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mulders-too-large-shirt · 2 months

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s3 episode 1 thoughts

wow… how much time has progressed… and to think, a mere two months ago, i barely knew these character’s names, let alone that they will likely stick with me for eternity...

let us begin. as we always must do.

okay, so i’m reading the episode description: scully is facing a possible dismissal!!! i know she broke rules but it was for FRIENDSHIP and LOVE! does that not count for anything anymore?!

(spooky noise) (dried up alien shot) (voice of disembodied narrative) last season on the X files…

(a recap of cig man burning things)

we open back in New Mexico, to Albert describing his relationship to memory and history: “memory is radiant and immutable, while history serves only those who seek to control it” <- banger line.

anyway. we see the smoldering ruins of that train car that was once full of aliens. but not a single mulder in sight…

cig man is breaking into the kind people’s houses!! he and his cronies are conducting violence… THEY HIT ALBERT IN THE HEAD NOOO??? HE IS A HERO... cig man, you are less than a mosquito to me

scully time!!! she’s on the scene… guess she didn’t get far back to DC. “where is he?” she asks, and they look at each other with concern in their eyes. oh, they don’t know...

eric walks into the room with a terribly beaten face... NOOO ERIC, THEY SHOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THIS TO YOU.

now scully is screaming for him on the cliffs whilst the smoke still billows from the train where he was last seen… no response… it is not looking good for our friend mulder!!

she finally tries to go home, and a helicopter is shining on scully. RIGHT on her. this is not good for driving. they run her off the road with no regard for anyone's safety??? could have caused a MASSIVE pileup.

anyway, they grab her and it’s upsetting, asking where the files are and she says in the trunk. do we believe her??? it’s a copy of some of them, but not the DAT, which i would guess means the original cassette tape... oh nooo i’m scared… i mean she couldn’t deny it, but it’s also not looking good for the secrets she was trying to keep. so, without the "DAT", they just leave.

back at the FBI, they are telling her she needs to take a leave of absence. she is looking at the ground and it is once again giving student in the principal’s office. NO PAY OR BENEFITS??? you can't do that... what if she needs to go to the doctor......

i guess she is a doctor but the point stands. you NEED insurance in these parts.

she gives them her badge and gun and says she thinks mulder is dead :( NOOOOO you cannot admit defeat

skinner says “don’t think this hasn’t been difficult for everyone” and she is holding back a very very very biting remark but actually manages to hold it back, so god only knows what she wanted to say. a stronger woman than i.

until she leaves the room, that is!!! skinner comes out to talk to her and OH SHE IS MAD!!

“what about the people who are poisoning agent mulder’s water? whose protocol was that? the men who killed agent mulder, the people who killed his father- they aren’t meant to be found”

“we will find them”

“with all due respect, sir, I think you overestimate your position in the chain of command” <- OHHHH TEA. she basically said, you're a liar working for liars and perpetuating lies. meanwhile WE'RE the only real bitches at the function and one of ‘em’s dead because of YOUR pet cigarette man. SICK!!!!! truly evil.

now she has to find some work to pay the bills skinner!!

(i don't think skinner is evil, i just think he's a dick sometimes and that pisses me off more than sheer evilness. EACH time i think i have him figured out. he does something that proves me wrong)

one last visit to mulder's office before she leaves. she's going to take the real files on the cassette and they are GONE??? to whom have they gone…..

back in new york city. it's a meeting of the minds, all the big names in the world of covering up the existence of aliens. cig man is saying everything is fine, mulder is dead, and all the files are back. ALLEGEDLY!! i believe him on no accounts.

GASP scully going to her mom’s house… she walked there barefoot at night because her shoes hurt her :(

“i’ve made a terrible mistake. dad would be so ashamed of me” NOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T SAY THAT!!!

(i cannot speak to the moral character of her father but if it were me, i would say it was doing the Right thing that counts far more than following corrupt orders from a corrupt system. and this is further proof that she is one of those people who Has to do the right thing or the guilt will consume her... )

and she DID do the right thing!!!! she just doesn't have faith!!!! i'll cry!!!

buzzards back in New Mexico… oh........

HAND SPOTTED!! white man’s hand in the rocks. is it mulder smushed??????

IT IS!! albert and co are hauling him out of a hole, and he’s looking quite dead, but he seems to have hid in a cave with the aliens. good on him for finding a convenient hole to duck into.

they’re doing a ceremony to call the Holy People!!!! i hope it works because remember, the calusari said mulder knows the devil and that seems contradictory...

hopefully they were just lying.

scully back home. sleeping in bed. answering the door, for someone knocks.

it’s FROHIKE???? i cackled. WHY does he know where she lives! and also why is he here when she is in her robe! well. i guess mourning will have you up and about at odd hours.

he drank a whole bottle of what looks like vodka...? and described mulder as “a redwood among mere sprouts” i laughed... it's so genuine. we all know a frohike, for better or for worse.

he assumes that she will be next in line for hunting The Truth, to which she replies, “i’m soon to be out of a job”. but she's a doctor, so it is gonna be okay. maybe she can just leave the last few months off her resume and get letters of recommendation from her professors. doctors, high in demand.

"and like rats, they just scatter back into the woodpile” she says, when discussing how these secretive people pull the strings behind the curtains. i took note because this is a yeehaw-sounding saying.

i guess we don't ever learn where she grew up, because it probably wasn't in one place, with her dad in the navy... but still. such a phrase is giving some sort of appalachia.

frohike brings bad news: the thinker was killed EXECUTION STYLE and found in a landfill... this is soooo fucked up. she is shocked they would do something so stupid and i was like ??? but ohh she's talking about tracing the bullets!

(i only realized this much later. i won't lie)

back in New Mexico, albert is working overtime calling the Holy People to come help, and mulder's floating out in space as he contemplates leaving this plane…

people are surrounding him. perhaps the holy people or his ancestors??

but no, it is... DEEP THROAT??? I’VE MISSED YOU!!! it was nice to see him again, even for a brief moment in the astral plane.

he’s going on, very theatrically, about the absence of time in whatever it is inhabits after life: “i come to you, old friend, with the dull clarity of the dead, not to beckon you, but to feel the fire and intensity that still live in you…. there is truth here, if that is what you seek, but there is no justice or judgement, without which, truth is a vast, dead hallow” <- he has been reading Shakespeare in the afterlife

no i actually loved that line. it goes hard. "the dull clearity of the dead". i'm eating that arrangement of words up

cutscene: aliens being gassed and locked in the railroad car. that’s…. Horrific

(this scene takes mere seconds, and isn't addressed again in any real way in the episode, but holy. it was. unsettling. what did these bastards do to them....?)

back to the commune with the deceased. it's Bill! mr. mulder! he opens his eyes at his dad’s voice. his dad says he’s very sorry for lying about the whole alien thing, and says he is the memory; “if you were to die now, the truth would die, and only the lies survive us”. so no pressure whatsoever. /s

seemingly awake now, he asks if his sister is in the realm with the rest of those who have passed. and he learns she isn't there yet, so i'm pretty sure that makes up his mind, that he'll go back. but imagine if the answer was yes, she was there... do you think he would have still found the strength to return?

back in D.C., scully has to take the visitor’s entrance to the FBI :( but the security guard knows her!!! she is friendly in this way :) she beeps suspiciously... but he lets her though. i suspect that she might be hiding something... but what?

she's waiting for skinner. and ohhh skinner didn’t call her “agent” this time...ohhh the vibes are…….. not really vibing. it is uncomfortable.

she is bringing the news article to him and suggesting cross running the weapon that killed the thinker with the weapon that killed mulder’s dad to get some answers. this seems reasonable to me! he says she has been relieved of investigative duty and basically dismisses her. but she just wants to be helpful!!!! can you blame her??? she just wants to be HELPFUL, skinner, she wants her friend back and not dead. so please DON'T say something catty right now, i SWEAR.

SKINNER. I HATE YOU SOMETIMES. “ohhh the systems would have went off” so there is no need to cross reference the weapons. they’re killing people executioner style!!!! do you really think the people at the police department wouldn’t cover such a thing up?!?!? come ON let's use our heads!!!

he parrots her earlier line about him not having as much power as he thinks... ohhh you bitch. you should both be on the same team here and that team is "please let agent mulder be ALIVE"

he’s all “oh, you just wanna be helpful because you want your job back?” and she very firmly says NO. i just want answers. and honestly, she is handling this way better than i would be. because i would be biting and clawing skinner at this moment. to imply that she just wants her JOB back when she's trying to bring him information regarding a bunch of mysterious deaths, including that of her PARTNER?!?!?

so he says to bring him the cassette tape that she DOESN’T have or otherwise sit tight and let them do their job. and there is unbridled rage in her eyes but it somehow manages to not escape beyond body language and again, applause.

pause. i’m actually so pissed on scully's behalf right now. and i just KNOW filming these scenes had to be fun.

as always in skinner's office, Bill Clinton watches over everything. his eyes are cold and uncaring. like a god who has abandoned its creation.

the MINUTE she leaves his office, cig man enters... SICK!!!! he's asking about the tape that he earlier claimed to the squad in new york that he got back… “that’s unfortunate”, he says, when he learns she doesn't have it. did he PLANT IT ON HER?? is that what the beeping was? do cassettes beep on metal detectors? i had some as a kid, i just remember feelings of plastic when holding them <-op was NOT onto something here

upon leaving, she is confused about the thingy beeping again. “you wearing a necklace or something?”, asks the security man. “no, not today”, and...... OH.... THE VISUAL INDICATOR THAT SHE HAS LOST ALL FAITH IN THE FORM OF HER CROSS NECKLACE BEING ABSENT. AUGHHHH TEARING MY SHIRT. ripping my hair out in grief. but that leaves the real question: what is in there?

she goes to the doctor, who looks at her neck. SOMETHING IS IN HER SKIN??? embedded in there. oh... it’s scarred over and they’re gonna pull it out, and i'm thinking i might gag if they show it, but thankfully they cut then. WHAT DID THEY DO TO HER IN ALIEN LAND????

back to the New Mexico cam!!! mulder progress!! three days of chanting and he is asking for water!! good news.

back to D.C. no extraction scene visible, thank god. COMPUTER CHIP???? IN HER NECK??? did they microchip her... so they can track her location... or is it some sort of coded information... oh this is soooo evil

back talking with melissa!!!! my witchy best friend!!! melissa wants scully to unpack her memories, but can you blame her for NOT wanting to do that?? does reliving alien testing sound fun to you??? but, despite her reservations, she goes to a hypnotherapist anyway because she is a good sister and melissa played the "please? for me?" card

(damn, this show sure has a lot of hypnotherapy. it’s funny because i have never encountered it at all outside of this show. maybe it was the big thing at the time? and they wanted to be cool and trendy?)

but we’re back now, in repressed memory town, circa the Duane Barry era. regarding whoever was conducting the tests on her, she says she couldn’t resist them. hey what does THAT mean!!!

things look close to getting revealed when she says it’s time to go. like i said, i can imagine this is probably top ten worst sensations of all time.

so she drives back home and skinner is there??? HUH???? she looks sooooo gagged. and i was too.

(tell me why. oh god this is awful. tell me why my first reaction was “she must be going back to her mom's place... and he’s dating scully’s mom”) (cue the "i'm going to start dating her HARDER" scene from the office)

back in New Mexico. to end the ceremony, mulder must not do any work, change clothes, or bathe for 4 days. PLEASE DO THIS THING MY FRIEND. the boys give him a pouch for sunflower seeds, which he asked for during the worst of his fevers. the sunflower seeds... that when he heard them as a kid, reminded him he was not the last person in the universe... my sweet babygirl, who is a grown man breaking many many laws... glad to have you back in our world

albert shares that he went to the origin place, so overall, this mission seems to have been a success. so please, mulder, do NOT screw this up!!! sit in a hotel room and eat your seeds in your dirty clothes just do NOT break the rules of the ceremony that just saved your life.

scully calls skinner, asking why he was at her place, and he denies ever being at her apartment. BUT cig man is sitting right in front of him soooo it wouldn't have been a good time to talk anyway...

mulder is monologuing into the abyss, as he has found a way to infiltrate scully’s dreams!! very impressive!!

cutscene to his father’s his funeral. scully is there. because she is fundamentally good. she hasn’t met his mother before, right? i recall thinking earlier their first exchange might not go well, because of the whole sacrificed the “sister” for her in the hostage exchange deal thing...

but it actually goes as well as a first meeting a funeral can go. and without citing her prophetic dreams, scully tells her that she has a strong feeling he will be found. scully engaging in the supernatural...? are her sisters words ringing in her ear? or does she interpret a prophetic message dream as a message from the subconscious. i don't even think she knows.

meanwhile, a suspicious man watches this. he wants to talk to her away from the others. he makes some vague sort of reference to the UN league of alien safeguarding, and he says with confidence that mulder is dead.

AND THEN HE STARTS DESCRIBING HOW SHE WILL BE MURDERED???? okay could we GET any more unsettling. survey is saying no. anyway, she will be murdered with either with an unregistered weapon and people who will be out of the country right after the crime has been committed, or by someone she trusts visiting her house. uh oh… skinner looking sus

she asks why she is worth killing: "you want something they don’t- justice” hmm. many such cases in american history.

this guy claims to be tipping her off because his colleagues are acting “impulsively” and her death would just draw attention to them. i mean they have already killed like, 3 people if you count presumed dead mulder, but maybe one more would really push it over the edge?

mulder’s mom comes home. AND HE’S THERE!!!! in different clothes. 4 days had best have passed. i refuse to contemplate that he violated the terms of the ceremony.

okay, back from the dead, and he is interrogating his mom about his dad. she is not answering any questions- does she truly not remember or is she just deflecting... she wants to know what the deal is, and he grabs a gun and says it has to do with samantha. and leaves ominously. that man sure does want to make a dramatic exit.

missy wants to come over (scully calls her sister missy!), and she says to come over. but then someone immediately calls and hangs up- a universal sign of danger, as scully knows. she tries to call missy back, but she doesn't pick up the phone. so she calls back and she says she’ll go over to missy's place instead. the air is very very tense. something is about to go down. but what?

running to her car. and IT'S SKINNER? he says to get in the car. scully goes in anyway but is very clearly suspicious he’ll kill her. AND SHE PULLS THE GUN ON HIM WHEN THEY GET TO MULDER'S PLACE!

“don’t turn around, or I’ll blow your head off” TEAAA! let out some of that rage i was earlier commenting was so well managed.

“don’t think I won’t do it, you son of a bitch” “no, I believe you” <- LMAOOOO he knows she is NOT messing around. and he does everything she asks of him, even sitting on his hands.

NOOOOO MELISSA GOES TO SCULLY'S PLACE AND KRYCHEK SHOOTS HER????? WHAAAAAAAAAAT???? he looks down and realizes it isn't scully, so he tells his companion that they should just leave. absolutely useless flop of a man. how did he even get into the FBI. maybe they'll just take anyone.

back to mulder's place. skinner claims he has the tape, and that he took it from mulder's desk. then why would he have sent her on the fool's errand of trying to find it? and now they BOTH have guns drawn on each other… as someone approaches the door…. presumably mulder coming home???

OHHHHHH this is the first time i have wanted to drop absolutely EVERYTHING and go straight into the next episode, writeup be damned. AUGHHH. what about melissa!!!!!! please let her make it PLEASE I CAN’T WATCH SCULLY ENDURE THIS!!!! can you imagine if she walks in the door and sees her sister bleeding out... hopefully krychek was too much of a failure to even land a lethal wound.

and honestly, from the moment I laid eyes on Krychek way back in s2, so long ago, i KNEW that he was a fucking rat. like. evil evil evil. idk how they’re gonna try and make me like him again if they decide to keep him on as a recurring character, but i truly do NOT give a fuck about what sort of backstory they come up with for him. i’m choosing anger over healing here.

i’m that guy by the cork board pinning things with string and smoking a cigarette until all the things line up because truly WHAT is going on!!!!

really great episode; the pacing and suspense were fantastic, i feel pumped to start a new season, i have a million questions but in an exciting rather than an overwhelming way, skinner you are once again on thin ice!!!

#melissa you have to live it is not negotioable. i am no longer asking.#krychek you deserve every ounce of suffering you have so far been denied in your life due to your cherubic frat boy looks #may hell unleash upon him like the flooding of the yellow river #we are soooo back baby!!!!!!!!!#juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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firaloveatea · 4 months

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Corazon mets Neon

@sakura-rose12, I kinda took some inspiration from your WIP Comic. I hope you don't mind.

Thirteen years is a long time to go without seeing someone you love. Donquixote Rosinante, Corazon, by some, knew this statement well. Thirteen years ago, he left behind someone precious to him, locked in a treasure chest, while he bled out on the frozen ground. Now standing in Dressrosa with the man who raised him, Rosinante found himself looking at his cherished person, all grown up. Ragged, worn out and wounded from fighting Doflamingo, but alive. He survived that dreaded disease. Their hopes for the Op-Op fruit came true.

With Sengoku’s indirect blessing, turning his back, he raced after the Pirates, racing away from Dressrosa. Corazon called after Trafalgar Law, surprising the younger man by scooping him up and racing down the temporary dock built for the pirates' escape.

A pirate named Bartolomeo hosts most of the pirates, throwing a party over their victory in Dressrosa and creating the Straw Grand Fleet. Law, however, is not fully present in the festivities. His attention is solely on a young woman from the Straw Hat crew, Chaos Neon. Her legs are wrapped in bandages from her thighs to her feet, rendering her unable to walk without assistance. With his gentle touch and caring demeanor, Law takes the lead in this role, tending to her needs with the precision of a doctor and the tenderness of a friend.

A silent observer, Corazon can’t help but notice the profound affection in Law’s eyes when he is with Neon. The soft caresses of her cheek or hair as they converse. Resistance is absent when Neon leans against Law’s shoulder. Corazon discerns that something truly extraordinary has blossomed between the two young souls. It's in the way Law rests his head against hers, closing his eyes and finding solace in their shared presence.

It takes Corazon a few days to find Neon alone; between her crewmates fretting over her, Law also remains vigilant. He finds her leaning against the rail, watching the waves in the early morning sun. Sleeping, hungover pirates from the previous night's partying covered the deck, but she didn’t seem to mind. He carefully walks over, nearly tripping several limbs. A soft humming floats through the air the closer he gets to the young woman.

Corazon clears his throat so as not to startle her. “Chaos Neon?”

Her vibrant red eyes turned to meet his, curiosity lighting them up. Not a trace of fear was present, only a warm smile. “Corazon, it's a pleasure to meet you finally. Law has spoken so much about you.”

This shocks Corazon as he moves closer, sitting on the deck beside her. Law had told someone about him. Neon must have done some heavy work to get Law to open up to her, an impressive feat since it took him nearly six months for Law to open up to him. “I wanted to say thank you for caring about Law. I have been watching the past few days and couldn’t help but notice your bond.”

“Thank you for loving him first, Corazon,” she replies, returning to the sea. “I spent about two years with Law and the Heart Pirates.”

“After your captain punched a Celestial Dragon,” he nods; he knew the story of the Straw Hats disappearing from the world for two years before reemerging in Sabaody.

Neon giggles at the mention of that event: “Yup, Law saved me from getting arrested or warped off to some unknown island by Kuma. Then Silvers Rayleigh asked Law to train me in Haki and anything else he found useful.”

“That explains why he’s been caring for you so much since your injury,” Corazon replies, pulling out a cigarette. “How did you get such extensive wounds to your legs?”

“I fought Doflamingo and pissed him off several times for taking me hostage to use against my friends,” her voice is so casual, with hints of humor in it. “I gave him a tongue lashing he needed to hear.”

The confidence she must possess to stand up to a man like his brother. Corazon thinks about the known abilities the Marines had on this woman; she doesn’t have devil fruit powers. Haki isn’t a perfect armor or tool against someone as psychopathic as Doflamingo, but she did it. “Why?” is all the Corazon manages to say.

“To protect Law,” she admits. “Doflamingo knew that some relationship was between Law and me due to some Punk Hazard events, but I wasn’t scared. I didn’t care because I wouldn’t let him use me against Law, even if it was his biggest fear.” She turns to look at Corazon again. “I would give up my acrobatic abilities, my legs, or anything for Law. I would never regret it.”

“Neon!” Law’s voice calls, interrupting them. “You should be resting.”

The young woman turns, still leaning on the guardrail, “You cleared me for short walks and standing!”

Law marches over with a serious expression, but Neon doesn’t flinch. Instead, she reaches out and tugs on Corazon’s sleeve as if she wants him to see something. “She is using the rail, Law.” Corazon chimes in, trying to help her out to some degree.

“If you push yourself too much, your wounds won’t heal properly,” Law scolds, gently picking her up. “And it is time to change your bandages, maybe even remove them if Mansherry’s abilities sped up the healing process enough.”

“Hold on, don’t you want to introduce me to your father properly!” Neon protests.

Law’s face contorts in confusion, “You want Cora to know?”

“Do you want Corazon to know?” she flips the tables on him so easily.

Corazon smiles, “Law.” The Heart Pirate Captain looks at his father figure. “She’s good for you.”

“She can be like you,” he replies. “And I love her for that.”

Sengoku’s words echo in both men’s minds to go out and seek their happiness. A part of Law’s happiness was already at his side.

Neon leans back so she can look at Corazon from around Law’s shoulder. “Corazon, we should find some time to talk more later! I wanna tell you more about how!”

Corazon chuckles, “And I’ll tell you about Law as a child.”

“I will keep you two apart!” Law shouts, his face and ears bright red, while Neon giggles at his embarrassment.

#original character #one piece oc #one piece original character #one piece #ocs #fanfiction #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar d water law #corazon #Cora is alive AU #donquixote rosinante

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wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

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Wednesday Nights || Part Four

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, time skip, angst, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a bit choppy. I am not a fan of time skips. Four chapters down, one more to go. Thank y'all for reading. Please like, comment, and share!

part one

part two

part three

part five

“Mom!”

You awakened with a jolt, in a cold sweat in your new living quarters. You'd been suffering the same nightmare for 20 years. You had to witness your mother turn and attack your father, turning him. Then, before they could attack and turn you, they were both gunned down.

That was 20 years ago and you still weren’t fully recovered. Your luck finally started to come through these last six months.

You were walking alone in the winter cold. The cold air was stinging on your skin as you traveled down the icy river.

Six people on horses surrounded you and grilled you so badly that you thought they were going to kill you. One of the men on the horses yanked his bandana down over his face and screamed your name so loudly that he startled the horses and a few of the others with him.

“Y/N!” Tommy called as he hopped down from his horse, running over to you. Even though his hair was longer and he'd grown a beard, you recognized Tommy right away.

The blood rushed to your face so quickly that you almost passed out. You thought he was dead. You assumed all three of them were all dead. You peered over Tommy's shoulder at the other riders as he drew you into a crushing hug. You didn't see Joel. Was Joel still alive? Was he even here with Tommy?

You rode back with Tommy on his horse, relieved to be off your feet. You'd been walking for weeks. You were in the dining hall eating with Tommy and his new wife, Maria. She was gorgeous and a little intimidating, but she made small talk.

You couldn’t help but notice her body language and the way her lips would thin into a straight line and shoulders would tense at any mention of Joel. Tommy let you know as soon as possible that Sarah didn’t make it. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, but managed to keep it together. Before today, you already assumed she died.

“It’s not like your brother is the best at making decisions,” Maria mumbled, fighting back an eye roll.

Tommy was sharing with you some of the things he and Joel had to do in order to survive. You’d done similar things and a few worse things. You weren’t one to judge and you weren’t going to judge Tommy and Joel. They were the only family you had left.

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, no longer able to ignore the jabs Maria kept taking at Joel.

And the fact that Tommy just sat there and let her insult his brother really pissed you off. Not so much Tommy, but Maria's uppity demeanor got under your skin. Who the hell did she think she was? Good for her if she never had to stoop so low to survive in this shitty post-apocalyptic world. Good for fuckin' her, you thought.

Tommy leaned forward and whispered something into his wife's ear. She cringed and glanced at you before apologizing. Tommy opted to change the subject and asked you what happened to you on breakout day.

“My parents turned right in front of me. Before I could even comprehend what was happenin’ to ‘em they were shot dead.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was awful. Your parents were taken from you too fast. It was unfair.

“Then I hauled ass across Austin to try and get to you, Joel and Sarah. None of you were answering your phones so I figured it must have been happening around y’all too.”

You had a severe panic attack once you realized that you were well and truly on your own. You were lost. You didn’t know what to do without any of them. How were you supposed to survive in a world when your favorite five people no longer existed?

“Eventually I ended up working with a small group of nine people to help find a cure for whatever this was. I worked with doctors, nurses, scientists on this. We were desperate to find a cure. Tommy, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but we’ve exhausted every single possibility and nothing. There is no cure for this.”

“Wow.” Tommy said, sighing deeply at your newfound news. He had held out hope that there was a cure, but he wasn’t shocked that there wasn’t one.

Enough about you. Tommy told you that Joel was alive and I just missed him by a few weeks.

“Where is Joel?”

“Ellie—the young girl he’s with is immune. Joel took her to a hospital — a firefly post so that they could use Ellie’s blood to make a cure.” Tommy explained cooly.

“What?” You uttered lowly. You had your fair share of run-ins with the fireflies. Enough for a lifetime, and each instance damn near cost you your life. You had the awful pleasure of meeting their leader, Marlene. She had an impressive right hook, but your left was a lot meaner.

The nine people you'd been traveling with for the past 20 years were all dead. The majority were killed by clickers, while the others were killed by firefly bombs. You were furious and alone. On a mission to find Marlene, the leader of the fireflies.

You were determined to kill her where she stood. You'd had a few run-ins with Marlene, and they always ended bloody.

You didn't belong to FEDRA or the Fireflies. You were part of a small group of surgeons, biologists, nurses, and medical researchers. You were the only immunologist on the team. Shortly after the outbreak, all nine of you got together to try to find a cure. You clung to them after you assumed Joel, Sarah, and Tommy were no longer alive.

After your parents were killed, you attempted to drive across town to Joel's house, but the highway was already shut down. You'd also overheard from an officer that Joel's neighborhood was a hot zone full of infected people. You were devastated. You had no family left within a matter of hours.

You last saw her and her band of fireflies in Atlanta about a year ago. She ordered her men to blow up a couple buildings where you and the rest of your group were hiding from FEDRA. You barely escaped with your life. Everyone else who was with you died. Blown to smithereens.

“There is no fuckin’ cure, Tommy.”

“But Joel said—“

“—Well whoever told Joel and Ellie that is a goddamn liar. They’re gonna kill that poor girl and it’ll have been for nothin’.”

Tommy chewed on his lip, pondering your information. He was probably even more worried about his brother now. As he should be. Joel wasn’t safe with the fireflies. No one was.

“Is there any way to contact them?” You asked, still hopeful.

“They’ve been gone for a month, Y/N,” Tommy admitted, hesitancy heavy in his voice, “Joel said they’d come back once they were finished.”

“Hopefully Joel realizes that Ellie will die and they’ll come back.” Maria reasoned, shooting you a small smile.

“This isn’t good.” You exhaled sharply.

Anyway, that was five months ago. You were still with them in Jackson. It was a safe community that actually thrived plus you weren’t going to give up the opportunity to see Joel again.

You were with Tommy in Jackson for almost six months now and still no word from Joel or his whereabouts.

You were starting to get discouraged.

You didn’t know it, but off in the far distance, Joel and Ellie were making their way back to Jackson.

You just needed to hold on just a little while longer.

96 notes · View notes

koushisatori · 3 years

Text

if you can't believe in others, at least believe in us

kyoutani x gn!reader

genre: as ordered: a bit of angst w a touch of comfort

warnings: one (1) big jealous idiot, miscommunication

word count: 5.4k

note: this is smth an anon asked me to do (but like...nearly a year ago, I'm not sure if anon is still there or if they remember and my dumbass deleted the ask so I just beta-ed through whatever I had but I know they called me out on enjoying jealous characters so here we go) I'm sorry, mysterious anon, I'm stupid </3 Anyway, that's that. I don't remember if reader was supposed to be female or not so I made it gn!reader (but if I forgot to change something, pls tell me so I can fix any errors c: It's also my first attempt I apologize in advance)

In the beginning, you weren't sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you

You can't remember doing something that would annoy him, nor do you remember an instant of anger in his eyes that would give you a hint about his reasoning to stay away from you

He explained early on that sometimes he just needs a day of distance because Kentarou could feel the anger simmering right under the surface, enough that something small could tick him off already, and he would hate if you were on the receiving end of this unexplained fury

Both of you also made sure to promise each other to clearly communicate, the relationship between the two of you would not last long if you're not properly telling each other what might be bothering or hurting...just in general cross a boundary

Communication probably was one of the most important aspects of your relationship

cue to the actual situation: your boyfriend avoiding you

So, Monday evening you think maybe it's this overwhelming sensation of unexplained anger and that something at morning practice ticked him off completely

But then Tuesday comes and goes, and your boyfriend had avoided you all day long, did not even bother to read your messages,

on Wednesday, you try to talk to him, but all he does is glaring at you with a look that leaves you speechless and kind of heartbroken,

Thursday is the day you're replaying everything you did on Monday, trying to find something that he could have misunderstood, yet no matter how hard you think about it…your brain won't come up with a reason that explained why Kentarou was so upset with you!

So you decide to make him talk to you on Friday

Enough is enough, right? For gods' sake, he is your boyfriend! You miss him and his strong arms that give hugs so warm that you melt right into them

You don't get a second alone with him until school ends

you practically sprint out of the school building over to the gym, knowing that he had a free hour, which means that he is probably the first person there - your only chance

There he is, sitting with his back to you, aggressively chewing on a bun filled with chicken - his usual that reminded him of his favorite dish - glaring holes into the ground

After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you carefully aks: ''Kentaro…Ken…?'', slowly stretching out your hand, wanting to rest it on his shoulder to maybe help to soothe him a bit

he flinches instead and his heated, agitated gaze meets your eyes, making you recoil in return

''…will you talk to me, I miss you…'' you say softly, realizing how it hurt being ignored by him

''Ah, suddenly you miss me…'' he spits, narrowing his eyes ''…didn't fucking seem like it the last time I saw you…''

''Kentaro, baby, I have no idea what you mean,'' you plead, keeping your voice low to hide the desperation lacing it, confusion written all over your features

all Kyoutani does is growl, hopping down from where he's sitting while shouldering his gym bag

''...shouldn't have been so flirty with Shittykawa like that then-'' he grumbles - ''Ken, I didn't-'' you insist, but he continues ''twirling your hair, batting your pretty eyelashes at him, fuck you Y/N, if you want him, then feel free to take a fucking leave" Kyoutani cusses, not even listening to you

You shake your head, ''Kentaro, no, you totally misunderstood the situation,'' you follow up, panic seeping into your voice now that you knew what he referred to, ''I love yo-''

''Tsk'', he moves to leave

you try to take his hand but, instead of turning around, Kyoutani just rips it away from you, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket

from behind you, you hear Yahaba and Oikawa approaching (talking about Volleyball and Captains duties)

once they guessed what must have happened, they offered you their help (they both swear that Kyoutani will never ever find a ''cute s/o as you are, y/n-chan, I'm worried for my little angry pomeranian kohai'' )

Usually, you would try to talk to him, but after enduring a week of radio silence and now this treatment, you were tired of upholding something that seemed like a lost cause

you just wave both setters off and leave the school grounds, a frown plastered onto your lips and tears swimming in your eyes

Kentarou had not listened to you, did not even really look at you, and the few seconds he did, his eyes were filled with rage instead of the warmth he had usually reserved for you (and only for you)

If your boyfriend thinks avoiding you for a week and blaming you for something ridiculous without hearing you out is how you handle a relationship…maybe you would have to consider not pursuing it any longer

Which is easier said than done

The whole night you wait for a message, anything, and then all Saturday morning

you still had hope left

You get one from Yahaba, who tells you that Oikawa tried to clear up the situation as well after the reason for your fight dawned on him (Kyoutanis piss poor mood and behavior towards him a strong indicator) but Kentaro, again, just ran off

The future team captain even called you after your lackluster answer, listening to you getting the frustration and sadness out of your system

It didn't matter, right? Your boyfriend decided to unofficially call it quits by implying that your feelings for him were not genuine instead of using his mouth to talk to you and disregarding everyone involved

as if he wanted to ignore the truth as a convenient excuse to get out of your relationship

that's the conclusion your brain came up with

You softly sniffle in the privacy of your room, clutching a pillow to your chest (which has seen more tears in the last two days than in the past three years), deciding that it would be a good idea to go into the city to treat yourself

knowing that your mother has a hair-dresser appointment somewhen today, you go and announce that you would join her to finally buy the latest season of your favorite series

once there, you additionally get microwave popcorn, chocolate, and ice cream, as well as a pretty shirt you saw on a mannequin while window shopping

you feel a lot better after spending some money and ignoring the lingering sadness of your presumable break up with Kyoutani (who you love ok, it is not that easy)

In between your stops, you meet Iwaizumi and Oikawa munching on fatty burgers (celebrating your cheat days like a holiday and indulging in whatever your heart desires, is what makes it easier to stick with healthier habits the rest of the time was the questionable explanation coming from the brown-haired setter, pointing at you with a soggy potato fry)

after a moment, the setters eyes turn sad, a frown replacing the smile on his lips

he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you from going just yet, apologizing for being the cause of your fight and for being unable to talk some sense into him

(you assure him that it is not his fault, knowing that your friend will probably brood over it otherwise, which wouldn't be fair)

Iwaizumi adds that Kyoutani will come around and that his cooldown time is just longer than those of other people (and if not, he will give him one of his famous volleyballs to the head and use his status as only truly respected senpai to talk some sense into him) but you again decline their suggestions

after saying goodbye (and seeing Iwaizumi give his best friend an assuring gentle pat on his shoulder, the secret softy in the usual harsh ace shining through)

If Kentaro was willing...able to throw away your relationship this easily, he can't possibly really love you, and you'd accept this even if it's hard and painful

Now remembered of what you had attempted to forget about, you feel your eyes sting with unshed tears (you thought there was no possibility of you having more tears to spill, yet the impossible seemed to be the case) you look down at your phone to text your mom and frown

Kentaro 🥰: we need to talk. Kentaro 🥰: meet me there [location]

For a second, you hesitate, biting your lower lip harshly…you really want to go and talk to him but…

The tears still sting in your eyes and blurring your view reminded you of what you had gone through the whole time, and that it was his turn to finally come to you

break up or makeup, the ball was in his court now

so while walking to where your mother would be waiting for you, you begin to type

You: No.

You: I waited for you all week, even though you ignored me, and now you expect me to run the moment you choose to stop being a childish idiot?

You: if you decide to speak to me then comqjdkn

Kentarou wouldn't say he feels particularly bad. Not at all! If someone was to ask him, he would probably answer fucking peachy, what the fuck are you asking for or growl angrily. No one would bat an eye and further question him, nor guess that maybe he wasn't as great as he pretended because he missed his gorgeous better half, but…it was his fault, wasn't it?

Of course, he originally thought he had a valid reason to be upset. And if he had just spoken to you about it, everything would be solved now. Instead of being a decent boyfriend, though, his pride overtook his thinking processes once he realized that his behavior wasn't even the slightest bit justified. Not that he knew this when he saw you speaking with Shittykawa right before school. All he could see was his gorgeous s/o shyly fiddling with her fingers, conversing with a leaned forward, very involved Oikawa Tooru. He would have fetched you away from the brown-haired setter. He had no qualms about showing his possessiveness. God, Kentarou wouldn't have hesitated to growl at the tall, brown-haired boy if not for the question he heard coming from the Captain.

''Y/N-chan, how is it that you, an adorable, charming individuum, is with a brute like Mad Dog-chan? I really-'' Well, that's where he decided to leave you with the setter. He didn't need to hear your answer. Didn't want to witness an excuse or maybe the truth. If both of you were so fucking smitten with each other to flirt this blatantly, why don't you just go and cheer for him, hold his hand, and kiss his cheek goodbye? It was his choice to distance himself.

Kyoutani couldn't help the feeling of betrayal and hurt washing over him. Maybe you just used him as a stepping stone to get closer with Oikawa, and Kyoutani has been too blind to see it. He never doubted you or your relationship before, but it's not a secret how eruptive Kyoutani could be. It has always been beyond his imagination how someone so cute and sweet like you could love a person like him. Your friends thought so. The teachers. The whole school! Everyone questioned your poor judgment. And when you came running up to him, you're cheery voice calling out for him, everyone present looked at you like you grew a second head. It's the reason why seeing you with Trashykawa ticked him off so bad. It catered to his biggest insecurities and fears. He knew that all those skeptics would be delighted to see you, everyone's darling, with the schools' star setter. They all would agree that the pretty, handsome young man is a better fit than the always hostile-looking troublemaker.

While Kyoutani didn't take Oikawa seriously in most cases, he undoubtedly was one of the most devoted people Kentarou had ever met. If Oikawa wanted to get a new serve right, he wouldn't stop trying and repeating it until his legs gave in, and Iwaizumi dragged him out of the gym. When he wanted to find more advanced players to practice with, so he could, in return, give this new knowledge to his team, there was no way he would not manage to make it happen. Even if his ideas, wishes, and plans cost him blood, sweat, and tears (like getting Kyoutani to actually train), Oikawa never backed down. Kentarou had heard that Oikawa's last girlfriend dumped him because of his passion for Volleyball. Yet Kyoutani couldn't help but think that, in you, the ambitious setter would have found someone that would be able to handle it. You usually came over to watch the team when you knew that Kyoutani was there to play. You sat on the stands with your homework in your lap and a Seijoh-coloured pencil wiggling between your fingers, not bothered by the noises coming from the court. You play with your earlobe while you frown at whatever problem you came across. You patiently wait for practice to finish. Kentarou was sure that you'd be someone Oikawa would actually try for. You weren't one of his squealing fangirls, hanging from his arm on every opportunity, but his friend. You didn't pester him to take selfies with you while pushing cute bentos into his hands. When you bring food to practice, then it's for the whole team to share. If he wanted you, Oikawa would probably have to win you over and make sure that you'd stay. Courting and all that jazz. In all seriousness, Shittykawa would be a fucking idiot if not.

The dyed-blond wing spiker had been so sure that he was rightfully mad that he didn't stop to think twice before he reacted this coldly towards you. But, and this made it even worse, Kentarou knew that he was wrong the moment you asked what happened after an entire week of enduring his silent treatment. The second he heard your shaky voice and saw the tears welling up in your eyes, his brain rebooted, and suddenly he wasn't so sure of his own reasoning. You two were together for about half a year. Kyoutani - by now - was confident in his ability to identify most of your expressions. All he could decipher in your eyes was pain, paired with a need to understand, but…if he was in the wrong…it would mean that he had hurt you the whole week, which in conclusion implied that Kentarou had been the world's shittiest boyfriend. Fuck, he thought, I don't deserve y/n.

His situation didn't get any better the moment Oikawa entered the gym. The person Kyoutani thought he had a real reason to despise now tried to mend the rift between the two of you.

''Mad Dog-chan, I think you misunderstood something there. Well, no, you decided to not listen-'' The taller male says, hands gesturing wildly. While his voice still had that annoyingly cheery tone, it had something commanding hidden underneath. And oh, how Kentarou hated when someone demanded something of him, even if it was for his own good. ''Don't want to hear it.'' the blond mutters, already aggravated. The brown-haired setter resolutely puts himself in the way again. ''Oh, but you have to! That morning, Y/N-chan literally declared her love for yo-'' - ''I don't fucking care.'' Kentarou barks, not looking Oikawa in the eyes.

After another fruitless attempt to get properly into the gym, he growls and turns to leave. Already on his way to grab his stuff and take a leave, he hears Oikawa yelling. ''You answered and justified why I asked Y/N-chan to begin with!" And then louder, even though he could make out Iwaizumi trying to wrestle his childhood friend back into the gym, "APOLOGIZE, YOU IDIOT! YOU BETTER GROVEL FOR Y/N'S FORGIVENESS! THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS SHOW YOU'RE PUTTING ON, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

This happened on Friday evening, and the guilt was gnawing away on him ever since. On his way home, Kyoutani had automatically taken the detour to your house. Kentarou enjoyed bringing you home (and more often than not, you pulled him inside with you, making him cuddle you!). It makes him feel like a good boyfriend, and he knew that you arrived there safely. He would never tell anybody and deny it if you ever decided to share this, but Kentarou relished in the feeling of your hand holding his all the way while going on about your day. He admired that you'd pet every cat and every dog you meet on the trip home together with him. You were perfect for him…why again did he act like this?

What caused Kyoutani's attempt to apologize - in his usual overly blunt and partly aggressive kind of way - was Yahaba, though. Both boys denied being remotely something beyond 'not really enemies'. But his future team captain was definitely one of the very few people that could and would tell him to his face that he fucked up without real repercussions. He would presumably even help Kyoutani to get it together.

After Yahaba had called you and listened to your heartbreaking rant, the setter realized that you, his friend, and his 'not really enemy' needed to talk ut out. Totally immersed in your tirade, you accidentally let slip that you couldn't endure Kyoutani's treatment any longer. That being pushed over by your boyfriend with brash and hurtful words after handling the cold shoulder was too much. That you expected Kyoutani to break up with you on Monday either way. In-person, if he had mercy on you or continue his treatment as a silent method of doing so. While you told Yahaba about your planned ''get over it-self-care'' weekend (involving tons of ice cream, movies with crying guarantee, lots of blankets, and no smartphone), the setter had already put on his jacket, shooting a message to Kyoutani.

From Yahaba: get your stupid fucking ass outside to meet me, or I'll bench you the complete season next year

Even though the wing spiker was sure that Yahaba's words were nothing but empty words, Kentarou allowed himself to accept this threat as an excuse to put his pride aside. Because, even though Yahaba annoyed him to no end - not as bad as Oikawa but still - Kentarou was also aware that you and he were friends. If someone could help him gaining your forgiveness, Kyoutani had to accept and admit that it was Yahaba. Meeting his light brown-haired teammate was kind of awkward. Kyoutani was unsure what he had to expect, though he should have seen the rough treatment coming. Yet, getting told that you, the person Kentarou was undeniably in love with, felt so neglected and hurt that you deemed this relationship to be as good as over allowed the guilt monster in his chest to grow. Shitty Oikawa was probably right ordering him to grovel and beg on his knees for you to even hear him out.

Your answer to his message was partly unlike you. Well, the last sentence. You usually were pretty forward with him to avoid miscommunication and uncalled-for moping around. And while you sometimes send keyboard smashes to express the chaos you felt, they were always in a separate message and not so…random. The text definitely meant something like ''then come to me'' but somehow, Kyoutani had an uneasy feeling about the whole thing.

Besides, he couldn't just wait till Monday and hope that you'd accept his apology! You may send him away today already, but he still had a teeny-tiny bit of hope. If he let the thoughts of him leaving you or the other way around fester in your mind for two whole days, though,…you'd probably realize that leaving him wasn't that bad of a decision. You'd come to the conclusion that all your admirers could treat you better than Kyoutani did. And he was too selfish to let you leave. Even though all he did the whole week was being self-centered and stuck up, he would be damned to begin being a saint now and let you go. That you at least were willing to talk to him was…a relief, to say the least. Kentarou hoped that this translated to you being willing to put up with him a little longer if he apologized correctly. That you're not opposed to giving him another chance to make things right.

At your house, he was greeted with darkness. Not even a single light illuminating any of the rooms he could see from his spot on your front lawn. And the ones he saw were your and your mom's most-used rooms. Your room window, your mothers' workroom, and the living room area with an adjacent kitchen. All of those rather significant rooms and the lack of light in them seemed to be a dead giveaway for Kyoutani that no one was home. Kyoutani guessed that you were probably out with your mom, glancing over to the empty spot in front of the garage.

Oh god, your mother had been the only supportive person of your relationship. Maybe it's in your family to see the best in everyone, even in shitty people like him. But if you told her about his behavior, she'd most likely not welcome him with a smile ever again, no matter if you forgave him.

There weren't many things Kyoutani could do in this situation, but it wasn't as late as nature let it on, and after a few seconds, he had decided to sit down at the front door and wait for you, hoping that it wouldn't take too long for you to come home. As if fate wanted to tell him something, the wing spiker had put on the jacket with the half-full power bank. He had worn it to the shelter when he visited it this week while distracting himself from your absence in his daily life. You had gifted him the piece of clothing, which is probably why he unconsciously had decided to wear it to everything he did after school in the first place.

Kentarou passed the time by snarling at people eyeing him for a moment too long to not be judgmental, petting the neighbors' cat wandering over to him, and watching videos. Every time he thought ''Y/N would like this'', his heart stuttered guilty.

To Kentarou, it felt like an eternity until your mother's car finally drove up the entry. To avoid your mother's potentially deadly stare, he nervously checked his mobile, realizing that he had waited for a little more than 3 hours. Yet, the wait had done nothing to soothe his nerves. They instantly spiked up again while his heart threatened to jump out of his throat.

She will hate me. Your mother would hate me, she'll hate me, she'll ha-

''Ah, Ken-chan! Good evening.'' Your mother greets him with a tired, yet still gentle smile. Oh. The blond blanches. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed the treatment he received from your mother more than he should. Being spoken to without suspicion and receiving a warm smile every time without fail was a welcome change to his daily life. Your mother didn't listen to people trying to bad-mouth him. To her, he simply was the boy that - normally - treats her child the way a mother wished for. Even if he pulled a face as long as a fiddle.

''I didn't know you were coming, Ken-chan, or I would have messaged you…but now that you're here, maybe you can assist us out and help Y/N inside? It would help a lot.'' His gaze immediately flitted over to you on the passenger seat. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and that stubborn but endearingly cute pout on your lips, he nearly missed the tiredness your body emitted. Kentarou wanted to rush over to your side immediately but was stopped by your mother again. ''I don't know what you two are fighting about…but please talk to each other. I don't want my baby to be this sad. Especially now, and…'' she rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes kind and comforting ''…I also don't want to miss you here, alright?'' He stiffly nodded and watched your mother carrying in plastic bags filled with various medicine packages and food.

After coming back to his senses, Kyoutani finally stumbled over to your side, practically ripping open the car door. This new perspective revealed a plaster cast wrapping your whole left leg and a removable wrist brace on your right hand. ''Bab- Y/N…what the fuck…happened?'' His honey-brown eyes continued to wander over your injuries, and with every second, he found more. Scratches and scrapes, bandaids and bandages peeking out from underneath your clothes. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered, hanging his head low.

All your intentions to fight his helping hand and limp over to the door by yourself disintegrated into nothing. You never witnessed such a devastated, beaten expression on his face before. Instead, you settle for ''Will you help me?''. A question asked quietly to your fingers picking at a loose band-aid edge on your arm and pressing it back onto the irritated skin.

After you loosened your seatbelt, he waits for you to carefully place your arms around his neck. It is followed by Kyoutani lifting you out of the car so gently as if he was afraid you might break. This whole situation in itself already contradicting his brash appearance and usual behavior. It would give whiplash to all the people pretending to know him. But he was always caring in his own way when it came to you. It's why you loved him after all. Because you usually knew that he loved you, too.

For a few moments, the atmosphere between the two of you felt awkwardly tense, both of you unsure how to interact with each other. The mostly blonde wing spiker breathed out a sigh of relief when you fully leaned into his chest once he stood upright, resting your head against his shoulder. A bit of maneuvering through the front door eventually lead to Kyoutani passing through the hallway and taking you to your room, where he was gently lowering you down on the bed.

It was a now or never kind of situation. For the both of you. While Kentarou was trying to find out where to begin his apology, he took a few steps back in case you wanted space until everything was cleared up.

You unconsciously helped him making a decision by impulsively grasping onto his shirt the moment he started to withdraw, stopping him in his retreating movement. Kentarou saw your lower lips wobbling, teary eyes looking up at him pleadingly.

''Please stay,'' you say weakly, which is enough for him to throw the whole thinking process away and simply sit down next to you, intertwining both your hands. ''I'm staying. I'm not leaving. Not now nor this relationship if you still want...an ''us''. The wing spiker took a deep, shuttering breath. '' I'm sorry, Y/N…'' he finally manages to say, honey eyes locked onto your linked your hands. ''I have been fucking stupid all week. 've been a fucking terrible boyfriend, the worst to ever exist.''

As if to encourage him...to show your boyfriend that his apology was not for nothing, you shuffled around until the last bit of distance between the two of you was closed. You hum, acknowledging his words while leaning your head on his shoulder.

''I didn't think you're cheating or something, …'' Kyoutani immediately assures you. There was no way he would allow you to think that he would accuse you of something like this. ''I had no reason to be jealous, but I was insecure. Let it get the best of me. Despite our promise to communicate, I was sulking. 't was easier. I'll do whatever the fuck you want for you to not give up yet…'' he says, taking his time with every sentence.

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. ''It will probably take a lot of cuddling and attention from you...'' you say thoughtfully ''...but I forgive you…if you promise to not do this again…'' you murmur, tilting your head upward to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. ''Otherwise, I'll accept Iwaizumi-san's offer to get your thinking process restarted.'' For a moment, your voice had its usual joking edge. But you knew talking out everything was necessary. ''But, in all honesty, 'Tarou....please, never do this again. I am honest. I will not endure this a second time. When you tell me that you need a day or two for yourself then that is totally fine. If you feel yourself giving into whatever insecurity, talk to me about it. I am sure there will be an explanation or a solution but don't leave me in the dark. Don't treat me like that. I love you. Only you and no one else. But the time love can withstand straight-up ignorance by your partner is limited.''

Slowly, your boyfriend nodded, squeezing your hand to tell you that he understood. You would probably cling to him for a while but were sure that he would survive the extra closeness. Not even half a second later, his head leans onto yours cautiously.

''…and try being nicer to Oikawa-san, Tarou, he hasn't done anything to you.'' You add humorously before small giggles started to erupt from your lips. ''Also...Baby…'' you start, being interrupted by choked-up hiccups and giggles. By using your nickname for him, you take away another persistent fear of his. What he does not miss, however, is how you wince in pain before you continue, ''…who helped you put this into words? I mean…I loved it, but…,'' You leave unsaid that words usually are not his strong fort.

Biting back a smile, he frowns, huffs, and puffs…, but the way you are looking up at him, eyes shining with relief and adoration, allows him to admit defeat. He sighs ''…it's how Yahaba said I should say it…'' It usually would be an odd enough statement to make you throw yourself all over him with laugher. As a slight replacement, you squeeze his hand a bit, still shaking with suppressed laughter. ''I promise…that I will talk to you. Can't promise the Shittykawa part.'' Another soft chuckle leaves your lips before you look up at him again. ''I hope you try nonetheless. You should not let Iwaizumi-san hear you calling Oikawa-san that, though, I don't think this would turn out well for you…so...maybe stop this at least.'' Kentarou rolls his eyes at you, but in the end, he nods.

You wait for another second to clearly distinguish the two topics before you continue. ''…Thank you…for coming and finally speaking with me instead of break-'' A hand on your lips muffles your words.

''Don't say these words. I'd never break up with you,'' Kentarou grumbles, a light, uncharacteristic light pink settling on his cheeks. You stick your tongue out, which leads to him taking his hand off of your face with a surprised noise, rather dumbfounded that you had licked his hand. It gives you the chance to lean up and finally press your lips against his. ''I'm not leaving you either,'' you murmur, feeling his lips twitch upwards slightly. You decide to leave the teasing for another day.

Moving back into your previous position was enough of a hassle to hiss in pain. It brought back Kyoutani's awareness of the second problem at hand. ''What did happen to you?'' Kyoutani asks in an attempt to tamper down the excited, happy beating of his heart.

''Oh, this...uh, when I answered your text, I got driven over by a dude on a bicycle,'' you casually drop. It was kind of entertaining to watch his expressions change at an unequaled pace while processing your words. In the end, it settled into something akin to passive-aggressive worry. The way he was immediately fretting over you while cursing and cussing out the bicycle dude was his own way of caring. As you watch him retrieving the food your mother bought, while mumbling about how you're a dumbass for not paying attention to your surroundings, how he'd come over every day until you could go to school again to bring and teach you the stuff you would miss and how he would fucking murder the bicycle idiot if he ever finds out who dared to drive you over, you can't help the smile forming on your lips.

Once again, you are proven that loving him - while occasionally troublesome and demanding - was everything but wrong.

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kyoutani x reader #kyoutani x y/n #kyoutani x you #seijoh x reader #aoba josai x reader #mad dog x reader #eeeeh i hope I didn't forget anything #tw jealousy #cw jealousy #????#y/n lowly humming the you kinda smell like a baka sound and he just </3 #deserved though

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

Text

steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @therealvalkyrie for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw: voyeurism #not/sfw #bakugou birthday bash

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saabbi · 3 years

Text

Regret part 10

Moonlit conversation

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: -

word count:~1.3k

notes: happy mid autumn festival! This chapter is purely about Childe and Tsarista.

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The Tsarista is hard to understand.

“Your highness?” the gingered male peeked into the dimly lit room carefully, making sure he's not disturbing his archon.

Deep blue eyes searched the room until they landed on a lonely figure by the window sill, silently gazing at the Snezhnaya waters.

The Tsarista looks back a bit, gesturing to him to come closer.

Childe obliges. He came to find her to have a talk, even if he has yet to figure out what to say. The Tsarista has been rather fickle lately, it seemed like she was making rash decisions.

Even though he knows the Tsarista always have everything planned out. The reasons behind her actions were surely ones a mortal like him couldn’t understand.

The Tsarista is hard to understand.

Not even her closest subordinates - harbingers, could see through her. All her thoughts are masked with the iconic smile, one not sinister nor genuine.

It’s just one without any emotions, an eerie and intimidating smile.

To say the least, the Tsarista is someone incredibly… calculating. Each step she takes, each word she utters, are all through careful consideration.

Fickle and unpredictable. No one could guess her next movement. She slips away like ice.

Which is why, small talk coming from her is completely uncalled for.

“The pier was lively today.” Her quiet and breathless voice caught Childe off guard, shoulders flinching at the unexpected voice.

Has the sun risen from the west? Has the snow melted in Snezhnaya?

Childe carefully observed the divine being, perturbed by her unusual behaviour.

Silky hair pale as snow, cold as ice. A sharp and glacy gaze that sends even the most arrogant humans shivering. Contrasting to her bitter cold appearance, a burning desire could be felt within her glacy pupils. A being said to be so ethereal that just one glance would captivate all men and women across Teyvat-

Except something was a bit different from usual. Childe rubbed his eyes to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

Is she…frowing? Could it even be considered a frown?

Very slightly, almost goes unnoticeable, was her furrowed brows and tired eyes that observed the pier.

Her usual smile remains, but less… stoic?

Not one necessarily of affection nor gentle, but rather… relieved?

The Tsarista mostly appear to be disinterested in a lot of things, usually displaying an indifferent attitude.

Yet somehow she feels expressive today.

As if her cold facade had faded just for a bit, walls thinned down just a little.

He feels it’d be okay to ask her.

“Your highness…” cautiously, while being wary of any change in her expression, “why did you...?”

Why did she do that to you? What was her intention in exiling you after draining every last bit of your power? Remains unsaid.

She glances at her harbinger once, before refocusing on the sea, watching the wobbly reflection of the moon in the gentle tides.

“There was no need to keep up the pointless charade, is there?” the words themselves are cold and harsh, but something lies beyond.

“It’s been far too long. That child has been by my side for so many years. ” Childe patiently waits for the Tsarista to continue. It seems that she is in the mood for talking today, willing to share more.

“My initial plan to utilise adeptus power has been met, there is simply no need to keep that child around any longer.” The soft moonlight basking her figure made her even paler.

The queen of Snezhnaya is hard to understand.

Her words were so subtle and ambiguous, hard to fully uncover the hidden meanings.

Childe may not be the brightest, but for some reason he thought he might just have a faint idea on what she’s conveying.

Archons make the mistakes too. He recalled what Zhongli once told him, when he was still naive enough to not realise his true identity.

Archons, deities with absolute authority. But the geo archon had him realising even divine beings feel remorse for their own actions.

But guilt doesn’t seem to be the right word to describe what the current Tsarista is feeling.

It’s something else, hiding deep behind those walls.

“Did you know? There’s a tradition in Liyue for families to reunite under the full moon, no matter how far they parted.” she gazes at the luminous full moon.

Snezhnaya’s queen does not have any love left for her people - a saying he had heard from somewhere long ago, describing the one and only ruler of his home.

Being an archon does not mean they’re perfect, nor can they protect all their loved ones. In Zhongli’s case, he learnt, would be giving up his beloved adeptus for the sake of his people, and losing close friends in the ancient war.

Then how about the Tsarista? She must have lost something precious too.

But that is not for him to butt into.

“I’m sure the weather would be nicer there, without the neverending snowstorms and hail.”

Does the Tsarista truly have no love left for her people?

“As a previous envoy to Liyue, I guarantee that it’s warm and cosy.” a cheeky grin started to form on his face, getting wider and wider.

But perhaps he already knows the answer.

The Tsarista lets out a soft hum at his response, somewhat sounding relieved.

“Your highness, did you know? Morax frequently forgets to bring mora…”

“And he bought a vase for 1 million mora, and I had to pay!”

“Then La Signora knocked Scaramouche’s hat off! He was so pissed!”

“And that moose-deer being talked! I had no idea it was an adeptus!”

Light chuckles and giggles filled the quiet atmosphere along with Childe’s innocent and non-stop rambling.

Just for today, it’s okay for her to drop her facade.

Maybe, the Tsarista is not as unfathomable.

An archon may not be so different from human mortals, after all.

“I’m sure that Zhongli and them are having a great time.” his grin so wide and bright, “that child, well, a child older than me, is finally back home after all.”

“Happy full moon day, your highness.”

“I believe the correct saying is ‘happy mid-autumn festival’, Tartaglia.”

Childe awkwardly rubbed his head and broke out into a loud laughter.

“Could you help me deliver something when you visit Liyue again?” She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a tarnished necklace.

One that is cracked, but pieces of it has been carefully assembled and glued together.

One that resembles the shape of a flower he hadn’t seen in Snezhnaya.

One that seems to be of very old age, considering the oxidized parts. It couldn’t be worth much. Who is the Tsarista giving this to?

“It’s something that child left behind.” Ah. A sudden realisation hits him. So it was not the Tsarista’s own belongings.

“What was done was inevitable for the final destination, I don’t regret it. Yet… that child has been with me for quite some time.”

“That child had quite a hard time. This… is something they held dearly before.” She points at the necklace, running her fingers over the flower. “I wasn’t sure how to give it back.”

So that was why the Tsarista held onto something that seemed so… worn out.

Even though Childe still disapproves of her actions towards you which caused you to suffer, he feels as if he gained a deeper understanding of his archon.

She is meant to be someone brutal who would commit atrocities just to achieve her goal, even if she believes it will lead to peace.

Perhaps that’s why she always kept a certain distance from you. The Tsarista has done terrible things, so, so many heartless and ruthless deeds.

Or maybe, the archons are just not good at communication. Childe huffs at his own thoughts, recalling both Zhongli’s and Tsarista’s expressions when talking about you.

Archons are just as imperfect as mortals are.

The archons sure are hard to understand.

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renneiscent · 2 years

Text

The Heist (Chapter 2)

This is the continuation of the story, I apologize for my messy writing. I’m not going to make an excuse with English is not my first language but still please consider it and be nice to me.. I have fragile heart. :D

Yes, I posted it again. And yes, I made the mess. I'm sorry. 😩

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I’m trying to collect all of my sense of self-preservation. Think smart, MC. Think smart. I sighed and tucked my hair, trying to give a confident smile which I wasn’t sure if it worked or was awkward.

“Well, I’m not sure what your intention, but—” I clear my throat, trying so hard to hide my shaky voice. God, this is going to be much easier if I did it behind my screen. Why didn’t they just contact me by phone? “—how on earth am I supposed to believe that the man over there is someone I knew? He could be your agent, who is roleplaying in this sketchy sitcom, couldn’t he?”

As much as I’m trying to play it cool, my body is not cooperating really well. I can sense my nape is little bit tense and my legs are not strong enough to support me for standing; so I’m crossing my arms as a reflex which is a huge mistake because if they are truly agents, they must learn some body language scout book and knowing that how uneasy I am right now. Next time when I managed to get out from this thing, please remind me to sign up in class about how to lie.

Agent Michaels is giving smile which is not so reassuring for me whiles his hands steepling on the desk, “that is a really good thought of you; I didn’t think you could ever assume things like that.”

His statement makes me scoff and roll my eyes, “well, if this somehow makes you feeling better, I also don’t believe that you…” I turn my back and face the other agent behind me, pointing at him with my chin, “…and this person right here are agents. I don’t pay taxes to be kidnapped by people in fancy suits.”

With what happened in the past few months, I have learned a lot. Well, probably one of them is staying out of people’s affairs and the rest of it is how to wrap people on your fingers; especially officers.

“As a matter of a fact, we can convince you that we are agents and not just random people with fancy suit and kidnap a woman. We can really assure you that.” His thin lips curved a smile, “but if you still need something to verify your skepticism, how about this?”

He took something from his pocket and put it on the desk, it’s FBI badge. I clenched my jaw, trying to not make weird expression and remain to calm. Agent Wilson is walking to the desk and taking the badge, handing it to me as well as his badge. I took those badges right away and my eyes are scanning every inch of it; checking if it’s real or not. But frankly speaking, I can’t tell if those are real or not. I’m incapable to do that because lacking of knowledge, excuse me for not involving in crime and pissing off government enough.

“It can be fake,” I responded after examine the badges for a while; I put the badges on the desk and cross my arms again. Stop that habit already, MC! Stop crossing your arms every time you are feeling uneasy! You don’t have to tell them that you are feeling anxious!

I can hear how this Michaels person let out a little sigh; perhaps he’s done with me. Will he shoot me for being so nosy? I cannot see where they keep their gun but I don’t think they will just murder me because asking so many questions and being skeptical… right? After all, they just offered me to work for them few minutes ago.

“In that case,” Agent Michaels put his badge again to his pocket, “how about we let you to talk to him? I think you are more able to trust if he’s the one who explaining everything right now. It’s not like we can break those trust issue of yours, is it?”

[ tagging: @03patrickstar ]

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#duskwood the heist #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood #duskwood everbyte

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asweetprologue · 4 years

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salt rain

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Rainy day Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: T (for canon typical injury) Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt is injured on a hunt and confesses to Jaskier, thinking that this is the end. Jaskier is pissed. ao3

The raindrops fell into his eyes, stinging as they mixed with the sweat on his brow. Geralt blinked them away, staring up at the gray sky above them.

“Bet this’ll make a good ballad,” he said, the lightness of his tone probably contradicted by the way his teeth were stained with blood. He let his head fall to the side so that he could better see Jaskier, who shot him an infuriated, terrified look.

“Don’t fucking say that,” he said, turning his gaze away as he pressed hard into Geralt’s side, where the archgriffon had torn him open with a well aimed swipe. Geralt had stabbed through its throat while it hovered above him, but the thing had fallen nearly on top of him. Most critically, directly on top of his bag of potions, which were now no more than a few shards of glass on the ground. He had more back at the campsite, with Roach, but she was too far. They’d never make it there in time.

Jaskier pressed against the wound with some kind of fabric. His doublet. He was stripped down to his shirtsleeves, the thin linen fabric clinging to him as the rain drenched it. Brown hair flopped down into his eyes, pushed flat by the downpour, and Jaskier pushed it out of the way impatiently. “You’re not going to die out here,” Jaskier muttered, almost more to himself than Geralt.

It was a nice sentiment, but a naïve one. He had no potions. The rain was soaking him and Jaskier both, ensuring that his wound continued to run bloody. Without Swallow or White Raffords, there was no way he could heal from such a large injury, not without serious medical intervention. “Jaskier,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

Jaskier didn’t look up, his jaw clenched hard as he tried to put pressure on the hole in Geralt’s side. “You’re not,” he choked out through gritted teeth. “You can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, reaching a hand up to grasp the edge of Jaskier’s shirtsleeve. He felt weak already, the short distance to Jaskier’s wrist taking monumental effort to traverse. He opened his mouth, panting, and the rain fell on his tongue in splashes of clear, sweet spring. “Jaskier, please, look at me.”

This time Jaskier turned, his wide eyes clearly brimming with tears. He sucked in a breath when he saw Geralt’s face, his expression crumpling a bit. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, a choked admission of guilt. Geralt’s heart clenched in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries.

“It’s alright,” he said, trying to focus on the bard even as his vision swam. His hand fell to rest on top of Jaskier’s, where it was still pressed hard to his side. The skin there was warm and wet, though he didn’t know if it was blood or rainwater he found there. He was so tired. He wanted to close his eyes, but that would mean looking away from Jaskier’s beautiful, worried face, and he didn’t have the strength for that yet. “I’m glad you’re here, Jask.”

“Don’t,” Jaskier said, pleaded. Geralt couldn’t tell if he was crying, face too wet with rain to say. “Don’t do this, please.”

“Not much of a choice,” Geralt replied, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. The ground beneath him was warm, and that, he knew, was blood, mixing with the rain and turning the dirt to mud. It was over. “I’m sorry. Don’t wanna… leave you.”

“Then don’t,” Jaskier cried, one of his hands coming up to cradle Geralt’s cheek. He blinked his eyes open, not realizing that he’d closed them. Jaskier’s hand was so warm against his cold skin. His eyes were so blue. “Stay with me.”

He couldn’t, so instead he just said, “I love you. Jaskier. I love you.”

Jaskier made a sound like he was the one who’d been stabbed, a choked cry of pure misery that Geralt felt echoed in his own chest. “No,” he sobbed, “how can you say that? Not now, please-”

“Always,” Geralt sighed, feeling his eyes slipping closed again. “Always have. Sorry.”

“Geralt? Stay with me, please, darling, please stay with me. Geralt? Geralt!”

Geralt slipped into darkness.

It was a surprise that he woke.

He knew immediately that he was alive because of the pain. It was dulled from the sharp, twisting agony that he’d felt lying in the field, but it was still there. His side throbbed with the telltale itch of his too-quick healing.

Upon forcing his eyes open, Geralt found himself lying in a thin bed in what looked to be a room at an inn. It was familiar - not the room itself, but the woodworm eaten timbers of the ceiling looked just as they had three nights ago when he and Jaskier had passed through the last town. It was a small thing, truly only fit for one person, but Geralt could see both his own bags and Jaskier’s lute case leaning against the small fireplace. Geralt sat up slowly, feeling the newer skin on his side pull at the movement. Still not fully healed, but it must have been at least a day since he fell unconscious. How was he alive? He had been sure, so sure, that this had been the end, even told Jaskier-

Oh shit. Jaskier.

Geralt threw back the thin blanket covering the small bed and heaved himself out of it, wincing as his side screamed at him. He’d had worse, certainly, and he needed to find Jaskier. The only thing that put his mind even slightly at ease was the presence of the lute; no matter how angry Jaskier was at him, he would never leave his instrument behind. Geralt just had to find him, convince him that it was no big deal, that he didn’t mean it like that. That he knew Jaskier didn’t feel the same, and there was no reason things had to change between them. Panic made Geralt’s throat tighten, and it wasn’t just the strain of his recent injury making his heart pound double time in his chest. He had to find Jaskier.

He pulled open the door to the room, letting it slam into the wall behind him, and practically threw himself into the hallway. Only to run headfirst into Jaskier as he rounded the corner, their foreheads cracking together. Geralt felt something warm and wet coat his front as whatever was in the bowl Jaskier had been holding tumbled out of his hands.

Geralt stumbled backwards, cursing as he looked down at the stew now coating his bare chest and the bandages around his waist. He hadn’t even thought to put on a shirt. Jaskier scrambled up from where he’d fallen flat on his ass, one hand pressed to his forehead.

“What the fuck,” he hissed, “are you doing up?” Geralt looked up, startled by the vehemence in Jaskier’s tone. “Shit, look at you, now I don’t have any lunch! Fuck.” Jaskier stepped forward, bowl abandoned, and his fingertips touched the edge of the bandage around Geralt’s middle. His fingers skimmed over the skin just at the edge, and Geralt suppressed a shiver. “Look at this mess. You shouldn’t even be standing, are you alright? We need to change these, come on.”

Geralt allowed himself to be maneuvered, Jaskier herding him back into the room and pushing at him until he sat back on the rumpled bed sheets. The floor was chilly beneath his bare feet, and Geralt spared a moment to feel a bit foolish for rushing out of the room in not much more than his braies in his eagerness to confront the bard. Now that they were in the same room, he found himself unable to even speak as Jaskier fluttered about, griping to himself. He was clearly angry, though Geralt couldn’t tell if it went beyond irritation at being bumped into. After a few moments Jaskier threw down a handful of bandages and gauze that he’d pulled from a bag resting on the single trunk in the room, the closest thing to a table. Geralt didn’t recognize it; Jaskier must have purchased some supplies while he was out.

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Jaskier muttered, brow furrowed as he knelt before Geralt, right in between his knees. Normally having Jaskier in such a position would be enough to make Geralt flustered, but now he just felt anxiety crawling up his neck. Jaskier began to pull off the soup-soaked bandages around his waist, fingers gentle even though his brow was still wrinkled with consternation. He fell silent, using the ruined fabric to wipe the rest of the stew from Geralt’s chest before reaching for the clean supplies next to him.

Geralt reached out and caught his wrist, his own grip tentative. Jaskier could have broken out of it if he’d wanted to, but instead he froze. “I don’t need them,” Geralt grunted softly, waving to his side with his other hand. He didn’t have to look to know that most of the healing was done. The wound might still be partially exposed, but it was no longer bleeding, and witchers couldn’t get infections like normal humans. There was no need for extra bandages that would only slow him down.

Jaskier wrenched his hand out of Geralt’s grasp, his jaw clenching. “I say you do,” he snapped. “How would you know, anyways? You’ve been asleep for the better part of two days, while I took care of… all this.” He gave a sharp nod towards Geralt’s injury, though he avoided looking at it.

“I’m… sorry.” Geralt shifted awkwardly as Jaskier unspooled a roll of gauze and began to gently wrap up his side once again. He didn’t fight it further, afraid to make Jaskier even angrier than he already was. This must be about something more, he thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. Jaskier had seen him injured plenty of times, and he’d never been so infuriated. It could only be about what Geralt had said to him, before.

I love you.

His own jaw tightened at the memory, the feeling of the rain on his face as he felt himself slowly bleeding out, just wanting Jaskier to know how he felt. He’d just wanted to say it. Just once.

And look where it landed him.

“How, uh.” He started and stopped, distracted by Jaskier’s hands as they hesitated over his wound, gently pressing the gauze down. “How am I…?”

“Alive?” Jaskier finished, voice still brittle. “Yeah, that is the question, hmm? It was Roach, really. I whistled to her - I’m quite good at that, did you know? Good lungs I guess. Anyways, she heard me and came. Brought all your potions, and I was able to get enough Swallow into you to slow the bleeding, enough to bandage you up and get back to town. It wasn’t easy, mind, you’re a heavy bastard and these arms are not meant for manual labor. Thank the gods Roach is used to taking care of your sorry arse, or I’d never have managed. You were bleeding all over the saddle, and I couldn’t remember which one was White Honey and which was White Raffords, and if I’d given you the Honey you’d have been bleeding out even more, so I just had to get into town and find a healer, which was a damn difficult thing to do in that storm-”

He was rambling, sharp, angry words carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. Geralt set a hand over Jaskier’s where they were tying off the bandage, just before he pulled away. “Jaskier,” he interrupted, as gently as he could. “Thank you.”

Jaskier blinked at him, seemingly startled. “Wh- For what?”

“You saved my life.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, “Roach did all the heavy lifting.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said again, imploring. Jaskier pulled his hands away, blinking hard as he looked away from Geralt and towards the fire. He didn’t move out from between Geralt’s spread knees, but he was no longer touching either. His arms crossed defensively, his hands tucking under his armpits. “I’m sorry.” Geralt didn’t know what else to say.

“You should be!” Jaskier suddenly exploded, standing up and pacing across the room. Geralt reached for him, but he was already gone. He watched from the bed as Jaskier threw his hands up, turning back to point an accusatory finger at him. “You were bleeding out in my arms and you choose that moment to what, confess your- to confess to me? Then, Geralt? That’s not fair! You can’t just say something like that and then almost- and then-” He put a hand over his mouth, turning away. His shoulders were shaking slightly.

Geralt rose, horrified. He stepped up to Jaskier’s side, hand hovering over his shoulder but unsure if his touch would be welcome. “Jaskier, Jaskier, I’m sorry,” he said, panicked. “Please don’t be upset. I’m not- It doesn’t have to change anything. I know it was out of line, I’m sorry.”

Jaskier wasn’t listening, scrubbing hard at his watery eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, taking a shaky breath. “I mean, I understand you might have had your reservations before,” he said, voice strained, “but how was I supposed to get over that?” He lowered his gaze, meeting Geralt’s eyes. This time there was no rain to mix with his tears. “Knowing that you… that we could have been…”

Geralt was at a loss for words. “I didn’t think,” he stuttered, “I didn’t think you would feel the same. As me. I just wanted you to know.”

Jaskier inhaled sharply, a wet, pained sound. “You meant it?” he asked.

Geralt nodded gravely.

Suddenly he had an armful of bard, Jaskier flinging his own arms around Geralt’s neck as he buried his face in his throat. A sob shuddered out of him, and Geralt brought his hands up to spread across Jaskier’s shoulders. His side twinged painfully, but he ignored it. “You almost died,” Jaskier gasped, one of his hands burying itself in Geralt’s hair and clutching almost painfully. “How could you tell me you love me and then leave me?”

“I didn’t want to,” Geralt murmured, pressing his cheek to Jaskier’s temple. “I just wanted you to know. That I… loved you. Love you.”

“I’ve loved you for twenty years,” Jaskier hiccupped, his forehead pressing against Geralt’s shoulder. “You could have said it any time.”

Geralt pulled back a bit, one of his hands coming up to cradle Jaskier’s face as he met his gaze. He felt breathless, something light stirring in his chest even as he mournfully took in the tear streaks on Jaskier’s cheeks. “You too?” he asked, heart in his throat.

Jaskier choked out a laugh, and turned to press a brief kiss to Geralt’s palm. Geralt couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped him. “You’re the stupidest man I know,” Jaskier said into his hand, before looking back up at him. “Of course me too.”

Geralt couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward, from letting Jaskier’s breath gust over his nose before he used the hand on his cheek to guide Jaskier’s mouth to his own. It was only a brief press, sweet like fresh rainwater and salty with Jaskier’s tears. He pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s. When his eyes fluttered open, he found Jaskier staring at him, blue eyes startlingly bright.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you,” Jaskier said. He didn’t sound angry, though. His voice was still shaky, but a small smile was spreading across his mouth. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“I don’t plan to,” Geralt agreed easily. His side still throbbed, but the pain felt far away, and Jaskier was warm and soft in his arms. “Even if you’re still mad, would you do something for me?”

Jaskier hummed. “Depends on the request.” His fingers had gentled in Geralt’s hair, petting across the base of his skull.

“Will you say it?” he asked, tracing a thumb under Jaskier’s eye. Wiping away the last of the dampness there.

Jaskier looked confused for a moment, and then his face brightened like a storm cloud had passed. “Oh,” he said, fondness saturating his voice. “Oh, Geralt. I love you. I always have.”

Relief, affection, joy. Geralt felt lighter than he had in years. “Me too,” he said, leaning in to speak the words against Jaskier’s lips. “I love you too.”

tag list: @llamasdumpsterfire, @theamazingbard

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #witcher #tw: injury #fic #witcher fic #fanfiction #my work #sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo #s&s #sorry the prompt was automatically kind of sappy so I made it angsty #>5k #hurt/comfort #sort of #forgot to put this under a cut initially oops

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cuquitalocita · 3 years

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i love you yeah yeah yeah |rowaelin month- day 3|

rowaelin masterlist

an: i’m not gonna lie, i had so so much fun writing this one! i’m a tennis player and my sister is as well, therefore why i know so much about the junior pro league. for those of you who don’t know, the orange bowl is an actual tournament played internationally for juniors and i’m ranting wow so anyway i hope this isn’t too tennis vocab-y :)

word count: 3,876

It’s the final two days before competition at the International Orange Bowl this year being held in Terrasen and it’s no surprise that tensions between players and academies are more than high. We’re so glad to be here for yet another year of thrilling competition in which the winners will automatically be placed into the first round of the U.S. Open. I, for one, and more than excited to see some new teen faces this year, what about you, Gavriel?

You know Cairn, I completely agree and as someone from Terrasen, you must be more than excited to see some friendly competition on your home turf.

Oh, I sure am excited, but I don’t know if you’d call this competition exactly ‘friendly.’ For those of you unaware, the rivalry between the TAT (Tennis Academy of Terrasen) and the DTC (Doranelle Tennis Center) has been going on for close to ten years now, beginning all the way back to when founders Maeve Vesta and Evalin Galathynius were in college, rivals through and through. Now adults, their children carry on their competitive legacy, taking the nation by storm. If you see the final match of any tournament, you can bet your money it’s a Doranelle kid and a Terrasen kid.

The stakes sure are high during this tournament, as it isn’t closed, like the academies’ usual ones. Instead, anyone player eighteen years old and younger with the qualifying points was eligible to register. I’m looking forward to seeing some new faces this year.

Me too, but you can never go wrong with the usual suspects. This year, my money is on eighteen year- old Rowan Whitethorn from Doranelle, ranked second in the country, in the men’s finals. As Maeve’s nephew, Rowan has been put in the spotlight for most of his life, not to mention taking a clear leadership role among the DTC alongside Lorcan Salvaterre.

That’s a good point, Gavriel, in the past years Rowan has made it to at least the quarter-finals but has always lost before he can truly do. I have a feeling the kid has a lot more in him. And as for the women, I wouldn’t be too surprised to see the Terrasen seventeen year- old cruising through a few rounds before her tough competition starts. We can’t expect anything less than Evalin Galathynius’ daughter, right?

I for one, am more than excited for pre- first-round interviews. It’s always quite interesting to see each players’ mindset before they set out for blood.

“What do you think our favorite golden girl has in store for us this year, Gavriel? Something tells me she’s a little more than annoyed given what happened at the finals of the last international tournament held in Terassen when Remelle Frost from the Doranelle academy beat her in what was the biggest upset of the season.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and glared at the back of her mother’s seat, the woman in question frowning as the annoying voice of Cairn Rossa rang through the rental car. She reached forward to turn the station off just as Gavriel’s voice rang out once more.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here, Cairn,” the older man was responding. “I’ve been doing this just a bit longer than you enough to know when a player isn’t themselves. One loss isn’t the definition of a player the same way one win isn’t either. I suggest both teams- including Aelin and Remelle themselves- step onto the court, and play.”

Aelin let out a satisfied huff. She knew she had always liked Gavriel. Aelin liked that the man looked at the players as more than just players in a video game or statistics on a screen. As a former player himself, Aelin knew the man understood the game in and out and was more than qualified to report during the national tournaments, no matter where he was born and what side he was essentially placed on.

The station was snapped off as her mother’s finger found the correct button, earning an annoyed glare from the Uber driver next to her that she promptly ignored in favor of turning back to her daughter, opening her mouth to say something. Aelin’s own eyes stared back at her before shifting down to the phone she held in her hand. It had just buzzed signaling a new notification that had her mother lifting her brows.

Aelin immediately shifted forward in an attempt to look over her mother’s should before her hand was on her face, batting her daughter away with a motherly ‘leave me alone’ look. She relented, leaning back into her seat with slumped shoulders. Finally, her mother huffed but remained with her back facing Aelin.

She knew it was different this year, she could practically feel it in the air. Without her father with the two women in the car, the tournament atmosphere was a different universe.

It was getting dark outside, the sun setting behind them as they drove through the dazzling city. The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel that sent Aelin jerking out of her own thoughts. Her mother turned back to her with a sad knowing smile and patted her daughter’s knee.

“We’re here. Try to get some sleep- you have a long day tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan for today?” Aelin asked her mother around a mouthful of bagel the next morning. It wasn’t every day the founder of the University came to watch her players in a tournament, but whoever won this won would be fed into the first round of an official professional tournament. It would be amazing PR for the academy, Aelin knew, but she also knew her mother felt bad that her father had escorted Aelin to all of her tournaments in prior years. And now that he wasn’t here anymore…

“Eat up- after you’re done I’ve reserved three courts at the complex and we’ll get together with everyone.” ‘Everyone’ being every other players from the academy who had enough points to enter the qualifiers. Not all of them were as highly ranked as Aelin, but she found it helpful to train with them all the same. They were her friends. “We do need to pick Lysandra up from the airport first though,” she said as she frowned at her phone. “Her flight was supposed to have landed a few minutes ago but she hasn’t reached out…”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her mother, she always did have a thing with protectiveness over her best friend.

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her. “Aed said he would pick her up and then meet us at the courts. I wouldn’t want to be in that car if I were you.” She faked a gag, causing her mother to laugh.

“Alright then. Eat, find your rackets, and take the rental to the courts. It was just delivered this morning. I have some business to finish here at the hotel.” She left Aelin with a kiss to the head.

It didn’t take long for Aelin to pull up to the familiar yet daunting tennis complex bigger than even the academy, and she pushed the car into park, simply staring for a moment.

This was it.

Three years she had come close to winning as the youngest person in history. So close. But this was the year. This was her year. She could do this. She would do this.

And so Aelin Galathynius pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin as she grabbed her massive tennis bag from the trunk and slung it over her shoulders. The weight was heavy and familiar as she walked through the glass double doors and to the front desk, only to halt in her tracks when she came face to face with a familiar head of silver hair.

Rowan Whitethorn.

She had quite often mused about how unfair it was that her essential biggest rival was so attractive. It didn’t really make hating him very fair, now did it? But there he stood, green eyes shining and teeth flashing as he snapped something at the young man at the desk. The poor boy looked ready to pee himself and Aelin couldn’t help but release a sharp laugh, causing both Rowan and the blonde next to him to whip around.

Aelin watched as Rowan’s eyes sparked and his mouth curved into a sneer as he took her in from head to toe. She forced herself still and kept her eyes on his face. It was all she could do. Rowan opened his mouth and Aelin prepared her hackles to rise instantly.

“Aelin. Good to see you here.” But it wasn’t Rowan who spoke. No, it was Remelle Frost, her least favorite bottle blonde on the planet that spoke as she curled a possessive hand over Rowan’s bicep. Aelin simply rolled her eyes, never one to beat around the bush. It was common knowledge that the blondes didn’t like each other. And after the Adarlan tournament, Aelin wouldn’t hide her disdain for the girl.

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied dismissively as she shouldered past Rowan and made for the front desk. One charming smile and the boy seemed to handle her much better than Rowan. She gave him her mother’s name, him quickly nodding a confirmation and giving her the court numbers, saying they would be available in just a moment.

She turned around, unsurprised to see Rowan glaring at the back of her head. It had been almost eight years of this rivalry. At least for them. Aelin thought it might’ve been a little ridiculous, considering that it started with her mother and his aunt, but the Doranelle kids just made it so easy to hate them. So easy to want to pound them on and off the court. She wouldn’t apologize for the adrenaline the rivalry provided her with.

Aelin smirked, cocking her hip. “Like what you see?”

“Hardly,” he growled. “Just wondering whether or not you actually came to play this time.”

Aelin recognized the comment for what it was- a direct jab to the last tournament where she had lost to Remelle. If the comment hadn’t pissed her off so much she would’ve recognized the compliment for what it was.

“Well, that depends which game you’re talking about, Whitethorn.” Her voice was just teasing enough to annoy him once more, and Aelin’s grin grew.

“Don’t you have a court to go find?” Remelle cut in from beside Rowan, who had distanced himself from her. Aelin didn’t blame him. She wanted to do the same thing.

“And here I was enjoying our little chat. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, mar sin leat.”

“This isn’t Terrasen,” Remelle hissed. “We say ‘good luck’ here. Gods, you Terrasen kids are pieces of-”

Someone caught her by the waist as Aelin attempted to throw herself at the girl and she was soon spun around in their arms, coming face to face with her own eyes. Aedion’s were flashing too as his eyes were fixed behind her, no doubt at Rowan.

“Leave it, Ace, it’s not worth it.”

“It’s true, princess,” Rowan finally spoke with a sneer. “You’re gonna need those pretty little hands tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to have an excuse when you get your ass kicked.”

“Oh, I’ll show you-”

Aedion dragged her away before she could get another word out, her fists clenched and her teeth bared. She shoved him when he put her down.

“Fucking Doranelle,” Aedion spat under his breath as he shook his head.

He merely gestured to a figure behind her, causing Aelin to whip around with wide eyes. Shit. Duke Perrington grinned at her through the snake-eyed lens of his camera and gave her a tiny wave as she bared her teeth at him

Perfect. Now it would look like Terrasen had begun a fight before the tournament even began.

Her mother was going to kill her.

Aelin felt like the stadium had never been bigger. She had known this year she would be playing where the professionals themselves did, including Maeve and her mother, but never in a million years had it looked so daunting or made her feel so small.

The tournament had been, well needless to say, easy for Aelin so far. She had breezed through her first few matches, absolutely destroying the poor girls, and her third had been straight sets as well. But now it was the semis. And she would have to face Remelle on center court. It seemed the gods liked playing jokes on Aelin Galathynius.

She could feel every pair of eyes snap to hers the moment she stepped onto the court but she looked forward. Maybe she was a crowd favorite- but that would do her no favors in the upcoming match. Aelin thought she was going to hurl all over her new shoes and she let the deafening cheering of the audience cover the sound of her pounding heart.

Remelle walked in not long after she and Aelin met her in the middle of the court, racket in hand. Showtime.

Aelin might have been paying attention when the coin had been flipped, might have been minimally involved when she called heads or when she won the call and opted to serve first. She might have been only slightly aware of her surroundings as she took a small sip of her water and walked to the back of the court.

And then it was movement.

It was backward and forwards, side to side, low and high, and it was the same dance Aelin knew better than anything. The same feeling in her feet when she sprinted to the ball and the same stretch of muscles when she reached for a shot. This was who she was- this was the pattern she had lived for ten years.

But it didn’t seem to matter, not as the score continued to tip less and less in her favor with every passing point. She was playing well- but Remelle was playing better. And there was nothing Aelin could do but survive and ignore the satisfied smirks the other girl would throw her during their side changes.

Think, Aelin, think.

Nothing was coming to her head. All she could hear was the pounding adrenaline through her body telling her to play. To cross each bridge when she came to it. There was nothing more she could do than play.

It was then, when Aelin threw herself at a particularly difficult ball, that she felt something shift. And she knew she was screwed.

Aelin was a tennis player- she had rolled her ankle before. But this was different. It had never hurt this bad. And as the rest of her body came down with her ankle, she thought that it could be it. That it was the end of the match all due to a stupid ankle injury.

With her heart in her throat, Aelin signaled to the red- headed umpire.

Injury, she mouthed to her, and the woman- Ansel, it seemed her name was- simply nodded. She was in the massive locker room without a second thought, dragging out a spare bucket of ice held in one of the corners of the room and shoved her foot it. Might as well get it over with.

Aelin winced as the ice on her foot began to take effect and her muscles began to ache, her breathing beginning to lose its consistency. Gods, she hated this. She hated the useless feeling that came over her at the thought of possibly being unable to finish the match. At the thought of all the people, she would be letting down.

She was tired. Aelin was so, so tired.

Gods, she just needed-

The door to the locker room burst open with a loud and abrupt clang, causing Aelin to jerk forward, spilling water on the ground as she opened her mouth. She was ready to tell them that she needed some privacy before her eyes locked onto a familiar figure that sent her heart pounding for a different reason.

“Rowan, you can’t be in here!”

The hulking boy ignored her protests, striding over her in no more than a few steps, both of his hands immediately going to the base of her neck to search her gaze with his own worried one, clearly not caring that he was in the girl’s locker room and would be kicked out of the tournament if he was found.

“Are you alright?” he insisted, his voice low and hoarse, forest eyes intense.

The gentleness in which he touched her had Aelin sighing and her hands reached up to lightly take hold of his wrists, bringing them down and gathering them in her own hands to hold to her chest.

She hadn’t meant to fall for Rowan Whitethorn.

But like everything in her life, it had happened quickly and unexpectedly, and Aelin had dealt with it head-on. It had been a year now. An entire year of playing tournaments in each other’s home’s just so they could see each other. Just so no suspicion was be aroused by the tabloids.

And Aelin hated it.

All she wanted to do was be able to link her hand through Rowan’s in public without causing a public scandal about a decade-long rivalry.

“I’m okay, you fussy buzzard,” she teased as she looked at him, pleased to see when the frown on his lips twitched the slightest bit upward. “It was just a little fall. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

But because he knew her so well, he had heard the uncertainty and fear in her voice as she spoke. So saying nothing, he pulled Aelin to his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around her completely, enveloping her in the scent that she had considered home for months.

And as she breathed him in, she wished home wasn’t always so godsdamned far.

Rowan let her breathe shakily into his chest, constantly running a soothing hand up and down her back as he hummed a small melody that he often did to get her to sleep over the phone at night. Aelin was the first person to admit it was much better in person.

“You don’t have to do it, Aelin,” he said finally, his movements never ceasing. “You don’t owe them anything.”

She knew who he was referring to of course, of the people who had come to watch the new ‘upcoming star’ in action and were expecting to see quite the show. They were the people Aelin had been trained to want to impress.

Aelin pulled back to tilt her chin up and look him in the eyes.

“I can’t just quit, Rowan. I won’t.”

“You have nothing to prove, Fireheart.” And Aelin almost broke as he used the nickname her father had. “Not to anyone.”

She shook her head, helplessness seeping through her body more and more as she looked at the boy in front of her. The pain in her ankle was even worse now. Unsurprisingly, he noticed, and his calloused hands moved to her wrists as he lead her back over to the bucket of ice water.

He kneeled down in front of the bench as she sat down and placed her foot in the water, wincing along with her even after she threw a glare at him.

I don’t see you with a foot in ice.

Seeing you in pain is enough to hurt me, his eyes gazed back playfully. Aelin rolled her eyes, quickly shutting them as another shock of pain rushed through her body, making her inhale sharply.

Her boyfriend frowned once more, clearly upset he could do nothing to help her. So he gathered her hands in his own, bringing them to his face to place a gentle kiss on them, pulling an unwitting smile from Aelin.

“I love you,” she said quietly. Rowan met her soft gaze for a moment before Aelin leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers in a kiss she hoped said everything she couldn’t. Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. I wish we weren’t a secret.

“I love you too, Fireheart.”

She would never get sick of hearing him say that. Of hearing the utter truth in his words.

Rowan was watching her with that adoring look he reserved only for her, his face open so she could see every emotion playing across his face. It only made her want to kiss him again.

So she did, although this time he met her halfway, taking her chin lightly between two fingers and tilting it up so he could kiss her thoroughly as her hands rested at the base of his neck, lightly twirling the pieces of soft hair she found there.

They sat there for a while, simply kissing, enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips and proximity when it was so few and far between, and Aelin relished in the feeling of loving someone who loved her back. In the feeling of not having to act.

When she accidentally tugged at a knot in his hair, Rowan pulled away with a painful groan and a nip to her bottom lip, causing Aelin to laugh and push his cheek away with two fingers.

“Sorry, Buzzard,” she laughed as Rowan stood up, with a playful glare. He folded his arms in front of him and it was only then that Aelin remembered she had a foot inside of a bucket of ice. And her medical time out was running out. “Shit. I have to go.”

Aelin jumped into action, taking her foot out of the ice with a hiss and grabbing a towel as Rowan maneuvered himself around her to find her shoes and socks. Apparently he had understood her message loud and clear about her intentions on forfeiting the match or not- he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with her.

Quickly enough, Aelin was good as new- well, as new as she could be with a half swollen ankle.

“Well,” she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to her boyfriend. “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot who shouldn’t be playing.”

“Or…?” she arched a brow. Rowan sighed and stepped toward her, his hands bracing both of her arms as he leaned forward to press an earnest kiss to her forehead.

“Or Terrasen’s champion,” he murmured against her skin.

Aelin grinned, a wicked and feral smile that meant she was ready to raise hell.

“Now that’s more like it.”

If someone had asked Aelin to regale the crowd with details of her match after she had come out victorious, she would have been unable to do so. Because all she remembered was the pounding of her feet on the ground, and the neon color of the tennis ball, and the feeling of her heart palpitating in her chest.

Oh, and of course she couldn’t forget the moment after her match- winning shot, when every care and inhibition had left her in one foul swoop. When she had sprinted over to the stands and thrown herself into the arms of the silver- haired enemy, delighting in his deep laughter..

And kissed him in the middle of the stadium for all to see.

this prompt was: secret dating

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin modern au #tog #sjm #throne of glass #rowaelin month

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glacial-snowflakes · 3 years

Text

Subtle hum of the Hudson River - part 2 // Loki

A/N: Hi darlings! I'm sorry for not posting but I kind of don't have that much time rn :( I'm so so sorry! I hope you like it! <3

Here is part 1

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Word count: 2,5k

Summary: You and Loki take a stroll down the river, letting yourself be honest with each other. The words you spoke have an unexpected result.

WARNINGS: it's all fluff, don't you worry!; parts written like this are retrospection

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. It’s really motivating <3

Outrage and disgust filled every little whisper he heard. The team's looks were so sharp that they could cut one's skin open. Sighs full of hatred. Snarky remarks, supposedly innocent, yet hurt like hell. Why would anyone care about God of Mischief? Yes, he might live in the Tower, and yes, he might call himself one of the Avengers now, but he would never belong. Never. Not after what he did.

"They will never trust me, won't they?" Loki asked Thor, his sight focused on a cup he was holding in his frozen hands. The tea wasn't hot anymore. It went cold just like his heart that had never known the warmth of love. Trickster raised his eyes to meet Thor's. God of Thunder could swear that for a moment, he saw despair painted onto his brother's pale face. "I thought you didn't care about them nor their attitude towards you."

"I don't." The raven-haired man said immediately but seeing his brother's smile made him speak the truth. "I hate the way they look at me. I know what I did, and I deserve it. It's just— Nevermind." Loki sighed and took a sip of his cold tea. Speaking about his feelings was never his strong suit. Opening up to someone and spilling his guts felt like a nightmare he didn't want to experience at all costs. Runaway was the best choice.

"If you want to gain their trust, start with Lady Y/N. She's the most perfect for being the first one to break the ice with. Believe me." Thor gave his brother a clap on the back and nodded. "Go on."

"She's holding a knife right now. I am the one who stabs, not the one to be stabbed." Loki muttered. Thor's look said everything. In response, God of Mischief just rolled his eyes, stood up, and slowly approached you. You seemed so focused on the meal you were preparing that you didn't even notice him at first. He cleared his throat. "Lady Y/N."

You snapped out of the trance you were in just a few seconds ago. You lifted a knife you were holding in your hand. It was all covered up in ice, even sharper than the kitchen utensil itself. You held it up in front of your face as you were breathing rather heavily, scared of the sudden voice that made you come back to earth with a bump. Loki could swear that for a moment, your eyes turned impeccably white, just like the snow you could summon whenever you wanted.

"I— I'm so sorry, I didn't want to scare you. I truly mean it." Loki said immediately, waving his hands, the visible awkwardness painted onto his face.

"No, no! It's not your fault." You smiled to assure him that everything was fine. "Whenever I'm cooking, I'm in a trance. Just me, food, my mind free of all the bad thoughts that have been haunting me." You waved your hand in which you were holding a knife, and the ice melted away, just like that, not leaving any mark behind. Loki gave you a subtle nod and asked. "What are you cooking?"

"Oh, I won't tell you." You blurted out, which was followed by the awkward silence. "It's because I'm making my secret dish. Y/N's secret delicacy. No one knows what's inside except me." You explained in the blink of an eye. Loki seemed to be a little bit confused. Oh boy, you weren't good at small talks either. "If you want to, you can stay and sit here. We can talk about whatever you want or, if not, we can sit there in silence. It depends on you."

A sweet, delicate smile appeared on your face. You knew it was hard for Loki. You could see that. You noticed these quick looks he was giving whenever someone whispered his name. You noticed his need to be included when you were in a group, but everybody seemed to be ignoring him. Nobody wanted him to participate in meetings or conversations. He was in a crowd, yet he felt like he was all by himself. You saw all of this, and it made you feel bad. You knew what he did, but in the end, he was one of you now. Every god could bleed, and it hurt you to watch.

You wanted to make the raven-haired man feel better. Even if you were the only one to do this and every other person was about to judge you, you wanted Loki to feel included, to feel important. You promised yourself that it would be YOU who will make Loki feel welcomed, welcomed in a place where everyone pushed him away.

"Can I ask what your exact powers are?" Loki started the conversation, and you couldn't help but smiled. He truly wanted to talk with you. How adorable.

"I'm a demigod with cryokinetic powers. It would take a lot to talk about my abilities, but I will tell you that my favorite one is making ice daggers. Quick and simple, though it took some time to master the perfect shape." You chuckled. "Learning to aim ideally in a battle to cut through a chest and freeze someone's heart was the most problematic part."

"I didn't know you are so violent and tough."

"I am not... I guess I pretend to be." You said quietly, not looking upon a cutting board. A deep sigh escaped your mouth. "You know, it's not a job for everyone. Sometimes I'm too gentle for that."

You didn't let the silence last forever, as you immediately asked. "How do you find yourself here? Do you like the Tower?"

"Ah, you know... It has changed since the last time I visited." Loki said, clearly ashamed of all the damage he did back in 2012. Till these days, the thought of the Chitauri ravaging New York gave you the shivers. It was a very demanding and traumatizing first day of work as the Avenger.

"A renovation was a must." You joked; to clear the air and shoo away the atmosphere that was creeping towards you. "What about your room?"

"If you can call a small couch in Thor's bedroom my room, then I guess it's okay."

"You sleep on Thor's couch?" It was something that surprised you and not in a good way. You got that Loki wasn't everyone's favorite member, but there was a ton of empty bedrooms in the Tower in which he could live.

The God of Mischief nodded. "It's not that bad."

"I don't care. I will talk to Tony. You have to have your own bedroom. It's not like you can sleep on his couch forever. It's not comfortable in the long run." Loki opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "I've got it covered, don't worry."

There was something in talking to you that made Loki feel at home. The way you looked at him; gave him the sweetest and prettiest smiles he has ever seen. There was no hate in your voice, no disgust that he's been experiencing on a daily basis since he could remember. You actually treated him like a human being, despite everything he has ever done. There was only one person he knew with such a kind heart, and you reminded him of her; you reminded him of Frigga.

"You know..." Loki begun. "I feel like you are the only one that doesn't want to cut my throat or stab my heart with my dagger."

You smiled gently. "I think you deserve a second chance."

"And why is that?"

"This is a story for another time."

***

"Where do you think you two are going?" Tony asked when you and Loki approached the elevator. God of Mischief gave him a quick stare before pushing the button with an arrow pointing down. You turned your head to face Tony, who was making himself a coffee. "We're going on a walk." You answered with a smile on your face.

"It's almost midnight."

"Said a man with a cup of coffee in his hand." You chuckled. "We're going to be fine. He's a god, and I'm a demigod. Nothing bad will happen to us."

You knew that it wasn't you who Tony was worried about; he still didn't trust Loki. When you joined the Avengers, you were one of the youngest in the group. Fresh blood, you could say. Stark watched you growing from an impulsive, careless kid with ice powers to a deliberate adult, a demigod aware of her cryokinetic strength. Seeing you change over the years, he felt responsible for your life. Even if Man of Iron knew you could handle yourself, Loki was too powerful. Tony refused to believe in his change, and with it, he was afraid that the Trickster was purely playing with you. If only they saw Loki as you did.

A few minutes later, you two were strolling down the New York. Just you, Loki, and the subtle hum of the Hudson River that made your troubled hearts feel at peace. Slowly paced steps. Your knuckles barely brushing each other woke up armies of butterflies in your stomachs that went on war. If you were bold enough, you would grab his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers together, holding him like it was the end of the world. It was something you truly wanted from the moment Thor brought him into the group.

"So..." Loki cleared his throat. "If you want to, we can talk or, if not, we can walk in silence. It depends on you."

"I'm not ready, not yet... I'm sorry."

"Don't you ever be sorry for not being ready to talk about your feelings, Lady Y/N." Loki grabbed your wrist and made you stop your steps. "Ever, okay?"

Something was mesmerizing in his beautiful eyes and a worried smile. Something that made your heart beat faster; palms get sweaty and clammy. Something that made you agree to everything he said. It was like a trick, but not like the ones he did from time to time to piss of Thor or Tony. No.

You snapped out of it and nodded. "Okay." You said and took your wrist from his hand. You began to walk again with Loki by your side when he asked. "Lady Y/N. A few months ago, I had asked why I deserve a second chance. You'd never gave me an answer. I'd still like to know."

You smiled, looking at the tiny waves on the river. "I knew you'd asked that sooner or later. I think I can finally tell you why I think this way." Your eyes focused on his face now. "Okay... Let me tell you something. It's not a surprise that you've made some pretty bad decisions in your life, and you've hurt a lot of people. You think you're a monster, and you don't deserve to be loved. You were never more wrong.

"In this group, you probably won't find one spotless person. We are people that made huge mistakes. You don't have to look far." You grabbed his hand without thinking. It was an impulse that just felt right. "I was a reckless kid when I got these powers. No one was there to guide me through them, learn how to be in control. And to a bullied kid like me, it was something that made me feel better than others. I was the one on the top. With my mortal mum that couldn't handle the demigod kid and my godly father that had so many half-blood children he didn't give a shit about, no one could stop me. The bullied became the bully. I don't like to call myself that, but this is true. I went through hell, and I made sure they felt the same way. I'm not proud of it, but that is who I was.

"So you have me. And then there's former HYDRA's witch, a billionaire who made deadly weapons, former Russian spy, former HYDRA's most famous brainwashed assassin and etcetera. Welcome, you're just as messed up as we are. Being here with us is your chance to become a better man. You belong here, Loki. Trust me."

At that moment, something broke inside of him. For a second, he stopped being a mysterious, private God of Mischief that didn't want to let in anybody. He let go of all the concerns and worries that had been occupying his mind for far too long. He threw away the image of a monster he considered himself to be.

The words you spoke made him realize that as long as you were next to him, there was nothing he couldn't do. You were the key to his pure heart from the beginning. You were the answer he'd been looking for all along. You were the light that could sweep away the darkness that'd been consuming him from within, and he wanted you to shine beside him forever.

When Loki leaned over to your ear, all you could feel was his warm, shaky breath on your neck that sent the shivers down your spine. "Don't hate me for this." He whispered almost inaudibly as his hands found their way to your hips. His long, lean fingers quite roughly pressed onto your skin. Just like electricity, his touch pierced through your whole body, made your knees get weaker. Your senses were fogged, almost like you were under control. All you could focus on was how his mellowy soft lips felt against yours. The kiss was sweet and passionate, yet gentle at the same time. It wasn't hasty and rough like you'd expect it to be, no. There was something else, something special about it. It was Loki's way to describe every little feeling he had for you. Your adorable smiles you'd been giving him, slight touches you didn't even think he noticed, tea and sympathy. It was all for what he wanted to return the favor.

For a moment, you weren't sure if this was real. Was it just a pure imagination of your mind that was thirsty for love and affection? Or maybe it was a trick, fake reality that you'd fallen for so naively? No, it couldn't be. You could feel it. Feel your heart crazily pounded like it wanted to escape the cage in which it was held for far too long. It was the only thing that helped you stay sober.

You didn't want to stop this. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, scared that once it ended, it would never come back.

"Loki..." You started when you two pulled out to catch a breath. "I could never hate you for making my dreams come true."

The raven-haired man didn't say anything. In response, he wrapped his arms around your still weak body and brought you even closer, so there was no space left between you and him. You felt his chin gently placed on the top of your head. With a smile on your face, you embraced him tightly and snuggled your face onto his chest. All that you heard was his heart pounding fast in the same rhythm as yours, as the subtle hum of the Hudson River accompanied your feelings growing for each other at that moment.

tag: @handmaiden-of-mischief @amiechuchu

#loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki oneshot #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #avengers x y/n #loki x avenger reader #avengers x you #avengers x reader

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years

Text

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt11

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature, Mention of blood, Past events, Unwanted hate towards a family member, and Attempted murder.

Note: I am really bad at warning.

Previously

The sound of coins being step on quietly filled the cavern, as someone pick up the old book on the ground and return back to sleep.

“So, you don’t want to control my body?” Mammon asks the beast reflected in the lake.

No....I have seen how your brothers treated you, and frankly I think you should fight back!

Mammon pouts at him, not likely the way his saying this.

��Hey! They might be a pain in the ass, but that all family are. Sure, we are at each other’s throats, but we have each others back when we need the most.” The beast huffs at that.

Name one time, you all agree to do something!

“The reaper’s cave”

Hm?

“We might not say it out loud, but we truly wanted to help Beel in anyway possible. Hell, it was a miracle that y/n was there. If was for them giving some of their candle to Beel, we would have made it a regular thing to go back to that cave for Beel.” He starts playing around with his ring, to distract himself from missing his brothers.

It seems that the human choice you out of your brothers why is that?

“y/n is not just a human! And why would you care if y/n choose me?”

I don’t know Mammon, why least you been repeating it in your head over and over causing me to wake up!

Suddenly Mammon felt a lump in his throat, he wants to respond but hesitant for a moment, then he spat it out.

“I haven’t done any of that”

Really? Let me refresh your memories

The last part the beast voice changes into his voice as he starts talking into it.

“I failed as protector and a guardian!” “They deserve better than me!” “Why they have to choose me to love” “Why settle with a weak and pathetic demon like me” “I SHOULDN’T BE SECOND OF THE AVATARS!?!”

Half way of the beast speech Mammon covered his ears, shut his eyes, and grinned his teeth with a snarl coming out of him. But he just keeps repeating his thoughts over his mind. Until Mammon scream.

“OKAY I GET IT!” he drops down it all fours as pant like he was exhausted. “I-I can’t be the demon they all want me to be”

Because you keep letting them to fill your mind with those thoughts, but what you should be doing is SHOW THEM!

Mammon looks back to the lake and asks “What do you mean?”

Kill The demon who attack our mate

“I can’t do that; the bastard knows and what I can do. Even if want to kill him, he’ll just move one location to the other”

Not unless you change into me…...

“I can’t…...” Mammon clenches his hands, digging his talons into his palms drawing blood as his body to tremble in the thought of changing back to that form the memories flood back in his mind, all the fights, the wounds which heals but the mental scars remain, and watching Levi and Asmo change right Infront of him. Their scream of agony rings in his ear as tears and blood drip down in to the ground as he starts to sob.

Are you scare after killing Basto, you’ll go and killing your brother while they’re in those forms?

Mammon quickly nods while his looking down at his bleeding hands.

You don’t have to worry about that

The beast spoke with a softer tone causing Mammon to look back at the lake.

“Wh?”

Look you and I are the same being, when I tell you that all you have to do is stay away from them for a week or two, to have better control over yourself and your instinct you might be the first one out of the seven of you to able to turn into your demonic form without the resist of killing your brothers.

Mammon is done founded about the beast just said.

“How are you sure that I can do that?”

Simple you and Asmo are the only ones that didn’t attack y/n when you get angry and threaten them. And you are the only one who never use violence against them by changing into your demon form. You might be a hothead but you never or will raise a hand to your brothers or to our mate.

Mammon is left speechless, the thing that he been scare of knows him well to the point of trusting him for being himself. He was right as much he hates being the first one to be targeting with name calling because of his sin, is not like his the only one, Asmo calling him a horn dog, Levi with his weird obsession with things and getting emotional, Beel with eating all the time, Belphie with out of nowhere naps and sleeps, Satan with his anger issues, and Lucifer being too proud for his own good.

Their demons now, is something they should be use to. But him have the most control out of the seven of them, makes him fill warm inside. That he should be proud of, and why he should let his brothers tell him that he has no self-control when anger.

But his sin oh yeah! He can’t argue with that, I mean he was willing to help Solomon to forge a pact with Lucifer for the Midas crest, and immediately takes all back when Asmo points out that once he gets the crest, he won’t able to touch you due to the crest make everything he touch turns into gold. It had to take Asmo to point it out, who just said it to openly admit that it will be less competition for him. To realize that he could have made one of his biggest mistakes of his life, for what gold!

Looking back at his hands and/or talons then his wings, looks back at his newly grown tail. It too late, he’s far along of the transformation as he his. If he agrees with the beast’s plan, its going to take some time, means that you need to go back.

“Hey, before I agree to yer plan, let me take y/n back to my brothers”

Mammon…. their better with us then back with your brothers

“Yer crazy!?! What if I kill them!”

MAMMON The last thing we want is our MATE DYING. AGAIN! I’m still a little mad at Sloth for what he did! He’s luckily that y/n forgave him, because if they didn’t rest assure, I would’ve wakened up that day!

Mammon flinch and snarl at just remember that day. Holding your past self in his arms as you choke on your blood causing Belphie. If he’s being honest with himself, sometimes he gets piss off whenever Belphie took a nap at your lap and asks pat his head like, he didn’t try to kill you long ago.

That reflex he just did, get angry when you get hurt or someone trying to hurt you. Maybe his beast does have a point.

“Okay, I’ll do it……I’ll-I’ll change, IF!! You make sure that y/n safety is my-our one goal! Go it!”

Even with a beak the beast smirk at Mammon

You have my word…… also you might feel A LOT of pain!

“Huh?...... Wh?”

Before Mammon can say anything else, he felt a pain in his abdomen, he wants to scream but he bites his lips muffling the scream. As he dug his talons into the ground dragging his hands closer to him. Then the pain slowly got worst by each heart beat and panting.

Soon the he couldn’t take it anymore and let out an agnosies scream.

Then a faith voice calls out to him.

“……Mammon…...”

“Mammon!”

Mammon wakes up from the dream by someone grooming his tail, he slowly opens his eyes and lifted up his head and let out a wake-up yawn. And turn his head to whoever is touching his tail.

His eyes narrows and he groans at the sight who it was.

“Morning Mammon, have a good night sleep” Asmo flash he cheerful smile as he fixes the feathers of his tail. “When is the last time you check your tail feathers, look at them some of them are uneven and others stuck together see….” He points at feathers with the vane split apart with dry blood.

“Oi! I didn’t have a chance to clean myself and beside y/n usually brushes and cleans my feathers so, back off” Mammon squawks at Asmo who just giggle at him.

Right, no one can hear him, well no one expect Lucifer who is close to what he is now. He just has to have you use gestures and his eyes to convey what he’s thinking.

“What a pain in the ass, ya all don’t listen to me when I was normal. Now I have to deal with this crap!?! Tch whatever, the herd must be at the lake at this time. Might as well get some food……. Oh shit! Beel’s here…. Great……”

“I know that you’re not a morning demon, so I know that your cranky. But maybe not try to be loud so you won’t wake up y/n” that snap Mammon out of his train of thought.

Surprise to what Asmo said, Mammon looked down in his arms to see your sleeping form curled up next to his chest as you nuzzle your cheek into in with a smile on your face.

He faces softens as gently rub your face with his, as a soothing cooing and purring comes off from him, causing you to let out a satisfying hum as you fall more asleep.

Then Mammon reaches out with beak for a thick fabric from the nest. Then he slowly and gently lay you on the nest and place the fabric under your head serving as a pillow as you continue to sleep.

Then he stood up leave the nest as Asmo let go of his tail and gazing at his brother’s action. Once out of the nest Mammon stretches bending down then stand back straight shake body ruffle his feathers and once finish the feathers fixes themselves as Mammon being his daily routine beginning with leaving the cave. And Asmo got up and follow his big brother.

“I-I don’t believe it. There’s no SIGNAL HERE!!!” Levi is basically reaching for the havens on top of the tree trying to get a signal for his D.D.D, but to no avail.

“Levi! Get down from there” Lucifer yells at Levi causing to flinch almost letting of the branch he was holding to keep himself balance.

From afar Satan and Belphie watches the two older brothers, with Beel who is cook breakfast inside the cave.

“Its just me or is Lucifer losing~”

“His cool? Yes, I’m all for it” Satan is gleefully smile at the sight of Lucifer completely abandoning all of his calmed and serious demeanor, for an anger, short tempered and animalistic one.

Then suddenly they heard talons being drag through rock behind them, they turn around to see Mammon walking out from the cavern and heading outside with Asmo not far behind him.

“Mammon, your awake you got to see this Lucifer is blowing a casket at Levi~” Mammon just keep on walking out ignoring Satan.

“Wait where you going? Breakfast is about to start” Beel got up from he sits next to the campfire and chase after Mammon.

Once outside, flap his wings and start flying, grabbing the attention of Lucifer and Levi.

“MAMMON!?!” Lucifer calls out to him, as he flew after him grabbing Levi’s arm towing along.

As Levi scream for help fade, Satan look at Asmo with a questionable look on his face.

“What did you do”

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that. I was just cleaning the feathers in his tail; I mean you saw him covered in blood of that bastard. You would have done the same thing” Asmo huffs and walk back inside.

“Oh, before you go, Lucifer was looking for the book that he used. Have you seen it?” but Asmo shook his head, not even looking at Satan as he went in to Help Beel with breakfast.

“Clearly one of us is lying about the book” Belphie said it looking at Satan.

“Obviously, but the question is who is lying”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me reader x mammon #obey me monster love #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me blue lotus petals

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illegal-spiegel · 3 years

Text

smoky ink

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader Genre: fluff, crack?, vague smut Warnings: drunken tattoos w Denki, groping Summary: Playing truth or dare with Denki while you were drunk ends up being a huge mistake when you get a tattoo of something from one of your favorite heroes on your ass. Word Count: 4k words A/N: Happy birthday, boom boom boy!!🥳❤️

1k Followers Event prompt #34 “Do I have to pull down my pants to show you?”

In hindsight, you should’ve known better than to play truth or dare with Denki while you were both drunk. Honestly, it’s your fault for giving in and playing the dumb game with him, again, while you’re drunk.

“Truth or dare?” he asks, a sly smirk on his face. You’ve been picking truth this whole time, but you can only do truths five times before you’re out of truths.

Deciding to just go ahead and get it over with, you sigh and give him a bored look as you say in the blandest voice possible, “Dare.”

He pretends to think about it as if he didn’t already know what he was going to dare you to do since he first asked you to play. “Tell Bakugou that you like him or get a tattoo with me. A tattoo of my choosing,” he offers, the smirk getting worse the more he speaks.

You should’ve known. You honestly would’ve texted him, told him, and then lied, and said Denki did it, but you didn’t like the idea of him even wondering if you actually liked him, that there was a possibility of it. What if he reacted badly before you could even explain what had happened?

Yeah, no thanks.

“Let’s go get a tattoo then,” you state boldly as you stand up off your bed, already slipping on your shoes, albeit very slowly thanks to the alcohol in your system. He pouts at you as he lets out a long groan, his body flopping back onto your bed.

“You’re so boring!” he whines, slowly bringing himself up to glare at you.

“Oh, so should I dare you to tell a certain someone that you like them?” you challenge, a smirk of your own coming to your face. His face goes pink at your words, his head shaking left and right rapidly after a moment.

“No,” he mumbles, getting off your bed and putting on his own shoes. Once you two are ready to go, you open up your door and step out into the hallway. Just as you’re shutting your door behind you both, Bakugou emerges from the door down the hall that leads to the stairwell. You make eye contact with him before his eyes shift to Denki who is standing behind you.

Just as your door clicks shut, Denki wraps his arm around your shoulders and starts leading you down the hall towards him. Bakugou doesn’t wait a moment longer before walking down the opposite hall towards his bedroom. You let out a soft sigh as you reach the top of the stairs, slowly starting to climb down them.

“Don’t look so down! Midoriya probably just pissed him off again or something,” he reassures, bumping his shoulder into yours. You force a smile to your face and direct it at him, bumping him back.

“Race ya!” you shout before taking off down the steps, almost tripping several times.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Denki roars, swiftly following after you. You laugh loudly as you take two steps at a time, trying to beat him to the bottom. You both jump at the end, landing on the floor almost at the same time.

You’re not sure who won though.

“Ha! I won!” Denki boasts loudly, throwing his arms into the air. This makes you scoff, your hands finding their way to your hips while you try to regain some of the air you lost into your lungs.

“As if! I clearly won that!” you claim, unsure if you’re even right or not. You both go back and forth the entire way out of the building, only waving to people you pass as a greeting since you’re so involved in your argument.

Once you’re outside, you wrap your arm around Denki’s neck and tug him down to give him a noogie. He shouts and tries to pull away, but you keep a strong hold on him. “I yield! I yield!” he shouts, finally making you let him go with a satisfied grin on your face.

“That’s what I thought.”

You two walk to the closest tattoo and piercing parlor, both of you bubbling with nerves and excitement. As you walk in, you take in the place with innocent, round eyes.

“Alright! I’ll pick out your tattoo and you can pick out mine!” Denki informs before taking off to the opposite end of the shop. You chuckle softly as you watch him go, starting to walk around to look for available tattoos.

You end up choosing a Pikachu one for him, feeling satisfied with your choice. You just hope he is serious about this and doesn’t choose something completely ridiculous.

Once you both have your tattoos, you each hide the tattoo you picked out from the other as you meet back in the middle. “I found the perfect one,” you say confidently. He chuckles as he secretly looks down at his phone.

“Oh, I think mine is much better,” he chirps. You squint your eyes at him in suspicion but ultimately let it go, walking over to the artist that will be tattooing you both.

“You’re first,” you tell him, wanting to make sure that he’s going to actually go through with this instead of just making you get one on your own. After arguing back and forth a couple of minutes, he eventually gives in.

“Fine, coward,” he jabs, slowly taking his seat. You decide to let him pick where he wants it, knowing that if you don’t, he’ll choose a terrible spot for you in return. He ends up getting it on his chest, deciding to put it right on his right pec.

“No peeking,” you declare as you show the artist what he’s getting. Denki huffs as he peels his shirt off, laying back in the chair and tilting his head back to make sure he doesn’t peek.

To your surprise, Denki doesn’t nearly complain as much as you thought he would. Sure, he grunts and flinches every once in a while but all in all, he just quietly sits there, quietly looking up at the ceiling as the mechanical sound of the needle thrumming fills the room. Well, that is until the tattoo is completed. “Jesus! That hurt more than a buttcheek on a stick!” he exhales dramatically, quoting a video that he saw forever and a half ago.

“Alright, no peeking until mine is done,” you remind, laughing lightly at his words while you take your seat. Denki playfully salutes you before pulling out his phone to show the artist what you’re getting as they clean up the equipment, and you can’t help the nerves that start spiking out of nowhere.

“Where do you want it?”

“Um, how big is it?” you tentatively ask, hoping Denki wouldn’t do something extreme. The artist looks over to Denki, silently asking him how big he wanted the piece to be. Denki furrowed his eyebrows as he thought over it for a moment, before lifting his hand and making a circle with his thumb and index finger.

“About this big, I’d say,” he ultimately says. The circle is about as big around as the diameter of his wrist. You let out an audible sigh as you try to figure out what the tattoo he planned for you was going to be. You wanted to have a little more faith in your friend, you really did, but it was hard when that friend was a total jokester like Denki.

“Can I just get it on my ass?” you ask softly, letting out an awkward laugh to mask just how nervous you truly felt, but it doesn’t quite give the effect you hoped it would. The artist simply nods as Denki starts cackling in response.

“Seriously, (Y/n)? Have some faith in me!” he teases between chuckles, knowing you only wanted it there to hide it. You glare over at him, slowly taking off your pants before folding them up and placing them off to the side to be out of the way. You turn to lay on your stomach, trying to ignore how warm your cheeks were getting out of the embarrassment of the situation.

“Damn, (Y/n)! What you doin’ out here with all that ass?” Denki jokes, making your blush worsen as you quickly whip your head around to shoot him a hard stare.

“Stop being such a pig and come hold my hand!” you hiss, the look you’re give him turning to one of pure ice when he just laughs and rounds the table to come sit in front of you. He finally takes your hand with a smirk, kissing the back of it.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the pain that you were about to endure. When the needle first makes contact with your skin, you jump a bit and tighten your grip on Denki’s hand. You fight villains almost every day of your life and have almost died on numerous occasions, and yet, this seemed to hurt worse in comparison. Though, this definitely helps you sober up somewhat. After a while, you start to get used to the pain of the needle making passes over your skin and start to feel your muscles relax a bit, Denki further helping you relax as he distracts you by talking away.

Once your tattoo is finally done, you slowly stand up and waddle over to the mirror with Denki. “On three. One, two, three!” You count down before turning to look over your shoulder at the tattoo.

“Woah! It looks so good! Thanks, (Y/n)!” Denki cheers. You can’t bring your eyes away from your left ass cheek though, your mouth not cooperating with your brain.

Sitting there, on your skin forever, might you add, is a tattoo of Bakugou’s green gauntlets surrounded by tiny explosions and smoke. You’re not sure how to react at first but it comes to you quickly.

“I’m going to kill you!” you shout, noticing that he is already running away. You chase after him, without pants, by the way, for a moment before the tattoo artist asks you both to calm down. You clench your jaw together while walking back over to the artist, letting them properly wrap up both your and Denki’s tattoos. The entire time you were glaring at Denki though, swearing to yourself that you’ll really kill him this time.

“You must be a big fan of Dynamight’s,” the artist comments as he finishes wrapping up your tattoo, your face heating further at his comment while Denki does his best to hide his laughter, and failing miserably.

Once you both pay and are good to go, Denki rushes out of the shop with you trailing not too far behind as you start to chase after him again, both of you having a lot of pent-up energy from sitting down for so long. Once you finally catch up to him, you grab him by the collar of his shirt so he can’t escape while you prepare yourself to clobber him. But before you can get a good swing in, he lifts his hands up in surrender, offering to take you out for food in exchange for not hurting his precious face. You shove him with a scoff, his hand coming up to rub the spot where you grabbed his collar from.

“Fine. You’re paying for everything though.”

Humming contently as you lead the way to find a good place to eat nearby.

After getting a fill of some food, the both of you start walking back to the dorms, before realizing that it’s been long enough for you to take off the plastic wrap covering your tattoo. You’ll ignore it for now though, deciding that you’ll do it once you get back into your room. You’ll probably cover it up again after getting a picture of it just to make sure it doesn’t get infected though.

“I can’t wait for Bakubro to see your tattoo. He’ll finally know how much of a fan you are,” Denki teases you as you two near the dorms. Your face warms as you raise your hand to hit him with a shout, making him yelp and take off again.

“Come back here, you gremlin!”

You chase him all the way back, cursing and shouting at him the entire time as you try to catch him. You’re panting for air by the time you come inside, trying to ignore the stares everyone is giving you. Denki is breathless from running but somehow still manages to laugh at your angry face. He crashes down into a seat beside Kirishima and leans against him for support. You glare daggers at him while you stomp on over, ready to throw hands with him.

“What’s going on with you two?” Jiro asks with a raised brow, looking between you and the electric blonde.

“Nothing!” You answer quickly, your face flaming with heat. No one can find out about your new tattoo. No one.

“Awe come on, don’t be shy, (Y/n)!” Denki teases, wiping tears of joy away from his eyes.

“Shut it, Denki!” you shout back, hitting his shoulder with as much force as you can muster.

“Ow! Hey! Quit it!” he shouts before flicking your forehead.

“No, you quit it!” you retort, flicking him right back.

You two go back and forth until Bakugou, who you failed to notice until now, directs a glare at you both with a shout.

“Will the two of you extras shut up? Why are you even arguing in the first place?” he roars, making you both fall quiet. You, obviously, didn’t plan on answering that but you should’ve known that Denki would.

“(Y/n) got a tattoo!” Denki screeches out before you can stop him, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Did not! He did!” You shout right back, hoping no one can tell how flustered you are.

“What? No way! You got a tattoo? Let me see it!” Mina gasps before clambering up to tug at your shirt collar and sleeves to try and find where it’s at.

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!”

“I can’t, Mina!”

“Why not?” she whines, tugging on your shirt like a toddler now. You go quiet at that, trying to think of a good lie to tell her.

“Because she got it on her ass!” Denki declares, making you whip around to glare at him.

“Why you—” you start as you jump for him, his eyes widening as he quickly hops up to run away again. You can’t even chase after him either thanks to Mina grabbing your arm and dragging you towards your room with a few of the others you’re close with in tow.

“I want to see it right now!” she shouts, almost making you trip from how fast she’s walking. Once in the safety of your room, you tug your pants down enough to show them your new tattoo.

“Oh my god…”

“(Y/n)!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“I know. It’s terrib—” you start to say before someone else cuts you off.

“It’s so good!”

“Yeah, it looks great!”

“What?” you ask in shock, feeling your jaw drop in surprise. Are they serious right now? It’s embarrassing!

“It looks so good! I want to get one now!”

“Where did you go?” You can’t even take any of them seriously right now.

“Guys, it’s a disaster!” Mina rolls her eyes at you, moving to sit on your bed as she looks at your tattoo again.

“It is not. Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m not! What if Bakugou finds out? He might kill me!”

“If, (Y/n), if he finds out,” she replies with a smirk, leaning back on her hands. You stare at her for a long moment before slowly nodding your head back at her, your shoulders starting to relax.

“Right, yeah, if he finds out,” you reply with a sigh, pulling your pants back up and laying down onto your bed with a sigh.

What you all forgot about was a crucial detail though. That detail is a loudmouth blond who is one for drama and pranks.

You don’t even realize you fell asleep until you hear swift knocking at your door. You groggily sit up and rub at your eyes, finding everyone is already gone. You must’ve fallen asleep sometime after laying down and they let themselves out.

You bring yourself out of your short daze when the knocking swiftly returns much louder this time. “Yeah, I heard you the first time!” you quip as you climb out of bed, mad that you’ve been woken up from such a nice sleep.

When you open the door, Bakugou is the last one you would’ve thought to be on the other side. You silently gape at him for a second, having trouble finding what to say. A simple ‘hello’ would’ve been fine, but you couldn’t even muster that up.

Your eyes widen further when he pushes past you into your room, your eyes finally blinking. “Sure, come on in,” you mumble sarcastically and close the door, turning to face him only to find him already staring at you.

“Is it true?” he asks vaguely, your half-asleep brain still trying to fully wake up and process what’s going on.

“What?” is all you can find to say in response.

“Is it true you got a tattoo of me?” he further asks, his eyes staring deeply into yours to gouge your reaction. All at once, you become a blushing and stuttering mess.

“What? No! Of course not! Who gave you that crazy idea?” you sputter, pressing yourself back against the door.

“Denki did. He told me that you two went to go get them earlier,” Bakugou further explains, taking a step closer to you. The room suddenly feels too warm for your liking, the air becoming dry in your lungs.

“Well, Denki is a liar…” you mumble, looking away from him. You make a mental note to literally kill Denki later.

“Show me.”

“What?” you ask, your eyes snapping back to his face to find that he is quite serious.

“Show me the tattoo,” he demands, his voice becoming a tad bit softer than before. You gulp at his commanding voice, starting to shake your head and press yourself further into the door.

“No.”

“Why not?” he asks, his brows knitting together. Why does he seem surprised?

“Because I can’t,” you explain, watching his brows now furrow downward.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Bakugou, I can’t. Just let it go,” you reply with a sigh, looking away from his eyes once more to look down at his shoes.

“No, I’m not letting it go. It’s of me anyway, isn’t it? You’re required to show me,” he pushes, taking another step towards you and getting into your personal bubble.

You place your hands onto your hips with a huff and shift your gaze to his, glaring up at him. “Do I have to pull down my pants to show you to get you to shut up?” you hiss, feeling your face become as hot as an inferno.

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares down at you. “I guess you have to,” he sasses, making you angrily frown at him.

“Fine!” you snap before turning around and tugging your pants just far enough to reveal your tattoo. You don’t hear him say anything or even gasp, your heartbeat in your ears the only sound that you can hear. You wearily look over your shoulder to look at him, your breath catching in your throat when you see the look on his face.

His eyes have drooped and become half-lidded as he stares down at it, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You don’t dare speak, afraid that if he turns that look onto you, you won’t be able to control yourself.

You don’t have to speak though since he can feel your heavy gaze on him. When his eyes shift up to meet yours, you wonder if he actually stopped breathing or if your mind is playing tricks on you. His eyes go back down though and a gasp rips out of you when his warm fingers gently graze over the tattoo.

“Why?” he suddenly asks, your frazzled mind barely catching what he said. Your brain is deciding to focus more on how his fingers don’t seem to be leaving your ass anytime soon.

“Why what?” you stutter out, followed by a gulp when his other hand moves to gently clasp your hip.

“Why do you have a tattoo of me on your ass?” he whispers into your ear, his body heat radiating through you to your very core. You shiver and turn your head forward again, pressing your forehead to the wall to help ground yourself.

“Denki picked it out,” you explain, sucking your lip into your mouth. He grunts at your answer and pulls away from you, making you turn around to face him in search of his touch again.

“Denki? That’s it? No other reason?” he asks, his eyes not meeting yours. Your brows knit together at his question, your mind racing at what he could have possibly wanted to hear. It couldn’t be-

“Well, he’s technically not the only reason,” you mumble, distracting yourself by looking off to the side where a picture of the gang rests on your bedside table. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You all had decided to go to the beach and the picture was taken right as the sun hit the water on the horizon. You got a stranger to take the photo for you and Denki had shoved you and Bakugou together. By looking at the picture, you can just remember how warm your face had gotten being pressed against his side like that. It only got hotter when he had wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“So what’s the other reason then?” he asks, stepping to the side to block your vision from whatever you were staring at.

“Why do you think?” you quip.

“I’m guessing it’s because you have a fat crush on Dynamight,” he teases, his usual smirk finding its way onto his lips.

“Maybe I do, what about it?” you sass, giving him your own smirk, even though you’re secretly dying on the inside from embarrassment.

“Well, it’s a good thing he likes you back, seeing as how you got a tattoo of him on your ass,” he bluntly replies, forcing his way into your personal space once more, but this time he presses his front against yours.

You both stare into the other’s eyes, trying to decipher what the other’s next move is going to be. Almost at the same time, you both surge forward and smash your mouths together. The kiss unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, a new fire igniting in both of you. It’s quite sloppy, your teeth gnashing together and angrily biting the other’s bottom lip.

His rough hands squeeze your hips as he pulls you closer to his body, grinding himself into you. One hand wanders and immediately heads for the tattoo that you hid from him after he first touched it. He aggressively kneads the cheek without the tattoo, tracing over the image under your jeans with his other hand.

“Mind if I get a better look at it?” he breathlessly inquires, his hooded eyes meeting yours. Instead of verbally responding, you connect your lips together once more, urging his hands to the front of your jeans to tug them back down your legs again. He does so with ease, only pulling away from your hips to peel them down your legs. He cups you through your underwear, giving a low chuckle when you let out a whimper.

“More,” you beg, impatiently tugging your underwear down just enough for him to see how ready you are for him. He lets out a satisfied hum and brings his hands down to your bare ass to give each cheek a firm squeeze, being mindful of the tattoo that’s towards the top. A loud whine escapes you before you can trap it, his lips finding their way to your neck.

“Why don’t you lie down on the bed on your hands and knees to give me a better view of that tattoo?” he mumbles against your skin, his ears being met by a complying moan in response.

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yandere-mha · 4 years

Note

How would Yandere Dabi react fo Y/N protecting him? Let's put a scenario that Y/N is a villian but protected of the League of Villians. She is sweet to Toga, takes care of Spinner, jokingly annoys Shigaraki only when he is in a good mood, and make sure everyone is alright. Y/N gives out motherly vibes where Toga jokes around of Y/N being a mom. Dabi catching feelings next he is fighting a hero. He got badly injured and Y/N step in protecting him. Taking a few blows for Dabi and killing the hero. Y/N helps Dabi to get up and says, "You got to stop being so reckless. I want to protect you but you keep throwing yourself in danger. "

Ughhhh I love this request so much. I really hope you like this and that my writing is worthy of your genius brain 🙏

TW: ABUSE MENTION, KIDNAPPING, VIOLENCE, BLOOD MENTION, MENTAL ILLNESS.

MAJOR BNHA MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Toya was numb. His whole world was bleak, meaningless, and utterly isolated. He had no family, ambitions, or sense of self. No one cared about him or any of the terrible things that had been done to him and he didn’t care as well. There was nothing. He didn’t care about anyone else either. Whether he lived or died didn’t matter because he just existed. He may as well be dead, according to his family who had moved on. There was no justice. There was no love. There was no identity. His identity was to be the number one hero, but that had been ripped from him long ago. Toya was too tired to care.

Dabi was angry. Sometimes he became so angry and violent that he would scare himself. He would feel everything at once to the point where he couldn’t breathe. He mourned over the death of his purpose in life and over the death of the plucky little kid who would never give up. He wasn’t that kid anymore and he didn’t like what he’d become. Dabi wasn’t really him though... Dabi was Endeavor. Endeavor made him and he wants more than anything to make him see the consequences of his actions since his family didn’t care enough about him to do that themselves. Why did they forget me? Did I not even mean anything to them alive? He’ll make them pay too. He’s found a new identity and he couldn’t be more happy

You... were warm. When he looked at your beautiful face he felt as if he should look away because he didn’t deserve to see you. He wished you couldn’t see him, yet he craved for you to just look at him. You filled a void within Toya and suddenly he wasn’t so lonely anymore. How could you love someone who wasn’t even a person? Maybe he really was a person. You were so perfect... it pissed Dabi off. You reminded Dabi that he would never be good enough for that kind of love. He would always be second and he was just waiting for the moment you’d replace him with someone else. You’d forget about him just like his family did. You scared him but he couldn’t stay away. Life was unbearable without you. How could you make him feel that way? Hasn’t he already been through enough? You shouldn’t play with people’s feelings, ya know...

What was really cruel was how much you must love to toy with him. You knew how much he needed you - ALL of you, and yet you looked at other people too. He never told you about his feelings but why should he have to when he knew that you knew. You knew of how much pain you were causing him and you didn’t care. Why must everyone treat him like this? He knew there were no good people in the world and yet he let himself fall for you. How pathetic. How weak. He needed to show you what happens when you cross him. He’s tried of being weak and you make him look like some love-sick fool.

When you sacrificed yourself for him, all he could do was laugh. He screamed in pain as he laughed until he felt his face fall apart and his lungs felt like they were about to fall out of his body. It was funny how fucking desperate you were to hurt him that you’d actually hurt yourself like this. What the fuck would he do if he lost you, huh? Who would he be after you were gone? He clamped his hands over your battered form as tightly as he could screaming in your face in the way an animal would scream after being shot. He knew his face was bleeding all over you, mixing with your own blood. It made his heart flutter being so close to you.

After scanning your dumbfounded face, his laughter began to die down and he affectionately swiped a loose strand of hair out of your face to get a better look at you. He really was a tool, huh? He can’t be mad at you for long. You were his wife after all even if you pretended not to know that and he’d be there to protect you no matter how much you piss him off sometimes. Your love truly was written in the stars and no matter what happened, you would always end up together - till death do you part. He remembered all the times he’d dreamed about having a wife as a child and he smiled softly. He was flattered that anyone would care enough about him to do something like this even if it was to hurt him. You must hate him and love him too.

“You gotta stop being so reckless. I want to protect you but you keep throwing yourself into danger like some fucking dumbass. If you really want my attention so bad, you should have just said so.”

That was fun and all, but he can’t have you doing that again. You’re gonna be at his place for a long time and he’ll make sure to think of a proper punishment for you too. You have to learn your lesson and hold yourself accountable.

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matryosika · 3 years

Text

shoot me, chapter III

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III

word count for this chapter — 3.7 k

warnings — suggestive, slight jisung x reader, mentions of alcohol, possessive and jealous changbin, choking and sexual tension.

note — i have been pretty ia lately because i'm full of school work to do. my semester is coming to an end, so i must turn in final projects and take my final tests too. i'm normally much active than i have been on this account, i promise to get back to you as soon as school ends for me. this chapter has just sexual tension but not smut smut and it's shorter than the rest but i needed to divide the chapter because it became way too long. smut promised for next one that i will be uploading this weekend (hopefully!)

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i don't think we should to that again

it was a mistake

you looked at your phone at a extreme state of confusion. he had left your place minutes ago and, after an amazing session of oral sex, a lovely dinner and a extremely bearable (maybe even good) late-night talk, the walk to his car was all it took for him to develop a guilt complex?

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i just needed to vent but honestly, getting with you can really damage my future and that's not something i'm willing to jeopardize for sex.

you read his messages over and over again. it was the "i just needed to vent" that got backlash from you... did he really just came to your place only to ease his sexual frustrations?

you were still siting in the living room, hugging your knees to your chest. you hadn't lose self control once but twice, and not to mention it was with a man whose only purpose all along was to use you to feel better about himself.

"you really touched bottom this time" you whispered to yourself, feeling the need to take a second shower in order to rinse away all the traces from his touches and kisses on your skin.

maybe it wasn't really the guilt that bothered you. maybe it was the fact that, tonight, was probably the best night you've ever had for a while. he took well care of you, after finishing he cleaned you up and carried you to your room so you could take a shower and change your clothes.

he patiently waited for you while sitting at the edge of your bed and, when you were done showering, some delicious food he ordered was already expecting both of you at the dinning room of the house. during dinner, you told him a little bit about your life in japan and shared some childhood memories with him.

things were good, maybe too good for your own liking, but it only took a couple of minutes for changbin to remind you who he truly was.

not only that, but you also wouldn't admit the fact that you had a great time with him.

you spent the rest of the week calmly, having to hang out with changbin more times than you actually wanted to. he would often act like a gentleman in front of his parents and arthur, trying to engage in coversations with you often, asking you about your major and your adolescence in japan. you thought that he was just doing that in an attempt to hide the awkwardness of the air every time you had to spend time with him at arthur's company, but that didn't completely eased the fact that you felt your blood boil every time you had to be near him.

"you are coming, right?" ryujin cried from the other side of the phone "you told me you wanted to come!"

fuck, chan's party was this weekend.

"uhhhh" you mumbled "ryujin i don't feel good"

"y/n!" she screamed "is it because of changbin? baby? i have known you since pre-school, are you really feeling bad over a man you met barely 2 weeks ago?"

ryujin was right. you hated men, you truly did. and you were too proud about the fact that you had never cried over one, let alone have your heart broken by any of them. and it wasn't changbin you were sad about but the fact that he used you, you let him and then tried to act like nothing ever happened between both of you, which was even more humilliating. it always seemed like you had everything controlled but this time he was the one who got the last word and that was something you just couldn't accept.

"besides" ryujin added without leaving time for you to talk "i don't even think he is coming, chan said that he invited more people outside his friend group because some of them were not going to make it tonight, maybe he is one of them"

"maybe" you said "but i'm not willing to take a risk on that, ryujin"

you couldn't see her, but you could clearly picture how she was pouting at that exact moment. "y/n, you will eventually go back to japan and we will not be able to hang out anymore. is that what you want? do you want to reject your best friend on a saturday night? plus! the last time i took you to itaewon you had a great time!"

"speak for yourself ryujin" you mutered

"PLEASE" she screamed, making you squirm in your place "i promise that i will be by your side the whole time, i won't get distracted by the gorgeous, precious, well-built, amazing...."

"alright" you interrupted her "i know you are lying but i want to believe you for once"

she did a little scream of victory on the other side of the line and proceeded to set an hour to pick you up, almost against your will.

"what's the special occasion?" you asked ryujin as she went through all your clothes that were now laying around your bedroom floor, trying to find the perfect outfit for chan's party because you were dressed too casual, apparently.

"today it's the birthday of one of his closest friends" she said, almost in a hurry "and we are now running late because of your choice of clothes"

"i didn't knew there was a dresscode" you said, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"oh no, there isn't" she responded, now lurking around your suitcase and bags "but you need to let know changbin what he is missing out"

you rolled your eyes and grunted, of course. ryujin was that type of friend who would hype you up while you wear a killer outfit just to piss off a man.

"FINALLY" she screamed, finding the black dress that you stole from changbin at coex "i knew you had something around"

with hesitant eyes you looked at her handing you the dress, not sure if this easy outfit, like changbin said, would fit the occasion. "go on, it's almost 9 p.m."

by the bar incident you learned that chan, changbin and the whole friend group were a bunch of privileged men, but you didn't quite understand how privileged they were until you found yourself outside chan's house. the architecture looked excentric but expensive, at the same time. it was located in a pretty nice neighbourhood and was specially afar from the rest of the houses as if the most important value around was privacy.

you looked at ryujin and she seemed nervous. understandable. she came from a decent household but this right here just looked like the mansion of a western celebrity.

"are you alright?" you asked her, closing the door of her car before walking towards the stairs that lead you to the front door.

"this is the first time i'll get to meet chan's friends" she responded, making a grimace as she retracted "well, the second time, but i can barely remember the night at the bar"

"right"

right before she could continue talking, the front door opened and chan greeted you both. "ladies"

you bowed down to chan and ryujin immediately jumped into his arms, receiving a kiss in her cheek by the man himself "could you not?" you joked, watching chan's face turning bright red by the unexpected and euphoric physical contact.

"i missed him!" ryujin defended herself, locking her arms behind his neck.

"come in, y/n" he said, opening the door wider so you and ryujin could come in.

"who's the birthday boy?" you asked, your eyes scanning the insides of the house looking for any sign of changbin.

"it's jeongin's birthday" he said, proudly smiling like the father of an 8-year-old son "he's right there, at the couch. maybe you recall him from the bar"

you saw his face and immediatly remembered him. "yeah, the guy who just couldn't stop laughing"

"that's the one" chan said, standing right besides ryujin "let's go, let me introduce you to them"

the next hour was spent peacefully and you were almost thankful that ryujin begged you to come. jeongin, the birthday boy, was already drunk by 10:00 p.m. and kept making bad jokes that cracked everyone up. ryujin left with chan to god-knows-where and you were stucked with jisung and hyunjin at the living room, drinking ocasionally and having a good time.

"i remember you from the bar" jisung mumbled, getting closer to your ear as the music was already too loud. "i wanted to chat with you, but you disappeared quickly"

his breath smelled like cherries and alcohol as he was too close to you, but you couldn't complain. it was almost intoxicating in the best way possible.

"yeah i was not having a good time"

he smiled proudly "i'm sure i could have made it better"

a sarcastic chuckled escaped your lips as he placed a hand on his chest "you don't believe me?"

"i don't believe any man for that matter" you replied almost in a flirty way, not that you wanted to tho but the alcohol was already making you feel a tad extroverted.

"but i'm not any man" jisung whispered on your ear, making you feel goosebumps over the entirety of your body. before you could even say something back, he grabbed you by the hand and took you outside of the living room and into the patio, where a lot of people were gathered drinking and dancing.

"oh, i'm not good at dancing" you tried to escape, jisung holding you by one of your hands.

"you don't have to be good at dancing to enjoy it" he pouted, still convincing you to join him at the improvised dance floor that people made right at the center of the courtyard "c'mon y/n"

you were not too fond of dancing, but the music that was playing and jisung's insistence made you accept the offer. with small jumps of excitement he drove you to the crowd of people and started to move around you like a fool, inspiring you confidence to losen up a bit.

"i'm not used to this" you admit, moving your body to the sound of "criminal" by taemin, one of your favorite songs ever.

"there's always a first time for everything" he mumbled, his face dangerously close to yours "here"

his hands traveled to your waist and he held you closer to his body, feeling his soft and warm sking against the naked parts of your. "just let your body move with the music, it's not hard"

jisung's presence was extremely intoxicated and captivating, but not enough to keep you from notice changbin entering to courtyard.

and he wasn't alone.

your whole body tensed and you could feel how jisung stepped back a little bit. "did i do something wrong?"

you parted your gaze from changbin as soon as he saw your body pressed against him, and you gave a faint smile to jisung.

"no, i just felt shy for a moment"

he gave you a wide smile and continue to hold you even closer, your hips moving involuntary against his pelvic area and his eyes firmly fixed into you. "god, you are so precious"

"am i?" you asked, tilting your head to the side while dancing.

you could feel changbin's gazed nailed into your body and that was making you do stupid things. you wanted to make him feel jealous, for some reason, but using a man you just met wasn't something that would fit in your principles.

"mhm" he hummed, the movements of both of you getting slower as the song progressed. jisung's lips brushed softly against yours pratically begging for a kiss, but you knew that it was way too early for that.

you turned around on your place, your back now pressed to his chest, as you continued to dance against his body. his hands were glued to your waist and ocasionally would visit your hips, moving at the same rythm as you did. a different song was playing right now, but you didn't even noticed as your mind was flooded with thoughts. who was changbin with? was she his girlfriend? was he still there watching you? were you dancing with jisung just to piss him off? and most importantly, why did you feel the need to make him jealous in the first place?

before the trail of thoughts continued on your head, jisung's hand traveled from the tip of your fingers to your left shoulder, his fine digits dancing around your naked clavicles. "did i tell you that this dress looks amazing on you?"

his voice, the trace of his fingers and his scent made you act completely dumb around him, it was almost painful to watch. with a swift movement, you were now facing him again and kept on moving slowly. "i don't think so"

"well" he said, leaning one more time to leave a faint kiss on your lips "you look amazing on that dress"

and without expecting an answer from you, he kissed you.

his lips tasted exactly the same as his scent. the mixture of cherries, strawberries and alcohol intoxicated your five senses, making you unable to think about what you were doing. the kiss was everything except rushed, as if he was taking his time to taste every single inch of your lips and tongue. his hands were resting on your waist and lower back and the song that was now playing just fit the whole mood the both of you created, right until...

"do you mind?" a man's voice asked while you felt a grip on your forearm.

"give me a break man" jisung said, interrupting the kiss. it was no other than changbin, standing right in the middle of you and jisung.

"she is drunk" changbin said, almost in a threatening tone.

"i am not" you responded, trying to get out of changbin's grip.

"we are in the middle of something here" jisung insisted, trying to get between you and the grip changbin had on your arm.

"i'm not in the mood for a chat, han" his voice turned ten times deeper and his body language reminded you of that night at itaewon "i'm taking her home because he drank too much"

"let go off of me"

but he did not let go of you and continued dragging you across the whole courtyard and into the living room. "aren't you supposed to be with your girlfriend?"

you started to curse him openly, but he wouldn't slow down his pace. he took you out of the house and into his car without even saying a word.

"you are acting as if you were my owner" you grunted, looking for your phone inside of your purse "you just love to order me around, don't you?"

"that didn't seem to upset you at the bar and your house" he scoffed, his voice going completely cold as ice.

"you bringing that topic now is just miserable" you laughed as he started the car "i was about to enjoy a good night of fucking, something i never got to do with you because you are a coward"

changbin's jaw tensed up and you could feel how the car started to go faster.

the adrenaline of changbin's jealousy, the alcohol, jisung's taste and the speed of the car were making you feel particularly bold tonight, something you knew you would regret the morning after.

"why do you tense up?" you asked, teasing him "i know you wanted to fuck me so bad but still decided to not jeopardize your future for a night of sex"

you were not completely sure, but it was kind of obvious that changbin wasn't driving to your house. you tried to catch a glimpse of the street names as if that was going to be helpful to a foreigner, but it was too dark outside.

"you are not going to talk now?" you asked him, taking off your high-heels as your whole body rested on the car seat. "you were so bold a few minutes ago, trying to act like a fucking man intimidating jisung at chan's house. two nights of oral sex and i have that much of a grip on you, changbin?"

he wouldn't respond, and that only made your blood boil even more.

"you are so fucking pathetic" you muttered, looking directly at him as his gaze was completely fixed on the road.

the car took a sudden turn and parked right in front of a complex of apartments. without hesitation, he got out and opened the door for you, carrying you into his shoulder inside the elevator of the lobby.

the scene was pretty much awkward as you faced yourself into the elevator mirror. your hair was completely messed up and your lipstick was a bit smudged but other than that, you looked completely sober. not only that, but he knew that you weren't drunk. he just made that excuse.

the doors of the elevators opened on the 12th floor and you were glad that no one was waiting for it outside, otherwise they would've seen your ass on changbin's shoulder.

"you know i'm not drunk, right?" you said, still resting on his shoulders while he took his keys from the pocket of his black pants

"just shut the fuck up for a moment" he said, carrying you and leaving you standing inside of his apartment as he turned all the lights inside on.

"i knew your behavior as a gentleman was a fucking act and you only did that in front of your parents and arthur"

"you are so annoying" changbin whispered as he walked towards the black leather couch in the middle of the living room of his apartment. you followed him and walked right behind him.

"i don't have anything to do here, changbin" you mumbled, his back turned against you. you wanted to tease him, you needed to. for an unknown reason, you felt the sudden urge to make him mad, to make him explode. you needed things to escalate quickly so he would give you another reason for you to hate him even more "i can't believe i should be fucking with jisung right now but instead i'm-"

before you could finish that sentence, you felt changbin's grip on both sides of your neck "go on, keep on talking"

the lack of oxygen, the sudden movement of changbin against your body and his gaze flooded with anger made your legs tremeble "keep on fucking talking"

you could barely swallow by how hard his right hand was grasping onto your neck "look at you" you whispered with broken words, smirking as your eyes unconciously closed because of the pleasure "are you jealous, changbin?"

"why don't you answer the question, y/n?" he asked, his hold on your neck becoming softer as his lips approached your right ear "how did you felt when you saw me with that girl earlier today?"

an ironic laugh left your lips, trying to shield yourself from the obvious thing. "i don't know what game you are playing, changbin, but i didn't felt shit"

"really?" he hummed, his raspy voice near your ear made you squeeze your thighs together unconciously, and even though his hand was merely just resting on your neck, the arousal you felt from his grip was still there. "i know you saw me with her, and i could tell how that made you dance for jisung more... enthusiastically"

"you are wrong" you replied, pushing him slightly away "and pathetic, getting jealous when you were the one who cutted things off since the beginning"

"he is an asshole" changbin said with a mocking and sarcastic tone, his fingers tracing the naked skin of your arms as he licked his lips "and i must protect you, like arthur said. isn't that right?"

"he is a good kisser" you answered "i bet he fucks better than you too, not that i would know though because i never got to fuck with you"

changbin's eyes drifted from your skin to your eyes in a matter of miliseconds and for the first time in the evening you regretted saying something. "you are just begging for me to fuck you, aren't you?"

"don't get confused" you spitted "i don't want to have anything to do with you"

his hand traveled slowly to the end of your dress, lifting it up and reaching for your, now soaking, panties. his digits traced your slit and you swallowed hard in anticipation for whatever humiliating thing he was about to say. "are you sure?"

he removed his fingers from your core and were now glistening thanks to the light coming from the window of his apartment. "look at me and tell me that you don't want me to fuck you"

"look at me and tell me that you didn't felt jealous when you saw me with jisung" yo fired back, a faint smirk appearing on his face.

"i did" he admitted "i can't even begin to explain how mad i felt at the sight of your precious body pressing against his. all i wanted to do at that exact moment was to fuck you right in front of everybody, including him"

his hands toured to your back, unzipping the dress you were wearing as he looked directly into your eyes trying to decode if you actually wanted this or not.

"i know what i said last week" changbin mumbled, his fingers helping you to drag the straps on your dress all the way to your wrists "but your existence is fucking me up"

your heart started to beat even faster, your breath accelerated "and it wasn't until i saw you with someone else where i realized that i needed to make you completely mine, even just once"

you soon found yourself in your underwear right in front of him, his eyes looking at you up and down several times making you feel intimidated. you had two options: loose your self-control for the third time and do something that you truly wanted to, or leave his apartment feeling proud.

but you already made that choice when you didn't fought back enough to stop him from driving you to his place.

"please ruin me" you whispered, your soul immersed in arousal, guilt and regret.

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