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benignbucky · 3 years

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Whiplash Pt. 2

Based on THIS REQUEST

PART ONE

AN: (MINORS DNI) This is probably gonna be the final part, I'm not super feeling this series anymore in all honesty so I'm gonna leave it as a mini series so we can get that resolution. I may come back to it later but for now I am happy with this ending. This could honestly be a standalone but the first part is linked above. Thank you for being so patient with me while I got this out, last weekend was stressful but this weekend is so much better. You may need a fan for the last half of this. ♡

PAIRING: stucky x reader, john walker x reader briefly

Word Count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: John Walker is the ex because absolutely no one likes him and we all know this man radiates tiny pp energy and would be the worst in bed, fighting, minor angst, mostly fluff and smut, unprotected sex (wrap your wang before you bang), threesome, overstimulation, squirting, HELLA praise kink, pet names (baby, peach, good girl), brief mentions of dub-con/non-con with ex, unbeta'ed (all mistakes are my own)

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The memories of that night were burnt in the back of your eyes. Seeing your ex, John, for the first time in 6 months and he still had so much power over you.

The second you opened the door, tears sprung to your eyes as a barely audible 'w-what are you doing here?' escaped your mouth before he was walking in, clearly not noticing Bucky and Steve walking over with fury in their eyes.

"You need to leave before this gets messy." Steve and Bucky were easily twice his size, not so much in height but in pure muscle.

"Oh, so you're moved out and fucking both of your roommates. A whore like you would do that, huh?" John

You backed behind Bucky as Steve took the lead. "Listen, I don't care who you think you are but you don't just get to come back around after how you treated her. Let alone call her something she most certainly is not seeing as you're the one that cheated on her with how many women?"

"You may look all big but I doubt you even know how to fight. Useless muscle if you ask me." Little did he know that both incredibly skilled in combat, especially hand-to-hand combat. And that's all it took for Bucky to leap forward and land a bone breaking punch to John's jaw, almost knocking him out cold. This had him backing out the door, learning his place.

"And don't even think about coming back here because next time you'll have to be dragged out," The tone of Bucky's voice was firm and aggressive but only until John walked out of the building before he joined Steve in comforting you.

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It had been three hours since John tried to pry himself into your life again. You were still trembling even though you were in the arms of the two people you trusted most. The idea that John could just show up again out of nowhere terrified you more than anything. You were well protected by Steve and Bucky but just having John in the same room, no, same building as you brought on heart shattering fear and anxiety.

You had all migrated to your room, the three of you barely fitting on your queen size mattress. It really showed off how much bigger they were compared to other guys, especially compared to you. Both of them were easily at least a foot taller than you. Their biceps easily closer to the size of one of your thighs than your arms.

Around you, they were gentle giants. That was until they needed to protect you. And they would, with their whole being. They just wanted to show you how much they valued you, how much you lit up their lives. They wanted you to know that it wasn't one sided. The two of them were pampering you in kisses and praise, gentle caresses, doing everything they could to make you feel safe and loved.

Eventually your breathing and heart rate had calmed, turning on your back so you could look at the two men. Their overwhelming appreciation towards you made you want to show your appreciation for them but you were mustering up the courage. You hadn't been intimate with anyone, let alone with yourself since before you moved in. Any experience with John had been too rough, basically forced from you but you didn't know any better.

This one moment with Bucky and Steve, everything felt different. They asked if they could play with your hair, caress your face in their hands, or even to soothingly rub your back. Every touch required you to tell them yes. If it made you even the slightest bit uncomfortable, they would stop and move back to something else you had already agreed to, which only made your core dampen more than it already was.

Fighting the nerves, you kissed them both with nothing but love and passion, hinting for something more. It took them a minute to take the hint but when they did, their actions only got softer.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." Steve whispered. His and Bucky's eyes had darkened, pupils blown out. This only made you want them more.

You nodded at them both even though you knew they wanted a verbal answer. You gulp before mustering up a soft, "Yes, I want this. Want you. Both of you."

Slowly, you sat up, starting to tug at the hem of your oversized shirt before you felt one metal and one flesh hand move your hands away, removing your shirt for you.

"This is about you, peach. Don't worry about us. We want you to feel good." Bucky whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine but in the best way possible.

Steve was behind you, rubbing circles into your back as Bucky trailed kissed down your jaw and neck. You leaned back against Steve's chest as Bucky's kisses went lower to your chest. "Can we take this off?" Looping his flesh fingers under the strap of your bra.

"Please…" You breathed out your answer, feeling Steve's hand loop under you to unclasp the article of clothing. You gasped at the cold sensation of Bucky's metal hand brushing over your hot skin and he chuckled softly. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that? Isn't she, Steve?" You leaned back once more only to gasp again at the light flick that Bucky gave to your nipple. "Absolutely gorgeous." Steve hummed his answer, you could feel his length growing underneath you.

The moment you felt Bucky's mouth over your chest left your mouth agape, your back arching at his touch. His mouth didn't linger long as it started moving lower and lower until he was in between your thighs, kissing over your biker shorts but not over where you wanted him the most.

Out of instinct, you reach down to pull off your remaining clothing but Bucky just shakes his head and replaces your hands with his. This time it's him gasping at how absolutely dripping you are. "Oh you poor baby, probably haven't had someone focused on your pleasure in so long."

Steve's hands moved up to tease your chest, massaging and caressing everything he could reach before pulling his shirt off with you still on top of him. Bucky did the same before placing your thighs over his shoulders, looking for any sign of you being uncomfortable but only saw your eyes shut in pleasure.

Dipping his head down, he licked a broad stripe up your dripping cunt, not even giving you time to be shocked as he got to work. Your sounds were only making him work harder as you took his hands in yours at your side.

John only went down on you once and that was after begging him because it was 'only fair' seeing as you had always done it for him. Steve and Bucky didn't even ask, didn't want you to because unlike John, they cared more about your pleasure than their own.

"Such a good girl," Steve mumbled in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. This only fueled your needs.

"More, Bucky. Please…" You had let go of one of his metal hand only to tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him even further into your core. He was groaning against you at your neediness, which sent vibrations throughout your entire body.

You were about to beg again but before the words could even come out, you felt two cold fingers at your entrance before they slowly slid in and bumping into your g-spot, which wasn't something you had ever experienced before.

"B-Bucky… oh my god! What was that?" You were a blubbering mess at this new found sensation.

Looking up at you and only moving his mouth away to say, "You can't tell me no one has ever?-" His fingers were curling up at an agonizing pace, your hips bucking on his hand was the only response he needed before he started moving at a faster pace. You were almost at your peak, legs trembling, as he put his mouth back on you and sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You had never felt this much pleasure before in your life. Only a few more strokes of his hand left and you felt like you had exploded, seeing stars. The sounds you were making and your grip on Bucky's hair had him groaning against you, only heightening your peak and making it more intense. Bucky wasn't done yet though, he was going to drag out your high until you couldn't take anymore, Steve nearly forgotten behind you.

Any words you tried to make were incoherent as Bucky finally slowed down and kissed back up your body. "Such a good girl for us, aren't you, baby?" Chuckling at how you could only nod as a response. The two men would have been happy with at that but you were already sitting up and turning around to give Steve attention, which took them both by surprise.

You were a shy person in general let alone during a situation like this but your orgasm only gave you more confidence. Bucky laid down as you crawled up and straddled Steve. As much as he would love to watch you ride him, you were spent. You looked it to. With a swift motion, you were back on your back, legs spread again as Steve pulled down his pants and his briefs, Bucky following behind shortly.

You knew both of them were packing at the one too many times you had walked in on one of them getting out of the shower so you weren't that surprised to see how big they were in the moment. "I would love to taste you but I can't wait any longer, needa be inside you. Is that alright?" Steve accepted your whimper of a yes and draped his body over yours, giving you a tender kiss before reaching down and running a finger in between your folds and lining himself up to your entrance.

He didn't even need to look up at you for approval, you were already snaking your legs around his hips. "Eager girl, aren't you?" Steve smirked before pressing into you slowly, earning a soft moan from you before rocking his hips slowly as you got used to his size before working up to a faster pace. Both of you moaning and groaning as you raked your nails down his back.

"Fuck, so tight. Don't know how long 'm gonna last." You were already squeezing around, trying to milk him for everything he had.

"F-faster… harder…" You begged and he happily obliged. You didn't care if he didn't last much longer, you knew Bucky wanted a turn and you wanted to give them both a chance at you. "Oh my god, Steve. I'm gonna cum… please." Your begging only made Steve's release come sooner, only letting go when you had reached your peak as well, pulling at his hair as he groaned into your neck before his thrusts slowed to a halt.

You were still catching your breath before the two men swapped places. "Think you can handle one more, peach?" Bucky hovered over, looking for any sign of you wanting to stop. "I sure hope so." You chuckled out of breath still before gasping as Bucky flipped you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his, his hands resting at your hips.

"That's a good girl," lining himself up, Bucky groaned at the wetness that was Steve's release mixed with yours as he pushed in. Steve was longer but Bucky was noticeably thicker as he pushed into you. "You weren't kidding, Steve. So. Fucking. Tight." Bucky growled out. Steve reached over to moved your hair out of your face before Bucky started thrusting into you.

"If it's too much, just say and we'll stop and take care of you." Steve reassured you before nodding to Bucky, encouraging him to pick up the pace.

And he did, his thrusts were relentless but were all for your pleasure. Neither of you would last very long but he wanted this one to be the best orgasm of the night. "Steve," Bucky managed, nodding his head to Steve, motioning for him to touch you. The whine you let out when Steve scooted down to rub feverish circles around your clit which was only bringing your third incredibly intense orgasm of the night only moments away.

"Oh god… of fuck fuck FUCK…" amongst another string of curses cam out of both you and Bucky's mouth as you came, covering Bucky's thighs, Steve's hand, and your comforter. It only took that sight and a couple more thrusts as Bucky was filling you to the brim. "Fuck…." He groaned, "Can't say I've ever had that happen before."

You drop to lay flat on your stomach on the bed, clearly oblivious to you squirting all over the two men and your blanket, only humming in response. "Did you know that you could do that, baby? Did you know you could squirt?" Your eyes widened at Steve as he asked, he took that answer as an obvious 'no' and chuckled softly.

You wished you could move but you were so fucked out that your limbs were limp. Steve got up and grabbed a new t-shirt and underwear for you to put on as Bucky eased out of you, causing another whine from you at the sensation. Steve left the room temporarily just to get a warm washcloth and a different blanket for the three of you as the other one was deemed in need of a wash.

The two cleaned and dressed you before laying out the new blanket over you. Bucky laid down first, pulling you to lay on his chest before Steve crawled behind you, spooning you. You were barely conscious but you heard the small I love you's and praises from them about how good you did. You breathed out a small 'love you too' before falling asleep.

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

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hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it.

Myself included. I am not okay. At all.

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character.

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone.

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead.

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve.

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin.

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes.

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep.

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic.

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo.....

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences.

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while.

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too.

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun.

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works.

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while.

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression.

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it.

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides.

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality.

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this.

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face.

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever.

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat.

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her?

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here?

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine.

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this.

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural.

“I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit.

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it.

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave.

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing.

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing.

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know.

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game?

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey.

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed.

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself?

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her.

This is Clementine.

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home.

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice.

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other.

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again.

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid.

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now.

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him.

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back.

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it.

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on.

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh.

She doesn’t have to run anymore.

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore.

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey.

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.”

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot.

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off.

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless.

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this.

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked.

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible.

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place.

So yeah.... there ya have it.

#twdg #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg louis #twdg violet #i got mad while writing this up #i had to chill and make tea #i don't want to be mean but like.....#this comic makes me mad #it's dumb because it shouldn't make me mad but it does #and because it does that only makes me madder #hahaha #i am just not a happy camper right now #ugh #long post

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binunus · 3 years

Text

college bf!eunwoo

a/n I LOVE HIM !! I WOULD LITERALLY RISK IT ALL FOR HIM !! also rip to the disappointing hookup experience I had that made an appearance in this headcanon...yes I’m still angry about it.

→ pairing: eunwoo x f!reader

→ genre: smut, fluff, fwb to lovers

→ tw: hookup culture, mentions of drinking and drug use, implied almost SA, this is a bit heavy compared to the other ones like please be a cautious a little when you’re reading this

→ word count: 5.6k

_______________________________

here we go ladies and gents

i had something completely different planned for this

and it was super angsty and dramatic

but i had a monumental experience last night so I’m changing this up

and okay okay

i usually try to write all my stuff gender neutral but bc of the idea I have for some of this plot, it’s gonna be a female reader

im sorry to all my male identifying loves :(

and back to our regularly scheduled program

cha motherfuckin eunwoo

lee fuckin dongmin

he doesn’t go by dongmin, he prefers to go by eunwoo, only his family calls him dongmin

as soon as he stepped foot into the university, everyone knew him

and I mean everyone

he’s so attractive

but don’t get it twisted, eunwoo’s the humblest, sweetest bean

he gets very embarrassed when people compliment him for his looks

applied for random roommates his first year and got paired up with swimmer!bin

he and bin become besties and end up rooming together their entire college career

major: music performance, specialty in piano

most people (besides those in the music department or astro) would have never thought eunwoo was a music major, especially since he was incredibly smart and athletic too???

usually gets mistaken for a STEM major

often helps the boys (especially rocky and sanha) with their studies

and oof when he tries out for–and makes it into–the basketball team

everyone ???? floored

eunwoo has game on the court...now with dating??? eh not so much

(at least not sober shh)

he’s tried dating before, at least in the first year or so

the basketball team kept trying to set him up with people

but it never got anywhere substantial and eunwoo always trusted astro to really give the vibe check and no one ever passed

and so he settled for hookup culture every now and then

his emotions are guarded :’(

yes he’s very easy to talk to and always so nice and well mannered

but he’s only himself with astro

now, where do you come into this???

you’re a cheerleader

you and eunwoo know each other by association

you cheer for his home games, you’ve been in a couple of classes together, you’ve seen each other at parties

but would you call yourselves friends?? not really

now you know it’s highly unlikely for you to have a lasting boyfriend in college, especially with your affiliation as a cheerleader, so you also opt for hookup culture

less messy feelings, less drama, less commitment, all that fun

so the first time your paths really intertwine with eunwoo is at a party

the basketball team won a big game and they were out celebrating yuh

and ofc since it’s his team, eunwoo popped out

he only really attends parties hosted by the basketball team bc he feels a bit obligated to go LOL but he always brings swimmer!bin for support

and it’s chill bc bin is also an athlete–yes it’s exclusive like that

but this time, bin couldn’t go so it’s just eunwoo hanging with his team

and yes, you can guess it, you and him get partnered up to play beer pong together!

that’s so cliche omg

but ah ha you hear your opponent, one of eunwoo’s teammates say to one of your fellow cheerleaders: don’t worry baby, I’ll carry you through this game

and you cringed a little ugh men

eunwoo turns to you like: ah sorry if we lose, it’s all luck with me. The guys usually pick to play me bc I’ll probably lose. I’ll drink the cups for you though if you want me to.

you get a little fired up, like aw why do they pick on him that’s not fair

you: well I’m not horrible at pong, so let’s try to crush em

he played pretty well ok! you both got balls back twice in a row right in the beginning

your team was on a roll

you and eunwoo won three games back to back

you were feeling a bit bloated and hazy from the beer that you and him had to drink, but you were still pretty self aware

and you and eunwoo were just chilling after playing the games, you two were on a pretty good wavelength and you wanted to continue it after joking around in between plays

alright now obviously you don’t go into these parties just strictly looking for a hookup, you go to have fun and let loose

but if the person and situation arises??? you wouldn’t necessarily turn it down, especially if that person was cha eunwoo

and yeah, eunwoo was entertaining the idea too, it’s been a while since he vibed with someone like he has with you

basically by the end of the night, you brought him back to your place–you’d rather eat shit than hook up at the basketball house, it was messy and musty and just nope

your place was closer than his

and ~yuh~

it was pretty damn good

he didn’t stay the night, bc well this was a hookup, so after you both had your fill it was a casual alright see you around!

oh lord the fuss your cheerleading team gave you at the next practice asking how your hookup with eunwoo was

the news spread like wildfire

eunwoo didn’t hook up very often so every time he did, it was like breaking news

which is honestly a bit fucked up, but seriously this is how college is

alright so your sex drive skyrocketed after fucking eunwoo

you hook up with another guy at one of the following parties

but it didn’t compare to eunwoo rip so you were pretty disappointed

and you were sorta wondering like hm? should you hit him up? but decided against it

and then! you saw him at the gym working out with literally all of astro

bin probably forced the other 4 to come with him and eunwoo sksksksk

and you were like shit why does he look so good

not gonna lie, just in case he was looking over, you tried to make your ass and tits pop out a bit more, you know squats and shit

unfortunately, it caught the attention of other guys at the gym and not eunwoo grrr

and you were literally just planning to stop being a coward and go up and talk to him, but a guy blocked your path

and he was lowkey being very creepy and way too close for your liking

but you weren’t having it, hell no you ain’t a damsel in distress

being a cheerleader taught you how to defend yourself against predatory men

so you were basically telling him to fuck off and leave you alone, but he was being really damn persistent about it

and just as the guy was about to put a hand on you, eunwoo steps in and he’s like: dude, she’s clearly not interested, fuck off.

after a bit of a stare off, the guy leaves and wow you’re face to face with eunwoo again hehehe

his eyes switch from a glare to a soft worried look and he’s like, hey are you okay?

and you’re like a little giddy, maybe also a little bit turned on bc he’s still like fresh from a workout, his hair was brushed back revealing his forehead, his arm muscles were really defined right now, and just he’s so hot?

but you smile nonchalantly, you genuinely could have just slapped the shit out of the guy or kicked him right in the baby factory, but eunwoo stepping in was also a pleasant surprise, you weren’t complaining

you: yeah. I could have handled it, but thanks for helping

and he just grins, your confidence?? attractive

the two of you just like look at each other for a couple seconds and you’re yelling at yourself in your head like don’t cop out this is what you were waiting for !!

you: so...you’re here with your friends?

eunwoo: yeah, me and my roommate forced them to come work out with us haha. did you come by yourself?

you: yeah, I usually work out with my teammates, but I decided to come alone today

eunwoo nods and you see him like look at your neck and you immediately get a bit shy bc you knew there was a hickey there from your last (very disappointing) hookup: you’ve been having fun recently?

your face flushes: the last one was embarrassing really, so honest to god no

eunwoo: why was it embarrassing? if...you don’t mind me asking

you immediately facepalm: no, yeah I don’t mind telling you...ugh, eunwoo I was literally catfished. this guy really talked mad game about his dick and then when I agreed to hook up, he asked me to suck him off and it literally only took him less than ten minutes. and after he came, he just pulled up his pants and said “damn you give really good head” like the fuck? he didn’t even offer to return the favor or anything, and when I asked him “wait, are we gonna fuck?” he just said “maybe next time.” maYbE neXt tiMe?? I was played so hard, you have no idea how pissed I was, eunwoo. and now I have to wait for his dumb fucking hickey to heal so that I can literally just repress that hookup even happened.

his jaw literally dropped: he didn’t give you anything?

you shook your head, you were getting pissed again

eunwoo couldn’t believe his ears, he glances back at astro for a second and then he clears his throat: well...what are you doing after the gym?

you: nothing, just going home and taking a shower. My roommate’s not gonna be home tonight so I’m probably gonna wallow in my sorrows about that hookup again

he laughs: well sounds like you have a fun night planned, but if you want some company?? I’d be more than happy to come over and help you forget about the sad disrespect of that hookup.

who said eunwoo couldn’t flirt ???

and he was thinking about hitting you up again too before but he didn’t wanna seem like a fuckboy or anything

but seeing you defend yourself against the guy?? lowkey was a bit of turn on for him

obviously you agreed hello

eunwoo going up to astro: so uh...imma head out first...I’ll see you guys later. :)

sanha: hyung so scandalous *O*

you and eunwoo fuck again

and after this time, the two of you have a little bit of pillow talk

basically you tell him that fucking him ruined all other guys for you bc he was just that good

and eunwoo usually gets shy from compliments, but his ego with this one??? he felt a bit proud ohohoho

and he’s like: honestly, you’re the only person I’ve fucked in six months, but I gotta agree that our sexual chemistry is pretty good

so where do you two go from there?

friends with benefits baby, full on fuck buddies

you both talk and agree that you two weren’t looking for relationships at the moment, but the sex was good

i’m gonna get into specifics later, but for now a little more plot

obviously, you and eunwoo talk a lot more now that you two were basically fucking each other at least once a week

the guys notice that he’s so much more?? carefree?? less stressed out?? ever since you and him started your little agreement

and they’re already scheming by themselves, like eunwoo would not get into a situation like this unless he trusted you as a person

and at first it was really just, call each other over, have sex, stay for a little bit longer, then leave

neither of you ever stayed the night bc that’s just an unspoken rule

until there was this one party, a group of people were in one of the rooms at the basketball house and they told you to come join them and ~do drugs~

don’t dabble kids, I’m serious

and you were chilling with eunwoo and bin for a bit until they called you over and you were like: wanna try too?

eunwoo and bin didn’t do it obviously, but you were curious so you went and told them you would be back in a bit

eunwoo was worried about you, bin could see it from a mile away

he kept glancing back at the room and one by one people started to come out, but none of them were you

bin nudging eunwoo: go check up on her

eunwoo opens the door to see you being like pinned down on the bed and he turns livid

he pulls the guy off you and punches him right in the face like: what the fuck do you think you’re doing? what did you give her?

you’re noticeably out of it, sobriety? not there

the guy basically laced something in the drug he gave you, omg you were roofied??

bin comes in and he literally has to hold eunwoo back from beating the shit out of the other guy

the two take you back to their apartment and were making sure that you didn’t die or something shit

literally cannot believe the first time you slept over at eunwoo’s place was when you were drugged up

you wake up the next morning, nauseous, body weak, and confused

eunwoo also wakes up because of your movement: hey y/n, are you okay?

you: eunwoo...what...what happened last night??

he sits up and gives you a recount of the party and you just like hug your body tightly when he brings up the drugs and start crying

he’s a bit shocked when he sees your tears, but he just pulls you in for a hug to try and comfort you, obviously that must have been a bit traumatic

eunwoo: hey...it’s okay...I’m just glad I checked up on you before something worse happened

you: I’m such a fucking idiot...I can’t believe I let myself get put in that situation again...no wonder people think I’m a just a dumb whore.

~trauma~

you and him spill your deepest darkest most traumatizing secrets that morning and you just feel more connected to him

you: I honestly never really told anyone...thanks eunwoo, you’re a good friend.

he feels more protective of you after that??

you start hanging around with him and astro more

and the guys really like having you around !!

you’re very easy to get along with, you also joke and tease eunwoo with them, they love you !

you even become really friendly with the other guys’ partners

about half a year into your fuck buddy relationship with eunwoo

everyone: why aren’t you dating y/n yet?

eunwoo: what do you mean?? we’re just friends...with benefits??

before you even know it, you’re spending literally all your time (when you’re not training or practicing or at class) with eunwoo and his friends

you sleep more at eunwoo’s than you do at your own apartment

honestly you two are already acting like a couple

except for the fact that you only kiss each other when you’re fucking, or you don’t hold hands in public, or you don’t say the L word to each other obviously

but the cuddles? the jokes? the hanging out? if you two are seen together there’s still a little form of physical touch––like a hand on the waist, or resting his elbow on your shoulder––something that tells other people that you two are a bit exclusive to each other

and maybe it’s because both of your emotional capacities when it comes to relationships are akin to a pubescent thirteen year old, but you and eunwoo?? don’t really realize that you’re both basically in love with each other

and it’s also the fact that catching feelings in a friends with benefits?? forbidden

but what if both people catch feelings?

you don’t realize you like eunwoo until a year of fucking each other

damn a year?? y’all really suppressed those romantic feelings hard

you and him were hanging out, per usual, but in the piano rooms of the music building

eunwoo had to practice his repertoire for an upcoming performance and you were free so you decided to come along and keep him company

you knew he was a music major and that he played piano, but you never actually heard him play

you were just chilling by the window, scrolling through your phone, and then he just starts playing and your jaw?? literally dropped

it was so intricate and fluid and elegant, you looked over to the keys and his hands just moved so expertly over them

you were put in a trance, it was so beautiful??

and then you look up and his concentration? seriousness? he has honestly never looked more attractive to you than in that moment

and then eunwoo meets your eyes and he smiles a little: is it bad?

you: no, you’re amazing actually...

and your stomach does a triple somersault and your cheeks start heating up, like why is your heart going haywire???

you start spacing out and obviously he notices

eunwoo calls your name and pats the space next to him on the piano bench

eunwoo: what are you thinking of, hm?

you: n-nothing. keep playing, I wanna hear more

and so he does and your heart just won’t chill out, especially now that you’re literally sitting mere centimeters apart from him

he’s still playing and you just can’t stop thinking about how much you want to kiss him–and not in a sexual way

and that honestly scared you, so you panicked and put your hand near his crotch

eunwoo jolts in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything, he just chuckles and continues playing

do you have sex in the piano room to try and distract yourself from whatever you were feeling? yeah

you hide your feelings for a little bit, but the more time you spent with him, the stronger they got, and you honestly didn’t know what to do

so you tried distancing yourself, you gave eunwoo the excuse that cheerleading competitions were coming up–which they were, so it wasn’t a complete lie–and you needed to focus and have time to yourself

it was so weird for you not seeing him and astro all the time, you barely responded to his text messages or calls, and when you saw him around campus, you would immediately try to avoid him, and it hurt but you were ~scared~

eunwoo’s a smart boy, he knew something was off with you

but after a week of trying to contact you, he didn’t wanna seem annoying or a bother, so he tried not to

even though all he wanted was to see you or talk to you, like it was beyond sex at this point

he missed you, he thought he was going to go insane

he didn’t realize his feelings for you until he saw you talking to a guy in the athletic building

he had basketball practice, and you just finished your cheerleading practice

you were talking to this one guy from your philosophy class, basically joking around and talking shit about your professor

and eunwoo saw you smile at something the guy said and he just felt jealous

his fists clenched, he hated seeing you smile and laugh with the guy like how you used to do with him

and it also didn’t help that you and him haven’t really talked in two or three weeks and he just missed you so much :(

he tried not to think about it during his practice, but it didn’t work, he was off his game for this one, even his teammates and coach noticed it

he went back to his place after practice and called over the boys and basically vented his frustrations

jin: eunwoo. you like y/n

eunwoo: I know...fuck what do I do

bin: tell her, obviously

eunwoo: and risk our?? friendship??

myungjun: you’re a fucking idiot if you don’t see that she likes you back

rocky: yeah...I mean why else do you think noona started distancing herself from you?

eunwoo: maybe I’m just feeling like this because we haven’t met up in a while and I saw her talking to that guy and I don’t know? I’m horny?

sanha: hyung...you sound indenial and jealous.

bin: you like her. we’re surprised you didn’t realize this earlier.

anyway, the day of the competition comes, and the guys and their partners decide to pop out and support you

and seeing them actually made you feel so warm, you wave at them brightly and you meet eyes with eunwoo and you smile at him even though the butterflies are back and at full force

the group is so proud watching you and your team compete, their cheers are debatably the loudest and you literally have to stop yourself from laughing in the middle of your routine

your school places first yuh

and after talking with your team and discussing celebration plans, you go to the group

you were having such an adrenaline rush, you immediately run up to eunwoo in a crushing hug and you kiss him

eunwoo doesn’t even hesitate to kiss you back

astro and them: ohohoho hey

you: I’m so happy you all came! I can’t believe we actually won!

you were going to celebrate with your team bc you knew they were throwing a party, but celebrating with eunwoo and astro/their partners seemed way more appealing to you

you all go out to dinner and drink a little bit casually and it’s all such good vibes

you missed hanging around with them all and it just felt so right

eunwoo rested his hand on your thigh the whole time throughout dinner, he missed you alright, and just seeing you so happy with all his friends? he was hooked

when the group parts ways, it’s just you and eunwoo heading back to his place bc bin is spending the night at his partner’s apartment

and honestly the tension is so thick between you two

you barely make it past the door before you’re both latched onto each other, making out and all that steamy stuff

after you have sex, the two of you are having that post-sex cuddle in his bed and your heart is pounding so loud

you: hey...I’m sorry if it was weird that I kissed you earlier at the venue, I don’t really know what came over me, I was just so glad to see you guys

eunwoo: you don’t have to apologize for that y/n...I missed you

you roll around so that your back is to him bc you do not have the strength to look at him in the eyes right now

eunwoo hugs your waist and pulls you in his chest, he’s spooning you and he has no plans on letting you go any time soon

you: uh...eunwoo, I-we-uh maybe we should stop this...thing from going any further

he literally freezes: ...did I do something wrong?

you: no! it’s...I...fuck I don’t know how to say this...I know we’ve been hooking up for a year but just recently I...think I have feelings for you...and it’s not fair for either of us to continue this if we’re not on the same page.

eunwoo: y/n, I–

you’re rambling now, you’re scared of what he has to say: and honestly you’ve become someone I really don’t wanna lose in my life. You’re an amazing person and friend, and I don’t wanna fuck that up by having feelings for you, especially since you probably don’t feel the same. I just...can’t have casual sex with you anymore...I’m sorry, it would break me.

you’re like trying to get up and you tell him that you’re going to go to the party your team’s hosting but he just tightens his grip

eunwoo: don’t go...please

you: eunwoo, I can’t stay here–

eunwoo: you don’t even know what I feel, y/n...why are you so sure that I don’t feel the same way as you?? because I do...honest to god, y/n, I like you so fucking much. the month that you didn’t talk to me was like hell and I don’t ever wanna experience that again. I missed you so much I thought I was going crazy...please don’t go.

you roll around and face him again

you: y-you like me? you’re not just saying that because you want to keep having sex?

eunwoo: I’m not just saying that because of the sex...I promise

you: so...what does that make us now?

eunwoo: well would you do me the honors and be my girlfriend?

god finally you two are dating

you realize that not much really changes after the two of you make it official

the pda does increase though, you actually hold hands and kiss each other in public now

and you two are more cutesy with each other

yes astro pretends to gag whenever they see you act all coupley

petnames!! you call each other baby, sometimes you call him minnie!! as in dongminnie !! im screaming!!

a poster couple, the basketball player and the cheerleader

literally when you’re both wearing your uniforms and you kiss each other, it’s like one of those teen movies

lots of forehead kisses especially right before bed

eunwoo’s a clingy cuddly boy, especially now that you two are together

lots of study dates?? he is a scholar after all

you’re each other’s biggest supporters !! you always go to all of his recitals and basketball games, he always goes to your competitions

he’s very soft okay, will never stop showing you off or telling you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you

the first I love you came shortly in the relationship, and that’s because you’ve known each other a year prior and the feelings were really just building up since then

you were in the piano room again and he was just playing for fun, but you always loved hearing him ~tickle those ivories~

he was playing a song and singing along and you swear you had heart eyes for him, his voice was so soft and gentle and just wow

you’re sitting next to him and you just hug his waist while he’s playing

eunwoo’s smiling so wide and then he’s singing to you

he doesn’t even get to finish the song, because you’re grabbing his face and kissing him

he’s laughing in between kisses and you can’t help but laugh with him

grrr he’s so cute!

and then you two are just looking at each other

eunwoo: hm?

you: I love you, minnie

he doesn’t miss a beat: I love you too, y/n

you and him have a lot of deep talks together, especially right before bed

it’s the time when he can just let out all the frustrations of the day and just be with you

he actually holds a lot of pressure and worries, but knowing that you’re by his side, comforts him a lot

the two of you have so many pictures together it’s so cute

eunwoo’s a bit possessive alright, not in the toxic way, but will he tighten his grip on your waist if a guy seems to be getting a little too friendly with you? yeah

not gonna lie, you get possessive too, it’s hard especially if your boyfriend is cha eunwoo, he’s the fucking perfect package god dammit

you both tell each other that you don’t have to worry about other people bc y’all are just both so whipped for each other

but it’s still cute when either of you are jealous

he’s actually pretty into couple items, but it has to be like minimalistic-style

like matching plain color hoodies or matching pajama sets

will not wear a “he’s mine, she’s mine” shirt or something

but it’s okay bc neither would you sksksk

will he wink at you if he makes a three pointer during his game? yeah.

literally loves when you wear his clothes or fuck, his jersey?? a turn on

and here we go !! I’ve been talking about sex so much but let’s get into it !!

in the beginning, like before you two started dating, when it was just your fuck buddy friendship, it was sexy

and not saying that it’s not sexy now that you two were in a relationship, but before it was just lust

eunwoo’s a freak alright, you can’t convince me otherwise

he’s a little kinky

definitely into food play, you two use whipped cream during foreplay a little too much...

100% into anal

you know how much he loves ass, has a very nice ass himself

and we already been knew, but yes he’s an ass guy

s p a n k i n g

eunwoo seeing you in your cheerleading skirt? immediate turn on

will literally fuck you while you’re wearing your skirt...just your skirt.

alright alright, you have a hand kink...was it awoken by watching eunwoo play piano all the time? yes

does eunwoo use that to his advantage? yes

the amount of times he’s fingered you??? vaginal and anal??? lord have mercy

very much into overstimulation, will keep fingering you until you squirt

and yes im bringing back my the choking kink

literally if his hands make any contact with your neck area, even when he’s just kissing, you will drench

but ugh you and eunwoo making out and you know how he like cups the back of the neck?? i know y’all have seen it from the true beauty kiss scenes, and then it gets heated and his grip just moves to the front and squeezes and when your mouth opens in a gasp, he shoves his tongue down your throat

that’s so sexy

do you like choking on his cock? probably more than you should

does he make you deep throat until tears are literally streaming down your face? most definitely

he loves marking you?? it’s just a tell tale way to show everyone you’re his

he’s a bit feisty...will he manhandle you during sex?? yeah

eunwoo is a dom. I am 100% convinced that he is a dom, you won’t be domming him honey

daddy and babygirl kink...I said it...

okay he’s a bit of an exhibitionist...would probably be down to have sex anywhere as long as you don’t get caught

piano room sex? locker room sex? library sex? movie theater sex? restaurant bathroom sex? yes you’ve done it all

will he finger you while you guys are having a movie night with the guys? yeah

eunwoo’s a tease, he’s a little shit, will tease you until you’re literally in tears begging for him to just do something

favorite position is doggy, it’s the view of the ass for him

although you two both do like experimenting different positions, especially if it has to do with “training your flexibility”

will pull your hair while he’s fucking you from behind, and will plug your asshole with his thumb–don’t knock it until you try it...it’s...a pretty good feeling

sometimes wakes you up by eating you out

very much a giver ugh king

the type to grip your thighs tighter when you try to push him away from overstimulation just to force another orgasm out of you

believe it or not, he’s a gasper/grunter/groaner

nothing is hotter than hearing eunwoo groan right when he’s about to cum oooof grrrr bark bark

okay but soft gentle sex with eunwoo is so passionate

all you feel is the love and sincerity, especially when he’s just looking in your eyes

the love making happens a lot more obviously when you start dating

he’s just so in love with you alright

gives the best and sweetest after care ugh

cleans you up, gives you massages especially if it was a rough session, cuddles you, draws you a bath, brings you water, everything

always makes sure to tell you he loves you after sex

i would risk it all for eunwoo like please ruin my life

anyway

ugh I just wanna put the idea of protective eunwoo during a party in your head

his hand is always on you. waist, thigh, shoulder, anywhere casually

you don’t fight?? but you do argue

arguing is healthy, and you both would rather let it out and bicker with each other in the moment than let it bottle in and build up into something worse

but when you do have a disagreement, no matter how big or small, you two always make sure to never go to bed angry with each other

communication is very important for the both of you

you’re his better half :’) all the things eunwoo struggles with, you help him with it and vice versa

he figured out you were the one for him during one of your deep late night pillow talks

he was worried about what he’d do in the future after graduating, like he was genuinely having a crisis about it

but you just talked so calmly to him: baby, no matter where you end up after graduation or what you end up doing, you’re going to be fine. You’re such a hard worker and I know that you’ll succeed...no matter what, I’ll be here for you minnie. I believe in you, you’re future is going to be great.

and he just kisses you so sweetly: will you be in my future, baby?

you’re smiling and you just giggle at him: if you want me to be...I’d love to be a part of it.

ugh y’all are so whipped for each other !!

astro always teasing you two, even when you’re all older

you and eunwoo are equally ticklish so basically y’all are fucked when they wanna mess with you

both of your families love you and him instantly

they push marriage immediately after you both graduate college

even astro’s like: we know you two are probably gonna tie the knot first...when’s the wedding?

not gonna lie, you and eunwoo probably get married probably 2-3 years after college, pretty young age

sidenote: eunwoo 100% cries at your wedding, especially when he sees you walking down the isle in your dress

and he has huge baby fever so you bet y’all had kids fairly young too

the best dad !! ugh he loves kids !! ugh so domestic

im just gonna say, y’all have beautiful children

trusts bin and jinjin to babysit your kids the most...he’s scared of the rest of the boys watching over his children

anyway eunwoo literally deserves the world and I just?? love him so much?? happy ending yay hehe

_________________________________________

2-21-21

839 notes · View notes

cc-writesfor2dcharacters · 3 years

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Hi how are you doing? Can I request Yuji, Megumi, Inumaki, Gojo and Nanami ( if it's too much you can reduce to whatever boys you prefer ) reacting to their ( gender-neutral or a female ) s/o's cursed techniques similar to magical girl. Like they need to transform, their attack are very cutesy, and etc. Sorry and it's okay if you can't do it or my request is confusing.

A/N: Sure! This one was kinda challenging to write since I haven't watched any magical girl anime for so long and it was hard to describe how will they transform. But, I hope you enjoy and like this one! <33 Cheers to my first request!!!

Here are the JJK boys reacting to their S/O who has a cursed technique similar to a magical girl:

Itadori Yuji

Oh, this boy was in awe, I swear. He literally had heart eyes when he first saw your technique. He stood there, frozen, as he watched you transform into like a goddess he usually sees in fantasy comics and anime he watches. The necklace you have is the one that activates your technique. After he blinked, you were already in this pretty ballerina form and you were glowing like a real goddess. You approached the cursed spirit as fast as you could so you could get momentum. You channeled your cursed energy into your right foot and kicked the cursed spirit, causing it to fly away due to the heavy impact of both your cursed energy and the technique. And, when you blew a kiss to that grade 1 cursed spirit, bubbles were sent throughout the area. Yuji gasped in admiration for you. He thought, “How could someone as cute as Y/N be this strong?” as your bubbles trapped the grade 1 cursed spirit. Yuji forgot that you guys were fighting two grade 1 cursed spirits. And, the one he was supposed to beat attacked him from behind. He had let his guard down and was on the defense side as he was avoiding the cursed spirit’s attack. But, he was still checking out on you, and he pouted thinking how that costume is actually not fit for fighting. Sukuna had to eventually wake Yuji up from his daydream. “Brat! Stop looking at your girl’s ass and focus. If you die, I die.” But, when he was about to finish that cursed spirit off, you already did the work for him. He was trying to cheer you up since your technique wears off the energy in your body. So, you were immediately exhausted after that fight. On the train, as you were sleeping on his shoulder, he took your hand and compared it to his. He caressed your hair and kissed your forehead. He whispered to you, “Oh, Y/N, your technique made me realized I should be more protective around you. You’re still fragile, but I’ll be here for you every step of the way.” And Sukuna had to interrupt his moment and laughed, “Brat, it’s a matter of time until that girl surpasses you. She’s hot and will become stronger. Ha! Never seen that technique in my years. So, watch out for your girl.” Yuji had to slap the side of his face to make him shut up. Every now and then, when you two have a mission, he secretly wishes you’ll activate your technique. But, you learned your lesson not to since he gets distracted.

Fushiguro Megumi

You were aware that Megumi wanted to see you transform and use your technique when you heard Nobara talk about how cool you looked. So, that’s why on your mission, he asked if you could bring your sword since you two will be fighting plenty of low-grade cursed spirits. He said he wanted to finish the mission as soon as he could, but he just wanted to see what Nobara saw. When you two got to the place, you two were not aware that a grade 1 cursed spirit would be here. He released his Nue to fend off the lower grade cursed spirits. You knew you two were in trouble, that’s why, you did the stance to activate your technique, your katana in front of your face as you held it tightly, and a strong wind blew throughout the area causing the grade 1 cursed spirit to be pushed back a little. As soon as Megumi’s attention turned to you, his eyes widened to see you with wings, and your skirt became shorter. You knew where he was looking, and this boy forgot about the shikigami he released. He wants this to be finished now, so you did it for him. You ran to the cursed spirit, and with your katana bursting with cursed energy alongside the wind you collected, you easily took off the cursed spirit’s head, causing it to disintegrate into thin air. When you came down from the air, you didn’t know what was going on in his head. “An angel.” You gulped as you heard those words from him. He didn’t realize that he said his thoughts out loud, so he felt kind of shy at the moment. It was loud enough for you to hear, causing you to blush. You helped him get up from the ground and he wiped off his butt. “Thank you for saving me, Y/N. I-I was distracted.” He shyly looked away from you, as a blush crept on his face. “Come on, I’ve been wanting to take you out on a date that’s why I wanted to finish this quickly.” All of a sudden, he grabbed your hand as you started to walk off. He’s a man of few words and wasn’t a fan of PDA. But, he’s been like this ever since he saw your technique. He told you that he was both terrified and in love with you. And, that’s probably one of the best compliments you’ve gotten from him so far.

Inumaki Toge

He was assigned to accompany you on your promotion mission. He knew about the technique you have, which is why you were recommended by Mei-Mei to become a grade 2 sorcerer. He wished you good luck by giving you a thumbs up and a light pat on the head. It was his way of telling you that he’ll be looking out for you in case you struggle. The cursed spirit was fast, and you could feel its bloodlust. You didn’t hesitate to activate your technique. It was rushing towards you, so you immediately took out the device you use in order to activate my technique. You imbued the device with a fair amount of cursed energy, enough to defeat this cursed spirit. It was taking its time to activate, and you caught a glimpse of Inumaki unzipping the zipper that covered his mouth. But, you wanted to prove to him that you’re worthy to be a grade 2 sorcerer. And, right in time, the device sent a blinding light causing both Inumaki and the cursed spirit to flinch. You were transformed with fairy wings, and a sparkly dress. He accidentally said, “Wow.” and he was caught off guard. Your eyes widened in surprise to hear him use his voice not for techniques or for his safe words. He alerted you and screamed, “Behind you!” You pointed the light to the cursed spirit, red lights in the form of little hearts came out. The light pierced the cursed spirit’s body with small holes. To finish it off, you slowly flapped your wings to send off beautiful but poisonous dust. And, the cursed energy within you bursts even more as the cursed spirit still wouldn’t die. When you eventually finished it off, you fell to the ground, breathless. You’ve never wasted your cursed energy that much before. It’s just that a part of you wanted to prove to your boyfriend that you can be relied on. He ran towards you and cupped your face. Using his free hand, he did a sign language which translated into You did really well, Y/N. I’m proud of you, remember that. You’re so strong and beautiful. I love you. Tears almost fell out of your eyes as he appreciated you. You hugged him and he hugged you back even tighter. He noticed that your wings were starting to fade and accidentally spoke again and said, “No!” He adorably pouted at you, and you comforted him. “You really liked my technique, huh? Even if I wanted to show you, it might hurt you.” He did another sign language which translated to You were so cute. I just want to wrap you in my arms. You smiled so widely and stood up. You helped him get up, “Then let’s go back and cuddle.” He has never been that excited before.

Gojo Satoru

He was being a little bit of an asshole to you when he found out about your technique. Being born from a family of sorcerers, who secluded themselves from the jujutsu world, he instantly fell in love with you when you two first met. And he was the first one outside of your family to know of your technique. But, the two of you are in for a mission, well it was a solo mission for you, but he tagged along just to see you use your technique over and over again. There have been numerous grade 3 and 4 cursed spirits running around. When you two arrived at the place, you were both shocked to see almost 50 of them, who varied in size, speed, and strength. You were a little scared, and when you were about to back down, Gojo held your back to stop you from going backward and said, “Show me that technique as beautiful as you.” You don’t know what he did to you, but you immediately obeyed. That’s when he stepped back and put his hands in his pocket. He even sat down and had his chin resting on his palm as he watched you. It’s always fun for him to see you and your technique, it was like a show. You snapped your fingers two times to make you transform. Darkness started to envelop the sky, and you knew so well that Gojo is smirking as he will see you in a cute short skirt, and a golden corset. When the darkness faded, you raised your hand like you were pointing a gun in the sky. That’s when you sent lightning on every cursed spirit there was, and electrocuted them. He started to activate his infinity so your lightning wouldn't affect him. His jaw dropped (the picture is the reference) as he stared at you and watched the cursed spirit struggle from your lightning. This is always a pleasant sight for Gojo to watch. There were no people other than him who pointed their hands like a gun to use their technique. It fascinates him and makes him love you even more. It ended sooner than you expected. You were about to remove your technique and Gojo stopped you. “No can do, baby girl. You finished your mission in the blink of an eye, and I haven’t fully enjoyed you in this cute get-up.” He whined as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “You’re always so cool to watch.” He complimented you. It was rare to hear that coming from the "Strongest". But, with you he will shower you with every compliment there is in the world. The reason for that is to see you smile, and well, to persuade you to use your technique later so he could fanboy on his own girlfriend.

Nanami Kento

He was always calm and collected, but he couldn't stop thinking about the first time he saw you use your technique. When you transformed into somewhat of a cat, with cat ears and tail, and you were sparkling like the stars. He thought that you were the cutest human being there is to exist. That technique gives you speed and great mobility. Your nails become like claws and it can rip apart a cursed spirit in an instant. Like Yuji, he was in awe but was still aware of other lower grade cursed spirits lingering around the vicinity. He killed all the cursed spirits so easily just to check if you were still in your cat form. Lucky for him, he saw you scratched the grade 2 cursed spirit from its head all the way to its feet. You perfectly controlled your cursed energy, and the big cursed spirit was killed in an instant. He thought, "Y/N's so cute but that technique's dangerous." He noticed that you were limping a little bit, but that was when you sprained your ankle from jumping too high. He thought it was a casualty from your technique, and that made him worry about you. "Next time don't use your technique, love. It hurts you." He said with his tone filled with worry for you. You laughed at him and replied, "Kento, I jumped too high and landed badly. So, it was my fault, not my technique." He fixed his glasses as he looked away from you. He was trying to hide as you noticed that he blushed a little. "I see. Then, can you use that again so I can see?" He shyly asked and that made you laugh even more. "And why do you want to see it?" You mischievously smiled at him as you crossed your arms. "Because it was cute. But, you're beautiful even in your human form." He flatly answered, but the blush on his face didn't fade. "You're cute when you're flustered like this." You spent the night teasing him about what happened. And, starting from that day, he always argues with Gojo to have him go with you on your mission. He just makes the "It's too dangerous for her" excuse. But, Gojo knows how cute you really are when using that technique, and Kento's just being a protective boyfriend. Up to this day, he won’t admit how he falls in love with you, even more, when he sees you transform.

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

#tf #draco malfoy #dracotok #tom felton #tom felton x y/n #tom felton imagine #british toms #felton #tom felton fluff #tom felton angst #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #tom x reader #tom felton x reader #dad tom

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dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

And Dusk

A/N: Prayers for poor Olga 🙏🏾

Warnings: blood, violence, straight up murder

Word Count: 4096

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Chapter 13: Öga för Öga

Clicking steps echoed the hall Sir Reginald Hargreeves currently walked down, leaving a very discontent Five behind. Once the man disappeared down the hall, the boy left the lounge, growling and rubbing the back of his neck. Mind racing, he hopped on the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. Just as the doors were about to close, (Y/N) slipped between them, Pennycrumb under her arm, and grasped onto Five’s arm. Eyes wide, the boy watched her in shock. “(Y/N)? I thought you left already. What are you doing?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispered. “Five, I’m sorry… about lying to you. I-I was gonna tell you all about living with Dad a-and being adopted by him again, but then I didn’t and it was selfish and stupid-”

“(Y/N)-”

“But what I’m sorry about the most was for not speaking up about us. It wasn’t fair to you,” She shook her head. “I just… I’ve been doubtful about us lately. It’s like, everyone’s saying we shouldn’t be together… And after hearing it for so long…”

Five placed his hands on her shoulders firmly. “No,” He breathed. “I’ve waited too long for this, dammit. Listen to me, (Y/N). Don’t let what others say determine your opinions. What we have is fine. I know it seems fucked up, I know it seems wrong. But does any of this ever feel wrong to you?”

Glancing up at him, she shook her head. “No…”

“Exactly. This… Our entire upbringing was so dysfunctional and confusing. Nothing ever felt like true family. We were strangers in our own childhood home. We’re just now behaving like an actual family unit and it’s still confusing. So, no one has the right to tell us how to love. Especially not Reginald Hargreeves. The man who caused this.”

The two rested their foreheads against each other as the elevator doors opened, but they didn’t bother leaving just yet. As the doors closed again, (Y/N) sniffled. “So, you’ve never thought this wasn’t going to last?”

“I’ve never, ever doubted us. I know… compared to you, I know next to nothing about love. But this? This is real. And I promise you, Starlight, once the timeline is restored… I’m making this official. If you’ll have me.”

Snapping her head up, (Y/N) let her tears fall. “Are you… You’re serious?” She grinned. When Five nodded, she quickly elevated herself on her toes and pecked his lips repeatedly. “Yes. Finally.” She whispered. Five grinned and tightened his hold on her, blinking them both out of the building and outside.

“Well, then, why don’t we speed up the process? Here’s what's going to happen,” He started and pulled away, gently wiping her tears away. “I’m about to meet up with The Handler. She offered me a deal to kill the entire board of directors of the Commission in exchange for a briefcase to get us all home to 2019. No more World War III, no more apocalypse.”

(Y/N) glanced down at her pup, who peered up at her, tongue hanging from his mouth. “How can you trust her?”

“I don’t know if I even should. But I’ll have to. She’s our only… our only option.”

From the way he sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, she could tell he was already regretting his decision. Gently caressing his cheek, she offered him a small smile. “You don’t want to kill, do you?” She whispered, receiving the shake of a head as an answer. “I-I don’t even know what to say to that… Just… Just know that I won’t think any differently of you. You’ll still be my Five. And I’ll be right there beside you if you need me.”

“My god, I don’t deserve you…” He sighed. Quietly chuckling, (Y/N) set her pet down and pulled Five into a hug. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I appreciate you, I really do. I’m gonna get us out of here, but I don’t want you helping me on this. The Handler already knows about you. I can’t have her using you or anything like that against me. So… just wait for me.”

“Wait? Five, I can’t just let you do something like this alone.”

“I know I’ve asked you too many times at this point, but this will be the last. I promise I’ll get you as soon as I come back.” The boy tried a smile as he pulled away. When she gently bit her lip, he sighed. “(Y/N), you can’t come. I’m sorry, but you’ll be by my side after this is over. I promise, okay?”

She shifted her eyes away from him. “You don’t have to keep promising. I trust you.” She whispered. Five exhaled and gently picked up Mr Pennycrumb, placing him in her arms before pecking his love on the lips. With a small smile, he turned around to leave. Just as he blinked away, (Y/N) very gently pinched the back of his blaser, allowing herself and her pet to be teleported with him.

(Y/N) considered herself very lucky for the fact that Five hadn’t noticed her presence. Or maybe she had her stealth to thank. She would quickly duck behind walls, corners, tables and so on whenever she felt that Five was becoming suspicious of her. After all, she knew him like the back of her hand; she could tell when he was subtly glancing over his shoulder or out of the corner of his eye. She waited outside the door of the room the boy had entered, keeping her hand over her pet’s mouth to silence him as she attempted to eavesdrop on the muffled conversation between Five and who she assumed was The Handler.

She had to admit, it did set her blood boiling at the thought of him being alone in that room with another woman, but she knew he would never be disloyal to her. Not after his confession and proposal. So, she shook off her jealousy and hid once again when he exited the room, briefcase in hand.

She gave herself a great pat on the back when she successfully managed to blink with him for the second time. And the third. And when he used the briefcase to teleport. By this point, she was light-headed and nursing her whimpering pup as she followed Five from a distance. She had no idea where or when they were, but judging by the cars people drove and the hairstyles they wore, she wasn’t in the sixties anymore. Most likely the late seventies or early eighties, she assumed.

Setting Mr Pennycrumb on the ground, (Y/N) grabbed hold of his leash and kept a close eye on her love as she blended in as a teenage girl, in outdated clothing, walking her puppy towards an inn. After watching Five enter, she walked onto the porch and sat herself in one of the rocking chairs. She tapped her fingers and toes to the rhythm of the upbeat polka music sounding from the inside. To pass the time, she reviewed tricks with Mr Pennycrumb, clapping and excitedly petting him in praise whenever he’d succeed. What the puppy expected, though, was a treat. It was then that she realized neither of them had eaten in quite some time.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby…” She whispered to the pup, who only whined and pawed at her ankles. Huffing, she jumped to her feet and led the two of them inside. Everyone seemed to be dressed for polka dancing, considering their attire and the music playing from a nearby room. With a polka party, there had to be food. Turning to her left, she was met with a nest of blonde curls. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Well, hi there,” The woman looked up with a jolly smile. “I just told the young man before you, we don’t put out the cookies until three.”

“That’s amazing,” (Y/N) smiled. “I was actually wondering where the… polka dancing takes place.”

The woman assessed the young girl with a raised brow. “Very… interesting choice of clothing. And I’m afraid we can’t allow the dog.”

“Ah- Yes, my mom’s actually in there with my clothes. I just need to find her and change. And this is her… service dog.”

“He looks a little young to be a service dog, sweetie.”

“That’s what I told the doctor,” (Y/N) chuckled, smiling down at her pup. “But he does his job very well for the cute little thing he is. However, he cannot do his job if he isn’t at my mom’s side, so…”

Sighing, the woman gestured to her left. “All the way down that hall, dear. Just keep an eye on the dog, will ya?”

“Of course. Thank you.” She nodded before leading her and Pennycrumb in the direction of the room jumping with cheery music and the clicking of dancing feet. She found herself a table in the corner of the room after meandering her way past attendees. Just as she sat herself down, she was greeted by smiling faces, allowing them to gush over and pet her puppy. This eventually resulted in them wanting to feed him their scraps of food, much to her delight.

(Y/N) helped herself to the buffet as she watched the door carefully, wanting to keep an eye on Five’s whereabouts. What she didn’t expect after eating the majority of her plate was to be pulled onto the dance floor. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she genuinely had a blast learning to polka dance, as embarrassing as it was to her. She caught on rather quickly and allowed herself three dances before she politely excused herself, collected her dog, and crept out of the room. Just as she entered the hall again, she saw the blonde attendant from earlier storming away from a broken vending machine and into a room for a meeting labeled ‘Midwest Soybean Society’.

That doesn’t even sound like a real thing, she thought. That must be where the board is meeting.

Deciding to wait out Five’s ‘work’, she strolled over to the vending machine, wincing at the broken glass that once contained the delicious snacks inside. Squinting her eyes, she noticed a certain candy bar, the Fudge Nutter, was leaning just out of its slot. It was just hanging by a thread. That’s when (Y/N) realized, Five hadn’t eaten in a while either. This must’ve been his doing. Using her foot, she kicked the glass out of the way and stuck her hand in, plucking the candy out of its place and pocketing it. Just when she did so, she heard Mr Pennycrumb’s barks aimed in front of them. (Y/N) blinked at the sight before her.

A man- could she even call him that? - with a fish tank holding a goldfish for a head came running in her direction in a panicked hurry, huffing and puffing through what looked to be an intercom of some sort. Tightening her hold on the leash, she swirled her way in front of the fish-man any time he’d change his direction. “Out of my way!” He hissed, but (Y/N) continued to block his path until Five blinked right in front of her. From where she stood behind him, she saw that he was drenched in blood and could only imagine what he looked like from the front. The boy clutched a paddle in his hands, his movements fidgeting. The fish-man gasped in shock at the boy. “Surely, we can come to some form of agreement that benefits both parties,” His British accent quivered. “Quid pro quo? What do you say?”

“Why not?” Five shrugged. “Here’s your quid.” The boy swung the paddle into the man’s side, eliciting a shriek from him. “Here’s your pro.” Then to his leg, sending him to his knees. “And here’s your quo.”

“No! No! Please, don’t!” He whimpered as Five aimed the paddle to his glass tank containing the goldfish. “No!” He cried as the boy smashed the paddle through the tank, glass shattering and water pouring all around. The body fell to the ground with a thud as well as the goldfish. Five loomed over the fish just as Mr Pennycrumb happily barked and skittered to the boy. Blinking, he turned to the dog in confusion.

“Mr Pennycrumb?” He whispered. From his peripheral, he spotted (Y/N) joining his side. “(Y/N), what are you doing here?! How did you even-”

“I’m surprised I made it this far,” She hummed and crouched down, a bag of water in her hand she had fetched the moment Five had blinked into the hallway. “No, baby, you just ate. You fatty.” She chuckled and gently pushed her very hyper golden retriever away, preventing him from gobbling down the fish.

Five watched as she delicately picked AJ up with her index finger and thumb, plopping him into the bag of water before holding it closed. “What’s the poor bastard’s name?” She asked and stood to her feet. Five let out a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling.

“AJ Carmichael…”

“Well, then… It’s nice to meet you, AJ.” She whispered to the bag. The teens quickly looked up when two giggling women exited the polka association room. They stopped in their tracks, observed the scene, and headed straight back inside without a word spoken. (Y/N) sighed and handed the bag over to her love before picking up her pup’s leash. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She perked up and fished the candy out of her pocket, tucking it into Five’s instead.

“For your hard work.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Not a word was spoken between the two after Five took them back to 1963 via the briefcase. “Why couldn’t we just use this to get back home?”

“Because of that,” He pointed to the case that sat on the gravel before them. It shook and sputtered and crackled, an electric blue light emanating and swallowing it whole until it was gone. “She’d never hand me a ticket out of here until she got what she wanted.”

“Yeah, I guess I should’ve thought of that…” (Y/N) whispered and turned away.

They stood in the middle of an alleyway, awaiting The Handler’s arrival as (Y/N) took her handkerchief out of her breast pocket and began ridding Five’s face of the blood splatter the best she could. His eyes wouldn’t meet hers no matter how hard she tried to capture them. She could practically see the gears turning in his head, with the way his brows scrunched and his bloodied fingers rubbed against each other. Once she finished what she could of his face, she gently took his hands in hers and cleaned those as well. Their eyes finally met, both pairs filled with concern for the other, just before the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard.

The Handler, in all her glory, walked towards the two, briefcase in hand. Five wouldn’t even face her, even went as far as to keep his back towards her even after she stopped to stand in front of (Y/N). “We meet again, dear.”

“I had a feeling…”

“Do you bring the mutt everywhere you go?”

(Y/N) shrugged at her pet, who was busy scratching himself behind his ear. The Handler hummed and turned to Five. “Well?”

Without a word, the boy stretched his arm that held the bag behind him. The Handler gasped and set the briefcase down, moving her veil out of the way and taking the bag into her hands. She cackled, cooed and sighed at poor AJ before settling her sights on Five, who was now turned to face her. “You know, you’re really starting to fill out those tight little shorts of yours. Isn’t he, (Y/N)?”

Said girl only watched her love, who looked anywhere but at her. She realized he was ashamed, he was regretful. The Handler frowned at him, hand on her hip. “What’s wrong with him? He’s never this quiet after a job like this. I thought you’d be buzzing after this morning’s slaughter, Five.”

“All this killing,” Five sighed. “I’m done with it.”

The Handler raised her brows and moved forward, going to caress his cheek as she usually did, but (Y/N) stepped to his side, hand firmly on his arm. Chuckling, she turned back to Five. “Am I supposed to take that seriously?”

“What I did today, I did for my family. I did it to save the world.”

“Please. Spare me your little assassin with the heart of gold routine, will you?” She tapped his nose before picking up the briefcase and stretching it towards them. “Here. Per our agreement, this will get you, your siblings, and dear (Y/N) back to 2019.”

To spare him the humiliation of taking the briefcase, (Y/N) did it herself, glaring at the woman.

“You have ninety minutes.”

(Y/N)’s stomach dropped as Five snapped his head up. The Handler turned to walk away as he quickly followed her. “You said nothing about a time limit!”

Glancing at her watch, she smiled. “Actually, you have eighty-nine minutes and thirty seconds. Better hurry.”

“You fucking-”

“This is impossible, okay?!” Five interrupted (Y/N)’s insult in a panic. “My siblings are scattered across the city!”

“Nothing’s impossible. You proved that this morning when you killed the board.”

“I need more time.” Five rushed, glancing at his love for a moment, the girl clutching the briefcase in one hand, Pennycrumb’s leash in the other.

“Any more time, and people will start asking questions,” The Handler’s neutral tone contradicted Five’s rushed, panicked voice. “The sooner you get home and out of this time period, the better off we’ll both be, so ticktock, ticktock.”

Growling, Five charged up to (Y/N), the girl watching as the she-devil happily waved at them before Five blinked them out of the alleyway. The blood-scrawled message on Elliott’s floor was hard not to notice when they appeared in his home. (Y/N) widened her eyes at the message written in Swedish:

ÖGA FÖR ÖGA

Five snatched the briefcase from her hold and sighed before he hurried up the steps. (Y/N) followed close behind, the voices of Diego and Luther becoming more apparent the closer they got. Reaching the top of the stairs, they noticed a chair with a sheet-covered figure laying in it. (Y/N) dropped the leash and approached the chair, slowly uncovering the figure and gasping at the sight of a bloodied Elliott. His face was frozen in agony, the light within his dark eyes vanished. She and Five let out a simultaneous ‘damn’ before she covered him back up. “The three psychopaths…”

She looked up as Five wandered the lounge room, searching for a safe place to store the briefcase. As he did so, (Y/N) entered the kitchen, watching her brothers share a single brain cell.

“My name? Is, uh, Luther Hargreeves, and-”

Diego snatched the phone out of Luther’s hand and put it up to his own ear. “You killed one of ours, Olga,” The misinterpretation had (Y/N) rolling her eyes to the back of her head. “Now we’re coming after you. You will be dead by nightfall.”

“Hey!” Five called as he entered the kitchen, beginning to take off his blaser. “It’s Öga För Öga, idiots. Swedish for ‘an eye for an eye’.”

(Y/N) moved behind him and assisted in removing his blaser, glancing up at her brothers. “The Swedes killed Elliott. Not poor Olga.” As she pulled off Five’s vest for him, Diego slowly turned back towards the wall.

“Wrong number. Have a lovely day.” He smiled before hanging up the phone. (Y/N) scoffed and held the boy’s clothes out of his reach when he tried to take them.

“Shower.” She demanded, Five clenching his fists.

“(Y/N), we don’t have time-”

“We’ll have plenty of time. You shower while I wash the blood out.” She explained and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Five gently swatted her hands away.

“I can undress myself!”

“Then hurry and give me your disgusting clothes!”

“Fine!”

Five scoffed and moved around his brothers, ignoring whatever they had been calling out to him. (Y/N) shook her head and set her love’s clothes into Elliott’s kitchen sink. Diego and Luther leaned against the counter on either side of her as she began washing the blood from the vest.

“You gonna explain what the hell happened?” Diego whispered.

“Why’s he covered in blood?” Luther leaned closer.

“I tried to clean it, I really did.” (Y/N) shrugged.

The brothers gave each other a look before moving their attention back to their sister. Luther cleared his throat. “How’d he, uh… get the blood on him?”

She didn’t give him an explanation, though, and picked up the pile of clothes Five had just dumped outside of the bathroom door before returning to the sink. When the two saw she wasn’t going to speak on Five’s behalf, they both sighed and left her to her work.

Despite his irritation, the boy couldn’t help the swelling of his heart when he cracked the bathroom door open to find his slightly damp, but clean clothes neatly folded on the floor. Grabbing the clothes, he quickly tugged the uniform back on, save for the tie and blaser. Swinging the door open, he was met with a smirking (Y/N). He rolled his eyes as she approached him, taking his tie and putting it on for him. “Doesn’t that make you feel a bit better?”

“No,” He mumbled, but caught the amusement in her eyes. “Maybe a little… but it doesn’t matter because we’re losing time.”

“Well, sorry for not wanting you to smell like you just killed twelve people.” She whispered and pecked his lips, exiting the bathroom after his tie was fastened. Glancing in the mirror, Five adjusted his clothes as Luther did the same just outside the bathroom.

“So, I found a way home.”

“What? How?”

“All the details are irrelevant, but… I made a deal to get back to our timeline.”

(Y/N) watched from the lounge room as the boys spoke, gently petting her dog. Diego joined in the conversation as he pulled a jacket on. “What about doomsday?”

“Won’t happen.”

“And the 2019 apocalypse?”

“Everything will be back to normal,” Five sighed and exited the bathroom, blaser in hand. “Now no more questions. We gotta go. We have to find the others, right? Luther, you get Allison. Diego, Klaus. I’ll get Vanya. Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in seventy-seven minutes.” He pulled on the blaser and picked up four watches, handing one to each person in the room. “I’ve synchronized these watches.”

(Y/N) stood to her feet once the watch was given to her. “Five, what should I do?” She raised her brows. Five shook his head and busied himself with fastening the watch on her wrist.

“Starlight, I want you to gather your things, say your goodbyes to Mr Pennycrumb, and meet back in the alleyway as soon as possible-”

“Wait, what? We’re leaving Penny?” She widened her eyes. Five exhaled through his nose and wordlessly nodded. “Five, why? N-Nothing will happen, he’s just a dog.”

His eyes flicked up to her when her voice broke, his hands coming up to hold her jaw. “He may be just a dog, Starlight, but he isn’t insignificant. Every little yawn he takes, every bark he makes… it all matters, okay? We can’t risk it. I know Mr Pennycrumb was a comfort for you and I’m so sorry… but we can’t take him.”

(Y/N) shakily inhaled, desperately trying to blink back the tears in her eyes, but Five saw them long before she even noticed. Glancing down, he saw the puppy chewing at the toe of his shoe. With the utmost care, Five picked the puppy up and placed him into her arms before leaning down to look into his eyes. “Thanks, buddy… for taking care of her,” He reached forward, Pennycrumb instantly nuzzling his nose into his hand. “You did what I couldn’t. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Goodbye, Mr Pennycrumb.”

“I’m glad you two met.” (Y/N) whispered. Five smiled and sweetly kissed her before stepping back. Clearing her throat, she held her puppy close and walked down the stairs. She only allowed herself to cry when she stepped outside, the door shutting behind her.

—————————————

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#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua x reader #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

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ijenoyou · 3 years

Text

New dad.

jaehyun!dad x reader.

summary; kyu, your son, isn’t too fond of the idea of jaehyun being his new dad.

MASTERLIST.

requested. send one if you want to!

warnings; angst, fluff, sad jaehyun :( mentions of johnny, mentions of death and trauma so if you don’t feel comfortable reading this i recommend you not to reas this •ܫ•

notes; i’m a sucker for jaehyun as a dad lmao so i rlly enjoyed writing this :D also remember english isn’t my first language sooooo ignore if there’s any mistakes.

It was no secret that Kyu had a hard time adjusting to Jaehyun being his new dad. But still, it’s been almost six months since you officially became Jaehyun’s wife and your son would always neglect the idea of having a new parent which made Jaehyun feel upset.

He didn’t tell you anything about it but you could see it in his eyes everytime Kyu would reject Jaehyun’s effort.

“Please Kyu-ah.” He begged chasing the little kid all over the house. “Y/N is waiting for us and I still have to bathe you.” Kyu ignored his dad’s words and continued to hide from him.

Jaehyun lost sight of him and huffed. His phone began to vibrate and he took it out of his back pocket from the pants he was wearing, Jaehyun saw your name on the screen and he immediately broke in cold sweat.

“Hey baby, I wanted to call to know if you’re already on your way here.”

Jaehyun’s eyes started to prick with hot tears and cleared his throat.

“About that... Kyu hasn’t showered yet.” He said while trying to search for him at his room.

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Is everything okay?” You asked with your voice filled with concern after noticing the way he sounded upset.

After hearing you, he started to let himself cry. Jaehyun let out some hiccups making your own eyes start to fill up with tears. You didn’t like hearing him like that. He rested his back against your home walls and slided down, then he rested his forehead against his knees.

“I’ve been trying so hard for Kyu to like me.” He said. “I know I could never reach the level Johnny had with him but—“

“I canceled the dinner.” You interrupted him. “I’ll see you at home baby, hold on tight.” He nodded even when you couldn’t see him, you ended the call and he let a shaky breath out.

He stood there for a few minutes in complete silence until que heard glass breaking followed by a cry that came from downstairs. He got up to his feet as fast as he could and ran towards the kitchen, when he arrived he saw Kyu on the floor holding his left foot with tears running down his chubby cheeks. Jaehyun walked towards him and saw that a wine glass fell and made a tiny cut in Kyu’s skin. He tried to get near the six year old but when he decided to place his gaze on Jaehyun’s face he tried to move away.

“Kyu stop, I have to clean you.” He tried to hold his little arms but Kyu slapped his hand.

“No!” The kid cried. “I want appa! My real dad.” After he heard what Kyu said he couldn’t help but to start crying again.

Jaehyun tried to ignore what the little boy said and tried to reach for him again.

“Kyu!” You shouted when you saw what was happening. “Are you okay?” You asked while kneeling down to see his cut.

Jaehyun turned around to face you. “I-I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of him.” He spoke and you bit your lips trying not to break down in front of your son. “I tried helping him but he won’t—“

“Because I don’t want you to!” Kyu suddenly screamed. “I want my dad back.” He cried into your arms.

“Don’t say that! Jaehyun is your dad.” You scolded him with a firm voice and took him between your arms while standing up with Jaehyun following your actions.

You went to the bathroom and placed your son on the sink, you examined his injurie and saw that it wasn’t bad, just a tiny scrape. You cleaned it and added a cute bandaid that has spiderman designs all over it. You turn your head to the door and saw your husband with a sour expression on his handsome face, you sighed making him put his attention on you.

“Wait outside honey, I’ll talk with Kyu.” You said with a gentle smile.

“Okay.” He answered and before leavening he placed his eyes on Kyu who was looking at the floor waiting for your harsh words. “Don’t be too hard on him.” He tried to smile but failed.

It amaze you. The way he still wants you to be soft with Kyu after all the horrible things he said to him. When you were sure Jaehyun left and couldn’t hear you, you took your son by the shoulders and made him look directly at you.

“Kyu-ah.” You called his name out. “I told you to be nice to Jaehyun, he’s your dad and you should respect him because he loves you.” You explained while patting his head and he sniffed trying to control his tears.

“I miss him.”

You stopped breathing for a moment. It’s also hard for you, Johnny was your first love, your first kiss, your first everything and losing him was the worst feeling you have ever felt. Not even the delivery pain could be compared to what you felt when you got the news of his death.

“I miss him too but you have to accept he’s no longer with us baby.” You hugged his tiny body and he nodded. “I know it’s hard for you because you lost your best friend, I know you don’t see Jaehyun as your dad but it wouldn’t hurt to give him some respect.” You said softly trying to make him understand.

“I guess it wouldn’t.” You smiled at that.

“Now, you’re going to apologize to Jaehyun for all the stress you’ve been giving him.” You poked his sides and he laughed. “He loves you so much and I do too Kyu-ah.”

After talking with him, you placed him back on his feet and began searching for your husband. You found him at your shared room, sitting at the bed while looking at something in his hands that you couldn’t see since his back was turned. You knocked on the door frame and he looked over his shoulder.

“Kyu wants to speak with you.” You said and he nodded, you pushed his tiny body towards Jaehyun and Kyu went up the bed and sat next to him. “I’ll go make dinner, come downstairs when you finish.” You gave a smile to the both of them and closed the door behind you.

Kyu noticed that Jaehyun had something on his hands, it looked like a pouch to him.

“What is that?” He asked grabbing Jaehyun’s hand and took the ‘pouch’

“Uh? That’s my wallet.” He explained and showed him the inside of it.

Kyu saw some cards and some wons but what grabbed his attention was a picture of him. He took it out of the sleeve that had the picture in and analyzed it.

“It’s me.” He said with a tiny smile and Jaehyun nodded.

“I have your mom too.” He then took out a polaroid of you that he took way back high school years.

Kyu’s eyes started to shine when he saw you, he took the polaroid in between his fingers. Jaehyun could see the love Kyu has for you and that made him feel warm inside. After looking at the pictures the both of them went silent.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry Kyussi.” Jaehyun spoke softly and patted his back. “I was once like you.”

“Really?” Kyu asked with a surprised voice.

“Yup, my mom also remarried and I didn’t like the idea, so I spent most of my teen life being rude towards my stepdad.”

“Oh.”

“But.” Jaehyun placed his arm on Kyu’s shoulders to bring him closer. “Y/N was the one who helped me rethink the situation and I realized that it wasn’t fair to my mom.”

Kyu placed his tiny arms around Jaehyun’s neck making his eyes go big in surprise, he didn’t expect that from the tiny kid.

“I know nothing can change the love you have for your dad but I want you to know that I love you so much and in the future, if you want of course, maybe you could see me as your dad too.”

——————————————————————————

You were quite worried about the conversation your two boys were having upstairs. But that feeling vanished when you heard them running downstairs while laughing.

They took a sit at the table next to each other, you placed their food plates in front of them and smiled.

“I take this as a good sign.”

“Yeah.” Your husband smiled, showing his cute dimples.

“Mom! Did you know that he played for a basketball team when he was younger?” Your son asked while moving his feet in the air since he wasn’t tall enough for him to touch the ground when sitting.

“Of course baby!” You replied with happiness. “And let me tell you, he was the best one on the team.”

#nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun

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sukiglycerin · 3 years

Text

dolce (sweetly, softly, gently)

* pairing: accompanist/violinist!katsuki bakugou x violinist!reader (gender neutral!) ft kamijirou

* genre: fluff, kinda angst, enemies to lovers, classical musician au hehe

* words: 9.5k (holy crap, this was a rollercoaster to write)

* warnings: swearing bc not only does bakugou exist, he is a prominent character, brief viola/second violinist jokes (reader’s words not mine), poor rosins being dropped :(

* a/n: SO this is very late for @prettysetterbaby‘s v-day collab!! pls check out all the other talented writers involved >< jj is an ANGEL for putting up with me being late T_T there’s some violin terminology in here but it’s fine if you don’t understand it! more notes at the end aha

* playlist (spotify in source link): violin sonata no.9, op.47 in a major “kreutzer” (beethoven) ; liebesfreud (kriesler) ; violin partita no.3 in e major (bach) ; duo concertante for 2 violins no.3 in d-sharp major, op.57 (beriot) ; clair de lune (debussy) ; duo for 2 violins in d-major, op.67, no.2 (spohr) ; 24 caprices op.1, no.24 in a minor (paganini)

* synopsis: being a soloist is not made easy by your new accompanist, bakugou. you step on each other’s toes when playing - but that’s alright, he’s just a pianist. you’re separated in your two worlds of musical instruments, until one day, you’re not. bakugou traverses over realms like a simple string crossing, and there’s a lot more he’s brought with him.

a double stop in violin is a technique in which two notes are played simultaneously. played correctly, one violin playing two notes should sound like two violins playing separate notes. if your life was a violin, you only needed double stops to play it. you'd perfected the art of being alone, playing the parts of two in your sad solo sonata. you were so, so sure you could compose and play for the whole orchestra - a symphony that would surely please the audience.

you were wrong. after all, a double stop has its limits as well, impossible to play with an interval of larger than a tenth. you were content with your double stops and playing by yourself. this was how you won countless competitions - what good would changing anything be?

you were born a soloist, or that's what your parents would say. you never followed the crowd, sticking to your own mind and doing what was true to you. you never worked well in an orchestra setting (and who knew what would become of you if you ever landed in second violin!). thus, you became a soloist, determined to keep the spotlight on you. it was you and your perfection that kept the eyes of the audience transfixed; you were desperate to keep their focus enraptured by every slight movement of your bow, every shift in finger position on the fingerboard. you wanted them to follow every dynamic and tempo change like their life depended on it, feel their emotion spark the moment your bow pressed a string. you were the only one on stage, an entertainer and an artist to the audience. you brought joy and sorrow through key changes and wonder through glissandos and held suspense with every tremolo. the audience was yours for an entire piece, for a story, for a lifetime.

oh, and there was the accompanist. what was his name again? batsugou? bakugou. the last part was a joke, of course. you'd never forget the man who ruined your first recital overseas.

katsuki bakugou was quickly made your accompanist after the previous one quit last minute and schedule clashes between any other potential candidates rendered them unable to travel with you. no one in their right mind would've come along on a plane to play a piano accompaniment for you. indeed, bakugou was not in his right mind. his name was prominent locally, an orchestral prodigy with the gift of perfect pitch since the tender age of thirteen. he never ventured internationally, though given the chance multiple times to do so. you could never understand why he never took any of the opportunities. you'd jump at any chance of expanding your musical horizons and performing for a larger audience, so it frustrated you to see someone with such potential to throw away possibly beneficial opportunities. not that you really paid much attention to him, anyway. bakugou was a pianist, and you were a violinist. you only cared about competition, not those with blessings you could only dream of achieving.

the months leading to your recital, bakugou had gone quiet. well, you didn't know him personally, so it was news of him that had gone practically radio silent. he was no longer featured in news articles or even pinned on bulletin boards for upcoming recitals. there were no updates from him on social media, too. not that you really paid attention, anyway. he was a prodigy, gifted naturally with talent, and you were a violinist.

an ambitious violinist, at that. you had dreams to perform anywhere out of the stifling air of japan. even to fly a short distance to south korea would be amazing, because it meant you'd be outside of japan. you worked towards this goal tirelessly. you dreamed of stepping on a plane, violin case in your right hand and your dreams in another, to fly to another country and perform. you wished to see the talent beyond your own bubble and feel the music resonate in an auditorium in a different way than it did in japan.

one day, that dream was realized. your violin case in one hand and dreams in another, you boarded the plane flying out of japan full of hope and the faith that good days were coming. while yes, you didn't expect to step out of that plane with anyone but your old accompanist, momo, bakugou's presence comforted you in the foreign atmosphere. for the first ten minutes, he said not a word to you but made it a point to speak to everyone else he could in what seemed like very convincingly fluent english.

to which you finally mustered up the courage to say, in japanese, "i thought you didn't travel internationally."

his japanese voice was a comforting sound. "i don't. this is my first time out of japan."

you stared at him like he just said he ate babies for breakfast (which seemed just as astronomically insane as him never stepping foot out of japan).

"but-" you stuttered. "your english is so good?"

"only because you can't understand it."

to be fair, he had a point. you could only say the basics, like, "hi," "how are you?", "i'm fine, and you?," and the ever-so useful, "do you speak japanese? my english is not good." he appeared to never use any of these phrases, so he was a god in english compared to you.

it was a miracle you navigated out of the airport with your luggage in hand and a general idea of how to get to the hotel you'd booked. you're not going to talk about the events in the hotel, though. sharing a bed with bakugou was a whole different story that consisted of him complaining about your phone usage at eleven pm and you complaining about his lack of sufficient english skills to be able to get the right hotel room (which he'd retort by saying "at least i speak english!").

the path to your first international competition was rocky, so understandably by the day of the performance, your metaphorical feet were sore and you only had water on your metaphorical mind. that is to say, you hadn't practiced with bakugou once until the day before the performance. said rehearsal was cut short due to misunderstandings as a result of bakugou's apparent not-so-fluency in english. you felt bad for him at this point.

and then you were up on stage, violin in one hand, bow in the other, and arms full of your childhood aspirations. also, definitely not prepared enough. you glanced once at bakugou before beginning and he looked confident enough. the lesson you learned that day was that looks can be deceiving.

something you could remember quite clearly was the way the spotlight shined on the varnish of your instrument as you held it, propped between your chin and shoulder. you focused on this shine before taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and praying muscle memory would take over and you'd play the piece faithfully to the score.

you liked to think your playing was accurate. you, the soloist, were the main focus of the piece. the accompaniment made the piece richer and fuller, complementing the violin beautifully while keeping attention on said violin. the thing was, bakugou, like you, played like a soloist.

the performance was like a fight, and sadly not the graceful kind you'd see in a ballet. it was gory and a nuance to the ears, melodic tinkling of the piano becoming tears of a soldier dying in combat. at parts, you clashed by overshadowing the other by playing too loudly. sometimes it was you, and sometimes it was bakugou. it was a merciless game of tag; bakugou would be running to keep up with your playing; once achieving so, you were forced to start chasing after him. you can't exactly remember if he played well, though. for certain, he was not in sync with you, but you were mainly too preoccupied with your own playing to pay attention to his. listening to the recording of the performance, you were unable to evaluate his quality of playing properly, and thus, he remained your accompanist even when you returned to japan.

(actually, the biggest reason he stayed your accompanist was because of your classical musician friends' nagging. they were all in complete awe that the famous soloist, katsuki bakugou, had offered to be your accompanist, and begged for an autograph. of course, you declined.)

you figured that like you, bakugou was a soloist. he wasn't fit to assist your playing, far more suited to his own solos to entrance the audience with only his playing. being a soloist, he played like one too - that's simply how things worked. this understanding of him, though, still couldn't stop you from harbouring a small grudge against him for ruining your international debut.

and then there was the man himself, all standoffish and rough in words and persona. obscenities had no hesitation coming (thrust!) from his mouth. he yelled brashly and frequently and it astonished you that he was a classical musician, as most of your friends of the classical music profession were typically on the quiet, softer spoken side. those that were extroverts were optimistically so, in far contrast to bakugou, who you'd expect from looks alone to be playing in some heavy metal band. it was scary to hear his renditions of debussy's dreamy, serendipitous pieces when over your earbuds, he was yelling at some guy named "shitty hair" on his phone. you were curious how he looked recording the piece.

you didn't typically communicate, though. conversation, which only ever existed during rehearsal, was a question from you and a clipped grunt in response. there was nothing else to your relation; he played his part, and you played yours. sometimes you did this simultaneously, but it was as if you were playing two completely different things. performance, according to your friends, was now stilted. this was partially the reason you stopped listening to recorded performances. it wasn’t even like you’d ever derived pleasure from listening to them - you only nitpicked your mistakes.

your old accompanist, momo, on the other hand, was an absolute angel. she was kind, polite, and skilled on the piano, fingers dancing over the keys like a graceful ballet. you fit well with her; each performance was like a delightful conversation between friends, pleasant on the ears and twinkling with joy and laughter. with her, every performance felt like something resembling victory, even if it wasn’t a competition. to you, winning the audience’s gaze was enough.

then again, you didn't feel that you could judge quite yet. momo was your accompanist for years, and you could barely remember how the two of you sounded when you first started out. bakugou had been your accompanist for mere months (though it did feel much, much longer considering how frustrating he could be). you couldn't understand why he became your accompanist at all.

opposites. it was an accurate representation of your relationship with bakugou. he was a pianist, you weren't. he was a prodigy, you weren't. he was blessed with talent, you weren't. there was nothing to talk to him about, obviously, because of these dividing factors.

the longer you knew him, the more your disdain for the man grew. at rehearsals, it always felt like your performances were about him, him, and him. he was the star piano player, of course. he hadn't volunteered to be your accompanist as a sense of "stepping down"; no, no, rather, he was flaunting his piano playing with a violin playing in the background. he played perfectly. for a soloist.

as time passed, these frustrations with him became more and more apparent. you became acutely aware of how his performance would outshine your own, and it sickened you. slowly, the quality of your own performances took a nosedive. if the piece was originally pianissimo, you'd take it up to piano (then, if bakugou increased his volume, forte). if the tempo was andante and he was playing moderato, you'd play allegro. it was a competition at this point - instigated by him, of course. you were just upping the ante, even if it meant sacrificing your own artistry.

a lot of people warned you of what would happen, but you ignored them. the fierce competition you felt between you and bakugou caused your own downfall as a musician. slowly, gigs stopped trickling in, like a faucet being shut off. you blamed this on bakugou. ("i was international before him. now, i can barely get a gig in musutafu! why does everyone think he's so great?" you had fumed over the phone to jirou, your old roommate from university. she asked you if you had even listened to him play.)

you were scrambling for places to perform at this point. (“fire him,” the very unhelpful hagakure told you. you didn’t know what you were thinking when you asked her, a violist in a local orchestra. it wasn’t like she ever got a solo.) you’d seriously considered doing so, but came up empty when looking for another accompanist. online forums and friends’ connections could only do so much. they were all either unavailable during rehearsal schedules or inadequate in terms of adapting to the music given.

“you need to try working together with him,” jirou advised you one day over the phone.

“yeah, say that to yourself and kaminari,” you muttered bitterly under your breath. kaminari was a guitarist in jirou’s band who hadn’t quite gotten along with jirou well. jirou made fun of the lightning bolt streak in his hair. when you first met them, all they did was bicker day and night; now, according to the other guitarist, tokoyami, they still did this, though on a smaller scale.

she heard you. “well,” jirou said, slightly ticked off, “we get along better now. because of communication. look- i’m not saying you need to be best friends with bakugou or anything, but you need to talk to him about what’s working and what’s not. respect him as another musician, y’know?”

“i’ll… try,” you said begrudgingly.

you heard a muffled yell from the other side of the call. “kaminari, you idiot!” jirou called, voice a bit far. “what did i tell you about plugging in the amp? i said not to-” she cut herself off. “sorry, y/n, i need to go now. kaminari’s back to his normal antics.” she sighed, but it sounded more endeared than irritated. the call ended.

respect bakugou as another musician. you could do that. bakugou was only a pianist. you were a violinist. he was your accompanist. he was to support your playing. you’d forever be separated from him, doing your own thing. he, certainly, couldn’t understand the woes of being a violinist. not the intonation nor the techniques; you were sure that if you handed him a violin on the spot, he wouldn’t be able to even hold the bow properly. the notion of bakugou, piano prodigy, struggling to make a decent sound on the violin with a bow clenched in an ungainly grip deeply amused you.

these thoughts kept your relationship with bakugou afloat and restrained you from strangling him every time he stepped a toe out of line during rehearsals. ploddingly, with as minimal communication as you could manage, you tried to play with bakugou together, as a duet rather than as two soloists playing simultaneously. you swallowed your pride to play accurately to the music, patiently explaining any qualms you had with bakugou’s playing.

eventually, you found yourself building up your performances to the quality they had once been with momo. it was still far from the pristine playing that led you to an international invite - but it was an improvement, and that was all that mattered to you. innately, you were slightly ashamed of the thoughts that allowed you to keep working with bakugou. they were thoughts that told of your superiority to him, because he was playing piano for you. that’s all he was; an accompaniment to you. you told yourself that having these thoughts on the inside was better than fighting with bakugou.

somehow, along the strings of notes slurred together and shifts of fingers from one spot on a string to the next, you found yourself experiencing a strange joy gliding your bow against the strings of your violin. the rich sound of your instrument, withering and blooming with every stroke of vibrato you performed, fulfilled you unlike how it ever had before. up until now, you’d been playing for the audience, rather than yourself. the melody reverberating in the hollow body of your violin was never for your own ears to enjoy, it was for the audience’s satisfaction and listening pleasure. for it was their own enjoyment that won you competition after competition, playing with a blank face. on some occasions, you’d open your eyes during the applause to see some audience members crying, which ultimately confused you. how you were able to draw emotions from them with your playing when the music was unable to render you anything but indifferent?

you knew it in yourself, though, that the happiness you felt was hollow. delightful notes supposed to boast joy and love echoed in the rehearsal room, falling flat on your ears.

you were a soloist, though. you couldn’t let thoughts like these get to you. you could only play, for both your pride and your audience. these woes were for you to shoulder, on top of the violin you held between your chin and collarbone.

“you’re here early,” bakugou commented one day, opening the door to your shared rehearsal room. tucked under one arm was his folder of sheet music. he caught you in the middle of practicing one of the pieces for a gig - liebesfreud, by fritz kreisler.

it was true. the morning sun basked the window sill and laminate flooring, warming the particular spots it shone through. you’d arrived an hour or so early. pleased by the bright nature of the morning, you pulled up the blinds. typically, you ran late, arriving ten minutes after bakugou’s text of “you’re late again, idiot” with a coffee and a bagel in your hands. those mornings, you were really grateful for having a case with backpack straps. if you hadn’t the time to eat your bagel on the way to rehearsal, it was cold and hard by the time you had a lunch break.

thankfully, today was not one of those days. whether it was the sun or the title of the piece (“love’s joy,” how wonderful), you’d woken up and decided that today, you’d have a warm and soft bagel for breakfast. you had a coupon for a free coffee and surprisingly, the commute to rehearsals was more punctual than usual. thus, you arrived an hour early, a smile on your face as you opened the door. you opened your case with extra care and rosined your bow with extra zest, humming a tune you heard playing on the radio. bakugou would’ve had a heart attack had he saw you then.

you ignored his entrance, only peeping one eye open at the man and nodding your head toward the piano as you continued on with the piece. you allowed yourself to become immersed in the music, following the soft pace bakugou set in his playing. closing your eyes, you saw the audience before you and felt your fingers sliding and pressing the strings. time flew while playing the piece; you’d barely noticed that the piece was nearing its end, playing its familiar melody one last time before opening your eyes. a glance at the rosin dusted in between the bridge and fingerboard of your violin satisfied you, like salt on caramel. you surely played just as sweet, smooth and saccharine like the gooey texture of a caramel confection. you relished in the sunlight streaming through into the room, ignoring the shuffling of papers behind you (from bakugou, no doubt). that was how you should play.

“something’s off,” you blearily opened your eyes to the sound of bakugou’s gruff voice. he was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in a not atypical manner.

“what,” you said flatly. “it sounded fine to me. i didn’t mess up or anything.”

“no,” he replied, deep in thought, crimson eyes darkening a shade. “we don’t have proper… emotion in the music.”

“huh?” you felt a comical question mark rising out of your head. “i played it perfectly to score. it conveys the composer’s emotions to a t,” you said, getting annoyed with the pianist. your grip tightened on your violin’s neck.

“well- yeah,” he gritted his teeth. “but what about your emotions?”

“who cares about my emotions?” you said. “all that matters is that my playing is perfect. the audience feels the emotions, not me.” why else had you been plucked into violin lessons when you were five? surely not for your own enjoyment.

“idiot, that’s definitely not how it is.”

“it’s just violin playing!” you snapped. “it’s not complicated with- with emotions! it’s the same as anything else!”

“you’re wrong,” bakugou coldly answered.

“what would you understand?” you seethed. “you’re just a damn pianist. you follow my lead.”

he ignored your remarks. “why do you play a fucking instrument, then? why bother to enter competitions or recitals?”

“to win, like any other normal person!”

he let out a clipped, exasperated breath. “fuckin’ explains it, then.” he didn’t elaborate. dismissing the topic, he said, “whatever. play the piece from the top. actually try to look at me this time, so we can stay together. put more emphasis on the downbeat at the start.”

“it’s not like you even heard me play the beginning,” you retorted, but made sure to accent that note even more during the replay. pianists. they always were on their high horses.

something you looked forward to every year was the valentine’s recital. the organizers, an old couple, had known you since you were a child, and thus developed a soft spot for you. you were a shoo-in for the event, relied on to learn the music on a short deadline. last year, you played preludio, from bach’s partita for violin no. 3. this year, though, the catch was weird.

“the letter says it’s a violin duet?” you said to jirou while video calling her. “i don’t have a violinist on hand, just a pianist. it’s not like bakugou can suddenly master violin.”

jirou looked at you with a surprised expression. “you don’t know?”

you stared back at her. “know what?”

“he plays violin, too.”

“huh?” you must’ve misheard her.

she nodded. “he’s pretty good, too. have you not seen the videos?”

“videos?" your eyes widened as you soon realized the implications of bakugou harbouring an aptitude for violin. "i’ve… i’ve got to go.”

“he’s as good as you, y/n,” jirou said with a knowing smile. you were quick to press the hang up button.

five seconds into teenage bakugou’s rendition of one of paganini’s caprices, you exited youtube.

the next day, you kicked open the door to the practice room.

“you,” you pointed a finger at bakugou, who sat at the piano midway through a piece.

“what is it now, dumbass? you’re late again.”

“shut up,” you grumbled. “that’s beside the point. you- you play violin?!”

he shrugged, not avoiding your piercing gaze. “i’ve dabbled in it, yes.”

you shut the door behind you. “and why did you never tell me?!”

“tch. you never asked, did you?”

“you’re my accompanist, i should know these things!”

“you know i play piano, and that’s enough,” bakugou said stubbornly. “i only play piano with you.”

“not anymore.” setting your violin case down, you shuffled through the pocket that held your sheet music. flipping out a packet of sheet music, you thrust it in bakugou’s direction. “here.”

he grabbed the sheets from you, skimming the title. “duo for two violins in…. fuck,” he muttered. “why didn’t you just say no? who even is this from?”

“valentine’s recital. the pay’s good, bakugou, and we need it.”

“you need it,” he mumbled bitterly, holding the sheets out for you. “i don’t.”

“it’s not like i’m happy about it either. since when were you a violinist?”

“since when was it any of your damn business?”

"you're supposed to be my pianist! not anything else!"

you didn’t understand how he could be so musically inclined. you blinked, and your sight smeared, blurring the sight of your feet with the laminate flooring. this wasn't right, you thought as you felt a telltale heat creeping up you. why were you crying now?

if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your violin playing. it seemed to be the only thing you were good at as a child when academics and athletics failed you. sure, you hated it at first (as most children did when their parents forced them to do something), but as time went on, the applause of the audience and the title of "winner" rewarded you enough. you were no prodigy, so you worked endlessly every day to prove yourself worthy. you never understood how you'd worked so hard only to be in the shadows of others so naturally gifted who surely would never understand how much you practiced to become better.

when it came to bakugou, he was never supposed to be better. he was your pianist, talented in a completely different musical realm than your own, so he could never be superior to you - and now he wasn't. he never was. here you were for the past year or so, looking like a fool in bakugou's eyes. on the days you struggled so hard with fourth finger vibrato, he was probably laughing at your inadequacy at violin. as easily as he played the violin, katsuki bakugou played you like a fool.

everything collided when you stepped out of the room, leaving a particular golden haired boy alone to stare at the sheet music you tossed him. your head throbbed with the groggy sensation of almost-tears and anger coursed through your veins.

you couldn't back out of the recital now. you couldn't.

you couldn't stand to look back into the vermillion eyes of katsuki bakugou now. even more so now, you couldn't.

your solution?

"hey, what's up?" jirou's collected voice filled your ear, your phone pressed to it.

"hey, kyo, i… kind of did a bad thing," you said, feeling jittery as you sought a commute home. you'd already made up your mind that your sorry-ass wouldn't be able to look bakugou back in the face for the rest of the day.

"...again?" she asked, tone concealing a hint of surprise. "don't tell me it was with bakugou. don't you usually practice now?"

"...usually, yes…" you sheepishly shuffled your feet, standing outside on the sidewalk. "i'll be resuming it again, 'course, when i get home…"

"why aren't you with bakugou right now?"

"that's… that's a long story," you laughed nervously.

"i can wait," jirou coolly replied. "kaminari got his foot stuck in his guitar case - don't ask - so i have time."

you considered asking about kaminari, then thought better of it.

"you know about the valentine's day recital they have every year? well, this year…" you recounted the events that led you to now, standing outside on the phone with jirou.

"where are you going to find a violinist?"

a silence found itself opportune as jirou waited for an answer. "i'm, uh, not…?" you said, deflecting the question back to jirou.

"well, you can't play both parts in the duet, can you? actually, don't answer that. i know you'd try. didn't you try that one time in-"

"what's done in uni stays in uni," you hushed her before she could recall that one time you tried to play a sonata with a recording of yourself. "aren't you going to tell me to try to make amends with bakugou?"

"no," she said thoughtfully after a pause. "you've tried before, and it's not working for you. i don't think you should be forced to do something you obviously don't want to do. i just think," she continued, "you need to find someone to do the duet with, if you don't want to work with bakugou. but objectively, he's your best bet."

as jirou always was, she was right. you thanked her for her advice not before hearing a distraught kaminari shouting for jirou in the background, and then she ended the call.

you repeated her words in your head once you got home, sliding your bow back and forth on your small block of worn rosin. the score for the duet was spread next to you on the floor. it wasn't that you didn't want to work with bakugou. or was it? had you been that selfish all along, sabotaging other performances because you didn't like him? if even jirou had noticed it, had bakugou noticed it too?

your sigh let out a thousand burdens piled up in your mind, blowing air out like dust accumulating on your tribulations. you picked up your violin and bow thoughtlessly, testing out the strings and plucking a couple with your left hand.

was it really only you with the contempt for working with bakugou? you'd assumed mutual hatred with him after your international debut, but had it really been so? had you been the only one picking fights during the time you'd worked together? as you backtracked, your fingers slipped into a familiar position. you began a piece you knew positively by heart, an absolute favorite of yours for years. you played mindlessly, serenading yourself with familiar notes and string fingerings as you thought long and hard about bakugou. how much shit had you given bakugou? he hardly complained, too, but why? why hadn't he quit after you'd been so ceaselessly difficult with him?

why were you so angry at bakugou, a gifted prodigy since childhood? the answer found itself as the composition descended into an array of complicated fingerings and string changes, sounding like an incoherent chaos somehow strung together by the music. you pretended you didn't know the answer.

it was much, much easier to leave bakugou as just a pianist. respectable in his own field, and incomparable to you. it was too good to be true, obviously. all your life, you played to win, and couldn't allow anyone else to surpass you. violin was about winning, winning, winning. how were you supposed to cope when all those hours of practice were easily overcome by someone with innate talent?

the piece eased your tension with a fermata, drawing out your vibrato to think. bakugou's perfection infuriated you, you concluded. knowing this, though, didn't help with anything. you almost screeched the last note as the composition came to an end, unsettled by thoughts of bakugou. you really couldn't stand him.

in an attempt to distract yourself from your dilemma, you decided to start practicing the recital composition. you pulled out an old portable music stand, bending the parts into place and stacking it up. carefully, you placed the sheets on the stand and skimmed over the music, bringing your violin up to your collarbone.

your eyes followed one measure ahead of what you were playing as you sight-read the piece. ahead, ahead, was all you could think as your fingers fumbled the notes, eyes moving from the score to the fingerboard. bakugou was far from your mind as you caught up to the music, too preoccupied with the sharps and flats you'd forgotten and the time you had to keep. you were busied by the shifts and the repeat signs in the music over anything else. your priority lay here for the time being, after all. the sight-reading was almost enough to make you forget you only play one half to a duet. there was still still an emptiness that lurked between the rests and the redundant beats that even your stilted practice couldn't mask. you tried not to worry about that, though.

time floated by as you repeated the piece over and over, playing for accuracy first. it wasn't enough, but you pretended it was. the metronome on your phone ticked away like time, endless and impatient, until you couldn't stand it anymore and packed away your violin.

the proceeding day was filled with more of the same practicing, working on tweaking hesitations and polishing up your playing. it was kind of convenient, practicing at home rather than waking up early to practice with bakugou. you missed the bagel the most.

you were definitely not playing your best, and it was clear by the way your bow occasionally screeched and how you fumbled the fingerings when you were particularly negligent. the piece just didn't sound right without the second part. (bakugou was definitely not the second part missing. not at all.)

by the third day you gave up and admitted to yourself that yes, bakugou was the second part missing. you were only a little bit miserable buying your usual bagel and coffee and rushing to rehearsals fifteen minutes late, aware that you'd be unable to eat it before practice. you were substantially less miserable than how you were the day previous, practicing alone.

you weren't surprised to see bakugou already there, sitting on the piano bench and tightening his bow hairs. he acknowledged you with a grunt as you set down your breakfast and beverage.

"showed up, huh?" he said finally, voice rough. he stood up, setting his sheet music on a stand. you stared at him, awed by his nonchalance. he picked up his violin and bow (which, by the way, looked super expensive) and propped his violin up by his chin. it felt so foreign to see him in position to play violin, fingers already expertly in first position and wrist beautifully curved, yet it inexplicably clicked. the scene in front of you looked like he'd done this everyday, as it was always supposed to have been, his back confidently straight. his fingers arched over the fingerboard and his bow appeared mathematically parallel to the bridge, held delicately between his fingers. you'd never carefully watched him play piano (probably due to your distaste to him and lack of knowledge about the percussion instrument), but he made the violin look like an instrument of the gods. he hesitated, though, bow moving a centimeter then back. he frowned at your idle silence and turned back to you. "well? are we doing this duet or not?"

"oh," you reacted intelligently. "yeah. yeah." it kicked in what you were doing by the time you'd started tuning your violin, first bowing your a string. after tuning your violin (with the help of a tuning fork and none from the perfect-pitched bastard bakugou, who appeared to be watching you with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as you struggled to tune your violin properly), you set your sheet music next to bakugou's.

"ready?" you asked, as if you'd been the one waiting for bakugou all this time.

"ask yourself that," he snorted. "i'll do the count."

you nodded.

"one, two, three, f-"

"wait, wait," you said, squinting at your music. "isn't it supposed to be a bit slower than that?"

"it says allegro," bakugou said, tapping his foot. "need an italian lesson? lively, briskly."

"i know what allegro means," you gritted. "seems too fast, when paired with dolce."

"maybe for you," he smirked.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "and that means what, exactly?"

he opened his mouth to reply some smug, smart-ass answer, but you stopped him.

"nevermind," you said. "do the count again, at the same tempo. i can do it."

you were bluffing, of course. since when was allegro this fast? you wondered as the opening notes sped by you in a musical blur. already familiar with the melody, you messed up dynamics the most. of crescendos and diminuendos? it wasn't like bakugou would notice, too preoccupied with his part.

the ending of the piece took your breath away, storming toward you in a whirlwind. adrenaline filled your veins as you raced to the last measure of the music, overcome by the tempo and the music. this time, full of energy and exhilaration, the piece felt complete. your and bakugou's sound surrounded the two of you, overflowing the room with a saccharine melody. it felt right simply standing beside him playing a two part piece, chest heaving from the piece's energy. you could only hear your breathing, a gentle encore to your playing.

"your playing is sloppy," bakugou said bluntly. he leaned over to your sheet music, starting to point at dynamic markings.

you swatted his hand away before he could say a word. "yeah, well, i just got the music three days ago," you interjected.

"you also had two of the three days off, so i'd say you're not doing enough." he glanced back down at your score. he pointed at a measure. "this is a crescendo, moron, why didn't you get much louder?"

"just- pay attention to your own music!" you said. "besides, it's dolce. i can get away with playing softer."

"that wasn't very dolce to me," he argued. "nothing sweet, soft, or gentle about that," he mumbled.

"i can be sweet, soft, and gentle if i want to!" you retorted.

he raised a brow, as if a challenge, scarlet eyes glinting in the light. "tch. i'm sure you can, but your playing damn can't."

“it can, too! listen,” you said, impetuously raising your violin and bow again. you slowly started to play a d major scale, impatiently scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on making the music soft and gentle, tampering with different degrees of vibrato and bow pressure.

“... that’s just piano,” bakugou said, moving to you as you bowed an a. your bow came to an abrupt halt, making an unpleasant squeal, as bakugou positioned himself behind you. you felt his body warmth radiating behind you as a sweet, homely scent wafted around you. he brought his arms around you, hands overlapping where you held your violin and bow.

“you need to be,” he murmured into your ear, gentle tone almost slurring the words together, "fragile when you play dolce." he angled your bow slightly, moving your hand. "bow closer to the fingerboard." the smooth baritone of his voice resonated within you, becoming lost within the violinist's embrace.

"most of all," he said, dropping an octave to an intimate tone, "you need to feel it. you can attempt to play it, but without feeling, it's fuckin’ meaningless."

"feeling?" you repeated blankly. “the audience’s, you mean.”

he stepped away, a gesture that made you breathless, and shook his head. he crossed his arms over his chest, unintentionally accentuating their volume. “your damn feelings. what do you feel when playing the piece?”

there’s a pause for perhaps a second too long, as you mulled over different answers in your head.

“tch.” his eyes don’t leave you, gaze a laser burning into you. “‘s what i thought. why do you play violin?”

you held your tongue from answering my parents. “to win. i play to win,” you stated.

“and that’s the damn problem,” bakugou said, releasing a breath of frustrated air. “you win to play.”

“that means…?” you were starting to get impatient with the man, who seemed to be stalling and dragging out your limited time.

“you win competitions to play more.”

you almost scoffed, but his words were plausible. “what’s the purpose in playing more if not to win?”

he made a scratching noise in his throat, cool demeanor shifting to that of the bakugou you knew. “l-l-” he coughed, “love.”

“love?” you repeated, the word a surprise to swallow.

he nodded, gagging on his reply. you couldn’t see bakugou as the romantic type - the same bakugou who called all of his friends demeaning nicknames and could barely say the word love out loud. he was explosive, maybe, and talented, sure - but acquainted with love? you pursed your lips at the stuttering man trying to advise you.

“whatever,” he dismissed, voice oddly hoarse. “just play it from the top. fix the dynamics.”

weeks passed in a blur, though bakugou’s advice was left unforgotten. it had, for the most part, faded from your mind but lingered like a ghost in an abandoned attic, stirring up dust in complete silence. it was valid criticism on bakugou’s part, but the problem was that it was criticism you couldn’t digest. it was a ghost that you could not rid of, whispering and lurking until your music played over it.

four weeks before the performance, you had the piece almost entirely memorized other than a few flukes here and there. you managed most of your dynamics, playing in sync with bakugou by your side. three weeks and the piece was mostly smooth, foregoing all sheet music and practicing in the middle of the room with bakugou tapping out the tempo on the honeyed floor. any mistakes were recovered from quickly, and you were pleased to say that the amount of bakugou’s slip-ups equated to yours. at two weeks, though, he brought up the pest bugging your mind.

“play with more emotion,” he sighed exasperatedly, letting out a huff as you played for him. “start on f sharp again.”

you’d tried time and time again, but the longer you’d replayed the same few measures (followed by his criticism for the nth time), the only emotion you felt was frustration. your bow would push too hard or your vibrato would lay on thick, immensely irritating bakugou. you didn’t know why he even tried.

the air felt stale and the lights shone obnoxiously bright. the pads of your left hand fingers had hardened by now, indented with a pair of parallel lines from your unforgiving violin strings. you inhaled rosin dust and occasional bow hairs miserably dropped to the floor. your arms were tired, sore, and sick of playing; your ears painfully endured the same tune again and again, the originally fluid and sweet notes becoming high frequency static.

“i can’t do this.” you were tempted to flop onto the ground, hopelessness pouring over you.

“you can,” bakugou insisted stubbornly. “you just need to try harder.”

“harder?” you would’ve snapped (and you were surprised your e string didn’t already by the repetitive motions on it) if you weren’t so exhausted from rehearsing.

he nodded like it was obvious. “try harder.”

you shakily inhaled, trying to smooth your voice over. “i’m sorry i can’t be a prodigy like you.”

he stiffened, tense to the point of trembling. “whatever,” and it was a strained word pulled from his mouth. it was very atypical for him to give up like this, but you didn't care. you avoided his eyes as you restarted the piece, unable to bloom anything from it.

outside of your rehearsal time, you practiced. arguably, your solo rehearsals were more rigorous. you forced yourself to add emotion to the piece, sometimes playing for jirou. she agreed with bakugou (though was a great deal less irritating), stating that your playing was somewhat hollow. (you restrained yourself from knocking on the instrument and saying that yes, indeed, violins were hollow.)

"how… how do you get any emotions from playing?" you asked jirou at one point, watching one of her band's rehearsals. they were on a break, chatting idly and taking sips from their water bottles.

“well…” jirou started, glancing back at her band members. “i think about the feelings i want the audience to feel because of my songs. i think about how the song makes me feel, then i put that into how i play.”

“how do you…” you shifted uncomfortably, “know what to feel?”

she looked at you, taken aback, but replied easily. “you don’t. it just… happens.”

her response was vastly different than what you’d been taught a child. emotions? sure, there was perhaps a time where playing evoked a feeling in you, plucked something melodical from your heartstrings. it was when you were a child, though, so it was irrational and erratic, an outburst in the middle of your otherwise level playing. your violin teacher didn’t approve when you’d follow how the music made you feel. she said it made you stray too far from the original piece and would make you lose competitions. no matter how you pushed back against her, her advice haunted you over and over every time you got anything other than first place.

your performance is the audience, she’d told you. you didn’t understand what she meant at first, but she made sure you did while practicing for your next rehearsals. the audience, she quipped with thin lips under her sharp eyes, is everything. if the audience wasn’t satisfied, your performance was worthless, no matter how well you played technically. you play for them and you win - it was that plain. there was nothing more than you wanted but to win, at the time. you wanted a trophy, a medal, a certificate stating that you were better than most. it was palpable evidence that you were good enough - for your parents, your peers, anyone. like that, you practiced, a servant for approval. you weren’t a prodigy, but you sure as hell would try to play like one. her advice worked for over a decade, soundly racking you up with countless awards that filled your otherwise desolate self-esteem.

you didn’t say anything else to jirou about it, instead thinking about the bits and pieces of human feeling you could extract in between your piece’s accidentals and eighth notes. perhaps there was a possibility, through the phrases of notes and dynamic markings, you’d find a word that said love. a renewed interest sparked itself when jirou’s band continued their rehearsals, finding yourself to be a normal audience member (maybe even crying at the end. maybe).

you returned home to practice, practice, practice, coercing any hidden message in the music to vibrate in your violin and echo around your room. you watched other renditions of the piece to find something you were missing, but imitating them didn’t seem right. this continued for the following weeks, hiding any potential development from bakugou (or trying to, at least). you knew you’d be disappointing him if you failed after trying so hard. it was only safe to play what you knew, secure in the written parts of the composition and keeping it at that.

by the time the performance came around, you were glad bakugou never found out about your secret efforts. if he had, you knew he’d be sorely dispirited by your lack of tangible progress, your sound just as hollow as the soundbox of your violin. you failed, you knew, and as crestfallen as you were on that cold february morning, the show must go on.

the performances were held in an auditorium, warm compared to the snowy wonderland outside. it was typically couples comprising the audience, all romantic and pepped up in the spirit of valentine's day (white day was no different). some arrived early, finding seats in the empty auditorium and chatting amongst themselves (or sometimes making out, which made you want to throw your violin at them and gag). bakugou’s and your performance was last; it quite the heavy honor to play the finale to the recital.

backstage was a vast contrast to the hushed atmosphere settled over the assemblage. hovering over the staff and performers for the day was a sense of panic, hurry, and hecticness. bits of rosin were scattered on the ground where you prepared for your rehearsal, some belonging to your block and others not. your pack of extra strings lay next to you on the sofa you sat on, arm resting on the side of the seat. similar to your violin's strings, spun tightly over pegs to be kept in place, you felt high-strung. the buzz of energetic excitement flitted in your head, knee bumping up and down and jerking your violin in the same motion. it was hard to calm when you tuned your violin to absolute perfection, relying on bakugou's perfect pitch to do so. the fine tuners on the end of your strings probably hadn't had a harder time in the years you'd owned your violin.

"you're shaking the entire sofa, idiot," bakugou deadpanned next to you. “some of us are trying to rosin our bow, unlike you.” he glanced at the floor, where amber shards of rosin lay amidst white dust (also made of rosin).

“to be fair, most of those aren’t mine,” you pointed out. you reached into your violin case, finding the rectangular case of rosin and opening the top. "mine's only chipped in a couple corners, and the rest is just worn on the edges from my bow."

you leaned over to look at bakugou's rosin, two stubs in its case. "and i'm the one dropping my rosin?"

his ears turned a deep red, matching the velvet curtains on stage. "that's different," he muttered, putting the lid on his rosin and putting it away.

"you ready?" you watched him swallow before speaking, not looking at you. you could hear one of the presenters speaking, introducing the first piece to be played (an ever-so romantic rendition of clair de lune), but the voices felt distant and muffled over the sound of your own nervous heart beating.

"yeah," he replied. he turned to look at you, scarlet eyes meeting your own. "what, you're not scared now, are you, dumbass?"

you gulped. "no… just excited," you said. in truth, you felt disappointed in yourself for being unable to find any emotion in your playing - thinking about the piece, you were devoid of anything but the measures and the notes. what was the piece trying to say in the white space between staff lines? after the clef at the beginning of the music, where did the emotions start and everything else end?

quiet notes, twinkling from the piano on stage, met your ears. you took a deep breath. how did they make you feel?

…not very good, because this pianist was certainly a beat or two off tempo. a large hand on your knee startled you out of your trance. its warmth was surprisingly comforting. you followed the arm connecting to the hand to meet bakugou's concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched.

"don't shake your knee like that. also, why are you so damn cold?" he moved his hand away, leaving an imprint of heat on your knee. you hadn't noticed the physical manifestation of your nerves prior to bakugou's words.

you left his question unanswered, staring at your violin in your lap. you traced the patterns in wood, fingers following the shape of the f-hole and thumbing circles on your chin rest. how were you supposed to be able to pull living, breathing life in the form of emotions from an inanimate object? what sorcery were you supposed to manage to satisfy yourself and the audience?

you thought back to bakugou's words. what was it had he said you were supposed to be playing for? love, the irrational and sentimental flaw of life - somehow expressed from the symbols on a sheet of paper and through strings on hollow wood. what sort of miracle was bakugou creating with his music?

what was violin, if not just a task to do everyday? what was it, out of competitions and tests of skill? what was the sound reverberating within its vacant body, recording every shift of fingers on the fingerboard?

you looked past your violin to the rosin on the floor. friction, your violin teacher had explained to you. you put rosin on your bow so it creates friction with the strings, and thus creates sound. it was strange how friction caused the smooth sound of a violin. too much friction, added by pressure on the bow, made a creaky sound on the strings. without rosin, the bow would be too smooth on the string and make no noise at all. the happy medium of not too much and not too little created the familiar rich tone on the strings.

a happy medium, you mused. in between too much friction and none at all. maybe that was how you were supposed to feel, in between trying too hard and not trying at all. that's what feelings were in the end, right? a natural human instinct, spurred by life. could you breathe life into the music?

the stage seemed almost too big for the two of you, spotlights centering you on the wide, wooden platform. the crowd's eyes were on you and your fellow violinist, some watching with drooping eyelids. they felt far, distant under the shadows. even so, the question still besieged you - would you please them?

you teared your eyes away to bakugou, who started the count. everything was silent until he nodded to you, your cue to start the piece. it felt too fast when you began but it was the same allegro you’d been practicing with. muscle memory took control now, your fingers finding their places easily.

your fingers and bow took all your attention. everything else fell away - the lights, the crowd, the stage - until it was just you, your violin, and the music. you could practically see the score in your head, playing the notes you'd come to know so well.

you heard your music echo and resound off the walls, but that's all it seemed to do. it touched everyone in the room, looking for a place to stay, and diminished in an empty space alone. it frustrated you that it wouldn't resonate - where was the love bakugou had so told you of? this auditorium was no different than your room, where sounds bounced off walls and landed nowhere. you weren't reaching anywhere or anyone, lacking emotion and any true substance.

love - what was love if not a hindrance? how could bakugou expect so much out of you? love - had you ever felt it for the violin? dolce told you to play sweetly, softly, and gently, but what was sweet about the violin? what was so sweet about the imprints of strings on your fingers, fragmented rosin at your feet, and bruises on your neck from long hours of practice? what was gentle about the arduous replaying of the same measure, the ringing in your ears after playing to master a simple phrase? what was soft about the forte that rang in your head, the fortissimo that filled a performance and clouded your senses?

dolce filled you like an epiphany, euphoric in your eyes that finally opened and awakened. dolce was in bakugou's eyes, soft velvet like the crimson curtains onstage, downcast at his violin. dolce was in his sound as his bow skittered near the fingerboard, in his fingers sliding back and forth on his a string. dolce was in his grasp of his bow and violin, in the very essence he played the violin with. dolce contradicted everything you knew, reminding you of bakugou's soft hands over yours, guiding your fingers and bow. dolce was the morning light streaming into the practice room as you argued with bakugou over tempos and notes, the light glinting on shattered shards of rosin as you anxiously rosined your bow. dolce was the curve of your violin scroll, the bend of your fingers over your bow's frog. dolce was the white space in between staff lines on your sheet music and through half and whole notes. dolce was everything in between the rough of your violin experience, the laughter and smiling gone forgotten during sleepless practice sessions and violin evaluations.

what was dolce, if not a rebellion? what was it, if not a rebellion from the years of work and pain you'd endured in the name of musicality? what was it, if not laughing in the face of your violin instructors and the strict score you adhered to?

when you opened your eyes to meet bakugou's, whose carmine eyes dripped with a burning passion and the essence of souls, you finally felt. it was the so-sought over love, scorching every note and stroke of your bow and bursting life in every movement, breath, and echo of your performance. it was exhilarating, living through every slur and chord you played. when you finally met his eyes he understood, a satisfied smile tugging on his lips as his gaze never left yours. this was it - this was dolce, humming sweetly, softly, and gently in your ears and reflecting in the audience's heart. this was dolce, making you realize that you never wanted to play violin alone again.

you picked up a rose that had landed at your feet at the end of your piece, holding it next to bakugou's confused face. in doing so, you reached your second epiphany of the day - perhaps the more important of the two. bakugou's eyes bloomed redder than the rose, deeper than the lowest note on a double bass, and maybe it was he that was the true dolce you were looking for.

notes!!

if you’re reading this, congrats !! this is my longest fic on my account (the record will be broken soon), so i really appreciate you reading this :> (spare a reblog, perhaps?)

first, explaining the playlist:

beethoven’s kreutzer - this was played in the anime, “your lie in april,” and i simply think it fits the “fight” reader and bakugou have. this was played at reader’s first international recital that did not go so well.

kreisler’s liebesfreud (love’s joy) is in the same series as his piece called liebesleid (love’s sorrow), also featured in “your lie in april.” i personally really like the piece. of all of these listed, i think you should listen to this one the most.

beriot’s duo concertante was the other contender for reader and bakugou’s duet piece!

debussy’s clair de lune is simply a favorite of mine. it’s the first piece played at the valentine’s performance (and i like to imagine reader’s listened to bakugou’s recording of the piece)

spohr’s duo for 2 violins is the piece reader and bakugou play! it’s the second part of the duo in allegro, and i once tried to listen to it while following the sheet music. i was so confused every time i did so; i’d get lost and such, and figured my musicality was declining. nope. i was reading the wrong part. so, i started freaking out because oh god the dolce is in the first part, not the second, and thankfully, there’s a bit of dolce in the second part too! however, it did take me a while to decide whether to use the first part instead.

also, spohr invented the chinrest on the violin! crazy :D

paginini’s 24th caprice is considered the hardest out of all 24 caprices. imagine,,, teenage bakugou playing this,,, doing the left hand pizz and all T^T pain

there’s a lot i wish i could cover in this! a lot of reader’s own flaws (ahem, viola jokes) and development were something i couldn’t cover. bakugou’s arc as well! he had an arc a bit before this story takes place :)) tl;dr i’m very tempted to pick my violin up again and start playing

the frog of the bow does not, sadly, go ribbit. it’s the part violinists hold the bow by!

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this :)

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #luna's writing #violinist bakugou

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frostedfaves · 3 years

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Repercussions (6)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, future dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha tries to get you accustomed to your new life, and Wanda has a confession for her best friend.

Warnings: dark themes, slightly sexual content

A/N: currently wishing that Wanda and Nat teaming up to obsess over their girlfriend together had been my plan all along because I’m in love with the concept already! this part’s pretty tame compared to previous ones because it’s more of a filler chapter, but I might post 7 tomorrow to make up for it...anyway, tell me your thoughts!!

Previous part

Commotion in the connected bathroom brought you to consciousness the following morning, and you sat up to stretch as your fiery-haired captor walked into the room. Her eyes trailed over your frame shamelessly, a soft smile on her lips as she walked over to drop clothes in the laundry basket on the opposite side of the room.

“Good morning, my love. Feeling rested?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes, jumping back when you opened them to the sight of Natasha sitting next to you. “Fuck, you’re quiet.”

“Lots of practice, baby.” She leaned forward to peck your lips, stealing a few more quick kisses before pulling away with a grin. “I’ll make some breakfast while you get ready.”

“Ready for what? I’m not exactly allowed to leave.”

“There’s nothing out there for you!” she snapped, taking a deep breath and bringing her smile back to the surface. “I wanted to give you a proper tour of our home today, one that you could remember anyway.”

You got up and grabbed some things for the shower, deciding that it was far too early to fight with someone who had the upper hand anyway. Of course you took your time anyway, moving so slowly with showering, moisturizing and dressing that Natasha returned to the room to look for you.

“Food’s getting cold,” she huffed, arms folded across her chest as she stood in the doorway.

“Thought you couldn’t cook anyway.”

“I’ve been learning from Wanda.”

As soon as you stood up from putting on socks, she grabbed your wrist roughly and pulled you behind her on her way back to the kitchen. She then pulled out your chair and pushed you into it, taking a seat across from you and digging into her meal. The pancakes and eggs on your plate seemed surprisingly edible, and the two of you ate in silence until your plates were cleared. After washing the dishes, Natasha took hold of your hand, lacing her fingers between yours as she pulled you to your feet once more.

“I don’t want you to get bored, so you have access to every room except the bedroom at the end of the hall. I locked it so you wouldn’t be tempted to wander in there,” she told you with a wink as she led you away from the kitchen.

She showed you the spacious backyard, pointing out the different swings attached to the huge trees and the jacuzzi that was covered but ready for use. She also implied that you’d be in trouble if you were to step foot in the garage again, especially to try and escape. She trusted you enough to leave the keys on display, and wouldn’t hesitate to put you in your place if you made any moves.

She showed you a few more bedrooms (one that held whatever clothing she’d moved from the tower), and another bathroom before leading you to the main level again. There you found a third bathroom, one more bedroom, a dining room with a much bigger table and a living room with a huge television.

There was another television in the basement, even bigger than the one in the living room, and a room marked “Security” that was also off limits to you. Around another corner is where you found a gaming area. You sat on the pool table and looked around at the arcade machines and video games that were in various areas of the room. You were so lost in admiring everything that you didn’t realize Natasha was speaking to you until her hands were on your thighs, spreading them apart enough for her to step between them.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Her tone was playful, and you felt yourself physically relaxing as her fingers ran back and forth between your hips and knees.

“No, sorry. I’ve never seen so many games in one house.”

“Well, they’re all yours now, printsessa. Really, you can have anything you want...” Her voice seemed to deepen as one of her hands landed on your lower back, her forehead leaning against yours to give you a perfect view of her eyes as they darkened with lust. “All you have to do is ask.”

Her free hand joined the other as she kissed you, pulling you closer to the edge of the pool table as she worked her tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around her waist as you got lost in the feeling, breathing a little heavier as her lips separated from yours to ghost over your neck, nibbling here and there until she found a spot that made your back arch in her hold. After teasing you until you were grinding impatiently against her, she pushed you back onto the table and started unbuttoning your jeans just as someone cleared their throat.

Natasha pulled back slightly and the two of you turned your head to see Wanda in the doorway, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. You quickly sat up as Wanda walked into the room.

“I’m uh, so sorry to burst in like this, Tash. Clint is here and I also need to talk to you when he’s gone.”

“Alright, I’ll be back.”

She sighed in frustration as she forced herself to leave you while she ran upstairs, and you found yourself looking at the seemingly nervous witch while she avoided your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that she held control over your mind for a week (or possibly more), but you felt surprisingly at ease in her presence, which only made you more curious about her.

“You’re not using your powers on me right now, are you?” Your question broke the silence and caused her to finally make eye contact with you, her gaze significantly less red than the first time but still nice.

“No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I just feel weirdly peaceful around you, and I thought maybe you were doing something.”

She shook her head as her polite smile turned into a grin, and she seemed to just muster up the courage to say more to you when Natasha came downstairs again.

“Okay, Clint’s gone,” she told Wanda as she approached you again, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips and cheek. “Go play a game while we talk in the other room, baby.”

Natasha watched you jump down from the pool table obediently and head over to the nearest arcade machine, an adoring smile on her lips the entire time. She then turned to Wanda and nodded at the couch in front of the television, following her over there and sitting next to her.

“What’s going on? You seem shaky.”

“I think I should stop helping you,” Wanda told her, shrinking back a bit when Natasha frowned.

“What, you got cold feet or something?”

“No, I just have a problem and I don’t want it to get worse.” She sighed heavily, mentally reminding herself to stay calm. “I think I’m falling in love with Y/N just as quickly as you are. She’s been in my head since the night I went with you to her apartment and I thought maybe it was just physical attraction but… Honestly, I’d kill anyone if it meant being able to have her the way that you do, and I don’t think it’s fair of me to stick around when I feel this way.”

Natasha was silent for a few moments with a neutral expression, and Wanda didn’t dare listen to her thoughts in fear of hearing something she’d hate. Finally her best friend turned to her with a playful smirk.

“Well, as long as my printsessa agrees, I don’t see why we can’t share her.”

Wanda felt her muscles releasing every bit of anxiety-induced tension they held, and a timid smile appeared on her own features.

“Are you sure, though? If this isn’t something you want, I have no problem just--”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled as she grabbed Wanda’s hand to stop her from rambling. “It’s new for me, but I’m willing to try it out. Maybe our baby will listen better to both of us.”

“Our baby...I love the sound of that.”

“I do too.” She squeezed her hand with a suddenly mischievous grin as she came to a realization. “Since you’ll be joining us, I have something to show you.”

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @emilyprentisswife @fayhar @bebe404 @seventeen0 @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sxphiaswitch @becka107 @trikruismybitch @cherrieloco @muted-stoneheart @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @mjaudrey @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @darkangelxoxo @witchxaf @sakurat123

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

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The Silent Auction- (Hizashi Yamada X Fem!Reader)

This is my contribution to the Citrus Dome Auction Collab! Hizashi is honestly one of my favorite characters to write for and it’s a crime I don’t use him more.

Word Count: ~8.5k

Contains: smut, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, DDLG (if you squint)

Banner by @ladyshinigami

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I can’t believe this.” You sigh for the umpteenth time, twisting this way and that to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You’re wearing a rich, black, floor-length gown with a high slit up one side and just the right amount of ruching to tastefully accentuate your curves. It was truly a miracle that it fit without the need for alterations, considering you’d had to buy the thing in a rush. Hell, you’d barely glanced at the price tag before slapping down your company credit card, viewing it as a bit of karmic justice for your boss’ callous, last-minute assignment. Sure being a sidekick of Endeavor’s (even a minor one) had its perks, but that didn’t make him any less of a nightmare to work for. As you struggled with the miniscule clasp on your necklace, you replayed this morning’s events in your head.

“The Heroes Gala?” You’d questioned, cocking your head in confusion and earning an irritated groan from the Flame Hero.

“Surely you’ve heard of it.” He’d snarked, the flames that ring his face seeming to flare in annoyance. “The Commission holds it once a year as a way to celebrate our achievements in hero society today and raise money for future endeavors. Dignitaries and heroes from all over the country– the world really– are expected to attend.”

“I’m aware of that, sir.” You’d chirped back, straightening up to make up for your lapse in decorum. “I’m just confused by what this has to do with me.”

If looks could kill, the glare he’d shot you would have put you in a coffin.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been called away on an urgent mission and can’t make it to the gala this year. But since I am the Number One Hero, my agency must provide some form of representation. That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes went wide at that, heart jumping into your throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. As far as your job was concerned, Endeavor’s word was law. There was no bargaining or substitution to be made. He didn’t even wait for a response before continuing.

“Your role for this event is simple: smile, wave, and maybe bid on a few of the auction items as a show of good faith. If you win something, fine. Just make sure it’s nothing… distasteful.”

You were tempted to question the noticeable shudder that ran through him as spat out the final word. But the careless wave of his hand was the signal for you to bow and leave, giving you no room for queries. However, just as you were about to walk out the door, he decided to toss some parting remarks your way.

“Make sure to wear something appropriate. It is a black tie event, after all. And one of my other sidekicks will be escorting you this evening. Call it insurance to make sure you don’t do anything to embarrass me.”

“Asshole.” You hiss under your breath, successfully hooking the clasp shut and putting a few loose hairs back in place. “What does he think I’m going to do? Get wasted and swing from the chandelier?”

Still muttering a litany of colorful curses, you march to the edge of your bed and plop down to slip into the matching stilettos you’d picked out during your brief shopping trip. Shoes like these were normally well out of your comfort zone (not to mention your price range), but you weren’t the one paying for them. Call them compensation for sacrificing one of your precious nights off. Once they were on, you stood up from the bed and carefully made your way over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. You smooth down the fabric of your dress, picking away a few stray pieces of lint and checking for any “embarrassing” blemishes or stains. But everything is almost irritatingly perfect, not a stitch out of place. You’re about to launch into another tirade against Endeavor when your work phone chimes from it’s spot on the nightstand. No doubt it’s your “escort” (you refused to call him a date) texting to let you know he was coming to get you. Or worse, already here.

“No turning back now.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is it.” You hear Endeavor’s other sidekick grunt, forcing you to snap out of your daydreaming and look towards him. You hadn’t batted an eye when you stepped out of your apartment to find Endeavor had sent a limo, driven by one of his fleet of personal chauffeurs, to pick you up. He did have a knack for flashing his wealth and status whenever possible. What did surprise you was his choice of escort for the evening: a man by the name of Buru (or Taurus if you were to use his hero name). Buru was a fair bit older than you, sporting a pair of bull horns and hooves, and corded with so much muscle it was a wonder how he managed to squeeze into a tux. You seem positively miniscule compared to his hulking frame, making you look like a rather odd couple. The driver pulls up to the curbside, quickly putting the limo in park before getting out to hold the door open for you. He courteously extends a hand to you, which you graciously accept before snagging your evening clutch from the seat beside you. You gracefully step out of the vehicle and onto an honest-to-god red carpet leading towards one of the glitziest hotels in the heart of Tokyo, blinking in the wake of what feels like a hundred camera bulbs flashing around you. Reporters and cameramen are clamoring to snap pictures of the various celebrities and heroes, asking questions that run the gamut from classy to trashy.

Buru plods around the limo to join you by your side, giving you a subtle nod to signal that it’s time to start walking. You set off down the plush runway, walking with more confidence than you felt as reporters peppered you and Buru with questions about your relationship to the Number One Hero. Evidently they’d been tipped off regarding Endeavor’s absence. Buru remained stone-faced, his long strides quickly outstripping your much more delicate steps.

“So much for being an escort.” You think, deciding to pick up the pace so as to not be left behind. And that decision quickly reveals itself to be a terrible mistake. Your pencil thin heel catches on a hidden snag in the carpet, causing your ankle to twist and buckle beneath you. You’re thrown off balance, teetering wildly before plummeting headlong towards the carpeted pavement. But before you can fall flat on your face, a set of strong, slender hands wrap themselves around your torso and pull you upwards, your back coming in contact with your savior’s chest.

“Woah there, little listener!” A familiar voice trills in your ear, their hands releasing you once you’re back on stable footing. “You almost took one helluva stage dive! You good?”

You turn over your shoulder to find a smiling face, framed by outrageous orange sunglasses and a well-trimmed mustache. Hypnotic, emerald eyes seem to sparkle back at you and his long blond hair is tied up in a messy, half-bun. You know this man. Everyone in Tokyo with a radio knows him: Present Mic, the Voice Hero.

“Thanks, Present Mic.” You mumble, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks. It was bad enough you’d stumbled in front of the press; the incessant clicking and flashing of cameras was reminding you of that. But to be saved by another hero on top of it… it was a little too much. However, the blonde doesn’t seem to care, giving a hearty laugh and clapping a hand on your shoulder good-naturedly.

“Don’t mention it, baby!” He chortles, winking in a way that would seem forced or cheesy coming from anyone else. “Always happy to help. Besides, it doesn’t seem like your boyfriend is too keen on stickin’ around.”

“Boyfriend?” You ask, cocking your head before remembering who you came with. You blush an even deeper shade of red, sure your face is about to burst into flames akin to your employer’s own. “Oh! No, no, no! He’s not my boyfriend. We just work together at the agency.”

“No kiddin’?” Mic says, his grin spreading impossibly wider before straightening up and offering an arm to you. “In that case, how ‘bout I lend you a hand until we get inside? No offense but those heels ya got on seem closer to stilts than kicks, ya dig?

While his radio slang is a bit confusing, you can’t help but find it a little endearing. With a sheepish nod, you grab a hold of his jacket-clad forearm and allow him to smoothly lead you down the remainder of the red carpet. He’s in full ‘Present Mic mode” as you walk together, all winning smiles and carefree waves as the press peppers him with questions.

“Mic who are you wearing this evening?”

“Present Mic! What’s the name of your damsel in distress?

“Mic! Is it true you’re involved in a scandalous affair with fellow Pro, Eraserhead?”

He lets their shameless inquiries roll off of him like water off a duck’s back, only blowing a dramatic kiss to the crowd before you both disappear behind the front doors. Once inside the lobby, Mic walks you over to one of three elevators, ushering you inside with a crush of other gala-goers once the doors open. It’s a short ride up to the venue space, and you can’t help but gasp when the elevator doors open onto an immaculately decorated ballroom. Every wall and archway is decorated with banners in the Hero Commission's signature black and gold colors, festooned with matching sprays of floral arrangements. There’s a live band somewhere in the room, playing soft jazz in the background to create an elegant atmosphere for the evening. But most impressive of all is the view; the farthest wall is made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the Tokyo skyline. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, washing the room in an amber light that gives everyone a coppery glow. You’re so spellbound by the scene before you that Mic’s low whistle causes you to jump slightly. How long has he had his arm draped over your shoulders? Come to think of it, when had you slipped your own arm around his waist?

“Damn.” He breathes, carefully walking out of the elevators with you in tow. “This place is bitchin’. So much cooler than last year’s venue.”

“Is that so?” You say, your head swiveling around as a waiter breezes past you with a tray of finger foods. You don’t notice the way Mic watches you, nor do you see the crooked smile that crosses over his face as your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“Oh yeah.” He says, leading you away from the elevators and further into the crowd. “Last year the Commission rented out some–”

“Mic!” A deep voice calls above the steady thrum of conversation, cutting him off. An equally deep, if not more irritated voice calls out your own name simultaneously. The two of you look in opposite directions, the blonde towards a pair of dark-haired individuals waving him over and you towards your forgotten escort. Buru is fuming, smoke practically pouring out of his ears as he marches towards you.

“Where were you?” He growls while grabbing the hand closest to him and pulling you away from Mic harshly. “You’re not supposed to leave my side. Boss’ orders!”

“Stop it Buru!” You snap, yanking your hand out of his grip. “If you didn’t want me to leave your side, maybe you should have waited for me back on the red carpet. I nearly fell and busted my ass thanks to you! If Present Mic hadn’t been there–”

“No excuses.” Buru snaps back, “I shouldn’t have to wait around because you can’t keep up. We’re Mr. Todoroki’s sidekicks, so try to act like it!”

“Todoroki?” You hear the blonde hero echo behind you, “As in Enji Todoroki? Endeavor?”

You wince at Mic’s words, grateful your back is turned to him at the moment. Endeavor may be a hero, but being associated with him didn’t evoke a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings in folks. And many tended to react poorly when they found out who you worked for. With a dejected sigh, you turn back towards Mic, ignoring the way Buru impatiently stamps his hooves behind you.

“Yes, that’s right.” You say glumly, putting up your mask of professionalism. “I’m one of Endeavor’s sidekicks. He was called away on urgent business and sent me and my associate here to represent him and his agency. Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

You offer a quick, apologetic bow, hoping to slink away as quickly as possible. But to your surprise, Mic doesn’t scoff, jeer, or even try to suck up to you for favors. He laughs. Not in a cruel or condescending way, but a real, mirthful laugh, infectious to the point you feel your own tension ease slightly.

“So that’s why I didn’t recognize ya!” He chortles, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Although it’s not too surprising. That dude cycles through more sidekicks than a jukebox does music.”

The nonchalant way he insults your boss causes your mask to slip and you let loose a giggle of your own. Buru, on the other hand, is clearly not amused.

“How dare you insult the Number One Hero!” He roars, stepping forward to point a scathing finger at Mic. “Endeavor is twice- no, three times the hero you could ever hope to be!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy, dude!” Mic says, putting his hands up before shooting you another playful wink. “All I meant was I definitely would have remembered meeting a pretty little thing like your partner here.”

You find yourself blushing and batting your eyelashes at him, returning his obvious attempts at flirting in a more surreptitious manner. Buru just places one broad hand on your shoulder, giving Mic a derisive snort before he starts to drag you away.

“You’re not worth the effort.” He huffs, “Just stay away.”

You can’t resist adding one more match to the fire of Buru’s rage, looking over your shoulder and belting out a cheerful, “It was nice meeting you!”

“See ya around!” The blonde calls back, giving you a chipper wave before disappearing into the throng. Buru leads you to a table at the far end of the room, set with fine crystal stemware and gold place settings. He stiffly pulls out a chair for you, allowing you to sit down before taking up residence beside you. You’re amazed the flimsy looking things can support any weight at all, much less the mountain of horned muscle currently glowering at you. He crosses his arms and leans back with a grunt.

“So… now what?” You ask, absentmindedly fiddling with the gold napkin ring in front of you.

“You stay put.” He commands, “No leaving my sight for any reason.”

“You’re joking right? Do you seriously expect me to sit here with you all night?”

Buru doesn’t answer, instead turning his glare onto the crowd. You groan and flop forwards to rest your elbows on the table, opting to occupy your time with people watching. The ballroom is crawling with high-profile attendees: pros and sidekicks, politicians and CEO’s, celebrities and VIP’s. All of them with money, power, and prestige oozing out of their pores. You watch as the tuxedo-clad waitstaff scurry amongst the party-goers, offering up trays of hors d'oeuvres and honey-colored champagne. Every once a while, one of them makes their way over to your table with some delicious little morsel to offer. And in your famished state, the already excellently prepared food tastes like heaven. But when a server carrying a tray of champagne comes by to offer you a glass, Buru grabs your wrist before you can partake and rudely waves the poor girl off.

“What the hell was that for?” You hiss, rubbing at your now sore wrist.

“No alcohol. You’ve embarrassed me and Endeavor enough as it is.”

That does it. You can deal with villains, Endeavor, even your parents if necessary. But this “personal babysitter” schtick has gone far enough. You stand up from the table with a huff, swiftly moving out of Buru’s reach before he can grab you again.

“Sit down!”

“No! I have to go to the bathroom. Can I at least do that?”

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Like hell you will! I’m a grown woman. I can go to the bathroom by myself without getting in trouble.”

Buru narrows his eyes and scowls deeply at you. You stare him down, refusing to back down from this fight. After a few tense moments, he relaxes slightly and gives a curt nod.

“You have ten minutes.”

You grab your clutch, turn on your heel and march off into the fray, doing your best to avoid stepping on other people with your dagger sharp heels. As you make your way across the crowded dance floor, you begin to recognize the more popular Pro Heroes among the sea of faces. Some of them you’d had the privilege of meeting personally, like Hawks and Miruko, both of whom were currently surrounded by fans and admirers. Others you’d only seen on TV or in newspaper clippings, but that didn’t make them any less impressive. In fact, you were too busy watching Fatgum scarf down a whole tray of artisanal onigiri by himself to notice a certain blonde standing in your way until it was too late. You bumped right into him, bouncing off with an embarrassed “I’m so sorry!” before coming eye-to-eye with those striking green whorls again.

“Oh hey, it’s you!” Mic exclaims, grinning down at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. “No need to be sorry, baby. This thing’s a rental anyways!”

“But you’re all wet now.” You say, watching him while he wipes the remains of his spilled champagne off his tux jacket. “I can pay for the cleaning fees if necessary. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Honey, trust me. There are worse things to be covered in than free champagne. I’ve been to enough of these gigs to know!”

You giggle and open your mouth to respond, but are cut off by a velvety voice coming from your left.

“Is this the little songbird you were telling us about, Zashi?’

You turn to find one of Present Mic’s companions from earlier, a dark-haired woman sipping her own drink and watching your exchange. She’s dressed in a skintight, scarlet gown with a neckline that plunges almost to her navel. A matching pair of horn-rimmed spectacles are perched on her nose, framing her striking cerulean eyes. Even without their signature harness and flogger, you recognize her as Miss Midnight.

“Yup! She’s the one!” Present Mic confirms, casually slinging his arm back around your shoulders. “What’d I tell ya? Pretty cute, right?”

The R-Rated Hero turns her gaze on you at his words, the sultry look in her eyes causing your stomach to flip a little. Seriously, it should be illegal for anyone to look that sexy.

“Very cute.” She assesses with a nod, “Zashi says you work for Endeavor, yes?”

“Y-yeah.” You fumble, slightly flustered and tongue-tied in the face of her scandalous beauty. “I’m one of his sidekicks.”

“I’m sorry.” Midnight quips back, her lack of manners shocking you slightly. But judging by the booze-bitten blush on her cheeks, you suppose the liquid courage in her system is to blame. “I know he’s the Number One Hero, but I’ve been his colleague long enough to realize how intense he can be. He must have you on a pretty short leash, huh?”

“I’ll say!” Mic chimes in, “He sent along some “nanny cow” of a sidekick to watch her all night. Speakin’ of which, how’d you manage to shake him?”

“Well…”

You glance back in the direction you came from, only for your face to drain of all color as you see a tell-tale pair of horns bobbing up and down amongst the crowd. Hizashi follows your line of sight and instantly sees the danger. Quick as anything, his arm snakes around your midriff and he turns to Midnight for assistance.

“Hey Nemuri, I got a gig for ya. See that guy with the horns? Big, mean, and ugly lookin’? Think you can distract him for a few minutes?”

“No problem!” She chirps without hesitation, tipping back the rest of her brightly colored cocktail before readjusting the neckline of her dress. It makes you wonder how much cleavage someone can possibly show before it crosses the line into pornographic. You’re too busy looking over your shoulder for Buru to notice the subtle wink that passes between the two heroes. And then Hizashi is moving, seamlessly flitting through the crowd and keeping you firmly glued to his side as you duck and weave around the other guests. You have to admit the speed at which he navigates the crowded space is impressive as he heads for one of the darkened archways lining the walls. Soon the crowd thins out and you reluctantly pry yourself out from under Mic’s arm to get your bearings. He’s lead you into a dimly-lit, side hallway, with tables and doorways lining the farthest walls. The din of party conversation and music is more muffled now, making you feel like you’re in a state of limbo.

“Where are we?”

“Silent auction.” Mic answers plainly, “Figured I’d take you somewhere quieter while we let Midnight do her thing.”

“And what exactly is her ‘thing?” You ask skeptically, wandering over to one of the display tables to check out the wares.

“You’ll see.” He says with a smirk, silently following behind you with his hands in his pockets. There are miniature spotlights shining down on the auction items, with slips of paper and pens for people to write in their bids. All the prizes are exceedingly lavish, from baskets overflowing with expensive spirits and goodies to exotic trips around the world. And the bids themselves leave your head spinning, shocked and a little sickened by the amount of money being casually thrown around.

“I’m sorry, the minimum bid for this is how much?” You scoff, pointing at the high price tag on what appears to be a singular bottle of wine. Mic leans over your shoulder to read the number himself, letting out a low whistle.

“Must be some good stuff.” He says with a smirk.

“I’m totally bidding on it.”

“You’re kiddin’ right? Last I checked, sidekicks don’t make that kind of bank, even if they do work for the Number One Pro. What are ya, some kind of secret billionaire princess?”

“Sadly no.” You say, digging into your evening bag to pull out a sleek, black card. “But I’m not the one who’s paying. And Endeavor did say to bid on a few items, ‘as a show of good faith.”

You end your sentence on a terrible impression of the Flame Hero, earning another snicker from the blonde as you place your bid. The pair of you wander the auction area for a while, gawking at the ludicrous prices and talking quietly. Or at least, as quietly as the blonde can manage. You fall into easy conversation, mainly discussing work in the hero world and Mic’s teaching career. Present Mic, or Hizashi as he prefers to be called, is a surprisingly eloquent speaker and his high-energy demeanor ensures there’s never a lull in the conversation. It’s honestly refreshing after dealing with the snooty, intense people you’re used to at the agency. Not to mention, he has no qualms about encouraging you to be a little mischievous when it comes to spending your boss’ money.

“How ‘bout that one?” He says, gesturing to a particularly gaudy piece of abstract art. “I think that would look rad on the big man’s mantlepiece, yeah?”

You giggle and lightly push against his arm, as mild punishment for his goofiness.

“No way. Endeavor specifically said to not bid on something too ‘distasteful.’ And I’m pretty sure that thing is towing the line. What’s it even supposed to be?”

“It kinda looks like All Might.” Hizashi offers, “If you stand really far away and squint. I don’t really know much about fine art. But I do know ‘distasteful’ and I’m tellin’ ya now, this aint it baby.”

“And what would you qualify as distasteful?”

A grin that can only be likened to the Cheshire Cat spreads across Hizashi’s handsome face.

“I’ll show you.” He says, extending a hand to you. You grab a hold and allow him to guide you towards one of the doors along the wall. As you get closer, you realize there are small placards inscribed with a number on each of the handles. Hizashi is currently leading you to a door marked with the number seventeen, opening it for you and allowing you to step inside ahead of him. You find yourself in a much smaller room, washed in the same dim lighting as the rest of the auction area. It’s just big enough for two people to stand inside (three if they’re thin), and the oak paneling and cramped quarters almost remind you of a confessional booth. But there’s no man of the cloth here; instead there’s a screen set into the farthest wall and a small, black button resting on a shallow shelf below it. The screen only displays a three-digit number, every so often flashing red before going back to the number.

“What the hell?” You breathe while stepping farther into the room, allowing Hizashi to squeeze in behind you.

“Welcome to the main event of the Heroes Gala.” He says, closing the door. “The Anonymous Auction.”

“The Anonymous Auction?” You parrot back quizzically, turning around to face the blonde.

“You’re aware that most of the Commission's funding comes from public taxes, yeah?” He asks, waiting for your nod before continuing. “Well taxpayer dollars can only go so far. Especially when hero and villain activity has only gone up over time. Rebuildin’ a city you just smashed like an old record ain't cheap you know.”

He pauses to jerk one thumb behind him.

“That’s why they started holdin’ auctions– this whole gala, really– in the first place. It’s all just a fancy way to supplement the Commission’s budget. And due to the popularity of the auctions, they started offering some more… exclusive items in recent years.”

“What do you mean by exclusive?”

Hizashi gives you another playful smirk, looking at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“You’re a smart girl. What do you think it means?”

He steps a little closer to you and places his hands on your waist for emphasis, thumbing small circles at the swell of your hips. You unconsciously lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed for a moment before snapping open once more, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“You mean like sex stuff!?” You squeak bluntly, earning a laugh from the Voice Hero.

“Well not all of it! But there have been some bizarre and kinda risqué items up for sale in the past.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I know for a fact that Nemuri donates a part of her “collection” to the auction every year.” Hizashi states, putting air quotes around the term. “And rumor has it that last year All Might auctioned off a pair of his underwear. I don’t know about that one, but if that’s true, then it explains how UA paid for it’s new training grounds and why the staff got a nice Christmas bonus.”

You can’t help but giggle at the thought of some snobby billionaire drooling over a pair of All Might’s underwear. Maybe they’d had them framed, mounted on the wall like a hunting trophy. You’re too caught up in your ridiculous daydreaming to realize Hizashi has stepped even closer to you, not until you can feel his hands sliding a little further down your sides and a little farther behind you. You’re now chest to chest, breathing in tandem as he leans down to speak directly into your ear.

“So now that we’re in here… what do you say we play a little game?”

His voice is low and smooth, audial honey dripping into your brain. Your breath unconsciously catches in your throat as your body moves of its own accord to press closer to him. The energy between you is shifting palpably, from friendly strangers to something much more intimate and heavy. The room feels like it’s heating up and your dress suddenly feels much too snug.

“What kind of game?” You murmur back, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he hums in response.

“How ‘bout the quiet game?” He says, his bristly mustache tickling your cheek when he speaks. “But we’ll make it a little more interesting.”

You can feel him begin to gently push against you, forcing you to walk backwards until you feel the top of your tailbone bump into the low shelf. Hizashi’s hands never leave your body, roaming lower to finally settle on the plush curve of your ass. If anybody else was doing this, you’d have kneed them in the jewels and run for the nearest exit by now. But for some reason, you trust Hizashi. You want Hizashi. And if the steady throbbing in your core is any indication, you need Hizashi.

“Here’s the deal, babygirl.” He says, lifting his head to rest his forehead against your own. You can’t help the way your thighs tense at the pet name, something that definitely doesn't go unnoticed by the Voice Hero. “You’re going to try and stay as quiet as possible. And every time you get too noisy, you’re going to press that little button.”

His eyes flit over to the device in question before locking back on yours.

“That button raises your bid on whatever item is currently up for grabs. So the less noise you make, the less bids you make. And you wouldn’t want to end up winning something distasteful, yeah?”

You subtly shake your head and crack a small smile at his joke, bringing your hands up to rest on his clothed pecs. You’re surprised to feel powerful muscles rippling underneath his rented dress shirt, along with the heat rolling off of his body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Clearly that rented tux is doing nothing for his figure.

“Well what are you going to do?” You tease, running your hands up the plane of his chest and underneath the jacket to grip his broad shoulders. “Seems like I’m the only one playing this game of yours.”

One of his hands leaves your ass to hook a finger under your chin, forcing your head to tilt upwards. He gives you a sinfully wicked grin.

“Oh but that’s the best part, baby. I’m going to try and make you scream.”

Suddenly his lips are crashing into yours, sloppily at first but soon smoothing out into a steady push and pull. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently before letting it spring back into place. You sigh into his mouth, a sound eagerly returned by the hero. Your nails dig into his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. There’s tenderness in the kiss to be sure, but also a fierce dominance that has you fighting against the moans rising in your throat. Hizashi uses the shelf behind you to force and arch into your back before kissing his way down the sensitive column of your throat. He licks and sucks at your pulse point, not hard enough to leave marks but enough to remind you that he’s in control. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, even going so far as to clap a hand over your mouth when he gives a particularly sharp nip. He clicks his tongue against your skin, bringing up his free hand to pull yours away.

“Ah ah ah. No cheating, baby.” He says, moving farther down your chest until his chin rests between the supple swell of your breasts. “If you try to put yourself on mute again you’ll have to press that button regardless. Ya dig?”

You nod and he releases your hand, allowing you to curl your arm around and place it at the base of his neck. Pleased with your compliance, Hizashi hooks his thumbs under the straps of your dress and gently shrugs them off. The top half of your gown falls away, pooling around your waist as your breasts are fully exposed to the open air. They pebble and peak instantly, despite the perceived heat in the room, and you feel Hizashi’s hum of appreciation rumble through your sternum. His hands come up to cup them, indulging in their full weight and supple give as he squeezes them lightly. His head dips down to kiss your right breast, ghosting over the pert bud of your nipple as he places featherlight kisses around the areola. It’s maddening, far too light and teasing for your liking. The hand on the back of his neck suddenly fists in his hair and you pull him closer to you, squishing his nose against the pliant flesh.

“Damn baby. Feelin’ needy already, huh?” He chuckles against you, pulling away slightly to look up at you through half-lidded, golden lashes. You whine softly, still pulling his head closer to your body. Hizashi resumes fondling your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while using his thumb and forefinger to toy with the other. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub, every deft twirl and brush mirrored by his fingers. It’s a blissful sensation, heating licking across your nerves and shooting straight to your core. Suddenly, he gives a particularly hard suck and pinch, pulling an involuntary gasp from you. You can feel his smug grin before you even look at him, and he pulls off your nipple with a soft pop.

“Strike one, princess. You know what you have to do.”

“I thought you said no cheating.” You whine, feeling the fresh slick coating your panties and relishing the lingering sting emanating from your nipples.

“It’s not cheating, it’s part of the game. Your job is to stay quiet, my job is to break the silence. Now are you going to play by the rules or not?”

You look over at the seemingly innocent button and furrow your brow. It’s only just dawned on you now that you have no idea what you’d be bidding on and a bolt of panic shoots through you. What if it was a piece from Nemuri’s collection? Or something worse! Hizashi, seeming to sense your trepidation, briefly raises his head up to plant a soothing kiss to your temple.

“Hey, we can stop if you wanna.” He says, removing his hands from your breasts to cup your cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m not gonna push ya.”

Your eyes bounce between the little black button and Hizashi’s face, biting your lip in your moment of indecision. It was a gamble for sure, a gamble that could easily cost you your job should you end up winning. But then again… how much humiliation and strain had your nightmare of a boss put you through in the past year? The past month? The past 24 hours? Taking a deep breath, you tentatively press the button, the screen behind you flashing green to signal the successful placement of your bid. Hizashi smiles down at you, impressed with your boldness.

“Fuck it.” You breathe, stretching up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m all in.”

Hizashi returns the kiss with interest before fully sinking to his knees, running one hand up the slit of your dress to rest on your exposed thigh.

“Okay then, baby.” He purrs, “I need you to spread your legs a little more for me. Lemme see what we’re workin’ with down here, yeah?”

You willingly comply, widening your stance as Hizashi sweeps the bottom half of the dress out of the way and tucks it behind you. The black, lacy thong you’d picked out for the occasion is soaked through, your essence already starting to coat your inner thighs. Hizashi runs one finger up your barely clothed slit, whistling when he feels how damp they are.

“Damn baby.” He breathes, almost like he’s in awe. “These are fucking ruined.”

You resume biting your lip when you feel two of his fingers hook underneath the material and pull it to the side, fighting against the urge to close your legs.

“Such a pretty girl…” Hizashi coos against you, planting a soft kiss to your right thigh before resting his head against it. “Everything about you is pretty.”

You can’t stop the blush that rises to your cheeks at the whispered praise, nor help the way your cunt clenches around nothing. It certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde as he leans in closer, using his thumbs to gingerly pry your labia apart. He looks up at you hungrily, pupils blown wide with desire as he tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Hold on tight, baby.”

Hizashi uses the flat of his tongue to lick a hot stripe up your slit, letting out a low, filthy moan at the taste. You realize now why he gave you a warning. He’s using his quirk to amplify his moans tenfold, turning his mouth and tongue into the most attentive sex toy on Earth. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, clouding your senses with desire. Whatever restraint the hero possessed dissolves the moment he tastes you, as he latches on to your rapidly swelling clit and sucks roughly. You gasp at the new sensation, hips unconsciously bucking to force his face further into you. He hums and willingly obeys your body’s command, replacing his mouth with a heavy thumb and delving his tongue between your folds to lap at your quivering entrance. The increase in intensity causes your thighs squeeze together, caging in the hero’s head as he dutifully tongue-fucks you. You can already feel an orgasm mounting deep in your core, his earlier teasing and stimulation paying off in spades. But his tongue isn’t enough, even with his quirk.

“M-More!” You cry out, unable to quell your pleading voice. “I need more. Need to cum. Please let me cum!”

Hizashi pinches the back of your thigh, a silent reminder for you to follow through with the rules of the game. With a groan you bring your hand down on the button, ignoring the flashing screen as you grind your hips down onto his face. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away from you, breathing heavily and his face coated in your sticky juices. You whimper at the loss of contact, but his hands keep your thighs spread apart to deny you the friction you seek.

“Good girl.” He pants, still swirling his thumb over your aching pearl. “So good for me, baby.”

“Then why’d you stop?” You softly moan, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d been so close.

“Because,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The only way I want you to cum is on my cock.”

Before you can fully register his words, he grabs you by the hips and flips you around, pulling your dress up and bunching it in one fist. Your panties are roughly yanked down around your ankles and you have to brace yourself against the shelf as you feel the hard bulge of Hizashi’s pants rub against your bared ass. A sharp smack to one cheek causes you to yelp, and a quick smack to the other forces you to bring your hand down on the button.

“Cheater.” You pant, earning a dark chuckle for the man behind you.

“Name-calling are we now, baby? Just for that, you don’t get to cum until I say so. Understood?”

You nod quickly, glancing behind you when you feel him start to fiddle with his belt and zipper. Your eyes widen when you see his painfully erect cock spring free: long, thick, and with a silver ring adorning the reddened tip. He gives the length a few short pumps, coaxing out a pearly bead of precum that quickly winds its way around the Prince Albert piercing.

“I think someone likes what she sees.” He says coyly, flicking one finger against the metal for emphasis. “Ever been with a pierced guy before?”

You shake your head and Mic smirks.

“Then trust me. You’re gonna love this, babygirl.”

He lines the head up with your entrance and starts to slowly push into you, the initial stretch causing you to hiss in pain. But the burn soon melts into pleasure as Hizashi buries himself to the hilt, bottoming out with a grunt of his own. You can feel the metal ring bumping against your cervix already, a low moan escaping when he gives a few shallow thrusts.

“Good girl. Takin’ me so well. So tight and perfect.” He mutters breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper. The praise makes you whimper and clamp down on his cock, earning a moan of pleasure from Hizashi. He starts to move in earnest, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Each forward thrust pushes your face closer to the wall, your breasts brushing back and forth across the cool wooden shelf and stimulating your pebbled nipples.Your mind is floating in a haze of hedonistic bliss as the air around you fills with the sounds of slapping skin and the scent of sex. You can already feel your orgasm racing towards you at a breakneck speed, the coil in your belly tightening with each thrust. Hizashi suddenly sinks his teeth into your right shoulder with a an almost feral growl, blunted teeth nearly piercing the skin. You squeal at the brilliant pain, only to feel his tongue lave over the forming welts, soothing them. You automatically bring your hand down on the button and his pace quickens in response, rewarding you by maneuvering his hips until he finds the spot that makes your vision go white and your mind go blank.

“Th-th-there!” You sputter out, smacking the button before instinctually backing into him. You don’t give a damn about your boss or the money anymore. All you can focus on right now is chasing your own mind-numbing pleasure. He gives a hum of acknowledgement and straightens up, angling his thrusts to hit that spot every time. He can feel the way your walls flutter and shiver, right on the edge of release.

“That’s it, babygirl.” He grunts, licking the pad of his fingers before reaching below your bodies to find your clit. Slender digits rubs tight circles on the swollen bead, the rough touch making you almost sob in relief. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock!”

It’s a demand, one that your body is more than ready to obey. With one final circle of his thumb, the pressure snaps and you cry out in toe-curling ecstasy. It feels like your entire body locks up from the intensity of your orgasm and Hizashi gives a cry of his own when he feels the way your pussy clamps down on him like a vise. He forgoes gentleness in favor of animalistic rutting, gripping your hips to set a brutal and unforgiving pace. His cockhead and piercing continually slam into your g-spot and cervix, lengthening your own orgasm to an almost unbearable extent.

“Shit.” He curses, pistoning into you like a rabbit while his balls slap against your clit. “I’m fuckin’ close. Where do you want it?”

“Cum in me!” You wail, the game forgotten as fireworks explode behind your eyes. “Please! Hizashi! I need it.”

Hearing you beg so sweetly for him snaps what little composure he had left. Hizashi lets loose a guttural howl and after a few harsh thrusts, his hips stutter to a halt. You can feel his cock pulsing deep within you, filling you up with rope after rope of thick, white seed. He stays inside you for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling the way your velvety walls throb around his length. Your body feels hot and heavy, head swimming as you gradually come down from the high. Eventually, Present Mic pulls his spent dick from your abused hole, pausing to admire the way his cum oozes out and drips onto the wood floor before pulling your panties back up. Your legs might as well be made of jelly for how useful they are right now, wobbling on your stilettos as you hold onto the shelf for dear life.

“That…” You pant, “That was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Hizashi says behind you, tucking himself back into his trousers before smoothing one hand up and down your exposed back. His gentle touch causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, your nerves still overly sensitive.

“Yeah.” You breathe, “I needed that.”

Hizashi smirks and leans down to pepper kisses along your shoulder blades, basking in the afterglow alongside you. You practically melt under his affections, never wanting this tender, warm feeling to end.

“Can you stand?” He asks after a few minutes and you weakly nod. Carefully, he helps you stand upright, brushing a few stray pieces of hair behind your ear while you fix your dress and cover your chest once more. Hizashi then moves to fix his own half-bun, smirking at the way you’re dreamily looking up at him.

“Hey space cadet.” He teases, tapping the tip of your nose with one finger. “Come back to Earth for me, will ya? We better get outta here before your nanny cow calls the cops. Or worse, Endeavor.”

You blink slowly and hum in agreement, lazily looking over at the button one last time. And then you freeze. A new message is scrolling across the screen:

Congratulations! You have won lot #114. Please collect your prize.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, feeling your blissful headspace drown under an icy wave of fear. “Oh my god, NO! What the fuck did I just do?”

“Hm?” Hizashi turns to the screen and it’s too-cheerful message. “Oh! Well wouldja look at that?”

“Why are you being so calm about this!?” You shriek, grabbing him by the lapels of the tuxedo and frantically shaking him. “My boss is going to kill me! I have no idea what I– what he just bought! It could be a dildo in the shape of All Might’s dick for all I know!”

“Hey, hey! Chill out, baby!” Hizashi says, placing both hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Just breathe for me, okay? Nice and slow. You didn’t buy anything like that, I promise.”

“How do you know?” You squeak, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Because I know exactly what they were auctioning off with that lot number.”

“Then spare me the dramatics and spit it out, Hizashi! What did I just win!?”

“... Me.”

The world seems to stop for a moment as you stare up at Hizashi’s sheepish face. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, your overloaded brain trying to find the right words to say. It settles on a neanderthalic, “Huh?”

“You won me.” He repeats, “Well not forever anyways. Just for 24 hours.”

“I don’t understand. Are you trying to be funny?”

“I’m dead serious, baby! The Anonymous Auction doesn’t just offer material stuff. People can bid on and win “dates” with Pro Heroes. The more popular the Pro, the more money comes in. I volunteered to do it this year since a couple of my buddies did it last year.”

You blink slowly, allowing your panicky brain to process this new information.

“So… is that why you brought me here? Because you knew it was time for the bidding to start on your date?”

“I swear, I had no idea.” Hizashi says, crossing an X over his heart for emphasis. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you more and get ya away from that creep of a partner you came with. It was honestly just a lucky coincidence.”

“And the quiet game?”

“I came up with that on the fly when I saw my lot number on the screen. But I didn’t expect you to actually win the auction. And if you don’t wanna go through with this because of your boss or me, then I totally get it. You can always defer to the second highest bidder. That kinda thing happens all the time.”

You step back from Hizashi and turn away, muttering a quick, “Give me a minute.”

Looking past the insanity of the situation, you had to admit you were a little impressed, even grateful, for Hizashi’s scheme. He’d saved you from dealing with Buru, at least for a little while, and made sure you had a fun time doing it. And besides, it’s not like you weren’t attracted to the man. Sure he was loud and goofy, but he was also sweet and charismatic. Not to mention a damn good lay.

“... Okay.” You say after a few moments of thought, snapping your attention back to Hizashi. “Here’s what I want to do.”

You hold up one finger.

“First of all, I want to find a bathroom and get myself cleaned up. This is a nice dress and I don’t want it to get stained, if you catch my drift.”

Hizashi nods in understanding. You put up a second finger.

“Secondly, I’m absolutely starving. So I want to get some water and food. And maybe a glass of champagne.”

Hizashi cracks a smile at that, giving a chuckle of “You got it, baby.”

“And finally,” You say, stepping forward to grab Hizashi by the front of his jacket and pull him in for a kiss. “I want to collect my prize.”

#hizashi yamada #hizashi x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #hizashi yamada x reader smut #mha x reader #citrus dome collab

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downywrites · 3 years

Text

Bird is back, baby.

Phil owns a speakeasy, and the Dream Team needs some information he picked up from his shenanigans.

Dream gritted his teeth, the feeling grounding him in the cacophony of the speakeasy. The bar sounds equally overwhelmed him and drowned out his thoughts, the smell of raw booze burning in his nostrils. He grunted in annoyance, trying to avoid as many people as possible. Even so, a good amount of people looked at him questioningly. He longed to bring in the rest of his team, but he knew that it would cause much more of a stir if he did so. Sapnap never did well with crowds (and especially not in wooden buildings), and George turned heads left and right. He sighed, exasperated. All this just to find that stupid little fox informant that double-crossed them.

He weaved through the swaying crowd with the ease of a warrior, searching for the bar. Spotting the wooden structure, he moved towards it with purpose, pushing people to the side. The man working the bar frowned slightly. His wings fluttered slightly behind him, adorned with small wingclips and gems that sparkled in the warm lightbulb rays as he moved. Dream looked at him up and down, confirming to himself that yes, this was the man that Techno talked about all the time. The bartender stood his ground, pupils flicking up and down in the same manner. A warrior, he presumed, based on the way he held himself. His kimono shifted as he poured out a drink, flipping the cocktail shaker with ease. He made eye contact with Dream through the eye holes of his mask, taking a bottle from the shelf and pouring out another shot without breaking his gaze.

“Can I help you?” His tone, soft and unassuming, masked the hard edges of the word’s implications. Dream’s mind translated his body language for him. ‘Who are you, and why are you here?’ “I’m here because I need some information about someone who frequents this tavern. And I’m sure you’ll answer, because this is an illegal business, is it not?” The people nearby the winged man flinched, turning away from him as if to shield their faces. Dream paid them no heed. He didn’t care about their arrests. They were small fry compared to the bird-man with the powerful aura.

The man offered him a shot. He took it with two fingers, holding it gingerly in his hand as if it were a treasured gift. He didn’t want to make him feel even more threatened, did he? He didn’t seem remotely phased by the mixed signals Dream gave off, simply continuing to serve drinks. “If you are here for information about people in my speakeasy, you’re not going to get any. Things that are said in the Roost stay in the Roost.” The people nearby relax again, many sipping at their drinks and surveying Dream and his weapons. He pulled out a small vial of a glowing purple potion, placing it on the polished wood with a hollow clatter. The bartender picked it up, swirling it around with the dexterity of an alchemist. His sky blue eyes widened. “This is..Techno’s special brew…How did you get this?” “He gave it to me. I know him, don’t you?”

His eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t give that out to just anyone. That mask looks familiar...Dream?” At the mention of his name, several people scrambled out of their seats, faces pale like the colors of the sand nearby Manberg. Whispers of his name curled around his ears, making him grin. The bartender made no move to escape nor attack, simply picking up a nearby glass and polishing it with his wing. “Dream it is, then. I saw you once, but only once.” “Then you must be Philza.”

The man- no, Philza- agreed, bobbing his head slightly. He spread one of his wings, revealing a small wing-gem that shimmered with forest-green light. The emerald’s rays bounced off of his mask, casting a green shimmer of color onto the scuffed porcelain face. “If it’s information you seek, I can give it to you. You have one of Techno’s coveted potions, so you must be of value to him. Very well.” He dug into his kimono, rifling through it and carefully pulling out a small card. He plucked a feather from his wing without a second thought, pulling out a bottle and dipping the feather. The sounds of his newly-made feather quill scratching on the card made him lean in a little. Once he was done, Philza handed him the card.

“Meet me here after hours. I’ll talk to you then.” Dream looked away from him toward the entrance for a moment. He turned back to see nothing but a small, ink-color feather greeting him. A quiet caw made him look up, eyes widening as a shimmering crow the color of high-quality ink flew around the speakeasy. If he was in any other mood, he would have attempted to find out what that was about. He shook his head. He’d ask the man later.

“What do you mean, you just accepted a card and then left?”

“That’s the whole truth, Sapnap! He owns a business, I can’t just hold him hostage during his work hours!”

“I mean, it is illegal.”

“Yeah, what George said!”

Dream was beginning to regret bringing them along to talk with the bird-man. Rolling his eyes, he continued to pace around, waiting for the sound of wing-beats to save him from the incessant blabbing that the other two were doing. Sapnap growled slightly, breathing out a small lick of fire and lightly singing George, who promptly yelped and glared at the blaze hybrid. “Sapnap, you jerk!” Dream slid the mask over his eyes, covering his face and most of his sight. He leaned on the lamppost he was underneath, eyes shutting for a blissful moment of rest.

Of course, as luck would have it, that was when the bartender arrived. The sound of powerful wingbeats and jingling gems and charms made him sit ramrod straight. Wooden sandals made a ‘clunk’ noise as he alighted, shuffling slightly as he arranged himself. Dream scrambled to pull his mask back to its original spot, waving in the general direction of the noise. A small, throaty chuckle proved his guess to be correct. Sapnap’s mouth hung open slightly, jaw slack in shock. “You’re...you’re Philza?” The winged man tipped his bucket hat, hardcore charm fallign to the side as he bowed. His wings flared out for balance, revealing the inner shades and colors of his feathers and the gems beneath his primaries. Sapnap piped up again, eyes sparkling with his signature mischievousness. “You look mighty fine. Are you single?”

George and Dream muffled their groans behind their sleeves. “Sapnap, for once in your life, try to be serious. This is a serious matter.” The blaze shot back, “Well, you always end up sleeping in during the serious matters I deal with! Seems fair to me!” Dream scoffed quietly, turning to look at Philza fully. He wasn’t wearing his bartender garb, so he assumed he gave himself some time to prepare for the rendezvous. Just another thing that might hinder their next move. Dream sighed, fiddling with the potions on his belt. They clinked together, drawing Philza’s attention. “I see you brew as well.” “Of course. How could I decide to avoid an entire brand of magic? Wouldn’t be wise, if you ask me.” Sapnap and George were still having a go at each other, so the masked man simply ignored them, deciding to make friends with the new person. “So, are you willing to give us the information we need?” The charms on his hat shifted as he nodded, glimmering and catching his eye as the light bounced off of it. “Depends on who’s asking and what information you desire.”

Slightly miffed by the behavior of his team, he clicked his tongue loudly. Although the sound of it was muffled by the mask, the bickering hybrids stopped mid-sentence, faces morphing into a more serious look upon turning to face Philza. The winged hybrid took a wary step back, wings flaring out slightly. Dream held his hands out placatingly, tilting his head as to look innocent. “We’re not going to hurt you, we promise. All we need to know is the location of Fundy and other important aspects of his flight.” Philza did not look any less frightened by them. Eyes flicking to the splash potions on their vestures, he hopped on his feet, ready to fly away. “I-I cannot tell you that. Fundy is...valuable.”

Even as he prepared to ‘escape’, his graceful movements clued Dream into the idea that he might not be intending to leave the area quite yet. He hissed under his breath. The movements that the man was using looked similar to Techno, so if he timed it just right… Philza lunged at Dream, angling himself so he could slip through the gap in between the trio. Predictable. Dream grabbed him by his kimono and threw him off balance, allowing him to fall to the floor without any extra injuries. He hopped away from the man and threw a splash potion beside his form. The fragile glass shattered, leaving the potion all over the winged warrior. Philza struggled to get up, his movements hampered by the slowness potion.

Not wanting to let him escape, he threw a weakness potion, carefully angling it so it didn’t hit either of his friends. A small gasp escaped the winged hybrid. He collapsed to his elbows, arms wobbling. “You...you tricked me, didn’t you?” Dream shrugged. “I didn’t trick you. I asked you for something, and you said no. I have to get that information, whether you tell me willingly or not. That is the manner of the world we live in. Not that you would know, saying that you have been isolated from the rest of the world in your tavern. How long has it been since you last left?” He glanced back at Philza, expecting a reaction. None came from him. “Did the potion work that quickly? Or- George.” George scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I-I panicked. Sorry.” Sapnap scoffed, arms crossed over his chest. “You cast your stupid sleep spell whenever we don’t need it. You really are the weakest link in the team.”

“Shut up, you little-” “Enough!” Dream stomped his foot on the floor. “You two have been bickering this entire time! What if the man is a light sleeper? Then all of this is for naught!” Chastened, the two shrank back from his booming voice. “You two need to get into gear. It’s time to be serious. The war is upon us. We cannot fail.” The others nodded, quickly picking up Philza. “Interrogation room?” Dream nodded. He followed behind the other two, shooting flaming arrows at any mobs aggressive (and dumb) enough to challenge them. He muttered softly under his breath, “Philza, I will get that information from you if it’s the last thing I do.”

Philza awoke to the sound of bickering, much to his annoyance. His head spun slightly, reminding him of what type of potions knocked him out. He sighed inwardly. He shouldn’t have trusted such a shady bunch, especially not when he was weaponless and just off of a shift. Gingerly opening his eyes, he saw a blurry bunch walking around his form. Socks shuffled on the hard wood below the surface he was resting on. He tugged lightly on his arms, warning chitter bubbling up when his movement was hampered by a solid restraint. He risked cracking his eyes open a little more to survey the quality of the bonds. The weaker the bonds, the better chance he had of escaping when the time was ripe. Through the blurry circles of his lashes, he saw the dull gleam of leather binding the closest wrist in eyesight. He smiled to himself knowingly. ‘That’s not going to hold me for very long.’

His pupils followed the motion of a blue-clad figure. An assortment of tools clattered onto a metallic-sounding surface behind to the other side of him, making him start slightly. The masked man walked into his sightline slowly. “So, you are awake. Sneaky birdie.” His feathers bristled slightly at the insult. Philza’s voice rumbled deep in his throat as he spoke. “I’m not a ‘birdie’.” He snapped his eyes open, glaring straight at the eye holes on his mask. He stared right back, empty, dark shadows covering the man’s actual irises. The goggle-wearing boy and the bandana man followed suit, staring at the bound hybrid.

“Like we said earlier, we need the answers. We can’t afford to lose the man.” Dream stepped towards the table, a menacing aura emanating from his person. “So, will you tell me of Fundy’s whereabouts? Or are we going to have to do this the hard way?” Phil’s facial expressions hardened at the sound of his grandson’s name. “I can’t do that for you. I have morals. If he could have seen his face, the winged man would have seen his face harden even more. Lips pursed behind porcelain. Dream’s growl caught in his throat. He gestured towards the others. “Get the tools. Bring them to the table.”

The duo nodded in tandem, the first thing that they had done together without a squabble since they and Phil had been introduced. Phil suppressed a snarl when he felt an unknown hand caress the back of his wing, pushing against it roughly and shoving the person’s appendage off of him. “Feisty, aren’t we?” He recognized the voice as ‘Sapnap’. Metal wheels squeaked. The rattle of tools on a cart made his ears perk slightly. He strained to hear what the other two were saying behind his back. “...this…..work?” ‘Shhh…...us..” Phil turned his head away from the rather intimidating figure in front of him, refusing to meet his gaze. “Well, you know that promise I made you while we were acquiring you?” Phil nodded, squishing his face into the table’s surface to avoid looking at those empty eye holes again. “We won’t hurt you. We want that info, yes, but not at the cost of breaking a promise. No, we needed to find something that would break you without ever harming a hair- or a feather, in this case- on your head.”

If the man were anyone else, Phil would have broken the cuffs in a matter of seconds and ripped his mask off of his face. Years and years of dealing with captors can give you as much tact as a hundred-year old strategist in the late SMP wars. But, seeing that Dream was speaking about Fundy, it would be ideal to stay put for now. After all, what the hell could he do to the man? He already promised not to hurt him. He smirked to himself. They had already made the wrong move, and the game hadn’t even started yet. Foolish mortals. He felt sure of his motives, sure of his imminent win, until the familiarly unfamiliar feeling of his boots being untied by unseen hands snapped him out of his egotistic daze. Feathers fluffing, he tried his best to crane his neck and gain a better look at what the two were doing behind him. “W-what are you-?”

Another hand carded through his wings, making him squawk in annoyance and bat their hand away. “I think that torture is always a good way to force people to get info, but I don’t want anyone on my tail. Therefore, something that doesn’t leave a mark would be good, better even, on someone as willful and prideful as you. And I can think of something that I think most of your allies have in common~” His boots came off, revealing his clawed feet. The sensation of frigid air made him cross them over each other. He glared behind him as well as he could, earning a small chuckle from the blue-clad man. A single finger dragged over one of his soles, garnering a small, almost pithy chuckle. “This won’t hurt at all. All you need to do is tell us, and the tickling stops. Got it?”

The winged man struggled in his bonds. The sound of the leather creaking dangerously made the Dream Team step back a little in worry. Dream snarled behind his mask. ‘Being uncooperative, hm? I might need to take him to the more secure area if he keeps misbehaving.’ Dream turned to George. “Splash potion, George. Now.” George pulled out a potion of weakness and poured it onto the man’s form. The liquid traveled down his kimono, leaving trails of weakening fluid all over his back and chest. The struggling slowed down to a mere squirming. Philza knew better than to exhaust his strength. He folded his wings back, snuggling them against his form. Traitorous butterflies erupted in the pit of his stomach. ‘They’re going to tickle me? Out of all the different types of interrogation, tickling? Either way, they’re not going to get the info out of me anytime soon.’ Turning his head back to look at the trio, he folded his ears back, narrowing his eyes in a manner that would make most taverngoers uneasy. The only reaction he got was a smirk from Sapnap. He and George returned to their respective positions behind him, hands and fingers at the ready. Dream stared Phil down from his position above him.

“Anything you want to say before we begin?” The warrior opened his mouth to speak, voice lowered to a mere whisper. “I will not tell you the whereabouts of that man.”

“Barely a man.”

He bristled at the comment, but said nothing more. “Very well. Sapnap, George.’ Almost immediately, he felt someone scribble at his soles. He bit his lip to hold in his chuckles, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of hearing him laugh. “Oh, birdie~ why don’t you laugh for me? I’m sure your laugh must be so cute! Or, even better, why don’t you tell us the location of Fundy?”

“...ngh...n-never.” George raised his eyebrow behind him. “Oh, really? Never? I don’t think that’s true.” George traced a shape into the man’s trembling sole, wiggling his fingers over the other one as well as he could. He whispered behind him, “Sap, go for another part of him.” Sapnap grumbled quietly, but moved to the side of Phil. He dug his fingers into his sides suddenly. “You ticklish here?” Phil squeaked in surprise. He burst into quiet giggles and squirmed weakly in his bonds. “N-nohoho, Ihihihi’m nohot!” “Oh? Is the little birdie getting giggly?”

The bird warrior’s cheeks pricked with heat. “Ihihi’m nohot a bihihirdihie!” Sapnap roughly tazered the man’s sides, poking everywhere he could to keep the laughter flowing. Phil stubbornly folded his wings closed, even though the whole of his instincts told him to take to the skies. George, realizing that his feet might not be the biggest spot on him, also moved away from his feet. He dragged his fingers from the ball of his foot to the heel, travelling past the foot onto the muscle of his ankle. Grinning slyly, he traced the curve of the muscles in his calf. The resulting increase in giggles made his smile widen even more. “Seriously, your laughter’s even sweeter than I thought it would be.” He cooed at him a little, hoping that being seen as cute would harm his sense of pride just a little deeper.

The warrior’s mortification cut deep into his chest at the cooing. “Yohohou cuhuhut thahat ohohut!” He thrashed his legs as much as he could, endeavoring to make contact with the person behind him. “Oh no you don’t.” Sapnap’s hands traveled upwards to his lower ribs, scratching at the bones through the thin gauze of his kimono. Phil’s laughter squeaked slightly. “Noho-nohohono! Nohohot thehere, plehehease!” “Oh, is this a good spot, hm? That’s what you get for trying to kick him.” Phil pushed his face into the table, trying his best not to show how much the teasing was getting to him. His wings fluttered against his will, drawing attention to the soft, fluffy appendages. George smirked crookedly. “Oh? Does the birdie want his wingies tickled?” Phil’s eyes widened significantly. He turned to look at George the best he could, wincing at the slight strain on his neck from the sudden movement. “Nohoho, dohoHOn’t!” The blaze hybrid dug his fingers into the same spot again, making the warrior squeak through his laughter. “I see we have a squeaky toy here. Watch me make him squeak!” He poked it again, giggling softly himself when the squeak came out a little more indignant than he expected.

Dream stood back, watching his friends do the work for him. The blue-clad man wandered to the other side of the table, carding his hands through his shimmery wings. He felt the feathery appendages tremble from his mere touch. “You must be pretty ticklish here. Your reaction definitely sealed the deal on that. The question is, will this be enough to break you?”

Philza knew better than to answer that. George waved at Sapnap to lay off for a moment, before threading his hands carefully through the feathers. Philza shivered slightly from the sensation, dreading what was to come. The butterflies in his chest and stomach took flight again, anticipation weakening his defense for what George was about to do. He cursed his avian instincts, knowing that sooner or later, something was going to spook him into opening his wings. And if he opened his wings while a warrior like George was there….he closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think about it.

The man ruffled the outermost feathers of the wing, admiring its glossy, healthy sheen and iridescent colors beneath their midnight exterior. “You know, your wings are beautiful. Have you ever heard about the tales of the crow? That story is told by villagers to their children. A very beautiful tale, if you ask me.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes, scoffing quietly. He folded his arms over each other, tapping his foot impatiently. He mouthed at George, ‘When are you going to be done with your stupid tale?’ He mouthed back, ‘When I’ve sufficiently flustered him. Just wait a minute.’

He continued speaking, petting the man’s wings as he did so. He rubbed a specific feather at its root, watching the man’s entire body shake from the effort of not bursting into sweet giggles again. “The original story of the crow is that, in his vainness, he put out the torch of the sun while showing off his feathers. The others did not punish him for it, as he punished himself for it by blackening his feathers when he relit the torch. But…”

He dug his hands deeper into the feathers, feeling the warm, soft muscle underneath. “I think a wee little crow like you really deserves a little more of a punishment.” With careful hands, as to not hurt him, he grabbed at the outer joint of the wing and extended it manually. Philza let him, too flustered and too weak to pull his wing out of his hands. Triumph blossomed slightly in George's chest at the same realization. Once the man’s wing was at full extension, he quickly dug his hands into the feathers, raking downwards through the feathers and reaching the sensitive skin underneath.

With a burst of energy he didn’t know he had, Philza screeched, arching his back almost violently and squirming with renewed force. He burst into laughter, squeaks and chirps mixing in with his mirthful cackling. Sapnap grabbed the bonds with his hands, making sure the man didn’t accidentally break the restraints. Dream’s eyes widened in surprise at how well it got the winged hybrid, but simply nodded in the general direction of his close friend. “N-NAHAHA, CUHUHU- IHIHI! HAhAHA!” George continued to drag his finger through his feathers, grinning widely again. “Man, wrecking you is so much fun. You’re so sensitive, too! Maybe we could keep you as our plaything if you don’t give us the info we need!” It took all of Philza’s energy to shake his head ‘no’. Tears threatened to spill, crystalline liquid blurring his vision of the table. “IHIHIHI- FIHIHINE! IHIHIHi- IHIHIHIHI’LL TEHEHELL! STOHOHOP!”

George immediately let up, glancing at the other two. With an air of victory, he walked over to the other side of the table with Sapnap and Dream, acting as if he was the cat that caught the canary. Sapnap glared slightly at him, but said nothing. “So, what were you going to tell us?” Dream’s voice sounded quiet in the absence of the loud laughter that echoed in the room moments earlier. For someone who had lived so many years, it was obvious that Philza still had the voice of a general who could yell through the howling winds of Antarctica.

Phil panted and wheezed quietly, wings fluttering, as he tried to catch his breath. The Dream Team waited patiently for the man- well, slightly patiently. Sapnap tapped his foot on the floor quickly, anxious for him to be back in the game. George cleaned his glasses absentmindedly, not too worried about the info on its own. Dream cleared his throat, trying to get the dazed man’s attention. The hybrid’s eyes sharpened as he turned to look at the group. He smiled cheekily. “Sorry, boys. The only thing I can tell you is that Fundy is someone that I care for. I cannot reveal his position, not at this moment.” Sapnap, the only one looking directly at him, growled lowly. His eyes hardened momentarily, before softening again, as if nothing had gone wrong in their plan. “Oh, you’re going to get it now, bird man.” Sapnap moved towards the man, fingers wiggling.

George took a step forward to follow him. A gloved hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. “George.” Bare fingers tapped on his bicep. “Let him.” Dream leaned back, letting go of George carefully, as if he would bolt if he let go too quickly. Sapnap strode up to Phil quickly, jabbing him in the ribs quickly and darting underneath the flowy folds of his clothing. Without letting him get used to anything, he immediately plunged into tickling the man, testing spots and techniques at the speed of light. His rough palms dragged along the man’s skin, inducing chirpy laughter and squirming from Philza. “Oh, you really fucked up by saying that. You won’t get away with saying that scotch-free, you know?”

Phil replied through his laughter. “Wehehell, Ihihihi gahahahave yohohou infohohoho! Thahahat’s nohohot fahahair!” Sapnap pushed his flapping wings aside to scribble at his back. “Yes, it is! We asked for whereabouts, not why you can’t tell us!” Phil squealed at the feeling of his nails on his spine, going limp in his restraints. His body shook with laughter, vibrating underneath Sap’s nails. “Ooh, a melt spot? No wonder you kept your wings so stil earlier! This spot’s golden!” He let his hands wander all over his back and his shoulder blades, chuckling at the myriad noises the poor man made as he moved from place to place. He traced shapes on his shoulders, grinning when the man hiccuped loudly from the stimulation. “You’re already having a field day, and I’m not even using any tools! And Techno said that you were fearsome? You’re just a cute little crow!”

The indignant squawk from his remark made even Dream crack a smile. “ ‘M NAHAhat cuhuhute!” He shook his head, wing-ears flapping from a mixture of embarrassment and mirth. “Aww, but you little ears say otherwise! Just look at them go!” The blaze hybrid sing-songed, grabbing one and rubbing it between his fingers carefully. The other one shivered and went almost deathly still. A small trill of happiness escaped Phil’s mouth, a noise that immediately caused him to flush an even deeper shade of red.

He whimpered in embarrassment through his giggles, shaking his head slightly. “Aww! Look at him, he’s such a cutie. All embarrassed because he likes it when I pet his ears?” He rubbed it again, this time more firmly. Phil folded his wings shut again, relaxing inadvertently into the man’s touch. His eyes closed without his volition, pushing slightly into his hands. Confused, Sapnap looked over to Dream. He whispered quietly, “What am I supposed to do here? Should I keep going?” Dream shook his head. “Let him rest. We can mess with him after he wakes up.” Nodding slightly, Sapnap continued to rub his ear, waiting for the man’s breathing to even out into a deep and slow, obviously familiar pattern.

Once Phil was sufficiently unconscious, according to his standards, he let go of the now limp miniature wing, walking towards the group of people. “Alright, now what do we do?” Dream took off his mask swiftly, basking in the cool air and the significantly less stuffy atmosphere for a moment. He turned to the other two, grassy green eyes sharp and focused. “We take him to a more secure area, strap him down. Then, we continue to question him until he coughs it out. We don’t have a choice. If Fundy escapes, we are guaranteed to have a problem. Got it?” Sapnap nodded, his bandana bobbing. “Sounds good to me.” George didn’t look too sure.

“If Fundy is of his kin, doesn’t that mean that he may have a bit more of a reluctance to tell us? I’m not sure that questioning him will be time-effective…”Sapnap scoffed, rolling his eyes. He huffed out a cloud of steam in his eyes, making him put on his goggles to avoid getting burnt. “Look, George. Usually, your ideas aren’t that shitty. But, that’s one of the shittiest ideas I’ve heard to date. Yeah, let’s release this intelligent bird-man who is a bartender to many warriors and informants, who now know our location and what we need! He’s going to destroy us almost immediately, that’s for sure!” He threw up his hands, exasperated already. His eyes flashed with anger, a normal and instinctual reaction. “Ugh! Why don’t you ever understand? We’re warriors of high regard! We can’ just...release him!” He moved closer to the other, steam pooling in his mouth like dry ice in a tub of water.

He opened his mouth to speak again, before Dream’s mask clinking on the interrogation table gave him pause. “Enough. We wait for him to awake, and that’s an order. No arguing. If he’s awake, he’ll know that we aren’t as strong as he thinks we are. Keep your guard up.” The cold glaze of his eyes conveyed his own anger. George stepped back slightly from the two, nodding quickly. “Okay.” He turned around quickly, high-heeled boots making solid thumping noises as he walked. “I’ll get water for us.” Sapnap stayed put for a moment longer, red eyes boring into green, before he walked away as well. “Whatever.”

Dream made no move to counter or argue, simply turning to look at Philza’s peacefully sleeping form. He smiled at him, teeth sharp and yellow from countless washings with blood. “Just you wait, Philza. We will get you to break, whether or not your sanity goes with it.” After all, Dream was one to always have the last word, whether it be in an argument or an enemy’s life. That was always how the cookie crumbles, and it wasn’t as if Phil was the only immortal that he had the liberty to break. His lips curled slightly. “Techno would be proud.” He fished around in his pocket, pulling out a familiar emerald, still dangling on a bloodied chain earring. The hook slid into his own earring hole smoothly, as if it wanted to be there. It swung like a pendulum. Back and forth. Back and forth.

If you want a part 2, give me a little winky face in the tags ;)

#downywrites #lee!philza #ler!dt #ler!dream #ler!george #ler!sapnap #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #my writing

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

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The Mandalorian Chapter 12 Reactions: Mando goes on a self care sidequest with friends and now the Razor Crest can fly again

- before we talk about ANYTHING else I have to mention once again:

shut UP they have a statue for IG-11 in the town square!!!!! right outside the school like he’s guarding it!!! I am c r y i n g

- that opening scene was Everything; I have had exactly this type of conversation with my dad so many times when I was a kid and he was fixing up our about-to-fall-apart house (though he’s an electrician so he wouldn’t have let me within fifteen kilometers of anything electrical that was still powered lol. it’s okay tho let’s just assume that star wars tech has extra fail safes for these things that we don’t, the baby is clearly fine)

callout post for Din Djarin: does not own furniture, literally sits on a crate in the middle of the cargo hold to eat dinner, has presumably been living like this for decades, help him

them sipping soup perfectly in sync 😭😭😭 (for some reason I find it so funny that din lifts up and then lowers the helmet for every mouthful fsaldkfhjsadfh it’s such a... I almost want to say dainty? way of doing it and my heart is full of so much affection)

I wonder if they’ve been eating together like this for a while or if it’s din doing just a tiny bit of testing his boundaries now that he knows there are different schools of thought on the helmet thing to see how he feels about it? the baby is extremely curious, but that could also be because he’s seen people take the helmet off completely now and made the connection that presumably his dad has a face above the chin under there too lol

grandpa greef... things I didn’t know I needed but am delighted to get

the way the mando music goes soft and relaxed and almost playful when din spots greef and cara? fcking kills me ludwig göranson going for my throat once again

“hmmm why isn’t this working... the puppy eyes usually work on dad eventually this is unprecedented & concerning”

a baby committing baby crimes through the force and getting away with it mostly scot-free... delightful, wonderful in every way

‘batuu!’ ;_________; baby has a word for food?

din’s Dad Instincts kicking in... I’m emotional over how casually protective he is with things like this, and that he showed signs of it even before meeting the baby (he’s also the last one to stay behind on the platform to make sure the rest of them make it out safely before they start running.... your honor im love this man more than anything he is Dad)

that soft steady protective-but-not-possessive masculinity baBEY

- I am entranced by the difference between din’s fighting style in the last episode -- when he was continually on the back foot and out of sync with the people he fought with -- and in this episode, where he’s back in one man army mode. (he does take on sort of a protective role when he fights with friends -- he’s not quite fighting with them all the time he’s more like a shepherding dog circling them and making sure they’re okay lol) turns out he fights much better with -- for! -- people he actually trusts and knows and likes and who aren’t manipulating him huh :)

- the mythrol dude says in the first episode that he’s a ‘fledgling’, and it makes everything about him so much funnier when you assume he’s his species equivalent of a teenager/twentysomething fsdfsdjkfhsd (he oh so 100% sold din out at the beginning there tho :( the most charitable interpretation is that he didn’t quite know the scope of it -- he did seem just as surprised as the rest of them that gideon isn’t dead, so maybe he thought that weird alien mechanic dude wanted to know about the crest for more mundanely nefarious reasons?)

they are kind of shitty towards him tho I feel a bit bad for him haha

- at least din knows moff gideon is still alive now and can take appropriate precautions as far as possible? on the other hand he doesn’t know about the tracker and I am so scared help

- man I wish gina carano wasn’t such a godawful person so I could appreciate cara dune’s overarms and interesting character development in peace but as it stands... yeah

- @ all the people whining about when we get to ahsoka... meet me in the ring for dishonorable combat I am smol and sort of skinny these days but I have decades of pent up rage and no compunctions about fighting dirty on my side lol

listen... I love ahsoka as much as the next person, but we already have two shows’ worth of content for her. just let me have my thirty minutes a week of slice of life dad and baby nonsense without it being overshadowed by Plot and more established characters okay (and also if the rumours are right about who is going to play her... double y e a h that’s going to be fun to navigate emotionally :/)

- I actually really liked that they went back to nevarro to answer some old questions (where did those empire dudes even come from?? what’s going on with pershing and why am I so weirdly happy to see him again when clearly he is bad news??? what do they need the baby for exactly? how are cara and greef but mostly greef now sadly doing?) and update that whole storyline a bit, while opening even more questions. also stop midichlorian-counting yodito’s blood you fucking creeps

the (likely) midichlorian mention didn’t bother me that much because this show already thrives on the tension between the mythic and mystical and the weirdly mundane and realistic, it’s the one star wars thing I trust to handle the Force the same way without losing the magic of it

- seeing the armorer’s forge like that was honestly upsetting to me haha, I know the forge isn’t what makes her what she is but still

greef karga is a huge bitch and I like him so much

I do like greef’s character growth, though -- it feels a bit like some older and more idealistic (well comparatively) part of him has finally gotten out from under the empire’s boot and restored itself, it’s sweet. he’s doing administrative things that have the whole town blooming! there are plants and living things thriving there now! he wants to establish a safe trading hub!

- f for this poor harried new republic officer, captain carson teva, who along with trapper wolf is apparently responsible for policing the entire outer rim haha

I like the complicated tension between him and the other characters here -- both sides have very good reasons to hold the points of view they do and it’s easy to see why it’s so hard for them to work together but at least this guy is trying to be fair about it

- the way they all immediately agreed when din went straight into ‘get. baby. NOW everything else is secondary’ dad mode and let him go off on his own even tho he would probably have been real useful to have around T______T friendshipppp

baby FINALLY strapped in securely I gave a little shout of triumph haha

the way he was like ‘free cookies! (everything’s free if you steal it #baby yoda life hacks) helping dad with stuff! high speed dog fights! BEST! DAY! EVER!’ through the whole scene right up until he was finally sick but it’s okay because dad is here and will fix it even while he’s driving... don’t even look at me I can’t

- din being in a much more stable and happy place after going to friends for help (and the way it’s reflected in his ship! my theory still stands strong haha)....... mngh im not crying give this man some community he so clearly needs it

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #star wars

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pinkja · 4 years

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Jealousy (Ellie Williams x Female Reader)

Request:

jealous ellie imagine? 😳

—

Ellie was mad at you. She was so mad at you right now she couldn’t even think straight. She couldn’t think about about your how your (e/c) eyes shined and closed as your perfect mouth parted open to let out a laugh like a melody. She couldn’t think about how you wore Ellie’s sweater so cutely because it was a bit oversized on you. She especially couldn’t think about how she wanted to run her hands through your hair and pull you close and kiss–

NO! Ellie was mad at you. Ellie was very mad at you because you and your cuteness in its entirety were talking to some…some dude that Ellie knew in her heart wasn’t good enough to talk to you. Well…Ellie didn’t know what the requirements were to be good enough to talk to you, nor did she know the guy enough to actually tell if he met the requirements, but still.

Ellie wanted to go over there and grab you, but she didn’t want to make a scene at this pseudo party that Dina had dragged you both to. But she swore if she squeezed this empty cup any harder she would’ve broken it.

She eyed the guy again, her eyebrows furrowing. He was tall, but too skinny for someone who lived in the apocalypse. He looked like a bad shot, and he looked like a damn know-it-all, and he bit his lip too often for Ellie’s comfort.

Of course, Ellie’s opinions were filtered through the green glasses of jealously. Wait, no, Ellie wasn’t jealous. She was just being…protective. Yeah, that’s it. That guy could be a creep or something. He could be a douche who compares woman to…dogs or some other insulting animal.

“Ellie, I don’t think that man’s gonna turn to dust just because you’re staring at him like that.” Dina said into her ear. Ellie jumped, holding the cup to her chest as she turned to Dina.

“I wasn’t staring.” Ellie mumbled, shooting another quick glance at you two. “I don’t trust him…” She said after a few beats.

“So you were staring?” Dina was smug, raising her eyebrows with a smile.

“Just…just look at him, Dina! What is so important that he has to have his hand on her shoulder? It’s bullshit.” Ellie crossed her arms and started tapping her foot.

“Is someone jealous?” Dina cocked her head to the side. She did that a lot when she knew she was right.

“I’m not jealous! I’m just…I should be the one making her laugh like that…” Ellie mumbled the last part under her breath.

“You are! That’s so cute!” Dina jumped. “But let me just take that cup really quickly.” Dina took the cup from Ellie’s grip. “(Y/n) will be fine, Ellie. Come on, let’s get you drunk.” Dina led Ellie away, stopping her from looking at the pair.

Dina filled Ellie’s cup almost to the brim and made her drink it all. Ellie turned her head around to look back at two, eyes narrowing once again. Was he brushing hair out of your face? That was her job! You looked at the inside of your cup and avoided eye contact, giving him a half smile.

Aha! So the dude was a creep! He was a creepy creep and now Ellie could go over there and–

“Elliiie!” Dina dragged out her name and took Ellie’s cup away from her. “Everytime you look at them you’re gonna drink another cup.” She filled it to the brim again.

“I’ll die of alcohol poisoning.” Ellie deadpanned, not even denying looking at the two anymore,

“Then don’t look, hmm.” Dina handed the cup back to Ellie and they both drank again. Ellie had to force herself not to look again. These cups were pretty big and Ellie didn’t want to be blackout drunk any time soon.

Later, after several looks at you, and several drinks later, you were still talking to the dude. Of course he wasn’t the only one you had talked to at the party, but he was the only one who Ellie felt was being way too friendly. Although at this point in her life Ellie was pretty drunk so she wasn’t making the best judgements in her life.

“Dinaaaaa…” Ellie slurred, leaning on the girl’s shoulder. Dina turned to her, an eyebrow raised at the sudden contact. “I’m so…mad right now!”

“Let me guess, (y/n)’s still talking to the man who you described as ‘a terrible awful human being who probably doesn’t know the difference between a rifle and a pistol’?” There was amusement in her voice as she repeated Ellie’s words back to her.

“No!…Yes! But also,” Ellie patted her pockets, “I can’t find my keys…” Dina rolled her eyes and sighed, placing her cup down on the table next to her.

“Ok, time to go home, Ellie.” She grabbed Ellie’s hand and started dragging her towards you. “But my keys, Dina…” Ellie whined. “(Y/n)’s gonna take you home now.” Ellie started dragging her feet in protest.

As they approached you, they could pick up on some of your conversation.

“Oh, I go on patrol again in a couple of days!” You had said, placing your cup on the table next to you.

“Well, maybe I can see you again before then?” There he goes biting his goddamn lip again. And he was putting his hand on your shoulder, again. That’s two times in one night!

Ellie wanted to shoot him.

“Ok, you’re clearly about to go on a muderous rampage.” Dina quipped and stopped walking. If Ellie got any closer she would strangle the poor dude. “(Y/n)!” You stopped talking and turned towards Dina with a smile on your face.

“Hi, Dina! Hi, Ellie!” You excused yourself from your previous conversation and walked over to them.

“(Y/n), can you do me a favor and take Ellie home? She lost her keys.” Ellie pouted like a child when Dina told you of her drunken irresponsibility.

“Sure!” You grabbed Ellie away from Dina and walked out of the party with her leaning on your shoulder.

Dina smiled at you two, placing her hand in her pocket to feel around for a pair of keys. Ellie’s keys. “I should probably return these…Nah I’ll give them to Joel.” She turned and went to go talk to Jesse.

Once you and Ellie had made it back to your house, you unlocked the door and listen to Ellie mumble under her breath. You guided her to your room and laid her on your bed. Ellie flopped down with a groan.

“You!” She suddenly said, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I’m so mad at you right now!” She hiccuped after speaking.

With a tilt of your head you asked, “Why are you mad at me, Ellie?” You started to take her shoes off.

“Why do you have to be so damn…so damn c-cute! It’s not fair!” You took off her jacket, struggling a bit because Ellie swung her arms in her drunken ranting.

“Well I can’t exactly help that, Ellie.” You spoke calmly. Inside you were giddy at her compliment, although she was drunk at the moment.

“And then you-you and your cuteness…why did you have to talk to that creep? He looks like a terrible shot!”

“I was just being polite, Ellie. And also, you can’t keep judging people because you think they’re not good with guns.”

“I can and I will! I’m so much better at shooting than him! I swear I can shoot him under the table!” Ellie rolled over to her side. “He doesn’t deserve you…”

You giggled, causing Ellie’s face to turn red. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” Ellie protested, puffing her cheeks out.

You moved to place her shoes by the door.

“Ok, Ms. Williams, who does deserve me then?” You walked back over to the bed and brushed some hair out of her face. Ellie pulled you down to the bed.

Ellie let out a huff and buried her face into your neck. You were going to tease her, but then she wrapped her arms around you and trapped you with her leg. She was clearly avoiding the question.

“Ok, you must be really drunk because you’re actually cuddling me.” She huffed again and made you wrap your arms around her. “Ok, I’ll accept it. This is a rare opportunity after all.” You laughed as Ellie mumbled into your shoulder.

Ellie breathed in your scent and closed her eyes. She would have such a hangover in the morning.

“Hey, Ellie?” You spoke. Ellie hummed, already sleepy. “Love you…” You could practically feel Ellie’s face burn into your neck. “My jealous baby.” You couldn’t help but tease her one last time. You ran your fingers through her hair and hummed a tune before she fell asleep in your arms.

#ellie williams #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us part ii #ellie x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou2 fanfic #tlou #tlou2 #would this count as fluff?#im gonna count it #big baby ellie #thats what im gonna title all my ellie fics from now on

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curedigiqueen · 3 years

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This year I spontaneously watched Appmon nearly 2 times, and I have thoughts about it. And what better way to acknowledge it than on its 5th Anniversary. (Or 4th anniversary of Our Singularity). I'm planning on at least covering my thoughts on the main 5 kids this month, in an order based 100% on who I want to talk about first.

It's Astra.

I think Astra is generally the least liked Appmon character, or perhaps more accurately, is the character I see the most disdain for. And, honestly, I can understand where it comes from. But he’s my favorite Appmon character actually. In a cast with a non-conventional protagonist, a blackbelt idol, and a hacker, Astra’s “Apptube” is well, just kind of there. Like a more modern version of Eri’s idol career. His personality is clearly meant to be representative of the target audience, the group whose number one career aspiration is Youtuber. So, he’s kind of cringy and kind of annoying, especially to an adult audience. I get it. But Astra’s a character I found to have a lot of stuff going on.

I admittedly tend to have a soft spot for the babies of any team, especially if they are assertive enough to keep up with their seniors. And Astra does fit the bill. He’s generally seen to be on equal footing with the others, and his rather aggressive way of talking to the other doesn’t exactly make you think baby of the team. He doesn’t use honorifics, and in general Astra’s referred to in the same terms as Haru and Rei. (As near as I can tell, anyway with my nonexistent Japanese skills, correct me if I’m wrong). The fact he’s in elementary school is a bit more incidental than anything.

We learn the most about Astra’s family and upbringing compared to the other characters, and it is central to his arc. We get a lot of information straightforwardly in the show. He had a lot of pressure on him as the heir to the school, and felt pressured to act the part of the perfect heir. Throughout the show we see him struggle with the pressure of being the heir. As a child he was extremely dedicated to following his father's footsteps. He didn’t seem to see himself as anything other than the heir to his father's school. He seemed set apart from other children, seemingly due to the closed-off way he acted. This dedication to being a good heir was to the detriment of his happiness. Until Musimon came into his life allowing him to loosen up and seek his own happiness. Classic stuff. But Astra is a little more at war with himself than may be obvious by his “annoying” attitude.

While we first learn about Astra suppressing his own eccentricities, in his debut episodes, it’s not until later that we learn about his mother, and learn that this side of his personality didn’t come out of nowhere. His mother is very similar to him, which gives us the question of why he ever became so disciplined in the first place if his behavior isn't out of place in his family, and his mother is a strong advocate for him doing his own thing. In fact, Astra seemed initially a bit embarrassed by his mother when he introduced her to the other Appdrivers. Of course this is almost certainly because his mother calling his friend “pretty” and gushing about her husband and how they met is embarrassing, and even if Astra himself acts just as obnoxious. But even so, he's clearly less respectful towards her. The reasons behind why Astra calls his mother by her first name are unclear, though it doesn't seem to stem from a lack of love for his mother.

But regardless, it helps build the idea that more likely, he was trying to win the approval of people outside his immediate family. After all, as shown in episode 7, it was the assumption that Astra would inherit the school by others that prompted Astra’s response to his father. Even if Astra’s father does have a desire for Astra to inherit his position, he also understands that it's first and foremost Astra’s life to live. Astra however does have a lot of respect for his father and seems to value his opinion immensely, he recognizes that not inheriting the school would be disappointing to his father and does not want to disappoint him. So while I think there is something to be said for Astra’s behavior relating to a desire to impress his father, I don’t personally think it's the origin in its entirety.

Astra over the course of the series is very independent and marches to his own beat, Astra, like Eri, had made the first step to change prior to his introduction, but that doesn’t mean he was already completely different from the boy who acted stiff to prove himself to others. Astra’s second episode deals with him succumbing to peer pressure in his new activity, and his final episode is about not succumbing to his uncle's expectations, the old expectations that kept him down for so long. (But it's also a bit about fulfilling Hinarin’s expectations, expectations he agreed to).

Despite Apptubing being the career choice where Astra does as he pleases, his final episode isn’t about him Apptubing because he wants to but as a way to help someone else. Particularly his cousin. While it isn’t explicitly clear if Astra knows it’s his cousin the fact of the matter is that he’s helping his family through his Apptubing, even if it is something he picked up for himself. (A reasoning perhaps parallels Eri’s reasons for being an idol, wanting to bring smiles to her mom, despite it clearly being something she herself enjoys). His care for his family is exactly the reason he continues to train to be the heir, but that doesn’t mean even if he doesn’t uphold expectations that he can’t be a help to his family.

Astra’s arc deals with expectations vs. a desire to help. Astra in large part is assertive about not having to help other people out and doing his own thing, recognizing he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. But his actions consistently betray his care for others. I think this is most evident in the way Astra acted as if he wasn’t going to help Eri out with her elections, but did so anyway, even if he antagonized her a bit in the process, but ended up being the proudest of her accomplishments. Not to mention the way he continues to train as the heir, albeit on his own terms. Over the course of the series, he becomes more open with his care towards others, culminating in the jailbreak episode, but he’s always been shown to care. He’s finding that balance between living his own life and helping others.

It’s clear that Astra doesn’t hate being heir at least. He’s extremely determined to do both. And personally, I think it’s very possible that he sees Apptubing as a hobby. He after all proposed the half-hour limit himself. Even at the beginning with his most abrasive. He dutifully kept it to a relatively small impact on his life. For all that it’s brought up as an important element in his life, and he is shown breaking his own rule on occasion without consequence. One of the longest times we see him Apptubing is when he’s helping Eri out. Of course on the flip side of that, we have episode 8 where he breaks the rule because his videos aren't doing as well as he likes, but that's definitely tying back to his desire for people's approval. While he is for lack of a better word, tempted into giving up training to be an iemoto to dedicate himself to Apptubing, it isn’t something he seems to seriously consider at all.

The biggest thing Musimon gave him was not the courage to be an Apptuber, but the courage to be himself. Indulging in Apptubing for fun is merely a small part of that. Astra is still the good heir, but he is no longer letting that define his entire life, sometimes forgoing certain parts of training. But that doesn’t mean that tea ceremony is a bad part of his life. There’s also a certain balance in his personality between the abrasive “annoying” boy at the start of the series and the passive boy prior to the show's beginning. I don’t feel that the polite Astra is completely disingenuous. Astra is capable of acting calm and grounded, and this side of himself becomes more apparent as the series goes on, particularly with Eri who, in contrast to him, throws herself into her idol career with more and more genuine passion. When he supports Eri with his videos but asks her to take a break, which tracks with what we know about his fathers working habits. It’s his final focus episode where he is shown to be acting, more in someone else's interest, and even shown to be a bit embarrassed by it. In contrast to an Astra who even in episode 19, was not taking much seriously. I think it’s only fair to say Astra did genuinely inherit some of his father's more grounded and dutiful nature.

And while earlier I did say Astra’s age feels incidental, I don’t think that is to say it has no bearing on his role in the story. It's part of the reason Eri is so dismissive of him at first, Sure, the other’s treat him as equal, and are in no way particularly protective of him, nor do they expect him to be any less capable than him. But this isn’t to say Astra’s relative youthfulness isn’t apparent when with the others at least in the beginning. Astra is definitely on the more immature side of things, he after all is the one who started the rivalry with Eri because his ego was bruised (not that Eri's initial dismissal of him was helping matters any). As I said earlier, Astra mellowed as the show progressed and I think it’s a fair assumption to say he’d continue to do so. Not that he’ll lose his energy, but that he’ll be able to act with more maturity and consideration for others. The most common complaint about him I’ve heard is “annoying”, which is understandable. But that’s not accidental, even in-universe (hah), others seem to find him to be a bit much at first at the beginning of the series. His “annoying” personality is him testing the waters beyond the role of dutiful heir he’s always played. He’s annoying because he’s an 11-year-old boy who does not always know how to act in ways appropriate to his situation. He’s the kid of the group. I do understand if that still makes watching irritating. Watching should be fun after all, but it’s more of a matter of opinion than an objective flaw.

Unlike Gatchmon, Offmon, and Dokamon whose personalities seem to clash a bit with their buddies, Musimon and Astra are consistently on the same page, after episode 8. This is exemplified in episode 29, where Musimon runs away for fun rather than because he wants something from Astra, and Astra is the only partner who seems to have not been worried, recognizing what Musimon was doing. Of course, their fight in episode 8 was about Astra not being true to himself, thus naturally conflicting with the one who is on the same page as his true self. Musimon shares Astra’s high energy but caring nature. I’m not an expert on the Japanese language by any means, but there is something notable about the fact Musimon uses “Boku” to Astra’s usual “Ore”. Musimon and Astra are without a doubt very similar, the only difference in their demeanors being Musimon is perhaps a bit less confrontational. If Musimon being Astra’s buddy says anything about Astra, it’s probably that Astra is by his nature not quite as aggressive as he seems. Which for someone who clearly used to takes people's opinions of him to heart, seems about right.

Astra’s arc is all about expectations, expectations as an Apptuber, and as the heir. Astra living up to, or disregarding expectations based on what he believes is best. Living the life he wants to live.

Some final observations from me in regards to Astra, is that he’s paired with Fakemon for God Grade. While it’s probably in part just how things worked out logistically, it also makes a bit of sense as a foil. Fakemon is constantly being disingenuous, while a huge part of Astra’s arc is being true to himself, while also fulfilling other people's expectations of him. Also of note, Entermon is described as a Digimon who exists wherever you can find culture something that is particularly relevant to Astra.

While being biracial is not directly important to the story, it’s not incidental and clearly is thematically related to him being trapped between the traditional and the modern Japan. While in story Astra’s story is simply about outside expectations of inheritance, It’s possible to read Astra prior to the series as trying to overcompensate for his foreign mother in the eyes of the people at his father’s school. This is something I find notable considering that Appmon’s assistant producer, Akari Yanagawa, went on to become the producer of 2019’s Star Twinkle Precure, a season of Precure notable for the franchise's 2nd biracial cure, whose personal arc more obviously alluded to racism than Astra's, though still very indirectly.

#appmon #torajiro asuka #asuka torajiro #musimon #digimon

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imagineaworlds · 3 years

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I Love You (Part Fifty-Nine) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Bondage (ropes and handcuffs). Spanking. Sex toys (dildo and vibrator). Edging. Impregnation kink. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”. Revenge pornography. Non-consented photographed pornography.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 4564

Timeline: Right after part fifty-eight.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

When Sean left, Hotch saw him out, leading him downstairs and hailing a cab on his behalf. I watched from the window all the way up on our floor as Hotch waved goodbye to his brother. And then I raced to the living room. I waited in front of the door, tapping my foot anxiously, watching the doorknob until I saw it twist.

Hotch stepped in, silently closing the door behind him before he even looked up to see me standing there. And then our eyes met. My shoulders fell when I saw how disappointed he looked, and how upset he seemed about the whole situation. I didn’t need anyone to lay the details out for me. Knowing what Sean did, and knowing Hotch, I knew that Sean was now on his way to go turn himself in for illegally selling the alcohol from his old job—including the spiked bottles. For Hotch, the thought along was probably torture. But the fact that he was the reason that his own sibling was going to prison… that was unbearable, I could tell.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” I whispered, carefully approaching him. He slid his palms onto my cheeks. “It’s going to be okay.” I leaned up on my tiptoes to kiss him. When he didn’t kiss back, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Honestly… I just want to forget about it for now and continue where we left off before this whole mess came about. Can we do that?”

“Of course.”

Hotch leaned in this time, kissing me with a desperate and fiery passion compared to my light and gentle kiss prior, and I kissed back. It took a few minutes for us to slide into Dom and sub space. We were stumbling around the house, hands wandering around each other’s bodies, breathless kisses stringing one after the other, moans escaping us every so often as he got hard and I got wet. And then we made it to the bedroom.

I tried to jump up and into his arms, but he held me down, Dom space finally setting in. I watched him, trying to gauge if it was worth being a brat right now or not. I couldn’t tell. Honestly, when Hotch was stressed by outside pressures, he had a tendency to lose his cool and take it out on me—not that I ever minded—but since he has a tendency to Dom drop after intense scenes, I was worried that me acting up would make his temper worse, and while it would be fun for the next few hours, he was ultimately going to crash hard, and I didn’t want to do that to him now.

“Whatever you want,” I whispered to him. “I’m yours.” I looked over his shoulder to see the black box still sitting on the dresser from where we left off earlier. “Black box?” He nodded. “I love you.” I moved to kiss him, but he wrapped his hand around my neck and squeezed until I stopped moving. “Sir,” I quickly added. “I love you, Sir.”

He was still glaring at me slightly as he moved his hand from my neck up to my chin, holding me still so that I had to stare directly into his eyes as he pressed his thumb against my lips. I knew what he wanted. Since Halloween, he had discovered just how much he loved it when I would suck on his thumb because it wasn’t enough for me to know that I was getting him off, but it reminded him of what it felt like to have my mouth around his length. In a way, I supposed, it was some kind of punishment. It was like telling me that I wasn’t worth his cock, and I fucking loved it.

“Down,” he said gruffly, his thumb pushing on the soft patch of my mouth under my tongue. I moved with the pressure, slowly laying down on my back while he towered over me. “Suck.” I closed my lips around him and sucked on his thumb like he asked. “I think…” He hesitated as my tongue maneuvered under his thumb and licked. “I think I need to do more.”

I knew what he meant. We were rough, but there was always an extent with him. He never, ever wanted to hurt me, and I, of course, appreciated that. But I could see how stressed he was. I could tell that he needed to somehow get his anger out about Sean. If he needed to, he could do more with me. He could be different with me. If there was ever a point that I thought he was going too far, I’d stop him. He had to know that. I trusted him wholeheartedly, and I needed him to trust me.

I slowly slid my mouth off his thumb. “I’ll use Colors.”

“I won’t gag you, then.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” I repeated lustfully.

He quickly grabbed the hem of my pants and panties together. With one smooth motion, he pulled them down and off my legs entirely, then threw them somewhere else in the room. I hissed at the feeling.

Hotch flipped me onto my stomach roughly, making sure to lean back in time so that I wouldn’t accidentally kick him. I gasped as he did so, trying to bite back any questions or retorts running through my head. After a moment of watching me get settled, Hotch slapped my ass. I yelped and tried to crawl away somewhat, but Hotch grabbed my thighs to hold me still. With his grip still on my left thigh, he raised his right hand again and smacked me. I yelped again.

“Shut up,” he demanded.

I whimpered before biting down on the sheet. When he knew that I was ready, he switched which hand was grabbing and which one was in the air. I tensed up, waiting for the next smack, but it didn’t come. I shifted around somewhat, trying to get a feel of where he was, and the second my guard was down, he slapped my ass again. And then he did again even harder. My teeth grabbed the sheet harder as I suppressed a moan.

“Good girl.”

Both of his hands were off of me now, hanging somewhere up in the air. I tensed again as I waited, but Hotch was playing a game. He was waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass before I would subconsciously relax, and then he’d ruin it by spanking me again. Just as predicted, both of his hands came down on me when I let out a breath and released my hold on the sheets slightly.

“Fuck!” I cried out.

“Color,” he said after hesitating for a moment.

“Green, Sir.” Of course, it was green. I didn’t hate it. I didn’t want him to stop. If this was “more”, I wanted to know what absolutely losing control was, because this was hardly more. But maybe that was just the difference between me and Hotch.

“Good girl,” he cooed happily. After a moment, while I still expected him to spank me again, but I didn’t tense up to keep playing along with his game, he surprised me when two of his fingers dragged up my slit from my clit to my entrance.

“Sir,” I moaned, falling limp against the bed.

“I told you to be quiet, brat.” He spanked me with a little more force than before. I nearly moaned again, but I held it back by biting on the sheets again. “I don’t want to gag you, baby, but you’ve gotta be quiet for me.” I nodded. “Good girl.” He shifted off the bed and I heard him sifting through the black box. “Blue or purple?” he asked himself quietly. “Blue.”

I whimpered and cringed slightly, trying to pull my body together like that would somehow make me disappear. But it didn’t do anything. Hotch still noticed me, and he was still excited to toy with me. So, when I felt the mattress sink behind me as he crawled back onto the bed, I prepared for the worst.

Hotch grabbed my left ankle and bent it backwards up to my thigh carefully to make sure it wasn’t too painful for me. When I didn’t say anything, he kept going. I felt the sting of rope dig around my ankle and thigh as he expertly tied them together. He asked if that felt alright once I was secured and I couldn’t even wiggle my calf away from my thigh. After I told him it was fine, he moved to do the same thing with the other leg.

I didn’t even realize Hotch was capable of doing a Shibari leg tie— especially one like this. I hadn’t taught him how to do it, that was for sure. Yeah, there had been mentions of it over the course of a few different cases over the years, but that always seemed like Reid and Rossi’s thing. I never thought that Hotch would go out of his way to learn how to do it. This kind of bondage wasn’t at all “vanilla” compared to what he was used to. He liked simply tying me to the bed with knots or using handcuffs if he needed. But Shibari took skill and time. This one wasn’t the most complicated of ties, to be fair, but still. The positioning and the spiraling ropes and knots around my thighs and calves was impressive. That must have been the “more” he had been referencing.

“Color, baby,” he whispered while admiring his work. He leaned down to kiss my shoulder blade and I bit back a moan when I felt his clothed erection press against my core. When I told him that my color was still green, he smirked against my skin and grinded against me, probably leaving a wet spot on his pants. “You’re so wet, baby, and all I’ve done is spank you.” He sat up straight again, and in an instant, he started spanking both of my cheeks again and again as hard as he was willing to go with me. My thighs squirmed and my toes wiggled around, but that was the extent of how far I could move now. “Look at you,” he chuckled. “At my mercy.”

I turned to puddy under him in response. It didn’t matter how hard he was continuously hitting me, his words never failed to make me swoon and submit. Then, when he suddenly leaned down and licked a single strip up my slit, I floundered again. It felt so good, and I was desperate for more of that, but he had already pulled away because he knew that it felt too good.

“You taste so good, baby,” he complimented before lightly spanking me one more time. We both sighed when he stopped, but obviously for different reasons. As he rolled off the bed again, I slumped and tried to catch my breath. “I like watching you squirm. It’s my favorite part when I tie you up. But you know what’s even better— the real cherry on top, if you will.” It was a rhetorical question. “I like watching you fall apart when I don’t give you permission to cum. I like how it becomes almost painful for you to keep edging and holding your orgasms back.” He approached the bed once more. “Hands back.” I did as I was told, stretching my arms behind me, and pressing my wrists together. The freezing metal touch of handcuffs slapped against both of my wrists and he tightened both ends as much as possible. My face fell into the mattress when I felt the tip of a toy press against my clit. I knew that it wasn’t him. I could tell the difference between cold, soft rubber and his warm, hard cock. “It’s the blue one,” he explained.

I only had two different dildos. A purple and a blue one. Before, when Hotch was whispering to himself, I thought he was debating between rope colors, but I soon realized that he was planning ahead for the real torture to come. The purple one was slimmer, but it was more Hotch’s length. The blue one, his favorite, was only a few inches shorter, but it was much thicker. He liked watching it stretch me whenever he’d thrust it in and out of me at an unrelenting pace. He enjoyed watching how the first few seconds of insertion made me tense and cringe as I tried to accommodate the toy. He liked imaging that it was him doing that to me while still enjoying how it tortured me that it wasn’t really him.

“Do you want it?” he asked wickedly. I nodded. “Say it.”

“I want it, Sir. Please, Sir.”

Hotch slowly slid the dildo in, listening to me moan as I was stretched and filled by every inch. The rubber feel was an obvious difference in comparison to Hotch’s dick, but it still felt good regardless. “Don’t push it out,” he ordered once I had all of it inside me. I gulped and nodded. I squeezed my walls around the girth of it, making sure to hold it in place. “Good girl.” And then he pressed a working vibrator to my clit.

“Sir—” I gasped. My fingers stretched out, trying to reach for the toys I clearly wouldn’t be able to move away.

“I want you to beg for more.”

My eyes shot wide as I glanced up at the headboard. “Sir?”

“I won’t gag you; so, I want to hear you beg for what you want, knowing that I won’t give it to you. Maybe then I’ll think about letting you cum.”

“Please—” I immediately stopped when I felt him turn up the speed on the vibrator and hold it steady so that it was pressed directly on my clit. “Please, Sir. Please. Please. Please—”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, slut,” he hissed as he spanked me with his free hand. I tried to hide my face in the mattress again, but Hotch fisted his hand around my hair and pulled me to look up at the headboard. “I told you to beg.”

I took a moment to collect my thoughts while my eyes were screwed shut in response to my hair being pulled and held. “Sir… Please fuck me with the toy. Please make me cum—” My breath sputtered as Hotch released my hair, and grabbed the end of the dildo, then slowly and barely fucked it in and out of me. I fell forwards against the bed. “Just like that, Sir— Fuck! Yes— Please, Sir. Don’t stop. Please make me cum. Please let me cum.”

“So needy,” he hummed happily.

“I’m gonna—”

“No.” He caught me before I could even say it. He stole the vibrator away from me, ensuring that my peak could subside before it could even really build in the first place. I whined and squirmed. “Hold fucking still, whore.” He spanked me again, and I obeyed. He started moving the dildo again, making sure that its pace and strength wasn’t hard enough to wind me up again. “Color.”

“Green, Sir.”

“My good girl…” He slapped my thigh. “Do you want it again?” he asked when the buzzing of the vibrator echoed in the room again.

“Yes, Sir.”

He pressed it to my clit, making me squirm around the dildo. “Hold still or I’ll take it all away.” I whimpered. “I’ll just leave you like this while I cum in you and plug you full.” I whimpered again. “And then I’ll use you whenever I want.” I moaned. “You want me to use you like that, whore?” I moaned. “Speak.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He chuckled to himself. “You’re so predictable.” He lifted the vibrator away from me again. “I can see you tensing around the toy every time you get close. You’ve gotta work on hiding it better.”

“Sir, please, I’ll do anything. Just let me cum. Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.” He pressed it to me again, holding it there until I was at the very edge again, at which point, he took it away again. “How many is that now?” I was too frustrated to answer. “That wasn’t rhetorical, slut.” He spanked me again.

After I jolted and whimpered, I said, “Three, Sir.”

“Aw… Just three? You’ve done more before and you’ve never complained this much.”

“Well, you did leave me hanging earlier after a hard edge—”

He grabbed my hair again. “And I told you I would make it up to you. Am I not doing that now?” Now I was too scared to say anything. “If you’re not careful, I’ll just ruin you, then fuck your mouth so you don’t get anything out of it, then I will plug you full and leave you here. Got it? That isn’t rhetorical, either.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answered as quickly as possible. “I understand, Sir.”

He let go of my hair so that he could start fucking the dildo in and out of me again while pressing the vibrator back against my clit. I let out a defeated moan. I wasn’t going to escape this. Hotch was going to keep torturing me, and I the only choice I had was to accept it.

Another few edges passed, and every time they did, it got harder and harder to hold them back. Hotch wasn’t showing any remorse. But I could feel him getting antsy behind me, with how he was groaning and obviously palming himself while watching me squirm, cry, and scream. He was enjoying watching me suffer. After a bit longer, though, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, just like on Halloween, and he had to have me.

Hotch pulled the dildo out of me and dropped it on the mattress, ignoring the way I whimpered when my walls clenched around nothing. He waited for another edge to approach before pulling the vibrator away. I whined.

“You never shut up,” he hissed, lining himself up with my entrance.

“Fuck, Sir…”

“Shhh… Just take… all of me…” He roughly thrust into me, holding me still my grabbing onto my hips.

“Fuck!”

“You’re so wet, shit—” It was like he couldn’t process any coherent thoughts either, because he stopped talking and just focused on fucking me as fast and hard as he could. “I love you.”

I wiggled my fingers behind my back for a second before I felt him hold my hands with one of his large palms. “Sir… Sir, please—”

He chuckled wickedly, knowing exactly why I was pleading, and he gave me what he wanted. Still fucking me from behind, he somehow managed to get the vibrator right against my clit, immediately tipping me over the edge. He hissed again when I tightened around his cock.

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he growled into my ear. I moaned lightly. “Fuck—” He tightened his grip on my hips as his thrusts sped up and got harder. “Fuck, princess.” Holy shit. I melted at the name that wasn’t at all common for us, and I felt another orgasm already crashing through me without warning because of it. He snapped his hips forward, staying there as he came inside me, making sure that I took every single drop from him. I moaned into the sheets. “Fuck…” He was breathless now. After a second, he slowly slid in and out of me again, making us both whimper because we were so sensitive. “You did so well for me.” He ran his thumbs over the sore spots on my ass. “So well…” He finally slid out of me. “Are you okay?” I nodded. “Words.”

“Yes, Sir. I’m okay.” I collapsed onto the bed again, unable to keep myself up any longer.

Hotch chuckled. “I told you I’d break you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He found the end of the Shibari tie on my left leg and carefully started undoing it, holding my ankle to make sure that the second I had wiggle room I wouldn’t try to stretch and end up hurting myself. I let him kiss his way up from my ankle to my hip bone once the rope was gone from my skin, giving him a chance to slowly and safely stretch out. When my leg was completely extended and relaxed, he moved to the other one. I waited as he did the same thing.

When he was done, I rolled over to watch as he cleaned everything up. He wiped the toys down, putting them back in the black box, along with the ropes and handcuffs. After that, he disappeared to the bathroom. I smiled when he returned with a towel to clean me up since I was too weak right now to go do it myself. I moaned when he passed the towel between my thighs—but it wasn’t a sexual moan. I was just relaxing.

“You still okay?” he asked, tossing the towel to the side and climbing onto the bed with me. I nodded.

“Are you gonna drop?” I asked him worriedly while turning over to hug him. He hugged me back and hummed a “no” while kissing the top of my head. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“You’re not lying?”

Hotch chuckled. “I’m not lying. Are you dropping?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t quite sure yet. It didn’t feel like dropping, but I didn’t feel entirely right either. I was probably just exhausted. I needed some food and some sleep. “I don’t think so. Maybe? I don’t know.”

“Let’s get ahead of it before it happens, then.”

Even though it always helped to be in his arms and to just feel his love, Hotch escaped my hold for a short moment to race to the closet to grab something. I watched the doorway suspiciously. When he came back out, he was wearing grey sweatpants, and he was holding a pair of his checkered blue pajama pants and an old college t-shirt. I smiled while sitting up in bed.

“I found this hiding somewhere the other day,” he told me, handing the clothes over. “I figured you’re probably getting bored of all the other clothes you’ve stolen from me—”

“I didn’t steal them. I’m just borrowing them long term. You can take them back any time you want.”

He shook his head while crashing back onto the bed with me. “Nah. I like that they’re yours now. You know how much I love watching you walk around wearing my stuff.”

“Yeah, because you can’t wait to tear it off of me again.” I pulled the shirt over my head and immediately felt safe and comfortable once it was settled around my body. I smiled and hugged my body.

“Or because I see that look on your face and I fall in love you all over again.”

I looked at him. “What face?”

“The one where you try to suppress a smile, so you close your eyes while deep in thought, and your nose scrunches, and your lips curl up, and then you look so… at peace…”

I rolled over to lay my torso on his, propping my head up on his left peck while staring at him. He brushed his fingers through my hair. “You have a look, too.”

“What is it?”

“You’re wearing it right now.”

He tried to change his expressions, but it didn’t matter because it didn’t do anything. The “look” was when he would fall in love with me again, just as he said he always did. His wrinkles would fade somewhat—but not my favorite smile line on his cheek—and his eyes would soften to the point that they had cartoonish heart reflections in the corners, his eyebrows would pout, and a toothy grin would slowly grow on his face. Every time. I had noticed it every day since we first met. Even when we were just acquaintances at work and he would continuously pass my desk just to see me, I could see that look on his face. Back then, I didn’t know what it meant. When I joined the team, the look faded away altogether because he was trying to hide how he felt about me, but ever since that day when we saved Elle on that train down in Texas, I had noticed that look was back, and I knew exactly what it meant. He loved me. He truly, infinitely, wholeheartedly, no doubt about it… loved me.

“You’re a sap, Agent Hotchner,” he whispered to me.

“I could say the same about you, Agent Hotchner.”

His fingers withdrew from my hair so that he could grab my hand and intertwine his grasp with mine. We smiled at each other. “I love you…” He kissed my knuckles. “Thank you for… Well, for tonight.”

I tugged his hand back to me, kissing his knuckles this time. “You are so very welcome, my love.”

Just as Hotch’s phone started ringing, we both groaned, and he rolled somewhat to answer. “Garcia, please tell me we don’t have another case.”

“No, sir, it’s not that. You remember how you and Section Chief Strauss asked me to keep an eye on that thing that no one else was supposed to know about and I’ve done a really good job so far of not telling anyone, even though more and more stuff keeps happening, and it’s getting really hard to not tell Morgan—”

“Garcia, breathe.”

She sucked in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“What happened?”

“The thing you told me to look into… The Replicator…”

“Who’s The Replicator?” I asked.

Garcia stumbled. “I—Sir, I didn’t know I was on speaker.”

Hotch looked at me. “He’s an Unsub we’ve been tracking. I’ll tell you about it later. Garcia, what happened with him?”

“He, uh, he hacked my system. He… He went to my house, and he… He got everything.”

“How do you know that it was him?”

“He, um…” Garcia hesitated, choking back a sob. “He sent these pictures of you guys… You guys, um… in bed... and he had pictures of Scarlet, Jessica, and Jack when Morgan was with them at the park the other day.”

My heart sank. I didn’t even care about the first part. He had pictures of our babies. He had been watching them like he was watching us. “Aaron—”

“Garcia, send a team to our house, have them brought back to the office again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” She hung up as quickly as she could so that she could reach out to Jessica and Will—just to make sure that he and Henry would be safe, too.

I felt my breath hitch and stay like that, as if I couldn’t breathe at all. My babies. That monster had pictures of my little man and my lil’ bug… No… Anyone but them. They didn’t need to get dragged into our messes like Foyet had dragged Jack into it. But then there were the pictures of us. Garcia said that we were in bed in the photos—I looked out the large window of the bedroom to see all the other windows on the building just across the street from ours. He could have been anywhere.

-----

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