear his voice in your ear just like you did earlier. You hear his little murmured prayers against your head, thanks to God, in Spanish right at your collarbone.

You didn’t tell anyone because it was safer. You didn’t tell anyone because it was easier. You didn’t tell anyone, and it still ended with you in a hospital bed.

He told them. And you can’t help but… but feel grateful.

No more uncertainty. No more secrets. No more, if it means that he gets there just a little bit earlier. If it means you know that he’ll be there.

“If anything ever happens to you,” you mutter back, “you best believe I’m beating down the doors. Family or not.”

It’s slurred, your words. Things are getting a little fuzzy, again. You think it’s something about the medicine that’s dripping into your arm. It doesn’t matter. Rafael’s holding you so tight.

“Of that I have no doubt, cariño. Now get some rest for me.”

tag list - @writefasttalkevenfaster // @hurricanejjareau // @crazyshannonigans // @goldenxreid // @teamhappyme // @chasingeverybreakingwave

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #female!reader #olivia benson #law and order: svu #my fic #tw blood #tw guns #tw rape #tw rape mention #canon-typical violence #hostage situation

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tippytopdays · 3 years

Text

Just a Typical Morning

literally slapped a fresh coat of paint on this little thing and did some proofreading, posting here because it's not really a story i feel like belongs on my Ao3

_____________________________________________________________

A snap. A small flare of light. A hiss. The light goes out with a brief spike of pain. The scent of nicotine filling his lungs, sitting there for a moment before being lazily huffed back out. He rolled the cig between his teeth, canines catching the paper.

For once, it was a slow day. Quiet too, if the silent city ruins said anything about it. No howling of some crazy Zed in the alleyways, no rushing of cars; nothing. Then again it’s probably something like, 6AM if he thought about it, since the sun wasn’t high enough yet to count as day.

Well as close to day as it could get, he assumed. It wasn’t like he knew anything else, anyways.

Deimos gripped the cig between his fingers, watching the flecks of tobacco sprinkle over the railing. The balcony was small, granted, but it was enough. Throw on a piece of metal or two along the railing and it even made for some quick cover if there was an attack. Overhead assault was harder to avoid, especially from so high up.

The end of the cigarette glowed dimly as he inhaled, smoke trailing into the air.

He didn’t like being up this early. It was too quiet.

Normally by now he would probably be going downstairs to fetch some grub from the cafeteria with Ford, talk about their evenings or whatever else would come up. Sometimes he’d be scrambling to get his gear on to check whatever combusted in the lower levels. Of course if it was the mercs just screwing around and breaking whatever had gotten mixed up with their roughhousing then he’d get upset. Fixing that shit isn’t easy you know, but it wasn’t worth straining his voice anyways; Ford could do that for him in spades.

He sighed in a soft plume of smoke. Really, what else can you do when the hired help has to be a bunch of knuckleheads, anyways?

Whatever it was, he definitely wasn’t throwing any parties for them that’s for sure. Last thing anyone needed was those guys keeping everyone up all night by being loud as fuck.

Another drag, a slight shake in his fingers as they met his lips.

His arms hurt like Hell from having to spend so long rewiring that at this point he was surprised they were even remotely steady at all. And when he thought about it him waking up at the ass end of dawn because the comms had crashed again was probably a good reason as to why he was up so early. Digging around in cramped crawl spaces was not how he wanted to spend his day; and being tossed into a late night mission on top of it was even lower on that list.

Damn his bed seemed real inviting, early morning or not.

When was the last time he’d slept in? Or just had a day off? Sure they’d had low days along with the high ones, but when did they get an actual break where they could relax? The last time there wasn’t some kind of emergency or chaos outside their doors was at least a decade ago at this point, maybe less. He didn’t really have it in him to care much, since he didn’t keep track of the days anymore. No point to it.

More smoke filled his lungs. He really should just get some extra shut eye, rest until he felt better.

But, for some reason, he couldn’t.

He’d snapped to awareness with a cold feeling of dread weighing down his stomach. It had been so strong he’d shot up, halfway reaching for the pistol at his bedside thinking someone was there. But there wasn’t. It was dead quiet, like the moments after a bad mission.

Maybe that’s why he was outside right now. The casual air helped to mask the intent in his eyes as he scanned the skyline.

A glint of reflected light from a nearby rooftop nearly made him crush the cig in his hands as he tensed. Eyes snapping upwards he focused, but relaxed when all he found was a few familiar faces among one of the many teams patrolling the area. He snorted, smoke curling around his face.

Another pull, the cold wash of nicotine a nice cleanse to the tension in the air.

He was overthinking this.

And after all they’d been through, who could blame him really? Being constantly on the run would make anyone look over their shoulder or keep a gun within reach. Still, it wasn’t like the Agency knew where they were this time. To add to it nothing could get through the blast doors even if it tried. They’d tested those well enough for him to be certain.

It was just a very quiet night and he wasn’t used to it. That had to be it.

The cig smoldered between his lips in one last drag before he flicked the used butt over the railing. Arms raising over his head he stretched with a groan, “Damn,” He muttered, wincing at the series of pops going up his spine, “Ya’d think I’m getting old with how I crack like a handful of spaghetti.”

He was done with his morning smoke anyways.

Mobility returned to his spine Deimos rubbed at his neck he turned his back to the city, meandering back inside. Hitting the switch beside the glass door to slide it shut behind him he glanced at the clock on the comically cluttered bedside table he owned. Yep, too early for him to be this awake, if the glaring red 7:37 was anything to go by. Well mostly glaring, since his cap was haphazardly draped over it when he’d tossed it there yesterday. Or last night, he didn’t look at it then because he was too busy flopping face first into bed.

A healthy gurgling from his stomach brought him out of his thoughts.

That’s right. He didn’t eat last night either. Not really any time to when you’re face first into the ugly end of some bastardized wiring job done nearly half a decade ago. He hummed under his breath.

Was it too early to get something from the cafeteria? It was still morning he supposed; maybe some breakfast sausage would be left this time since he’d be able to get there first for once. The thought alone was tantalizing despite the exhaustion tugging at the edge of his conscious.

Did he even change after all that sweatshop work yesterday?

Pulling at the hem of his tank top he took a whiff. Yep, stunk of old sweat and probably a hint of grease; he didn’t. Pants probably didn’t smell too great either but who would check those and not come off like a weirdo? A quick sweep of the cargo pants half hanging off his hips proved them to be good enough with no obvious stains or rips.

Deimos shrugged. It was good enough. At least he didn’t stink of blood or anything, otherwise Doc would be on his ass hard. Though it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell the difference in this sausage fest anyways. He’d be fine for a quick early morning bite.

Just needed to grab his jacket and boots and he’d be good to go.

Deimos scratched the stubble lining his jawline while he scanned the room. He’d taken off his jacket somewhere mid collapse but he couldn’t place where. He wasn’t one to lose things—most of the time at least—but sometimes it felt like they just up and disappeared. With his luck it would probably end up in a really obnoxious place like behind the bed or something. Not like that would happen since the thing was braced up against the wall in the corner so it had to be somewhere around here.

He paused when he noticed the distinctly leather looking lump laying on the floor beside said furniture.

Oh. There it is.

Approaching the bed he picked up his jacket off the floor. It still had some dust from when he’d been crawling through the vents last night as he swiped a hand over the shoulder. He grimaced at the sticky webbing that stuck to his fingers; a few cobwebs, too. Gross. Shaking it to clear out any excess dust he threw it on haphazardly, adjusting his pants once it was snugly over his shoulders. Belt tightened up again he’d turned towards the table and nearly tripped over his own boots.

Welp, at least those weren’t far either. Glad he’d had half the mind to take those off before crashing.

Cursing a bit under his breath he snatched his cap off the clock. With a quick sweep of his hand through his hair to straighten it a bit he put his hat on and sat on the bed, scooting his boots closer with a foot. Once they were laced up and buckled he got to his feet, ready for the day—or at least, the really early morning.

He glanced at the clock again. It blinked lazily at 8AM.

Eh, early enough. But the call of some sweet breakfast sausage was not to be ignored.

The moment he turned towards the door there was a series of firm knocks. He jumped, nearly tripping again as he cracked out, “Uh, yeah?” Damn that cig wasn’t enough apparently because his nerves must still be fried from that morning.

“Deimos, it’s me.”

His lips quirked a bit, confused. Normally, Doc only went after him when something broke or got jammed up again but a glance at the tablet resting on the table face up didn’t reveal a blinking light for a missed message. Unless something went wrong in the handful of seconds he’d been standing there then why was he trying to talk to him now of all times, “Hang on.” Tromping across the room he swiped his code in, the door opening with a hiss.

Doc was standing in front of his room, arms behind his back and head turned away as he kept his focus down the hall before turning to face him. He scanned him head to foot, “You look like shit.”

Deimos rolled his eyes with a huff, “Good morning to you too, Doc.” Leave it to him to state the obvious. Not like he didn’t already feel like crap in more than a few ways. He propped an arm against the door as he nodded towards him, “What’s up?”

2B stood a bit straighter, and just by his posture alone he had a feeling that whatever he was going to say wasn’t good, “Boss called in this morning, we have another assignment.”

Well he wasn’t wrong.

Deimos sighed, traces of smoke licking at his tongue as he tossed his head back, “Seriously? Now? Doc I haven’t eaten yet.” As if to prove his point his stomach made yet another unhappy glug. Both men glanced down, the tech sweeping a hand towards it with brows raised.

“I can tell.” Doc merely returned his gaze placidly, “Have you seen Sanford yet?”

He shook his head, “Nah. Haven’t left until now.” Though if he were to take a guess, he’d say the demolition’s expert would be working out somewhere.

It seemed they shared the same thought as 2B nodded, “I assume he might be downstairs at this hour. I did hear some commotion from one of the training decks.”

He chuckled a bit. Typical Ford.

“I want you to be ready within the hour, Deimos. You’ll get to eat when you get back. I’ll tell the staff in the kitchen to keep something in the oven for you.” He turned around, fully intending to leave before adding, “And also, get some washing done when you get back. You smell like a corpse.” With that he took his leave while Deimos scowled at his back.

Great. Of course it would be doc who’d notice.

Still he only sighed, punching the code into the panel to lock the door behind him. Getting his gear from the locker he had downstairs would only take a couple of minutes, and Ford should already be up if he was taking up a training room.

Just another day in Nevada, per the usual.

Things never really change.

#madness combat #Deimos #2BDamned #my writing #fun

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statticscribbles · 4 years

Text

Singer

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader- Soulmate AU where you can hear whatever music your soulmate is listening to

You’d grown up hearing your parent’s humming songs in secret. Your mother’s voice streaming upbeat pop music and opera ballads; while your father hissed along with the alt-rock and the country drawl he heard in his head. They didn’t need to tell you they weren’t soulmate’s; the music did that for them. They assured you that while they did love each other, and wanted to meet their soulmate’s, sometimes the world was too big, and the funds to short to get them out of the small town they called home. You worried constantly that Riverdale would trap you the same way it had them; not truly miserable, but never happy enough.

They put you in singing and piano lessons when you’re five, you drop the piano in exchanged for ballet and keep the singing until your parents decided not to drive you to Centerville for lessons; you join the cheerleading squad instead.

You’re not sure what genres your soulmate is into, their changing taste the only constant with the music. You settle into a mixture of Pop and Dance music that only grows as you join the River Vixens in high school. You enjoy singing; although you try your best to limit it to hours you know both you and your soulmate are awake. Usually they start listening to music around the time you start school, you try not to listen before then, although morning practices usually leave you humming whatever song Cheryl decided to have you all dance to. The music your soulmate listens to seems to constantly stream throughout the day, wherever he goes to school either allows music constantly or he’s sneaking it. Cheryl laughs when you hum under your breath whatever song you’re soulmate is listening to. “So your soulmate is into Indie then? How much you wanna bet he’s some pretentious hipster. Isn’t he?” “Well I haven’t met him have I?” ———————————————————————————

“Hey do any of you know the lyrics; ‘We get lost, and we get found; Now we are here, we won’t back down’ my soulmate has been listening to it on repeat for an hour.” Toni huffs and Sweet Pea nods. “They must be hanging out with mine then; my soulmate is listening to the same thing.” “Aww they’re friends like you two are, you can go on double dates.” Fangs laughs, “That’s a Josie and the pussycat’s song by the way. That means they must be here in Riverdale!!” “Hey! Wait for us!” Fangs shouts after Sweet Pea jogging to catch up to where he’s run up to, he’s stopped and turns around to look nervously at Fangs. “If she knows the Pussycat’s she’s probably a Northsider.” His face falls and Fangs rolls his eyes. “I don’t think she’ll care you’re a Southsider, the gang though, that might freak her out.” ——————————————————————————-

Cheryl had been the one to inform you the Southsider’s were coming to Riverdale. You caught your soulmate almost mockingly singing the Riverdale high fight song. You didn’t know what to expect ignoring all the rumors everyone started spreading. You much preferred to judge your soulmate for who he was when you met him, not based on everything everybody was saying. You find yourself spending more time with Kevin, he’d managed to explain his soulmate was a Southsider; you figured if the sheriff’s son was going to be with a Southsider it could be all that bad. ———————————————————————————–

It’s just your luck you managed to catch a weeklong flu when the Southsider’s are set to make their debut to the school. You trudge in still half sick but coherent enough for your parents to deem you fit to return to school. You wonder how pissed your soulmate is, you’d been marathoning every Disney movie and every musical you could find while you coughed your lungs up at home. You’re half humming a song from Heathers when Kevin and Betty pull you into a hug. “Hey no, I’m still kinda sick so I don’t-“ “You really think we care Y/N? You’ve been gone for the most exciting week ever! You have to meet all the serpents!” “I will I just have to check with Cheryl about practice this week.” -You leave after checking with her, bumping into two of the Serpents. “Sorry.” You smile at them.

“I’m Y/N, you are?” “Toni Topaz, and that’s Fangs Fogarty. Nice to meet you, you new too?” You shake your head. “No, I was sick all last week it’s probably why you didn’t.” You pause wrinkling your nose when your soulmate starts blasting some new song. “You okay?” “Yeah my soulmate decided to crank it up to like fifty on the volume apparently. That’s probably what I get considering he had to listen to Disney and half of the Broadway musical roster all last week.” They laugh along with you. “So how’re you guys adjusting? I was told it was kind of tense?” They nod walking with you to lunch.

“It hasn’t been too bad. Sweet Pea’s having a hard time adjusting.” “Our other friend, he’s a Serpent, but his soulmate goes here and has been avoiding him.” Toni clarifies. “Oh god that must be horrible, can you not talk to them about trying to help him adjust?” “Well they haven’t met yet.” “Oh, well if they’re here it shouldn’t be to hard to wrangle them to at least say hi.” “We don’t know who it is.”

“Well pick out a song for him and just have him blast it 24/7, either one of you will pick up on his soulmate singing it, or they’ll find him to complain.” “We can make him play that song she listened to all the time!” Fangs beams slinging an arm around you smiling. “You’re the best Y/N” “You’ve just met me.” “And now you’re our friend, problem solved!” “That’s not a problem.” Toni comments sitting down. “What’s not a problem?” “Y/N just solved your soulmate problem!”

“It’s not a problem, we haven’t met and we can avoid each other until she’s ready to meet.” He scowls. “Sweet Pea, just try it! All you have to do is pick a song and just blast it to her! Then she’ll either get so annoyed she’ll find you, or we’ll hear her singing it too!” “So you want me to piss my soulmate off before I meet her?” “No, pick a song she likes!” “Wow, yeah hang on let me ask what her favourite song is!” He snaps and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well then pick your favourite? Or something that reminds you of her?” You ask him and he nods. “Okay fine, I’ll start tonight.” “Tonight?” “Well yeah after the Serpent meeting so everyone can be on the look out.” Fangs beams nodding. “I’m glad I could help then.” You smile at Sweet Pea and try not to blush when he smiles back. Toni arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as you bid them goodbye.

You’re sitting in Pop’s half asleep after Vixen practice trying to not pass out before your food shows up when you hear it. You’ve only heard your soulmate actually singing about four times, but it’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. Of course the comfort of his voice is the last thing you need while trying not to fall asleep. You struggle, trying your best to focus on the actual words; you swallow shocked at the song that he’s singing.

You feel dumb for not thinking about how he caught on to your music habits as much as you have for him. You sit still and enjoy the private concert. You wonder if he picked it up from how often you’d sing it; or if it was the time that you would sing and listen to it. –Load the car and write the note; Grab your bag and grab your coat; Tell the ones that need to know.– You hum faintly, careful to not let the sound too far past your lips, you don’t think you want your soulmate meeting you like this, exhausted and caked in sweat and grime. ————————————————————————————

The song has been playing on repeat for days, anytime your soulmate seems to switch to another song he cuts himself off restarting the song once more. “Hey Kevin, you said you needed help with the sound check?” You watch as Kevin sinks into a chair in the theatre, you smile at Toni and Fangs, the rest of the Serpent’s lounging around, as well as Archie and his friends. “Can you sing?” Cheryl ask and you shrug. “I’ve been taking singing lessons since I was five, so I like to think I can.” You smile.

“Besides I don’t need to sing for a basic sound check.” Kevin coughs slightly. “So I do need to sing?” “Please, just pick something, and sing into the mic.” You nod gripping the mic and letting your soulmate sart the song for you. “ Oh Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in, Are you aware the shape I’m in? My hands they shake, my head it spins, Oh Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in-“ You’ve never heard someone harmoinze with you before but the way the voice from you head blends with yours settles the anxiety in your chest. “Three words that became hard to say, I and love and you” You pause when Kevin holds up his hand.

“That’s great.” He nods and you swing off the stage, Toni and Fangs track your movements and you make your way over to them when they wave. “What?” “Your soulmate was singing that wasn’t he.” “Yeah.” “You want to meet him?” “You know him?” Your face lights up and they falter. “You want to meet him?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” “Well; he’s a Serpent.” “Do you think I care? Wait, does he not want me?” You cant help the ice that shoots through your chest, already planning break-up songs to blast when you get home. “What no, he’s just nervous. About everything.” “Why would he be nervous we’re soulmates. I’ll love him no matter what.” “You mean that?” You nod at Fangs. “Uhh okay Pop’s at six?”He rushes out nodding to you and you nod back confused, as Toni almost shoves you to Vixen practice with her. You miss the way the rest of the Serpent’s enter through the side door, Sweet Pea scanning the crowd.

You’d been able to go home early with Toni, she’d explained to Cheryl you were planning on meeting your soulmate and Cheryl had practically shoved you out of the gym, assuring you Toni would help you pick something out to wear. “Does Cheryl really not trust me to find an outfit to wear?” “Well you’re meeting your soulmate, you have to look nice.” “If he’s my soulmate he won’t care what I wear.” “It’s not about that, imagine you meet him and he’s nothing like what you expect him to be.” “Toni I’ve been listening to his music taste flip back and forth, there’s barely any consistency, it took me years to even figure out he was in Riverdale, let alone close by.” Toni nods. “You know Cheryl and I are soulmates right? I had to listen to hours of all the Vixen practice music, before you’d actually practice. So I know a little about that, everyone does.”

“My parents don’t. They couldn’t, they can’t afford to visit to look for their soulmates.” Toni pulls you into a hug. “That’s not you, you have the chance to meet him; why wouldn’t you. Seems even him being a Serpent won’t dissuade you.” “You know him.” Toni nods. “Yes, it’s how we know to meet you.” She smiles and your eyes widen. “You know him.” You repeat and she nods laughing. “Come on, don’t want to be late.” She nudges you as you come up to Pop’s doors.

You step through the doors and Fangs blocks your view; holding out a blindfold. “Don’t say anything we’re going to take them off at the same time; it’ll be cute.” You sigh letting him tie the fabric around your eyes and walk you to a booth, you have no clue who’s sitting in it, it was the only booth away from all of the windows, probably planed by them. “Okay sit down and in three, two, one.” Toni beams and you blink adjusting to the light. “Thanks for the advice by the way. It really helped.” You look across to see Sweet Pea sitting smiling at you.

“Glad the advice could be of use then.” You try your best not to move your hands aware they’re shaking. You can tell Sweet Pea picks up on his eyebrow quirking. “My uh, my parents never met there soulmates, so this is, a bit of a big deal for me. Oh my god I didn’t tell them, they’re gonna kill me.” You look up to see Sweet Pea laughing. “What? This is serious!” He shakes his head.

“It’s not like we don’t; we live in a tiny ass town; besides we go to school, I share five classes with you. We’re not going to part ways and never see each other. Besides, I’d like to get to know you, before I go meet your parents.” “There’s not much to know.” Sweet Pea smirks. “That my dear soulmate is where I beg to differ. You’re my other half. I want to know everything about you.” “Where do I start?” “Well what’s your favourite song?” You can’t help but join in his laughter.

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somethinginthethunder · 4 years

Note

XHIAJSJS I know you already wrote stuff for Ushijima but I think your writing just made me love him even more!! Could you write a fluffy but tiny bit angsty scenario about domestic life with Ushijima that goes from him proposing, then married life, and finally they’re pregnant with a daughter? If you can set it in the time where he’s with the Schweiden Adlers then that would be perfect! 👀 🥺💞

Author’s Note: Hi there!! Don’t worry on requesting a character I’ve written before! I don’t mind :) I hope this will suffice! I also added after their daughter is born, too, it that’s alright. Thank you for the request!

Shares and feedback are always appreciated <3

Word Count: 2,324

Summary: Follow the story of you and Ushijima’s proposal, married life, and family life.

Warnings: I don’t think there are any?

---

“I love you.”

His sudden words caught you off guard. Turning your head to face him, you smiled.

“I love you, too, Toshi,” you answered.

He met your gaze, holding your hand softly as you both layed down in the grass.

It was a little date. The two of you had been together for quite a few years, and Ushijima decided he wanted to go out for the day. Of course, out of the public eye where you two were most comfortable with each other.

“I’m also in love with you,” your boyfriend added, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m in love with you, too,” you countered.

You huffed in amusement. “What’s bringing this on, love?” you asked quietly, adjusting your body to lean on your side. He was always straight forward with how he felt, but this time felt a bit out of the ordinary.

“Do you happen to remember what I promised you on our anniversary last year?” he asked.

Last year’s anniversary? “Yeah, I think I do.”

“What did I say?”

“Ah… that you were grateful I was your biggest supporter, through thick and thin?” you guessed, getting a little confused as to where this was exactly going.

“No,” he said. “Try again.”

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to remember what exactly happened that year.

“That… you were going to marry me someday?” you murmured, studying his expression carefully.

He returned his gaze to the sky once more. “Yes. It’s been awhile since then, hasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, it’s been a year,” you shrugged. “But why are you askin-”

Before you could finish what you were saying, he was already pushing himself up and off the ground. You followed in suit, with him turning to face you.

He looked handsome, with the town lights down below emitted a soft, subtle, almost nonexistent glow on his face. The moon helped out with the lighting as well while the gentle breeze tousled his hair slightly.

“You know I don’t typically make light of promises,” he continued, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

You smiled at the statement. “I know, Wakatoshi,” you agreed, nodding your head.

“Then I hope you’ll understand when I say I’d like to keep that promise I made a year ago,” he said, his left hand pulling something out from his pocket.

Everything clicked at that moment for some reason, like the last piece of a puzzle. You could already feel the tears forming in your eyes.

“Wait-”

“Y/n L/n.” He was already down on one knee, opening the small velvet box no larger than the size of his palm. “Will you marry me?”

Without thinking, you nodded your head, your hands coming up to your mouth on instinct as you said, “Yes!”

Your thoughts were stumbling over each other as you repeated your answer like some kind of chant under your breath, a few tears streaming down your face as he stood back up.

He said no other words, but you knew he was happy by the look on his face. His eyes were content and his lips were turned up at the corners in a bit of a smile.

He gently took your left hand and slipped the ring on. It wasn’t anything flashy, nor was it a boring piece. It was unique, and it was yours, and so was he.

When you were still a young teen, you had never thought you’d get married, and especially not to Ushijima. But, honestly, you couldn’t ask for anyone better. Your fiance, wow, it felt good to be able to call him that, felt just the same.

In his own brain, he would’ve never thought he’d become betrothed to anyone. He was aware of how apathetic he seemed, and how dedicated to volleyball he was. That’s why he was so thankful to meet someone like you.

You were the person who would understand if he was late for a date because of practice. You were the one who didn’t mind taking extra time to explain yourself or him to anyone else. You were the one who waited patiently for him to grow as a person and supported him as he came closer and closer to achieving his dream.

You were the one.

☆☆☆

Married life with Ushijima was almost always kind to you. He was a kind and hard-working husband, and you were an understanding and considerate wife. Most days, there was a routine. Get up, have a few good morning kisses, breakfast, both of you go to work, you come back home first, clean up a little, Ushijima comes back from practice, and then the both of you have the rest of the day to yourselves (unless, of course, you had an extra shift or your husband had an extra volleyball event).

But some days, you two couldn’t seem to connect. Sometimes this lasted for a few hours, the duration of the day, or for a couple of them.

Today happened to be one of the more worse situations.

“You can’t just keep doing this anymore!” you shouted angrily from across the room.

“And what exactly is it that I’m doing?” he asked, showing no remorse for his actions as he set down his volleyball equipment.

You were about to burst. But even you knew that exploding on him wasn’t going to do much more than if you didn’t.

“You’re cutting corners on your health, taking more time on for work and practice without even telling me, and more importantly: don’t seem to feel any need to apologize at all! No ‘I’m sorry, my wife’, no words that show you can acknowledge the situation-- nothing,” you said, exasperated.

Zipping up his bag, he positioned his body to partially face you, his eyes so cold a shiver almost ran down your spine from where you stood in your shared bedroom.

“What’s the point in apologizing if I don’t mean it in the first place?” he inquired, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out the door. “I’m leaving before I come to practice late.”

Unlike during his proposal, the tears you were crying here were not out of happiness.

You felt angry, frustrated, trapped, and just about like you were going to give up. This wasn’t the first time he’s done this. You had always attempted to get him to talk about it, and, in the less-common occasion, he’d attempt to talk to you about it if the sides were switched instead.

You punched the wall behind you and slid down it until you were sat on the floor. You felt tired. So tired. And afraid, too. If only you two could just get on the same page.

Meanwhile, Ushijima was starting to feel the guilt get to him. He knew he didn’t really mean those words, yet he said them anway. How could he do that to you? You gave him everything and more, and in return you got ignored.

He knew he had to balance this out. That he needed to fix this.

Once again, he was a late. Sure, by only a few minutes, but you knew that it would be long before he got home. You were in the kitchen, your arms folded and head resting on top. Everything for dinner was currently cooking, the sounds of bubbling and sizzling filling the quiet home.

Now that you had let out all of your emotions, you were only left with two: pain and worry.

It would come to your, surprise, though, when you heard the door open. At first, you had thought it was an intruder, but that wouldn’t have made sense as there seemed no extra attempt to open the door.

The more probable answer was that it was Wakatoshi.

Looking back, you saw just the back of his head. Unable to face him, you faced forward once again, suddenly deciding to stand up straight.

You hissed quietly when the timer went off, taking the cover off the pan and taking it off the stove. After you prepared it for cooling, you took notice of the footsteps that approached you.

“Y/n,” he said.

You didn’t want to look back at him. You really didn’t. The way he said your name made you tense, but you forced yourself to turn around anway, attempting to avoid his gaze. What did he want? To talk? A break? A divorce? You knew it was probably far from that… but still.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, making your eyes shoot up at his own.

There he was, in the same outfit as this morning with a bouquet of your favorite kinds of flowers, a simple bow wrapped around its covering that held it together.

He wasn’t great with words. You could tell he was trying.

“I didn’t mean what I said this morning,” he admitted. “And I apologize for not admitting I was wrong for my actions. I do care about my practice and games, but I know you’re just as important. I made a commitment as your husband. I’m sorry for not proving that to you enough.”

The corners of your mouth formed a weary smile. You gratefully accepted his apology gift and wrapped your unoccupied arm around his neck as a hug.

He, in return, wrapped his arms around your waist, allowing you to both feel each other.

“I forgive you,” you murmured, kissing his cheek when you saw the chance to be able to reach.

“I’m glad.”

Though he didn’t quite express it in the way he said it, you knew he was serious. He wasn’t one to play around in situations like these.

That’s one of the things that made this relationship easier.

☆☆☆

“Oho! What’s this I see?” your old friend said when you met him at the airport.

Tendou gestured to the size of your stomach, already having a hunch as to what it could be.

“Is there a little Ushijima on the way? Hmm?” he wondered aloud, scrutinizing the situation as if he himself were a detective.

“There is,” your husband answered, catching up to the both of you with the both of your bags either in tow behind him or in his arms. “I thought I had already told you this.”

“You did, you did! But, my, it’s still a surprise! What’s it gonna be?” he cheered, grabbing a few of your bags out of politeness as he guided you both out of the airport.

“A girl,” you chirped, proud of what you and Ushijima had created.

“Ooh, she’ll be a daddy’s girl, then,” Tendou hummed, rubbing the top of his head as you all stood by the sidewalk (he was busy flagging down a driver).

“Most certainly,” you agreed teasingly, sitting beside your husband in the newly arrived car as the chocolatier got in front.

Ushijima said nothing, but rested a gentle hand on your stomach. Ever since you both gotten the news of your pregnancy, he had become extra careful about your health and how you were taken care of. It was endearing, but also a bit annoying at times. This time, though, it was the endearing part.

He had expressed his excitement and worry over becoming a father times and times before. The both of you were truly ecstatic.

“What’ll you name her, then?”

“We haven’t decided,” you admitted. “Any suggestions?”

“I think Satori’s pretty good,” the red-haired man chimed, smiling to himself.

“I don’t think we’ll be naming our daughter after any of her uncles,” Ushijima cut in, meeting his gaze with Tendou’s.

“Ah, yeah. Besides, Eita is a much better name, don’t you think?”

“Y/n! I’ve been betrayed!”

☆☆☆

“Daddy!” Chiharu squealed, squirming out of your arms.

“Ru,” her father said as he exited the train.

Leaning down, he easily scooped up his daughter into his arms, a kind smile on his face.

“You were gone for so long!” Chiharu whined, her olive-brown hair getting in the way of her eyes.

“I know,” Ushijima acknowledged, brushing the hair behind her ears. “But I won’t be going away for awhile. I’m here now,” he reassured her, kissing his forehead before approaching you.

Whenever he was gone, he always made the effort to still connect with you and your daughter.

“Welcome back, my love,” you laughed, giving your husband a kiss (to which he returned) before taking one of his bags.

Chiharu definitely was a daddy’s girl, just as Tendou had suspected. She was the spitting image of her father, with a lot of your traits as well.

She was kind, excelled at academics, and, of course, especially had an interest in volleyball. Even as a little kid, she took it way more seriously than other kids had. It was as if she were a different kid when it had to do with the sport. At just six years old, she had already claimed her goal on becoming a setter.

Ushijima was proud of this. Not just because she wanted to become a strong player like he father, but because of her determination and willpower.

“Have you been behaving while I was away?” your husband asked, shifting his bag to one arm just so he could hold your hand.

“Yes,” the [eye colored] girl said, seriousness evident in her voice. “I did my homework, listened to Mommy, and even did some extra volleyball practice!”

“Good,” he said as you made you way home. “I’m proud of you.”

He squeezed your hand at those words, causing you to turn and look up at him. Smiling to yourself, you could see his eyes were filled with love and content. Everything he had ever wanted in life was with him at this moment. He would have to be stupid to let any of it go or give up on continuing it.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi, player for the Schweiden Adlers, dedicated husband to Ushijima Y/n, and proud father of Ushijima Chiharu, was no stupid man.

---

☆taglist ☆

@shou-kunn @warmbearhugs

(please ask to be added and if you’d want to be tagged for specific characters or in general!)

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi fanfic #ushijima fanfic #ushijima imagine #ushijima one shot #ushijima wakatoshi one shot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu self insert #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyu imagine

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blue-bird-on-a-wire · 4 years

Text

Beroya (Bounty Hunter)

Part 4 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,664

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, mentioned kidnapping/child kidnapping, insecure (Y/n), hinted/implied abuse of (Y/n), hinted/implied child abuse

Summary: Paz takes (Y/n) to Verith.

Updates: Every Tuesday at 5:30 pm MT

A/N: Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! 😊 Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master-list

“-op! Stop it! Get it off! It hurts!” screamed a child’s voice.

“Keep quiet!”

There was the sound of skin on skin - someone had just been slapped.

“If I hear another word outta that mouth, that lip won’t be the only thing bleedin’! You’ll wear that collar and you’ll like it!”

A whimper. The sound of heavy breathing - shuddering, if you will.

Heavy footsteps could be heard walking away before something slammed shut. Perhaps a door of some sort.

“I-I wanna go home,” cried the child’s voice. “I want my aliit.”

“Paz?”

The audio recording immediately stopped.

The big blue Mandalorian sat hunched over something in the cockpit. I could see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice. He reached for a rag at his feet and covered whatever was in front of him.

“Paz, what was that?” I asked, trying to peek around his body.

“It’s nothing,” Paz said, standing to full height as he turned to face me. “I didn’t hear you coming up the ladder.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wanted to ask where we’re going.”

Paz’s helmet tilted down and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “First we’re going to stop at Verith, so we can refuel and get you some clothes.”

I felt my chest tighten but in that sort of warm good way. Here I was worried about asking for undergarments, and Paz had already been planning to get me my own clothes.

I never had my own clothes before. Outfits were always passed around between Jabba’s slaves. We never owned anything for ourselves. It was all meant to be shared or borrowed.

I smiled. “Can I stay here with you?” I asked, taking look at the wide window that showed off the passing stars. “You have a pretty view up here, and in all honestly I’m not too used to the quiet. It was always noisy at Jabba’s. Even when he was asleep he would snore.”

Paz quietly laughed. Actually laughed. His head leaned back a bit and his shoulders shook.

“Of course, (Y/n),” Paz said, gesturing to the co-pilot chair. “How did you sleep? You were in there for a while.”

“I was?” I asked as I sat down. “Your bed is really nice. I’ve never slept on something so comfortable before.”

Paz shoved whatever was under the rag to the side with his boot, beneath the ship’s controls. “You flatter me. That bed is stiff, no need to sugar coat it.”

“I… I wasn’t,” I said, turning my gaze to the stars.

Paz sat down in the pilot’s chair. He stayed silent, but his helmet’s visor didn’t look away from me.

I watched the galaxy fly past us. I wondered how many people were out there. What kind of lives were they living?

What kind of life had this Mandalorian lived?

“Paz, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm.”

I assumed that meant yes. “You said you know me- or you knew me when we were children. But I can’t remember much of anything before Jabba.”

Paz nodded his head.

“... What was our childhood like?”

Paz’s helmet tilted upward as though he was thinking. His chair let out a creaking sound as he leaned back into it.

“Our childhood,” Paz said. He looked back at me, just as I was now looking at him. “... It was carefree. I was about seven when I first met you. Tinny little thing you were. Only about a year or two old, I think.”

I couldn’t help but picture a small boy wearing oversized Mandalorian armor, peering over a basket at an even smaller baby.

“I swore the creed not long after, so you wouldn’t remember what I looked like without the armor. I didn’t pay much attention to you at first. But we got older, and you learned to walk. Started following me everywhere,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I had to watch out for you when I trained. Elbowed you a few times on accident. I didn’t know you were behind me. Made me become more aware of my surroundings…”

Paz lifted an elbow to his armrest, resting the chin of his helmet on his hand. “You liked playing games, but your favorite was this hiding game. I would count to something like ten while you hid somewhere in the covert. Then I would find you, and you would count to a number before you found me.”

I smiled, “That sounds like a pretty fun game.”

Paz nodded his head, “You would start laughing whenever I came close to your hiding spot. I never pretended I couldn’t hear you. Thought it would make you a better warrior that way.” A pause. “Well… Sometimes I let you get away with it,” he admitted.

I wondered if he was this kind with other children as well. Did he still play with them when they asked?

“... It was happy,” Paz said.

Happy. At least for a while, I suppose.

We sat in silence for a little longer, and my gaze fell to the blur of stars through the cockpit’s window.

Paz never turned away from me. He watched intently, but I didn’t feel as threatened by it. I couldn’t even see his eyes but I just had this feeling that his stare was one of curiosity or reminiscing. Instinct could be crazy that way.

“It’s good to see there is still some of that child left in you,” Paz whispered, as though he didn’t want to disturb the air in the room.

“Hmm?” I asked, still looking outside.

“You always did love the stars.”

I smiled but made no move to look at him.

“... I remember looking at the stars,” I said. “I remember a dark sky with tall trees. I had to squint my eyes to look past the branches… Or, at least I think I did.”

Paz seemed to hold his breath.

“...Just little white dots spread throughout the sky… I haven’t seen the sky since I was brought to Jabba. I never thought I would see it again, but then you showed up,” I turned to look at Paz. “You set me free so I could see the stars.”

How many of these stars had changed since I last saw them? How many had died or were new?

I looked down at my hands, playing with the excessively long sleeves. “I can’t remember much because I don’t allow myself to… Or rather, I wasn’t allowed to. I could keep my name but nothing else.”

A pause.

Of course, he didn’t want to hear about it. Why would he-

“What was your childhood like? With Jabba,” Paz asked.

Or maybe he did.

“Boring. Kept me on my toes I guess,” I said. “I didn’t have friends because the only ones I could freely talk to were other slaves. But, none of them stayed around or lived long enough to have a relationship with me… In all honesty, I don’t even know how I survived for so long… Maybe I’m just really good at keeping my head down, or maybe I’m just lucky.”

“I daydreamed a lot. Made the day go by faster. When I was bussing tables I got to overhear smugglers and bounty hunters talking about the things from their travels. I learned about-“

Well, I suppose I re-learned or rediscovered, or-

“- I mean. I guess I heard about Mandalorians… I became obsessed with them. I used to have dreams about Mandalorians storming Jabba’s palace and taking me away to be a foundling.”

I smiled, glancing up at Paz.

“I suppose that in a way, those dreams came true.”

“But you weren’t bussing tables when I showed up,” Paz pointed out.

I felt the heat rise to my face and I let out a nervous laugh. “Um, I may have had a bad encounter with a bounty hunter. This guy was trying to hit on me-“

Paz straightened up in his chair.

“-and I wasn’t having it, so he convinced Jabba that I would make a good dancer. And everyone knows that dancers are dead within a week or so. Which is why he-“

“Where is he?” Paz interrupted.

“Oh! He’s dead. Jabba fed him to the rancor.”

Paz almost seemed disappointed. “That’s unfortunate. I would have liked to kill him myself.”

“Oh?” I asked. “How come?”

“No one can look at you or treat you like a piece of meat. Not as long as I’m around,” Paz explained. “He’s lucky it was a rancor that killed him and not me.”

I felt my heart flutter. No one had ever expressed this kind of protectiveness over me. Not in a million years did I think anyone could.

“You humor me,” I said, my voice quiet as I looked away from Paz.

“No, Sarad. Just being honest.”

A red light started flashing on the ship’s control panel, and Paz turned around in his chair to press a few buttons and flip a switch. “We’re exiting hyperspace now. You might want to strap in.”

Strap in? What did he mean by-

The ship jerked as it came to a slow. I flew out of my seat and onto the floor with a yelp.

Oh. That’s what he meant by strap in.

Embarrassed, I scurried back to the co-pilot’s seat hoping that Paz hadn’t noticed.

He definitely had. His shoulders were shaking as though he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Oh boy.

Looking out the window, I let out an audible gasp. A planet, covered in patches of green and brown with huge white clouds swirling about. It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Welcome to Verith,” Paz said as he took the ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

Drawing closer, I could see the outline of tall mountains covered in little green fuzzy things. The closer the got, I soon realized those were actually really tall trees. Little towns and cities were scattered about between the foliage. I could see colorful banners and flags waving in the wind.

I had never seen such breathtaking scenery.

~ ~ ~

As Paz lowered the ramp of the ship, I felt excitement bubble up within me. Tatooine had been so dry and dusty. From the looks of it this planet was the complete opposite.

I followed behind Paz, taking a quick look around.

This hanger was huge. There were so many people running about with tools and dirty faces from working on ships all day.

A teal twi’lik woman walked up to us, sparing a glance at my oversized clothing before meeting my eyes.

She was beautiful in her gray jumpsuit, even with black marks smudged across her cheek.

“How can I help you?” she asked, looking between Paz and I.

“Fuel,” Paz stated, handing over a small pouch. “We won’t be long.”

The woman nodded and accepted the money with ease before walking toward the ship.

“Let’s get going. The sooner we can get back the better,” Paz said.

“Why is that?” I asked as we walked out of the hanger.

I had never seen so much vegetation. There were trees everywhere I turned, and bushes scattered all about. Green, string-like things were hanging onto buildings. I could feel the compact dirt beneath my toes. It was cool and fairly moist. Nothing like the rough sand on Tatooine.

“This planet is crowded. Far too many people for my taste,” Paz stated.

I smiled. “Are you not around people very much?”

Paz let out an amused huff. “Not large crowds like this.”

I could see what he meant. I felt like I needed to hold onto Paz so I wouldn’t lose him. There were so many people running around all packed together. I could hardly hear over all the commotion.

Soon enough, Paz led me to a marketplace littered with different vendors.

They shouted as people walked by, yelling about deals or asking questions about what people had or didn’t have.

It was funny watching people either get sucked into a conversation and subsequently buying something, or get irritated at the vendor’s efforts.

I could sit somewhere and watch the comings and goings of this little marketplace all day.

“Hey! Miss!”

One of the vendors reached out from his stand to touch my shoulder.

I yelped in surprise and jumped back, accidentally bumping into Paz.

“Ya know what would look good on you?” He asked, holding up a dangly-looking collar in his other hand.

That was an awfully sparkly collar. It didn’t look practical at all. I could probably rip that thing from my neck if I wanted to.

A gloved hand aggressively swatted this man’s arm away from my body.

“Not interested,” Paz stated, placing one hand on my back to guide me forward.

“I wasn’ talkin’ ta you!” The vendor called. “That pretty lady ya got there-”

I felt Paz’s hand drop as he turned his head toward the man.

His helmet tilted downward almost like he was glaring.

“Alright! Alright! Sheesh,” the vendor waved his hands and looked out into the crowd for someone else to bother.

Wait a minute. Why did he suddenly stop?

“How did you do that?” I asked Paz as we continued walking down the street.

“No one likes to be threatened by a blaster,” the big blue Mandalorian simply stated.

“Oh…” Yeah, I suppose that made sense.

As we turned a corner onto another busy street, I heard laugher coming from not too far away. It was young laughter, like that of a-

“Look out!”

A young boy came running through the crowd, pushing past people and giggling.

Paz sidestepped out of the way just as the boy went flying past.

“I’m gonna get you! You can’t hide from me!” yelled another boy, quickly catching up to the first one.

Children. It had been a while since I had seen a child, let alone ones that were happy.

I couldn’t help but stop and watch as they zig-sagged through the street.

I hoped they would be ok. I hoped they would stay happy and carefree for the rest of their lives. I hoped they wouldn’t be snatched from their homes and be forced to-

“Almost there, Sarad,” Paz said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turned back to find him looking at me. Whoops.

“Sorry, I’m coming.”

Near the middle of the street was another vendor, but she was much less pushy. Hunched over and walking with a cane, her dark eyes light up when she saw Paz.

“Beroya!” she exclaimed. “It has been so long. How have you been?”

Bair-oy-ah? I thought his name was Paz.

The Mandalorian chuckled. “I’ve been fine. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

I nervously waved my hand at the woman. “Hi.”

The old woman gave me a once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “My goodness, what happened to you?” She placed a wrinkled hand on my collarbone.

Oh. I had forgotten about the lines on my neck. This place had already made me feel too comfortable.

“Oh, um-”

Paz placed a hand on my shoulder and started speaking in another language to this woman.

She looked up at him and her eyes widened before softening and glancing back to me. “Oh child, how strong you are.”

What? What did she mean? Paz had said that too.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The woman smiled, before swatting Paz in the leg with her walking stick.

He didn’t budge.

“How come you haven’t introduced us yet, Beroya? Where are your manners?” asked the woman, before turning back to me. “I am Jalimia, an old friend of Paz.”

Oh good. His name was Paz and I wasn’t going crazy.

“Nice to meet you Jalimia. I’m (Y/n),” I said.

“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get you into clothes that aren’t three times your size. Come, look here,” Jalimia said, walking behind her vendor’s stand.

I looked to Paz to see if it was ok.

Paz gestured toward Jalimia. “You don’t need my permission.”

I smiled before following after the old woman.

“Let’s see. What sorts of colors do you usually wear?” she asked.

“Uhh, great question,” I said.

On Tattoine, wearing white or generally light colors was a trademark of slavery. Before Oola’s outfit, I wore faded beige tunics. However, black didn’t feel right just yet. Black was symbolic of freedom, but I still didn’t fully feel free. Whatever that feeling may be. I didn’t know what to do with myself or where I was going. Almost… in a limbo of sorts.

“Hmm,” Jalimia looked me up and down before glancing at Paz.

She gasped, “I know what would look nice on you!” She reached under her stand.

Jalimia pulled out an old wooden trunk, filled to the brim with clothing. Opening it, she shuffled through several colorful pieces before pulling out some duller outfits underneath.

That made me feel better. At least she wouldn’t put me in anything flashy. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

“Ah, here we are,” Jalimia said as she pulled out a sky blue tunic top and a pair of dark gray pants. “Go behind that curtain and try these on.”

She shoved the outfit into my hands.

“And you can’t forget these, my dear,” Jalimia whispered, tucking something between the folds of the outfit.

She then waved me off before turning to a box full of shoes under her stand.

I made my way behind the curtian, safely out of view from the people walking by. Unfolding everything, I found a plain pair of undergarments between the folds of the tunic. I felt my eyes dampen at the gesture.

I took off the clothes Paz had lent me and put on Jalimia’s. They fit much nicer around my from. There was not much excess fabric on the sleeves, and the pants didn’t hang below my feet.

Stepping back out into the light with Paz’s clothes hugged tightly to my chest, my eyes fell onto the big blue Mandalorian. He was standing on the opposite side of the vendor’s stand, leaning against it with his arm crossed.

He straightened up once he spotted me.

“Oh how beautiful!” exclaimed Jalimia. “If I didn’t know they were nearly extinct, I would say you look like a Jedi in training.”

“A what in where?” I asked.

“No, Sarad, you look fine,” Paz turned to Jalimia. “Thank you. How much do I-”

“No, no, no. You have done me one too many favors. You just promise me to take good care of this one,” Jalimia pointed at me.

She then pulled up a pair of boots from the box. “And take these as well,” she said.

“Oh, I can’t possibly-”

“Hush child,” Jalimia said to me. “Think of these as gifts that come with your newfound freedom.”

Oh… That’s what Paz must have told her about.

“Go ahead and try them on. We don’t want you getting any blisters walking around in those boots.”

I slipped the boots on. They were snug against my feet, and padded enough on the inside that I didn’t feel any pebbles beneath the soles. I liked them.

I smiled. “You are so kind, Jalimia. Thank you for these.”

“We should get going,” Paz said to Jalimia. “Our ship is waiting for us not too far from here.”

Jalimia feigned disappointment. “What, you don’t want to spend a night here with old Jalimia?” she laughed. “I better see you around soon, Paz. Your company is anyways welcome.”

Paz nodded his head. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”

With that, I gave Jalimia a wave goodbye before following Paz back down the busy street.

I felt happier. Lighter. I had my own clothes now.

“How do you know Jalimia?” I asked as we turned a corner.

Paz’s helmet tilted to glance down at me. “She was a Mandalorian a long time ago. Her riduur died during the Siege of Mandalore. After her death, Jalimia took off her helmet never to dawn it again.”

“Oh…” I said. That made my heart ache. Jalimia seemed like such a happy person. I couldn’t imagine seeing her so distraught from losing someone she was close to.

“... What is a ridurr?” I asked.

“A life partner. Spouse. In Jalimia’s case, her ridurr was her wife,” Paz explained.

That made my heart hurt even more. She lost the most important person in her life. I couldn’t imagine having to endure such pain.

“... Where are we going next, Paz?”

“That’s up to you,” he said. “If you want to stay with me.”

The thought of not staying with him terrified me. I had nowhere else to go. Besides, Paz had already been kinder to me than most. Aside from Jalimia.

“If… If you don’t mind I would like to stay. At least for now,” I explained. “I hate to be a burden or anything, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Paz hummed, though I couldn’t tell what for.

“You could never be a burden.”

I smiled. That meant more to me than he could even know.

“... Once we get back to the ship, I was going to set course for Ket’yci. There is a Mandalorian covert stationed there.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “No way! You’re actually taking me to a Mandalorian covert?”

Paz chuckled, “Keep your voice down.”

“Paz, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this since I was little,” I loudly whispered.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that you will be embraced with open arms,” Paz said, though I still caught the hurt in his voice he tried to mask.

It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t remember. He knew that. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure I would be just as pained that my childhood friend had no memory of me either.

I grinned up at him. “Let’s get going then,” I excitedly said, gently gripping Paz’s arm and pulling him down the street.

(Part 5 coming soon!)

Mandoa Translations:

“Aliit” - “Family”

“Sarad” - “Flower”

“Beroya” - “Bounty Hunter”

“Riduur” - “Patner/Spouse/Husband/Wife”

(If you are interested in being added to the tag list, please tap/click this link Tag List & More 💕 Same goes for being taken off the tag list 😊 ALSO! If I forgot you on the tag list, I am so so sorry. Do not hesitate to remind me that you belong on the tag list. Thank you!)

#the mandalorain #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz viszla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x y/n #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #also on ao3

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xbaepsae · 4 years

Text

the ebb and flow | part six

“You’re trying really hard not to laugh. But it’s difficult to suppress laughter when the situation calls for it. So, for probably the first time ever, you laugh in front of Jeon Jeongguk.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 2k

rating: pg-13

warnings: language, the usual character tension, a brief moment of softness??

a/n: hi it’s been quite a while since my last update. but i really hope you enjoy this chapter :) xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fourth summer – in which there is an inspection

The last week of summer at camp is always a memorable one—be it the late nights by the beach or the insane amount of chaos that seems to ensue every year.

For example, last summer, there was a monster that managed to break through the barrier. Fortunately, everyone was able to react promptly, and the monster was sent to Tartarus; at least, that’s what you think happened. At the end of the day, you’re just happy it hasn’t happened again since then.

This summer as the new camp counselor for your cabin—after Jinyoung so graciously handed you his title before heading off to New Rome—has been an interesting one; and least to say, you’re going to miss your little legion of cabinmates. It’s been fun leading them around—to greatness, of course.

But before summer can truly end, you need to make it to your last Senior Counsel meeting of the season.

Running to the Big House, you rush into the Rec Room with hopes that you’re not the only person who’s behind schedule. You hate that the one morning you oversleep is the one morning you have somewhere to be. In the Rec Room, you notice that all of the other Head Counselors have already arrived.

“Why, y/n, thank you for joining us,” Mr. D’s mouth curves into a frown.

You wince. “Sorry for running late.”

“You’re only a few minutes late,” Chiron waves his hand. “Take your place, y/n.”

Bypassing your grumpy camp director, you take your seat in-between Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok around the dingy ping pong table. The son of Ares offers you a narrow look—probably still upset you snatched his flag from underneath his nose last week—which you return with the same enthusiasm. “Can I help you, Park?”

“Don’t mind mister grouchy-pants over there,” Hoseok suddenly speaks up. “He clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Not all of us can wake up as chipper as you, Hobi,” Jimin uses the son of Apollo’s infamous nickname.

“Well, I can’t help it if the sun makes me happy.”

“Everything makes you happy. It’s quite sickening, actually.”

Quickly, you realize that this little banter could seriously get out of hand. Luckily, you’re not the only one. Chiron takes a quick look at them and clears his throat. “That’s enough you two; we only have one week left of summer.”

“And there’s much you heroes have to do,” Mr. D adds, popping the tab of his Diet Coke. “I cannot wait for you little vermin to be gone; except for you, y/n…you never seem to want to leave.”

“I would if I could,” you roll your eyes. “I guess we’ll just be stuck here together.”

“Speaking of things to do,” Chiron changes the conversation, “there is one major thing left to be done before the end of summer.”

“Are we throwing a party?” Kim Seokjin asks, hair and face looking as perfect as ever.

Chiron frowns. “No, and there better not be anything of the sort happening in Cabin Ten.”

For a moment, you swear the son of Aphrodite’s eyes are shimmering. “Of course not, unless you want to throw us a party. A party seems fun.”

“A party does seem fun,” Chiron suddenly agrees. “We haven’t had one of those in a while…”

Seokjin’s eyes grow wider. “I want huge balloons and an extravagant display table. Also, is there any way to hire a DJ? No offense, but lyre playing is so ancient.”

“That could probably be arranged…” Chiron trails off, like he’s not even aware of what he’s saying.

“Cut it with the Charmspeak, Lim Sejin.”

The son of Aphrodite’s eyes whip to Dionysus. “It’s Kim Seokjin, Mr. D.”

“Lim Sejin, Kim Seokjin—same thing,” the god of wine rolls his eyes. “But seriously kid, cut it out. We’ve got serious business to attend to.”

“Fine,” Seokjin crosses his arms. “As you were saying, Chiron?”

Chiron blinks a few times. “Oh, yes—the major thing that must be done is cabin inspection.”

The entire Senior Counsel seems to tense at that. It’s not that everyone is a total slob, but cabin inspection is so tedious. There’s a reason it’s only done once in a while. And sometimes, you do end up finding some disgusting beds. The Hermes Cabin is always questionable. You’ve never had to do cabin inspection, and you don’t plan on it.

“Are there any volunteers?” Chiron continues. “You all know two counselors need to perform the tasks.”

As Chiron says that, everyone starts to look at Kim Taehyung. When he realizes that you’re all looking at him, he begins to shake his head aggressively. “No way—I did inspection last time. Besides, I’m busy with the Pegasi—I don’t have time to check all the cabins.”

He is right—the son of Zeus does have a lot of other responsibilities. But you all looked at him first because he is just so good at taking on different tasks.

“Okay, so excluding Taehyung…any volunteers?” Chiron asks again. No one dares to look at him. “Come on, heroes. There are worse things to do here.”

While there is some truth to that statement, no one budges. But for some reason, you feel compelled to offer your service? The thought of coming into contact with stinky socks is less than ideal, but you want to prove to Chiron and Mr. D that you’re serious about being Head Counselor of your cabin. And you want to make your mother proud.

So, almost subconsciously, you raise your hand. “I’ll do it, Chiron.”

Everyone’s head swivels toward you. Surprise and interest simultaneously mares their faces. Even Mr. D looks shocked that you spoke up—his Diet Coke spilling from his hand.

“Great, y/n!” Chiron exclaims. “Anyone want to join her?”

“I’ll do it.” For the first time today, your eyes look in his direction. Jeon Jeongguk stares back at you with his signature smirk plastered onto his dumb face. “I’ll help y/n out with cabin inspection.”

Chiron hums, probably wondering why your sworn enemy is offering to assist you. “Interesting. You may join her, Jeongguk.”

“I’ll gladly take anyone else but Jeon,” you groan. “Chiron don’t make us do inspection together. Please.”

“You’ll be fine, y/n. It’s just one day of cabin inspection. It’ll be fun.” Chiron says as he moves onto the next topic, something about the dining pavilion.

“Come on, y/n,” Jeongguk taunts with a smile. “It’ll be fun.”

***

It’ll be fun, they said.

Walking towards Cabin One with your clipboard, you turn around and watch as Jeongguk slowly follows behind you. In his hand, he carries his own clipboard and pen. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Sure, captain,” he mock salutes you, pen now hanging out of his mouth.

You roll your eyes and continue towards Zeus’s cabin. Once you’re in front of the white marble structure, you take in the columns and bronze decorations. Cabin One is the biggest of all the cabins—to reflect Zeus’s position as King of Olympus; you don’t think you’ll ever get over the robust columns and cold exterior.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“Shut it, Jeon,” you order, knocking on the door. It opens mid-tap, revealing a smiling Taehyung. He opens the door wider, allowing you both to walk in.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the son of Zeus says, revealing a pretty empty cabin.

You notice a few beds in the corner, but that’s about it for the furniture. In the middle of the room, boasts a rather intimidating statue of the god of thunder himself. The statue seems to stand ten feet tall, and you wonder how Taehyung can even stand to live in such a space. You voice this thought out loud, to which only seems to make the son of Zeus rumble with laughter.

“I’m just used to it, I guess. The others don’t mind either.”

Walking around the room, you can’t help but give Cabin One a perfect score—if anything, you feel like it’s almost too pristine in here. Looking over your shoulder, you notice Jeongguk giving the same score.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” you ask, not waiting for Jeongguk to give you an answer before you’re walking away.

The two of you bypass Cabin Two—which belongs to Hera herself and means no one lives there—and make your way towards Cabin Three. You allow Jeongguk to walk in front of you—since this is his place, after all—and you don’t miss the way sweat begins to bead along his brow.

“I hope for your sake, the cabin’s clean,” you remark, to which he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sure my siblings cleaned up…” he trails off, seemingly unsure of his own words.

Jeongguk opens the door of the gray sea-shelled building and reveals a dark interior. His half-siblings are nowhere to be found, probably off doing their activities. You follow Jeongguk inside and watch as he switches the lights on. For the first time, you take in the glowing walls and the ceiling that makes the cabin appear as it’s underwater. There is also a fountain that looks like a fish in the room; and as you’re staring at the water sprouting from its mouth, you see it.

The last bed in the row is trashed—the sheets have been haphazardly thrown everywhere and clothes hang from each corner like a monster rolled through the space or something. On the floor beside the bed, there are even more clothes and random things; like miniature figurines of Hippocampi and other sea creatures.

You don’t realize it, but your mouth had dropped open. “Styx…who’s bed is that?”

Slowly, you turn to face your enemy. You expect him to be ready with a snide comment, except he seems at a loss for words. Jeongguk’s face is devoid of color and he looks absolutely horrified. You put two and two together, realizing that the trashed bed belongs to him.

“I am going to kill them,” he barely says above a whisper. For a second, you almost feel kind of bad for the son of Poseidon; then again, why should you feel bad for him? You don’t even like him. “When I asked them to clean up, I didn’t mean for them to give me all of their shit!”

You’re trying really hard not to laugh. But it’s difficult to suppress laughter when the situation calls for it. So, for probably the first time ever, you laugh in front of Jeon Jeongguk. It starts off as simple air passing between your lips, but soon morphs into something full-bellied as you feel laughter vibrate throughout your whole body.

He looks at you with wide eyes—probably thinking you’ve lost your mind—but you can’t help it. You can barely muster the words, “T-This is gold.”

As you shut your eyes, tears practically fall from them as you continue to laugh, you miss something. You miss the way Jeongguk’s wide eyes soften a bit as he continues to stare at you. The softness doesn’t last long, and you probably wouldn’t have caught it because his gaze becomes sharp in a blink, but it was there. It was real. Though he would never admit it to you.

“Shut up,” he says instead, which gradually sobers you up. “This is humiliating.”

You nod. “Oh, absolutely.” This causes Jeongguk to frown. “And I am so giving you a terrible grade for this.”

Focusing back on the task at hand, you give Cabin Three a big fat one out of five—much to the disappointment of a certain cabin member. As Jeongguk grades himself, you raise an eyebrow when he gives himself a modest score of three.

“What?” he asks, feigning ignorance.

“Three? C’mon, Jeon,” you roll your eyes. “You must see the destruction that is your bed.”

He scrunches his face. “But it’s not even my mess!”

You give him a look; one that says don’t fuck around right now. And it seems to work because Jeongguk, albeit begrudgingly, changes the three next to his cabin to a one. By the time he looks up again, you’re already halfway out the door.

“Come on, Jeon; we don’t have all day!”

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molzies-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Admiration

A/N: Second Leo writing, thank you for all the positive feedback on my last one! If you see me reply under a different account name that’s just my personal blog, I have no idea how to switch accounts whilst commenting but oh well. Anyway, this one is shorter than my last one since it’s technically supposed to be an imagine (I have no idea what the difference between a one shot and an imagine is anymore) so, here it is! (Also if I make any slip ups with pronouns please tell me so I can correct them!)

Leo x Gender neutral Reader

Leo liked you. He knew exactly why, you were confident, not afraid to speak your mind, you weren’t afraid of much actually which led to Raph calling you both ‘the fearless duo’. It embarrassed him at first, since it made you sound like a couple, but over time he had grown into it. The blue banded leader got used to you being around, he felt like he could let his duties go for a bit and could just be Leo. Although he was aware it wasn’t like he could take off the shell and be an entirely different person, but you didn’t mind that and it made him comfortable.

One of the other things that made Leo let go was that you could diffuse a situation between his brothers faster than he could. Which was a difficult quality to have in the first place since it took a lot of experience beforehand. Most of the time he thought you did it for him since it stressed him out so much in the first place.

Today was just like any other day, you had come down to the lair and was sitting next to Leo conversing back and forth. He was calm and extremely happy, you could see it in his eyes since his smile was so infectious, it just put you in a good mood. But of course something had to ruin the moment sooner or later, and that came in the form of the three younger brothers.

“MIKEY THAT WAS MINE AND YOU KNOW IT!” Raph screeched, all up in Mikey’s face as he held a sorry excuse of a fitness magazine behind his back. It looked like he had taken the thing down the water-slide and only realized what had happened when it had dried out, you could barely read it let alone make out what the photos were. “Sorry dude but it was just lying around I didn’t know it was yours!” He attempted to fight back under his brother’s thunderous gaze.

“That didn’t give either of you the right to come bursting into my lab and wrecking my progress on my gadgets! There’s no respect for our own property around here!” Donnie cried out, upset with how much time he had lost with the setback. Sure, if it was down to a lab mishap where something exploded it wouldn’t have been so bad, he’d learn from it and get back to work to make things better. Although he saw this as downright disrespectful.

You could feel Leo tense up beside you, knowing what was coming next “LEO!!” all three of them shouted. “Alright, that’s it. Don’t bother your brother he’s had a long week.” You started as you climbed over the back of the couch. “We all have! I just want Mikey to replace my magazine!” Raph lowered his tone with you, he was still way beyond annoyed but it was a huge difference from when Leo dealt with the situation.

“Okay, Mikey you did kind of ruin what Raph bought with his money so it’s only fair that you should replace it. He would do the same for you.” Mikey looked at you skeptically before handing the money over. “Thanks ding dong.” Raph chuffed before counting the bills. “Now I think you both owe Donnie an apology. He spends a lot of time working on stuff for you guys in his lab.” Leo watched as you looked between the red and orange banded ninjas as they mumbled out the best apologies they could. “Thank you.” Donatello beamed before making his way back into the lab.

“Sorry I destroyed your magazine Raph.” Mikey stared at his feet as he said this one more clearly. You couldn’t help smiling as you looked back to the older brother, quirking your eyebrow as in saying ‘well say something’. “It’s alright just don’t do it again.” Raph muttered before shuffling back to the gym. “No promises!” Mikey yelled as he bounded out of the kitchen area.

You laughed under your breath as you made your own way back to Leo, a soft smile now plastered on his face. “You’re amazing, y’know that?” He let out as you jumped back into your previous seat. “I feel like I’ve had a lot of practice to diffuse those kind of arguments. Being the eldest sibling myself, and all.” You picked at your nails as you admitted. “You have siblings?” Leo was surprised, you didn’t talk about your family much but from the look on your face as you talked about them, it seemed you were quite fond of them. “My parents worked a lot so most of the time I had to pick up the pieces surrounding temper tantrums, petty arguments and well, destroyed stuff.” You giggled as you indicated to what just happened.

“How many?” The leader smirked at you, as if anticipating your answer. “Three. All boys.” You tried to keep the blush at bay as he shot you that look. “Seriously though, I never asked you to do that and yet when you do I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.” He sheepishly admitted. Moving your hand so it rested over his, Leo hoped his mask hid the blush creeping up on him. “I understand how hard it can be sometimes, plus you have to act as a leader as well as big brother, being a leader is hard enough with all those decisions but big brother stuff is a constant that will be with you for the rest of your life, so it’s okay if I resolve a few for you along the way.” You bit your lip as you brushed your fingers along his.

Leo had never seen you so shy or nervous before and he couldn’t help thinking what your lips would taste like, especially because of the way you teased your lower lip, it was driving him up the wall. “Y/N?” he was suddenly aware of how close he had gotten to you in the last few moments. “Yeah, Leo?” You whispered, a quiver rippling in your voice. “Can I kiss you?”

The question settled over you both, this was the border between friendship and something more. “Oh hell yeah.” You breathed out as he shuffled just that much closer. His lips melded into yours, skimming the flesh there every few seconds as you could tell how stiff and nervous he was. This was his first kiss, you didn’t want nerves to get in the way, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, twirling the tails of his bandana through your fingers. He followed your lead, one of his hands planting firmly on your waist whilst the other cupped your jaw.

Becoming bolder, you let your tongue lick his lip and bit it lightly, just to tease him a bit you thought to yourself. You felt a light churr rattle though his chest, causing goose bumps to erupt up and down your arms. Turning your head slightly you couldn’t help sighing into his embrace, his lips were warmer than you expected…but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Leo decided to separate before a louder churr could make its way to the surface, perhaps even alerting his brothers of what was going on.

He stared into your eyes, a bit anxious about your verdict. “Wow.” You shuttered against him, practically made up of jittery energy as you giggled into his neck. “Is that a good wow?” he pecked your temple, “Of course it’s a good wow. Are you sure that was your first kiss?” You asked him, quirking your eyebrows in that way he just adored. “Yeah! It’s not like there are many people around here to kiss besides…I’ve kinda been saving it for you.” He almost whispered, keeping that part to himself. “Really?” You beamed, so happy he returned your feelings.

“Really.”

#Leonardo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt fandom #tmnt imagine #tmnt imagines #teenage mutant ninja turtles #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Fandom #teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles imagines #teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt leonardo #teenage mutant ninja turtles leonardo #tmnt leonardo x reader #leonardo imagine #leonardo x reader imagine #molzies tmnt writings

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Text

A Yandere!Dazai/Reader piece for the lovely @ramannnn. It’s been a very Dazai-centric few days, but... I think it fits the theme well, considering how *controlling* I got to make him, here. I can only hope everyone else is having as much fun as he is, honestly.

TW: Dub-Con, Explicit Material, Groping/Rough Sex, Gun Violence, Blood, Death, and Slight Emotional/Physical Abuse.

Word Count: 5.2k

Dazai still wasn’t used to it, he guessed.

Relationships were a foreign concept to him, intimacy as alien as an unknown creature and affection just as strange. Hell, gestures as simple as holding hands made him flinch and pull back, even when he knew it was only you, the girlfriend who could main him about as brutally as a house-cat. It’d taken him two months to get used to cuddling, another three weeks to actually initiate a session, and he still had to think over his actions strategically while going in for a kiss, if only to keep from embarrassing himself. You were patient with him, sickeningly so, smiling and letting it go whenever he failed to reciprocate, always asking before trying something new. You didn’t have to be told that this was his first relationship, his first real relationship, and you didn’t make him say it. It was something Dazai loved about you, why he’d bothered with making himself seem vulnerable in the first place.

The feelings were new, too. You could still make his heart skip a beat by looking at him the right way, the air around you always too thin, his head in a constant state of spinning, regardless of how composed he presented himself as. It was embarrassing, at first, a lovesick spell more fitting of someone Atsushi’s age than his own, but you were great about that, too. Dazai was neglected when it came to love, simultaneously chasing after your approval and refusing to accept it, but you nursed him on small displays and gentle touches until he could stomach entire dates. He wondered if you knew you were doing it, sometimes, if you’d been conscious of the effect you had on him. Stuck on the thought, Dazai let his attention stray from the case-file in front of him, thankful he’d taken it down to Uzumaki before starting.

It would’ve been a pain to walk down from the Agency every time he thought of you, considering how often his paranoia tended to flare up. Kunikida never seemed pleased by the honest reasons behind his absence, either.

He relaxed as soon as he found you, helping a customer at the end of the cafe’s bar. It was only natural that you worked so close to him, managing to infiltrate your way into the fringes of Dazai’s life. He liked being able to find you, too, even if he was rarely in the office most days. Seeing you was like a tranquilizer to him, a narcotic, Dazai getting… twitchy whenever you weren’t around. Still, he couldn’t help but wince when he got a better look at the person you were chatting with, the conversation having gone on too long for you to only be taking his order. The jealousy was fresh every time he felt it, restored and more powerful than any time before, blunt nails soon tearing through the thin folder as he watched you close your eyes and laugh at something the man said.

You shouldn’t be doing that. He didn’t like it when you did that.

Without a hint of hesitation, he pushed himself up, not thinking as he moved towards you. Your attention from the interaction at hand didn’t waver, letting Dazai approach without notice, his arms wrapping around your waist and earning a small yelp, quickly covered up by a breathy giggle. Reflexively, you leaned into him, not looking away from the customer. You two had gone through this too many times for that.

“I’m sorry… he can be clingy sometimes,” You said, the remark equal parts an excuse and a tease. He felt you make a weak attempt to pry him off, an elbow jabbing at his rib cage, but Dazai only buried his head in the crook of your neck, letting his teeth graze over your skin as you sighed, exasperated. “Will that be all, sir? I can get you something on the house for the interruption.”

Dazai perked up just enough to stare at your customer through his bangs, narrowing his eyes just enough to get his point across. Whether or not he noticed, Dazai wasn’t sure, but the man squirmed nervously, gaze dropping to the floor as he fiddled with the lid of his cup, the disposable kind. Good. It meant the bastard wouldn’t be staying very long. “I… I should be going,” He mumbled, half-heartedly throwing a few bills on the countertop. “See you tomorrow, (Y/n).”

He didn’t speak until the man had gotten up, forgetting his drink as he headed towards the door. Even then, Dazai found a tender spot on your neck and bit down before you realized what he was doing, his teeth managing to sink in enough to leave a mark, only separating when you shoved him back. You were scowling when you turned to face him, barely suppressing a grin, trying to look hurt as you rubbed at the forming bruise. “You a real creep, you know that? I’m going to get fired one of these days, and all because you keep harassing my regulars.”

“Wonderful,” Dazai replied, pausing to peck at your lips. It was a hasty kiss, but there would be more later. He’d make sure of that. “You can be my adorable little housewife, and I’ll be the loving husband you brag about ever time you see your old coworkers. That sounds dreamy, doesn’t it?” He sighed loudly, overdramatically, closing his eyes and slumping against your chest. “Why don’t you quit now, sooner than later? We’ll get married this afternoon, I’ll invite Chuuya to the ceremony, and you’ll be a widow by the time the sun rises! It’s better not to draw these things out.”

“Oh, no, you’re not allowed to die after you trick me into marrying you. Chuuya or no Chuuya.” It was tentative, but soon enough, you were carding through his hair, feeding into his neediness. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Dazai pursed his lips, thinking before answering. “Tomorrow. The Agency’s trying to drain me dry, this week. Will dinner and a movie be enough to buy your forgiveness?”

You took the news with a sober nod, but he didn’t miss the heat that rose to your cheeks, the red tint you suddenly couldn’t hide. “I want… something else, too,” You admitted, the confession not needing an explanation. Your ‘purity’, for lack of a better way to put it, was something Dazai was well aware of, and it made sense. You were as innocent as they came, doe-eyed and naive, even if you tried to hide it. Just asking to be defiled, really. He couldn’t help himself, his hold on you tightening ever-so-slightly, clueing you in much too soon. “You’re a pervert.” With a huff, you crossed your arms, wedging a barrier between you and the offending aggressor, despite said aggressor’s complaints. “Don’t make me regret it, I’m doing this because I love you. I don’t want it to turn out like--”

“It won’t.” He was quick to reassure you, knowing just the right way to cup your cheek, straightening his back and meeting your eyes in a way that always made you more agreeable. This time was no exception, a shy simper returning as you melted into the support. “And you won’t regret it, either. I promise.”

There was a short silence, his words rolling over in your head. Your answer was a painstakingly slow one, but the bright, beaming smile that accompanied the wait more than worth it.

“I trust you, Dazai.”

Yuri. That was what the man went by. Dazai hadn’t bothered with a surname.

A warehouse worker, night-shift. He’d stop by Uzumaki before every shift for a black coffee, and he’d always ask for you, leaving without making a purchase if he couldn’t get his favorite barista. He didn’t have friends, his family lived overseas, and from what Dazai could tell, he was a coward no one would miss when he finally bit the bullet. If anything, Dazai was doing the leech a favor. He was doing you a favor.

The fewer inconveniences you had, the better.

The less competition he had, the better.

‘Yuri’ was already trembling by the time Dazai’s pistol had been drawn, the barrel forced into his mouth when he tried to scream. It hadn’t done much to muffle the sound, but the sharp click of the weapon’s safety switching off had his breath hitching, any sounds turning into high-pitched squeaks and cries when he realized exactly what kind of situation this was. Dazai wasn’t sure how he hadn’t caught on earlier. Hidden between packed-together buildings, the sky dark and the city fast asleep… not much good can come under those conditions, but luckily, ‘good’ was the last thing Dazai had in mind.

“I don’t want to kill you.” Some of the tensions in Yuri’s shoulders dissolved, a mistake quickly corrected by a tap of the front-sight against the roof of his mouth, Dazai’s finger sliding onto the trigger. “It doesn’t matter to me, whether you live or die. I’d let you go, if I had a choice. It’s less clean-up.”

Yuri tensed up, glancing at Dazai’s hand, at the grip of the Desert Eagle currently half-way down his throat. As if to ask what the catch was.

He obliged swiftly.

“It doesn’t matter to me, but I don’t like people touching things that don’t belong to them,” He explained, not bothering to keep the venom out of his voice. “And you’ve been doing just that, haven’t you? Coming into a place you don’t belong, talking to someone who’s not yours, and acting like you have the right to step onto someone else’s territory. It’s disgusting. I should’ve ended your pathetic life months ago. You’re just lucky I’m so nice.”

In a confident, practiced movement, he brought the Desert Eagle out of Yuri’s mouth, letting the worn metal scrape against his lips, tearing at the thin skin. Before Yuri could move, the muzzle was shoved into his solar plexus, bruising the underside of his ribs. “Talk,” Dazai commanded, shoving his free hand into his coat’s pocket. “Make me believe you won’t fuck-up again.”

Opening his mouth, Yuri stuttered incoherently, swallowing and mumbling and getting on Dazai’s nerves before spitting out something intelligent. “I… I’m sorry! (Y/n) is nice, we’re friends, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend!”

“You’re friends, or you didn’t know she was taken?” Dazai paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’d keep my story straight, if I were you. Considering the stakes and all.”

“I’m sorry!” He was yelling, now, eyes shut and voice shaking. There was an attempt to grab the handgun, but Dazai was able to discharge his attempts at bravery with a sharp thrust and a sigh, the ordeal turning out to be much duller than Dazai thought it would be. “I won’t go near her, I swear! Just… just let me go, and you’ll never see me again. I won’t even think about your girl. You two can have your weird-ass romance, I won’t be a problem!”

Dazai smiled, unable to stop himself. “You’re not a negotiator, are you, Yuri?”

Yuri only shook his head, daring to open his eyes, almost relieved at the slight softness in Dazai’s tone. That might’ve been what did it. He was moving before he realized it, slamming the grip into Yuri cheek with the force of a grown man’s weight, the suddenness and the power behind the blow knocking him to the ground, Yuri hardly even tried to push himself up. He made the mistake of looking back at Dazai, of wasting those precious seconds, but their eyes never met. His silencer muffled the gunshots, muted ticks the only sound to signal the end of Yuri’s life. There wasn’t a scream, no fighting or struggling or pleading, just a labored breath and a splatter of blood on Dazai’s shoes.

Still, that didn’t stop Dazai from emptying the rest of his magazine into Yuri’s head. If only to save such a pitiful creature the pain of having to go on for another hour.

You didn’t think you’d ever been this nervous before.

Calming down was a fruitless effort. You’d tried to tell yourself that you were an adult, that Dazai loved you and didn’t care, but… just the thought had you buzzing. It was a palpable anxiety, something that had you walking unevenly and dropping mugs while you cleaned them and laughing when anyone said anything because everything was funny. Your coworkers took notice, but they were dissuaded with an excuse and a few comments about an ‘off-mood’, and luckily, your regulars hadn’t been around enough lately to witness your odd behavior.

They hadn’t been around at all lately, really. You made a mental note of that. You’d have to check in on them, soon, if you remembered to. It was hard not to worry, considering how many frequent visitors had disappeared so abruptly, recently.

Still, Dazai was a source of comfort. You were a timid person, closed-off despite how badly you tried not to be, but you really did love Dazai. He was persistent, consistent, and just as unused to affection as you were, albeit on the opposite side of the spectrum. That might’ve been why you trusted him so much. He was like you, in a way, but so different at the same time. Just as closed-off, but with all the confidence you lacked.

Without thinking, you let your mouth fall open, mumbling the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you.”

Dazai hummed as he glanced over his shoulder, sending you a questioning look as he unlocked the entrance to his flat. It took him a second to understand, but you didn’t have the nerve to explain yourself, letting Dazai come to his own conclusion. It must’ve been a good one, though, judging by the way he pulled you a little closer as the door fell open, kissing your temple and tugging you through the threshold. “Don’t thank me yet,” He chuckled, softly. “We’re just getting to the fun part.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant. As soon as you’d stepped into his apartment, his mouth was on yours, the kiss as overeager as it was underplanned. No attempt was made to ease you into it, no trace of reluctance or consideration, only his arms wrapping around your midriff and your back hitting the wall, crashing into it as he found the first available surface to pin you to. Keeping up with him was a futile effort, but you tried anyway, pushing your lips against his and nipping at the tip of his tongue playfully when he tried to deepen the gesture. You could feel it as he smirked, pulling away and focusing his kisses on your jaw, hands falling to your thighs and lifting you off the ground without a trace of effort. It was easy to forget how strong he was, but as Dazai slotted himself against you, far closer than you’d ever let anyone else get, it slipped your mind to tease him about it, too.

Instead, you let out a cracked laugh, one that turned into a small whimper as his teeth brushed against your jugular. “It… this feels kinda sudden, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” He said, before choosing a spot and biting. This wasn’t your first hickey, this wasn’t the first hickey he’d given you, but this was the first time Dazai’d been so violent about it, sucking viciously until a purple, bruised mark covered the area. Hot, open-mouthed kisses traveled downward, each a little more primal than the last, only pausing when he hit the unwelcoming fabric of your shirt, the annoyance eliciting something near a growl. He dropped you in a heartbeat, leaving you to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him as he all-but tore at the offending clothing, not seeming to care what he ripped. “You wanted this, too. It’s a natural progression.”

A natural progression. That’s what it was, a natural progression.

This was the next step.

So, you didn’t complain as your shirt fell away, his coat dropping to the floor not long after. Your whimpers and yelps turned to low, muffled moans as he went on, the pain fading into a light sting. You pulled at his collar, too, beginning to undo the first button with one hand while the other remained uselessly draped over his shoulders, but if Dazai noticed your work, he didn’t see it necessary to show it. He occupied himself with pushing up your skirt, letting it pool around your hips as he groped at whatever he could reach, only growing more aggressive as you writhed against him. It was only as he slipped a finger under the edge of your panties that you spoke up.

“Bed.” Your voice cracked, the whisper coming out helplessly. “Please, Dazai.”

Again, he didn’t waste time. You were pulled wall from the wall one moment and thrown onto a plush surface the next, the terrain suddenly strange, unfamiliar. You couldn’t help but freeze-up, but Dazai wasn’t hit by the same affliction, kneeling between your legs and continuing where he’d left off. Your panties were discarded in a matter of seconds, leaving you partially dressed and unprepared when thin fingers started to run over the length of your slit, his thumb hardly making contact with your clit, testing the waters. He slid two digits in as soon as he decided your wet enough, pausing for a moment.

“You’ve touched yourself, haven’t you?” The question is punctuated by a curl, his fingertips rubbing against slick walls. The stretch made you want to whine, but you bit your lip instead, nodding as he scissored you open. You balled your fists around the sheets, closing your eyes as Dazai moved lower. “Naughty girl. You won’t be allowed to do that, anymore.”

Before you could wonder what he was doing, his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking just harshly enough to have you grinding against his face. Your thighs went stiff, then twitched, attempting to clench around Dazai’s head, but he held them open easily, his other arm too busy finger-fucking you to do much else. You almost got used to it, almost, but the moment Dazai’s fingers hit something spongy and soft, your composure was done-for. Pressure pressed down on your chest, the air choking you, but Dazai never let-up, never relaxing, not until you were clenching and squealing, slicking building up and flowing over his fingers, Dazai only slowing down to pull out.

You thought he would kiss you, or smile, or say something.

Instead, he began to undress.

You watch in anticipation as a layer fell to the floor, then another, a sensation between excitement and dread forming a tight ball in your throat. This wasn’t how you pictured it happening. This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. It was supposed to be more… romantic, less passionate and more loving. You thought it’d feel more loving. This wasn’t how you pictured it, but you couldn’t make yourself say something.

So, you laid back and shut your eyes again. You hoped he would notice.

The kiss came too late, but you accepted it nonetheless, running your hands through his hair as his lips brushed against yours. It was conciliatory, if anything, simultaneously more apologetic than it should've been but less than it needed to be, for whatever reason. “Don’t worry,” He reassured, lining himself up with your entrance. “I’ll be gentle.”

But he wasn’t. As soon as he was inside you, all pretenses of self-control abandoned him, Dazai bucking into your wildly and forcefully. The ache was worse, eliciting something near a sob, but it was all you could do to hold onto him and let it happen. His hips rolled against yours without any regard for the way his cock couldn’t fit inside of you, determined to go deeper, faster, harder with every movement. You found yourself burying your face in his chest unconsciously, grabbing anything you could reach, just trying to find a center before Dazai ripped you away from it, again. Distantly, you could hear the bed creaking, wet sounds echoing off the walls, but his voice was close enough to overtake it all.

“Mine, mine,” He repeated, the single word turning into a mantra. The head of his cock pushes against your cervix, Dazai intent on fitting you to his shape or tearing you open in the process. “None of them can have you. You don’t belong to anyone else.”

You tried to speak, but the sound was cracked, hollow. “I don’t--”

“None of them can have you.” He pushed himself away from you, fucking into your with twice the strength and half the consideration. Still, a coil forms in the pit of your stomach, something tense and hazy taking root in your mind and refusing to leave. Something you didn’t know if you liked. “Say it. You belong to me.”

You obeyed. You weren’t sure what would happen if you didn’t. “I-I only… I only belong to you!”

Your orgasm was less earned and more torn from you, crashing down with the same delicacy of the man who’d caused it. It was suffocating, euphoric, the world going white as you forgot how to inhale, Dazai’s mouth slotting itself against yours. So enraptured in holding you, he hardly remembered to pull out, your cunt clamping down on him like a vice. Still, you felt it as cum splattered across your thighs, warm and sticky, as repulsive as it was disgustingly comforting.

Neither of you said anything, heavy pants and enduring whines monopolizing the conversation. But, after a long minute, Dazai’s attention re-focused, his eyes meeting yours and a small grin spreading across his features. His hand came up to cup your cheek and willingly, you melted into it, relaxing as he wiped the stray tears from your skin.

You only smiled back, wondering when you’d started crying.

“I’m just worried about you.”

You could’ve groaned at the familiar sentiment, hardly gathering the energy to glance up from the order you were punching into the register. Lucy was a new recruit, still green around the edges and not quite a skilled communicator, but you could appreciate her for what she was… most days. It was just the two of you on staff, at the moment, only a handful of customers in the cafe at such an ungodly time in the morning, leaving her with plenty of time to voice her oh-so-persistent concerns. It was sweet, honestly, a newer girl becoming so protective of her coworkers so quickly, and you couldn’t help but feel the same way, even if the age gap between you two was barely two years long. She wanted the best for you, and you for her.

So, you let her go on.

“Osamu’s not a nice guy.” Her voice was impassioned, just as genuine as the muffled curses she let out as a few drops of steamed milk spilled over the side of the cappuccino she was working on. “You should hear the stories Atsushi tells about him, they’re not… they’re not good. It’s hard to listen, sometimes. Especially when it’s so easy to tell he’s got the poor boy wrapped around his finger.”

“I’d hate to say it, but ‘they’re not good’ isn’t exactly compelling evidence,” You reasoned, biting the inside of your cheek. Your legs were still sore, your back aching, but you ignored the pain. That was normal, wasn’t it? For the first time, at least. “He’s a hard man to warm up to. It took me a while, too, but he’s really not as bad as he seems. Playful, but nice. With me, at least.”

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. “It’s the way he looks at you. I don’t like it,” She explained, a little too bluntly for the comment not to irk you. “Sometimes he’ll just sit and stare at you, and it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. He’s always asking the other girls which regulars you’re talking to, or for a copy of your schedule, and he gets so rude when we refuse. It’s not playful, it’s obsessive. Like he doesn’t trust you.”

You hoped she didn’t notice the way you frowned at her last comment. “He… he asks about my regulars?”

“Oh, all the time.” The words were too tired to be rehearsed. Not angry, annoyed. Like she was used to it. “A few of us slip up, occasionally, but nobody ever tells him anything. That doesn’t stop him from tryin’, though, nearly every time you’re not working. He tries to say it’s for the Agency, like half our customers aren’t detectives.”

Now, that got you to pause, your fingers slipping as you tried to focus on the task at hand. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Please let me know if he does it again.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” She mumbled, stopping to wave her free hand in some abstract, dismissive gesture. “Trust me. Or talk to him, do something. I just don’t want to see you cry over someone like him.”

It was hard not to smile, to thank her, even if you weren’t sure how you felt just yet. It would’ve been a lie to say you’d never had your doubts, but hearing someone else voice them was an entirely new experience, one you couldn’t say you were used to. You wanted to say that, you wanted to tell Lucy how much you appreciated her, you wanted to ask if there were supposed to be bruises on your hips, but as soon as the words made it to your tongue, they were swallowed back down, your mouth refusing to let them escape. It felt wrong, but staying quiet felt terrible.

You did the best you could, considering.

“You don’t have to answer, but…” You trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it. “Do the people you love ever start to scare you?”

For a second, she didn’t respond. She pursed her lips, something between surprise and concern coming across her expression, both emotions disappearing in an instant. A reply came eventually, tender and reassuring, but you had your answer the moment she failed to meet your eyes.

You needed to talk to Dazai.

Dumbfounded didn’t seem like the right word.

Shock would’ve been better, maybe. Dazai didn’t know how to react, flinching and laughing half-heartedly, the two acts mixing into something painful to see. He only grew more sure of your discomfort as you looked away, keeping your eyes on his walls or his rug or anything but the man who owned them, despite failing to pull away as he moved a little closer, closing the space between you. It wasn’t hard, the furniture in Dazai’s apartment as sparse as it was scattered, the loveseat no exclusion to his rule. He still hadn’t adjusted to having guests, even with all the time you’d spent together.

“Could… could you run that by me again?” He asked, the question more a whisper than a demand. “I don’t think I understand.”

“I just think it would be a good idea if we… took a break.” You were nothing short of meek, defenseless, curling into yourself as you spoke. “You haven’t been acting like yourself, lately, and everyone seems so worried about me. I don’t really think--”

“It’s those girls, isn’t it?” Dazai didn’t try to ease you into it, he couldn’t ease you into it, he was too angry to ease himself into it. That what it was, anger. Dark, ugly anger, potent enough to make him pull you closer, a hand on your knee and the other around your hips, refusing to budge when you nudged at his arm. “I knew they were against me, against us. You can’t trust anything they say, especially if it’s about me. They don’t want you to be happy--”

You cut him off abruptly, catching Dazai off-guard. Even if your actions didn’t reflect your violent tone. “They don’t want me to be with someone who can’t stand making me happy,” You retorted, digging your nails into his arm, this attempt to distance him more sincere than the last. “You don’t have to pretend you care about me, anymore, I get it. I’m some… thing, to you, that’s why you’re always checking in on me, why you’re always acting like I can’t handle myself. It’s fine, or, it was fine, I mean.” You sighed, shaking your head. Confliction wasn’t a good look for you, Dazai realized. He didn’t like that look on you. “I don’t want to do this anymore. You got my virginity, you win. I just want to go home, Dazai.”

He was silent, for a moment, as motionless as he was stiff. “You can’t do that.”

“I don’t care.” This time, you tried to get up, to pull yourself away from him, only gritting your teeth when he dragged you back down. “Let me go. I’ll call the police, if I have to.”

“And I’ll break your fingers before you can find a phone.”

You snapped around, but you didn’t have time to respond, not before you were thrown against the couch-cushions, Dazai straddling you reflexively, acting on instinct. He didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t lose you, not after how far you’d come, how beautifully you’d opened up for him. You fought back, weak and misguided, but Dazai only had to shift his weight onto your diaphragm to stifle your rebellion, the hands soon wrapped around your neck more of a flourish than a safety-measure. You tried to grab at his wrists, but the resistance wasn’t forceful.

Still, Dazai tightened his hold, pressing up into the bottom of your chin. If only to hear that whimper he doubted you show him willingly, anytime soon.

“I thought this might happen. Chuuya used to call me crazy for planning ahead, but this always happens.” His laugh was genuine, this time, light and airy and genuine. Dazai could feel you go still under him, your stare burning holes through his skin, but he didn’t care. What you were feeling was secondary, as long as you were directing those feelings towards him. “People get inside your head, and they turn you against me. It doesn’t matter how many parasites I get rid of, there’s always a dozen there to take their place. You know how annoying that is, don’t you?”

This time, you were the speechless one, swallowing thickly before answering. “You’re insane--”

“There’s only one thing left to do, when keeping the bugs away doesn’t seem to help.” The smile that spread across his lips must’ve been wicked, because you began to struggle once again, kicking and thrashing and fighting, but Dazai was far from caring. He bent down slowly, letting you bite at his lips, not caring when blood was drawn. The metallic taste spread across your lips as he kissed you, only making him all the more keen to remind you why you belong to him, in the first place.

“I’ll just have to keep you away from all those bad influences, won’t I?”

920 notes · View notes

visionsofus · 3 years

Note

For the mixtape, could I request either Ho Hey by the Lumineers (for fluff) or the Scientist- Coldplay (for emotional angst)? 💕

anon: hey :)) have you ever thought of writing about wanda & visions first kiss? (or even the first time they hug!) i adore the way you write from visions perspective and how he gains his humanity. i think if wanda initiated it and it was something completely new to him he would have a lot of... feelings.. to work through :)

I decided to combine these two, I hope that's okay I just really wanted to use the Scientist for this - I think it turned out more fluffy than angsty tho oops

Track #20: The Scientist by Coldplay

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

The compound was quiet as Vision settled into his usual armchair in the living room. These days it was always quiet, no matter the time. Currently it was the early hours of the morning and he had given up on resting, instead opting to occupy his racing mind with a book. To stave off the suffocating silence, Vision sent a request through to the compound AI to play a soft collection of songs he found comforting. He sunk back into the chair, trying to focus on that which was before him, the feeling of his feet against the floor, his fingertips on the worn paper of his novel, the acoustic sounds coming from the speakers overhead.

And beyond it all a great and heavy silence.

Once upon a time Vision had relished these quiet moments. Now they were a burden, a reminder of all that had happened in the last 6 weeks.

Rhodey, Tony and Happy – the only remaining residents at the upstate compound – were all otherwise occupied. Tony had gone down to Stark Industries to see Pepper, still in the process of trying to mend their relationship. Happy and Rhodey had retired to their respective quarters hours ago.

Vision had tried to rest but he was unable to settle into sleep. It wasn’t as though he needed the rest, what with the Accords so often confining him to wandering the compound day in and day out.

The book he had selected to read on this particular evening would have normally guaranteed his attention. Vision had made it through all the main philosophers easily and was just coming to the end of a few key scientific philosophers. Normally he’d be in raptures over the theories before him, but tonight he just wasn’t in the right mood. After trying to stay focused for half an hour and realising he had only made it through a measly 12 pages, Vision decided to give up.

He left the book abandoned in the chair, switching out the reading lamp as he went but left the haunting echoes of music to follow him. He was a ghost these days, a ship sailing without the direction of a compass, let alone a destination.

The south wing on the second floor had once been the hub of life at the compound but it now lay dormant. It’s inhabitants were long gone, down some other path that Vision no longer had the power to follow. Steve’s room was empty, the door permanently closed. Next door, Sam’s room was exactly as it had been left. None of those who still remained could bring themselves to address the belongings left by their ex-teammates. Either that or they were, like Vision, holding out hope that they wouldn’t need to, that this would all be fixed. He was aware of the irrationality of this particular hope but sometimes it felt like it was the only thing keeping him going.

At the end of the corridor was the door he hadn’t looked at in 6 weeks, never letting himself get far enough into this wing to see it. The emotions it roused in him were too tender, too fresh and painful to face, though they lingered at the corners of his mind every night. Regret, longing, affection, loss…

He wanted to keep moving, to leave behind the pain of those emotions just as he had left her behind to be captured and taken. Frustrated with his own avoidance, Vision halted himself before he could walk away and cower from his emotions for yet another night. They would keep on overwhelming him if he didn’t face things head on.

Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob and slowly twisted, letting go so that the door might swung open. The air inside still smelt of Wanda’s perfume and his heart seized at how close it made her feel. The light of the corridor was like a knife cutting through the shadows of the abandoned space within.

Feeling slightly unsteady, Vision forced himself to take the first step over the threshold. If only he could stay inside for a moment, to give himself an opportunity to feel what he felt and not run from it. Perhaps it could bring some kind of clarity to how directionless he had become in her absence.

He felt the sickening sensation of his stomach dropping to the floor as his eyes made sense of the sight before him. The air, which had remained still for the past six weeks, was alight with movement and his eyes became aware of a second heat signature within the room that should be empty.

Vision was immediately on guard, his hands raising defensively as he prepared himself to signal the compound’s security system. Whoever this was had made it past the gates, past the walls of security and sensors that were his job to monitor.

It was then that he caught sight of the familiar eyes staring him down. They glinted in the light from the corridor as Wanda hesitantly stepped away, her hand reaching towards the open window at her back. He felt sure that she was a figment of his imagination. And yet she was not, her eyes, her hesitant smile as she met his gaze – that was all the real Wanda.

Vision reached his hand out, unable to form the word he’d wanted to say all those weeks ago. “Wait.”

The simple request hung in the air between them, and Wanda did indeed pause.

“You know I won’t report you, just please don’t leave yet,” Vision said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them, aware that in doing so he as breaking his commitment to the Accords. In that moment he couldn’t have cared less. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Wanda said without hesitation, stepping away from her escape route and towards him.

She kept coming closer and Vision tensed up, frozen in place. He only relaxed once her arms had slipped around his waist in a tender hug. He settled into her embrace, calmed by her familiarity, though they had only hugged once or twice in the past and certainly never for this long. He rested his chin atop her head and sighed contently, only caring that she was here and safe before him. Vision had never wanted to hold onto her more, had never felt such a need to be close to someone like this. But it had always been like that with Wanda, hadn’t it? She’d been the source of all his emotion in those early days and little had changed since.

“Where have you been?” He whispered as she pulled away and gazed up at him.

“Here and there,” she murmured turning to take in her room now cast in light from the corridor. “It’s been tough staying under the radar, but we’ve been okay.”

“And here,” Vision said gesturing to the room, and the compound at large, “what on earth are you doing here? This isn’t laying low – how did you even make it inside?”

“Woah so many questions,” she muttered smiling at him. “I came to get this.” She held up a crinkled photo, a photo of her family that he had only seen on the rare occasion on her nightstand. Vision nodded in understanding.

“And I hoped I might bump into you,” she said with a smile and Vision’s heart fluttered in response. She took a step closer again, tucking the photo into her pocket and Vision hovered closer, unable to stop the way he leaned to her. But he managed, pausing when their heads were so close that they were sharing the same air and Wanda’s eyes had fluttered closed. He couldn’t be doing this. She was a fugitive; he was practically a government lacky. And he needed to get her out of the compound before she was caught.

“I need to see you out,” Vision said taking her arm and guiding her out into the corridor. “No one will be up at this hour so there’s no sense in you climbing out the window. I can chop up the security footage so no one sees you leave.”

“I kinda fried them on the way in,” Wanda said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Always so discrete,” Vision joked.

“I missed you,” Wanda said sadly.

“I missed you as well, more than I could bear.”

She was quiet but he saw her lips turn up at his admission. “It is not the same here without you.” The compound no longer felt like a home without Wanda there to share it with him.

They were about to walk out into the communal kitchen when Vision caught sight of Rhodey, sitting at the kitchen island with a steaming cup sat before him. Vision jerked them both back, unconsciously pressing Wanda into him as he hid her from view. They stayed still a moment as Vision waited hesitantly for the sound of Rhodey’s voice, for them to be caught. But there was only the sound of typing and the clink of the mug on the marble countertop.

Vision opened his eyes as he breathed out a sigh of relief only to come face to face with Wanda’s nose brushing his. They were so close and his heart, gosh his heart – he might as well have finished a sprint with the rate that it was going. Was a synthetic heart supposed to beat this fast? Vision swallowed audibly as Wanda hovered closer, mimicking her movements as their foreheads pressed together. Her eyes closed and her hand tightened on his arm which was curved bracingly around her back.

“Vis,” she murmured.

Vision wasn’t sure what might have happened if he hadn’t heard the scrape of Rhodey rising out of his chair right at that moment. Without thinking he turned around and phased Wanda through the wall into his bedroom at their back. He lost his footing as he tugged her through, tripping backwards and thudding to the floor, her legs tangling with his so that she landed atop him.

If Vision had thought they were close before, it was nothing compared to now. The way they fit together; it was like he had been built for her. Her hair swung over her shoulder as she raised herself up on one arm and her eyes searched his face, a strange desperation to her gaze. Vision’s tensed as he realised, he had both hands pressed to her waist.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, perhaps it was neither or perhaps both. There might as well have been a magnetic field pulling them together for they collided with such synergy that Vision felt a clear, crisp certainty that this was meant to be.

Her lips were so soft and she felt so real above him that he sighed blissfully. Vision had never kissed anyone before, had never wanted to kiss anyone like he did Wanda. He wasn’t sure how long he had wanted to be like this with her, a long while it seemed.

He raised a hand to cup her cheek, marvelling at her as she pressed herself closer.

They both froze when footsteps echoed in the hall outside.

“Vision?” Came Rhodey’s voice from outside the door and Vision didn’t know what might have happened if Wanda hadn’t raised her hand at that exact second. Her magic was flung outwards and sent the lock of his bedroom door sliding closed with a heavy click. Rhodey sounded confused outside. “I thought I heard something, good night I guess…”

Wanda huffed and looked to the side, watching the shadows peaking beneath the door move away. Vision looked up at her, awestruck. Never before had she appeared as beautiful as she did now, hovering above his chest, her hair a mess and her eyes bright and alert.

“You’re magnificent,” he murmured, brushing his nose along her jaw trying his best to get a grip of the longing in his heart. At this Wanda swung her head back to gaze down at him, her hand rising to caress his cheek even as she came in for another kiss. It lasted longer this time, neither quite ready to part and face the consequences of what was supposed to happen next.

“Might we get up off the floor?” Vision asked, reluctantly pulling away from her captivating mouth.

Wanda laughed quietly and pressed her mouth quickly to his, pulling him up as she did. Unsure what else to do, Vision pulled Wanda to the bed and sat her down beside him. He faced away from her, his hands on his knees concerned of what might happen if he didn’t.

“This is new,” Wanda said leaning forward to catch his gaze.

“Indeed,” Vision said breathlessly, his fingers tapping rapidly upon his legs.

“Is it okay?” Wanda asked hesitantly, reaching out to take his restless hands.

Vision opened and closed his mouth uselessly in response. Wanda hummed thoughtfully and he worried that she took his silence as pushing her away, which was not at all what he intended to do. Even just the contact of her hands on his was enough to make his heartbeat rise, his skin prickling in anticipation. Instead of making to leave, Wanda shuffled closer, folding her legs upon the bed and pulling his hands to rest in her lap, their fingers interlocked.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Absentmindedly Vision rubbed his thumbs along the back of her hands. “I think I have waited a long time for that.”

Wanda smiled softly. “It’s long overdue.”

She wasn’t wrong, it was just Vision had never thought he’d have the opportunity to act on his growing feelings, all those hopes had been dashed when she had become a fugitive. And never had he presumed that his complex feelings might be reciprocated.

“Wanda,” he said, conscious that they had to keep their voices lowered, “I may be made of synthetic parts, but I want you to know, I need you to know that what I feel is real.”

“I’ve never doubted that your feelings are genuine, Vis,” she murmured back.

“You know, then, that my emotions are responses to stimuli in the same way that yours are?” He asked and she nodded slowly in understanding. “I’ve become more aware of this fact in recent months as these feelings have become more unruly and difficult to control. Especially around you, especially aboutyou.”

Wanda tilted her head in consideration and Vision squeezed her hands. “What if I stopped trying to control them, what if I just let them be?”

Wanda’s responding smirk was a challenge. “What did you have in mind?”

“It may be presumptuous, but this isn’t all one-sided… I think…”

She smiled and shook her head, shuffling closer. “I wouldn’t say its one-sided.”

They were being drawn together again and connection was inevitable. Wanda sighed into his mouth in a way that told Vision she felt the same, the same relief at being this, whatever this was or might become.

“Let’s pursue this,” Vision whispered pulling away, only to press their foreheads together. “Let us see what we might become if we let ourselves have the chance.”

Wanda’s gaze turned downcast. “If this had happened two months ago I might have been more open to the idea,” she said sadly, “but things are different now, Vis, we’re on two very different sides of a war.”

“But it is not ourwar,” he whispered, pressing a hesitant kiss to her temple and drawing back so he could see her fully.

Her answering sigh was not one of hope. “Forget the specifics, forget the Accords, forget everything difficult!” She laughed at Vision’s hopeful smile as he spoke excitedly.

“Pretend that it’s just me, and you – is this something you want?” His throat tightened on the final word, almost cutting him off. His cards were on the table and if she were to say no then there would be no further discussion and they would have to go their separate ways.

“Of course, it’s something I want.”

“That’s all I need.”

Wanda smiled sadly but grasped his face with both hands and kissed him hard. “You’ll have to run with me,” she kissed him again, “you’d be undermining the Accords, Stark.”

“It is all inconsequential,” he murmured, knowing that wasn’t realistically true, only that it was how he felt. “Next to you, none of it matters.”

“You’re crazy,” Wanda said breathlessly against his mouth, “we’re both crazy.”

“A witch and a synthezoid, stranger things have happened.”

#wandavision #scarletvision #fics #wanda x vision #Wanda maximoff #first kiss fic #ask prompts #I can't remember what my normal tags are #visionsofusfics

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